#he’s wearing traditional funeral attire..

[erlandious]

Doodle crumbs

[yingandzhan]

Hello yingandzhan 😊👋! Hope you're having a good day! I wanted to confirm something with you. I have seen people saying that Lan Wangji wore mourning robes before, but is this true according to the novel? I kind of thought it was just his clan uniform. I'm not really sure, but the only thing I could find in the book concerning this was that Wei Wuxian "thought" the Lan clan uniform looked like funeral clothes. I'm not really sure about it, so I thought about asking you 🤔.

Hello dephoraowo 😊

Looks like Tumblr has decided to start alerting me whenever I receive an ask now!

I am having a wonderful day, thank you. I hope you are as well.

Well, white is of course a traditional colour associated with funerals and mourning in China, so anyone wearing this colour would naturally conjure up such images. But the whole Lan Clan wear these robes, not just LWJ.

And as you said, WWX admittedly associates this with the clan's robes as well. Which is funny because we also see him thinking more poetically about LWJ in those very same robes as well...

In fact, WWX himself picks white robes to wear to JLs Man Yue (满月 - full moon) celebrations! This is most likely because the colour white is also associated with purity and innocence. He wanted to give off a good impression when seeing his beloved shijie and her new baby son! Hoping to show everyone he's not the evil overlord the rumours falsely accuse him of being! Which is heartbreaking, considering what happens while he's merrily making his way there in these very robes.

Anyway, I digress!

I think this has probably derived from the CQL and theories concerning the way they had LWJ dressed in some episodes. I couldn't really comment on that though as it has been quite a few years since I watched the live action and the costumes, as beautiful as they are, aren't particularly historically, or indeed canonically, accurate either way to be honest.

So no, LWJ didn't change his attire because WWX died. Unlike what many in the fandom claim, he mourned his loss; got drunk, branded himself with the same Wen emblem and then picked himself back up to live on. Yes, he was obviously heartbroken, but he threw himself into raising the boy WWX had died to save and continued to honour his memory by telling LSZ silly stories about the real WWX and instilling the next generation with their shared morals.

What a man!

[complexsaviour]

Milgram 4th Anniversary Art Analysis Part 2/3: Haruka, Es and Yuno

Haruka

Haruka's pose sort of reminds me of Mikoto's, but it's a little looser, less organised. Similarly to Mikoto, he doesn't want to come across as a threat — wants to appear open — but he doesn't quite get it right. Like Mikoto and Shidou, his suit is fully done up. His tie is a little loose too, but I'd hazard that it's because he doesn't know how tight it should be, or hasn't noticed. His pose is largely open but one leg is still slightly bent and he's facing sideways — subtly somewhat mirroring Muu's pose, just as he does in his Trial 2 sprite art. I think the way he is holding his bouquet, in front of himself and upside down, mirrors the way he is largely quite open about and accepting of his crime, but also him as a person in the sense that he is blatantly unconventional and takes an unusual and confusing approach to things. The flowers in his bouquet are actively slipping out of it, falling on the floor, but he either doesn't care or hasn't noticed, perhaps reflecting how he has a sort of reckless approach to things and often ends up inadvertently causing damage and chafing against the status quo. He seems to know more or less how he should hold the bouquet but manages to bluntly get it the wrong way around. His hold isn't quite as secure as Mikoto's, though similar — as if he wants to similarly come across as unproblematic but isn't really sure how. He's the only male prisoner smiling with his mouth open, but his smile is sort of uncomfortable and awkward, coming across as more nervous than genuinely at ease. There's a visible small gap in the wrapper of his bouquet, which Amane's also seems to have. This is interesting to me. I'm not entirely sure what it represents...perhaps some sort of metaphorical 'crack' in their lives or their relationships with their victims, since, at least as far as I'm concerned, they were both family members?

Es

Es' demeanour is very much in fitting with their Buddhist monk garb. At first glance I wondered if their hand gesture was perhaps a Buddhist mudra, but it doesn't seem to resemble any in particular that I came across. They are wearing a Japanese Buddhist monk's regalia, complete with yukata and kasaya, as well as traditional tabi-style (thonged) shoes. It's as though they are the officiator of the funeral that everyone is dressed up to attend, which is quite fitting — as, in a way, it's their duty to put the souls of the victims to rest. Meanwhile, I believe Jackalope's outfit is more in line with the attire of a Shinto monk or clergyman. It's sort of hard to tell, but the hat at least is much more in line with Shinto clothing.

Yuno

Yuno's pose is open and relaxed, much like her attitude to her supposed crime. She's been quite open and blunt about it from the start, after all. Her outfit is a tidy school uniform, a lot like what she wore in her first music video. Like Shidou, she holds her bouquet a bit like a baby, similarly very much in view of the spectator and without pretence, but she doesn't seem quite as concerned with trying to properly support its weight as he does, and I think her pose is overall less personal and more detached — like she's only holding the 'baby' in passing. It doesn't feel like she feels any particular tethering to the 'baby' or her supposed crime. Instead, one hand, while still technically supporting the first, also holds her own arm — perhaps as if to unconsciously seek warmth and support for herself — a bit like the way Yuno supports and comforts herself in her Trial 2 music video. This pose also sort of feels to me like her way of perhaps creating a pastiche of how society expects her to be — the gentle and polite picture of a youthful mother which she so adamantly rejects.

[labrxnth]

Misery Loves Company pt 4 (Leon Kennedy x Reader series)

Part 3: Ticking Clocks and Revelation

Parts: 1 2 3

CW: body image issues, SMUT, insecurity

WC: 7338 (oops my hand slipped)

Summary: (Y/n) and Leon's dinner date is finally here

Tag list: @makimakimi

A/N: Hey all, I just wanted to say thank you for your patience over my health crisis the past week. I told you you'd get fed after it settled and I keep my promises.

The clock on the wall couldn’t have gone any slower. It felt like the ticking of it was mocking her, the face sticking its tongue out, chiding her. (Y/n) had gone over everything multiple times, so naturally she was pacing around her apartment. The heat in her apartment was suffocating when it was usually welcoming. Her carpet scraped her feet instead of feeling plush. The candles felt like they were going to catch fire, like her throat was, enveloping her being in terrifying flames. 

It had been too long since she had gone on a date. Unlike most of her coworkers, she wasn’t a fan of the drunken hook-ups that sparked rumors around the office. (Y/n)’s approach to dating was a little traditional, she would admit, but she was a poet when it came to love. She wanted a partner who she could sing songs of for years to come. Someone that she could easily see nature reflected in and vice versa. Someone she would find in paintings that artists slaved over, crafting the definition of beauty. 

She had stomped on the hope that anyone would see her that way.   

She stared at herself in the mirror, picking apart her appearance. Maybe her hair was too messy or too neat, her (h/c) hair was down and fell on her shoulders. Was it weird that she was wearing her hair differently than normal? Should she put it up in the normal ponytail that she had at work? 

Her eyes trailed out to the outfit she was wearing. It was much different than anyone had seen her in. Usually, Leon caught her in her work attire, no matter if it was at a bar or not. The clay coloured tank top showed a little bit much of her (s/c) cleavage, but again, these were her usual clothes outside of the office. The cream colored shrug that she had on was crocheted and sit high on her arms. She had necklaces upon necklaces making sure that they matched the earthy colors that she already had on. Her dusty rose colored patchwork skirt was probably going to be the biggest shock. 

Over the past few years, (y/n) had started to embrace her femininity. She realized that she didn’t have to act like a stereotypical man to be respected or to kick their asses. While that didn’t just mean that she started wearing skirts, it presented itself in that way sometimes. She was returning to the girl who loved to run in fields barefoot, picking flowers for her family. Her femininity made her happy, she just felt like she had to strip it away to be taken seriously. 

Now she was a badass STRATCOM agent that also picked flowers and wore skirts. 

Speaking of, she had spent some time after work at the flower shop. A while ago, (y/n) read an article that talked about how the first flowers some men receive were at their funeral. The rest of that day was spent in tears over how awful she thought that was. She couldn’t help but think of her partner. Had anyone ever given him flowers? Had anyone ever told him he was pretty? Maybe he was used to the rough side of love: passion, hunger, and desire. Maybe he was used to being seen as masculine, forced to fit in the box that men were often put in. She wondered if Leon ever had someone to just hold him through his emotions, a safe space for him. 

Her thoughts moved to a woman in a red dress, one that he had talked about many times. The way he talked about her made (y/n) think she was “the one that got away”. Was she ever there for him in the ways (y/n) was thinking about? 

Maybe in the back of her mind, she thought that he had just made a move on her because he knew Ada was unattainable. 

First she was thinking of the bouquet she bought for Leon, now she was spiraling, thinking that she wasn’t good enough. Her self-sabotaging nature didn’t just stop at work, it reared its ugly ass head every corner that she turned. It was seen in every significant other eventually breaking up with her, it was seen in not being allowed to go with Leon to Spain. 

Major Sierra was being a bitch earlier today, but his words still cut deep like the training knives he had them use. Her fingers ghosted the spot Leon punched, where a brutal maroon bruise was forming under her tank top. It reminded her of her failures, whether on the field or in her mind. 

This inadequacy was a plague that she couldn’t heal, even with leeches. 

The clock on the wall couldn’t have gone any slower. It felt like the ticking of it was mocking her, the face sticking its tongue out, chiding her.  

She sat down on her purple velvet couch, head in her hands. Maybe this was a mistake, she felt like mentally she was so far behind Leon. It was a win when she would go an hour without thinking something negative about herself, he exuded confidence. She pushed herself to the point of coughing up blood for recognition without it, he naturally turned heads when he walked in the door. 

Of course, (y/n) knew that Leon had his problems, but confidence seemed like it wasn’t one of them. The clock on the wall couldn’t have gone any slower. It felt like the ticking of it was mocking her, the face sticking its tongue out, chiding her.

A familiar meowing brought her back to reality. In front of her stood her long, fuzzy friend, knowing she needed a nonhuman buddy. 

“Hey, Ginge,” (Y/n) said to her calico cat, taking solace in her big yellow-green eyes. Ginger jumped up to join her on the couch, curling into her side. (Y/n) ran her fingers lightly through Ginger’s fur, using every stroke to pace her breathing. Eventually the thoughts died as easily as any plant she tried to mother. “Leon’s coming over again, this time behave,” She said to the cat. 

The slow clock on the wall instead of chiding her this time, welcomed a memory. 

“You becoming a crazy cat lady now?” Leon’s lips tugged into a smirk. 

“So what? I’m lonely,” (Y/n) said, looking at cat toys in the supermarket. Her fingers grazed against a bunch of colorful labels, trying to find the best toy for her new buddy. “And you haven't even met Ginger yet. Don’t speak ill of someone you haven’t met.”

“You haven’t even met Ginger yet,” Leon emphasized. 

“Which is why my best friend is here to meet my new best friend,” (Y/n) said simply. 

Leon chuckled, his laughter sounding like honey to her ears. “If I’m your best friend, you are lonely.” He teased. 

“Exactly! I thought you’d be all for this,” She replied defensively. 

“I’d rather go looking for people at bars with you. My experience with women could help you,” He said. 

“Hell no, keep your trash opinions to yourself, Kennedy.” 

“Suit yourself.” He said and went back to watching her eye the toys. 

The memory flashed to later that night of Ginger biting Leon’s hand and him whining about it the entire car ride home. 

Her attention got pulled back to reality when she heard a few knocks on her door. 

“Coming!” She said, almost jumping off the couch. Ginger’s eyes followed her like a shadow. The ticking of the clock echoed her heartbeat, it roaring in her ears. 

She opened the door to see Leon with two pizza boxes and a shopping bag full of beer and liquor. Seeing how he cleaned up a little bit took her off edge. He was wearing a beige leather jacket with fur on the collar and sleeve ends and a faded dad rock band t-shirt tucked into dark pants with a clean belt. 

(Y/n) noticed after looking at his outfit, seemingly running her eyes up and down him, that he was doing the same to her. 

“Uh, come in,” She said and opened the door more. Leon stepped in quickly, closing the door with his foot as soon as he walked in. He placed the pizza boxes down on the counter and opened the bag, placing the alcohol and liquor on the counter as well. 

“One freaky pizza for one freaky woman,” He said and tossed the bag in her hallway closet. 

“Thanks,” (Y/n) said and looked around the room. She was forgetting something…. She knew she was forgetting something. Ah! The flowers! 

She quickly walked over to the bouquet of dried flowers and hid it behind her back. Walking up to him, grinning almost evilly, she locked eyes with him. 

“I don’t like that look,” Leon said, removing his shoes at the door.

“Do you trust me?” She asked.

“Jesus, not this again,” He grumbled. “I hate it when you do this.”

“Just close your eyes and stick your hands out,” (Y/n) said. 

“Fine….” Leon sighed. He closed his eyes and held his hands out. She placed the bouquet in his hands and watched as he slowly opened his eyes. His face was confused as he looked at the flowers. “Flowers.” He said matter of factly. 

“I read an article that a lot of men get their first flowers at their funeral. I didn’t want one of them to be you,” She said, studying his reaction. 

His gaze softened as he processed what she said. “Yeah, I think these are the first flowers I’ve ever gotten,” He said in understanding. 

“They’re dried too, so you can’t kill them,” (Y/n) said and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Where should I put them until I leave?” Leon asked. She took them from him and put them in a flower pot. 

“Don’t make me remind you later tonight,” She said. 

“Later tonight?” Leon asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Her eyes cluelessly met his. 

“Yeah, when you leave,” She said flatly. 

“Oh,” He replied, seeming a little saddened. 

“Actually, with the alcohol you brought, you should probably stay the night. Lord knows with your record that you don’t need to add alcohol to your driving.” She said, inspecting the bottles of Fireball and Vodka. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leon’s eyes light up a bit. She also swore that she could’ve seen him staring her up and down. Her brain told her to not focus on that and just read the label on the whiskey for the 10th time. 

Ginger jumped up on the counter and started sniffing the pizza boxes. (Y/n) stared at her, expecting her to tear up the box. 

“If you try to eat that, I’m giving you to the actual crazy cat lady one floor down,” She said to the cat. Ginger stared her her, seemingly understanding her, and made her way over to Leon. She sat down on the counter in front of him, tail flicking. 

“Hey, Ginge,” Leon said and started scratching her behind the ears. Her eyes slowly closed and opened, staring at him. 

“You two have come a long way,” (Y/n) said teasingly and pulled out two glasses. 

“Not my fault she bit me,”

“Yes it absolutely was,” She replied, recalling the night. 

The two of them chuckled together for a minute and stood in silence. 

“So…. that’s a nice jacket,” (Y/n) said looking at the leather. 

“Yeah, I made the mistake of bringing my own jacket with me to Spain. One of the Ganados bastards stole it and wore it as they attacked me. I made STRATCOM reimburse me.” Leon said. 

“The bastard,” She echoed. 

“Don’t worry, I shot him,” Leon said, accepting the glass she held out for him. 

“He had it coming,” (Y/n) said. She poured a couple of Fireball shots into her glass and heard Leon whistle. Her eyes snapped up to him. 

“Drinking shots out of a dinner glass? Without measuring them? Maybe Hunnigan was right, I need to check in on you more.” He said, a slight bit of concern for her in his voice. 

“I don’t have shot glasses, what do you want from me?” She replied. She reached under the counter and grabbed two plastic plates, putting them on the counter. After a few seconds of them locking eyes, she sighed. “What? Leon S. Kennedy can afford real plates?” She asked. 

“Yes I can, and I know that you can too. We pretty much have the same paycheck,” He replied simply, his eyes flickering between her eyes and the plates. 

“Pizza is pizza no matter what it arrives on,” She said. 

“That’s the god given truth,” Leon said and opened the boxes. He gently put Ginger on the ground and started dealing out the slices. 

(Y/n) grabbed the box of her pizza and brought it over to the couch. Leon raised his eyebrow and followed suit. 

“What?” She could feel his eyes peering into the back of her head, almost searching for something. 

“You know, they say that orphanage kids don’t have manners because we aren’t taught them. I thought that was true until I met you,” He said teasingly. 

“Don’t tell me you always have dinner at the table,” 

“It gets everywhere if you don’t,”

“Maybe if you eat like a pig, oh wait, weren’t you going to be one? No wonder why.” She gave him intense side eye with a grin tugging on her lips. 

“Yeah well, you also work for the government now,” Leon started. “That means, you’re a poser. God forbid the punk community you like so much finds out you work for the privatized American government’s military.”

(Y/n) stared at him in horror, almost dropping the slice of pizza she had in her hand. “Take it back,” She said. He gave her a shit eating grin back. “Take it back or I’ll wring your neck.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise,” (Y/n) said. 

“If you can get to me, I’ll gladly let you,” Leon said smugly. 

“I can down you on the mats, don’t forget it, Kennedy,” She replied and stuffed the slice of pizza in her mouth. 

After about 20 minutes of the back and forth banter, (Y/n) stood up to put her pizza box in the fridge; she gestured for Leon to hand her his and he did. Walking over to the fridge she could tell he was still staring at her. 

“Working for STRATCOM pretty much means you have eyes in the back of your head, I can feel you staring at me,” She said and closed the fridge door. 

“I’m just lost in thought,” He replied. 

“About what?” She grabbed the glasses on the counter filled with alcohol and brought them over to the couch. 

“About how this feels like every other time I’ve come here,” He said, staring into her eyes and taking the glass from her.

“What’s so bad about that?” (Y/n) asked him, keeping her eyes locked on his. 

“This is a date, (y/n),” Leon said. “Did I not make that clear?” 

She broke the gaze, looking at the whiskey in her glass. “Oh,” She said. In her peripheral, she could see Leon still staring at her. He put his drink down on the side table and quickly did the same with hers.

He lifted her chin up so that she was looking in his eyes again. The distance between them closed, until he was inches away from her face. So close, yet so far. (Y/n) was ready for him to kiss her, why did he stop? He looked like he was fighting with himself, asking the same question in his own mind. 

His blue eyes tore into hers, searching for an answer to a question unasked. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asked. “You’ve always been striving to be the best at work, but it’s gotten worse the past three weeks.” 

“It’s nothing,”

“It’s nothing?” The two of them said together, (y/n) stating and Leon asking. Even by partner standards, Leon was always able to read her like a book and make her feel like she couldn’t hide anything from him. 

She sighed and felt his hand move away from her chin. Maybe the person that she thought was building walls wasn’t the person staring back at her. But like he did, she was willing to take a hammer to the wall she built up, trying to keep herself safe. “I just…. I feel like I’m not good enough for anything,” She said and looked around the room. 

“Why?” He asked.

“What happened three weeks ago?” (Y/n) asked redundantly, staring back at him. Her eyes drifted down to his jacket as a hint. 

Leon ran his hands through his hair and sighed, his brows furrowing together. “I tried to bring you with me, I begged them,” Leon said. 

“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself,” She replied. “Obviously I wasn’t good enough for them to think of sending me.” She stared at the cushion below her through her glass that she had picked back up. 

“Uh-uh. You are not going to spiral into self doubt again. I thought we worked on this,” He put his hand on her cheek, caressing it. 

She melted into his touch. Most people thought that his demeanor is cold, unsuspecting, but she knew that he was like a blue flame; an intense warmth, desperate to help others. (Y/n) was Icarus’s wings, longing to succeed; Leon was the sun, melting her down until she was vulnerable. 

“(Y/n), talk to me. I thought that you were doing better. You told me that you were doing better.” He said, making her look into his eyes. The same eyes where his blue flame of a soul was kept. Those eyes could make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up whether it was on an assignment, on the training mats, or in a bar. Now, they were a gentle kind of heat, the one that you crave after being in the cold for so long. 

Searching in his eyes, she could tell that she had been wrong about her partner all these years. Yes, there was hesitation and mixed feelings towards her, but he was always him with her. She was truly the one that had built the brick wall between them that she so pictured him placing brick by brick. Even the act of picking back up the glass had been to put a safety in between them. Just like he had torn down his side, she needed to tear down hers.

“I just want to be seen,” She said, trying to hold back tears. “My whole life has felt like I’ve been trying to prove that I deserve to exist.” She was clinging onto the glass in her hands like it was an anchor in an oncoming tsunami. “It’s been bad lately because I’ve built this wall between us since you got the call for the assignment. And I just feel worse and worse about it because you just had, like, the shittiest thing happen to you since Raccoon City, but I’m here spiraling in my self-doubt and pity.” 

Leon leaned forward on the couch, his eyes still trying to unpack the verbal dam that she just opened up. He took her glass and put it down again, almost asking her if she was going to keep putting things between them. Just like in her office, (Y/n) could feel the energy sparking between them, like flint and steel trying to light a fuel line that wasn’t producing any fuel.  

He took his jacket off, placing it on the back of the sofa, moving slowly like she would bolt anytime he made too sudden of a movement. As opposed to that, his arms quickly wrapped around her, bringing her close to him. 

Not only did he pull her into an embrace, he took his jacket off to make it skin to skin. To make it personal and intimate. To make it human. 

Once her brain processed the information, the tears she was holding back fell. He held her, comfortably yet securely, for a couple minutes, letting her silently cry into him. 

After the tears stopped, he pulled (y/n) back slightly so they could see each others’ faces. His next three words shocked her to her very being, feeling like a shock to her body and mind. 

“I see you,” He said. 

And just like that, any semblance of the wall between them was beaten down. She sat there, her brain once again trying to do mental gymnastics to pick up on what he said. 

“You’re good enough for me,” His voice cut through to her heart again.

(Y/n) sat there for a good second, still reeling from what he was saying to her. She was too spaced out to realize his expression change from concern to something she couldn’t track. No, it wasn’t that she couldn’t track it, it was just that no one had looked at her like this before. 

No one had truly looked at her with sadness, empathy, and love all at once.  

His calloused fingers wiped the tears away and her mind shot to other thoughts feeling them against her skin- 

Her eyes widened and she mentally kicked herself as her brain was trying to get her to indulge on how she thought those same long strong fingers would feel in other places. 

“(Y/n)?” Leon asked, calling her back to reality. She thanked whatever higher power was watching right now. 

Her eyelids dropped back down to normal, but it was too long for Leon not to notice her change. He noticed her pupils dilating, her eyes widening. How her breathing hitched just slightly, being too quiet for a normal person to pick up on. How in his peripheral the tank top she was wearing was tighter around hardening nipples- 

Leon swallowed hard, trying to not make the situation awkward. Suddenly, his jeans felt a little more cramped than he would’ve liked them to; he was hoping that the night would go like this, but he wasn’t about to make a move on her until she was in a good mental space. 

Without second thought, (y/n) draped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Instead of the tender, questioning kiss, from her office, this kiss knew what it wanted. It clawed at each of them, demanding more, the heat between them building up instantly. 

She went to pull off her sweater, Leon’s hands grabbing hers. They pulled away from the kiss and his eyes stared into his, hungrier than he was standing across from her on the training mats; the look gave her a shiver down her spine. 

“Do you want this?” He asked clearly, his voice low and dark. 

“Yes,” (Y/n) said, still breathless from the kiss. 

“Tell me what you want,” He said slowly, his eyes changing from staring at her through his eyebrows to looking down at her, towards his cheeks. 

“God, I want you to fuck me, Leon Kennedy.” She replied, her eyes dripping with want, no need for the man in front of her. 

He swiftly put one hand on the back of the couch and one on the arm rest, caging her between his arms. His lips her on hers again, this kiss even more ferocious than the one before. 

Leon’s teeth were biting at her lower lip, asking her to open wide. (Y/n) opened her mouth slightly and felt his tongue force his way in, opening her mouth more. His tongue devoured the inside of her mouth, discontent with the speed and intensity wanting more. 

(Y/n) had to pull away for a breath, a string of spit connecting him until it was broken by distance. Leon’s lips were suddenly on her neck, wanting contact at all times. His kisses felt like they were ravenging her; stripping away her very being, not satisfied until her skin was peeled back, revealing her insides. 

(Y/n)’s breath hitched and she moaned, her eyes suddenly widening and the back of her hand covering her mouth. A blush devoured her face like Leon’s lips were her neck. His eyes darted up to hers when he heard the slight sound and he grabbed her wrist. 

“Fuck, you’re not hiding that from me,” He growled against her neck, pulling her hand away from her mouth. 

He focused on the spot that brought her sound, going harsher on it, pleading her body to make the same sound. To his excitement, a moan came from the back of her throat, Leon being able to feel it through her neck. The vibrations seemed to travel down his own body and straight to his dick. Earlier when his pants were slightly uncomfortable and cramped was nothing compared to now. It took all of his self restraint to not rip both of their clothes off and fuck her until she was howling; the thought of it didn’t help his quickly growing erection. 

He pulled her sweater off of her shoulders, the action creating goosebumps on (y/n)’s skin. Her own hands were trying to get his shirt off, but his lips refused to leave her neck. Leon’s lips dug deeper in her, teeth biting marks and his tongue calming them down immediately. 

He pulled away after making a few bruises and straddled her, reaching down to cross both his arms and lift his shirt off. 

The small act of him doing this made (y/n)’s brain restart. The way his hands roughly grasped the fabric, his forearms and biceps flexing as they crossed each other was like seeing a statue carved out of pure marble. His ashy blonde hair fell with gravity, looking like how it did when he reached down to pick up his knife. His eyes that were usually bright blue, calculating yet kind, were dark; his pupils were blown with lust and desire. If he looked like a statue taking off his shirt then he looked like a replica of a greek god when it was off. And (y/n) was more than ready to be his worshiper. 

“You really do have a staring problem,” He said smugly, a smirk pulling at his puffy pink lips, his usual demeanor coming back for a second. 

“Can’t help it when I have such a good subject to look at,” She replied. 

His face shifted back to the hungry and desperate stare. Starting at her earlobe, Leon traced two fingers along her jawline, stopping under her chin, pulling it up to meet his eyes again. (Y/n) thought her heart was going to give out at the action. She felt herself throb around nothing, a slight wetness starting to pool in her underwear.

“Be a good girl and tell me what you want again,” He said grinning, his eyes undressing her.   

She couldn’t stop a “Holy shit,” from leaving her mouth. Her breathing picked up, feeling like she was a goner. 

Leon chuckled. “Someone likes praise,” He mused and sprawled his hand around her neck, lightly ghosting it. “Use your words, Baby,” His voice sounded full, dark, like she had never heard it before. The wetness pooling in her underwear felt like it was dripping down her thigh now. She had equated Leon to the sun and herself to Icarus’ wings, now she was feeling that reality; her body was turning into putty in his hands and he had only touched her face and neck. 

She knew she would’ve folded if he asked her to, but this was going faster than she thought. 

“I want you to fuck me,” (Y/n) said again, truly being lost in her words and the situation. 

“Alright, I’m gonna tell you the plan,” He kept his light grip on her neck and the steel look of hunger. (Y/n) could have sworn he was looking at her like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks was looking at a buffet. “First, I’m going to make you cum on my fingers, then my mouth, then a couple times on my dick.” He ran his other hand through his hair, looking down at her through his eyelashes. 

(Y/n) thought her heart was going to stop before, she could’ve sworn it did for about 5 seconds when those words dripped out of Leon’s mouth. She felt a pang in her chest, her blood ran cold. 

She knew she was fucked, and she couldn’t have been happier. 

“I’ve never came more than once,” She said sheepishly, her breath still hitching. 

“God damn, I should’ve done this earlier then,” He huffed. He moved off of her to kneel in between her knees; his arms pulled her so she was completely flat on the couch. The sudden movement made her wince and yelp from the injury on her stomach. His eyes met hers, recognizing the sounds as pain and not pleasure. “You okay?” He asked sternly. 

(Y/n) nodded, but he didn’t take it as an answer. He pulled her tank top up to reveal the maroon and yellow bruise, hissing when he saw it. 

“I was going to fuck you until you became part of the couch,” He said, his voice having a hint of disappointment. 

“I’m fine, it doesn't hurt too much,” She lied. 

His eyes met hers in a cold stare. “I know how much power I put into that, it definitely does hurt,” he replied coldly. 

“I can ignore it,” (y/n) replied, not wanting to get rid of the feeling in the room that had sprouted from the kiss. 

He watched her for a second, like a predator watches their prey right before they pounce. “Fine,” He sighed. “If it gets too much, make sure you tell me to stop.”

“I’d be crazy to miss an opportunity to get fucked into oblivion by you,”

“God, the things that you do to me,” He said before sliding her skirt down to reveal her very soaked underwear. “My point,” he added, looking at how wet she was already, his dick twitching in his jeans. His fingers flung her skirt completely off of her legs, immediately going to the fabric she was still wearing. She bit her bottom lip as he teased her folds, thumb lightly pushing on her clit, just enough that she could feel the pressure. Her eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed, trying to not cum on him from just that. 

His eyes trailed up her body to her face and his blood froze. Seeing her all flustered with her eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows knit, and lips slightly apart to breathe was driving him fucking insane. “Fuck this,” He said and ripped her underwear off her legs. 

His middle finger slid into her pussy, quickly making sure she was ready, then slipping in his ring finger. 

(Y/n) moaned at the sudden friction in her. Her back arched as he curled his fingers, hitting spots that she didn't know existed. He licked his thumb and swiped at her clit, finding it almost immediately and sending her nerves into overdrive. His fingers slid in and out of her at a fairly moderate pace, Leon being scared of going too hard at first. 

He wanted so bad to kiss her again, but he couldn’t stop looking at how even just his fingers affected her. The hand around (y/n)’s neck lightly pressed in, him searching her eyes for any sign of dislike. Instead, he felt her pussy start to clench around him and saw her lip starting to tremble. He sped his fingers up, wanting her to be shaking as she came all over his fingers. Her back arched more and he sped up, thumb abusing her clit. (Y/n) felt her body start to shake and involuntarily grabbed the wrist that was almost in her. Leon was too strong and kept going, pushing an orgasm out of her. The pleasure that hit her was like a wave smacking a flood wall.  

She moaned loudly and felt her pussy throb around his fingers, heat following it.

Once she came down from it, her eyes opened to meet Leon’s. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them, keeping eye contact. 

“Taste so good,” He said lowly. He took the time to unbuckle his pants, throwing them to the floor. (Y/n)’s eyes widened at the side of his outline in his boxers. She had heard him complaining about having to wear athletic cups during training before, but now she knew why. Her eyes went back to him licking his fingers. After he was done, he pushed her towards the arm rest to give himself room. Letting go of her neck, he dropped onto his stomach and looked at her. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” He said. (Y/n) nodded and looked at him as he wrapped his arms around her thighs. He pulled her into his mouth, tongue lapping at her clit. His calculating eyes never left hers. She grabbed onto the couch to ground herself, but it wasn’t sufficing, her hands grabbed onto his hair, lightly pulling at it. 

He whimpered, sending shivers down her spine and felt her pussy start to clench again from the vibration. His whimper sounded like heaven to her; the blush on his face making (y/n) move her hips to ride his face. 

Leon pulled her even closer to his face, tongue fucking her while his nose hit her clit. 

“Fuck, Leon,” she moaned his name and that was the breaking point for him. 

He pulled away suddenly and looked at her, heavily breathing. “You’re making me break my promise,” He growled. 

“What?” (Y/n) asked, dazed. 

“I can’t wait, guess you’ll just have to cum on my dick three times instead of two,” He said, pulling down his boxers and throwing them on the ground. (Y/n) watched as his dick sprung out of them; if she didn’t have self control, she’d be drooling. Earlier she had equated him to a Greek god, the more she saw of him only further proved her point. His tip was red and leaking pre-cum already, his breath hitched when he noticed her staring. 

Leon grabbed (y/n), flipping her over so that she was stomach down on the couch; how fast and seamless he did it took her breath away. He pulled her up so that her back was to his chest and she was sitting on his thighs. All she could feel was the warmth of his body spreading to her.

“Sorry, got a little too excited,” His breath was low and hot in her ear. His fingers ghosted the bruise on her stomach. 

“Don’t stop,” (y/n) pleaded.

“Fuck,” Leon replied, his voice desperate for her. He slightly lifted her up, easing her onto his dick. They both moaned, sounding like a choir of pleasure. (Y/n) leaned her head back on his shoulder and bit her lip as he bottomed out. They stayed melted in this moment for a few seconds, both not wanting to let go of it. Slowly Leon started pulling himself out, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling and hip lips ghosting words that he couldn’t form; he didn’t have to say anything for (y/n) to know what he wanted to. 

Like a cord being snapped, Leon set an excruciating pace. He put two of his fingers in her mouth, nonverbally telling her to lick them; she did so and he pulled them out, circling them around her clit. His other hand took her tank top off and cupped her breast, to physically support her and to emotionally support himself. At her neck, he went to leaving kisses and bitemarks, wanting everyone to know that she was his.

(Y/n)’s thighs involuntarily tightened, feeling another climax. Leon felt her tighten around his dick and he moaned; he detached his mouth from her neck and the hand that was on her breast moved under her chin. He pulled her chin up so she was looking behind herself and into his eyes. 

“Cum for me,” He commanded. 

As if on cue, her body sent her through another orgasm. Her pussy convulsed around Leon’s dick and her fingers dug into his hips behind her. (Y/n) moaned as her back arched, screaming his name like it was a song made for a lover. And in a way, it was. Her eyes started to close as she was riding out her climax, but Leon’s hand wrapped around her neck, slightly pushing in. 

“Keep your eyes on me (y/n),” He demanded. She was expecting to open her eyes to see him stoic, staring down at her like he always did when he downed her on the training mats. Instead, when she opened them, she saw that he was as much of a mess as she was. His bangs were sticking to his forehead from sweat, his eyes were fixed on her and his pupils were blown wide from desire. His cheeks had blush all over them, his eyebrows were raised, and his lip was starting to quiver. 

The sight of him looking at her like she meant as much as he meant to her was enough to send her into another orgasm. As her body convulsed again, moans escaped her lips like every orgasm was the first one She saw a vein popping out of Leon’s neck and his jaw set, something 

that she knew meant he was trying his fucking best to focus. 

His pace became quicker, hungrier, as his dick slammed into her almost stretching out her cervix. (Y/n)’s thighs shook as overstimulation washed over her; she could hear and feel everything five times more than she had before. She felt the muscles on his thighs tighten and relax with each violent thrust, she felt his arms hot around her as the hand that was abusing her clit moved to above her bruise. She could feel every sweat drop on either of their bodies, and she could feel her insides getting shredded, she could hear her guts getting rearranged; (y/n) was pretty sure she died and went to heaven. 

Leon moved desperately as he could feel his own climax coming. It was taking all of his strength he built up over the past 6 years to not cum as soon as she first pulsed around his dick; she felt better than anything he could have imagined, and better than he had imagined her being. 

(Y/n) heard him starting to moan and whimper as he was getting close. His thrusts were trying to swallow her very being, One of her hands moved to the hair on the back of his neck and he pulled her closer, flush against his chest. Leon moaned her name in her ear like it was a word only he knew. His dick twitching in her while hitting spots that she thought were impossible, his moans that were music to her ears, and her overstimulation were sending her into another high. The only sounds that came out of her mouth were yelps, moans, and whimpers as her whole body became hot. 

“Fuck, (y/n) I’m gonna-” His voice broke. 

With one final thrust, she could feel him twitching inside of her; spilling his cum and painting her pussy walls white. He rode out his climax and it sent her into another screaming one. Their moans filled the room together, a harmony of pleasure and love. Leon slowed his thrusting down, stopping once they were both down from their climax. 

The hand that was on her neck moved to be with the other one, wrapped around her waist. He kissed her shoulder and gently pulled her off of him. (Y/n) fell into the couch, turning over so her back would be on the cushions. Leon rubbed her thighs and smiled gently down at her. Getting up, he went to get a towel from the hallway closet.

He sat down on the couch and gingerly wiped her off. “You okay?” He asked, his eyes floating to hers that were still dazed. 

“Mmmh, yeah,” She said slowly and lazily. Her body felt like it was done sprinting a marathon. 

“I’ll go get you some water,” Leon chuckled, cleaning himself off. He went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, bringing it back to (y/n). “Your bruise still okay?”

“At this point I wouldn’t care if it hurt,” She said, voice hoarse. Sitting up, she grabbed the water that Leon was holding out to her and drank. His hand gently went to her neck as she drank and his eyes never let hers. 

(Y/n) never had someone look at her like how Leon had this entire night or even just in this moment. For some reason, this felt more intimate than the back breaking sex they just had. She wished that she could bottle up this moment and keep it to look at because she recognized the look in his eyes. He could sing songs of her for years to come. He could easily see nature reflected in her and vice versa. He could find her in paintings that artists slaved over, crafting the definition of beauty. 

She finally found someone that reflected the love she gave out. 

“I’m guessing I’m not sleeping on the couch?” Leon asked, still looking at her like she was the love that musicians wrote about. 

“Absolutely not,” She replied, handing him the bottle that had half of its water still in it. He took a few sips and put it on the side table. They sat together in silence, looking at each other, taking in each other’s beauty. Yes, they were sweaty and yes their hair was everywhere, but they were each others’ works of art and that’s what made them the most beautiful people in the world. 

“I’m going to carry you to bed, okay?” He asked. 

“‘Kay,” (Y/n) replied. 

Leon stood up and picked her up, carrying her bridal style to her cushiony bed. “Sorry it was on the couch,” He mumbled under his breath. 

“We’ll just have to save it for another time then,” She replied and chuckled. Her back gently hit the mattress and she wanted to instantly fall asleep. 

“Do you want to sleep with clothes on or off?” Leon asked. “I’ll grab our clothes from the living room.”

“I’m too tired to put my clothes on, you’re fine,” (Y/n) said, pulling the covers down. Leon got in and instantly wrapped his arms around her waist, careful to not touch her bruise. She pulled the covers over them and nestled into his chest, smiling up at him. They stayed wrapped in each other, without talking for a couple of minutes.

“If Ginger didn’t hate me before, she does now,” Leon said and chuckled. 

“Huh?” (Y/n) looked up at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I think we just traumatized her,” 

“Don’t worry, she tries to fuck the neighborhood stray every weekend, it’s payback.” (Y/n) said.

“I guess you and her have that in common,” Leon smirked. 

“I can still set up the pull out couch,” 

“I take it back,” He replied. 

(Y/n) didn’t know when they stopped talking. The night was peaceful and sleep lulled her to accept it, the clock that usually chided her following suit. (Y/n) also didn’t know when she fell asleep to the sound of Leon’s heartbeat and his rhythmic breathing. 

[hoshianaarts]

Finally, another character poster for my upcoming comic, "Ang Timbangan sa Daragangan" (The Scale of A Hero). I was inspired by Barangay Sixteenth Century Philippine Culture and Society, the batik patterns for the backgrounds and his attire, and most of all, a webinar Beyond Filipiniana Season 3 from Karakoa Productions. His name is BAKHAW, meaning 'mangrove' in Bisayan language. He is a Timawa (warrior vassal and freeman), and an expert in playing Lantuy or Tolali. He likes to wear the ceremonial clothing known as Lihin-Lihin and to put Antuwanga (Hibiscus) on his hair.

FACTS:

According to the context provided in Barangay Sixteenth Century Philippine Culture and Society by a historian William Henry Scott, the Lantuy is considered one of the quieter instruments. It was traditionally played indoors during nighttime and was meant to imitate the mournful sound of a human voice through shakes and trills. This style of playing was deemed appropriate for wakes and funerals.

Banig is a traditional handwoven mat from the Philippines that is typically used as a sleeping mat or a floor mat. The weaving technique used to create the diamond pattern is known as "Amakan."

PS: I'll give more details about my upcoming artworks, comic series, and Pre-colonial Visayas. Stay tuned for more updates!

[tanyaschampagne]

5 details from the funeral scene that I think about too much

dissecting the funeral scene in The Gilded Age and why it told us more about Anne and Patrick’s family life than any other moment in season 1

I’ve been rewatching the first four episodes like a maniac waiting for season 2 to come along, and recently I’ve noticed a few too many little details that normal (speak: sane) people may have not caught onto that I thought were worth pointing out.

1. The children.

The funeral scene is the only one where we see the Morris children in the entirety of the show. Anne mentions the kids towards the end of episode 3, saying that “Will is upstairs” and “Louise is on her way” moments before Patrick takes his life. Patrick then proceeds to praise them and their family life, and what good children Anne has managed to raise (all to her getting suspicious that something must be wrong - which in itself is a big enough implication to dissect in a different post). Up until the opening scene of episode 4 we don’t know how old the children are, only the blood-stained picture in Patrick’s room, right before the credits roll at the end of episode 3 gives us a hint that Louise is the older sibling, that’s all.

Then, we see them at the funeral. And I have so much respect for whatever those two extras (never found out their names, but shout-out to those two!!) did playing those kids for a few seconds. Will is clearly in shock, completely dissociating (considering he was the one who was upstairs to find Patrick dead on the floor before Anne could rush up the stairs… yeah…). Like, that child is going THROUGH IT.

I fully love the little attention to making them seem grown-up but clearly they aren’t. Will with the cane and hat, looking like he cosplayed as an adult (especially with all the other men around him wearing similar attire). Louise has the same hairstyle and stance as Anne and you can just see this little girl trying to be like her mother. It’s so headcanon but this moment truly proves that Anne was completely idolised as this unbreakable force in Louise’s life, that this child is even trying to keep it together after her father died, and it’s just so gut-wrenching because Anne clearly can’t keep it together.

2. White carnation.

It’s a short frame, barely recognisable. But the only flower laid at Patrick’s grave is the one Anne puts on top of the coffin. White carnation. While carnations are a pretty traditional flower for funerals, white carnations in particular convey deep sorrow. As they’re usually linked to innocence and purity, as well as loyal love, they were used to mourn children gone too soon; to mourn those gone under circumstances that were not in their hands. The fact that Anne chose white carnation, rather than red carnation (which is the traditional pick for a widow as it symbolises passionate and admirable love), shows just how much she was convinced that Patrick’s untimely death was not his fault nor an act tainting his name. And her silence paired with the white carnation is the perfect counterpart to the later rather loud comment by a family member on how he doesn’t even deserve a grave to begin with.

3. The Fanes and their relation to the family.

When the camera pans higher above the crowd, we see the other people that attended the funeral. Right next to Anne and the children are two other couples, the rest of the family is opposite them, with the grave separating the two sides.

With the back and forth between the funeral scene and the scene at the town hall of George and the aldermen looking at the blueprints which takes place simultaneously, it adds meaning that Charles Fane, an alderman himself, skipped the meeting to attend his friend’s funeral. (We’re gonna overlook how quickly Charles threw Patrick’s legacy under the bus after finding himself in a similarly tough financial situation).

The more notable thing however, is the fact that Aurora and Charles are standing right next to Patrick’s immediate family - Anne and the children - implying their connection to the family was closer than simply friendship. They would be standing farther away… if they weren’t tied to Anne and the children, e.g. by being the kids’ godparents. This theory would explain not only why they’re standing where they’re standing but also why later, while everybody else quite literally turns their back on Anne and the children during the departure, Aurora and Charles take the carriage right behind theirs, walking with them. It also explains why Charles was willing to aid Patrick if his debt hadn’t been that big of a financial ruin, and (without the queercoding etc) why Aurora’s betrayal is such a devastating revelation to Anne.

4. Aurora being the only one to look at Anne, and the only one to follow her.

Just as I mentioned, Aurora and Charles are the only ones to walk behind the Morrises after the funeral. The small crowd dissolves in all directions but throughout the whole scene nobody looks at Anne or acknowledges her grief. Quite the contrary: from the distant side of the family, a ginger woman spends the only dialogue of the scene shittalking Patrick and how he didn’t deserve to be buried in consecrated ground (which earns her quite the deathglare from Aurora). (quick psa: I DO believe that the woman is supposed to be Anne’s “unbearable aunt Susan” from episode 2, which Patrick mentions as they walk up the stairs to the Russell House, right after Anne makes the Dido reference).

I'll let the GIFs speak for themselves - cause the cinematography is insanely heavy with implications of loyalty and support.

also, Aurora looking at Anne, then looking at Charles, then initiating them following Anne and the children?? (I am madly sobbing)

5. Anne losing her balance.

The entire scene, Anne spends in devastation, don’t get me wrong. But it’s quiet devastation. She doesn’t say a word, you don’t see her cry, you barely see her face as the veil covers all her features. She doesn’t turn to lean on anybody, she doesn’t sob or embrace her children. Even though she’s grieving, she’s very much still the poised woman of high society, and it shows. Until, right at the end of the scene, she walks over to the carriage with the children and finally let’s go. As she’s about to get into the carriage, she loses her balance, ever so slightly, and a gloved hand comes to her help, steadying her. Without a word, she tries to overplay it, gets in, and lowers her head. Her children sit across from her.

totally not gonna put the little not-so fun fact here that this was the final filming day of the entirety of the first season and that katie and kelli wrapped together - totally not gonna do that and add to the devastation that this was the last scene they filmed together before katie was written out of the show

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday. Though one of these facts is a fib!

Minch, Yoda’s first name is.

Bananas have more trade regulations than AK-47s.

About 20% of US children eat pizza on any given day.

In Oklahoma, it's illegal to get a bear drunk and then wrestle it.

The original Popeye got his strength from rubbing a magic hen.

Persistent hiccups can be stopped with a digital rectal massage.

The average IQ of all the serial killers who have been caught is 89.

Samuel L. Jackson was an usher at Martin Luther King Jr.’s funeral.

French employees are forbidden by law from eating lunch at their desks.

Ejaculation from a human typically happens at a speed of around 28 miles per hour.

The longer a whiskey is aged, the longer it takes for your body to get rid of the alcohol.

When the Bakerloo line was last cleaned, staff pulled out 6.5 tonnes of grime and fluff.

American judges give harsher sentences when their football team unexpectedly loses.

In Star Trek, when Mr. Spock says something is “impossible”, it happens 83% of the time.

People suffering from superior canal dehiscence syndrome can hear their own eyeballs moving.

If you make it to the airport without dying, you've already passed the deadliest part of plane travel.

In 2016, the head of MI6 said he wouldn’t hire James Bond because he does not act ethically enough.

The US National Security Agency has asked employees to spy on people with ‘dignity and respect’.

‘Russians in the gazebo’ (‘russere i lysthuset’) is an old-fashioned Danish euphemism for menstruation.

If you wanted to write a letter out of blood you would have to write it in under a minute before the blood thickens too quickly.

Having sex uses on average 2.8 times as much energy as sitting on the sofa, but playing the trombone uses 3.5 times as much.

If you get a blood transfusion but are given the wrong type of blood (A, B, O, AB) one of the symptoms is "a sense of impending doom".

Until the 1840s, there was no maximum size for a rugby team; matches were played with up to 300 players on the pitch at once.

In relationships, the ‘magic ratio’ is 5:1. Having five or more positive interactions for every negative interaction is seen as key to a stable marriage.

There are about 40 supervolcanoes around the world capable of claiming up to a billion lives, and we're about 24,000 years overdue for an eruption!

A flapjack bakery in Lancashire plan to launch a new product in time for Christmas. After extensive research, they’ve come up with a product name: Flaps.

In movies, where they use real life dog actors, the people who edit the film sometimes have to add CGI tails because the dogs can’t stop wagging as they are so happy.

Abraham Lincoln's son (Robert Todd Lincoln) was present at three different presidential assassinations. After McKinley, he decided not to accept any more invitations.

Dragonflies can inhale water through a long tube at the tip of their anus and save it. Later, if they need to, they can shoot the water out of their anus to make them fly faster.

Pythagoras drowned a student to death because the student proved the existence of irrational numbers which contradicted Pythagoras and his cults' (the brotherhood) beliefs.

In 1997, researchers discovered a giant pill millipede. It was given the Latin name ‘Zoosphaerium darthvaderi’ thanks to the shape of its anal shield which resembles Darth Vader’s helmet.

The mayor of San Pedro Huamelula, Mexico is expected to marry an alligator. The tradition dates back to pre-Hispanic times but has been updated. The alligator wears a white wedding dress and the groom kisses the bride.

An early use of ‘asshole’ is found in a 1933 U.S. story about a family called ‘The Eastons’. “When God got the job done, there was a big pile of assholes left over. It looks to me like The Almighty just throwed all them assholes together and made the Easton family.”

Pepsi once had the 6th largest military in the world after the price of Russian Vodka couldn't cover a deal for Pepsi products. They traded 17 submarines, a frigate, a cruiser and a destroyer. The president of Pepsi Co. told National Security, "We are disarming the USSR faster than you are!"

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[4me4you]

4me4you Features - “OVERSIZED SUIT”.

4me4you features the artist Liam Walker-  “OVERSIZED SUIT”.

The exhibition titled "Oversized Suit" draws its name from one of the showcased paintings, "Oversized Funeral Suit." Like all of Walker's paintings, "Oversized Funeral Suit" is, to some extent, autobiographical. 

This piece captures his memory of returning to Bradford, his hometown, for a funeral. Due to travel constraints, he lacked appropriate attire and ended up wearing an ill-fitting, oversized suit. 

This experience was particularly distressing for him, as he was preoccupied with his appearance at a solemn event, a concern seemingly unnoticed by others. 

This blend of awareness and absurdity permeates the entire exhibition. For Walker, expressing his anxieties and reflections through his art is an intrinsic act, making his works and himself inseparable.

Walker excels in capturing the peculiarities of everyday life. 

He draws inspiration predominantly from his memories, which are inherently chaotic and distorted, with multiple dimensions often collapsing into a single moment. 

Consequently, many of his works are set in environments that feel familiar yet subtly suggest an alternate, dystopian reality. 

Some scenes linger in his mind for years before they materialise on canvas. For instance, the idea for "My Bully" emerged nine years ago but only recently found its way onto the surface. 

His paintings consistently evoke a sense of surrealism—not in the traditional art historical sense but through a lens of mundane strangeness. Walker's art conveys a shared sense of discontentment that resonates universally. He describes his own work as melancholic, even as he experiments with lighter, pastel colours in the post-pandemic era.

SEE MORE:

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/liamwalkerart/

[laxyaklovesloz]

The Legend of Zelda: Real Courage 2: Dark Mirror | Chapter Twenty: A King’s Funeral

The funeral was held early the next morning, too early for Lila’s taste. Zale felt a lump in his throat as he prepared for the ceremony. He let tears fall as he put on his special clothing and looked in the mirror. He appeared more regal than he felt. He felt like a lonely little boy about to say goodbye to his father for the last time.

He looked at his eyes in the mirror and steadied himself. Memories of his father’s life came into his mind. He would remember the happy times, however few, and not the sad times. He would make the funeral a celebration, not a day of mourning.

In the Temple of Time, adjacent to Hyrule Castle, crowds gathered awaiting the day’s events. Hyrulians of every race came to pay their respects to the fallen king and witness the rise of the new king. Hylians were predominant, but there were also Gorons and Zoras.

The generals held a place of honor at the front of the crowd. With them were their spouses and their children. They all wore their most ceremonial attire. Even Lila was given a fancy outfit to wear, and she adorned the Master Sword proudly.

Lila and Salvatore escorted Zale to the Temple of Time when he was ready. No one had the heart to speak, but Zale held Lila’s hand the whole while.

Zale was pleased to see that Impa had returned. She wore traditional Hylian armor to blend in. Zale wondered if there were other Sheikah in attendance and glanced around, looking for white hair and red eyes. He caught sight of a Sheikah woman standing near Ella and Nellie. Good. Presumably, that was Ella’s new guard. Zale would have to compliment Impa on her speedy work.

Before Zale entered the ceremony room, Salvatore went forward to announce him. The crowd bowed until Zale and LIla were seated near the casket. Ella was already there, and Zale wondered if she had been announced like he had. He watched the crowd. They were whispering and pointing at Ella, a strange girl so high in the ranks and so beautifully dressed. Zale deduced that she had not been announced. That would be his job later on.

While looking at the crowd, Zale was surprised to see Link, Zelda, and even Rova. He caught Zelda’s eye and gave her a nod. Some of those around them looked around to see who the prince was nodding to. Link, Zelda, and Rova pulled their hoods closer over their heads.

Zale then turned his attention to the room. It was beautiful, with stained-glass windows lining the upper part of the walls. The images depicted were of important events in Hyrule’s history, including the Twilight War. Prominently displayed at the head of the room were the glass images of the Hero of Courage, the Princess of Wisdom, and the Wizard of Power. A calmness came over Zale as he looked at the portrait of the princess.

A few flowers decorated the room. A large bouquet of warm safflinas rested upon the king’s casket. Two portraits of the king stood as sentinels on either side of the casket, completing the decorations.

It came time for the funeral ceremony to start, and Eugene took his place in front of the casket. He was wearing the same robes as yesterday.

“Hyruleans, we gather here today to honor a great man, King Gaepora Nohansen Hyrule. As advisor to the king, I had the pleasure of getting to know him personally.”

Eugene gave a moving speech that taught Zale some things about his father he didn’t know. Afterward, the Royal Choir sang a beautiful hymn. Then, Eugene performed the ceremonial magic that made the casket disappear in a flash of light. In its place, a mask hovered, turning in the colored lights of the stained-glass windows. Eugene took the mask in both hands and, walking slowly and deliberately, presented it to Zale. Tears slid down his cheeks as he beheld the face of his father.

Eugene bent down and whispered, “I’m sorry for your loss. That goes in the Royal Treasury.”

Zale nodded his thanks since his throat was choked up.

Eugene returned to his place and bowed to the crowd. Everyone bowed back to him, including Zale and the royal party. There was a moment of silence with everyone’s heads hanging low. Then Eugene straightened up, signaling for everyone to do the same, and said, “This concludes the funeral ceremony. This evening will commence the coronation. Thank you.”

The crowd began to disperse. Zale stayed in his seat, staring at the mask of his father. The tears dried up and he called to mind the happy times. He smiled at Lila and said, “Let’s get lunch.”

Lila wiped a tear from his cheek. She smiled back. “Okay, my prince.”

The time between the funeral and the coronation was uneventful, except for when Zale stole secret kisses from Lila. Soon enough, it was time for Zale to receive his crown. The ceremony went smoothly, and then it was time for Zale’s announcement. Eugene stepped back to give the new king room.

With the crown on his head and the blank book in one hand, Zale said, “Thank you all for attending. It is an honor to serve you, people of Hyrule. I promise to rule with a kind heart, just like my father. It is my pleasure to announce my successor. My sister, Princess Zelda. Ella, come here,” he added gently.

While the young girl stepped lightly to Zale’s side, the crowd murmured in hushed though shocked tones.

“Princess Zelda has been kept a secret for her protection, but now it is time for her to reveal herself,” Zale explained. “Should I die before a new heir is old enough, she will become the new queen.” He nodded to Eugene who came forward again.

Eugene said, “All hail King Zale and Princess Zelda,” and knelt.

“All hail King Zale and Princess Zelda,” the crowd repeated, also kneeling.

After a silent moment, everyone stood up again.

Eugene said, “Thus concludes the coronation ceremony. Everyone, please enjoy yourselves. This is a joyous day!”

The crowd cheered and slowly left the throne room. Many people threw looks at the royal party as they waited their turns to exit. Zale wasted no time in leaving the room as well, his hand clasped tightly to Lila’s. Though it was dinner time, Zale led her to a private room. His heart fluttered wildly.

Lila giggled as he closed the door. “You’ll be missed at dinner.”

“Who cares about dinner,” Zale said. He was flushed with excitement. “There’s something important I have to ask you.” His eyes shone brightly.

Lila caught his mood and she had to gasp. “What is it?”

Zale knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. He took a deep breath. “Will you be my queen?”

Lila’s open mouth held a ghost of a smile.

Zale went on, “You’re the most amazing, beautiful, courageous woman! Will you be my wife, for me to love you forever? I know, being a queen may seem like a lot of work, but I’ll be by your side–”

“Yes,” Lila said, breathless.

“Yes?” Zale asked, rising to hug her. “Yes?”

Tears were in Lila’s eyes as she smiled and nodded. “Yes!”

Zale held her up and twirled her around.

“Yes! You said yes!”

“Yes, I did,” Lila giggled. “I will be your wife!”

Zale kissed her passionately, again and again. They leaned against the wall, kissing with all of their might.

Then Lila’s stomach grumbled loud enough for both of them to hear.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Zale said. “I’ve kept you from dinner. Shall we tell everyone the good news?”

Lila’s eyes glimmered like the stars. “Yes, why wait?”

Zale laughed, “Good point!”

They walked hand in hand to the dining room, which was unusually full. Link and Zelda weren’t there, but the generals and their families were. Everyone was waiting for the king to arrive.

Zale couldn’t help himself. As he entered the room, he held up Lila’s hand and declared, “We’re going to be married!”

The room erupted into applause. Congratulations were thrown around like confetti. The happy couple took their usual seats at the head of the table. Then dinner was served.

[wendel-luxes-worldly-wondering]

They Spoke For A Few Minutes

The fellow in the line in front of old man Bobby Joe Grayson was wearing an orange robe. At least thats what he thought.

“Hey you!” Bobby Jo says to the dark skinned man. “Why you wearing a robe like that out in public.”

The man in the orange robe is purchasing some fruits, they sat in a little basket on his arm. Apples. Grapes. Coconuts. Oranges. Pomegranates. He turns around and looks at the fellow. Without hesitation he says, “I am a monk.”

“A monk?” Says the older. “Like one of them there. Om, boodi-hoodi… people.”

“Well—yes, we do use the word ‘aum’ often. But it is a little different than that.”

“I thought you wasn’t s’posed to be eating and stuff… why you got them there fruits there?”

The monk looks at him, “Well we do eat, but, you see—I am dressed in my traditional attire for ceremonies.” He points to the fruits. “And the fruits are for a funeral.”

The old man looks at him with a stone cold stare, “Oh…”

“The fruits all represent parts of life�� see,” he pulls out an apple. “Apples represent knowledge and immortality.”

“Grapes define a community. A gathering. A sense of unity for the family and friends of the loved one.”

“Coconuts represent purity, nourishment and rebirth.” He holds the large coconut and simply shakes it.

“Orange, or really most citrus—represents wealth. Prosperity in the afterlife and in the next."

He then grabs a pomegranate. “In our religion, we also believe people must escape a cycle of death and rebirth. And if you break this open, you see seeds. The seeds could also represent fertility.”

“So you’re telling me—you use all these fruits and just waste them at a funeral?”

“Well I wouldn’t say that we waste them. Our culture has a lot of imagery and has a meaning for most anything. Our folks grew up connected with the land, and have had a lot to say about it all.

That is why we have so many connections to things—statues, flowers, fruits. Nature itself.” The monk has begun to put his fruits on the belt.

“Welcome to E-Z Mart…” says the less than amused cashier.

Bobby Joe stares at the man and says… “That sounds like a load of bologna.”

“I am sorry you think that…” says the monk.

“I am sorry you think that too…” says Bobby Joe. “Do you know—if you died tonight—would you go to heaven or hell?”

“Well, sir—I do not believe in a heaven or hell. I believe in liberation—nirvana.”

“Do you know if you died tonight? If you would go to heaven or hell?”

“Again—sir—”

“Don’t sir me… show some respect.”

The monk looks at him with a bit of a questioning tone, but then steps back and reassesses.

“That will be $24.87.” Says the Cashier

“Yes—just give me one second.” Says the monk.

“Yeah... There is no one behind me, you can turn the light off for a second.”

The person behind the register sighs and clicks the light off. They start playing on their phone.

The monks speaks. “I do not believe in heaven. I believe that ‘God’, as you would say, has called me to fulfill my duties on earth, as a monk. To help others learn and connect with their God in a deeper more profound way.”

“I would ask you to bow your head. You don’t have to say it out loud.” Old man Bobby Joe says. “Pray—‘Dear God… I believe that your only son was sent to die on the cross to forgive me of my sins.”

“I don’t feel comfortable doing that, sir.”

“Just do it!”

The monk bows his head, and pretends to mumble the words the old man says.

“I would ask you Jesus Christ… to come into my heart and save me. Cleanse and make me whole again. In your holy name, amen. There you go, brother. You’re saved. You are in God’s arms now.”

The monk smiles and pays the person at the register. “You have a blessed and fortunate day.” He says to the person at the counter and turns around, saying it again to Bobby Joe.

(The fruit symbolism is inspired by various Eastern spiritual traditions but is not a precise representation of any specific belief system.)

“You too, brother in christ!” Says Bobby Joe.

The monk just nods and walks out the store.

[unknownprivacyseeker]

posted this to reddit. saving so i remember how this fuckin dick treats me

Context:

Our first interaction was him being kind of nice and when I tried to relate, he would get annoyed and explain that I couldn't possibly understand what he was talking about. So I was like… "okay, I'm sorry." Even though I did but it wasn't worth fighting over while at a service, you know. And I'd been told he tends to have a lot of hot air and to take it in stride. So I did. He made a snide comment about it "everything about you makes sense" when he made a joke that went over my head and I explained that I'm autistic and sometimes miss jokes.

Second interaction, at a church service, he failed to show up until 10 minutes after the funeral started (after me having been at this church for almost four hours). Our manager was there and was furious. Then when he arrived, proceeded to act like I'd done everything wrong and yelled at me for ruining the family's service. Our manager stepped in and confirmed anything I'd done had been at his request. Later that evening, he said my family was "white trash" when I was talking to one of the family members and telling them that I related to their story (my six year old nephew is being raised by my parents and we all consider him their son/my brother; which was their situation) and that their loved one sounded like a wonderful person. I screamed and cried to my mom about it after work but grit my teeth while there.

Third interaction, I was trying to do my job (and wondering where my other coworker was) and I went up to where our music/video production is and found him talking her ear off while I had a question from the family that needed answering. I tried to cut in to ask when there was a lull but it never lasted long enough for him to stop; so I waited to politely cut in and when he finally noticed me, snapped "don't you have a job to be doing?" When I asked the question the family, he snapped that "I'll handle the family's questions" and basically pushed past me. I went back downstairs, continued doing what I did and when no one came to say the family had, went back upstairs, saw them talking again and no family. So I went and turned off the lights because the parking lot was empty; when they finally came down, 25 minutes later, he got angry at me for closing up without his permission (despite that being something we do every service). The family had been long gone by then. And then he proceeded to tell my other coworker (who was new) to keep me in line and peeled out of the parking lot while we were still closing up.

This third incident I told a coworker and was told he has a tendency to treat us as the help and it needed to be reported officially; especially because he's apparently been unable to keep office staff because of how he treats them. It'd been a week since and I didn't feel I could and wanted to just keep the peace.

Yesterday, at a service, he proceeded to: insult my appearance (calling my dark, clean and pressed button-down that I wear around my manager, etc "unacceptable attire for a funeral" and saying i looked like i "work in food service" as well as saying my hair "makes you look like a lesbian."), make derisive comments about my education while bragging about how smart he is, called me lazy/stupid because of a single mistake that no one but he had issue with, proceeded to disappear the entire visitation and funeral. And generally talked down to me the entire 9.5 hour shift. My only sanity saver was that the family I'd worked with the night previous, without a director, told my manager how appreciative they were that I had been with them because I was great.

I don't know what it is I could've done to warrant it; I'm from a real rural/traditional area and I sound it but I keep my head down and only complain to people I consider friends. And beyond that, I've no clue what to do. I've been told formal complaints don't stick because he claims its racial discrimination; I usually manage to avoid him as a director because I work with like 15, including him, but it happens every time I have to work with him.

Do I just ignore him? Do I try the formal complaint despite the possible repercussions? How do you deal with hostile environments in business? And how should I diffuse situations likes these? Cuz if they're going to escalate, I don't know if I'll be able to keep cool.

tl;dr: someone I work with is incredibly hostile to me. I'm literally not sure what I did and don't know what to do in this situation. Need help navigating it/diffusing it.

[worldsneverfilled]

The Wanderers (wip)

Excerpts from the 12th Wanderer’s journal:

Their Domain/Sphere of Influence:

It started in Toril, later included the Feywild, and is said there are other planes they’ve wandered though no one has ever specified which ones.

As the Wanderer it is their job to travel the planes and help those in need, from a farmer with a missing chicken to working alongside scouts in a war.*

How the Role is Passed Down:

Training the next Wanderer doesn’t start until they’re at least 200, and lasts a minimum of 100 years. They wait until they’re 200 to allow them to find themselves and mature or start a family if they want. Deciding who will be the next Wanderer happens in the beginning of adulthood. The current Wanderer chooses the best candidate based on predictions for what the future holds. For example, if the Wanderer thinks there might be war, they would choose someone they think would be the most capable in battle and/or diplomacy. The candidate does not have to accept. If they reject the offer, then it will go to the most capable rather than who the Wanderer thinks will be needed.

There’s a private acceptance ceremony, an informal announcement to the current Wanderer and a vow, and then the candidate becomes the “Wanderer’s Companion.” The Companion is mentioned periodically throughout their history but isn’t always present with the Wanderer in the stories.

During this training, they're taught to fight with blade and words alike, how to survive, and their family's history—it's supposed to be an oral tradition.**

Each Wanderer holds the title about 200 or so years before they’ve finally trained the next and passed on the title.

When the Companion becomes the Wanderer, there’s a more formal ceremony/ritual between them and the current Wanderer, and a previous Wanderer if they’re still alive. It’s unknown what happens during this ceremony.***

 Attire:

The Wanderer usually wears mostly black and keeps their head and face hidden; the 6th was known to wear vibrant colors, however.**** The mask they wear is plane and unremarkable, and it once belonged to the first Wanderer, Ysiad, from her time as the Headmistress for the Caretakers. The Wanderer uses black paint around their eyes to hide their skin where the mask’s eye holes don’t covered it entirely. The cloak belonged to the Traveler when he was alive; Ysiad took it from him to wear herself as a memento before he was entombed.

The Companion has to wear all black, though it can have accents of other colors, and they wear a scarf that covers the lower half of their face. They wear a hooded cloak to hide the rest of their head and face, but what skin isn’t hidden by the scarf is painted black now that they’re Fey Eladrin with brightly colored skin.

Death:

When a Wanderer dies, they’re buried in the family’s private cemetery rather than a public one. This cemetery is a bit out of the way and the previous Wanderer has two funerals. One for family and friends or neighbors, and one for the current/previous Wanderer and the Companion, which is done late into the night where they can honor the deceased Wanderer privately.

Wanderers are buried in their armor and with their weapons. Neither are to be passed down to the next Wanderer, however, it has happened twice. Once with their weapons and once with the 11th’s armor, the latter’s ceremony delayed.

They are not buried with the mask or cloak; those are passed to the next Wanderer when they take on the title.

*Mother loved to tell the story about the farmer who was panicking over someone named “Lucy” that had gone missing. She thought Lucy was the man’s partner or child, but once she asked him to describe them, he described his prized hen. She hadn’t meant to laugh at the time, but she did. She did help him find his chicken though, who had somehow taken up residence in a cabinet in his kitchen. Despite her protests at payment, he gave her half a dozen eggs. Those were damn good eggs too...

 **I don’t know what happens during this process because mother died before she finished my training and could do the ceremony. If I get to train the next Wanderer if I continue this tradition, then I will either make something up or skip the ritual entirely.

***If there are stories mother didn't tell me, then they're lost forever. This is the downside to oral history; our legacy dies with us if we've no one to pass it on to or if we have run out of time.

****Since I didn’t have that ceremony, do I technically have to continue wearing all black? Because I don’t wear all black now...

[fulltimecatwitch]

now that i finished watching Merlin here are some random little details and scenes i enjoyed:

•the fact that they didn’t take an specific religious approach with Arthur, sure he condemned sorcery but he also celebrated Beltane and other pagan holidays and this goes well with the fact it is unclear if the real king Arthur was christian or pagan

• although not historically accurate, i really liked the costumes for all the characters, the way they all had a clear color palette and for some how their style also evolved with their story (ex. Morgana), also may i just say the attire for the knights of Camelot was *chef’s kiss*

• as a huge language nerd the incorporation of old english and greek for spells and the dragon language respectively was so cool !! (although that does make me wonder what is everyone speaking, like obviously modern english for tv audience but historically speaking they would also be speaking old english right ?

• the way they incorporated not just arthurian myths like the Knights or Nimueh but also beasts and creatures from other stories or medieval bestiaries

• the funeral rites which seem to be inspired by Norse tradition but again a fitting choice given that there is a variety of religions in the series

*will add more as they keep coming to my mind*

• Merlin wearing Gaius’ robes and his characteristic boots for the Emrys persona and yet no one noticing these important details

• the mention of the kingdom of Mercia from Gwaine ( which btw was one of the few kingdoms where kings remained pagan until the 7th century or so)

• that scene where Arthur asks Merlin how did he know they were in a sacred spot in the forest ( i believe this is when they are on their way to find the Disir) and he begins to describe how everything feels so alive like yeah that is magik baby

*feel free to add yours*

[adridoesstuff]

My favorite details in the original costume design for Elisabeth das Musical (as a student of costume design/scenography)

Elisabeth wearing a trachten (traditional German clothing) at the beginning of the show. It emphasizes her youthfulness, playfulness and origin as a Bavarian princess, which only emphasizes her transition into being the Emperess, when she starts wearing proper fashionable dresses

The vines on everyone except for Lucheni and Der Tod. The vines symbolize that all the characters in the show are long dead ghosts, with the vines harkening back to funeral wreaths. Lucheni doesn't have a vine, since he is the one telling the story/controlling the ghosts to show the story and Der Tod is just his non-human omnipresent eternal self

Sophie in a riding military style bodice while at court. It shows her rigidity, starkness and decisiveness as "the only man at court". Also, the riding jacket foreshadows the visuals for Wir oder sie in Act 2!

Der Tod's jacket/tailcoat. The entirety of Der Tod is iconic but I love both iterations of the coat. I love how the original played with the androgyny concept with the jacket being widened from the waist down in a skirt-like style. And when they turned it into a tailcoat in the revival, I think they played more with the concept of Der Tod being a timeless being, since the cut they chose for it is very regency/empire style, but it's also very sharp and modern in the materials

Der Tod wearing gloves! I think that all of us can agree that gloves are super hot, but it also makes you wonder if perhaps Der Tod's touch is somehow harmful or unnaturaly cold without them and he wears them for Elisabeth specifically (I'm saying this because I'm fairly certain that in 2005, Der Tod only wears those gloves around Elisabeth. When he later interacts with Rudolf during Shatten and later Myerling, he doesn't wear them, showing that he doesn't care about Rudolf as much, since Rudolf's just a stepping stone towards Elisabeth for him)

Elisabeth's Bad Ischl dress being dark blue. She wears the dress directly after meeting Der Tod for the first time and she's dressed in his colors to show the beginning of her infatuation with him

Same with her wedding ball dress, which has fringe on it in a very similar style to Der Tod's white costume from the prologue. So, us viewers, subconciously know that even though she's now married to Franz, Elisabeth still feels a pull to Der Tod. And staying on the wedding dress, I love that they gave her long sleeves, so as to make her appear more childlike and innocent-looking in the crowd of noble ladies with short sleeves, who just a scene before badmouthed her for being exactly that: a naive girl

Max still wearing his trachten/hunting clothes even during the wedding ball. Just shows how resiliently he holds onto his personal freedom, even when faced with a crowd of guests dressed in proper formal attire

Sophie wearing black to the wedding, since she is a bitchy mother-in-law now and what's more fitting to show your displeasure over your son's marriage than wearing funeral black?

Elisabeth wearing pants during Die Maladie. She's supposed to be working out when she collapses and it's much more logical for her to be in pants in that scene than in whatever that lilac robe in the 2nd revival is. There are actually preserved workout trousers the real Elisabeth wore and I love that Reinhard Heinrich incorporated them into the show

Adult Rudolf wearing a Hungarian hussar-style jacket. This clearly shows his different, more liberal views and clearly separates him from Franz, his father, who is in a more ridgid Austrian military uniform. Also, Franz does have Hungarian style costumes, but he only wears those while in Hungary as a way to gain favor with the locals while Rudolf wears his Hungarian jacket even when he's in Vienna. (The revival managed to screw this up with putting Rudolf in an almost identical uniform to Franz)

The Myerling dresses! The movement and tailoring these have is impeccable. Also, the dresses mirror Elisabeth's dress from Debrezin/Act 1 Shatten with the black/teal color palette and the stripes, since both these scenes are about a painful loss of one of Elisabeth's children because of her unadvised decisions, with which she tried to keep her freedom

Der Tod's entire color palette and costume changing after his refusal of Elisabeth. The way he goes from otherworldly cold and almost inhuman while dressed in that sharp dark colored tailcoat to his character being almost human in the last two scenes and dressed in white in a flowy shirt. *chef's kiss*

[96thdayofrage]

The white police officer who fatally shot Patrick Lyoya in the head during a traffic stop in Grand Rapids, Michigan, was finally identified on Monday, three weeks after the horrific incident was captured on video.

Local police said Officer Christopher Schurr, who has been with the department since 2015, was placed on administrative leave in connection with the April 4 shooting death of Lyoya, a 26-year-old Black man.

Authorities said Lyoya fled a traffic stop just prior to the shooting, and that he appeared to grab the cop’s taser during an ensuing struggle. There is no evidence that Lyoya was armed before the fatal incident, and body-camera and other footage showed a stop that began with a dispute over vehicle registration end with a man being shot, apparently from behind and with his face down.

Kent County prosecutors have said they will wait for the conclusion of a state police investigation to decide on any possible charges against Schurr, who could not immediately be reached for comment. Protests have been a fixture in the city in recent days, fueled by anger over a legacy of police violence and misconduct toward local communities of color.

“An intentional three-week delay in releasing the name of the involved officer, which they clearly knew at the moment of the shooting, is offensive and the exact opposite of being ‘transparent,’” Ven Johnson, an attorney representing the Lyoya family, said in a statement. “Once again, we see the Grand Rapids Police Department taking care of its own at the expense of the family’s mental health and well-being.”

Chief Eric Winstrom had said in a Monday statement that the decision to name the officer who killed Lyoya was in “the interest of transparency, to reduce on-going speculation, and to avoid any further confusion” in the case that has garnered national attention.

While authorities have not released further details about Schurr, local media reports showed someone by that name graduating from Sienna Heights University in 2014 with a degree in criminal justice.

In a 2014 interview with MLive, Chris Schurr said he was engaged to his high-school sweetheart, and that the couple had plans to get married in Kenya after visiting on a trip building houses through their church.

“We were asked to go again this year, but we couldn’t afford a wedding and the trip, so we decided to combine them,” Schurr told the outlet, noting that the couple had planned to wear traditional Kenyan wedding attire.

The official release of Schurr’s name comes days after Lyoya’s funeral, where Rev. Al Sharpton demanded justice for the fatal shooting of Lyoya, an immigrant from the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

“Every time a young Black man or woman is arrested in this town, you put their name all over the news. Every time we’re suspected of something, you put our name out there,” Sharpton said to a packed crowed at the Renaissance Church of God in Christ on Friday, adding,“How dare you hold the name of a man that killed this man. We want his name!”

Sharpton also called for a federal investigation into the killing.

Forensic pathologist Dr. Werner Spitz, who was retained by Lyoya’s family, revealed last week he believed Schurr’s gun was pressed to the back of Lyoya’s head when he was shot—and that he sustained no other wounds in the incident.

Authorities have not released an official autopsy, though they indicated in Monday’s statement that documents would be released to the public shortly.

[4me4you]

4me4you Features - “OVERSIZED SUIT”.

4me4you features the artist Liam Walker-  “OVERSIZED SUIT”.

The exhibition titled "Oversized Suit" draws its name from one of the showcased paintings, "Oversized Funeral Suit." Like all of Walker's paintings, "Oversized Funeral Suit" is, to some extent, autobiographical. 

This piece captures his memory of returning to Bradford, his hometown, for a funeral. Due to travel constraints, he lacked appropriate attire and ended up wearing an ill-fitting, oversized suit. 

This experience was particularly distressing for him, as he was preoccupied with his appearance at a solemn event, a concern seemingly unnoticed by others. 

This blend of awareness and absurdity permeates the entire exhibition. For Walker, expressing his anxieties and reflections through his art is an intrinsic act, making his works and himself inseparable.

Walker excels in capturing the peculiarities of everyday life. 

He draws inspiration predominantly from his memories, which are inherently chaotic and distorted, with multiple dimensions often collapsing into a single moment. 

Consequently, many of his works are set in environments that feel familiar yet subtly suggest an alternate, dystopian reality. 

Some scenes linger in his mind for years before they materialise on canvas. For instance, the idea for "My Bully" emerged nine years ago but only recently found its way onto the surface. 

His paintings consistently evoke a sense of surrealism—not in the traditional art historical sense but through a lens of mundane strangeness. Walker's art conveys a shared sense of discontentment that resonates universally. He describes his own work as melancholic, even as he experiments with lighter, pastel colours in the post-pandemic era.

SEE MORE:

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/liamwalkerart/