#i want this on my wall i love this image and the posing its so so good

[leclerc-hs]

wait for your love - cl16

pairing: arranged marriage!charles x fem!reader summary: in which you're in a fake marriage OR you and your fake husband might be in love with one another warnings: none?? no smut in this part (SORRY), badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD!, angst, pining???, jealousy, complicated feelings word count: 3.6k author's note: I'm still unsure how i feeeeel about this one but I tried my best!! I think writing about an arranged marriage is a little hard because i didnt want it to be mafia related so this was my take on it. there will be a second part!! i also want to mention that all these separate parts are just events that are little peaks into their marriage. it is not in the span of a week or anything, it takes place over time. they do not go from nothing to being in love in the span of one week. just wanted to make sure you guys were aware of that LOL. ok love u all. sorry if this sucks.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE MARRIAGE WAS merely a façade, designed solely to serve the interests of both of your media images. You weren’t in love—far from it…right?

“Charles! How are you and the beautiful Mrs. doing?” A reporter placed a microphone in his face, an eager grin pulled on his lips as he awaited an answer.

“Elle est tellement merveilleuse, n’est-ce pas?” She’s so wonderful, isn’t she? His gaze strayed from the reporter to where you stood a few feet down the carpet, posing for the dozens of cameras. “Tellement belle.”So beautiful.

His eyes remained transfixed on you, the rest of the world fading into insignificance as he watched you approach. The chatter of the reporter beside him became distant background noise, overshadowed by the sight of your radiant smile. With each step you took closer, a surge of warmth flooded through him, causing his heart to swell with an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Charles turned back to the reporter just as he said “Looks like she is making her way over here!”

“Salut beau gosse!” Hi handsome! You gently press your lips to his cheek, the warmth of your smile radiating as Charles’ face lights up upon feeling your kiss. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, a comforting and possessive touch that speaks volumes of his affection and protectiveness towards you. A united front.

“You guys are seriously too cute!” 

The both of you smile largely at the reporter, thanking him, before heading down the carpet to enter the movie premiere.

It wasn’t until you crossed through the main doors of the building that you drop the smile, and his hand drops from the small of your back.

“Tellement crédule.” So gullible. He utters the words briefly, prompting a nod from you before you take a small, deliberate step back, putting some distance between the two of you. 

-

You learned early into the arrangement that Charles wasn’t capable of love. His heart seemed barricaded behind the walls of his ambition, his sole focus on climbing up the ladder of success in his career. It seemed easy at first though, it’s not like the either of you had any feelings for each other.

“Assez!” Charles roared from behind his imposing oak desk, his voice echoing through the room. “That’s enough!” His words cut through the tense atmosphere like a thunderclap, commanding your attention and halting any further discourse with an authority that brooked no argument.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, the delicate sundress draped over your form swayed gracefully with each purposeful step towards his desk. His gaze, cold and piercing, met yours as you reached out, your fingertips lightly grazing the polished wood surface. Leaning in just slightly, you locked eyes with him.

“Je vais me répéter une fois de plus,” I will repeat myself once more. You declared, your tone carrying a hint of assertiveness. Tracing the edge of the desk with a meticulously manicured nail, you maintained your composure, refusing to yield under his scrutinizing stare. “You need to be more careful in public.”

Your cheeks flushed red with frustration, a stark contrast against the determined set of your jaw. Despite the tension, Charles couldn’t help but be captivated by just how stunning you appeared in that moment. He couldn’t tell if he hated you or just wanted to fuck you.

He scoffed before reclining back in his chair, the top buttons of his shirt carelessly undone. His tousled hair appeared as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times—or perhaps someone else had.

He watched as your eyes traced along his disheveled hair and the partially undone buttons of his shirt, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Jealous, mon ange?” He teased; voice laced with amusement. Now it was your turn to scoff.

Mon ange. Him and that stupid nickname.

“Jamais.” Never. You replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt as you turned around. With a subtle sway of your dress, it raised slightly, offering him a glimpse of the lace set beneath it. Without another word, you walked out of the room, leaving him to ponder just how badly he wanted to remove that dress from your body.

He always resented how you seemed impervious to his charms. No matter his efforts, you remained aloof, seemingly untouched by his presence. It bothered him to no end. To him, you were an epitome of perfection, a constant reminder of his own shortcomings.

-

“Es-tu affamé?” Are you hungry?

You didn’t care if he was. You just needed to distract yourself from the fact he never came home last night. From the fact that he came home obviously smelling like another woman.

The marks on his neck had your throat feeling tight. Marks from another woman. Marks on your husband.

You tried your best to ignore the dark purple marks littered on his neck, and the tiredness in his eyes as he plopped down on the chair across from you. The umbrella in the center of the table, protecting you both from the bright sun as you sit beside the pool.

“Non, simplement fatigué.” Just tired.

You nodded slowly, your movements languid as you bit into a strawberry, its juices trickling carelessly past your lips and trailing down your neck in a sensuous cascade.

Charles couldn’t help but allow his gaze to follow the path of the juice, his eyes tracing its journey down your neck, almost reaching the enticing curve of your breasts.

You made no effort to wipe away the trail of juice, the glistening droplets lingering on your skin like a tantalizing invitation. With a knowing smile, you relish in the anticipation, fully aware of the effect it had on Charles. Men, they’re too easy.

“You should cover up those marks.” You bit into the rest of the strawberry, before standing from the table, preparing to dip into the pool. Charles hands reached out as you walked by him, his fingers dipping into the strings of the bikini bottoms at your hips. 

His touch seared through you like a branding iron, leaving a scorching trail of sensation in its wake. 

“Est-ce que ç ate derange?” Does it bother you? He looked up at you, his face serious.

The words felt like lead in your throat, heavy with unspoken truth. It didn’t bother you, did it? But deep down, it gnawed at you like a persistent ache, an undeniable discomfort you refused to acknowledge.

“No.” You attempted to push out of his grip, to no avail. “Lâche-moi.” Let go of me. He didn’t.

Never, is what he wanted to say.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned; his eyebrows scrunched as he looked up at you from his chair.

Your hands slipped around his wrists that rested on your hips. “Rien ne va pas.” Nothing is wrong. He cocked his head to the side, as if to say liar. You finally pull out of his grasp, walking towards the pool and jumping in.

End of discussion.

-

“Did you really need to eye fuck her the whole night?” You half-shouted in the passenger seat of his car, the cool leather seats contrasting with the warmth of your bare thighs clad in the mini skirt.

“Did you really take that guy’s number?” He half-shouted back, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel. 

“What’s wrong with taking his number?”

There was nothing wrong with taking his number. You both agreed you can date other people if it was kept under the wraps. But despite the coolness of the leather against your skin, it did little to quell the agitation simmering within Charles.

Perhaps it was the rarity of you into dating others. It wasn’t that you couldn’t attract men; in fact, men often vied for your attention. Rather, it was your own inclination against one-night stands that set you apart. Charles concluded in that moment that this must be the reason for his discomfort. And considering you had finally shown interest in someone, did it imply he was special?

“Tout le monde remarque!” Everyone noticed!  He spat out the words, unable to conjure a coherent response in his frustration. Deep down, he knew there was nothing inherently wrong with simply exchanging numbers.

You laughed, a carefree melody that seemed to dance through the car, causing you to lean forward over your lap. The casualness of your reaction grated against Charles, intensifying his frustration. How could you be so nonchalant about accepting another man’s number? The knot of unease in his stomach tightened, gnawing at him with a persistence he couldn’t comprehend.

“So?” You turned towards him; his eyes were focused solely on the road. “It’s not like I fucked him in front of everybody.”

Charles head snapped briefly towards you; his eyes narrowing with sharp intensity. The mere thought of you being intimate with another man felt like nails scraping against a chalkboard, setting his teeth on edge with raw, visceral discomfort.

Why was he so bothered? It’s not like he doesn’t fuck other girls.

-

“Où vas-tu?” Where are you going? You found yourself stood in the archway of the kitchen; Charles leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of water in his hand. 

His eyes trailed down your figure, a short black dress that hugged your curves. He felt his patience wearing thin as he watched you engrossed in your phone screen, fingers tapping away and a large smile on your face. 

Who were you texting?

“Hm?” You said, still smiling down at your screen. “Où vas-tu?” He egged on, his tone dripping with impatience at your lack of an answer.

“Oh, j’ai un rendez-vous.” I have a date. You tore your gaze away from the screen for the first time since you came downstairs. Lifting your eyes, you met Charles with an infectious smile spreading across your face. The sheer warmth and joy emanating from you caused Charles’s heart to momentarily falter in its rhythm.

A date? He felt sick.

Charles remained silent for a few moments, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand betraying the turmoil within him. The sudden crash of the glass hitting the kitchen floor startled you both, causing a shared flinch as shards slid across the tiled surface.

“What about my event tonight?” He disregarded the broken glass around him, his attention consumed by the word “date” echoing relentlessly in his mind.

“Pretend I’m sick or something,” You tilt your head in confusion. “You’ve gone to events without me before.”

It wasn’t until you went to make a step towards the broken glass that Charles snapped out of it. “Don’t come near, tu pourrais te faire mal.” You could get hurt.

The words made you stop in your tracks and your heart clench slightly.

“Je dois y aller.” I must go.

Your eyes meet Charles one last time, you offer him a small smile before pulling your phone to your ear and answering it with a smile.

Leaving Charles alone in the kitchen, the lingering question of when this feeling would dissipate hung heavily in the air.

“Je ne veux pas que tu partes.” I don’t want you to go. He muttered to nobody but himself in the empty house.

-

You went on a relentless series of dates since then, each time returning home with a grin that seemed to mock Charles. He longed to wipe that smug smile off your face, but deep down, all he truly desired was to see you genuinely happy. Yet, the idea of your happiness being derived from someone else filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake.

One night, Charles felt his sanity slipping as he anxiously waited for your return, each passing minute amplifying his restlessness. Was this what you did when he was away?

His unease peaked when you finally walked through the door well past noon, wearing a smile that seemed out of place and with your hair tousled, a stark departure to your usual pristine appearance. A faint, barely perceptible mark gracing your collarbone served as Charles’ triggering a tumult of emotions within him.

“Did you fuck him?” His voice was gruff as he walked up to you by the front door, essentially cornering you between the front door and his body.

Your eyes widened at his tone and question.

“Cela ne te regarde pas!” That’s none of your business! You shouted, your finger pressing into his chest.

His eyes blazed with fury, the green in them almost appearing black. “C’est tout à fait de mon affaire!” It’s all of my business! 

He was aware of his irrationality, but despite that knowledge, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming emotions stirring within him. All he wanted was for the burning ache in his chest to subside.

“Ce n’est pas juste.” That’s not fair. You countered, your narrowed eyes reflecting your simmering anger, your chest flushing red with frustration as you breathed heavily.

“Tu es ma femme.” You are my wife. He folded his arms firmly across his chest, the sinewy muscles of his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt, emphasizing his imposing presence.

You rolled your eyes, “C’est faux.” It’s fake. The words almost hurt to say aloud.

“Is it?” His words were short as he looked down at you, his gaze unfaltering, almost begging you to admit that there is something between you two.

“Oui.”

You pushed past him, rushing up the stairs and slamming your bedroom door shut.

-

You didn’t always fight though. There were good and bad days. Almost like a real marriage, right?

“Mon ange, wear the blue one.” His voice came from a distance as he sat on the edge of your bed, surrounded by the chaos of your closet. You felt a sense of panic wash over you, unable to find solace in any garment you tried on. You couldn’t even decide on a color.

“You always look good in that one, yeah?” He continued; his tone almost absentminded. Despite your turmoil, his words elicited a small smile, causing a faint blush to rise on your cheeks. Grateful that he couldn’t witness your reaction, you silently thanked whatever higher power existed. You vowed never to let him see you blush from his words.

You stepped out from your closet a few moments later, the blue silk dress that left little to the imagination of your breasts, with a small thankful smile on your face. Charles felt his hands itching to touch you as you leaned over the vanity, applying a last coat of lip gloss.

“Prête?” Ready? You turned back towards him, the small pebble of your nipples poking through the thin fabric, a sight that momentarily arrested Charles’s attention. With an effort, he tore his gaze away, clearing his throat discreetly before nodding in response and leading you out the house.

“Pourquoi cela?” What is this for? You quickly ask about the purpose of tonight over the low murmur of the radio as Charles pulls into the valet area of the event.

“It’s for charity,” He swung open his car door, the faint sound of camera clicks filling the air in the moment it remained ajar before he swiftly closed it again. With a sense of urgency, he hurried around the car to open your door, his movements a flurry of activity as he sought to ensure your comfort.

Tonight, he remained steadfastly by your side, his attention solely focused on you, his wife. He didn’t allow his gaze to wander, even as other females vied for his attention with near desperation. It was a departure from his usual behavior, as if he finally decided to listen to your complaints.

“Tu es magnifique.” You look beautiful. He muttered into your ear, his words meant for you alone, shielded from prying cameras. It caught you off guard—a genuine compliment, untainted by presence of the reporters or observers.

-

“Mon ange, regarde tes cheveux!” Look at your hair! Charles laughter filled the kitchen, reverberating off the walls with a hearty resonance. It wasn’t long until you joined in, your laughter mixing with his in symphony. The sight of both of you covered in flour from your baking rendezvous added a touch of whimsy to the moment, the white powder dusting your hair like a playful snowfall.

You stepped closer towards him, a playful pout forming on your lips, while he looked down at you with a twinkle in his vibrant green eyes. The intensity of the green hue in his eyes was so striking that it caused your stomach to flutter with nervous anticipation.

You noticed his eyes briefly flicker to your lips before meeting with yours again. A silent ask.

His flour dusted fingertips rested against your jaw, holding your face in the palm of his hands, while his eyes flickered to your lips again. 

“Laisse-moi t’embrasser, s’il te plait.” Let me kiss you, please. His words were so quiet, as if you both were secluded in your own bubble. You didn’t answer as your eyes trailed all over his face. As if you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Ne me fais pas supplier.” Don’t make me beg.

He could feel the rapid pace of your heart, almost beating out of your chest as he uttered the words. You nodded in response, but before you could even finish the nod, his lips crashed into yours.

It was anything but gentle. As if, you both had waited years to be able to do this without a camera in your presence.

His tongue slipped into your mouth almost instantly, eliciting a soft moan that escaped your lips and melded with his own. He groaned in response, his arms encircling your waist to draw you closer, pressing you flush against his chest before guiding your back against the messy countertop. One hand found its place against the nape of your neck and jawline, holding your head in place with gentle insistence. Meanwhile, the other hand tenderly played with the ends of your hair before wrapping them around his fist, holding your hair firmly yet tenderly.

“Si doux.” So sweet. He murmured against your lips; his breath warm against your skin as he continued to savor the moment. 

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his biceps, holding him close, though he showed no inclination to pull his body away from yours.

His lips trailed along your jawline as he pulled the ends of your hair, lulling you head back to give him more access to your neck. Another soft moan left your lips, escaping into the kitchen, as he sucked on the spot where that mark once was.

“Drive me crazy, mon ange.” He muttered against your skin, peppering kisses along your neck, along your jawline, until he met your lips again with a soft peck.

Your eyes met his and you could’ve sworn you would’ve dropped to your knees right then and there for him. 

The distant ring of a cell phone was heard in the background, immediately causing you to push him away from you. Your cellphone.

You looked at Charles with a sense of panic. What were you doing?

As if Charles could sense that panic, he brushed off the pain with a small smile. “Tu devrais répondre à ça.” You should answer that.

-

You didn’t see Charles for a few days following the kiss. 

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here? Charles eyebrows were furrowed as he took in your figure standing before him, an unnamed bag in hand.

You shook the bag in your hand, “Déjeuner.” Lunch. You waved the bag around like it was no big deal. Like you didn’t come all the way to Maranello to bring your fake husband lunch.

You found yourself unsure of the exact reason behind your actions, yet you did it anyways. With Charles away for the past few days, leaving you alone at home, a peculiar sense of longing seemed to linger in the air. Though you refused to admit it outright, all indications hinted at a quiet, yearning for his presence that you got so accustomed to over time.

“Tu n’avais pas besoin de le faire.” You didn’t need to. A smile pulled on his lips as he slung his arm over your shoulder, grateful for the sight of you.

“Je m’ennuyais.” I was bored. You confessed with a shrug, a hint of sheepishness coloring your tone.

He pulled you into an empty room, wordlessly. Instructing you to take a seat as he grabbed two waters from the nearby fridge.

“Comment se passe le travail?” How’s work? You asked, although your inquiry was more out of habit than genuine interest. Since the kiss, you found yourself at a loss for how to engage with him, unsure of how to navigate the shifting dynamics between you two.

He chuckled softly, choosing to settle into a chair beside you rather than sitting across from you, as if he wanted to be close to you. “Tu m’as manqué.” I missed you. He confessed quietly, his tone revealing a vulnerability he rarely displayed with you.

The tips of your ears flushed with a rosy hue in response to his confession, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze softened as you reached into the bag, delicately arranging the food on the table before him, each movement infused with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

“C’est bon.” It’s okay. He muttered, a silent acknowledgment passing between you two. “I know you missed me too.”  A smirk pulled on his lips as you shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. 

You didn’t deny it.

[the-words-we-sung]

The songs of Young Royals - S1 E1

So after a few re-watch I started noticing how well the songs are used in the show and I wanted to chat a little bit about it ^^ (Because I'm usually watching alone with my cat and he doesn't really care about my opinions on how awesome the show is at picking its songs :p So hopefully people here will be more interested!!)

Bad, Farveblind

I think it's wrong I think it's bad I think it's lame I think it's horrible The song starts when we see Wilhelm at the club where he gets in a fight and then we get the chorus through his earbuds in the car (note: I love it when a show put a music in the background that ends up being something a character is actually listening to in the scene!!). He just got out of a shitty situation which will have huge repercussions on his life and his mother is making decisions about his life without asking him: the show is not subtle about telling us how "wrong" and "bad" it is. And despite this lil' foreshadowing (the song plays before Minou tells Wille about his mother's decisions) and Wilhelm's strong opinion against them, it's still gonna happen. Going to a boarding school is "lame" (or so Wilhelm thinks) and the whole situation is "horrible". And yeah, it's gonna suck on a lot of points, but it's also gonna change his life...

Wannabee Ghetto, Fata Boom

... Keep up the front like it's your decision ... Look our best Covering up what we're missin It's literally what Wilhelm has to do now. His mother decided for him that he should change school and enroll at Hillerska, he is not happy about this plan but has to pretend he's okay with it. He just lied to the public that it was a decision he took part in. He is the prince, even if he's not (yet) the Crown Prince, and he has an image to maintain. An image that was damaged due to the video of the fight: someone is literally putting make up on him to "cover up" the marks of the fight so he can look his "best". And what is he missing? Well August will say it at least twice: he doesn't have the same drive as him or Erik. So he's missing the desire to be on top, to be king, to keep the status quo...

It takes a fool to remain sane, The Ark

... Wasn't life supposed to be more than this ... Let go off my hand and it will slip on the sand If you don't give me the chance To break down the walls of attitude I ask nothing of you, not even your gratitude 'Cause it takes a fool to remain sane ... Of becoming like the others Who become unhappy mothers And fathers of unhappy kids This song!! Such a great choice for their first song <3 Wilhelm being so incredibly unhappy and stuck because "being a prince is a privilege, not a punishment" but he wants more for his life. It is supposed to be "more than this", more than pressure and appearance. The song going on with the "unhappy mothers / unhappy kids" while we follow Erik and Wilhelm stiffly posing for pictures outside. How can Wilhelm not be scared? Is it the life that awaits him? Always keeping a nice front, not being himself?And why is that? 'Cause they've forgotten how to play But Erik and Wilhelm haven't forgotten yet!! Right after these lyrics we have a playful Erik who suggests they take off in the middle of the photo-shoot! And they do!! So there's hope for them!!

I see you, Nadia Tehran

Back to their bases Covering their faces Tones through the breeze yeah The power calls crises Round my crowd No cops allowed Interestingly the song starts with "you ain't welcome here, you don't look like us". This part is not in the show but works so well for Wilhelm starting at Hillerska. He's getting hazed by his peers "covering their faces" and being really rough with him (this hazing is so yucky, I struggle watching it every time ^^'), and he's welcome here because he's the prince, because he's supposed to be part of their world. But he's not gonna be like them. Do they know it already? "You don't look like us", and thanks god for that!! (And yup, "no cops allowed", right August? You can do whatever you want here without any consequences...)

Blah blah blah, Armin van Buuren

All we ever hear from you is blah blah blah So all we ever do is go ja ja ja And we don't even care about what they say The song plays while August is talking to Wilhelm about being among his peers and criticizing him for wanting to be "normal" at his previous school. I love that this song is playing because, yes, it's a good party song, but also, it's probably what everyone watching the show is thinking when August is being an insufferable prick like that! And Wilhelm too, who just usually goes "ja ja ja / yes yes yes" to what August tells him (until he stops and finally goes openly against him, but for now in the show, he just listens and nods). Erik told him he should listen and trust August, so he listens to him. But at this moment Simon appears, and suddenly Wilhelm "don't even care about what they say" because the cute boy he already has a big crush on just arrived. And August and his stupid speeches about rich people being above everyone else don't matter anymore.

[qvrcll]

posing (as a playboy centerfold)

summary: loving ellie is as simple as it can be. the routine you fall into is painless, so easy it threatens to tear past what has been. but can you ever set still this palpable, throbbing heart that feels for her?

warning: showering together, nudity mentioned, mention of injuries / old wounds / stitch wounds, established relationship but pining still, just some word vomit tbh !!

a/n: hi! it’s been a WHILE! but i’ve seriously gone through a rollercoaster of emotions because i came upon the realisation that being burnt out can make it seem like you’ve literally lost your ability to write and in my fear of trying to keep up with requests, i literally couldn’t write a single sentence i could like. this is something i’ve managed that i don’t completely hate :,] college melodrama is coming soon btw!! thank u to every single one of u who has shown it support, i love u all :,]

bathing with ellie is a simple, domestic routine you fall into. there’s no set-back’s, no restrictions and no effort on either end as you perch yourself into the commodity of the tub, body spent and leeching with the spread of its efforts. there’s that bruise you’d bottled on the trip with tommy for supplies on your thigh that still remains despite your effort to rid of it. if you want to search for them, your bruises and wounds show, even against the kiss of the water in the tub, red, tinged mauve and showing up blood orange with time. there’s history in everything, you think, as you relax against the ceramic sweep against your body, before her voice sounds,

“what are you thinking about?”

you turn your head, smile already swallowing your face when you catch the height of ellie against the bathroom door. she’s half naked, jeans shimming down her hips as she quickly presses her palms against the wall for balance. she snickers when she sees you comically flout your arms against the edge of the tub, goading with a smile as you take it all in. take a while to just admire her.

“take a picture, it would last longer,” she presses on, the laugh spent in her voice as she’s bare now, completely. there’s the bruise on her shoulder from last week, when she’d caught that foetid fall upon the stone and hedge of her foes, or the blunting image of that stitch wound she’d given herself after she’d cut the skin open on that abrasive ground maria had always warned everyone about. her arms are littered with the testament of her past endeavours — scratches, marks, something admirable and accomplished that she’s glazed with that makes it incredibly hard to skirt your eyes off of. and she’s level enough with you to notice the lucidity of your stare. but instead of words, she joins you in the bath.

the water oddly rises and sets with her body behind yours, some of it sneaking onto the floor but you can’t seem to care when she’s pinioning her weight against your back in a way that’s so obvious, it burns — her fingers, lithe and callous as you’ve discerned them to be, roam the tight space between you and the water and you look at her with that knowing glare, that slip of your shoulders that ask ‘ellie, where do you think your hands are going?’ and she’ll laugh against that safe-spot she’s borrowed into the liberty of your neck. and the further she goes, the more she presses into your skin slovenly little kid who’s got a hint of candy for the very first time, the more you’re realising none of this ever does stop. this loving, this push-and-pull de-facto she’s got going with you, this lambency you’ve let live inside of you.

it’s all so real that it scares you.

you turn around, promptly, facing her but not really. your eyes are as assailable as they can be, but they’re sprouting lower, sailing on a nerve and landing on the skin of her arms, the brawn of her shoulders. she catches your ambulant gaze and fixes a smirk, is in the thick of a smirk, when her body goes cold like meat in your very tub.

“what… are you doing…?”

her voice is far from its usual front, now reduced to an embarrassed purr as she regulates the feeling that punches against her like a brute. tries to fine-tune the notion that you’re quite literally touching her, feeling the skin of her mid section, assessing it like you were to be the town’s next medico. you look up, obviously, because you’ve never heard her this splintered before, thinking you’ve vaulted too far before you’re realising with a lissom smile that oh, she’s so very flustered with you just feeling her.

“what does it look like i’m doing?”

you poke her on, watch her face burst into flames, her words mitigate into quiet fluxes of ‘i don’t know what you’re doing… just like… touching my belly? what are you doing?’

and you literally have to carve the words out that you’re admiring her. reaching for her scars in spite of the intrusion of the water. pawing the rough and unearthed parts of her in the wet of it. coursing her like wet mud for excavators to dig through. like she’s the moon strung on a string. but you can’t. can’t fit the words onto your tongue, even in the teeth of your belief, even if you splice and section it to be statable.

your love for ellie is taking a space in your heart, lettering something illegible, holding the memory of her so close, so taut, that all you can say is,

“i love you.”

© 2023 qvrcll. Do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[posarmeklen]

Don’t you hate when you turn your back for a minute at your dead-end copy job (sorry, dead-end desktop publishing job), and all of a sudden, one half of your sister’s cool teen quartet along with your horndog conspiracist friend are holding paper products (er, helping with a big job) and flapping their lips about the latter’s fairly new unplanned pregnancy?

It was just a coincidence that Goat swung by to visit Alex at Repro Man’s shortly after Fruity and Matt came in, and even though they had heard through Chaka (who, naturally, knew because of Alex) that the older man was in a “delicate” condition, it was their first time bumping into him in person since.

Hearing Fruity’s compliments, Matt turned around from the poster in his hands. “Oh, hey, Goat,” he greeted him.

“Hey, Matt, what’s up?”  

“Probably nothing compared to what’s up with you, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Goat coughed.

“Yeah, you know, my cousin just had a baby a couple months ago,” Matt offered up. “I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t easy for her, but she said it was totally worth it. You know, yin and yang and all that.”

“Hey, I don’t think this situation calls for the poetry.” Fruity made a disapproving smacking sound with his lips.  “Man, can’t you just leave this beautiful thing be?” Goat smirked.

“Chill out, alright?” said Matt, gingerly transferring a large stack of paper from Fruity’s hands to his own and placing it by the copier. “I was just going to ask how he’s taking it.”

“Well,” Goat said emphatically. “Do you want the miracle-of-life Demi Moore Vanity Fair edition, or the cold unabridged truth?” His words conjured an image of himself, au naturel and assuming the pose of the actress, which subsequently splintered and fell away like a broken pane of glass.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than the second one from you.” Matt smiled.

“Oh, it’s fuckin’ brutal,” he asserted. “Imagine the most head-splitting zombifying hangover, with none of the fun from the night before.”

Fruity raised his eyebrows. “None?”

“Oooh, rough…” Matt mumbled sympathetically.

“My back hurts all time. Everything’s sweaty. Plus, on top of that, I can’t really see my junk. It makes for a challenge when women’s volleyball is on and I wanna –”

“Alright, alright…” Matt’s laugh cut the description of his plight short. “I think we get the picture.”

“Hey, we’re all guys here!” grinned Fruity, giving an open-palmed shrug.

“I will say, it’s not a total loss,” Goat went on. “I seem to have unlocked a brand-new level of savoring life’s pleasures.”

“Oh, because you had trouble with that before, right?” teased Matt.

“Eh, I don’t know, but this baby must love Ring-Dings and Bud Light.”

“Hey, and at least the ladies eat up this stuff,” Fruity said. “You know, feeling the baby kick and comparing its size to a dill pickle and crap. They must be all over you.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, right on.” Goat looked past him, letting out a sigh. “Is there a bathroom in this place? I gotta take a leak.”

“Yeah, right over by the back wall,” said Matt.

“I won’t keep you,” Fruity added, motioning in the general direction of the door.

So anyway, when it comes to Fruity’s comment re: the “fairer sex” and pregnancy, I would be remiss not to mention the kindred spirit Goat hit it off with, the child’s second parent (seen in my Downtown posts of yesteryear. However, I did change her name for some reason. Friendship ended with “Jackie”, “Kasey” is my best friend now). *clears my throat and shuffles flashcards* There came a point of awareness that despite their similarities, they were at really different life stages (Goat had been doing his own thing for years, but Kasey, a trans woman who was Goat’s age, had been living as herself for a fraction of that and was relishing her freedom) and while Goat initially hadn’t changed his lifestyle a bit to accommodate the pregnancy, she didn’t want to live like him forever and begrudged his seeming lack of trying. Words were exchanged, and the pair went their separate ways. Not to worry – they would soon rekindle, and both put forth effort to be healthier (in Goat’s case, he was mostly propelled by the knowledge of his physical condition; in Kasey’s, she was inspired to show a sort of solidarity with him, plus she would soon be a parent as well, despite not physically being pregnant).  But given their respective issues, neither swayed the other in a positive direction, and they soon reached the disappointing yet amicable conclusion that they were perhaps too alike to remain close. And in the midst of that, they just knew neither of them were cut out to raise children (what were we thinking?) – so wish granted for a lucky adoptive parent(s). But I digress… I wonder if some of this diverted him from regaling Fruity and Matt with salacious tales when given the opportunity.

Also, by the way? Even though Fruity was being facetious in my picture and Goat wouldn’t name his offspring after himself, he and the aforementioned second parent did discover at an ultrasound (the first and only; Goat completely forgot about an appointment scheduled earlier in the pregnancy 😑) that the fetus was male. Goat after he and Kasey exchanged an overwhelmed glance and muttered fragmented agreeable noises upon being asked if they were interested in finding out the baby’s sex today: “Rock on! Built-in apprentice and wingman, here I come…” *medical technician politely chuckling intensifies*

[nwarrior777]

Sir,

Read your hospital notes. Sorry to hear that you were overwhelmed at first and that your room was not comfortable. I am glad that they seem to have moved you to a better one.

The realization of not having your own space is a difficult one to contend with, especially with no quick solution in sight. It's completely understandable to desire privacy and your own place where you can set things up just as you like them. I am sorry that you do not have that now, but I hope that the future you are working towards meets you faster than expected and that you can rejoice in making the space your own. Maybe think of that future as a motivating reward, like your waking up comic? Thinking things like, "When I have my own flat, I'll hang curtains like this" or, "Someday I will keep a set of dishes like these in my kitchen and they'll be my favorites." I am not in my own space right now either, but the idea of a better future comforts me somewhat, so I hope that maybe it could help you, too.

I hope that you continue to have good moments while you are resting and that any surprises when you leave are the good and pleasant kind.

Wishing you well on your journey.

i am sorry i know its all around now in text and this blog is a mess atm but

that bird-bringed letter brings me so much happiness, i can't explain why it can't be just my love for dandy aesthetic vibes right???

its just.. its like i often think, how i will stay in history. i think about that poets which letters and diary now in museums. about artists, who are on conversation even after decades.

and its such a... cute heartwarming feeling to get those Sir, messages yk?? i feel like i am in history, i am some poet some artist. laying sick'ish in renesanse pose on bed with light flickering on face yeah but there is something other

like. its just. some person, anonymously, making it for me. maybe not one even, i can't say cause its anon letters. So much effort of styling this message in such poetic form. So much care. For many times! It just touches my heart so deep

also the bit about me-now getting closer to me from future? like. that is literally poetic. it is a poem itself its such poetic image.

i love it so much and it calms me, it makes me happy and i feel so many emotions, but they are all calm and poetic. Incredible

Thank you so much, thank you. I mean, i have a lot others asks in ask box with support, which i love too so much, but its just so. I mean you get it, just read this i want to print it in old type and on wall i mean, that thing about menow getting closer to future one really got me

Thank you a lot, Dear gentelman Bird Letter Sender

With Love Love Love, Kris! 🖤

[tadpolebobatea]

Day 7 - A song you associate with UU

Oh girlies we're really in it now. its still the 31st somewhere right?

I never know whether to call something an animatic or not. like its kinda static? whatever!!!!

(Yep its billytella again. no apologies. i wont mean them)

i had a few other songs i was considering. i mean I have a couple songs that are A. more actively billytella or B. more actively Undead unluck.

specifically "the truth" by the front bottoms, its very billytella to me with its whole "i will believe in anything you believe in. i will do it for you" and "over at the frankenstein place" from rocky horror, its super sweet and uplifting but rocky horror is complete balls to the wall insanity, which i think suits undead unluck, like theres a quote thats lovely out of context but then the context is "the character is in the middle of trying to kill the anthropomorphic concept of spring with a card game." i think rocky suits that energy

in the end i couldn't get the imagery to work in my head. so maybe another time.

This thing really is my excuse t draw the blorbos in the most sappy poses possible. (oh and to make more people listen to will wood )

Images i think deserve special mention (there are 90+ in the thing btw)

this one of wet dog tella. it goes by super fast but i thought it was charming

i was possessed by something and had to draw tella like... giving billy water directly from his hands (oh and the visual of going bottoms up with an unbrella wasnt the vibe necessarily )

pretty proud of this detail, direct gunshot to the head from our dead eye billy and scattered body shots from tella, for flavour

(i regret the blue skin. i made billy look like the purple guy.)

drawing billy like a ditzy clumsy anime girl is deeply funny to me. cutie pie.

gently holds ughhhhhh (Tellla does not enjoy being known)

Im a total sucker for characters hugging in general. but i really love the whole; clinging to you as the only thing thats keeping me sane thing

They are married. to me. (this is the only time ive successfully drawn the back of tellas head. i wanted to highlight it. im really proud)

i did have an ounce of consistency in this whole thing regarding heights. was entirely based on vibes. I need actual measurements (ill ignore them. but theyd be nice to have)

this image exists because i was like "oh shit. i have a ton of "characters facing eachother and doing X" but no like... diverse profiles" so boop, moe over the shoulder shot

[ya-kiri]

My Thoughts on the Zelda Timeline and Tears of the Kingdom

Given how the Imprisoning War mentioned in Tears of the Kingdom contradicts the one mentioned in the prolouge of Link to the Past, Rauru and Sonia forming the Kingdom of Hyrule and being the first King and Queen (despite Ocarina of Time coming before) and the Ganondorf in this game seemingly having no recollection of past Links/Heroes and Zeldas or connection to the Ganondorf of past games...it's my guess that they reset the series lore starting with Breath of the Wild and the ten thousand years between it and the era of Myth.

The only other game that stills seems to have any relevant unchanged and non-contradicted canon seems to be Skyward Sword but that's mostly due to it being a starting point, the game's director being the same as BOTW and TOTK, and the Forgotten Temple. Honestly it seems like that because they reintroduced and make allusions to key moments and figures in the series in this game like the Sages (particularly King Rauru) and Imprisoning War from LttP, and Ganondorf and him being welcomed by the King and distrusted by Zelda like he was in Ocarina of Time. I should also point out that the original Imprisoning War happens right before the Fallen Timeline which takes place after OoT, and in that Ganondorf has permanently transformed into pig Ganon after killing Time Link and attaining the full Triforce.

There are too many timeline contradictions yet intentional references in the game's story to past games that it seems like a reboot is the most credible idea.

However at the same time, there are too many connections to previous games that take place after Skyward Sword that even the idea of a series reboot is questionable like the Temple of Time, old OoT Castle Town ruins, the sages from OoT being referenced by the stones surrounding the Master Sword and the Sheikah monks' poses during the Master Sword Trials, the Koroks and Deku Tree, the mural about Ruto's love for Time Link, Rauru sharing the name of one of the sages from OoT, and Darmani. Also, what are the chances of there being another event in Zelda lore referred to as the Imprisoning War that involves an incarnation of Ganon, sages, sealing Ganon, and one of the sages being named Rauru like the Sage of Light?

link to image: x

Are the games during the Era of Myth just that, mythology? Fairy tales? Is there even a Triforce anymore? The symbol is shown but its not referred to as such and Ganondorf in this game shows no interest or knowledge of the Triforce like every other character. On the opposite end of this is Skyward Sword which they reinforce is connected to the latest games with Fi, the Forgotten Temple and Sealed Temple connections, the tree growing out the wall and the fact the Hylia statue gives you the Goddess Sword:

It's so weird everytime Tears of the Kingdom's story made a reference to past games (that aren't Skyward Sword), when you think they are trying to connect them (like I initially thought), it turns around and makes it self-contained and isolated incident exclusive from any game that came before BOTW and Skyward Sword. With all the trouble Nintendo's had making sense of and reworking the Zelda timeline the past few decades for the fans and the success of Breath of the Wild, may be they wanted to wipe the slate clean (with Skyward Sword being the start of that initiative).

At first maybe they were hesistant which is why they stated the timelines converge into BOTW, but I guess they decided during TOTK's development or before and, again, may be due to the massive success of BOTW they just said screw it and just do it with the latest game's story showing the beginning of the Kingdom of Hyrule. These are just my messy thoughts based on my basic understanding of the timeline and theories I've heard and I welcome any other explanations.

EDIT(6/19/23)

So it's been brought to my attention that the Imprisoning War in TOTK may possibly be a second Imprisoning War (thanks @ghoul--chan ). The implications and can of worms that opens is shocking. Since Zelda was transported to the beginning of Hyrule as a kingdom and the start of the Royal Family, that would mean that she was transported to before Minish Cap. If that is true...dear goddess.... that would mean the Ganondorf in this game is one that existed before Ocarina of Time.

That also implies that two incarnations of Ganondorf had been somehow co-existing at the same time during the Era of Myth with one being sealed underground. This also mean that the Imprisoning War in Link to the Past is now retroactively a callback to this hypothetical first Imprisoning War; both involve sages, both involve a sage of Light named Rauru, and both involve sealing an incarnation of Ganon. Also, this means the Rito existed before Wind Waker making this mural from Twilight Princess HD reference to that!!

[stormyoceans]

hey girl write down your top 7 (this is nice number😋) of js's fav photo shoots, images

THIS IS SUCH A GREAT QUESTION AND 7 IS INDEED A VERY NICE NUMBER BUT IN THIS PARTICULAR CASE IT MIGHT BE A WAY TOO SMALL ONE LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK ONLY 7 PICTURES FROM JIMMYSEA PHOTOSHOOTS WHEN WE GOT SO MANY JUST THESE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS ✋😭

i mean of course im still gonna try to do it, but know im throwing up all the blood in my body every step of the way and that if you ask me this question again in a couple of weeks the answer might be different ;;;;;;;

ANYWAY HERE GOES NOTHING!!!!!!!!

1. the chemistry in front of this fish tank is astronomical from LEMON Magazine. sorry idk what else to say except that they're literally just looking at each other and yet every time i so much as barely glance at it i still find myself in a dead faint in front of my screen drowning in the sheer incomprehensible levels of magnetism electricity tension vibes oozing from this one (1) single still image. like i know maybe it's weird to put it in first place since it only has their faces and nothing else but it really makes feel in dire need of a mental health crisis intervention team THIS IS WHAT THE WALLS OF MY PADDED ROOM LOOK LIKE

2. forehead touch from Starry Magazine. WHAT CAN I SAY IM NOT IMMUNE TO FOREHEAD TOUCHES. they're giving such effervescent 'we are so deeply intertwined and enthralled by each other that everything else just falls away' vibes that i can even look past the school boys attire this picture is just THAT beautiful. also the tenderness!!!!!!!! the sunflower!!!!!!!! I AM BUT A WEAK WOMAN

3. cuntitude Xtreme100 from ViVi men. invented maximizing their joint slay and serving so much coquettecore cuntism it makes me act deeply unwise. idek what's the worst (read: best) part of it all if jimmy's bold jewelries or sea's outfit that exposes the mole on his chest for the world to see or how fluffy their hair look or the way jimmy is resting his arms on sea's shoulder while sea's head is turned just enough to brush against jimmy's all i know is that whoever styled them for this shoot deserves a raise and a kiss on the mouth.

4. interconnectedness from PRAEW Magazine. look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn't belong in the louvre with a little tag on display under it that shows this exact title like with all due respect to my man leonardo but the mona lisa ain't shit compared to this picture. it should be studied in art classes all around the world for its lines and composition and contemporary figuration and how the intertwinement of the bodies is a metaphor for the mingling of souls throughout lifetimes. OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

5. whole face economy in one image from Mint Magazine. never in the history of the whole entire world have two people looked more stunning like the visual excellence displayed here never fails to propel me into an entire different reality. the other reason i love this one so much is that this is their usual pose but for once sea is the one holding jimmy and that truly makes me feel some type of way, the photographer really was on some galaxy brain shit for this one.

6. sea's oral fixation from ViVi men. at first i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot on the list just to give more variety but im currently too rabid about this one to leave it out. im not sure what compelled sea to put one of the strings from jimmy's hoodie in his mouth but that sure was. A CHOICE. i also love jimmy's smile and the more casual clothes and sea's silly goose vibes and how warm and huggable and comfort shaped they look.

7. high fantasy concept from LEMON Magazine. once again i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot but i think this ones deserves a place on here even just for how original it is like THE VISION THE TASTE THE FLAVOUR THE STYLE THE INSPIRATION THE QUALITY THE VIBES CHINESE MAGAZINES TRULY ARE ON SUCH A COMPLETE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF CREATIVITY GMMTV WISHES IT COULD COME UP WITH SUCH INCREDIBLE OUT OF THIS WORLD IDEAS.

[muriellelibrary]

I have not had art in a physical gallery since my college days, but this year Oddball Art Labs are hosting a show through July about cryptids and monsters and such. I really wanted to participate. Get something on a wall. So I did. I hemmed and hawed over what to do. I didn't wanna go with a bigfoot or one of the many similar ones... I thought about Nessie, as that was my first cryptid love, but it wasn't speaking to me. Then I found this delightful creature: The Belled Buzzard. Took a bit of a liberty as turkey vultures* aren't great graspers so that bell would probably never happen but it is a special bird, despite just literally being a turkey vulture wearing a bell. (It is traditionally pictured with a cowbell/sleigh bell around it's neck.)

Anyhow, it spoke to me and I did it and I even went to the opening reception. Deets on the show are in the link, but the original will be showing through the month and is available for purchase. I will also have prints at upcoming conventions.

[Image Description: A turkey vulture in a semi-horaltic** pose, seen from the side. In one of its claws, there is a large, round, silver bell. Subtly reflected in the bell is a Grim Reaper. The background is confined in a more traditional bell shape, with a depiction of a tornado, storm clouds and three more distant vultures in flight. There is limited color, primarily sepia tones, except the bell which is in greys and the bare flesh of the bird's head which is red.]

*Some fun things about turkey vultures aka turkey buzzards! You see that little dot at the end of it's crooked smile? That's its EAR. ALSO, they have an amazing sense of smell! (Rare for birds) You see how it looks like their is a hole right through the skull? Those are the nostrils! They have no septum dividing them! There are lots of bird anatomy features you can observe on vultures because they have no feathers on their little wrinkly faces. (And yes, they have comparably small heads for a bird their size.)

**The horalitc pose is when a bird will partially or fully open it's wings to sun itself. Very common in vultures especially.

[mydetheturk]

What order should I watch/read trigun? Like anime first before maximum? Or does it matter or not? I really do want to get into maximum because I heard nothing but good things about it!

oh! um. Hi? I don't think i'm an expert or anything but i can do my best?

you. You probably don't wanna do what i did, which was: only just get into trigun when stampede came out, watch the first three episodes, think to yourself "damn this is cool. three episode rule really kicked in hard. this is a compliment," watch weekly until episode 6, find out hulu has the original anime dubbed and proceed to watch that in about 3 days, continue watching tristamp for another couple weeks, find the overhaul project of the manga, read a volume or two a night until you've started volume 8, at which point you read the rest of volumes 8-14 in a blur (pausing for a cry at volume 10), at which point the last two episodes of season one of tristamp have yet to come out; your roommate makes you watch badlands rumble with them the same night you watch the season finale, JUST so they can watch you watch wolfwood say the gayest sentence you've ever heard with your own two ears.

follow all of this up with the trigun book club (started by @trigunbookclub) to actually figure out what the fuck you were reading in the first place.

um.

if you want to start with one of the anime, you can either start with tristamp or trigun 98 first - tristamp season one is 12 episodes and its set up as a prequel series. trigun 98 is mostly vibes, but its really fun - in its defense, the only thing out of trigun the manga at the time was the two volumes of trigun and maybe the first volume or two of trimax? tristamp is working with the whole of trimax, and if you read trimax before watching tristamp you'll catch stuff! there's also stuff in trimax that reference the 98 anime! its a very self-referential series. (complimentary)

or you can jump right into trimax! i recommend the translation done by @trigun-manga-overhaul - they've done a really good job of translating it and keeping things consistent. dark horse has the official release, and i can't say anything for or against it atm because i am still working my way through it. i don't have all the volumes and i haven't just gotten the digital version yet. i keep forgetting

it's fairly heavy in tone though - themes such as bodily autonomy come up, assault of various kinds, body horrors, mental illnesses, just a whole host of things. Nightow does a really good job handling them, imo. plus the art is insane! in a genuinely good way! i love how nightow lets us sit with things sometimes!

Nightow also has really lovely pieces of perspective art and there are so many times while reading (and rereading) the manga I've just left the image open if I've got the overhaul translation up or sat my physical dark horse copy (the single volumes are hard to get (prohibitively expensive in the used manga market, even for someone with a 50% discount thanks to work) but dark horse is putting out a deluxe edition starting this fall (oct '23)) down and just. soaked it in. i know I've got posts in my book club tag talking about how nightow's art Works Thematically

(despite the "goofy" part in my title, there aren't a ton of goofs in trimax or tristamp, but the ones that are there genuinely make it hurt more. this is a compliment. it's a little Pratchett-esque in this way.)

(trigun is a fucked up scifi western, and it changed my brain chemistry. this is important for you to know. it will change your brain chemistry. are you prepared for the consequences?)

(i did pose this to some peeps & they suggest 98/trimax/tristamp, just because 98 prepares you for the art style in trimax where tristamp has so many references to trimax. they did concede that i while i might have had the weirdest way of getting into trigun, it might have actually been the most well rounded. jury's out getting peer-reviewed)

Genuinely sorry about the wall of text, and I hope it makes sense! Enjoy Trigun! have fun getting your brain rewired!

[ilovejoyjessie]

Hidden Figures #3 (Wandering Rocks by Tony Smith) || IV.

By this point in Skyclad and I's rolling through the park - while we'd gotten through the first couple of figures I'd wanted to pose with with no disturbances by passersby - as we prepared to move on to the next, a wild Entitled-To-Take-A-Stance Seattlite appeared and in peak form. I saw the man and his companion approaching and quickly pulled my tulle skirt - which doubled as my modesty garment - as we waited for them to pass. Seeing us taking photos and posing within the structure, Perre's Ventaglio III at the moment, he took quite the umprage with what we were up and- instead of simply raising an eyebrow and carrying along with his early morning walk, made sure to make loud, passive aggressive commentary about us posing within the structures, "Doing it for 'the 'Gram'" and engaging in "anything for social media".

.

Little did he know how he was casually exhibiting one of the fascinating dichotomies I've noticed from some in the area that helped inspire the idea for Hidden Figures in the first place: We love art, live in an area where art surrounds us and where art can be found all over, and we have no problem with art....but if we see people making it in a way they "shouldn't be", we must inform them with a scoffing air of "You clearly don't know how to appreciate this the /right/ way." "Not that way and not in my public space," the man's reaction to us conveyed as he continued to chastise two artists that dared to create in "his" space, interrupting his peaceful morning stroll - so much so that he chastised all the way up the path until the two saw someone they could point us out to so that person knew what we were "up to". (I wonder how he feels about Banksy or Keith Herring and if he thought they were truly ruining the walls of the buildings they created on...I wonder how his friends responded when he told them later how he "busted a couple of people within sculptures at the park", minding their own business and quietly taking photos at 7 in the morning...and similarly wonder if his companion was used to his aggressively condescending behavior or was too embarrassed to say anything to him about exhibiting it...but I digress...).

.

We deduced that he likely let a security guard know that we were "up to something" within the sculptures because, as we rounded the bend up to where Wandering Rocks was stationed, Skyclad and I noticed that security guard walking slowly, keeping an extra eye on us as we made our way up the park and stopped at one more piece along the way. Rocks was one of the main pieces I knew I wanted to pose with before we arrived there so when we finally made it there, Skyclad and I were cautious to stay outside of its roped boundaries so that we could get at least some shots with it in case the now-on-alert security guard shooed us along. Though they weren't exactly what I had envisioned, the shots quickly snapped looked lovely...but I knew there was more I had to say, more I had to give to the scene - a few images I had seen in my head that I needed to bring to life.

As we continued working around the ropes, I noticed the security guard start to round the bend we'd just come from where I knew he wouldn't be able to see us. If I didn't at least try to get within the ropes and closer to the pieces, I knew that I'd leave the park with regret over not being able to create the images I saw in my head that moved me the most... Besides, how many of our favorite art pieces have been made by breaking a rule or two? All I wanted to do was interact with the Olympic Park sculptures with reverance and respect, taking their art and letting them inspire me.

.

I told Skyclad I was going to just hop in and pose quickly, that I wouldn't feel like I did as much as I could have with Wandering Rocks if I didn't at least try to get closer to them and I'm so grateful they agreed. "I'll just keep hitting the shutter button", they said, so that whatever happened, we got at least a couple of the images I wanted to make the most. And here, my pre-photo day visions came in handy as I ran straight to the positions I knew I wanted to execute.

.

And while ultimately the situation was low stakes (truly, the worst that could've happened would be that we'd be asked to leave), I felt exhilarated - bravely taking the chance to create art the way I wanted to, engaging in artistic "debauchery" to create something that was meaningful. While I envisioned some of the photos where I ran through the pieces, they also were real moments of carefree liberation as I realized I was doing exactly what I wanted in that moment - a feeling I don't feel I experience often. In those moments I was right where I wanted to be doing exactly what I wanted to.

[architectuul]

Charlotte von Moos (ed.): Miami In The 1980s

Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther und Franz König, Köln, 2022

First things first: that book is cool. The graphic design, in mint green and dusty pink is clearly an homage to its subject – the architecture from postmodern Miami. But not only it respects on glossy paper the colour code of an era and style, it’s full of new drawings (plans and façades) that allow us to understand buildings we knew as images in depth and to consider their architectural qualities. As it must be the book starts with screenshots from the main title of the TV-Series Miami Vice (1984-89) that reminds us that – for the first time in history – architecture had become a real protagonist in storytelling. Remember: two undercover cops dressed in Hugo Boss suits hang around Miami driving a white Ferrari Testarossa, they pretend to be drug dealers to catch the bad guys enjoying the sun of Florida. This criminal society meets and lives in houses that fit their lifestyle and the neo-modern villas from Arquitectonica are not only the decor of their life – they tell us about the taste, the habits and the dangers from those people. Michael Mann was the creator and executive producer from that series and if you’ve seen any other of his films you’ll know one thing: he loves the visual power of architecture and understands the role it can play in storytelling (so was Alfred Hitchcock ‘s review).

Many of us know the images from Miami Vice and if, like me, you were born in the early 1970s and watched too much TV – you looked at them as an adolescent and became an architect because of them. I did. But the genius of the book is to reveal us the context, the ideas and concepts that were around at that time and who brought a generation of architects to the invention of a very unique and local style. For sure, as post-moderns, they wanted to play with history, to mix Adolf Loos or Le Corbusier with ornamented porticos à la Aldo Rossi (the buildings of Duany Plater-Zyberk are a perfect example from this approach). But one should not forget that the iconic Spear House (1976-78) was the child of a project developed by Laurinda Spear and Remment (not yet) Rem Koolhaas in 1974, at the peak of his obsessions with Surrealism, Constructivism and the Berlin Wall. Last but not least, they all understood the power of colour and refused the dogmatic boredom of white plaster. The essay from Charlotte von Moos unfolds all those references, brings unknown archives to life and fascinates with its enthusiasm. The whole book makes it clear: those buildings were not just a set for TV-series but true architecture with its successes and mistakes.

The in-depth essay is followed by short introductions with archival or new photographs (and drawings) of 19 projects made my S.O.M, Philip Johnson & John Burgee, Mateu Architecture, Duany Plater-Zyberk, Isamu Noguchi and – of course – Arquitectonica. It’s like eating a pistachio, raspberry, mint and vanilla ice cream: you know you shouldn’t like it and that it’s gonna make you sick, but you cannot stop. Still, and that’s probably the goal of the book: many of those buildings are now in danger – the taste of the inhabitants has changed, downtown Miami craves for densification and the constructions are too young to become historical monuments (think about the IBA87 in Berlin). A whole visual chapter is allocated to the demolition of The Babylon (1981) by Arquitectonica, and alerts us that it might be our last chance to visit those buildings believing we are undercover cops driving a white Ferrari.

Now comes a spoiler, like in movies, but I’m gonna tell you how the book ends (so stop reading here if you don’t want to know)… The final spreads are dedicated to fashion shoots that were done in the Spear House for GQ or Vogue. The legs of a lady in a bikini enjoy the swimming pool, a young man in pyjama stares into our eyes, other people sunbath on the terrace or jump into the water. They pose with their perfectly clean clothes and rather impossible haircuts (too much hairspray involved, much too much – but that’s the 1980s). What becomes clear, looking at those images, is that architecture – here, is more than a decor. It’s a part of a lifestyle that includes nice cars, expensive watches and shiny garments, making the American dream a kitsch and unattainable Gesamtkunstwerk. A total work of art.

- Thibaut de Ruyter

[jackylans]

Test 3 Dream Scence Practice (07~08)

Inspired by Tawanwad Wanavit and Sandy Skoglund, I want to explore using light as a visual representation of emotions. For instance, when feeling stressed or negative, the light's color can shift towards cooler tones, or its path can become chaotic, symbolizing a cluttered mind and internal oppression. Conversely, when feeling motivated or positive, the light's color can shift towards warmer tones, or its path can become orderly and brighter, representing inner strength and a positive, sunny disposition.

Based on this theory, I plan to divide the project into two separate shoots (with two types of locations) to represent positive and negative emotions, corresponding to the first and second halves of the story, respectively. In the 3.0 test shoot, I focused on the visual expression of "positive emotions" in the latter half of the story. In Tawanwad Wanavit's photos, the subjects are often illuminated to a state of complete highlight by the flash, which in turn reflects off the subject to subtly light up the surrounding environment. This visual approach is ideal for depicting the protagonist's inner state after being healed by positive emotions or love in a natural setting, as if they are filled with love and positive energy, becoming a light source themselves and illuminating the surrounding environment and those affected by negative energy.

First, we need a flash and a tripod. After researching camera stores in Auckland, I found a cost-effective flash, the "Godox V350C," and a Manfrotto Befree series tripod.

The shooting location is selected at the back door area of the AUT WM building. This location is close to the studio, allowing me to import photos into the computer for immediate review and adjust the shooting parameters (such as the flash angle, brightness, and camera settings) accordingly. Additionally, compared to outdoor environments, the back door area has more grey concrete walls that can reflect the flash, ensuring the photos don't turn out too dark.

During the shoot, I connected the flash to the camera and mounted both on the tripod. The shutter speed was 1/125 seconds, with a 5-second interval between shots, capturing about 7 photos per set. With this setup, I have enough time after pressing the shutter to move into different positions or poses, while the flash has time to recharge (especially at full power mode). I also prepared a white long coat to act as a simple "reflector," allowing the flash to illuminate my entire body, achieving a final image with the subject in highlight and the background properly exposed.

Through testing, I found that the camera height needs to be at the same level as, or even lower than, the subject to avoid shadows on the subject's back. My aim is for the protagonist to become a light source that influences the surroundings. A self-illuminating object or person should not have one-sided shadows, while illuminated objects will have varying degrees of shadow. High-angle shots create unwanted shadows on the subject's back, so shooting at the same or a lower angle than the subject helps make shadows "disappear" visually while keeping the subject well-lit. Additionally, the subject should not be too close to the background wall. Maintaining a sufficient distance allows shadows to disperse more effectively, creating a visual "disappearance" effect.

[ygg-yiggles]

Old Art: Inktober 2022, part 1

I have participated in Inktober since 2019, on Twitter up until now. To breathe some life into my blog here, I'll post my work from past years over the next few days, along with my thoughts and explanations where relevant, using the more long-form format of tumblr to its advantage. Please mind this small content warning before you continue reading: Some of what I drew for this quite odd and creepy, and in at least one case (day 14), arguably gory. Keep this in mind as you read and view the art.

Day 1: Gargoyle This one was fun. I did a poor job of making it actually look like it was perched on the wall and the wall itself was a pain, ultimately resulting in something kind of halfassed and iffy looking, but still, I had fun with it, and I think the gaping red maw looks pretty decent, all things considered. I used a grey ink--if I recall, it was Noodler's Lexington Gray--for this one, though only sparingly.

Day 2: Scurry Some of the anatomy is screwy here, in particular the catgirl's hands are all kinds of gnarly in ways I didn't intend. Ink is unforgiving. These aren't really meant to be any characters in particular, but I was probably influenced a little by Nazrin from Touhou Project and undeniably heavily inspired by Maekawa Miku from The Idolm@ster Cinderella Girls. You might immediately notice two things about this image: firstly that it is clearly more true to the color of the paper and secondly that the left edge curves away, gets blurry, and has a bit of a shadow. Day 1's drawing was simply captured by my phone camera, but I used my scanner for this one. That took time to set up (I have a bad habit of putting things on top of the machine and I have to reposition the whole thing because the USB-B cable I have is too short), so I didn't always use it. There's another scanner now, though, which I can use much more easily.

Day 3: Bat GAHHH why did I go right back to the phone camera? Oh well. The anatomy here is really poor especially around the legs, but I tried to be a little more dynamic with the pose than I usually would be. Evidently, I didn't properly plan this from the beginning, since the torso is on a somewhat different perspective plane than it should be. Oh well, not everything works out as you'd want it.

Day 4: Scallop I love drawing spooky little creatures. Here, we see a sea scallop, but with spindly arms and legs. This is only slightly more monstrous than what live sea scallops actually look like. Did you know they have like 200 eyes, all lined up in a row along the edge of the "mouth"? Crazy. There's also a moray eel in entirely imaginary colors here. It seems about as freaked out by the scallop creature as is appropriate.

Day 5: Flame Dragon girl! I should really put this under the scanner someday. Overall I mostly like how this turned out, though I clearly had no clue what to do with the breasts. Probably should have grabbed some references.

Day 6: Bouquet This time, the gnarly fingers were absolutely intentional. Here we see an elder vampire or something, perhaps some other kind of aged fantasy man, enjoying several flowers. I think they were based upon a couple specific real flowers, but I can't quite recall exactly what they were.

Day 7: Trip This is one I'm really glad I went through the trouble to use the scanner for. There are certainly things that could have been improved, but overall, I'm still quite proud of this one. Two girls on a road trip in an Autobianchi Bianchina, stopped on the side of the road for... I dunno, looking at the scenery, I guess. I don't know if that car was ever sold in this color, but it's what color I'd want one in.

Day 8: Match Matching outfit elves. The anatomy and basic geometry of this one was completely unsalvageable by the time I realized what was going on. Alas, at least it was properly scanned.

Day 9: Nest Sometimes you go into a drawing with an image in your head that's too complex to hold for long and when you zoom in in your mind to look at the details, you lose it. Ultimately, though, when I look at it now, that worked out better than if I had faithfully rendered every piece of trash in the garbage heap that this giant, mechanical bird-thing has built. Seriously, this looks way better than I remember it looking. I also used the grey ink here again, I think to much better effect than with the gargoyle.

Day 10: Crabby Crabby child, crab hat, "Feelin' Crabulous!" shirts. Not much more to say other than wow that mom character looks weird. I think I did a pretty decent job of depicting a child in the middle of a tantrum over god-knows-what here.

Day 11: Eagle A man and his concerningly large eagle. If I recall, this was meant to depict a Haast's eagle, an extinct species from what is now New Zealand. Or at the very least it was mostly inspired by that. In other words, it's completely nonsensical for a man in a heavy coat, fur hat, and snow goggles to have one as his companion, but somehow it just felt right. I used a bunch of different colors of brown micron and even fountain pen ink for this, and I think the effect turned out well.

Day 12: Forget Creepy creatures what take your brain out and make you forget things. The head being comically outsized compared to the rest of the body was actually intentional here--I felt the strange proportions would further bring focus to the point of the action and also just make the whole scene feel even weirder.

Day 13: Kind More weirdo creatures. I thought it'd be fun to depict kindness between alien things rather than more easily relatable humans or animals. This color palette also happens to be enjoyable to me. This is another one featuring some fountain pen inks, but I can't recall what they were.

Day 14: Empty Yeah, this one is pretty gross and freaky. Sorry about that. But hey, that was the idea. Mission accomplished, right? If I remember correctly, this one included Diamine Oxblood ink, to get that fleshy cavern look.

Day 15: Armadillo Yep, it's Tarkus. As in, the album by Emerson, Lake & Palmer. I guess you could consider this a gijinka? The nameplate thing bearing the day number and prompt is based on the colors of the ground in the album art.

..And that's it for now. I'll do days 16-31 tomorrow or the next day, depending on how much I can think of to write about those. If you made it this far, thanks for reading and for looking at my art.

[to-call-your-own]

I have been very restrained on the internet lately, and I suppose that's a good thing. But sometimes I feel like I could be a tad more open, and I figured this sort of blog is the exact place I could allow myself to talk. It probably wouldn't matter anyway, right?

I have began collecting dolls earlier this year. My infatuation began with the L.O.L. O.M.G. Fierce doll, and since then I've accumulated a fair share of L.O.L. dolls. Unfortunately, I had to put them back in their boxes due to the lack of display area and the extreme abundance of dust in my home. I loved their design, though, I still do. I used to sit down in front of them and just admire the designer's work for a couple of minutes. The way their clothes match their accessories, their physique, hair and makeup, and the way the designers thought of the fabric and the colors, oh man... I just sort of view them as a work of art. A complete image that I don't want to tinker with, as it is already perfect.

After that I bought an Aliexpress Blythe doll, and then almost lost my mind trying to dress her up as soon as possible, and when the clothes finally came, I changed her eyelashes and eyechips, and that was it. I still eyed the custom Blythe dolls longingly, and Pullip dolls, but I wasn't planning on buying any more, not really. I did want to start making my own OOAKs, though, so I was looking for super-cheap, used Monster High and Ever After High dolls, but I viewed them only as the material. Eventually I've settled on the thought that I wanted to repaint a male Monster High doll, and decided to start with Garrott, as he's caught my eye the most. And at some point I got extremely lucky and saw a Garrott doll being sold for only 6 dollars or so (500 rubles), and I managed to buy him. And that's when this new stage has begun, the very one that prompted me to start this blog.

I'll write about this Garrott doll in details later, but as of now I'm going to describe the situation in general terms. The thing is, this doll is not perfect. It is objectively flawed. His faceup is a little smudged in places, his lips are wiped off, his hair is cut, he lacks most of his accessories and clothes, but... after I washed him and dressed him in an oversized "Blythe" sweater, I had a hard time putting him down. There's a strange charm about him, and eventually I found myself not wanting to alter him. Dispite him being flawed, he looked surprisingly good – at least in my opinion, and I couldn't bring myself to shatter this fragile equilibrium. Because I would, I knew I would. And this is how it all started.

I also really enjoy looking at doll photos, not sure why, but I do. The photos don't even have to be good, to be honest, I just really like looking at them. I like seeing how people pose their dolls, how they choose the lighting, the clothes, the setting/background. I especially like it when there's some sort of story behind the pictures. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a lot of doll photography on Tumblr, which I find odd, if not sad, so I thought, maybe I could also try to take some photos. Maybe I could even learn photography in the process. So I tried taking pictures of my Garrott, and I got really caught up in that. Sometimes I get caught up in things, and they drive me up the wall, and then I temporarily lose my mind. So here I am now, writing a Tumblr post for a doll blog, with a Heath Burns doll on its way. I was thinking, and thinking, and thinking, and I maybe I want to not only take pictures of my dolls, but to attribute some sort of story to them. I've seen it being done, and it reminds me of the way I used to play with my toys as a child. Maybe I could do that again, but differently. Maybe I have never stopped doing that in the first place. All in all, writing fan fiction is a lot like playing with dolls, in my mind.

So I thought, maybe I could set up my own doll house in a form of a Tumblr blog. So, a doll house and a doll theatre, then. Wouldn't be that bad. Could give me a lot of room to talk. About stuff.

So. To sum it all up. As for Monster High dolls, I already have this godlike shabby Garrott, and I am impatiently waiting for Heath. I am also looking for a well-played Lagoona, it has to be the same brand of off-handedly charming as Garrott, and I am being very obsessive about it. You could say that I am waiting for her.

There's a lot of things I have to be patient about. I won't tag this post, it's just an introduction of sorts, and I want to elaborate on my idea further, as well as post some photos of Garrott.

[cjselbybooks]

WIP Wednesday

A high-stakes scene between Espen and Cecily’s brother, Claude

—————————————————————————————–  

         With everyone wearing masks, it was difficult to try and pick out my brother and brother-in-law, but I was determined to try and get a break from the ballroom. I had just slipped into an empty corridor when I felt like I was being watched.

         I let the door fall shut behind me and took a tentative step towards one of the sitting rooms where I hoped to find Bjorn and Rickard.

         “I thought we’d never get the chance to talk privately.” I tensed- my heart flying up into my throat- as out of the shadowed corridor stepped a somewhat familiar figure. “You’re either surrounded by family or hiding in my sister’s skirts.” The dark, almost skeletal mask moved to reveal Prince Claude’s face underneath it.

         “My lord,” I said and I felt a prickle of something like fear run down my spine. The way that he moved closer, the way he was watching me, all of it reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

         “There’s no need to stand on ceremony, now is there? Not since you’re already so familiar with my sister’s husband.” The warm that should have been present in his brown eyes was absent, leaving them flat and cold. I started to open my mouth, but he held up a hand. “Don’t deny it. We’re both reasonably intelligent men, and you wouldn’t want to insult me, would you?” I clenched my jaw shut tightly. His grin was infuriatingly smug. “Good.

         “You’re going to break off whatever… arrangement,” he spat the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth, “you have with the King. You will do so quietly and you will do it immediately. Am I understood?”

         “And what authority do you have to dictate to me?” I snapped back, anger overtaking any good sense I had. I could feel the way my whole body was trembling with a horrible cocktail of fury and embarrassment and the last vestiges of shame.

         Claude let out an incredulous laugh. “Let me pose another question. What would your family think of your little affair? I can’t imagine your most noble father would approve. His son, the king’s paramour?” Claude clicked his tongue and I felt a wash of nausea prickle at the back of my neck. “Imagine the shame.”

         I swallowed down the lump in my throat that the image of my father’s disapproving face conjured. “And what would that accomplish? Even if Silas and I weren’t together- that doesn’t change anything. He’s never going to love her.”

         Before I even knew what was happening, Claude had closed the gap between us and gotten a fistful of my doublet. I grappled against his hold desperately as he backed me up against the wall.

         “What’s going on here?”

         Both of our heads snapped in the direction of the voice. I felt some of the tension leave my body to see Rickard standing in one of the doorways I’d been about to investigate.

         “Espen?” Rickard’s brow furrowed as he looked between the two of us, especially since Claude still had his hands tangled in the collar of my doublet.

         “A misunderstanding,” I said firmly and turned my eyes to the cold depths of Claude’s. No matter his issue with me, I wouldn’t stand for a scene being made at the Queen Mother’s memorial. His eyes flicked over my face before he eased his grip. I brushed it off as viciously as I dared before I stepped over to Rickard. “Laila was looking for you. Is Bjorn with you?” I asked, trying to move from the unnerving moment that had just played out.