#inside the sistine chapel???

[verifiablebot]

i may not have a wikipedia page for any of my known ancestors but i AM related to the preacher in baton rouge that was arrested for having church services during covid lockdowns and being generally unhinged ✌

[mxwhore]

i gotta say that i really love your art, and you could produce scribbly sketches and i’d be hype as fuck about just seeing more of your art. i know it’s easier said than done, but don’t be too harsh on yourself/your art. it’s always great!

tank u :(

[cannibalistic-vampirefag]

my body is a temple and homie was I raised catholic

[diazsdimples]

After the lightning, Buck downloads just about every weather app he can find. He doesn’t tell anyone - because he knows they’d immediately become concerned - he’s terrified of thunderstorms. If it’s forecast to be rainy, he’ll check, double check, and triple check that it’s only rain, and not a storm too. What he doesn’t know, is Eddie’s done the same thing.

The first storm happens a couple of months after Buck goes back to work, and he's ready for it. It's one of their nights off, so he gathers all the blankets in the loft, makes himself a little nest with his laptop, a hot water bottle, and some noise canceling headphones and he hunkers down for the night. He's just squeezed his eyes shut after the first flash of lightning when his phone rings. It's Eddie. Initially he doesn't want to answer, because he doesn't want to have anyone asking him how he is right now, but he also knows Eddie will just keep on ringing until he picks up. So he does.

Not once during that call does Eddie ask how Buck is. He immediately lauches into a long tale about Christopher's new crush, which turns into a story about the main characters on the telenovela he watches and "how the fuck have they not figure out they're in love yet", and finally they end up debating the pros and cons of having a smart fridge that shows you what's inside without having to open the door. Buck hangs up feeling a little confused, wondering what the occasion was for such a call, but the storm has passed and he didn't have a panic attack.

The next storm is in the dead of winter and Buck has been watching it brew for days, his anxiety mounting as it builds. He's planning on doing the same as last time, but then Eddie invites him over for dinner. It's not their usual night, and Chris is away with his grandparents in Texas, so Buck is a little confused but he says yes nonetheless. He's looking forward to some time with Eddie - the two of them have been toeing the line between friends and something more ever since the lightning, with long lingering touches and late night phone calls. When he gets there, Eddie has ordered them pizza, there's a case of beers on the coffee table, blankets on the couch, and a new sound system that looks like it could blow the windows out of the Sistine Chapel if given half a chance.

They have a really nice evening and Buck manages to ignore the way the clouds are churning outside, how the wind picks up and rain begins to splatter against the windowpanes. He's comfortable on the couch, with Eddie a warm line against his side from how closely they're pushed together. When the room lights up from the first strike of lightning, Buck jumps. He looks around wildly, just barely fighting the urge to clap his hands over his ears as the thunder booms. Eddie looks up from their movie, and turns up the sound on the TV until the thunder is inaudible. He places a hand on either one of Buck's shoulders and gently guides him down until he's settled against Eddie's chest. Eddie's arms wrap around Buck, holding him from behind and Buck can feel the fear slowly receeding.

"It's okay," Eddie whispers in his ear. "I've got you. You're safe."

The storm rages outside, but Buck doesn't panic. He's safe, in Eddie's arms, and though he might jump and his breathing might speed up every time there's a flash, Eddie strokes his arms and pets his hair and finally, almost nervously presses a kiss to Buck's forehead.

"Is- is this okay?" he asks Buck, so quietly that if it weren't for the fact that his lips were brushing Buck's ear, Buck wouldn't have heard it.

"Yeah," Buck replies, burrowing closer into Eddie's chest as his heart blooms with love, the warmth spreading down to his toes. "I'm safe."

[cherry-leclerc]

red diamond ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, arthistory!reader

word count: 2.8k

The story of when you and Carlos met and how the mutual connection of art takes you two on a pleasing journey that will leave you realizing a thing or two.

req!... i did a bit of touch ups from the request i got but i hope that anon doesn't mind AHH. hope you guys like it :)

“No, no, no! Ritorno! Per favore!” 

Gasping for air, you curl over as you groan in frustration. Punching your bag, you watch lamely as the cab drives away. It was your own fault - you had overslept - but you seriously thought you would make it on time. You moved to Italy a few months ago to study Art History in one of the most prestigious universities. But along with that, there were lots of things being asked from you; volunteering in museums, endless essays, and ridiculous research that even had you second guessing your choices. 

“Stai bene?” 

Spinning around, you make eye contact with a tall man who secretly made your blood run cold. You shiver as you nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would just leave you alone. But he doesn’t budge, he only digs a single hand into his pocket. Your stomach drops.

“Am I about to get mugged?”

“What?” 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you point out his all black outfit and how creepily he kept his hand hidden from plain sight. Bright pink colors his cheeks as he instantly raises his arms up in defense. God no! Oh sh- I’m sorry, he squeaks as he winces. You let out a breath of relief as you rub your arms to help keep warm. 

“Do I look like a thief or something?”

Scanning the empty road, you squint as you try your best to find another ride. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea you’ve had to go to the Sistine Chapel at night. “Or something.” He softly laughs. Shimming out of his sweater, he shyly hands it over. “That’s very nice of you, but it’s okay. You’ll get cold.”

“I won’t. Plus, you’re shivering so much that I can hear your teeth chattering. Seriously, take it.” Instead of telling him no, you decide against it since you were two seconds away from getting frostbite. Grazie, you whisper as you tug the sweater over your head. He looks away as soon as your arms swing up and allows him to get a good glimpse of your white lingerie. “What are you doing out alone so late at night?”

Warming your hands deep inside the hoodies pockets, you respond, “I was trying to get a lift to the museum. I have to take some notes for a lecture I have tomorrow morning. I was supposed to go a whole lot earlier, but my nap was longer than I had intended.” He glances at you for a moment before jingling his keys up. You raise a brow.

“Can’t reassure you that the museum will still be open at a time like this, but I could offer you a ride back home.”

Agreeing turned out to be the best thing you could have ever done. Turns out Carlos drove for a living - whatever that means; he had been suspiciously blunt with it - but long before, he had actually studied Art History himself back in Spain. Ever so kindly, he had helped you research about The Creation of Adam. You were extremely impressed when he kept naming facts from the top of his head.

Shutting your notebook, you sheepishly shake your head. “You just saved me from embarrassment in front of my professor. She could be a bit mean when we don’t get our stuff done. Typical Italians.”

“Not all Italians are like that.”

“Sure.” Pause. “But she is.” He nods as he points towards your main entrance. Clapping your hands, you leap up from your couch. “Thanks again for all the help. I really appreciate it. I also appreciate that you didn’t turn out to be some murderer.” He squints his eyes teasingly.

“Thief or murderer, which one is it?” 

“Preferably neither.” You open the door slowly as he steps out. “See you around, Carlos.”

“Of course.”

-

A few weeks later, you’re in a complete hurry. You had overslept, again, and it was looking as if you weren’t going to make it to class on time. You mumble a line of curses at the clear image of Professor Clara lecturing you for the thousandth time. It didn’t help either the way your key got jammed at your quick attempt to lock the door. 

“For fucks sake-”

“Need help?”

“Merda!” You drop your coffee as you spin around with a hand over your stomach from the sudden shock. The familiar brunette cringes as he bends down to pick up your thermo. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He carefully takes your bag from your arm. “I just thought-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off as you share a tight lipped smile. “It’s nice to see you, but I don’t have time for this. I’m late as it is.”

“Typical Italians.”

Your mouth drops open as you snatch your things back from him. “For your information, I am not Italian. Also, what are you doing here?” He beams.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Straightening your posture, you chirp as you take him by the hand towards his car. “Me too. Can I have a ride?”

You knew he’d agree. What you didn’t know was how excited he was to be near your presence. From the moment he first saw you he felt a sort of attraction that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Yes, you were breathtakingly beautiful but there was something about your aura. Everything about you made him crave more. He felt so stupid that it took him this long to see you again.

“Sooo. What do you need?”

“Right.” Turning on his blinker, he quickly glances at the GPS. “Are you free later?”

“Way to make a girl feel special.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s just that there’s this painting…” When he notices your lost expression, he taps his finger desperately against the wheel. “Doni Tondo. Ever heard of it?” The mention has you buzzing as you nod excitedly. “Of course you do. Anyways, they’re holding an auction up for it. I need you.” 

“You do know I’m a broke college student who lives off of pizza and pasta, right? If you’re looking for money then I’m just going to let you down-”

“Money’s not the issue.” Flashy, you hiss as he smiles. “I have the money, but I need you. I need a date.” Why? He makes a left turn. “Do you know the meaning behind the painting?” You shake your head. “It depicts the importance of family. A healthy marriage.”

“I’m not following…”

The Spaniard becomes distressed as he sees you’re getting closer to your destination. He presses down on the brake a bit. “They want couples. Wealthy couples. Someone who they know that if they buy this piece of art then it’s going to be in good hands. That it’s going to continue serving its purpose.” He turns to you as he cocks his head a bit. “I need it as a birthday present for my mother. She’s been wanting it for ages and…Please.”

Putting the car in park right in front of the university entrance, he hopes to find an answer in your face as you keep it blank. Instead, you gather your things as you step out of his car. A delicate hand waves for him to roll the shiny window down.

“Pick me up at 8.”

-

“This is coconuts! I’ve never been inside of the Uffizi Gallery,” you whisper-shout as you cling onto his arm. He smiles down at you as he leads you to the small group of potential buyers. There were six in total - making it more intimate and scary. You were scared. His warm hand makes its way to cradle your face as he leans down to kiss your temple. You physically melt.

“It only costs a couple of euros.”

“You’re killing the vibe,” you groan as you pinch his cheek. He shrugs as he hushes you. Enzo, the coordinator, does a quick introduction with a cheerful voice. Everyone else seems to be listening just to listen, but you and Carlos were picking up on all of it like a sponge. “He’s a genius.” You stare in awe. The brunette stifles a laugh. He’s not the one who created these paintings, you know that, right? You throw a deadpanned glare. “You’re killing it,” you remind him. He pokes his tongue out.

“Why don’t we get started, shall we?” 

The rich are animals - you come up with that conclusion quick enough. The sum that flies past their lips has you gawking as you hide behind the Spaniards tall figure. €50,000, a man yells with a blonde clinging onto his arm with a wide grin. You choke. 

“Anyone willing to go for more than €50,000?”

“€100,000.”

Spinning your head to face Carlos, you have to stop yourself from calling it off. It wasn’t like it was your money anyways. Mrs. BotchedUpBoobsButThinksItsNormal grows red as she whispers to the bald man. He nods. €150,000! 

“€240,000.”

“What?” Distangling your arm from his, you freeze as you feel your fake ring fly off your ring finger. Carlos had slipped in on you - he wore a matching one - as a way to make you both look more of a real couple. A nervous laugh bubbles out of you as you clumsily run over to where it lies. “My apologies!” Enzo bends down before handing it to you. Mio Dio! What a diamond! Red and rare!

Walking over to you both, Carlos takes it from him as he slips it back onto your hand. “Good eye.” But Enzo is basically drooling as he takes your hand to analyze it. 

“I’ve never seen one so up close and personal! Very exquisite! You must feel extremely lucky, tesoro!” 

“Very,” you cheer as you pull your hand away. “How about we get back to it? Excuse my interruption-”

“So, where did he propose?”

“Sistine Chapel.”

Your cheeks burn up from his words. That was where you were trying to get to the first night you two met. To take notes of Michelangelo’s, The Creation of Adam. Much like now, you two were on a mission to retreat Michelangelo's, Doni Tondo. Enzo swoons as he shakes the Spaniards hand.

“Stravagante! What a love story! I could tell - feel - the chemistry between you two. It’s real.”

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Not used to getting such high compliments from someone like you!” Carlos cuts you off as he tugs you closer, large hand laying over your hip. You shiver. He points to the painting. “What do you say?”

“Sold to Mr. and Mrs. Sainz!”

-

A whole crew follows in black SUV’s as they carry the painting to Carlos’s home, after Enzo had insisted it should be done that same day. Extending your hand out, you admire the ring. “You said it was fake.”

“Did I? I must have forgotten.”

Turning your body to face him, you place a hand on his upper thigh. His body stiffens as he clenches his jaw and squeezes his hands tight against the steering wheel. You let out a cough as you shyly pull away. 

“You should have told me. I would have been more careful. Especially since it belongs to your mother.”

“Except it doesn’t anymore.”

Your brows pull in together as your bottom lip starts to wobble. “Did she die?” Taking in your glossy eyes, he shakes his head as he laughs. 

“She’s fine.” He doesn’t say much after that as he pulls into a fancy driveway. Jesus, you squeal. He unclicks your seat belt. “My parents are over for the holidays. They’re taking the painting with them when they leave back to Spain. Come meet them.”

You must be in some sort of trance because you let him take you by your hand as he leads you towards the mansion. You wonder why, but when you remember there’s people still around with the painting, you wrap your fingers tighter against his.

“Perfect. Grazie.” The 29 year old admires as he takes a step back to take in the painting. It was gorgeous. You were starting to get jealous that it belonged to someone else. The group of men share a quick exchange of goodbyes before scurrying out the door. Walking back to you, he taps his shoe against your heel. “What do you think?” You scrunch your nose.

“Meh.”

He spins to face you. “You’re crazy. It’s beautiful.” He looks at you as you stare up at the wall where Doni Tondo hangs. He shudders. Tickling your waist he says, “Admit it. Say you love it.” You shake your head as you giggle. I’ve seen better. He gapes. “Liar!”

“I’m not lying.”

He books it to you as you squeal and try to not trip over your dress as you run away. Grabbing you by the waist, he spins you. Admit it! “No,” you wheeze as you grow dizzy and yet don’t want the moment to end. You pull on his bow that matches with the rest of his expensive tux. “I’m going to throw up if you don’t let go!”

“¿Estamos interrumpiendo?” 

Pushing Carlos off harshly, the ring flies off your finger for the second time that night. You swallow a curse as you look up to an older couple. They smile fondly. Though you haven't met them before, you are able to quickly identify them as the Spaniards parents. Blood rushes to your face. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You take a step towards them as you extend your hand. They both shake it as they bring you in for a hug. You let out a small umph. Once they pull away, you pick up the ring from the floor. “I am so sorry about dropping your ring! I know it belongs to you. Carlos told me it was fake and if I had known, then I wouldn’t have flung my hand-”

“Don’t you worry, cariño - it doesn’t belong to me anymore.” Told you, Carlos interrupts. You scowl at him before handing it back to Reyes. She shakes her head as she covers your hands with hers. “Keep it.”

“But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.” You twirl around as you hand it to Carlos. “Somebody take it, please.” He stares back blankly and you could tell he’s about to say the same thing, but his mother’s words make him take it from you. It’s okay, Carlos. Hesitantly, he obeys. You let out a breath of relief. 

Forcing himself to shake off the bitter feeling, he points up at the painting. “Lo hice. ¿Les gusta?” Reyes and Carlos Sr. nod as they hug each other. Nos encanta. She directs her attention back to you.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” 

And it was. It was the true depiction of a family. Carlos frowns. “You said it was okay.” Discreetly, you pinch his hip. He yelps. 

“I was only joking, you should know that.” A beat. “I think it's one of the prettiest paintings I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I’m so jealous that you two get to keep it,” you joke as they laugh. Carlos Sr. wags his finger.

“It’s not ours.” What? You and Carlos slump as you look at each other with as much confusion as shock. The older couple laughs. “It was never going to be ours, but we needed a good enough reason for Carlos to pull the trigger. He’s been talking about this painting for as long as we can remember. Isn’t that right?” Reyes nods.

“I knew that if I said I wanted it then he would get it. Either way, if he didn’t buy it then we would have bought it for him.” She walks up closer to you both. “This painting is not just a pretty sight - it’s also the raw interpretation of love. When two people fall in love, things become so crystal clear that it almost has you wondering if you’ve lost your mind. You start to learn that a family is one of the most important things and what better way than to form that with your other half. Marriage is a sacred thing - and sure, it's scary - but it’s very well worth it. You’ll see.”

Her words make your stomach twist as you catch Carlos’ reaction through your peripheral vision. It sort of looked as if he was having some sort of epiphany as he nodded attentively at his parents. For some odd reason, the image of him starting a family of his own with some random woman makes your head hurt. 

“ A few adjustments may be needed, but I have a feeling this ring will find its way to the right girl. Don’t you think, Carlitos?”

Carlos’ eyes flicker to yours as you look back at him. The connection had always been there, but something felt different. Scarily secure. Neither of you were brave enough to ask if this was something you were both feeling. Not yet, at least.

“I think it will.”

[samuhelll]

sam’s office. his office is split into two parts: the waiting room outside and his office deep within the belly of the not-insurance office, not-laundromat.

the waiting room. immediately outside the building, plastered over the storefront windows, are painted-on-or-stenciled ketchup-mustard letters. CROKER INSURANCE AGENCY. LIFE IN A JAM? GOTTA HAVE SAM.

inside smells vaguely of laundry detergent. there’s vaguely ecclesiastical music warbling from mysteriously unseen loudspeakers. there are too many dentist waiting-room chairs here than there ever are people, but that’s because sam’s generous. a water cooler sits off to the side. also: a perpetually sputtering keurig machine with a weave basket of k-cups.

something like a receptionist’s desk looms towards the left wall with an out-of-date noodle-spiral phone. does anyone even work here?

his office. sam’s shameless. sam’s tacky. walk through the front door, and in your face: cocoa herringbone floors with a velveteen runner cleaving up the room. an airport runway. at the end of this is a large walnut desk — think the headmaster of an english prep school — peppered with a plastic business card holder, brochures on grief, and a novelty thank-you-mug-turned-pencil-holder. behind that, a presidential half-oval wall lined with art that may or may not belong in the sistine chapel. impossibly tactless? sure. impressively audacious? absolutely. no arched ceiling, but he has wallpaper frescos.

where the half-oval turns into a straight wall on either side are fake, ornamental gates coated in 90s-faux-gold stickers. they don’t function.

a recliner sits closer to the door. this is off-limits. walmart framed photos artfully decorate each jewel-ficus wall, all of them featuring him with presumably happy clients, not too much, not too little. he has a bookshelf featuring texts in tens of different languages. can he read them?

also, it’s too dark in here. like he’s afraid if he installed more lights, you’ll start seeing all the cracks and tacky sheen. there’s a pocket to the right with a floral couch-armchair set and a nightstand.

a stained-glass window divides his office from the waiting room.

-

tl;dr: think of sa//ul good//man’s office, but instead of WE THE PEOPLE and lawyerly, it’s tastelessly phony religious.

[tododeku-or-bust]

regarding the ask I just sent. KAIROS. Your favourite thing about Kairos. I wanted to say Kai and I knew it wasn’t quite right.

My favorite thing about Kai is that he's a renaissance man, a truly iconic creative wonder, someone who could be paid to decorate the Sistine Chapel and style everyone in it and then sing heavenly auras to them....

And he doesn't want to be perceived. 🤣

Kairos is the definition of "do it because you love it, not because of other people". The young man will create an entire album with song and instruments, draw up sketches of fashion and sew patches on all his clothes, paint posters, and it'll all be contained in his room that showcases as his studio.

He LOVES inviting his parents and his friends inside to see what he's created. He has so much love for life and creation in his heart. He'll do anything for Phi. He'll even sing background for Calix if asked. But you canNOT ask him to do anything up front. "Do you want to sing in front of an audience" absolutely not. Please. He is Daft Punk, a masked, faceless entity. Do Not Perceive Me. "Oh I love your clothes Kai" 😳😳😳💀 (being Phi's bestie helps with him wearing his creations confidently)

He just wants to know why no one wants to talk to him about his passion for bugs. Who cares about the Grammy award winning songwriting, HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THE HORNED BEETLE-

OC Ask Game

[countriesgame]

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

If you have any fun fact about the Vatican, please tell us and I'll reblog it!

Be respectful in your comments. You can criticize a government without offending its people.

[leclsrc]

happy 1k! 38 with charles please <3

words unspoken – cl16

genre: fluff :), drabble, 1k celebration

38: whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss. title from this

“And it painted a mural all over our kitchen. You know, on the back wall, the green one where you accidentally chipped off a bit of the paint? Yeah. With its hind legs, and a paintbr—just a huge—just, like, angels, and babies. Honest to God, it was better than the Sistine Chapel.”

“So this was a Michelangelo deer?” Your boyfriend asks humorously. “That’s funny. I just had a turtle painting Picasso in my dream the other night. What are the chances?”

“You are such a little shit,” you say, but you’re both laughing. Another day of sharing your dreams to each other—a habit that started out of a way to start morning conversations and continued because of how much you enjoyed listening to each other talk. Your dreams varied, from nightmares, to those of the ordinary type, to the weirdest, most obscure kinds of figments you could possibly conjure.

Like this one. “But that’s not all. So this deer. It’s done painting this magnificent mural, right?” 

Charles nods, genuinely interested, adjusting his glasses as he pulls you onto his lap, wraps his arms around your waist. “So it finishes the painting, and it turns and faces me, and behind it, the painting totally melts off! Like, gone. Just—all of it—poof. The wall’s all green again. And I’m begging the deer to paint it back.”

“Oh, it betrayed you!” Your boyfriend clutches his chest. “How could it possibly?!”

You flick his cheek to shut him up. “And it repaints another painting over it, as per my request, but it’s a totally different painting. It’s not even a painting. It’s just your and my initials, tiny and accompanied by a little heart. No angels. Or babies. Or chapel ceilings.”

“And that’s it.” He fiddles with the sleeve of your knit sweater.

“That’s it.” You turn from the couch and toward the kitchen, where you can spot the wide, forest green wall you’d been talking about. “Just by the fridge. A heart and our letters.”

“Okay. As a professional dream interpreter,” he says, eliciting a scoff out of you, “I would say this means we need to do the same thing.”

“Paint the Sistine Chapel?” You joke, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Or adopt a deer?”

“I’ve got my own animal in the house already, thanks.” You roll your eyes at the offhand joke but allow him to continue. “We still have spare paint in the kitchen cabinet from when you begged me to repaint the bookshelf white.”

“Race you,” you whisper, clambering off his lap and bolting toward the cabinets.

Unfortunately, you’ve hit a caveat. You can’t find the tube or can of white paint for the life of you, so despite your headstart, you find yourself staring at your boyfriend’s proud, paintbrush-and-paint wielding grin. You roll your eyes, gesturing for him to start.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says. “How’d it look like?”

“Just let me—” you fight briefly over the paintbrush but eventually you’re drawing careful strokes of each initial, housing them inside a tiny heart. You place the brush down and step back, proud of your handiwork. “It’s just like the deer’s.”

He hugs you from behind, and you clutch his arms, both of you just staring at this new, human, lovely as it is imperfect, addition to your home. He leans down, stops right as your lips brush together, then whispers delicately, “I love you.”

You kiss him back, smiling. When he pulls away, you poke his nose. “I love you, too.”

—

“So it’s an extra 40 euros to get the green color matched and have that splotch painted over,” the super says boredly. 

You stare at the white. A “splotch,” he’d called it.

You wonder how many times you’ve called something a splotch, garbage, irrelevant, when in truth it meant so much more to a total stranger. You want to turn to the super, say, coolly, casually, “Oh, my ex-fiancé and I drew that a couple years ago, so it’s not a splotch, you son of a bitch.” But you’ve no time for deep thinking or mapping out possibilities. You need to empty the place by today.

“Yeah, just go ahead and add it to the charge,” you say politely. “I forgot what that splotch was all about, actually.”

[subzeroparade]

Hello! I really liked the clothes you designed for Laurence in the last artwork. I was wondering if it's just an alternative design to the usual one or if it's how you'll draw him from now on. Is it maybe something he wore before he started wearing the choir clothes?

Thank you anon (・‧̫・) Also you made the mistake of asking me about fashion, so - *inhales*

I’ve drawn Laurence in version(s) of the Choir garb before (you'll notice I change his sleeves a lot lol), but I normally almost never draw characters in the same outfits all the time, even if they are canon - just by virtue of being bored of it, and wanting to invent. 

The one you’re referencing was early Church, in my timeline - there’s two similar ones that I’ve more or less described in fic that are simpler, and closer to typically clerical/in-game Church garb. One of the first scenes in The Feast We Were Promised (which deals mostly with early Church timeline) is Laurence changing from the weighty, jewelled chasuble he wears in the context of ministration/communion in the Grand Cathedral into a modest black cassock to return to the Chapel of the Good Chalice down in the poorer quarters of old Yharnam. There is a certain canny strategy for the Church to remain humble in what they wear, if only to imply a sort of modesty and separation from the main religious powers of the time - there’s an established church, in this timeline, with all its pomp and splendour (because sects don’t just spring up in a religious vacuum).

I think that changes with the founding of the Choir, and the domination of the Healing Church as the main religious organisation over time, consolidating its power on the reputation of the blood. I think the Choir garb feels like a kind of mix between clerical clothes and Byrgenwerth-style robes (this should not be surprising - Willem’s imagery in his chair is very papal). This reflects the Church’s eventual takeover of Byrgenwerth, and how the Choir is established - which is to say an "order", or faction of the Church only in name, but solely focused on using the Church’s resources to attain ascension/communion. I like to imagine that Laurence would wear a different variation of the Choir garb at the height of his power, to distinguish himself - incorporating some of these more traditional liturgical symbols, since he retains the title of vicar. 

On the other side of the Church’s heyday, I think the more things get out of hand, the more ostentatious their dress - a sort of visual power, if you will, that negates what is happening in the streets with the coming scourge. A veneer of material splendour to mask the reality - a show of control, and mastery, even as the Church is impotent in the face of what's happening. In that sense I’d imagine Laurence wearing really ornate chasubles, or the kind of stunning cope that Lenny wears (minus the hat) in the Sistine Chapel scene in The Young Pope (which I am a big fan of). To bring it back to your first question, that white and black ensemble is a play on both real ecclesiastical garb but also specifically Lenny’s wardrobe, and his countenance when he wears it. (The costume designer, Carlo Poggioli, did a spectacular job working from the existing pieces in the Vatican museum). The red shoes in that final design above are a bit of a joke - the pope actually wears red shoes in real life, but the version on set are Louboutins and were nicknamed by Poggioli “the Ferraris” (extra inside joke - my Laurence has partly Corsican roots for obvious parallels with another historical tyrant).  

As for Ludwig, I almost always give him a different outfit - even in plainclothes - but I like the idea that he only starts wearing that pseudo-Executioner’s garb after the Cainhurst massacre (in my timeline, anyway). I always try to add a little element of armour to his clothing and to distinguish him from both the clergy and other Church-affiliated folk, be they Prospectors or Hunters. Beyond actual historical sources, I’m obsessed with Jany Temime’s work in House of the Dragon, and so you’ll find traces of the Kingsguard armour in Ludwig’s overall look, but without making it too medieval. 

I also have a headcanon (developed alongside some mutuals) that the blindfold part of the Choir cap is a very late introduction, during the scourge. In my work Laurence’s disdain for Willem’s dumbfuck pope hat is evident, and so there’s none of that shutting-your-eyes-to-the-world stuff - until most everyone’s eyes, including his, start to change by way of the scourge. 

Anyway tldr I like playing dress-up with them. 

[flagellant]

I’ve been struggling a bit. I find spirituality very fulfilling and important. I also have a lot of religious trauma. I don’t think it’s just in any way to go around telling people their religions are “wrong”. But the religious majority here in the USA wants me dead for several reasons

How do you like… square the circle on respecting religions, even appreciating them, while also feeling very critical of a lot of the religious institutions you interact with and have around you.

How to not be an asshole but also not tolerate a lot of nasty and harmful things being done by religious institutions and people in your life , basically. I’m not atheist but also not part of any majority religion. But also am unsure about like… what kinds of criticism of religious organizations and movements are ok and what kinds make you just an ass

Thoughts?

When I look at the Sistine Chapel, I find it beautiful. It is a stunning piece of art. I could walk inside of it for days and pore over every minute inch of crenellation and fresco to find something that was placed there with holy reverence. This is objective fact, at least as far as "objective fact" can exist when calling something a "stunning piece of art".

When I look at the Sistine Chapel, I remember that it was funded by Pope Sixtus IV, who not only condoned slavery, but claimed that to do so was a right granted by God unto the Spanish conquistadors to those disgusting foul New Worlders who would not convert to Christianity. This is also an objective fact, and it does not cancel out the previous one.

You could make a dichotomy like this about any given religion on the planet to have ever exist. "It made something beautiful. It also did something harmful." The way that you respect religions despite this is because this is also a dichotomy about any given anything that humans have ever done on a large scale. Nothing exists within a vacuum. Be critical of the flaws and faults and injustices you find--they're well within your rights to call out, and it is important. But there is also nothing that stops you from admiring Vergine delle rocce or Lacrymosa if you wish to.

[artmelia39]

The body as a temple.

I, like many North American children, was raised in a very Protestant household. I don't know how things have changed in the church since the late 90s/early 2000s, but when I was a child things like tattoos and piercings (especially on AMAB kids) was anathema.

Naturally, as teenagers do, I rebelled. I drew patterns like this on paper since middle school. In high school I started drawing it on my body. The belly of my arm was the number one canvas. I drew on it almost daily. I used every colour of pen I could get my hands on, every spare moment of class time or free time to make my arm a work of art. For that I was punished. A teacher gave me detention for doing this instead of reading, the air cadets thought it was a tattoo and forbade it, even my mother was shocked by it and had my pastor give me a talking to about the evils of ink. What did that result in? At age 18 I got my first real tattoo, then another, then two more. I stopped because of money, but if that were no object I would be covered head to toe.

So what's the point of this story of teenage drama? The way I was raised, the body was an ideal, Protestant temple. For those that have never been inside a Protestant church (at least NA ones around me), they are bereft of things like icons. There are no paintings of the saints, certainly none of Christ. And our bodies should reflect that and be "clean" for God. I deeply disagree with this notion. If our bodies are indeed temples, they ought to be like the Sistine Chapel, or Saint Basil's Cathedral: decorated with works of art.

Of course that art doesn't have to be religious in origin and I don't intend this to be a message solely for Christians. This is simply the perspective of someone that was neck deep in the church from childhood onwards. I don't hold any grudges for that, it simply was my experience.

In conclusion: if the body is a temple let the skin be a canvas to decorate it.

[kuramirocket]

Archeologists have unearthed the lost remains of a Teotihuacan village, including human burials, in the heart of Mexico City.

Ceramics found scattered around the site, which is located 1.5 miles (2.4 kilometers) northwest of the city's historical center, indicate the village dates from around A.D. 450 to 650 and may have housed a community of artisans and craftspeople.

"The finding was surprising," said an archaeologist at Mexico's National Institute of History and Anthropology (INAH) Directorate of Archeological Salvage, who co-led the dig. "It shows that 1,300 years ago, the islets inside Lake Texcoco, on which Mexico City was founded [after the lake was drained], already supported a permanent population that took advantage of the resources of the lake environment," he told Live Science in an email.

The newly excavated settlement may have formed during the "ruralization" of Teotihuacan, an ancient metropolis that flourished in the highlands of what is now central Mexico between A.D. 100 and 650.The village is located 25 miles (40 km) to the southwest of Teotihuacan and may have been one of several small towns that supported themselves through subsistence farming and fishing as the ancient city reached its zenith. These settlements maintained commercial ties to Teotihuacan, and the new discoveries shed light on the role these settlements played in the city's supply network.

"The discovery is rare because it occurred in a fully urbanized context where the possibility of finding archeological evidence associated with the Teotihuacan culture was very low," he added.

Gifted craftspeople

Archeologist Francisco González Rul discovered the first clues of this village's existence in the 1960s, during construction works in the Mexican capital. Based on ceramics he unearthed, González Rul suggested at the time that the inhabitants were self-reliant fishers and gatherers. The new excavations confirmed this.

Several previously unseen architectural structures — including post holes, flooring, channels and an artesian well — as well as ceramics have come to light. The excavation also unearthed three human burials containing the skeletons of two adults and a child.

Teotihuacan was an ancient metropolis that flourished in the highlands of what is now central Mexico.

Teotihuacan ceramics are categorized into phases, according to a 2016 study in the journal PLOS One. The newfound ceramics displayed features that correspond to the Xolalpan (A.D. 350 to 550) and Metepec (A.D. 550 to 600) phases in the 2016 study, which enabled the researchers to date the remains of the village and its inhabitants. 

The Teotihuacans were gifted artists and craftspeople, said a professor of archeology and director of the Teotihuacan Research Laboratory at Arizona State University. "To decorate the walls of their houses and temples, the Teotihuacanos used the same fresco technique used by Michealangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel," told the professor Live Science in an email. "They also used the fresco technique on ceramic vessels."

The ceramics could reveal important information about trade with Teotihuacan through chemical analysis, said the professor.

Archeologists have concluded the excavations and are now analyzing the discovered materials and bones. Much of Teotihuacan's sprawling architecture remains buried, but the site is largely unaffected by modern construction and will eventually be unearthed in its entirety.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

high infidelity | twenty three

How’d we end up on the floor anyway? You say, your roommates cheap ass screw top rose, that’s how. We pulled up to Noah’s house and my eyes widened at the sight of it, it was beautiful. I didn’t want to creep him out and ask him if he moved but this definitely wasn’t the house he had during his twitch days. It was a bungalow hidden between a few palm trees and various plants, it had a perfect Californian vibe to it. He led me inside and my breath was taken away again, it had floor to ceiling windows that had a perfect view of the LA skyline, and open concept where his kitchen, living room and dining room blended together. I looked outside and saw he had a small in ground pool as well with an egg chair beside it, I always wanted one of those.

“Well, what do you think?” “Noah this is…wow.” I was speechless. Noah passed me a glass of wine as I admired his home like it was the Sistine chapel. “I wouldn’t give this up for Vancouver.” “Ah, it’s just a house.” He said taking a sip of his wine, “By the way, this is Jesse’s wine, don’t say anything to him.” I nodded as I brought the glass to my lips, realizing it was a sweet rose. My eyes wondered around more, I saw his vinyl collection and I immediately went over to it. I shook my head in amazement, he really knew how to keep me guessing. He had Taylor Swift’s entire discography, along with her re-records, all organized by release date. I really adored his taste in music since he didn’t stick to one genre, there was a mixture of everything in his collection.

“Big Taylor Swift fan?” I joked as I grabbed Midnights and put it in his record player. Lavender haze filled the room as I walked over back over to him. “She’s been such a huge inspiration for me. Evermore got me through so much during the pandemic.” His voice trailed off, as if there was something that happened to him during that time. I didn’t want to dig, I knew if he wanted to say something he would. “Good choice, by the way. This is my favourite opening track for an album, ever.”

“It’s so good.” I agreed as I took another sip of my wine. My eyes followed Noah as he pulled out his iPad and started typing away on it. I watched him intently, his fingers moving so swiftly, his eyes full of concentration…he did everything with such intensity, it turned me on with no effort. “I ordered from my favourite restaurant, it should be here in half an hour. I figured since it was so late we could just spend time here and I’ll take you out tomorrow.” “That sounds great.” I replied. Noah walked around the kitchen island towards me, he offered me his hand and guided me to the couch. Everything felt so romantic, he had his lighting set to a soft glow, had candles burning and put his faux fireplace on. I was curious as to what his intentions were.

“Can I ask you something?” I said now that I had a little bit of liquid courage in my system. “Why are you so hesitant to have sex with me?”

Noah sighed and put his wine glass down. “El, it’s not like I don’t want to, trust me I do. Sex has become something I take seriously now. During the pandemic when my depression hit an all time low, I was drinking so much and I used to have these girls I’d call, they’d drop everything and come over so I could fuck them to forget my problems. I had no attachment to them whatsoever and I would kick them out the second I got what I wanted. All of it left me so empty and I stopped having sex all together for a long time. Then I met you and I knew I wanted to be with you in that way, my anxiety made me feel like my old habits would come back.” He paused and I could see tears flickering in his eyes. “I just love you so much sometimes it scares me, I want to do everything right with you.”

“I love you too Noah and I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t treat me like that. I’m sorry that you went through such a dark time. I’m also sorry that I was selfish and thought maybe it was something I did.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong at all. You’ve been so patient and kind with me, I don’t deserve you.” Noah replied with a sad tone, some days this mans emotions went deeper than I expected but if anything it made me love him more. He wasn’t ashamed to show them.

I cupped his face in my hand, catching the tear that escaped him. “I think you got it wrong, I don’t deserve you.”

He softly smiled at me as he poured me another glass of wine. The more the night went on the more bottles of wine we emptied. We ended up on the floor of his living room after dinner, listening to records, laughing about nothing and enjoying each other’s company. 

“You’re the greatest thing to ever happen to me you know that?” Noah drunkenly whispered as he crept up to me. I could taste his breath on me, it was sweet and strong. I watched him as his eyes focused on my lips, licking his own in the process. My heart was beating so fast and my eyes started to lose focus, I felt like maybe this was it. His lips crashed into me and I held onto the collar of his shirt as the kiss deepened. He pulled me onto his lap as he rested his back on the couch. He ripped my shirt off me and trailed kisses all over my shoulder, my collarbone and bit gently on the top of my breasts. I felt Noah growing harder under me as he took my bra off and let it cascade down my arms, completely exposing me. 

“So, so fucking beautiful.” He exhaled as he caressed my breasts, tracing circles around my nipples. I was in complete bliss, every single one of his touches sent fireworks off in my mind.

Noah held the back of my neck as he gently laid me down on the carpet, he disappeared for a moment but suddenly he was towering over me. My breath hitched when I felt something cold pooling on my stomach between Noah’s lips. He had an ice cube in his mouth and was trailing it all over my body, making me squirm. When it finally melted, he undid my pants and slid them down my legs, along with my underwear. Noah’s tongue hit my clit, it was frozen solid as he flicked it back and forth. I knew I was done for as my toes curled into the carpet. 

“You respond so well to my touch, you have no idea how fucking hard that makes me.” He looked up at me, grinning like a devil between my hips. He spat onto his fingers before sliding them in me, making me arch my back. His hand pressed on my lower abdomen as he hooked his fingers inside me, throwing me over the edge. “Come for me, I know you want to.”

“Noah - “ I couldn’t hold it, I screamed out in ecstasy as my body shuddered from my orgasm. He left me panting and seeing stars for a brief moment, but he didn’t give me much time to recover. He just looked at me like he was about to show me no mercy.

“I can’t wait anymore baby…I need to fuck you now.”

“I’m all yours.” I breathed out. I helped him get undressed as he closed his eyes before making a home between my thighs. He leaned over and gently kissed me, twitching as I stroked his throbbing cock. He deeply sighed with relief as soon as he was fully in me, his eyes glazed with pleasure as I wrapped around him. He started off slowly but picked up the pace rapidly, gripping into my hips to get deeper in me. Our bodies glistened with sweat, our sighs were so heavy and my body was shivering as my orgasm flooded me countless times.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so good baby.” he moaned into my ear as he clasped my wrists over my head. “I don’t think I can hold on anymore.”

“Then don’t.” I whispered, his face was mere inches from mine as his hair brushed my face. He gently nodded and started to thrust into me harder, making me gasp each time. Our eyes stayed locked before he couldn’t focus anymore. Noah crashed his forehead into my shoulder as he spilled into me, letting out the most ungodly moan in my ear. My god that was worth the wait. 

[prydainroyals]

Francis shifted in his seat with a furrowing brow, creased in thought. His gaze questioned Thomas silently even before he finally spoke:

“Has there been an incident?” he asked. 

Thomas shook his head, his slight smile returning; and at that reassurance, Francis seemed to relax.

“I’ll be glad to give it, but... where did this come from? I’d like to know.”

Thomas’ gaze drifted toward one of the small, reinforced windows--pathetic things, but nonetheless welcome little portals. Even though all they opened up to was the white death of the icy landscape outside.

“The First Lieutenant-- the Prince--” Thomas corrected himself, “--he’s a right good lad, a fine head on his shoulders and an actual brain inside it. But we’re almost at spring, the end of his tenure here. He seems distracted, and I think he intends to put in a request to stay. Word is, His Majesty is of a mind to let him.”

- - -

[EARLY SUMMER THE PREVIOUS YEAR]

[THE PAINTED HALL, OLD ROYAL NAVAL COLLEGE, LUNDENBURGH, PRYDAIN]

The Painted Hall-- Called the ‘Sistine Chapel’ of Prydain and site of weddings and ceremonial dinners and grand events and even art exhibits--it was a grand edifice, a monument to the glory of the Royal Navy, simultaneously a labor of love and an expression of decadent imperialistic self-revelry.

It sat quietly now, empty of any patrons of the museum within its vaults and the other wings of the College. The sun shone brightly through the high windows, casting beams of unrelenting bright gold through the air only for the light to spill upon the gleaming, polished floor.

The weighty hush that so often hung over sensible and stern places--like churches and libraries--was broken only by the footsteps of a man and the clink-clink-clink of the medals and orders so ceremoniously pinned to his chest.

The footsteps ceased, as the man had found the person for whom he’d been searching.

The man, the father, stood straight and firm, the very image of the expectations that rested so heavily on his shoulders.

“... Father,” greeted the son.

This silly boy, this foolish lad, had ducked away from the afterparty of a ceremony conducted in his honor once he’d socialized ‘enough,’ when he had had enough, when he had desperately desired solitude and wished to drown himself in the splendor and memory of a place far older than he.

The father stopped short--distant, like always.

“I thought I’d find you sulking here,” said His Royal Majesty, King George X.

His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur, answered with only silence.

- - -

PREV | BEGINNING | NEXT

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[hazellight11]

Downside: I am in pain

Upside: listened to Ghost inside Saint Peter's Basilica. Also learned a lot and saw a lot of stuff like statues and paintings and the sistine chapel but more importantly i listened to Ghost in St Peter's Basilica