#huntington palette

[hey-color-palettes]

Could I get a palette for the name "Huntington"? Thanks in advance!!! ^^

★ #80a5a8 ★ #e3dec8 ★ #a3c1bd ★ #a18d6c ★ #626774 ★

[annemarieyeretzian]

Things I was grateful for in May 2024: Marathoning the original Star Wars trilogy, Rogue One: A Star Wars story, ColourPop’s Star Wars eyeshadow palette, The Book of Boba Fett soundtracks, a funny bumper sticker, Tony’s Chocolonely, Sprinkles’ lemon meringue cupcake, Artelice Pâtisserie, a trip to The Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens, LUSH Tofu shampoo, Violet Cream conditioner, Goddess bath bomb, Cucumber eye pads, and Herbalism cleanser, Dorian Storm’s (and Robbie Daymond’s!) return to Critical Role, and movie nights with my friend Robby.

[featheredstudies]

2023.01.12 // 15:08  more academic planning! i do love california’s winter palettes

pic: bolsa chica ecological reserve, huntington beach, calif.

[clothinglowpricemerch]

Road Tripping through California's Coastal Paradise: A Symphony of Beaches, Surf, and Sunsets

California's coastline is a haven for beach lovers, surfers, and nature enthusiasts alike. From the iconic Golden Gate Bridge to the laid-back vibes of Santa Monica, this coastal journey offers endless opportunities for exploration. Cruise along the Pacific Coast Highway, stopping at charming towns, sun-kissed beaches, and world-class surf spots.

Introduction

Welcome to the sun-soaked shores of California, where the Pacific Ocean kisses the coastline in a harmonious dance of waves and where every bend in the road unveils a new chapter of coastal beauty. With a decade of travel experience, I invite you to join me on an unforgettable road trip through California's coastal paradise. From the majestic Golden Gate Bridge to the relaxed ambiance of Santa Monica, this journey is a symphony of beaches, surf, and breathtaking sunsets.

The Pacific Coast Highway: A Ribbon of Scenic Wonders

Setting the Stage: The Golden Gate Bridge

Our coastal adventure begins in San Francisco, home to the iconic Golden Gate Bridge. As the crimson-orange towers rise against the backdrop of the fog-kissed bay, it's a visual overture to the wonders that await on this journey. Take a leisurely stroll along the bridge's pedestrian walkway for panoramic views of the city, Alcatraz Island, and the Pacific Ocean.

Cruising Along Highway 1

Hit the road on the legendary Pacific Coast Highway (Highway 1), a ribbon of asphalt that hugs the rugged coastline. The journey is as much about the drive as it is about the destinations. With the Pacific Ocean to your west and cliffs adorned with wildflowers to your east, the scenery is a constant companion.

Charming Towns and Coastal Retreats

Half Moon Bay: Coastal Tranquility

Our first pitstop is Half Moon Bay, a coastal town known for its laid-back atmosphere and pristine beaches. Explore the historic Main Street, lined with boutique shops and charming cafes. For nature enthusiasts, a visit to the Fitzgerald Marine Reserve unveils tide pools teeming with marine life.

Santa Cruz: Surfing Capital

Continue south to Santa Cruz, the quintessential surf town. Feel the salty breeze as you stroll along the Santa Cruz Wharf or test your skills at the iconic Steamer Lane surf spot. The Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk adds a nostalgic touch with its vintage rides and seaside attractions.

Carmel-by-the-Sea: Quaint Elegance

As the road winds through cypress-lined cliffs, you'll arrive at Carmel-by-the-Sea. This picturesque town exudes charm with its fairytale cottages, art galleries, and white-sand beaches. Take a scenic walk along 17-Mile Drive for postcard-perfect views of the rugged coastline and the famous Lone Cypress.

Big Sur: Majestic Landscapes

Big Sur, a crown jewel of California's coast, beckons with its dramatic cliffs, redwood forests, and artistic retreats. McWay Falls, a waterfall cascading onto a pristine beach, is a must-see. Breathe in the fresh air as you navigate the winding roads, and be prepared for jaw-dropping vistas at every turn.

Sun-Kissed Beaches and World-Class Surf

Pfeiffer Beach: A Hidden Gem

Tucked away in Big Sur is Pfeiffer Beach, a hidden gem known for its purple-hued sands. Marvel at the unique rock formations, including the famous Keyhole Arch. Sunset is a magical time here, as the fading light paints the rocks and waves in a palette of warm tones.

Malibu: Surfing in Paradise

As you head towards Southern California, Malibu awaits with its glamorous beaches and world-class surf breaks. Zuma Beach is a favorite among surfers and sunbathers alike. Whether you're catching waves or simply soaking up the sun, Malibu embodies the epitome of the California surf culture.

Huntington Beach: Surf City USA

Continue south to Huntington Beach, crowned as Surf City USA. The International Surfing Museum is a tribute to the sport's rich history, while the Huntington Beach Pier provides panoramic views of the coastline. Join locals and visitors alike as they embrace the surfing lifestyle that defines this vibrant beach community.

Nature's Spectacle: Coastal State Parks

Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park

Return to the coastline, and venture into Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, where lush forests meet the sea. The Overlook Trail offers breathtaking views of McWay Falls and the surrounding coastline. It's a sanctuary of tranquility, with the rhythmic sounds of crashing waves and the rustling leaves creating a symphony of nature.

Point Lobos State Natural Reserve

Explore the pristine beauty of Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, often referred to as the "crown jewel" of California's state park system. Hike along coastal trails that lead to hidden coves, and witness seals, sea lions, and a variety of bird species. The reserve is a testament to California's commitment to preserving its natural treasures.

Santa Monica: The Grand Finale

Sunset at the Santa Monica Pier

As our coastal journey reaches its grand finale, Santa Monica welcomes you with open arms. The iconic Santa Monica Pier, with its Ferris wheel and carnival atmosphere, sets the stage for a perfect ending. Join the locals for a sunset stroll along the sandy shores or ride the Ferris wheel for a panoramic view of the coastline bathed in the golden hues of dusk.

Embracing the Laid-Back Vibes

Santa Monica's laid-back vibes make it an ideal spot to unwind after the road trip. Explore the vibrant Third Street Promenade, dotted with shops, restaurants, and street performers. The beachfront bike path invites you to rent a bike and pedal along the ocean, embracing the carefree spirit of Southern California.

Practical Tips for Your Coastal Adventure

Timing Your Trip

The beauty of California's coast is accessible year-round, but certain seasons offer unique experiences. Spring and fall provide pleasant weather and fewer crowds, making it an ideal time for a road trip. Summers can be busy, especially in popular beach towns, while winter brings the possibility of dramatic storm-watching scenes.

Pack Essentials for the Drive

Ensure your road trip is smooth by packing essentials. Sunglasses, sunscreen, and comfortable clothing are a must, as are your camera and binoculars for wildlife watching. Plan your accommodations in advance, especially during peak seasons, to secure the best beachfront stays.

Embrace Spontaneity

While it's essential to plan key stops and accommodations, leave room for spontaneity. Some of the best experiences on this coastal journey may come from impromptu detours to hidden beaches or roadside attractions. Embrace the freedom of the open road.

Conclusion

In conclusion, road tripping through California's coastal paradise is a journey that transcends the ordinary. From the misty cliffs of Big Sur to the sandy shores of Santa Monica, every mile is a brushstroke in a masterpiece of nature. As a seasoned traveler, I can attest that this coastal symphony of beaches, surf, and sunsets is an ode to the soul-stirring beauty of California's coastline. So, buckle up, roll down the windows, and let the salty breeze guide you on an unforgettable road trip along the sunlit shores of the Golden State.

[adservedotstore]

Face Palette in Huntington

Shop for Face Palette in Huntington

[teamyeagerrealestate8544]

Coastal Tranquility: Taita's Influence on Realtors in Huntington Beach, CA

The real estate scene in Huntington Beach reflects Taita's commitment to harmony, offering a unique approach that goes beyond property transactions, embracing the town's spirit of balanced living.

Coastal Elegance in Home Selection:

realtors huntington beach ca in Huntington Beach, guided by Taita's timeless elegance, curate a selection of homes that embody coastal living at its finest. Whether it's beachfront properties with panoramic ocean views or charming residences nestled in coastal neighborhoods, the emphasis is on homes that capture the essence of Huntington Beach's coastal tranquility.

Personalized Property Consultations:

Taking a cue from Taita's commitment to individual well-being, realtors offer personalized property consultations. Recognizing that each client's preferences and lifestyle are unique, these consultations ensure that the properties presented align seamlessly with the client's vision, creating a harmonious connection between the homeowner and their ideal dwelling.

Nature-Inspired Staging and Design:

Taita's influence inspires realtors to incorporate nature-inspired staging and design. From earthy color palettes to furnishings that echo the coastal environment, the aesthetic appeal of homes is elevated to reflect the natural beauty that surrounds Huntington Beach. This approach not only showcases homes effectively but also mirrors Taita's commitment to the integration of nature into daily living.

Community-Centric Approach:

In line with Taita's sense of community, realtors actively engage in a community-centric approach. Beyond property transactions, they participate in local events, support neighborhood initiatives, and foster a sense of unity among residents. This collaborative spirit enhances the overall living experience and reflects Taita's dedication to building strong community bonds.

Sustainable Real Estate Practices:

Embracing Taita's eco-conscious ethos, realtors in Huntington Beach incorporate sustainable real estate practices. Whether it's promoting energy-efficient features in homes, advocating for green building materials, or supporting eco-friendly landscaping, these practices align with Taita's commitment to environmental responsibility.

Cultural Appreciation in Home Listings:

Huntington Beach's diverse cultural tapestry finds expression in real estate listings influenced by Taita. Realtors celebrate cultural diversity by showcasing homes that reflect different architectural styles, catering to the varied tastes of residents. This inclusive approach resonates with both Taita's appreciation for diversity and Huntington Beach's multicultural community.

Tranquil Open House Events:

In the spirit of Taita's tranquility, realtors orchestrate open house events that reflect a tranquil ambiance. Whether held in beachfront properties with the sound of waves in the background or in the heart of coastal neighborhoods, these events create an atmosphere where potential buyers can experience the serenity that defines life in Huntington Beach.

[velvetv0nblack]

Today has been a day of many pretty things

[female-malice]

“There is several times more genetic variety among women than among men.” What drugs are you on?

Reading is my drug of choice.

In a study published today in the journal Nature, scientists said they had found an unexpectedly large genetic variation on the X chromosome among women. The findings were published in conjunction with the first comprehensive decoding of the chromosome, which appeared in the same journal.

Females can differ from each other almost as much as they do from males in the behavior of many genes at the heart of sexual identity, researchers said.

“Literally every one of the females we looked at had a different genetic story,” said Duke University genetics expert Huntington Willard, who co-wrote the study. “It is not just a little bit of variation.”

To avoid any toxic effect from double sets of X genes, female cells randomly choose one copy of the X chromosome and silence it -- or so scientists had believed.

The new analysis found that the second X chromosome was not a silent partner. As many as 25% of its genes are active, serving as blueprints to make necessary proteins.

To investigate this variation, Carrel and Willard isolated cells from 40 women and measured the activity of hundreds of genes to see whether those on the second X chromosome were active or silent.

Although those extra genes were supposed to be turned off, they found that about 15% of them in all female cells were still active, or in the terminology of genetics, “expressed.” In some women, up to an additional 10% of those X-linked genes showed varying patterns of activity.

“This is 200 to 300 genes that are expressed up to twice as much as in a male or some other females,” Willard said. “This is a huge number.”

Researchers were surprised that they found so many unexpected differences in the behavior of the one sex chromosome that men and women share.

Though there is dramatic variation in the activation of genes on the X chromosomes that women inherit, there is none among those in men, the researchers reported.

Researchers have yet to understand the effect of so many different patterns of gene activation among women or determine what controls them, but all the evidence suggests that they are not random.

“What had looked like a simple yes or no has turned into a thousand shades of gray,” said molecular biologist David Page, an expert on sex evolution at the Whitehead Institute for Biomedical Research in Cambridge, Mass.

Illuminating this complex palette was the work of an international team of 250 scientists led by geneticist Mark Ross at the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute in Hinxton, England. The team produced the first complete sequence of the X chromosome about two years after the decoding of the male Y chromosome.

The international team identified 1,098 functional genes along the X chromosome, more than 14 times as many as scientists had located on the tiny Y chromosome.

Males:

X–1098 genes with no variation in activation

Y–78 genes 😂

Females:

X1–1098 genes with dramatic variation in activation

X2–200-300 genes with dramatic variation in activation

Females are genetically superior to males in every way.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 28) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±8670 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 28: The aftermath of the altercation with Cain is catching up on Dean, but the injured wrangler refuses to take a beat. Thankfully, his has his family to lean on, even if he isn’t entirely ready to listen to them yet. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of  blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death,   grief. Music: Desperado by the Eagles (opening scene).Follow ‘Ride With Me Playlist’ by Kate Huntington on Spotify! Author’s note: Beta’d by my mom (yes, you read that right. My mom reads my stuff and is on Tumblr) and @winchest09​ and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​ and @rebel4fandom​, who has offered me her knowledge about reining and rodeo. The wonderful gif is by @frozen-delight​.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Dean isn’t sure what’s worse; the night terrors he just woke up from, or the splitting headache that welcomed him that followed after. He remains on his left side for a few more minutes, waiting for his heart rate to lower again while his warm bed offers him only little comfort. For a moment he sighs and closes his eyes while burying his head deeper into the pillow, wishing he could just skip today, but that’s not how life works. Even though he hasn’t moved yet, he has a hunch that it’s going to be either painful or difficult. Probably both.

     When the wrangler sits up and throws the damp sheets from his upper body, his assumption is undeniably confirmed. What he didn’t expect is the lightheadedness that comes with it when he rises from the mattress. Discontent, he groans, rubbing at the unharmed side of his face. It takes a few seconds before his brain catches up, but then the black spots that obscure his vision dissolve and he gets to his feet.

     His body protests, but Dean shuffles towards his bathroom either way, his hand on the doorpost and then on the sink for balance, just to be safe. He flicks on the tube light above the mirror, the harsh brightness making him wince as the throbbing in his head intensifies. He’s had hangovers that were more enjoyable. 

     When his pupils have adjusted somewhat, he blinks and opens his eyes, only half succeeding, since the right one has swollen overnight. Taking in his own reflection, Dean breathes a huff at the man staring back.      “Jo wasn’t lyin’,” he mumbles to himself, remembering how last night she told him he looked like ten miles of bad road.

     After turning on the shower and allowing the small tiled space to warm up, he sheds his t-shirt with some difficulty and discards it in the laundry basket. A palette of black and blue decorates his shoulder, bruised from when he rammed the trailer divider to free his cousin. As he strips down further, he notices that his lower back and hip on which he landed show similar skin discolorations. You’ll feel fine in a couple of days, he reminds himself while he steps under the hot spray. He had far worse, and the vivid flashbacks of his youth that continue to disrupt his sleep have everything to do with it. 

     The warm water doesn’t rid the wrangler of his headache, but it does loosen his muscles somewhat. After freshening up, he randomly picks a dark shirt and an army green button up and matches it with a pair of jeans. He takes his prussian blue jacket and the Stetson hat from the standing coat hanger and exits his room. Reckoning that he’s going to move slower than usual after yesterday’s accident, he prefers to get an early start. The day is going to be a long one as it is, and it’s not like he can sleep anyway. 

     When he turns around, he notices the ibuprofen waiting for him on the kitchen counter, still eight pills left on the strip. He smiles softly, knowing exactly who left it there. Y/N placed them next to the sink for him to find in the morning, since the kitchen is right next to his quarters. She must have figured he wouldn’t be feeling well.

     Shaking his head, he fills a glass and knocks back a set of painkillers, washing them away with water. Deep down he still feels like he deserves the pain, but Y/N will give him hell if he ignores the welcome relief. What Dean doesn’t deserve, though, is her empathy. After all the tears he caused to run down her beautiful face, why does she still care so much? The whole point of the fight going down the way it did, was that she would hate his guts, but apparently, she feels the opposite. She’s too good for this world, that’s one thing he knows.

     The first thing Dean does after opening the large barn doors is cross the alley to the courtyard out back. The Joshua tree, a symbol of hope in the midst of aridity, welcomes him with open arms. He always admired the resilience of the magnificent source of life, how it’s able to survive, even in these fiercely adverse conditions of the Arizona desert. How it can grow and overcome long draughts and cold nights. The cowboy takes in the strong branches, the spirally arranged leaves, the odd shape that makes this specimen all the more beautiful. Many Native Americans believe the Yucca tree holds an enduring spirit, which provides the beings who live on the land strength, endurance and prosperity. He can name a few who are able to use the good fortune.

     When Dean exits the stable on the other side and walks towards the fence, he searches for the traumatized horse that came in yesterday. Cain hasn’t moved from his spot in the far end of the pen, his hay left untouched. When the wrangler comes into view, he pins his ears back, takes a few steps towards him as if he’s about to charge and attack, but then turns on his hind legs and returns to the corner where he stood all night, fear winning over rage. The orange morning glow casts a revealing light on the stallion, his ribs and hip bones sticking out and his coat dull. Lacerations litter his body, blood caked to his manes. It’s clear as day that Cain is in extremely poor condition, but Dean knows Jody isn’t to blame for that and neither is Gabe. They always take excellent care of their animals, but how can you help one who doesn’t let anyone near? The damage was done a long time before Cain arrived at Wayward Mills, Jody’s stables. Dean can only hope that he arrived at Gold Canyon Ranch in time for the horseman to convince him that not all humans are monsters.

     With a sigh, Dean retreats into the barn again, loading fresh roughage into a wheelbarrow and giving each of the horses a good portion. He does his best to ignore the ache that reminds him of the unfortunate event with every movement, as much as the mixture of dizziness and nausea that forces him to pause whenever he picks up a bail from the ground. By the time all the horses are fed, it’s 7 AM. The sound of the animals munching on their hay and pellets has Dean relishing the peacefulness. A glint of a smile reaches his eyes while he removes the rugs that the horses wear during the chilly nights, the contentment of each and every horse soothing and contagious. Even though his injuries barely allow the labor, it’s exactly the therapy he needs for his weary mind. 

     The door to the cafeteria is left ajar, the smell of fresh baked dough indicating that Ellen is already working her miracles in the kitchen, preparing an extensive breakfast for the always famished crew. The middle-aged woman with thick, brown hair - which she refuses to wear up in a ponytail, even during blistering hot summer days - has placed eight buns on a tray and slides the second load of bread into the oven. When her nephew strolls in, she looks up, her wrinkles deepening with concern.

     “G’morning,” she greets sweetly. “Didn’t expect you to be at work already.”      “Yeah, I uh - I wanted to get an early start with Jo outta the game,” he replies as he sits down on the chair he occupies every morning.      “How’re you feeling?” she checks, even though she knows what the answer will be.      Dean shrugs carelessly. “I’m okay.”      “M-hm.” Ellen raises her eyebrow, holding his gaze knowingly while she closes the oven lid. She doesn’t follow up with another question, though. After all, she knows pushing him to talk will only accomplish the opposite.      “Really, it looks worse than it is,” Dean tries to assure her, not wanting to cause her worry.

     His aunt doesn’t respond, even though she doesn’t believe a word of it. Even when he was just a kid, he always kept quiet whenever he was hurt. Working with large animals, who possess so much power and have strong and sometimes unpredictable instincts, is a recipe for a bruise or a cut every now and then, sometimes worse if one isn’t careful. But Dean has always had the tendency to hide any sign of weakness, presumingly because he doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself. That boy has grown into a man now, yet he still prefers to pretend he’s not in pain. He’s also still a terrible liar.

     “Want me to cook you some bacon and eggs, now that you’re here?” she offers, already taking the frying pan out of the lower cupboard. 

     Dean hesitates for a second, because even though he usually loves a good, big breakfast, he isn’t sure if he can muster one. His headache might have toned down a little, thanks to the ibuprofen, yet he feels anything but better. There’s an uneasiness swirling in his stomach, the nausea not so severe that he’s eying the toilet in case he needs to make a break for it, but he doesn’t feel confident enough to add fuel to the fire.      “No, thanks. I’m good,” he declines, acting casual.

     “You’re not taking up the opportunity of my cooking?” Ellen huffs, placing her balled fist on her hip as she turns to face him. “If you really want me to believe that you’re just fine, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”      “I’m not that hungry, is all.” The cowboy pulls his shoulders up to his ears and lets them fall again, but he’s aware how unconvincing it sounds.      “‘Dean Winchester’ and ‘not that hungry’ don’t go together. Do I need to remind you that you’ve been livin’ under my roof for the past fifteen years?” his aunt counters, her hazel eyes penetrating, but the sternness in them dims down before she continues. “Sweety, I know you. And I also know that you rather work than take a minute to heal up, but if you’re not feeling well--”      “Look, I might be a bit tired, yeah. And this,” Dean points at the injured side of his face as he gets up from his seat, “is a little uncomfortable. But I can work just fine. I...”

     He barely gets the words out when the cowboy realizes his mistake; he has risen to his feet faster than his concussed brain can follow. The lightheadedness quadruples, dark spots soon enlarging before his eyes and fogging his vision. His balance falters and he reaches for the back of his chair, able to get a hold on the timber furniture before he goes down.

     “Dean, honey?!”      He can feel his aunt’s hand firmly gripping his biceps, afraid that his legs might give out. Her fear isn’t unfounded, but thankfully the black out is short-lived and he doesn’t hit the ground. Steadying himself, he shakes his head and blinks a couple of times, his sight returning back to normal. As soon as it does, he notices the woman who has nurtured him like a mother would, standing next to him with a whirlwind of concern and frustration in her eyes.

     “Okay, that’s it. You’re going straight to bed,” she decides, still holding him up, even though her nephew has found his footing again.      “What? No, c’mon!” Dean objects. “I got a lil’ dizzy, that’s it! I’m--”      “If you say ‘I’m fine’ one more time, so help me God,” she cuts him off, ushering him out of the cafeteria, her firm grip on his arm not wavering. “You’re not, and it’s about damn time you admit it and pace yourself for once in your life.”      “Ellen, I--”      “Don’t you ‘Ellen’ me, boy! And did I give the impression that this was up for debate?”

     She turns to face him by the door where she finally lets go of him, waiting for an answer, but ready to give him hell if he dares to get smart with her. Standing her ground, she places her hand on her broad hips again, the fire in her eyes telling Dean she’s not going to let this go.

     In the short pause where they stare at each other - both determined - Dean notices the resemblance between Ellen and her daughter, who has often stood toe to toe with him whenever the two disagreed. The young man doesn’t have the guts to talk back to his aunt, though. Especially not now that she has decided to use her mom-voice. And so he swallows hard and keeps his head down, intimidated by the strong-willed woman.      “No, Ma’am,” he returns softly.

      “Good, we’re clear then. You’re not lifting another finger today,” she states. “I don’t want you around the horses and I definitely don’t want you around heavy machinery. So if I see you anywhere near the barn, we’re gonna have a problem. Do you understand?”      “But--”      “Nuh-uh!” She shakes her head and points a warning finger at him. Ellen doesn’t care that he’s turning thirty next year. If he’s acting like an irresponsible and stubborn teenager, she will treat him as such. “What did I just say?”

     Dean sighs and chews on his lip, holding back the string of objections that were ready to fly out of his mouth. He knows better than to contradict her, so he approaches cautiously.      “What about the work? We’re already one down,” he returns respectfully, concerned about his crew if he takes a break too.      “Garth will manage the stable, Benny will take the tourists on the trail, Y/N can train the horses. Your uncle and I will step in where necessary. The ranch will be fine without you, believe it or not. At least for a couple of days,” his aunt assures, hoping it is enough to convince him without making him feel disposable or unimportant. Those are about the last things that he is.

     Dean’s gaze flicks over the concrete floor, bits of straw and hay still littering the surface. The stable could use a sweep after the feeding round, but by now, he has come to understand that Ellen will not allow him to finish the job. He wishes she would let him, because taking a break will inevitably give the dark and troubling thoughts the chance to occupy his mind. It daunts him just thinking of it.

     “What am I supposed to do all day?” he wonders out loud, clearly unsure how to deal with himself.      Ellen’s answer is simple. “Rest up. Sleep.”      Her nephew runs his tongue over his teeth, not seeing the remnants of wheats on the ground anymore, now that his gaze has turned into a thousand yard stare.      “I can’t… I can’t sleep,” he admits, his voice suddenly much more fragile.

     With empathy, the woman before him watches him struggle, the wrinkles that frame her features deepening with concern. The sun is still hanging low in the sky, casting orange rays through the large barn doors, dust particles dancing in the air. In this light, the young man before her looks so much like the little kid she took in on that dreadful autumn evening, and yet the fatigue and the stress ages him beyond his years. 

     “The nightmares are keeping you up again, huh?” she supposes.      Staggered, the cowboy restores eye contact. She knows? Then he connects the dots, his face changing from puzzled to realization.      “Jo told you?” he assumes, his words a mixture of a conclusion and a question.      “I spent two hours in the car with her and even more in the waiting room yesterday. She got chatty after they gave her something for the pain, what can I say?” Ellen explains, a small smile attempting to offer comfort and lighten the mood somewhat. Judging from Dean’s expression, it doesn’t work. “Is it as bad as it was then?” she asks carefully.

     Dean hesitates, but looks at her briefly before he averts his gaze again, nodding in confirmation. He rubs at the scruff on his unharmed cheek, letting out a sigh. Then he opens up, only slightly.      “I really thought I was past this,” he admits, the words escaping with a heaviness that is similar to the burden he’s carrying.      “Well, I really thought that he would never raise his ugly head again, yet here we are.” 

     The painful sound of John’s name doesn’t have to enter the conversation. Dean’s father has left behind enough carnage in his wake already, and vocalizing the four letter word he goes by will do even more. It silences both Ellen and her nephew, though, until she lays out what keeps her up at night.      “Sweety, I’m really worried about you,” she expresses.

     The wrangler glances back at the woman who is such a force to be reckoned with. The anchor of everyone on these lands, the mother hen who is always right, the parent who stepped up when others failed him. Usually she comes off so strong, but now, emotion has her eyes shimmering, and Dean instantly feels guilty for causing her such despair.      “You don’t have to do that,” he reassures, the lie meant to offer her solace.      She scoffs, however. “Apparently I do, because you ain’t taking care of yourself,” she returns, her voice having gained its usual strength again before it softens once more. “Dean, you’re hurt, in more ways than one. You need to acknowledge that. I get that you wanna work and keep busy in order to stop your mind from going places, but you’re running on fumes. The past week has been rough on you, with what happened in Flagstaff, with Y/N…” 

     A chip breaks away from his heart, like it has done every time her name is mentioned. The aggravation sets in then to replace the pain, having him breathe out in annoyance. His cousin really spilled the beans, apparently.      “You know about that too, huh?”      Ellen remains unimpressed with his irritation towards her daughter. “Again; Jo had a lot to say on the drive home,” she repeated.      “I bet she did,” Dean says, somewhat bitterly. “You’re gonna scold me for that one? Wouldn’t be the first.”

     Quietly, she observes how the cowboy draws up his walls again. She has seen this happen before her eyes plenty of times already, his defense regrouping, despite that the armor is cracked. It pains her every single time. Just when he’s about to make progress, he falls back onto that same tactic. She really hoped Y/N could help him, teach him to express his pain, convince him to talk about his trauma. With the love he so clearly carries for that girl, Ellen honestly thought that the stone fortress Dean has built around himself could finally be breached. Sadly, she was wrong. His aunt will not rub salt into the open wound, though, and shakes her head. 

     “No, you broke your own heart enough as it is,” she replies, lamenting for the injured soldier who has chosen to continue his fight with the demons in his head alone, even though there’s an army of love ready for service. “For what it’s worth, honey… I’m sorry for how it ended.”      Dean swallows thickly, nodding at that absently. The same sadness that has plagued him ever said ‘we’re over’ to the girl that he pictured marrying one day, wins terrain.      “Yeah, me too,” he states, his voice raw.

     The silence returns, the only sounds breaking it being the horses, who peacefully rummage around in their stable, purring every now and then. Both Dean and Ellen are a little lost for words. Enough has been said and yet so much remains untold. There’s no point in carrying on the conversation that has come to a sad conclusion. Ellen sticks to her point, though; Dean needs to recharge his batteries. Maybe when he does, he will be able to cope with all the challenges a little better.

     “How about you try ‘n fetch some sleep, and I’ll check in on you a couple of times. Would that help?” she offers, her kind eyes waiting for a response as they read the cowboy.

     Dean shrugs. He’s a grown man; he shouldn’t be needing his mother figure to hold his hand. However, might the night terrors return, the thought of having Ellen there is a comforting one. She did the same when he was younger and still occupied a room in the Singer household. He remembers her sitting by his bedside for nights on end, offering him the shelter he so desperately needed at the time. He might be older, but he needs that same shelter now.      “Worth a try,” he says, shyly.

     Ellen smiles at that, glad he at least allows her to take care of him. She lays a gentle hand on his back, turning to walk next to him towards the bunkhouse. “Alright then, let’s get you settled.”      “You don’t have to convoy me to my bed,” he chuckles.      “If I don’t, you’ll sneak off to the horses just like you did when you were a kid. I learned that lesson a long time ago.” Ellen glances at him sideways, a small grin on her lips.

     Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes. His aunt might be empathizing with him, but giving her attitude will evidently end in her correcting his behavior. Nothing has changed, really. She’s still the same loving mom to him, kind and compassionate, yet strict and teaching discipline when she needs to. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

     The bunkhouse is relatively silent when they climb the porch. Work starts in half an hour, yet most rooms are still quiet. He can hear the shower running and guesses it’s Y/N who is getting ready for her day. She’s always up earlier than the rest of the crew, taking her time to do her hair and makeup. He told her once that she doesn’t need to go through all the hassle, that she’s beautiful without, but after what happened she probably stopped believing his words, and started the old routine again. Maybe it’s her mask, Dean realizes. He’s glad he doesn’t run into her or any of the other wranglers, because he’s not very good at wearing his at the moment.

     The cowboy pushes open the door between his private space and the living room, glad to be able to retreat for the day, even though he refuses to say it out loud. Glancing back at his aunt, a thankful smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, without words expressing his appreciation. Ellen stops him for a second then, taking him by the shoulders and turning him to face him, then gently holding his face between her hands. The look she gives him is so loving and fondly, that it temporarily chases away all his inner struggles.      “Take all the time you need. I’ll always be here,” she assures softly.

     Smiling at that, he remains quiet, giving the woman he appreciates so much a nod. He then goes into his room before she sees the sentiment misting up his eyes. God, is he glad she will always be there like she promises him every time he’s desperate to hear those words. 

     While he gets out of his clothes with some difficulty, his muscles straining and body painful, he thinks about the little recollection he has of his mother. Mary died when Dean was only four, and for years he didn’t have a woman in his life, until Ellen. She filled that gaping hole naturally and without hesitation. Honestly, he’s not sure how he would have ended up without her.

     Exhausted, he drops down on his bed, the mattress softening the landing. Fatigue overwhelms him as he pulls the covers up to his chin, turns on his left side and pushing his head into his pillow, the memory foam underneath him comfortingly molding to his form. Within seconds, his long lashes fall shut against his freckled cheeks. He’s out like a light, and for once, the darkness that falls over him is much appreciated.

     The gravel crunches under Y/N’s cowboy boots, the familiar smell of the earth underneath her feet even stronger in the brisk air. She’s wearing a denim jacket to keep out the cold of the night, but she’s sure she will shed it within thirty minutes when the hard work gets her blood pumping. With Jo taking the morning to sleep in, the intern expects the day to be more intense than usual. Her injured arm will not allow the ranch owner’s daughter to do much, but she doubts anyone can keep her out of the stable for long. She’s a horse girl at heart, after all. 

     It’s strange to not have her best friend next to her when the intern walks through the tall wooden doors. The horses inside look up curiously, but only Meadow neighs sweetly, recognizing her owner by her footfalls alone. It instantly brings a smile to Y/N’s face, even though this routine has been going on for years now. The Quarter mare is always pleased to see her human, especially since she carries sugar cubes in her pocket. Y/N likes to think it’s because she missed her, though.

     After feeding her horse the treat, the intern allows her eyes to glide through the stable. The animals inside the barn are calm and spilled hay still litters the ground, indicating that they have been fed already. She does find it peculiar that Dean isn’t anywhere in sight and that the floor hasn’t been swept yet. It’s usually something he does right away, knowing that Garth likes to keep the stables neat. Not giving it too much thought, she allows her fingers to brush over Meadow’s velvet nose after which she enters the cafeteria next door. She’s soon followed by Benny, who was having his first smoke up front, and she can hear Garth muttering to himself about the messy floors as well. 

     The scent of the Arizona desert is replaced by one of fried meat, together with baked bread and coffee. The aroma instantly ignites her hunger, and she takes her usual seat while Ellen turns to face the wranglers, a sizzling frying pan in hand.

     “Mornin’,” she greets the crew kindly. “Hand me your plates. Y’all gonna need a good breakfast today.”      Y/N watches how Ellen fills her dish to the brim with scrambled eggs and bacon, adding two buns as well.      “How much convincing did it take to keep Jo away?” she wonders, a hint of amusement in her eyes.      “Oh, a lot!” the middle-aged brunette returns, chuckling. “God knows how I’m gonna keep that girl out of the saddle for six weeks. I’m set up to fail.”

     The door closes and Y/N’s attention is pulled towards the man who just shut the barrier. She half expects it to be the head wrangler, but instead Bobby is the last one to join the briefing. The long rectangular table that the crew sits at during meals seems even larger all of a sudden; it’s not just Jo who’s missing. It’s a certain cowboy as well.      “Where’s Dean?” she asks, her words laced with worry.

     Ellen holds her gaze for a fraction of a second, but the small smile she’s carrying tells the intern that she picked up on the concern in her voice, even though Y/N hoped it wouldn’t be so obvious.      “Jo isn’t the only one who I convinced to take it easy.” She hands out a plate to Garth and then to Benny. “He wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I sent him back inside.”      “You benched the Chief?” Benny says, impressed, cutlery already in hand even though they haven’t said grace yet.      “Let’s be fair, who’s the real chief around here?” Ellen returns, smacking his hand with a spatula when he’s about to dig in already.      “Certainly not me,” Bobby mumbles under his breath, earning a piercing glare through narrowed eyelids from his wife. 

     During prayer, all Y/N can think about is Dean. He must be really feeling ill if he agreed to sit this one out. It’s so unlike him, because a day hasn’t passed that he hasn’t worked with the horses for at least a couple of hours, even on his Sunday off. She shakes her head, trying to focus on the condensed air that swirls from the warm meal in front of her, and ban the concern for the ranch hand from her mind. Failing miserably, however, she closes her eyes. 

     What if the concussion is worse than he let on in the first place? What if there’s more going on? Maybe he’s overworked, maybe what happened at the horse show pushed him over the edge. His behavior yesterday was out of character. He never allows the secrets and emotions he  keeps buried to surface, yet panic overwhelmed him to a degree that even the tough cowboy couldn’t keep it to himself. Y/N blows out a heavy breath. What if it all became too much?

     Guilt grows, taking up all the space in her stomach to the point that she’s not hungry anymore. She barely registers the other wranglers diving on their meals after saying ‘Amen’ and starts picking at her food when the sounds of metal scratching on porcelain break the silence, hoping her change of demeanor isn’t noticed. 

     A gentle hand comes to lay on her shoulder, somewhat startling Y/N, and she glances over to meet Ellen’s comforting eyes. As she pours fresh coffee into the intern’s mug, she gives her a soft squeeze.      “Don’t worry, he’ll be alright,” she says quietly, so that the others can’t pick up on the little exchange amongst women.      Y/N nods shortly, a glint of a smile on her lips for a short moment of time. The words coming from the wise woman offer only little consolation.

     “Eat up, darlin’,” Bobby encourages from the far end of the table. “You’re gonna need all the fuel you can get if you’re training fifteen horses today.”      Puzzled, she holds the ranch owner’s gaze. “Wait, what?”      “We’ve got two riders down; you’ve just been promoted. Prepare yourself for a long day in the saddle,” he states, the confident gaze coming from under the baseball cap that he always wears showing his faith in her. 

     Thankfully, her boss doesn’t notice her jaw hanging agape, too busy dividing the overload of tasks between Benny and Garth. Hold on a minute. Did Bobby just put me in charge of Jo’s and Dean’s horses?

     She realizes how significant the trust must be in her as a trainer, otherwise he would have never given her such responsibility. The thought alone of riding these talented, young Quarters is both intimidating and humbling, but if there’s anything she can do to take the load of both her best friend and the man who has her heart, it’s to do what she does best. And so Y/N finishes her meal, gets up and takes her cowboy hat by the crown, placing it over her hair. She’s more than ready to face the challenges that this day beholds.

     With a purr, Santana transitions to an easy walk when his rider drops the reins. He has earned the pat on the shoulder that he receives from Y/N, dust and sweat coming off his coat and sticking to her sore fingers. She knows Dean would have repeatedly instructed her not to let the leather slip through her hand as much as she has done over the past hours, would he have been here. The blisters that have formed on the skin do the talking for the head wrangler, though.

     She blows out a breath, taking her hat off for a second and wiping the sweat from her brow before pushing it back on her head. The Arizona heat is relentless even at this time of the year, the Quarter underneath her not the only one who has broken a sweat. Y/N’s shirt is sticking to her back, moist shimmering on her arms. She feels overheated, worn, tired and dirty, yet the sense of fulfillment overrules the inconvenient effects of riding for ten hours. 

     Fifteen horses; that’s how many she rode today. Never before has she had so many different animals under the saddle, not in a year, let alone in a day. She’s used to focusing on Meadow only, since she never had enough time when she was studying to take on more. When she came here, Joplin soon became her second ride and she trained a horse here and there. But fifteen, every one of them unique and challenging in their own way, is a whole new level of intense, and she has loved every minute of it. 

     Getting to know each of Dean’s and Jo’s Quarters turned out to be very exciting and felt like a rubik's cube she had to solve. Although all of them are taught in a very correct manner by their professional riders, working with the stallions, geldings and mares requires adaptability, a certain feel for what is happening underneath. Much like humans, the different characters also ask for different approaches. Some of the younger stallions who haven’t had anyone but the cowboy on their back, seemed a little surprised by the lighter weight they had to carry, testing the boundaries with their new trainer, yet Y/N managed to dismiss their attempts to take the lead and was able to come to an understanding with them. 

     Saving the sweet Santana for last has been a smart choice; she needed an easy ride to round up this crazy day. Satisfied, Y/N rests her wrists on the horn of the saddle while looking out over the land as the bay horse calmly walks in circles. The sun is about to set, the beautiful light that is casted over the Superstition Mountains the same color as the gold that  had been mined there in the nineteenth century. Most men who came looking for the precious metal never found it, some even died in search of wealth. The legend of the Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine is a famous tale around here, one that Benny shared during one of the unforgettable nights on the bunkhouse porch. It’s been said that the immigrant who discovered the source, took the location to the grave, and that no one has ever been able to track down the mine since. The modern cowgirl thinks about those people for a moment, how they dedicated their lives to this quest without success. They never found gold, yet she struck it, right here. 

     There have been times that she thought she wasn’t cut out for this job, that she wasn’t good enough or strong enough to live the life of a horseman like she imagined she would as a little girl. Yet after today, after spending more hours on a horse’s back than with her feet on the ground, she has never felt more like a true equestrian. Her grandfather always said that she was born to ride. She has never believed him more than she does now.

     Feeling alive and energetic, despite the tough workout that will undoubtedly have her muscles ache for days, she guides Santana to the square and halts under the Joshua tree. When the rider lowers herself from the saddle, the sensation she’s experiencing is much like having sealegs, walking with both feet on solid soil seeming so forreign all of a sudden. She smiles at the feeling, taking off the Quarter’s bridle and replacing it with a head collar. 

     Y/N has only just untied the cinch, when Garth appears in the doorway of the high barn.      “Pfew! What a day,” the skinny stable boy huffs, parking his broom against the timber before he steps towards the horse and reaches for the saddle. “Here, lemme get that for ya.”      “Thanks, Garth,” the cowgirl returns, grateful, not sure if her arms would be able to lift the heavy load off Santana's back. “How’s the stable coming?” she wonders.      “Almost done. Bobby is just finishing up feeding. I think dinner’s ready. By the smell of it, Ellen is cookin’ somethin’ good,” he says, sticking his long nose into the air and sniffing, humming contently when the aroma floods his senses.

     The intern chuckles while she picks up the hose and turns the faucet. She has enjoyed working closely with the peculiar fellow today. Without his swift work she would have never been able to train the number of horses she rode. He readied the animals for her and gave them the proper aftercare, saving the trainer valuable time. Whenever she had finished one session, the next Quarter would be waiting for her already. In between the tacking up and tacking off, the multitasker managed to juggle other chores like mucking, cleaning and turning horses out in the pastures. She’s not sure how the stable manager does it, but she does get why the guy looks a bit like a friendly slender man. He must have covered the distance of a marathon today. 

     Hosing down Santana reminds Y/N just how much she needs a shower herself, and after returning the gelding to his box, she rushes to the bunkhouse to freshen up before dinner. Ellen is the sweetest woman she has come across, but she wouldn’t dare to be late for supper and let the food get cold. 

     It’s quiet when she sets foot in the facility where the workers live, except for discontent muttering and grunting coming from the back room. With a frustrated frown on her forehead, Jo steps into the living area, struggling to tie her hair back with one functioning arm and the other cast in a fixed angle.     “Help a girl out, will ya?” she utters, turning so her friend can fix her blonde locks.

     Smirking, Y/N steps in and takes the hairband. “Sounds like you are adjusting just fine to your current situation,” she comments sarcastically.      “Ugh, I’m as flexible as a metal pole,” Jo moans. “Plus, I’m bored out of my mind. Mom won’t let me work, so I cleaned this pig's stall instead.”      Chuckling, Y/N tightens the ponytail. “I was wondering why it smells so good in here.”      “You certainly ain’t the reason. You stink,” the ranch owner’s daughter comments without missing a beat, wrinkling her nose.

     The intern snorts. It seems like her companion has even less of a filter now that she’s on a significant dose of pain medication.      “I’m entitled to stink after riding seven of your horses,” she counters smartly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take a shower.”      “You better,” the blonde cowgirl agrees, a grin reaching her eyes.

     Y/N wastes no time, heading to her room to collect a towel and her toiletry bag before locking herself in the bathroom and peeling off her dirty and damp clothes. The water feels delightful, slightly stinging her skin that is left sensitive by the sun that beat down on her all day. After having washed her hair, she closes the faucet and runs the towel through her hair before drying her body and wrapping the fabric around her frame. Hurried feet carry her back to her chamber, where she picks out a pair of powder blue jeans with faded bleach stains covering the pant legs, matching it a white, loosely fitted, bohemian top. 

     In a way, she only just discovered that what she aspires to be is actually in the cards. She was so used to life being about school, papers, her thesis, business models and graduating cumlaude, that somehow her true passion for riding came in second for a while. The only times when she experienced that sense of bliss, was on Meadow’s back for forty-five minutes a day. Those rides were enough to keep that fire going, the flames a beacon of light, leading the way to her dreams. Where in the past she doubted if she had what it takes to become a professional athlete, today she became sure that she can. On top of a horse is where she’s in her element, where she wants to spend her time, connecting with the animals that are her partners, and working her way towards the top of the sport. The ambition that has reached a new pinnacle is liberating, fueling her confidence. The less conservative outfit only fits that state of mind.

     “Lookin’ great, Sis,” Jo comments appreciatively, when her friend walks out of her room while tying her hair up in a messy bun. “Hope you didn’t dress up for my cousin.”      “Nope, this is for me,” she chirps, but then the message that might be behind her friend's statement dawns on her. “Why, though? Isn’t he joining us for dinner?”      The blonde female wrangler shugs, shaking her head slightly to let her doubt be known. “Don’t think so. Haven’t seen him around yet.”

     The familiar strain of concern that has been taunting Y/N for days instantly wraps around her throat. Dean hasn’t been out of his room at all? That can’t be good, right?      “Mom checked on him at least half a dozen times. He’ll be fine, he just needs to catch up on some Z’s,” Jo assures as she intends to leave the bunkhouse, reading her friend like an open book. “Comin’?”      “One second,” the cowgirl says, not at ease despite her best friend’s words of consolation. 

     Before she can decide that it’s a horrible idea to enter Dean’s private space uninvited, her hand reaches for the handle, pushing it down softly. Hoping not to disturb him, she carefully peeks around the door, allowing the soft rays from the living room to draw rectangular shapes on the wooden floor.

     Where Jo wasn’t able to calm her nerves, the sight before here does exactly that. Dean is laying on his back, his right arm draped over his stomach, the other holding the covers up to his chest, which rises and falls calmly. His head is slightly angled towards her, comfortably cupped by the pillow underneath, the cotton having tousled his short hair. The unique pair of green eyes that she could pick out from a thousand sets of the same color are closed now, his facial muscles relaxed and his plump lips slightly parted. Cute, soft snores interrupt the quiet, the soothing sound making Y/N smile fondly. 

     She tried hating him, but it didn’t take her long for her to understand that she could never carry such anger for the man that will always have a place in her heart. Partly because it’s not in her nature to hold a grudge against someone who she cares about, but she would be fooling herself if she denied there was more to it. The simple reason why she can’t stop loving the cowboy, is because she’s not ready to give up on what they had. Dean might have cut her loose, yet she feels that without the man who she belongs to by her side, she will never be free. 

     Without making a sound, Y/N pulls the timber barrier back towards the door frame, but doesn’t close it. Instead, she leaves it open just a crack, a thin ribbon of hopeful light still reaching into the darkness.

     Dean needs a minute or two to wake up from what feels like a coma. He remains unmoved, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings again. What time is it? Then a better question arises; what day is it? 

     Not wanting to leave his warm and comfortable bed, he turns on his side with a low groan. The movements have his body protest slightly, but the nausea and the headache seem to have subsided, at least in his current position. 

     Faded memories begin to push to the surface. The cowboy barely remembers dropping down on the mattress, unconsciousness taking him out before he could properly get settled. At a certain point during his sleep, a nightmare started creating havoc again. He can’t entirely recall what happened in that dream, but Sam was there. In that strange world inside his mind, Jo was added to the mix too, blood dripping from her broken arm, as Bobby ripped him a new one for not watching his daughter. Somewhere during the waterfall of hurtful words, his uncle’s face morphed into his father’s, but before John threw the first punch, he woke with Ellen on his bedside. She was sweetly stroking his cheek, hushing him until his breathing calmed, tucking him in again as if he was still a little boy. Not that he minded; having his aunt there actually took away the anxiety that chased shivers up and down his spine, and so he allowed her to mother him. They didn’t say anything, no words needed, her kind eyes enough to assure him that things were going to be okay. The soothing motions of her fingers running through his hair must have lulled him to sleep, because he doesn’t have any recollection of her leaving.

     For the first time in days, his heart doesn’t beat out of his ribcage right after waking up. The slow, rhythmical thud in his chest is a welcome change, and he even dares to claim that he feels rested. No wonder, because when he finally opens his eyes, he notices that the room is dark, despite that the curtains are slightly opened. Somewhat disoriented, he realizes it must be after sundown. The door that is left ajar gives a streak of light coming from the ceiling light in the living area just enough space to sneak in. A glance at the clock confirms that it’s evening already, 8.30 PM to be precise. The wrangler carefully sits up and rubs at his face while calculating how long he has been under. He went back to bed around a quarter past seven, so that gives him over thirteen hours of sleep.

     Dean huffs, muttering to himself. “Apparently I needed it.”

     Sounds coming from outside bleed into the silence, Garth’s giggle and Benny’s roaring laughter mixing with Jo’s voice, his cousin telling a story he can’t quite make out. Country music plays softly, caps popping off their bottles, and glass clinking. He guesses the crew has settled down on the front porch, enjoying the cool evening before heading to bed. Feeling ten times better than he did this morning, the wrangler who was absent all day swings his legs over the edge of the bed and rises to his feet, gathering a comfortable sweater, a pair of sweatpants and a bundle of socks. He freshens up quickly and gets dressed, exiting his room to join the fun.

     “Well, look who it is!” Jo quips when her cousin pushes the fly curtain aside and steps onto the wooden deck. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”      “Just to get you up to speed, Chief. It’s the year 2008, George Bush is still president, and the New York Giants won the Super Bowl,” Benny teases his best friend, his baby blue eyes mischievous.      “Yeah yeah yeah…” Dean mutters in response, his lips pulling upward nonetheless. After the hibernation he just woke up from, he was expecting a few jokes to come his way. “Just pass me the tortilla chips, I’m starving.”

     He hesitates slightly before he sits down on the couch, the only available seat next to his former girlfriend. She smiles warmly at him, however, and so he sees no harm in occupying the spot by her side, the kindness that she’s radiating telling him that she’s okay with it.

     “I’ve got somethin’ better. Mom saved you left overs,” Jo announces, climbing out of the large bean bag, only using one arm to push herself up. “Be right back.”      “What did she make?” Dean wonders, speaking loud enough for the blonde cowgirl to hear him as she ambles inside.      Her words are muffled by the bang of the refrigerator door closing. “Pulled pork!”

     Dean’s mouth instantly begins to water. Ellen’s famous dish sounds like a gift from heaven right about now, because he hasn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. The smell that floats onto the deck as Jo heats up his dinner makes his stomach growl, and Y/N sniggers at the rumble. He glances aside to meet her gaze and huffs a laugh, watching her with delight. God, it’s good to hear that joyful sound again. 

     For a short second, the cowboy takes her in, glad to witness a sparkle in her eyes that shines brighter than she stars above. She didn’t bother with makeup tonight, and her hair is tied in a messy bun, locks escaping the elastic band. The loosely fitted white top - which is decorated with embroidery on her shoulders and neckline - suits her well, endorsing her skin. She seems relaxed and content, and in a way, it surprises him. A sense of bittersweet pride settles in his chest. Less than a week ago, he broke her heart, and look at her now. She got back up, squared her shoulders and carried on, just like he hoped she would. It’s a confirmation that letting her go was the right thing to do, no matter how much it hurt him then and still does at this very moment. 

     “What?” she wonders, chuckling, noticing Dean staring.      “Nothin.” He shakes his head, the endearing smile not wavering. “You look good.”

     The compliment surprises both the pronouncer and the receiver, the words hovering between them before either of them reacts. For a second the wrangler is afraid that the unexpected yet sincere comment will make things awkward again, but Y/N proves the latter.

     “Can’t say the same about you,” she mocks playfully, hinting at the injury on the side of his face.      “Gee, thanks,” he scoffs.      They share a laugh as she gently bumps her shoulder into his, careful not to add to the bruising. 

     “How were the horses?” Dean asks, interested.       “Amazing! I had such a blast riding all of them,” she beams, turning to him and excited to share her experiences. “I mean, it was a lot of work and I’m sure I won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning because of the muscle ache, but I learned so much. I can’t believe how sensitive they are to even the smallest cue, they are all so well-trained. You’ve got to teach me how you do that. Santana especially was a dream!”

      Y/N continues to tell about her day, how riding the different horses made her realize that this is what she wants to do for the rest of her life. Not stuck behind a desk between stacks of case files, but in the saddle, like the head wrangler encouraged her to do from day one. The interaction between them is casual, without strain or reluctance. Relief washes over Dean, because despite the painful split, they are here once again. Back to where it all started; enjoying each other’s company and having a good time after a long day, beer on the table, music in the air. 

     Mesmerized, the cowboy listens to her stories, counting his blessings as he does. Y/N is still a part of his life and will be for the duration of her internship. Who knows, maybe they will keep in touch beyond the dreadful day that she will leave the ranch. Their romantic relationship came crashing down by his doing, yet thankfully, they were able to salvage their friendship. That crucial part might have a few dents and is going to need maintenance, but it still works. Looking back at the wreckage, that’s more than Dean could ever ask for.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read chapter 29 here

[danasabar]

INTRO TO: DANA SABAR. [psd credit here]

BASICS

FULL NAME: dana waheeda sabar

NICKNAME(S): n/a

BIRTHDAY: may 11 1966

AGE: thirty one

HOMETOWN: prosper, west virginia, united states of america

BIRTHPLACE: huntington, west virginia, united states of america

RELIGION: agnostic

FAMILY

MOTHER: joyce (nee gunn) sabar

FATHER: fahad sabar

AUNT(S): unknown

UNCLE(S): unknown

SIBLING(S): lila sabar (older sister)

COUSIN(S): unknown

PET(S): sergio (macaw) willie (cockatiel)

APPEARANCE: Dana is 5’5, with brown eyes and curly hair which is mostly black but with some streaks of gray beginning. She’s most noticed for her freckles and also has a mark on her chin. She has three tattoos, two on her left arm and one on her right. These are black stick n’ poke tattoos depicting deceased pet birds. While at home, she may take some time to play around with makeup, particularly to emulate styles of the 1960’s and 70s, but when at work or out socially, would likely just wear a touch of color on her cheeks and some mascara. Dana also has quite good posture.

STYLE: Dana’s style is very much inspired by the 1970s, with elements such as fringe and wide pants making their way into their wardrobe frequently. There’s also a strong reference to western/country associated looks. When at work. Dana dresses for function, maintaining an office look that is professional but still incorporates the warm color palette that catches their eye.   At home, Dana is more likely to wear flowing fabrics and earth tones. Dana’s most cherished accessory is their watch, as it’s their most functional clothing item. They’re a firm believer in wearing things until they are unwearable, including recycling the same Halloween costume every year and only owning one bathing suit.

 FAMILY: Dana is not very close to their family, and does not know much about their extended family. Their mother, Joyce was born in the United States and while empathetic and sensitive, was also inconsistent as a parent. Dana’s father, Fahad was born in Iraq, a humorous and hard working man who could also be distant. Fahad was also Dana’s preferred parent and as such, took his moving away when she was 14 hard. Dana has one sibling, an older sister named Lila. The two often competed as children and as such, neither speaks positively of the other. Lila moved away back to Huntington with Dana’s mother and Dana shares very little contact with either, other than the occasional awkward phone calls on birthdays and Mother’s Days.  

FRIENDS: Dana is not very skilled socially, and as such does not have much of a social circle. Dana would likely list her best friends as her birds, finding them much easier to understand than other people. Despite this, she desperately wants more friends. Often Dana fails to understand how her harsh demeanor and inflexibility can be off putting or seem insulting to others. Those that Dana does know and care for (likely based on judging them through interactions at the DMV), she would protect fiercely. 

LIVING SITUATION: Dana shares a small cabin in Prosper with her birds. Their home is adorned with art inspired by her birds and nature. While it’s modest, sporting one bedroom and one bath, it’s more than enough room for Dana and often is her sanctuary if people have been especially annoying that day. The soundtrack of her birds is another calming element, though if she were to have guests, they may not find the same effect. 

WORK: Dana works at the DMV, processing motor vehicle licensing and register. Chances are, if you have a car in Longhorn County, you’ve met Dana. This type of role is one that Dana thrives is as a bureaucrat with just enough customer service time to assert over. While their personality may leave some customers ready to rip their hair out, Dana is quite sure that their position is secure. Most of Dana’s earnings go towards food, her birds and the occasion night out. 

SCHOOL: Dana was an overall good student, whose grades were above average but who would often argue with occasionally other students, but most often teachers.  In school, Dana was far more interested in winning at debate team or running for a title than in making friends. As a child, Dana competitive nature was often an issue when it came to sharing or incorporating other’s ideas and it isn’t something that changed throughout the rest of their life. Dana often knew that their peers did not like them and while they attributed it to jealousy. Dana’s lack of awareness, and sometimes just disinterest for when their words can hurt others led to them making others feel self conscious. 

ASPIRATIONS: Dana largely does not think of the future unless for practical reasons, such as budgeting for bird feed and the occasion night at the pub. If she were to make a change in her life, Dana would likely want to increase her social circle to more than two birds. Since Dana’s satisfied with her home, and her job, there isn’t really much desire for her to leave Lockhorn County

RIVALRY: Living in Prosper is a luxury to many but not something Dana thinks much of. While they weren’t born in Prosper, Dana’s lived there since she was six and feels it is very much her home. Dana believes most people in both Hazzard and Prosper are terrible and could stand to improve themselves. Dana is a lawful person, who is unopposed to ratting others out to authorities when they break the law, however, they hold a contradictory view when it comes to the Panic games. Dana believes that by having members of the town compete and overcome their fears, it actually makes them much stronger and more capable in the world. Hence, Dana supports the games, and the rivalry, even secretly hoping a resident of Hazzard will win. Their job being located at the Sheriff’s Department makes Dana feel confident she can keep an eye on the law’s watch of the games.

[farfarawaygirl]

Re: your last ask, if Tim's feelings for Lucy started in S1, what's your take on his relationship with Rachel by the end of S2 when he was meeting her father, and then considering moving to NY with her (he even asked Grey how he could enter the NYPD). I remember feeling really blindsided watching those episodes bc we'd had so much chenford before with 2×11, Kojo, Tim passing the sergeant position, etc, and I'm kind of worried the writers will pull the rug out from under our feet again in S4.

I don’t think the network will let them?

Writers and show runners do have to answer for numbers, and the network exec most likely don’t watch the show, but they are definitely informed of what trends on Twitter, what grassroots stuff is happening, and what fans want to see. The same way a writer can’t just up and decide to kill a character, or massively change a direction of a show, they are responsible to answer for choices they make. I do think that the show writers and producer hear what the fans want. Alexi might not be on board, but I doubt he’s micromanaging, and I bet that enough people could overrule him.

But, onto Rachel.

I think Rachel was important for a few reasons, she played the role of distance maker between Tim and Isobel, which is needed in most narrative stories. They like to have proof that the character can move on, or in this case that Lucy isn’t a rebound. Rachel was an emotional palette cleanser if you will.

Tim thought things were ‘easy’ with Rachel, and even though he asked Grey about the NYPD, in no way, shape, or form do I think Tim would have ever made the move. He was already invested in Lucy, and he had turned down the Sergeant’s position. I think that was probably a lazy writing misstep, or there was a cut scene that might have explained it. Tim did want to impress Rachel’s dad, but that was more about Tim wanting to prove that he’s a good guy than specifically desiring Rachel’s dad approval. For me, at least, the push back there was because the dad was trying to call the shots, and Tim was not here for it. I think the Rachel and Tim relationship was an other way to show how good Tim is at relationships. He stayed when Isobel didn’t. He offered to stick around and see what happened with Rachel (Huntington’s diagnosis), rather than run scared. Where else do we this consistency? When he interacts with Lucy post Caleb. When he reluctantly becomes Angela’s best man. Tim is driven by a desire for fairness and justice, and once you’re in, you’re in. It’s hard for him to abandon people, or leave them behind. Hence he was going to meet Rachel for one last dinner and then *boom* breakup and let her move.

I do think that Tim exploring those options, was a final way for the writing team to allow Tim to try to find a life outside policing. What is interesting about that, is that anything with Rachel is clearly clouded by Lucy! Lucy is their connection point. I mean, even as they talk about her moving to New York, she still doesn’t have deodorant at his place? And Lucy’s dog is on the bed beside her? Those are some pretty obvious clues. For me, this cemented that Lucy is the one he is ultimately moving towards.

I will say it was weird how there was no mention of Rachel at all since she left. In my mind her and Tim broke up quietly two days after she got to New York.

[creativeprocesssophielindsay]

CINDY SHERMAN

Cindy Sherman Untitled Film Still #13 (1978)

https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/cindy-sherman-louis-vuitton-fondation

Cindy Sherman Untitled Film Still #21 (1978)

https://drnorth.wordpress.com/2011/05/28/picture-of-the-week-77-cindy-shermans-film-stills/#jp-carousel-7513

Cindy Sherman Untitled #92, "Disasters and Fairy Tales" Series (1985)

https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/1038

Cindy Sherman Untitled #209, "History Portrait" Series (1989)

http://juliettebuck.blogspot.com/2012/04/cindy-sherman.html

Biography of Cindy Sherman

Childhood Cindy Sherman was born January 19, 1954 in Glen Ridge, New Jersey (virtually a suburb of New York City). Shortly after Cindy's birth, the family moved to Huntington, Long Island, where Cindy grew up as the youngest of five children. Although her parents shared a general disinterest in the arts-her father was an engineer and her mother a reading teacher-Sherman chose to study art in college, enrolling at the State University of New York, at Buffalo, in the early 1970s. Early Training

Sherman studied in Buffalo from 1972-76; she began as a painter, but she quickly found herself frustrated by what she considered certain limitations of the medium. The 1970s was an eclectic era for painters working in the aftermath of Minimalism, and feeling as though "there was nothing more to say [through painting]," Sherman shifted her attention to photography. Although initially failing a required photography class, she later elected to repeat the course, which ignited her passion for the subject. During her studies, Sherman met fellow artists Robert Longo and Charles Clough, with whom she co-founded Hallwalls Center for Contemporary Art in 1974 (it continues to function to the present day as a dynamic, multi-arts "hub"). Longo and Sherman dated until 1979. During her studies, Sherman was exposed to Conceptual art and other progressive art movements and media under the widely influential art instructor, Barbara Jo Revelle.

Upon graduation, Sherman moved to New York City to pursue her artistic career. In 1977, with her downtown residential and studio loft as her primary backdrop, Sherman began taking a series of photographs of herself, a project she would eventually refer to as the Untitled Film Stills. In this series, Sherman embodies the character of "Everywoman." Re-fashioning herself repeatedly into the guise of various female archetypes, Sherman played the girly pin-up, the film noir siren, the housewife, the prostitute, and the noble damsel in distress. The black-and-white series occupied her for about three years, so that by 1980 Sherman had virtually exhausted a myriad of seemingly timeless clichés referring to the "feminine."

Mature Period

With the debut of Untitled Film Stills, Sherman secured her position in the New York art world, leading to her first solo show at the non-profit exhibition space, The Kitchen. Shortly after, she was commissioned to create a centrefold image for Artform magazine. Photos of a pink-robe-clad Sherman were ultimately deemed too racy by editor Ingrid Sischy and rejected. There is no knowing whether a subsequent series shot from 1985 to 1989, Disasters and Fairy Tales, was in some sense a response to that act of rejection, but, notably, it is a much darker endeavour than its prettified predecessor. Its gloomy palette and scenes strewn with vomit and mould challenged viewers to find beauty in the ugly and the unqualified grotesque.

Sherman's next series took on the hallowed subject of the art tableau. History Portraits again presented Sherman-as-model, but this time she assumed the air of European art history's most famous "leading ladies." Living in Europe at the time of its creation, Sherman drew inspiration from the West's great museums. That interlude gave way, in 1992, to Sherman's Sex Pictures, a project taken up in response to the censorship of the art of Robert Mapplethorpe and Andres Serrano. In the Sex Pictures, Sherman substituted her own figure for that of a doll. Intending to shock and scandalize the public, the images present close-ups of doll-on-doll sex scenes and prosthetic genitalia. Shortly after she began work on this series, Sherman received a MacArthur Fellowship.

In 1997, Sherman crossed over from still art photography to motion pictures, aided in part by her husband at that time, film director Michel Auder (the two divorced in 1999). She made her directorial debut with the thriller, Office Killer, starring Molly Ringwald and Jeanne Tripplehorn. A year later, Sherman played herself in John Waters's 1998 comedy, Pecker.

Over the last decade, Sherman done clown's make-up in a series of still photography (2003) and, even more recently, she explored carefully staged female "suburban" identities in a solo show at Metro Pictures, NY (2008). In the latter series, Sherman photographed herself in various states of awkward make-up, superimposing stodgy, highly self-conscious portraits over contrived domestic and faux-monumental backdrops. In 2006, Sherman was honoured by a retrospective of her work at the Jeu de Paume Museum, in Paris. Sherman continues to live and work in New York City, where she is dating David Byrne, of the band, "Talking Heads." She celebrated a solo exhibition at MoMA in early 2012.

  The Legacy of Cindy Sherman

The ultimate participant-critic of mass consumer culture, one perpetually partaking of its daily realities while nonetheless challenging its underlying assumptions, Cindy Sherman epitomizes the 1980s technique of "image-scavengering," and "appropriation" by artists seeking to question the so-called truth potential of mass imagery and its seductive hold on our individual and collective psyches. Sherman's depersonalized approach to portrait photography has suggested a new, socially critical capacity for a medium that was once presumed a tool of documentary realism (or aesthetic pleasure). This "readymade" quality of the critically applied photograph, whereby a pre-existing image or convention is appropriated intact by the artist and subtly turned into something more conceptually problematic, if not psychologically disturbing, has come to characterize much work of a new generation defying easy categorization.

In addition, Sherman's work has been specifically cited as opening onto a new, "expanded field" of photography since the late 1990s, in much work characterized by a "fusion of narrative and stasis," such as in the photography of Jeff Wall, Anna Gaskell, Justine Kurland, Jenny Gage, and Sharon Lockhart. Such artists extend Sherman's anti-narrative approach to the medium and its subject matter, in work that frequently suggests unresolved stories and scenarios wrenched from contexts both common and disturbingly mysterious.

[declencurran98]

Who am i as an artist: Essay & Analysis

I have been a printmaker now for over a year and a half, attempting and producing various types of prints, but as time has went on, I have become more confident in Screen-printing and seems to be my go-to so I will work towards that process in greater depth. Screen-printing is the printing process of transferring a design onto a relatively flat surface or textile by using Ink, a Silk/ mesh screen and Squeegee. Screen-printing has been a constantly evolving process that has become a favourite and Widley used because its colours are so vivid on dark fabrics, allows the printmaker to reproduce a design multiple time of various shapes and sizes, creates bold highly detailed prints with a wide range of inks available. I have become more familiar with this process over my HNC with creating very high standard and multicoloured pieces on various textiles with combining and printing digitally created threshold images onto tracing paper and transferring/ exposing them onto silk screens and for me, it’s a very rewarding process if done right. I have chosen to work towards Screen-printing as I am very organised and fluent in how I produce and style my work. The process and style stand out to me as a printer in terms of how freely you can layer and change the piece if you desire to create a depth on the piece or even develop it into a whole new piece which always gives a new perspective. Over time i would like to produce a portfolio that clearly demonstrates and expresses me as a person and an artist. 

Chuck Sperry

Chuck Sperry is an American Printmaker who has been producing rock-based prints in San Francisco for the past decade. He specialises in multi coloured rock posters which catch the eye upon first glance. His use of colour and topic really depicts what he tries to convey through his style and artwork. His work can be compared to classic cultural murals with the sheer amount of detail and appropriation to colour and topic.

"Empathy" (2021)

Chuck Sperry. (2021). “Empathy” Blotter Art Release. [online] Available at: https://chucksperry.net/empathy-blotter-art-release-2/ [Accessed 14 Mar. 2021].

When looking at Sperry’s work, its clear he knows how to use colour appropriately, the way he mixes cold and warm colours to create a fresh perspective is quite an accomplishment. When first viewing his piece “Empathy”, my eyes instantly went to the blue section of the artwork as it feels like the coldest part of the image with the outer colours surrounding the blue feeling more enclosed and darker, it’s like Sperry did this intentionally to capture the viewers eye and make you look further into the print. The more I analyse this image, the more patterns I capture in the females skin and the gaps between the green flowers, it adds more depth to an already immersive print, The direction of the females stature facing towards the viewer with her eyes looking right at you creates this sense of mystery and welcoming which makes you want to know back story on her. The overall image gives off the idea that we should accept natural beauty like the female in the image has, she appears to be naturally faced with no make-up enhancements being present and is surrounded by nature in its truest form with no technology or human created materials shown. Sperry has blended floral decoration with natural human physique to give off the impression that this female is one with nature and the calmness in her facial expression makes you feel the same. The choices of colour used on this piece create a distinct aura of fresh and vibrant which adds to the images overall natural beauty, you find yourself being constantly drawn to another part of the image with how the yellow and orange bleed and blend into the green leaves and blue smaller flowers and when your eyes get used to that colour palette, the pink/magenta floral art grabs your attention making you spend more time analysing and investing in this print. The style Sperry has chosen for this image works as its already an busy image with lots of colour so his choice to keep the style simple but adding a lot of detail without it overtaking the image is an accomplishment. Overall this piece works visually and expressively giving the human eye something new to look at the longer the gaze.

Dogboy

Dogboy, also known as Philip Huntington, is a Camberwell College of Arts graduate who mixes and incorporates Screen prints and digital methods in his work. I came across Dogboy when first researching screen-print artists and his work stood out as it was bright, whimsical and mysterious which gives them their impressiveness. Dogboys work spans from the very obvious to the very abstract, showing that they don’t go into every piece produced with an idea of what they are trying to convey.

"Mutation"

Dogboy Illustration. (n.d.). MUTATION. [online] Available at: https://www.dogboy.co/work/illustration/mutation.

Out of all the prints Dogboy has produced, this one stood out to me due to its cold tonal presence. Even if you don’t have an understanding of what is going on in the image, the colour palette used is enough to draw you in and get you thinking. The image itself gives off a sense of helplessness as it depicts some sort of future, dystopian setting with the patterns along the walls and ceiling almost looking like 20th century depictions of spacecrafts on television, “people” horded together in a hole in the middle of the image desperately trying to escape while there are what appear to be “guards” just standing by, watching them pathetically attempt to escape. What makes this image stand out is how controlled yet unpredicting this image is. The amount of detail in this image makes it feel more real as the colour palette draws your eyes with how the turquoise mixes in with the lighter shade to create depth and vibrance in a cold, desolate image. The way Dogboy has kept the black part of the screen-print in the image imperfect adds to the density and darkness of the image while almost making it feel on purpose. When you aren’t drawn to the figures at the bottom, your eyes get drawn to the amount of different patterns and things going on in the top image, the sharp zig-zags and single line colours make the ares of the image seem si-fi and immersive, yet again another part of the image not lacking in detail and intricacy. It’s not clear what Dogboy is trying to convey or portray in this image, but I think that was his idea while creating this piece, To give the viewer no definition of what’s going on apart from the title of the piece and the image itself, to then let the viewers mind create its own depiction of what’s going on. Pieces like this stick in the mind as you’re brain is trying to create an understanding of what you’re visually seeing.

Rob Corradetti

Rob Corradetti is a Bay Area based artist who specialises in Screenprints, paintings, T-shirts, comics and Psychedelic pieces. His style is quoted as “a blend of head shop and punk rock” which he was inspired by in his coming of age in the early 1990’s. The thing that stands out about Robs work is how bright and fun it looks on first glance but makes you want to see more. He has collaborated with many pop culture bands and brands such as VANS, Buzzfeed and Wiz Khalifa. 

"Death At Home" (2016)

Etsy. (n.d.). Death at Home Screen Print. [online] Available at: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/288520471/death-at-home-screen-print?show_sold_out_detail=1&ref=nla_listing_details [Accessed 14 Mar. 2021].

I had a look through Robs inventory of prints and its clear in all his pieces that he tries to give insight into different perspectives and his piece “Death At Home” is a great example. The images black background sets the overall tone of the image as it makes the environment seem enclosed and small focusing all your attention on the white outlines and patterns. This type of colour palette works for pieces like this, as theres alot of dexterity and There is so much going on in this image but yet still maintaining its overall image which creates this impressive, eye catchiness to the viewer. My interpretation of what is portrayed in this image is we as humans are so obsessed and reliant on technology that we spend most of our times indoors, In front of a television slowly rotting away in the comforts of our own homes till death. This is shown by the skeletal figure sitting close to the television, smoking and drinking, playing a videogame which states “game over” on the television which could be a metaphor for the once human now skeletal figure playing a game of life that they have now lost. Rob has succeeded in trying to portray this with his bold white and black colour palette blending together and the composition of the image giving the viewer an unknown sense of wonder. The image has so much going on in terms of detail and presence with how each white outline of the garb is its own and if you look even longer, you start to see other patterns and things going on in the image like the spiral swirls and eyes staring at the viewer. The image gives off a feeling of unsureness as it doesn’t really explain what’s going on too much, yet another piece of screen-print that makes the viewer create their own interpretation of this image. The pop art style really lifts the image off the ground and catches the eye even with its two-colour palette which is a great choice. Overall the detail, the matter of the image and the way is composed gives “Death At Home” so much revisit value in terms of what the viewer finds in the image and their interpretation. The image upon multiple viewings gives off this aura of Horror and when you delve into the image and what it stands for, it works. 

References:

Chuck Sperry

Info:

Chuck Sperry. (n.d.). About. [online] Available at: https://chucksperry.net/about/.

Image:

Netdna-ssl.com. (2021). [online] Available at: https://3nmir91xseyl7jrgx40dgp41-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/EMPATHY-BLOTTER.jpg [Accessed 14 Mar. 2021].

Dogboy

Info:

Chayasatit, A. (2013). People of Print: 20 Screen Print Artists You Should All Know About. [online] People of Print. Available at: https://www.peopleofprint.com/general/people-of-print-20-screen-printers-you-should-know-about/.

Image:

Dogboy Illustration. (n.d.). MUTATION. [online] Available at: https://www.dogboy.co/work/illustration/mutation.

Rob Corradetti

Info:

tumblr. (n.d.). Tumblr. [online] Available at: https://robcorradetti.com/info.

Image:

Etsy. (n.d.). Death at Home Screen Print. [online] Available at: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/288520471/death-at-home-screen-print?show_sold_out_detail=1&ref=nla_listing_details [Accessed 14 Mar. 2021].

‌

Wordcount: 1537

[imogenstyling]

The Met Gala Best Dressed of the Decade

Just because there won’t be a Met Gala this year doesn't mean we can’t celebrate the occasion with style. Join me as I head into the archives of fashion’s favourite night of the year.

1. Doutzen Kroes in Zac Posen, 2010

The then Victoria’s Secret Angel and her American fairy godfather, in the form of Zac Posen, created Cinderella inspired magic for the Met. The pastel blue hue of the gown, heavily bodied tulle skirt and her Hollywood curls made for a timeless aesthetic. 

American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity.

2. Gisele Bundchen in Alexander McQueen, 2011

The supermodel naturally opted for a McQueen design, one from his Fall 2005 collection. Gisele obtained her natural makeup and blonde beachy waves for the occasion but amped up her aesthetic with the dress’ dramatic tumbling train for the desired effect.

Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty.

3. Rosie Huntington-Whiteley in Burberry, 2012

Rosie opted for a chic chignon hairstyle that showcased her enviable cheekbones. Her dark smoky eyes were representative of Prada’s Fall 2012 beauty look whilst her stripe print replicated a classic Schiaparelli silhouette.

Schiaparelli and Prada: Impossible Conversations.

4. Anne Hathaway in Valentino, 2013 

The actress transformed her pixie cut to platinum blonde for the occasion and opted naturally for a black mesh gown to resemble the punk theme. Add on feathered sleeves and risqué cut-outs and the result is grunge meets couture.

Punk: Chaos To Couture Costume Institute Gala.

5. Kendall Jenner in Topshop, 2014

For her debut to the gala, the model embodied timeless old school glamour. You only need to search the name ‘Charles James’ and see that this champagne creation was utterly inspired by his fine designs.

Charles James: Beyond Fashion.

6. Rosie Huntington-Whiteley in Atelier Versace, 2015

Giving a nod to the Asian infusion of theme, her asymmetric, nude and swirling panelled dress contoured her body perfectly. Her sweeping up-do and deep berry red lip was the perfect addition to the elegant ensemble. 

China: Through the Looking Glass.

7. Bella Hadid in Givenchy, 2016

The theme explored the future of fashion and Bella’s unique gown was certainly an eye-catch of the evening. The strapless design and thigh split tied together red carpet glamour with a futuristic feel thanks to her rings and the dress’ train.

Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology.

8. Gigi Hadid in Tommy Hilfiger, 2017

The asymmetric tulle and satin dress paired with the contrasting fishnet stockings made for the most stand-out and style-infused look of the evening. Marrying together her bespoke look with her glam, her hairstyle reflected the Japanese theme. 

Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Between.

9. Kim Kardashian in Versace, 2018

The term ‘Heavenly bodies’ certainly applied to the shape-wear mogul on the night. Her corset dress carved her curves to perfection. Her 90s inspired glam and cross embellished gown served the desired nostalgic feel. 

Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination.

10. Hailey Bieber in Alexander Wang, 2019

As a vision in candy pink, a Barbie-esque Hailey captured the essence of the evening with a contemporary twist. The exaggerated accessories, logoed G-string and saccharine palette were the epitome of camp.

Camp: Notes on Fashion.

[jennamarshall]

Fuego Eyez 🧨☄️🔥⁣ ⁣ using @colourpopcosmetics Orange You Glad Palette- Mimosa Mami ⁣ ⁣ 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥⁣ ⁣ #colorpop #colorpopcosmetics #colorpopeyeshadow #colorpoporangeyouglad #makeupoftheday #motd #makeupbyme #makeupblog #beautybloggers (at Huntington Beach, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9Ze6ekl_KW/?igshid=1f37n7zqlupr5

[art-now-usa]

Wetlands, Andrea Patrie

Plein Air- California Landscape- Contemporary Landscape- Newport Beach- Laguna Beach- Huntington Beach - Ocean Scene- Beach Scene- Direct Observation- Impasto- Palette Knife - Color Blocks - Colorful

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Wetlands/340241/2274932/view