#it makes you wonder what the occasion was for them to have a studio portrait! :o

[britishchick09]

senpai and the fam in 1935- the edited and original pics! ;)

[a-n-conrad]

Painting (Steve Rogers x Reader)

[Summary: You decide to paint your friend, Steve Rogers, realizing that no one had ever painted him without his uniform. However, things start to get heated after you start to daydream during your painting session. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT (18+, but with emotions), Not Canon Compliant (Because fuck you, Marvel.), Swearing, unprotected vaginal sex

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/D9rsJtkERoBPaKvv8)]

You and Steve Rogers were widely considered to be an unlikely pair. There were a lot of things that you didn’t exactly agree on. Steve was a lot more social, being bold and outgoing. You were a bit quieter, preferring to avoid the company of a crowd. Steve was prone to waking up early to exercise. You stayed up into the quiet hours of the night, choosing instead to get a majority of your sleep in the morning. You weren’t exactly fond of Steve’s workout routines either, though you would join him on a short jog on occasion.

While you were technically considered an Avenger, you were really only brought out to fight for emergency circumstances. You had some incredibly powerful, incredibly volatile powers, but you really had no interest in using them unless it was completely needed. So you ended up making a few deals. You’d be treated like an Avenger, but you were basically benched unless some drastic, world-ending issue came up. So until then, you were kept on hold in Avengers Tower, spending most of your time painting in the studio that Tony had gotten set up for you.

Despite this power, and despite your title as an official Avenger, you were still a bit of an outsider among the team. You tended not to talk to them a lot, becoming a bit easily overwhelmed by the chaos that the team seemed to radiate. But surprisingly, you and Steve got along incredibly well.

You had originally bonded over your love of art. You loved Steve’s drawings. You admired the linework and shading in his drawings. He could do so much with just a pen, let alone if you gave him a few colors. He admired the amount of emotion you managed to instill into every single painting that you made. No matter what you painted, whether it was a portrait, a landscape, or something entirely different, it was always filled to the brim with the emotion that you had felt while painting it. It was like looking through a window into your soul. It was so honest and refreshing.

Eventually the two of you started to talk a bit more while you worked. It started pretty tame, just discussions of how your day was or general questions about each other like “What’s your favorite color”. But eventually you moved on to the harsher topics of your lives. Steve would talk about how exhausting it was to be the face of America, to be held on such a pedestal while also being expected to sacrifice everything at the drop of a hat. You talked about how cold and dehumanizing it felt to be seen by the American government as nothing more than a weapon, a walking nuclear bomb.

Your struggles overlapped at certain points. You both spent a lot of your time being used by the government. You were both seen as tools more than you were seen as people by a lot of the general public. You were a weapon and he was an idol, some sort of trophy. So you bonded a lot over your shared struggles as you talked to each other and worked on art side by side. And when the hard stuff got a bit too heavy, you’d sit and talk about art. About subjects that you just loved to add to all of your work. About what each shade of every color meant to you, about the emotions that you saw in every tiny color shift.

It was so nice, for both of you, to have something like that. The studio that you spent time in was so safe and peaceful for both of you, since the other Avengers tended to avoid it. And the two of you had started to see through each other’s masks enough to truly get to know each other. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had known him as Steve Rogers more than they had known him as Captain America. He had Bucky, but Bucky was far too busy with his own issues for Steve to even consider burdening him with anything else. But with you he could truly be himself, even if that meant getting angry, sad, or frustrated.

So the two of you had become incredibly close, despite your differences. And every day that you had some free time without any big meeting or mission, you would be in the studio helping each other with art. It was a good way for you to relieve stress, just relaxing with each other. It was one of those days that you came to a realization.

- - - - -

“Has anyone ever painted you?” You asked suddenly one day as the two of you sat side by side in the art studio. He looked a bit surprised, and then he looked confused.

“Of course. There are murals of me up all over the place, (Y/n).”

“No, there are murals of Captain America,” you responded, shaking your head, “They don’t really look that much like you. You really only look like that when you’re working as Captain America. So has anyone ever painted you? As Steve Rogers?”

He looked surprised again. And you could tell as the emotions cycled through his face that he didn’t really know how to respond. You supposed it was a bit of an odd question. And you knew that it was a bit odd to think of someone and their superhero persona as two different people, but Steve couldn’t disagree. He wasn’t Captain America all the time, and he loved that you understood that, “I suppose I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess not.”

You hummed a bit, “That’s a shame. It feels like a waste that everyone paints a costume. You should let me paint you sometime.”

You said it in a way that he wasn’t sure if you were serious. Your face was entirely serious when you said it, but you said it so casually, not even really looking at him, “Really?”

You finally looked up at him, noticing the pure confusion on his face, “Of course. I mean, you’d have to sit still for a while, but honestly, you could probably just sit and sketch for a while. You just seem too good of a subject to not be painted without the costume.”

Steve wasn’t really one to blush, but it was quite the compliment coming from you. He had women trying to hit on him all the time now, being Captain America, but that never really felt heartfelt. It had been a fairly long time since he had actually felt a real connection with someone. But to hear you compliment him, thinking of him as Steve Rogers instead of Captain America, made his heart flutter a bit. And the fact that he knew that you were rather picky about the subject you painted only made it more effective.

“I, uh, think that’d be cool,” He responded as soon as he was sure that he could trust his voice not to crack, though he couldn’t hide the slight stutter. It was honestly endearing how much his personality changed when he wasn’t working. While he was still headstrong and stubborn, he was a bit less confident. He knew he could win a fight. He knew that he looked good on television. But he didn’t really know how to interact with people in the new modern age. He was lucky to have the friends that he did. At least, that’s how he felt about it.

“Wonderful,” You hummed, starting to put away all of your supplies, “Why don’t we pack it up for the day and I can start painting you tomorrow if we aren’t too busy?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

- - - - -

The next day was surprisingly slow. You had to say that you were thankful. You had been looking forward to getting to paint Steve, even though you knew it was making him a little nervous. You were honestly excited to have a new project, and part of you was excited for the opportunity to stare at Steve for a bit without it being considered weird. He was easy to admire, both physically and on a personal level, so you found yourself staring more often than you’d like to admit. You were pretty sure that you had been lucky enough to avoid being caught though.

He was physically gorgeous. Obviously. But something about the way that he looked when he was drawing was nearly angelic. The way he furrowed his brows just a little and turned his paper at odd angles to make sure that the proportions of his sketches were right was adorable. The look in his eyes when his work started to come together made your heart melt. When he got a bit frustrated and would run a hand through his hair you could feel your heart skip a beat. You felt a bit dumb to be drooling over your friend, but you had to admit you were falling pretty hard for him. So you’d use this painting as an excuse to admire him without any questions.

He was already blushing a bit when he came into the studio, and you had a feeling that part of it was from Tony teasing him. He had a habit of giving the two of you a bit of a hard time about how much time you spent together. But the blush was still adorable. Something about Steve when he was nervous stole your heart. He was surprisingly soft when he had the space to be.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” He asked as he strode over to your work station that you had already gotten set up.

“Just pull a chair up in front of me. You can get comfortable, start sketching, and I’ll get a base outline and block out as much as I can. Just let me know if you need a break and try not to change your pose too much. At least until I can get all of the base shapes right,” You instructed, trying to keep your voice even. You were surprised at how well you managed to hide the fact that you were completely lovesick.

“Alright, sounds good,” He responded, pulling up a chair and getting himself situated. He crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his ankle on his other thigh to give himself a place to set his sketchbook. You tossed him his pencil once he got himself settled, and then you got to work.

You had to admit you had started to get a bit frustrated with how easily you managed to get distracted by him while you were trying to paint. You had hoped that maybe painting him would help. You had no reason to get distracted from your painting when you were painting him. At least, that’s what you had thought before you started sketching out the form.

You felt yourself losing focus as your brush moved smoothly, the incredibly thin, light paint building a form that you found yourself wanting to know a bit more intimately. You tried your best to stay focused on the canvas in front of you, but you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting. You imagined what his body looked like under his clothes as you blocked out the lights and shadows of the fabric that rested over his abs. And the vivid image in your brain, the detailed picture of his body that you had conjured up in front of you, followed your brush as you worked.

The brush slid smoothly across the canvas, outlining his muscles, almost all of which showed through his thin t-shirt. Your brain almost instantly conjured up a matching image, the fantasy becoming more and more dynamic as you went on. It shifted from regular images of what his abs looked like when he was shirtless to more detailed images. Thoughts of his biceps flexing a bit as he held himself over you, his arms covered in sweat. Thoughts of his hands sliding across your skin. It only got worse as you moved down, eventually reaching the point between his legs.

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Steve’s voice finally broke you from your thoughts, his eyes which had been focused intently on his drawing when you had last looked were now trained on your face, scanning for any sign as to what was causing you to space out, “You don’t normally get distracted when you’re painting, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” You tried your best to pull yourself back to reality, though the fantasies seemed to be burned into your brain, “Yeah, sorry. I was, uh, spacing out a bit.”

“Do you want to take a break for a bit? Maybe we should get up and stretch,” He suggested. You nodded in response, hoping it would help you refocus on your painting.

It didn’t help much, though, as Steve stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted up just enough to show some skin, and his pants were riding fairly low. Your eyes almost involuntarily moved to look at him, landing right about the button to the jeans that he was wearing. The muscles in his hips and stomach formed an almost perfect V shape leading into his pants.

“(Y/N)?” You had been caught staring. You tried your best to look casual, relaxing your posture. Your mistake was to try to lean on the table, setting your hand directing on your palette, which was covered in paints.

You froze, and Steve’s eyes landed on your hand, the red and blue paint gushing out from the sides. You felt like an awkward teenager, doing stupid ridiculous shit in front of your crush. You watched intently for a reaction from Steve, not really knowing what to do and hoping that the way that he reacted would give you something easy to respond to.

He raised one of his eyebrows at you, a look of confusion, with a small hint of amusement under the surface painted across his face, “You seem to have set your hand in your paint.”

“Uh, yes, it would seem so,” You responded awkwardly, finally lifting your hand out of the paint. You still really weren’t sure what to say, and not knowing where to put your hand so that you wouldn’t smear any paint anywhere wasn’t really making you feel any better. You cleared your throat a bit, trying to think of something smart to say, something that wouldn’t signal exactly how far gone you were into your fantasies, but instead you just signaled to Steve how flustered you were.

You knew that Steve had never been the biggest ladies’ man. From what he had told you, he was actually pretty awkward growing up, but the confidence that washed over him as he finally figured out what was getting you so flustered was visible. He walked closer to you, standing close enough to emphasize how tall he was, “Got something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh,” You stuttered, not sure what to say. You could tell that he knew from the smirk on his face, but you could feel your face heating up as you thought about explaining your fantasizing to Steve. He smirked even more as you got visibly flustered.

“It’s okay, honey, I don’t mind if you stare a little,” He said, standing a bit closer, his hand moving to hold your chin. You swallowed deeply as his fingers brushed against your skin softly. Your eyes locked with his as his hand tilted your chin up just a little.

As much as he was keeping up his confident, masculine persona, you could see the complete warmth in his eyes. He softened completely when you looked at him, pure admiration in your eyes. He had to admit it warmed his heart to see you looking at him like that, like he was your whole world. And maybe it was because he felt the same way. He had been falling in love with you slowly, and as he looked at you, he wanted to find every way possible to express it.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his voice soft.

“Please.”

His lips were much softer than you thought they’d be, but you didn’t think about it too much as his lips moved against your own. It was soft at first, but it began to escalate quickly, getting rough and more passionate. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body into his own, and your hands moved to his face, too focused on the kiss to notice the fact that you were smearing paint across his cheek.

He pulled back, allowing you to get a breath of air. That was when you noticed the red and blue streaks across his cheek, “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about,” He brushed it off, before pulling you into another kiss. He truly didn’t seem to care at all about the paint, choosing instead to focus on you.

This kiss started off much more passionate, building even further. Before long he pulled away again, pulling a groan from your mouth as you instinctively wanted more. Your complaints were silenced, though, as he began to kiss down your neck, nipping slighting at a few select spots, leaving marks for you to see later.

“If you want me to stop, just say it,” He said, as his hands started to move towards the hem of your shirt. He was moving slowly, giving you the chance to stop him at any point. You didn’t.

Before long, your clothes were entirely discarded, scattered haphazardly across the floor. Steve’s followed shortly. Neither of you could keep your hands to yourself, feeling the curves of each other's bodies as you continued to kiss. Both of you were desperate, the tension that neither of you even realized had been building finally crashing to the ground around you, any sort of restraint being thrown out the window.

However, you had to take a few moments to admire his body. You knew that it was perfect, he was a super soldier, of course it’s perfect, but you didn’t really know how perfect until it was right in front of you. There was no way you could’ve imagined it in a way that did it true justice. The warmth under his skin, the pace of his breathing, the firm feeling of his grip on your waist. Those were things that you could never have imagined fully.

He lifted you up without any issue, placing his hands under your thighs, carrying you to the work table and setting you on a clear section of the table without breaking the kiss. His hands slid across the tops of your thighs before grabbing your hips. Yours moved from his cheeks to rest on his bare chest, smearing a bit more paint across his scalped chest. You could feel his erection brush against your leg as he leaned over you, the two of you trying to get as close to each other as possible.

You were breathing heavily, your brain clouded with need, both new and left over from your earlier fantasies. Fantasies that were coming true, “Please, Steve.”

“What is it, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, looking down at you, his pupils blown wide with desire, “What do you want?”

You began to grind against his thigh without really thinking about it. He had to admit that something about you needing him this much turned him on, but he wanted to wait until you said it before he did anything, “Please fuck me.”

He would’ve liked to have a bit more foreplay, but both of you were so needy, having built up to this for so long with so little release until now. So he complied with your request. He pulled you quickly to the edge of the table. You were forced to lay your upper body down completely so that he could pull your hips to hang over the edge a bit. He took a few moments to rub himself against the entrance to your pussy, coating the head of his cock with liquid that was practically dripping from your pussy. Finally, he pushed himself into you slowly, making sure to monitor your reaction for any sort of discomfort. You were indulging in the feeling of him slowly stretching you out, completely enjoying the feeling of having him as close to you as possible.

He started moving after he was sure that you were comfortable, his hands beginning to wander your body, squeezing at your hips and breasts, basically any part of you that had a bit of squish, something for him to grab. His mouth latched on to the base of your neck, leaving a deep, dark hickey. You could feel every movement of his hips, his cock brushing against your internal walls again with each thrust.

You couldn’t hold back your moans as he found the perfect spot to hit, one of his hands gripping one of your hips tightly to hold you in place as his thrusts gained momentum. He started picking up speed a bit, taking care to continue to hit the spot that made you moan the loudest. His other hand slid down further, his fingers making their way between your folds. He was surprisingly quick to find your clit, not that you were complaining. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as he started to rub small circles over it, keeping pace with his thrusts.

You were practically putty in his hands, falling apart as he found every way to make you moan. Touch, squeezing, kissing, and biting exactly where you needed him to. You had no idea how he knew exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t really care as a knot began to build in the pit of your stomach.

You practically screamed his name as the knot finally snapped, Steve continuing his motions, continuing to rub your clit, as you rode out your climax, your whole body feeling as though fireworks were shooting through your veins. Your walls tightened with the waves of your orgasms, the fluttering feeling clear to Steve as he continued to bury himself inside of you. Soon after your climax finished, you could feel his thrust begin to get a bit sloppy, focus clear on his face as he tried his best to hold on longer.

He couldn’t hold on that long, though, soon giving in to the building pleasure. He came hard, his hips snapping into your own and his head being buried in your neck to hide his curses as he came completely undone. You could feel the thick hot ropes of his cum coating your insides as he finished. You both stayed like that for a few moments in order to catch your breath.

As you started to come back to reality, you finally noticed the mess you had made. Steve’s hair was a mess, blue paint sticking some of the tips together. You couldn’t even remember when you had grabbed his hair, but the paint smears left a clear map of where your hand had wandered. The blue and red stripes across his face and chest were clear, too. In fact, you had gotten paint all over his sculpted body, the blue smears outlining his muscles.

“We should probably clean up and get back to work, huh?” He eventually sighed, his eyes never leaving your body.

“I suppose.”

(A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want to send me a tip for my writing feel free to tip me over venmo! My venmo is Al3x13l. Tips aren't required, but as a broke college student, they are appreciated.)

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being the outgoing social daughter of Bumi and developing a friendship with Huan Beifong. Huan develops feelings for you but doesn’t know how to handle that so uses art to express himself...which Wei and Wing share with you, exposing Huan’s secret.  

Part 2 here

Part three here

You had come along on the avatar’s trip to find airbenders mainly because you and your father were now airbenders too thank to harmonic convergences but also because you longed to see more of the world and this seemed like the perfect excuse. You were obsessed with Zafou for many reasons but the art and culture was the main reason. Growing up in the fire nation, where your mother was from, there was not much of that. All art work was usually portraits or statues of royal family members and there were no dances just for fun or non-formal occasions. But in Zafou everywhere you looked there was individuality or creativity. Through their dancing to their method of bending, everything about Zafou was beautiful to you. When you first saw Huan it was while he was working on a sculpture. He got annoyed when Bolin couldn’t tell what the sculpture was but you hardly even heard their argument. “it’s not a banana. I was inspired by harmonic convergence, it represents the dawning of a new age..obviously” Huan glared before frowning as he noticed you. You’d stepped closer to look at the sculpture and were now right beside him gazing at his work “wow this is amazing” you grinned “you do all of this just using your bending?” you asked positively beaming. Huan looked at you, confused why you were smiling so brightly at him. “Erm yes...” he nodded. “That’s so cool” you told him “that must take a lot of precision and skill!”. “...well yes it does” Huan agreed and you smiled at him. Huan looked away from your intense eyes, blushing slightly and walked away. You stared at his pieces of art in awe not noticing his discomfort at all. 

Huan was the first artist you’d ever met and you were very intrigured by him so you found your way back to Huan’s work area later that same day. He didn’t hear you as you walked towards him but when you got close enough to see his face you saw he was wrapped up in thought and paused. You didn’t want to disrupt him, you understood not to stop an artist in their flow (something your dad always told you when he was in the middle of one of his stories) so paused. You’d wait for him to stop and them greet him. You hopped up onto a statue you could use as a bench and waited.

Huan’s POV 

When Huan did see you, your red airbender uniform catching his eye, he jumped not knowing how long you’d been there watching him. He stared at you trying to think of a reason why you’d be here when you noticed he’d seen you and waved happily. “Hi Huan” you called and he frowned “erm hi, what are you doing there....”. Your smile didn’t fade at all “I was just watching you work, I hope you don’t mind I’ve just never seen an artist work before! Can i sit in on your session?”. Huan didn’t blush easily but he felt his cheeks heat up and his throat go dry. “Erm sure, just keep quiet okay? I need to concentrate”. You nodded obediently “you won’t even know i’m here” you smiled but Huan doubted that.  

Huan could tell you were an airbender because hours later you were still sat as still as a mouse watching him contently and it drove him crazy. Huan couldn’t focus, his mind kept wandering back to you and he could swear he could literally feel your gaze on him. Huan didn’t get why you were here?  Everytime he glanced back there you looked happy and interested, you’d smile at him and he’d blush. Embarassed Huan decided he wouldn’t look at you anymore but his mind was still on you. Had Wei and Wing put you up to this? There was no reason you were this interested in art to sit on an uncomfortable metal statue for hours watching him achieve nothing. Frustrated Huan sighed “nothing’s coming to be today I am done for the day”. You hopped off your perch “that’s okay i’m sure you’ll get it tomorrow”. Huan stared at you confused at your niceness and just sighed tired of trying to figure you out. “Can i come back tomorrow?” you asked shyly and Huan couldn’t bring himself to tell you no, you seemed like one of those people too sweet for even Huan to disappoint. “I guess” he shrugged and you grinned “thanks Huan” and bounded away. Huan sighed watching you, he figured you were just intruged by the loner Beifong, you’d soon realise he was nothing special and grow bored of him.

Huan was proved wrong, everyday you’d appear in Huan’s work space and watch him quietly. Even though your visits were now regular it didn’t mean Huan coped better, if anything he got worse. His work progress dwindled but he had to admit there was something comforting about your optimistic presence. Huan found he was thinking about you more in these sessions than his own work and had given up trying to stop thoughts of you popping up in his head and just let them be. Recently Huan was wondering if you were uncomfortable sat on the metal beam you’d chosen as a seat. It wasn’t really a seat and must be cold and hard but you never complained or fidgeted. Huan wondered if he should make it into a bench and got annoyed at himself for focusing on that instead of his art work. He tried turning his attention back to his work but couldn’t get his worry for you out of his head so just sighed turning around "y/n stand up". You bounded up and looked at Huan trustingly. Huan didn’t especially like talking to you, it made him blush and feel stupid because he always stuttered or muddled up his words so he just pulled you away from the statue. He started to bent the metal and could feel you watching right behind him which made sweat roll down his forehead. It took a while and the silence as you waited made Huan uncomfortable but finally he was finished and nodded to you "there now you can sit more comfortably". You looked from Huan to the bench and smiled "a bench...you made a bench for me". Huan blushed "i just thought...". "That’s so kind thank you" you smiled placing a hand on his arm. Huan tensed as you touched him but didn’t pull away. "I’ll let you get back to work" you smiled and walked away to your new bench happily

1 week later

You spent more and more time with Huan, not only in his outside work space but also in his inside studio and had even minorly assisted Huan with one of his projects. Huan had come to class you as a friend, well maybe not a friend but he liked your presence and although he didn’t speak to you lots he’d come to speak with you more than he did his family. You were just an easy person to talk to and Huan was growing in his confidence with you when it was all yanked away when the avatar left Zafou and you had to go too. When Huan heard the news you’d be leaving he told himself this was good, now he’d be able to get back to his projects, which he’d fallen far behind on and finally focus. But when you left Huan felt weird. Being in his studio now felt lonely without you, the empty bench in the yard felt so daunting and large without you on it and he couldn’t help but picture you sat there and wish you were there. All this annoyed Huan and he decided he needed to get it out, to get the image of you out of his head and onto something solid. Maybe then he’d stop thinking about you so much. So he locked himself away for three weeks and worked on a painting of you just as he remembered in what was becoming his most fond memory, you sat in the garden of his work space watching him. Huan worked tirelessly night and day to make it fitting and corrected any small imperfection mercilessly. When Huan finally finished at 5am on the third week of his project he was utterly exhuasted and promptly collapsed into sleep right there on the floor. The painting he’d created of you finished proudly in the centre of his studio.  

Huan woke up to voices and knew there were intruders in his studio. He peered through the darkness and saw it was his twin brothers as expected. “Ow” Huan cried when one of them stood on his hand. “Ow there you are” Wei said “why’s it so dark in here...”. Wing reached the curtain and tugged it open giving Huan the urge to hiss at how bright it was. “He lives” Wei cried. “Yeah but he looks pretty rough” Wing smirked before his eyes drifted across the room and Huan realised he hadn’t covered your painting. “Ow what’s this...” Wing called crossing the room and Huan tried to grab him but failed. Wing dodged his brother and stood infront of the painting “Wei come here” he said after a few seconds of staring. “No stop it” Huan cried getting onto his feet but his brothers had already seen it. Wei whistled at the size of the painting but them paused “wait is that...y/n?”. “Oh my god it is” Wing cried as Huan tried to cover it up finally reaching them. “You painted her! did she ask you to do this?”. “No she doesn’t know” Huan muttered getting the cover over but Wing just tugged it away. “Is it a gift for her?”. “No it was just...something I did” Huan sighed and Wei and Wing smirked locking eyes. “No...no” Huan started but his brothers ignored him. “Awww you’ve got it bad brother” Wing smirked grabbing Huan. “I don’t have anything” Huan snapped trying to get out of his stronger brother’s grip but Wei grabbed his other arm trapping him. “Yes you do, look at how you drew her, you drew her like an angel, the light on her face like that...”. “No I didn’t...that’s just how she looks”. “You realise you just implied she’s an angel right?” Wei asked “and yet you claim you don’t totally fancy her”. “I do not! Y/n’s just a friend...maybe not even that” he snapped yanking his arm out of their grip “now get out of my studio!”. “Ow my god there’s more” Wei cried seeing the canvases behind the painting and Wing laughed “i don’t think he just likes y/n...”. “They were my first drafts!” Huan cried “that’s all! I was going to do one more focused on her face but that’s hard when she’s not here so i did a more landscape version”. “Yeah sure” Wing smirked “how about we show y/n these and see what she thinks?”. “No, no way!” Huan cried putting himself between his brothers and the paintings. Huan didn’t totally know how he felt about you, although he had his suspicions, but he knew his brothers telling you terrified him. The twins went to argue and Huan’s anger peaked “You will never tell a soul about the painting or else! Now get out!” he yelled. “Fine geesh” Wei smirked “we know when we’re not wanted, come on Wing”. 

Wei and Wing’s POV

Wei pulled Wing out of the room and Wing turned to him “we’re not seriously keeping this quiet right?”. “No we’re going to get the painting to y/n, our brother needs some help admitting he likes her and what better thing to prompt him to confess that y/n herself?”.

Your POV  

“Y/n!” you heard someone call you and came out of your room to find your father and uncle Tenzin dragging a large package into the house. Given the size of the package a crowd had gathered and you joined them. “Woah what is this?” you asked and your father huffed “well don’t you know it’s addressed to you”. “Me?” you cried “but i didn’t order anything”. “It says your name very clearly” Tenzin said reading the label “maybe it’s a gift?”. “A gift that size” Asami whistled and Bolin nodded “open it y/n! open it! open it!”. Your cousins joined in the chant and you nodded “okay, okay” and stepped forwards. “Erm Korra a little help?” you asked and she nooded. She slit the box with metal bending and the box opened with small foam balls falling everywhere. “This is the best gift ever” Meelo cried and Tenzin frowned “Meelo that’s not the gift....Meelo don’t eat that!”. You laughed as Tenzin yanked the plastic from Meelo’s mouth when Korra gasped “y/n it’s....it’s”. Your aunt Kya got to the box next and she had a similar reaction “it’s beautiful” she gasped “y/n who did this?”. “Did what?” you asked and Korra turned to your father “Bumi hold the box while I pull it out. It took Tenzin, Bumi, Kya and Korra to get it out but when they did you all went silent. It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. The painting showed a young woman sat on a metal bench surrounded by flowers and trees. The sun was setting making the colour of all the plants stand out against her red clothes. The girl seemed to be mid laugh and looked beautiful. “Wow” you gasped as Asami smiled “you look beautiiful”. “What do you mean?” you asked and she frowned “y/n thats you!”. “No it’s not me...” you frowned before realising the red clothes were your air bending uniform. “Who sent this?” Bolin asked as you stepped closer to the painting. The scenery looked familair...and the metal bench... “Huan” Korra said suddenly “that’s his name there in the corner signed isn’t it?”. Tenzin nodded “yes, he is more talented than I thought”. “Huan did this?” you asked before smiling “he knew I liked art so he made me a painting”. “It’s beautiful” Jinora smiled “it’s probably one of the only pieces of art featuring an airbender in centuries and I’ve never seen one this beautiful before”. “You’re probably right Jinora” Tenzin nodded “airbender rarely comissioned paintings or had much use for fine arts so this is quite special, did you know about this y/n?”. “No” you smiled “he must’ve been working on it for ages without telling me, I have to go thank him, uncle Tenzin can i borrow Oogie?”. Tenzin looked to Bumi who just stared at him and so nodded “yes...”. You thanked him rushing out of the door in the blink of an eye. 

Bumi’s POV

“Now that is a nice piece of art” Bumi smiled exmaining the painting as Tenzin appeared beside him. “Yes...Huan must really like y/n”. “Well who doesn’t like my daughter? She’s amazing” Bumi said smiling proudly. Tenzin coughed not sure why his brother was so relaxed about this. “yes, but aren’t you concerned?” Tenzin asked but Bumi just shrugged. “Why would I be concerned?”. “Well Huan has taken it upon himself to do this beautiful painting of your daughter and she see’s it and runs off to travel three hours in this weather to tell him how much she likes it”. Bumi nodded still not getting what Tenzin meant and Tenzin sighed “aren’t you worried that this large gesture is a show of Huan’s intentions for y/n?”. When Bumi continued to frown Tenzin rolled his eyes “that he’s possibly in love with her”. Bumi physically jumped “no he can’t be, this doesnt mean that, my y/n’s still a kid, she’s still my baby girl”. “I mean her and Huan did become pretty close” Bolin nodded and Bumi glared “you take that back”, “And look how he drew her” Mako nodded “she’s the most beautiful girl i’ve seen in any painting”. Bumi glared “are you interested in my daughter too huh police boy?”. “No, i just meant look at how he sees her, I think Tenzin’s right”. “Ow no, i’ve let my daughter run off to her boyfriend unsupervised” Bumi cried “I need to stop her before I loose her forever” and he ran out the door. 

Your POV    

You arrived at Zafou cold and tired but still so excited to see Huan. You hoped he wouldn’t mind you showing up so abruptly and made your way to his inside studio figuring he’d be in there given the weather. It started snowing an hour into your journey and hadn’t stopped since. When you got to Huan’s studio however the lights were off and the door locked so you sighed not sure where to try next, you had no idea where his bedroom was. You were wandering around trying to find the main house when two figures appeared. “Y/n?” Wei and Wing called and you grinned relieved to see them. “Hey guys it’s so good to see you! I’m lost can you help me find Huan?”. “Why?” Wing smirked “did something come in the mail?”. You grinned “you guys knew?”. Wei nodded “Huan showed it us, it was beautiful wasn’t it?”. You nodded “It was amazing, that’s why I came, to thank him for it, nobodies ever given me such a beautiful present before”. Wing smiled “yeah well it would be Huan”. You frowned as Wing an Wei exchanged looks “why because he’s an artist?”. “No, we meant if anyone would give you a gift like that of course it’d be Huan”. Your frown deepened “it would...why?”. Wei sighed “now look y/n we don’t usually get involved in stuff like this but seeing as our older brother is useless at stuff like this we’ll tell you okay?”. You nodded not sure what you were expecting them to say but it wasn’t what came next. “Huan likes you...a lot....like a lot of a lot”. You paused “he does? but...no, we’re just friends”. Wing smirked “maybe to you but to Huan? He liked you y/n, he sulked for ages after you left”. “No...I mean i wasn’t even sure Huan actually liked me until I saw the painting, we’re just friends I’m sure”. “Y/n didn’t you notice how he painted you, how much attention to detail he paid to you, you don’t do that for any friend”. “well maybe not...”. “And we’ve seen him with you” Wei told you “y/n he’s never show an interest in any girls...and he’s had interest from pleanty of pretty ones before but he never even paid attention to them, let alone made them a 4 foot masterpiece”. You blushed “you really think your brother likes me?”. Wing smirked “we know so because he does that same blush when we mention your name to him”. You blushed even more and Wei smirked “the light in Huan’s room has just switched on, my guess is he’s in there”. You looked at the illuminated window and suddenly felt nervous to see him. “You think I should...talk to him about this?”. “Yes” Wing and Wei answered automatically and you paused “i don’t know maybe he doesn’t actually...” making Wei sigh and look to Wing.  “Huan!!!” they both yelled. You jumped and hit them both lightly “why did you do that! Now he’s gonna...”., “Y/n?” a familiar voice called and you spun to see Huan’s head poking out of his window. “Hi” you smiled “I just came to thank you for the painting and i bumped into Wing and Wei”. “painting...Wing and Wei?” Huan asked and it all clicked and he glared at his brothers. “You little...” he started when Wing and Wei smriked “aren’t you going to invite y/n in Huan? She flew all this way just to see you”. You and Huan both blushed but Huan looked at you “you did? that’s like four hours and it’s almost winter”. You shrugged “it was only three and i wanted to see you in person”. Those words made Huan feel dizzy and he smiled without realising it “well come inside you must be freezing”. You hurried inside and Huan glared at Wing and Wei “I will pay you back for this” but they just winked and walked away. You reached Huan’s room and huddled in front of the fire. Huan resisted the urge to wrap a blanket around you and tried not to stare at you. You’d never been in Huan’s room before and broke the silence after looking around “your room’s lovely” you smiled and Huan felt pleased. “You think so?”. You nodded admiring the many books and instruments dotted around “but I knew it would be”. “How?”. “Well i mean you’re an artist and well dressed, you have an eye for colours and stuff so i guess i assumed you’d be good at decorating too”. Huan blushed but smirked “you know that’s not how art works right?”. “I know” you nodded blushing and Huan was confused why, you’d never acted nervous around him before but now you did....was it the painting? Had he creeped you out? “What did you think of the painting?” Huan asked bravely and your face soon broke into a smile again “I love it!”. “Yeah?” Huan asked acting like those words didn’t make his stomach do backflips “you do?”. You nodded “it was so beautiful, all the delicate brush strokes and merge of colours, I was so pleased you based it on me”. “It wasn’t based on you it was you” Huan said confused and you blushed again “I mean but it can’t be...I don’t look like that, the girl you based on me was...well more beautiful than any human i’ve ever seen”. Huan frowned, it had taken Wei and Wing a second to realise it was you too. “I apologise” Huan frowned “I must not be as good a painter as I thought”. “Are you kidding you’re amazing” you cried and Huan shook your compliment away. “You’re not the first person to struggle placing the girl as you, I do not understand though, to me that is how you look”. Huan seemed to realise what he’d said after he said it and saw your reaction in slow motion. You gasped slightly, your lips parted as you stared at him and what he’d just said. You met his eyes and then both looked away rapidly.  Huan was blushing and kicked himself for saying that. “Do you really see me like that?” you asked and Huan nodded “yes”. “so it’s true” you said softly “what Wei and Wing said”. Huan frowned “wait what?”. You jumped and Huan regretted talking so loudly, “i’m sorry” he said lowering his voice “what did Wei and Wing say to you?”. You blushed and Huan swallowed this could not be good. "They said you...were fond of me". Huan’s tanned skin turned red and you paused unsure if that was a good or bad reaction but carried on now you’d started "that you liked me". Huan didn’t reply so you sighed "do you Huan?". Huan fiddled with his metal bracelet before nodding "yes". He looked at you waiting for your response and saw you frown. His heart sank, when he realised you weren’t looking at him but to the door where you could hear raised voices. "Dad?" you asked when the door was thrown open and Bumi appeared. "Ow y/n!" he smiled seeing you before he spotted Huan "you!" he all but gasped. "Get away from my daughter you tatooed dyed haired ruffian” Bumi yelled and you stared eyes wide “dad!”. Huan didn’t seem concerned though he just watched your father calmly. “Sir I am not inappropriately near your daughter and I don’t have a tattoo” when Bumi cut him off punching him in the stomach. “Put them up” he cried “we will fight for my daughter’s honour!”. “Dad!” you cried pushing him away from Huan with airbending. You rushed to Huan who was doubled over “Huan are you okay?” you asked putting an arm around him and he nodded “he just winded me that’s all”. You spun on your father a face like thunder “outside now!”. Huan watched amazed as your father hung his head in shame and obeyed.

After strong words with your father you sent him away to wait by Oogie for you and returned to Huan. You knocked nervously and opened it when you heard Huan call back. He was sat down and you scanned him for any signs he was hurt. “I’m sorry about that” you frowned “are you okay? He didn’t hit you too hard did he?”. Huan blushed embarassed and shook his head “i’m fine”. Your father just beat him up, there was no way even if you did like him before that you liked him now. "My father always has amazing timing" you frowned "Huan i’m sorry...i never got to reply to you". "It’s okay" Huan shrugged but you shook your head "no it’s not but hopefully i can take you out on a date to make up for it?". Huan paused and looked up at you "what?". "Well if you wanted to..." you blushed "i like you too". Huan stood up and honestly you expected a smile, maybe a laugh, perhaps ever a hug or kiss but you didn’t expect Huan to disagree with you. "No you don’t" he said simply. You paused "i’m sorry what?". "Girls like you don’t talk to people like me and if they do they certainly don’t want to date us". You frowned "what do you mean girls like me?". "All pretty and confident and nice..." he sighed "why would you like me i’m nothing like you?". "Maybe that’s why?" You shrugged “opposites attract and all that?”. Huan shook his head "no you date boys like Wing and Wei not me". "Says who?" You asked "i don’t want to go on a date with your brothers...no offence they’re lovely but well you're different..:.”. “Because I’m an artist?” Huan asked “is that it? You’ve never met one before you’re probably just impressed with that!”. "Why are you trying to convince me i don’t like you?" you asked and Huan rolled his eyes "because its better that way, it’s easier you realise it now rather than later down the road..it would certainly be a lot kinder on me". “But I...what do you think I’m going to do? Get bored or something? Change my mind?”. Huan went quiet and you knew that was it, Huan didn’t think you really liked him, he thought this was a phase. "Why don’t you believe me?” you asked confused and Huan sighed angrily “because why would I? Why would I believe someone like you would like me?”. “Because you’re an amazing guy with tons of good qualities” you shot back and Huan laughed “sureee I can’t think of a single thing you like about me other than me being an artist”. “I could name tons of things!” you cried and Huan raised his eyebrow “ow yeah?”. “Yeah” you cried and took a deep breath. Angrily, you faced Huan fully and listed whatever came to mind. “I like how your hair looks and the dyed green bit especially. I like how sure of yourself and your art you are. I liked how your face clouds when you’re working and how you scrunch up your nose when you’re concentrating especially hard! I like how you speak your mind and don’t try and be polite! I like how you can also be really sweet and thoughtful. I like how you’re like nobody i’ve ever met before and not because you’re an artist or a Beifong but because there’s nobody else like you Huan...”. You would’ve carried on but Huan was embarassed and overcome with emotion so just did what he body told him to do. Huan cupped your face and cut you off as he kissed you. You gasped in shock at the sensation and the realisation that Huan was kissing you sunk in but rushed to kiss him back none the less. Huan seemed to lose confidence really quickly and his eyes snapped open and he let go of you just as you were getting into it. “sorry I...” he started but you cut him off “no don’t apologise” you smiled grabbing his hand “I liked that...I like you Huan”. Huan blushed and he couldn’t help smile. You grinned to see Huan finally believed you and how he was holding onto your hand a blush on his cheeks. “So that date?” you asked and Huan nodded “i’d like that a lot”. “You would?” you asked and Huan nodded “I know a great place we can go if you want to see more of Zafou, we could go this weekend if you wanted”. “That sounds amazing” you grinned and Huan blushed “great”. You smiled and just stared at each other before both going red. I should probably go" you blushed "but i’ll be back in 3 days for our date?". Huan still couldn’t believe that sentance but nodded "yes, 3 days". You blushed staring at him and Huan froze, did you expect him to kiss you again or something? He barely had enough confidence the first time he didn’t think he could do it a second time. But was he supposed to initiate something now you were leaving? As you started leaning towards him Huan panicked even more unsure what to do when you kissed him but you just hugged him. "Thank you again for the painting it’s the nicest present anyones ever given me" you told him. Huan blushed and hugged you tighter "it’s no problem". You smiled pulling away and looked at him “I have to go...my dad”. Huan nodded leading you to the door “of course, thanks for coming all this way”. “I’m glad I did” you smirked and Huan nodded “I am too”. You eyes lit up and you grinned “bye Huan” you smiled softly ghosting his hand with your own before walking away. Huan stared after you until you’d gone and then collapsed against his door frame. He couldn’t remember being this excited about a social event in years and still couldn’t belive this had just happened. He actually wouldn’t mind thanking Wei and Wing for this, they deserved it. 

---

So this is supppppper long and maybe odd considering how little screen time Huan got in Lok but idk what happened!! I got major Huan feels suddenly and started writing and this appeared and now i’m low key in love with Huan. Ow well, thats another Beifong to add to the list

[ratingtheframe]

So 2020 sucked... but the films didn’t! The top twenty films of 2020 (in my humble opinion).

AT LAST. This godforsaken year is over and as we venture into a new year, let's hope and pray that the art’s industry finds a way to build themselves back up again, in a way that is safe and necessary for them to bring us the entertainment we so crave. It has been a crazy and unprecedented year for the film industry, a year that it has never seen with losses of an estimated $5 Billion at the end of March. Some of the most anticipated blockbusters of all time had to be put on hold and postponed for hopefully next year with No Time to Die, A Quiet Place II, Wonder Woman 1984, Dune and Black Widow being a slim few that never got onto a silver screen this year. However, there is no reason to fret or relinquish the loss film has had this year, as hopefully next year once we’ve had a better understanding of this virus, these films along with many others will have their audience. Amongst the postponed releases, many films have been resilient to the virus and still managed to gain a spot in the cinema despite the circumstances. 

Christopher Nolan’s Tenet was the only multi-million dollar film to be released this year and even though the risk of release could have meant nothing for the film, it still managed to rake in a staggering $361 million, an expected profit for a film of its size. However, despite the film's success, Nolan made it clear that this shouldn’t be taken lightly and that the safety of film consumers comes before the profits themselves. 

Even though we will have to be more cautious in the cinema, films will return, once we have regulated safety measures in cinemas and film festivals to ensure that customers can feel comfortable. For now, HBO has planned to put many releases from Warner Bros. straight onto its streaming platform as well as in the cinema next year, in an attempt to prevent the spread of COVID whilst still being able show the films we’ve been craving. There’s no telling what next year will bring, what the Oscars will look like or if filming for the next Batman film will ever end, however it's clear to see that the film industry has shown resilience amongst this pandemic and will continue to do so in years to come, no matter the challenges.

Here are twenty of the films that made it to the cinema (or streaming platforms) this year, that proved the durability of the film industry during this time. 

20. Tenet directed by Christopher Nolan 

We can all agree that Chrisopher Nolan’s Tenet should be handed the award of Most Confusing Yet Entertaining Film of the Year, or ever made in fact. The sci-fi epic adventure that sees its lead (named “the protagonist) travel back in time and then forward in time and then back in time again (?)... yup, I didn’t get it either, but I’m not the only one seeing as Robert Pattinson who played alongside John David Washingston hadn’t a clue what was going on either. And he was in the film. However, despite the film's confusion, it doesn’t make it a bad or “lazy” film, for every aspect of this film from lighting, sound design, casting, direction, stunts WAS ON POINT and those elements are truly what sets this film apart. The story may have been perplexing but at least there was one. 

19. Nomadland directed by Chloé Zhao

It is such a shame that Nomadland may not get the audience it deserves due to the COVID-19 pandemic as it is a truly moving and rich film. The Nomads are a group of real Americans who’ve hit the road in various mobile homes after the Great Recession in 2008 caused millions to be homeless and redundant. Frances McDormand plays Fern, one of these Nomads and child of the road whilst the film follows her simple, yet melancholy journey across Western America.  Chloé Zhao has been tipped several times for an Oscar with Nomadland after winning the Golden Lion at this year’s Venice Film Festival. Let’s hope that if this goes onto the Academy Awards, Nomadland will find the audience it so craves. 

18. Uncut Gems directed by the Safdie Brothers 

YES, Uncut Gems came out THIS YEAR, which is an insane thought seeing as I saw the film in a packed cinema before it was released onto Netflix. The Safdie Brothers, Josh and Benny brought us Uncut Gems this year, a declining tale of a man’s test with fate and the many many second chances he gets at life, only to f*** all of them up. Adam Sandler plays Howard Ratner, a pawn shop owner and frequent gambler. This is Sandler’s best ever role and the multifaceted, gritty work of the Safdie Brothers (Heaven Knows What, Good Time) really brought something brilliant out of him. 

17. The Half of it directed by Alice Wu

The Half of It wins the Most Surprising Film of the Year. A highly credible film directed by Alice Wu, The Half of It is EVERYTHING we want and need in this world. In fact, it’s everything we kind of already have in this world, but hardly see on screen. Non white leads, queer non stereotyped relationships, unpredictable endings; The Half of It was an all rounder for me. Some may roll their eyes at the amount of diverse elements to the film and see it as a way of gaining brownie points, but why does that have to be a thing? Why can’t having active and authentic representation across all films just be normal rather than political? If anything, it should be encouraged. The story was brilliant (and made me cry) as it had so many layers to it as well as the characters.

16. 7500 directed by Patrick Vollrath

Definitely the wildcard of this list, 7500 is an Amazon Studios film starring Joseph Gordon Levitt. I’ll admit, my hopes weren’t high, but after taking the time to watch this film I was truly blown away. And who KNEW Joseph Gordon Levitt could be so deep and in tune with his emotions on screen. He plays a pilot whose plane gets hijacked mid flight. There. Enough said. I could hardly BREATHE throughout this film in apprehension of what was going to happen next.

15. Kajilionaire directed by Miranda July

2020 thus far has been the best year for female filmmakers. From Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Josephine Decker’s Shirley, Rose Glass’ Saint Maud and Miranda July’s Kajilionaire, a clear cut foundation has been carved effortlessly for female filmmakers this year. Miranda July’s Kajilionaire especially rocked my senses a little as I saw so much unfamiliarity yet beauty within this film. A simple storyline that follows Old Dolio (Evan Rachael Wood), a young woman trying to feel more connected with her parents. A certainly bittersweet tale that has this rose tinted like vibe to it that attaches itself to the visuals and music of the film, that make everything feel light and playful. This contrasts well with the story itself as being sad and melancholy, further proving the fact this film is more than face value. Face value films have never gotten us anywhere and its films that go beyond entertainment that truly last in the industry. 

14. Bombshell directed by Jay Roach 

Bombshell is a PERFECT title for this film; a film that left me angry, sad and questioning the immorality that is still prevalent in the mostly male dominant society we live in. Charlize Theron, Margot Robbie and Nicole Kidman (best trio ever) star as three news anchors on Fox news whose lives are brutally torn apart when the Head of Fox News, Roger Ailes is accused of sexual harassment on many different occasions by female members of the workplace. Despite the silence being now broken, these three women still face a whole load of other problems that come in speaking up against a powerful, white and rich male. Threats of permanent job losses, victim blaming and a weak image are the consequence of speaking up about sexual assault as a member of Fox news. The brand itself has an incredibly misogynistic view of women and continues to have an idealised image of how women should be on the news with those working at Fox actually admitting it brings in viewers. Women with tons of makeup and dresses shorter than is comfortable is Fox news and Bombshell went above and beyond exposing this scandal that truly shook American broadcasting forever. 

13. Borat Subsequent Movie Film directed by Jason Woliner 

Borat Subsequent Movie Film wins the award for Most Jaw Dropping Film of the Year, as its protagonist and creator Sacha Baron Cohen, went above and beyond to show us the true dark depths of America. Ballsy, outrageous, jaw dropping, scandalous; every bold word can be used to describe this film and the lengths it went to get right to the heart of American society. The ugly heart. By now you should be aware that the ex president’s attorney was shoved right into the firing line after he was taken into a hotel bedroom by a reporter who happened to be an actor. Rudi Gulliani was left red faced after Borat bursts into the hotel room proclaiming the young reporter is his daughter, with Gulliani still unaware the entire outrageous event had been caught on camera. And not just any camera. A MOVIE camera. A true triumph in free speech and comedy, Borat Subsequent Movie Film will live on forever as the most outlandish film there is.

12. Miss Juneteenth directed by Channing Godfrey-Peoples 

A real eye opener into current American society using a touching story between mother and daughter as a backdrop. Turquoise is a single mother struggling to get by and support her daughter Kai through the Miss Juneteenth pageant, held annually in Fort Worth, Texas. A real competition, the Miss Juneteenth pageant promises one lucky young woman of colour a full scholarship to a black historical college of their choosing. Turquoise desperately wants this for her daughter as it’ll give her the opportunities in life she never had. A truly moving and authentic film, this scored 100% on Rotten Tomatoes which is a highly impressive and deserving score.

11. The Trial of the Chicago Seven directed by Aaron Sorkin

Aaron Sorkin’s lyricism in words was again brought to us on screen this year with his depiction of the Chicago 7 (eight if you count Bobby Seale); seven men who were accused and put on trial for eliciting the Chicago riots of 1968. When in actuality, the police themselves had more to do with riling up the protestors than anyone else, even pushing a crowd of protestors through the front window of a restaurant to make it seem like they had vandalised the property. If anyone was going to make such a film, Sorkin would be the one to do it as with any event or idea he covers, Sorkin’s words as a writer MAKE YOU CARE. Even when you had no recollection or understanding of something, the way Sorkin depicts these events on screen has you absorbed into the story till the last second. An incredible and powerful story and a film that I could constantly go back to in order to learn about the injustices of American politics.  

10. The Devil All the Time directed by Antonio Campos 

I feel like The Devil All the Time still hasn’t got the recognition it deserves. There is something incredibly powerful and priceless about having a group of exceptionally talented people come together to create something for screen. This film wins Best Casting of the Year (if you don’t count Dune) as the likes of Tom Holland, Robert Pattinson, Eliza Scanlen, Sebastian Stan, Bill Skarsgård,  Mia Wasikowska, Harry Melling, Riley Keogh, Jason Clarke and Haley Bennett graced our screens in this dark and ominous tale. Any story that is set in a small town and is about stories interweaving is bound to be interesting and thought provoking in it’s telling, with this adaptation being no different. The star of the show was Robert Pattinson’s thick Tennessee accent along with his clean yet filthy character interpretation of a perverted priest. Not one line in this film was thrown away and every single moment held a weighty tension, further confirming to us each character’s downfall by the end. An amazing adaptation and something you will reeeeeally enjoy.

9. Soul directed by Pete Docter 

What was supposed to be Pixar’s second release of the year, Soul is Pixar’s most highly executed film to date. The amount of detail and care the animators and creators of Soul had taken to this picture is INSANE; insanely beautiful. With the black community going through so much this year, having something like Soul be put out to audiences shows support of this ever changing and growing movement. Even though having black representation on screen isn’t on the top of everyone’s priority list, it’s still important that the effort is there in order to really show what the world is like on screen and to cater to more audiences. Soul itself had everything; diverse, three dimensional characters, a clear and heart warming story and comedic, uplifting points that only strengthened the important message of this movie; life itself.

8. The Lighthouse directed by Robert Eggers 

Again, another film that came out right at the beginning of the year, Robert Egger’s The Lighthouse was a whole new world that we had never seen before. Shot on a Panavision Millennium XL2 using a lense from the 1930s and black and white film, The Lighthouse was a decrepit, eerie and brilliant movie to watch throughout. It just makes me satisfied as a viewer when a director not only creates a film, but creates one that is so beyond anything we’ve ever seen and could likely have been made in an entirely different era altogether. Robert Pattinson KILLED IT in his role as a surly drunken sailor alongside Willem Dafoe, whose Irish accent was enviable. Overall a highly executed film that exudes brilliance and a creative mind.

7. The Hater directed by Jan Komasa 

I would say The Hater is the second wildcard on this list. It’s a Polish drama that hasn’t had a lot of rep in the media, however, this doesn’t detract from the film’s execution and drama. A real downfall story that sees a jealous ridden man go from a media intern into illicting terrorism. Like, HELLO how does one go to such an extreme? The only way to find out would be watching the film...The film really spoke to the dangers of social media and the ease of getting someone to insight violence onto someone else, all through a computer. My mouth was hanging on the floor during several moments of this film and I can 100% guarantee the Netflix film will have the same affect on you.

6. La Belle Époque directed by Nicolas Bedos 

La Belle Époque (or “The Good Times”) wins the award for Most Heart Warming Film of the Year. A surprisingly unique concept that follows a man trying to relive the best moments of his past after his wife wishes to divorce him. A company that specialises in creating your past memories offers him the opportunity to go back to the time when he and his wife first met, using actors, set design and music to recreate the moment. The French film emits a strong sense of nostalgia throughout with brilliant music and set design. It’s just one of those films that heavily expresses the idea of “what if” within a film whilst answering it boldly through its unique story.

5. Ema directed by Pablo Larraín 

Ema took me a few days to fully absorb and appreciate as an experimental film, rather than one with a clear cut narrative. It's a film that expresses an idea, a feeling as opposed to a story which is completely okay and doable in this day and age. Ema is a liberating, freeing and psychedelic world of a film, with the message of the film being wrapped up in Ema’s attitude as a woman and the way she sets fires to things wherever she goes. Literally, as the opening sequence is of her setting alight a basketball hoop. There is some strong, vivid imagery within this and the MUSIC...definitely the best sound track I’ve heard this year. Ema’s in my top five for its uniqueness, rawness and the weird sense of liberation it gave me after watching it.

4. Saint Maud directed by Rose Glass

Probably the biggest breakthrough film of the year and despite the pandemic, Saint Maud certainly got the rep it deserved. An entirely new perspective of horror was brought to use in troves in the form of this Irish film created by first time director Rose Glass. I cannot express how brilliant and revolutionary Saint Maud was for its simplicity, story and filmmaking techniques. An ambitious and all round brilliant film that sits prettily in my top five films of the year.

3. Portrait of a Lady on Fire directed by Céline Sciamma

Portrait of a Lady on Fire wins the award for Best Foreign Language Film and it still hurts to think it never even made it to the Academy Awards this year. One of the most moving and earthy films that I’ve seen this year, Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a slow, sensual and ambiguous picture that shows a love story between two women through the form of art. I became quite obsessed with the music of Antonio Vivaldi after seeing this as the time period and music intertwined really well in this film. Exceptionally made and incredibly raw, Portrait of a Lady on Fire went straight for the heart in this film by also putting the grievances of love at the forefront of this film. 

2. Parasite directed by Bong Joon Ho 

You are probably extremely bored and tired of hearing of the success of Parasite as a breakthrough picture, however there are an abundance of reasons for it! Winner of Six Academy Awards including Best Picture, Parasite really pulled the rug beneath the Academy Awards feet and certainly proved that no matter your race, it's the story that sells and that will bank you an Academy Award. A wonderfully crafted story, one that could have been found in theatre or even opera and those sort of structured narratives are what really grab people’s attention. 

1. Another Round (Druk) directed by Thomas Vinterberg 

And finally, my favourite, Most Enjoyable Film of the Year had to be without a doubt, Thomas Vinterburg’s Druk, which I had the pleasure of seeing at the BFI London Film Festival this year. The theatre-like structure of a narrative has been implemented seamlessly into this film and even if structure means nothing to you, you can feel when a film has been crafted differently to bring about a dynamic and earthy narrative. I’ve previously watched two films of Vinterberg’s; Festen and The Hunt and even though those two films hold a high rating, Druk is definitely Vinterberg’s best film yet. Extremely entertaining whilst also carrying a rather dark side to it, Vinterberg sells you the best and worst of two worlds whilst exposing the effects of alcohol consumption. 

And that’s it! 2020 in films! If you agreed or disagreed with anything on this list or think something else should’ve made the list that came out this year, be sure to leave me a comment on this post or via instagram on @ratingtheframe. It’s crazy to think that this obsession of mine turns two years old next year and there are still so many amazing pictures to be seen! And as always, you will find each and every one of them right here on @ratingtheframe.tumblr.

Bring on 2021!

[thegoddamnfangirl]

Ditz

Pairings: Damian Wayne x Reader

 Requested by anon: Hello there! Could you do Damian Wayne x Reader where the reader is super sweet and cute and stuff but she's also really ditzy so everyone (including the rest of the Batfam) thinks she's dumb and it's weird, because Damian hates being around dumb people, but then they find out that she's actually like a genius and she just comes across as ditzy like that because she just really loves being around people. By the way, I love love LOVE your writing!! Every story of yours I read makes me so happy

Thank you so much, anon! I hope you’re safe and healthy, wherever you are. I’m sorry I’ve been inactive forever, and this fic isn’t my best work, I’ve gotten really rusty- but it was really a pleasure to write this for you, and I’m glad you enjoy my fics!

“Father, I’ll be having a friend over today,” said Damian, looking keenly at Bruce across the dinner table.

Bruce looked up from his food, a bit confused.

“A friend that isn’t Jon?” he asked.

“No, she’s a classmate, she- don’t look at me like that Father. Stop. Stop smiling, it’s uncomfortable!” said Damian, scowling.

“What? I’m not smiling!” said Bruce, with humor in his voice. “It’s just, it’s good, I’m glad you’re making friends. I’ll tell your brothers to not walk around in their uniforms.”

Damian shrugged in response, hoping his father hadn’t noticed the slight redness in his cheeks.

---

“WhoOP-“

“(Y/N)!” sighed Damian, grabbing her by the arm as she half-fell over the threshold.

“Sorry!” she laughed. “I’m hyper when I’m excited.”

Damian didn’t respond. Not letting go of her arm, he led her into the manor, towards one of the more favorably furnished drawing rooms (there had been several incidents some others, including someone absolutely ravaging one of the stiffly furnished ones, and one of the sitting rooms being converted into a slobby, messy, caffeine scented “family room”).

“I’d take you to my room but I’m afraid my father wouldn’t permit it,” he sighed.

“That’s alright, Dami,” she responded, smiling at him. “Is everything good with you and your dad?”

“As good as it ever was,” responded Damian, glancing quickly around the room as they entered it. Then he lowered his voice, and said-

“I’ve found that it makes him…warmer, somehow, if I engage in typical adolescent activities. It’s…nice, that way,” he said, his voice catching on the last part as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was saying.

She squeezed his arm, eyes bright.

“I’m glad. See, I told you- with family, all it takes is effort.”

“Yes, well-oh,” Damian stopped mid-sentence, his eyes on the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Bruce, with a small smile at (Y/n).

“Oh, that’s okay! I mean, hi- hello, Mr. Wayne-“ (Y/n) said, or rather jabbered, words tumbling one on top of another as she got up to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/n). Damian-“ said Bruce, looking towards his son, “I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be flying over to Metropolis tonight, but Dick-“ he was interrupted by a giggle from (Y/n), which he chose to ignore “-will be coming over to stay till I get back. No staying out too late, okay?”

“Yes, Father,” said Damian, shooting (y/n) as amused look.

“Anyway, (Y/n), it was great to meet you, I have to get going-“ Bruce began, just as (Y/n) backed up a little and rammed into a small side table.

“WeLP-oh my god, I’m sorry,” said (y/n) as the table fell over. Luckily, there was nothing breakable on it.

Bruce made sure, in a few short words, that (Y/n) was okay, and left the two to their own devices, wondering how it was that Damian had not uttered a single disparaging remark the whole time.

---

“Damiiiii I’m hoooome~” sang Dick, deliberately adopting the high, jaunty tone of voice he knew Damian hated so much.

The manor seemed pretty much empty, so Dick checked all the training rooms, and then he checked the Batcave. No sign of his little brother.

He was just about to call Damian when he heard a resounding thud from upstairs, followed almost immediately by a clang.

It sounded like it came from the little attic room that Damian would use as a studio, so Dick rushed directly upstairs, and shoved the door open to see-

A girl around Damian’s age, sprawled on the floor, her legs dripping with white paint. She was laughing, and a large can of paint was lying toppled on its side. Damian was looking at the girl with a mixture of exasperation and- amusement?

They both immediately looked up when Dick entered the room, and the girl hastily got to her feet.

“Hi!” she said, in an excited, chirpy tone. “I’m (Y/n), and you must be…Dick?” She extended her hand, which Dick took without thinking.

“Oh, shiz, sorry!” exclaimed (Y/n)- her hand was covered in paint, and now, so was Dick’s.

“Heh, that’s alright, kid,” said Dick, slowly processing the scene. Damian’s eyes were set intently on his face.

“Yeah, I’m Dick, you’re a…friend? Of Dami’s?” he asked.

“Yeah!” she nodded, previous embarrassment forgotten as she began to bounce a little on her heels. “Damian’s doing a portrait of me,” she added.

“That’s really nice of him,” Dick said, looking at Damian with incredulity. “I mean it, (y/n)…Damian isn’t nice at all, not ever!”

“Shut up, Richard,” growled Damian. “I need to get back to work.”

Dick laughed, with (Y/n) smiling as she assumed her position on a small stool in front of Damian’s easel, which faced away from the door.

---

Sometimes, when you really, really, like a person, you don’t want them to meet your family, or your family to meet them. The smaller your family, the larger the chances that this person will quickly be exposed to your entire family, but with a large family, you may hope to keep them hidden from some members, at least for a little while.

Damian hoped. He hoped in vain.

“She visited you? She visited you? Why?” hollered Damian.

“Relax, I liked your sister! She’s not a woman of many words, but she seems really nice,” said (Y/n), sincerely.

“Cassandra is not nice,” grimaced Damian. “She’s feral.”

“Damian, that’s not nice,” said (y/n), leaning forward in her armchair.

It was one of those really nice days when everyone was busy in their own thing, and Damian and (y/n) had a little privacy in a sitting room.

“Besides, Jason seems really funny,” (y/n) added.

Damian sat up straight in his chair, eyes flashing.

“Todd came to see you? WHY?”

“He was with Cass when she came over to give me the book I left at your place!” said (y/n). “I like your siblings, I really do.”

“That’s because you don’t know them,” whined Damian, knowing full well the real reason why Cassandra and Todd went to (y/n)’s.

Todd would call it reconnaissance. Damian called it being a busybody.

---

Within less than a month, through some excuse or the other, (Y/n) had been exposed to his whole family. The whole nuthouse. All Damian really needed at this point for his mother to go barging into her room at some ungodly hour and take her for blackmailing him or something, and the picture would be complete.

Damian’s real problem wasn’t what (y/n) thought of his family. It was more the way they had taken to teasing Damian, randomly whispering her name through the comms, asking him about his giiiiiirlfriiiend, someone (and he suspected either Stephanie or Todd) had even left an elaborately embroidered handkerchief with her initials on his bed. Even his father had joined in the joke, occasionally asking him if he needed any “tips” and whether he wanted to be taken to the jewelry store to scout for rings?

It was insufferable.

What bugged him the most, however, was the little talk he had had with Richard.

“Damian…listen. You really seem to like this girl,” Dick had said, making himself comfortable on the bed Damian had just made.

Damian had just shrugged.

“Look, I know what it’s like to really have a crush on someone, but she’s been coming over a lot, and before you start to get serious, I want you to think about how much you really like her. Do you think you’ll, erm, continue to like her?” Dick had asked, a little confused as to how to ask Damian the awkward question.

In spite of himself, Damian had asked what he meant.

“(Y/n) is very sweet,” Dick said, “but she’s a little, she doesn’t really seem your type.”

Damian had stared, as if waiting for him to continue, and he did.

“She’s adorable, Dami, but do you really have fun with her? I mean, not that kinda fun, just, I know if you’re going to seriously like someone they need to challenge you, they need to be sharp and-“

“Are you calling her dumb?” Damian had snapped, feeling his defensive hackles rising.

“No! It’s just, she seems a little scattered and, I dunno, ditzy? I know for a fact that you’re intolerant of anything but the very best in people, both intellect wise and strength wise.”

Damian had just sighed. “She’s much smarter than she looks.”

----

Tim and Bruce were staring.

(Y/n) was sitting cross legged on the carpet, flipping through a case file they had told her Richard was “going through for work, consulting a bit for the GCPD while he took some time off of his job”.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” she said, a goofy smile on her face as she put the file back on the central table.

She had come over to see Damian, and had been talking to Tim and Bruce whilst she waited for him. She’d gotten curious about the case file lying on the table, looked through it, and-

“She might have solved it,” Tim murmured to Bruce, half wondering how he had missed the subtle details (y/n) had picked up.

Bruce looked thoughtful.

“You seem quite observant, (y/n),” he said. “Would you like to give your input on some of the other cases we have? It would be quite helpful for the, uh, the GCPD to gain some fresh perspective.”

“Oh, sure,” chirped (y/n), entirely oblivious to all the surprise she had occasioned. “Let me just-“

She stood up sharply, forgetting that she had sidled almost entirely underneath the extended arm of a hardwood chair.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, rubbing her head where she’d hit it. “Damn, I need to stop being so hyper,” she grumbled, earning a look of amusement from Tim.

Damian was quite pleased to hear that all of Dick’s previous doubts had been removed, and that the GCPD has received a sudden influx of invaluable input helping them solve at least two cases gone cold.

------

Okay, so i got a little awkward at the end. I’ll get it with practice, though.

Requests are open! Give me something to do y’all I’ll be in complete lockdown for a few more weeks! 

Also, for Damian x reader fics, could you guys please specify in the request roughly what age you’d want him to be around?

[cloudmyweather]

A Small Guide to Munimún’s Discography: Part one, the high school years

First of all, hi. I’m Muni, also known as moonlordress. I used to have a blog here, but then I migrated to Twitter after adult content was outlawed. I did however miss the efficiency of this website in hosting multimedia content... so after a couple of years, here we are again. The old blog still exists, I think, but I forgot the password and don’t feel like retrieving it.

So... fresh start. If you’ve never heard of me (first of all, how did you find me?), you might be delighted at all the new content I’m willing to post here, along with new stuff, of course. I want to treat this place as a sort of ongoing zine, which is what Tumblr was meant to be for anyway. I mainly involve myself with the arts of drawing, painting and music composing. On very rare occasions I also write.

I’d like to first take my time to disclose about my musical output (most of it available for free at this cool link). At 23 years old, I’m still too young to really make any sort of masterpiece, as I am mostly self-taught and don’t really play any instruments. If you’re put off by the fake digital sounds, I don’t blame you - but I feel I’ve gotten better at taking advantage of the aesthetic.

I’ve made music on FL Studio for almost 10 years now. My first experiments were mostly misguided attempts at creating rock music without any real instruments or band members - I am a tad embarrassed by the results, after all who wants to listen to music by a 14-year-old, but I feel like I’ve struck gold a couple times... I’ve always wondered if I could remake some of this music with my current sensibilities.

Anyway, the name of my project at the time was World Destroyance, also the name of my first album before I just decided to use my real name (also a bad decision). I hate all the music on that album and don’t currently know if there’s any way to listen to it. That was done in 2012, I’m pretty sure. Also in 2012 I made two more albums, slightly more interesting than the first - Magic (an album about My Little Pony characters, although instrumental), and [untitled] (a kind of self-portrait). I refer to these three as “the 2012 albums” and I don’t advise anyone to seek them out, but I’m sure they’re out there in a Mediafire link or something. I don’t remember deleting those.

WORLD DESTROYANCE – mid-2012 MAGIC – August 2012 [untitled] – December 2012

In late 2012/2013 I started getting very bitter and angry about real things, instead of the things children get angry about. I had been falling in love for some time, and hating every minute of it. I was rapidly losing all self-confidence and my self-esteem to this day has not recovered. So naturally my musical ideas were getting more abrasive. I learned about distortion effects but not how to use them. And most importantly, I discovered the Residents. The result was Friendly. I don’t particularly like it either, but I think this is where my stuff got deliberately weird instead of unwittingly.

FRIENDLY - July 2013

Highlights: “The Screaming Worm”, “Life after Death”, “Susan’s Story”

After a couple smaller projects (coupled with my questioning of the idea that anyone should even bother to hear what I make), I finished Tolerance Songs in 2014. I was still in love, but this was the first album I actually considered to be “good.” Still many embarrassing moments. I also started using vocals here and there. I never really liked my voice though.

TOLERANCE SONGS – July 2014

Highlights: 

“Hey There”, “Song for Samantha”, “Gingerbread Lovesong”, “Bloodclot”

After a while I decided that five albums and a couple Leftovers was enough material for a “best of” compilation. Just so people wouldn’t have to sit through such immature music to get to the interesting stuff. So I put together Harsh Reality in 2015, drew up a digital booklet as a gift for downloaders, and from then on decided to focus on simply making a lot of music and eventually collecting it when enough material surfaced.

also: LEFTOVERS – September 2014 Collecting unused stuff from the year spent making Tolerance Songs. The Tolerance Songs sessions... how professional that sounds... and neat!

HARSH REALITY – October 2015

Collecting highlights from the first five albums + misc. projects. Around 3 years’ worth of some autistic teenager’s bored meanderings on break from high school.

also: CANCEROUS DEVOTION – November 2014 Soundtrack for a school project. Secretly a love album.

YOU ARE MY SWEETEST DREAM – July 2015 Mini-album meditating on “Sweet Dreams are Made of This” for some reason. I just wanted to be a Resident.

All of this with virtually no audience in sight. Talk about wasting time (and words).

Continued on part two.

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

-

“So are you in, Jimin?”

“I’m in,” he chuckles at your little proposal. His laugh retains its charm, even through the phone. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous of that charming quality of his. “But can I ask you something, Snow?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?”

“To prove a point,” you say. “You also have something to prove, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at my concert that night despite being well aware of how the public and media would react.”

“Right… Sorry about that, by the way.” You hear the sorrow still beating him up in his lowered voice. It makes sense that he feels the need to blame himself for all the backlash you received, but he shouldn’t have to feel guilty when all he wanted was a little freedom as a normal human being and not as the perfect idol the world makes him out to be.

“It’s fine, Jimin. We may be glorified idols at the top of the industry, but there are a lot of things we have no control over.”

“True… Sometimes it seems like the only way to escape the judgment of the public eye is to hide behind a mask, huh.” Jimin sighs. “But we can’t always live like that either.”

“Exactly.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone aside and pick up your guitar.

-

On your way to class, you’ve made a habit of checking jk.seagull’s blog for any updates on Witch Hazel, and you’re delighted when you find this new text post:

“it’s not done yet, but I’m planning on posting a new chapter this afternoon after class!”

To celebrate the occasion, you stop by your local coffee shop to pick up a special mocha with extra whipped cream. You’re already late for class after failing to hear your five alarms this morning anyway. And besides, maybe you deserve a little pick-me-up after all the writing you’d done the night before. For once, you feel pretty good about the direction you’re headed in.

Not even a scolding by your professor could ruin your mood.

“Oh, Y/N. How nice of you to join us,” your professor motions for you to take your seat as soon as you step foot into the art room. “I was just talking about how certain students have not been taking this class seriously as of late.”

She glances directly at you, along with your tablemates, Taehyung and Jungkook. “Sorry,” you mouth with a lack of sincerity, before taking a long sip of your mocha.

“And because of that,” the professor continues, “I’ve decided to move up the due date of our portrait project to tomorrow.”

A collective groan fills the room from the entire class, with the exception of those few lucky bastards who’ve already completed their project early. Once the class is dismissed, the scramble to actually get shit done begins. Even Taehyung opts to stick around as opposed to his usual obligations, and that speaks volumes.

As soon as your team relocates to one of the empty art studios nearby, however, it’s apparent that no one is really vibing with this project.

“So… what’s the assignment again?” Taehyung scratches his head. As much as you’d love to scold the boy for his lack of awareness of anything happening in art class, you haven’t been in the proper mindset to give the project any thought either.

“Something about drawing ourselves based on how others perceive us?” Jungkook yawns. “Or was it drawing each other’s portrait?”

“The first one, I think,” you say. “It doesn’t really make a difference when Jungkook’s gonna end up drawing Taehyung’s portion anyway.”

“True,” the boys say together. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your art class shenanigans, it’s that the more you get to know someone, the easier it is to understand them and their actions—even if they’re completely different from you like Taehyung.

“If that’s the case, let’s hurry up and let each other know how we perceive one another. I have a doubleheader later on that I’d really hate to miss,” Taehyung nods in satisfaction at his clever wording for what you presume to be back-to-back one night stands. “I’ll start: Y/N, there’s not much I know about you besides the fact that you’re unfriendly, but I think that’s intentional. Like you’re hiding a dark secret or something. Jungkook, if you weren’t so shy, I’m sure you’d get laid more often.”

“Let’s not sugarcoat anything,” you roll your eyes. “I would say you, Taehyung, abuse your charm to get what you want. You use sleeping around as an excuse to avoid responsibility. And you embrace it because you fear that that’s the only thing people will ever acknowledge you for.”

“I’m not usually a masochist, but I kind of like it when you roast me like that, Y/N,” Taehyung shrugs it off, though you know you’ve hit the mark. Everyone has a poker face, and Kim Taehyung is no exception. To take the attention off of himself, he throws an arm around his favorite art buddy. “Roast this guy next.”

You glance over at Jungkook who’s in the midst of adding to your roast on Taehyung. It’s interesting to see how differently he acts with Taehyung, with you, and with everyone else. The more he knows someone, the less he withholds. If he knew you more, you wonder what he’d tell you. “I agree that if Jungkook weren’t so shy, there’d be more potential for a lot of things, but-”

Buzz! Taehyung looks down at his phone. “Well, that’s my cue. Jungkook, Y/N, you know what to do~”

“Have fun at your doubleheader,” you wave off your incompetent teammate until he’s out of sight. “Should we be enabling him like this?”

“Probably not. But even I can’t say no to that charm of his.” Jungkook sighs as he pulls out a blank sheet of bristol paper. In what feels like an instant, several dots and lines transform into a general outline of Taehyung’s face. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen for his charm yet… unless…?”

“Look, I get the appeal of a smoothtalker who walks with confidence, but Taehyung really isn’t my type,” you laugh.

“Still, I’m a little envious of him.” Jungkook draws Taehyung a nice and natural wink. “Because he isn’t afraid to chase after what he wants.”

You want to tell the boy that he should chase after whatever it is he wants, but you know that’s easier said than done. After all, you know exactly how it feels to take that leap of faith, only to fall short before reaching the dream you so desired. So all you can do is nod and start working on your own portrait.

For about five whole minutes, you try to sketch out a decent upside-down egg shape for your head, but it always comes out a little lopsided or rough around the edges. Once you’ve got a little mountain of eraser shaving piling up, you decide it’s time to sneak a peek at Jungkook’s sketch to get an idea of how a well-seasoned artist draws a proper face.

What you see instead, however, is the boy staring back at your mountain of eraser shavings. You swear you hear a little pft come out of his mouth. The nerve.

“Hold your pencil like this,” he says, holding his own pencil with his pinky sticking out.

You replicate his grip, wiggling the pinky. “Is this some sort of weird pinky promise that artists do?”

Before Jungkook can even respond, your pinky is already linked to his. Funny how his finger curled around yours as if it were the most normal thing to do, but his burning cheeks say otherwise. You might’ve jumped the gun on this one.

After blinking at the empty pinky promise for a good three seconds, the boy finally lets go. “Use that pinky to steady your hand as you sketch.”

“Oh… right…” You feel a wildfire spreading across your own cheeks. Your dumbass somehow misinterpreted a drawing technique for something as childish as a pinky promise! Whether it’s because you’re flustered or just shitty at art, you fumble around to get your pencil on the paper. “…How do I do it again?”

Rather than trying to explain or demonstrate it to you, Jungkook motions for you to come closer. So you do. He takes your hand and individually sets each finger onto your pencil like a guitar teacher helping their student find the right chord position.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how gentle his touch is. Rather than forcing your fingers to conform to the conventional ways of an artist, he gives them the little push they need to find their own place along the length of the pencil—wherever is most comfortable for you.

Once you’ve got a good grip, Jungkook guides your pencil back to the canvas with your pinky just barely touching the drawing surface. “Now try drawing the outline of your face again.”

You do as you’re told and see immediate results. Although it’s not a perfect egg, your lines are noticeably smoother as if your skin had just been cleared. Jungkook gives you and your improved egg a thumbs-up, which you return with a thumbs-up of your own.

As you both resume your portraits, you can’t help but wonder if it was the tiny adjustment of how you held your pencil that made the difference. Or if it was Jeon Jungkook himself. You suppose only time will tell.

Several hours later, Jungkook has finished Taehyung’s portrait, you still need to color yours in, and an announcement goes off through the intercom.

“Due to the art auction charity event tonight, this building will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”

You groan. This is the worst case scenario for your damn group project. Because if you’re kicked out of the studio, you won’t have access to all of the necessary art supplies.

Unless…?

You exchange glances with the most devoted artist you know.

-

Jungkook’s apartment is not exactly how you imagined a weeby Snow stan’s habitat to look. There’s not a trace of Snow, nor is there a hint of magic anime girls floating around. But the one thing you did correctly predict is the amount of art scattered across the boy’s room.

Everywhere you look, you’re blown away by something different from the last. A painted city landscape detailed enough to be mistaken for an actual photo, a busy abstract pattern that makes the little wheels in your head spin, the familiar animation booklet of the flower in the snow, and an interesting little doodle that doesn't seem to scream “college art project”.

You try to make sense of what appears to be the chaos that ensues when the worlds of mathematics and music collide. Half of the basic times tables chart is replaced with values represented by music notes. The math nerd in you laughs when you see that a sixteenth note is correctly placed where two quarter notes align. Similarly, the music sheet on the other side of the doodle has a time signature of “75%” aka ¾ time aka the rhythm of a waltz.

“How old were you when you drew this one?” You point to the artwork titled Math Musician written in tiny font at the bottom corner next to the boy’s initials.

Jungkook chuckles, probably out of embarrassment. “I think I was ten.”

“Imagine being a talented artist at age ten. Can’t relate,” you clown yourself as you pull out your unfinished portrait from your art bag. In addition to looking “unfriendly”, your drawn face is rather lifeless and more so demonic for some reason. Hopefully some color will bring more dimension and life back into your flesh.

Just then, you realize you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“Umm, Jungkook?” you continue to stare down at your mistake. “I forgot to factor in your opinion of me into my portrait and now I just look unfriendly like Taehyung said.”

Jungkook tilts his head to get a better look at your monstrosity. His reaction could go one of three ways: he could laugh and give you a hard time about it, he could help you find a solution, or he could do both.

“You definitely nailed the ‘unfriendly’ part,” he snickers. “The RBF is strong with this one.”

“So you agree that I’m unfriendly?” On one hand, that would be good because you won’t have to revise your portrait if Jungkook shares the same opinion as Taehyung. On the other hand, you don’t want Jungkook to have that opinion of you.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I think if people looked beyond your unfriendly demeanor, they’d find someone very different.”

Before you can ask the boy to elaborate, he has already left and come back with the solution to your problem: fancy coloring markers.

“Since you already drew your appearance based on Taehyung’s opinion, you can color it in based on my opinion, if that makes it easier.” Jungkook hands you an assortment of markers, though a large portion of them are just different shades of one color in particular. Yellow.

Yellow was the last color you were expecting. You expected cooler and darker tones like blues or greys to match your ice queen personality. But yellow? Yellow, to you, has always meant bright and happy.

“Yellow is a happy color, isn’t it?” You start swatching each shade of yellow to see how they translate onto a white canvas. Your favorite shade out of the bunch is the soft pale one called Banana Milk, but that still doesn’t mean it suits you. To prove your point, you hold up your unfriendly demon portrait to your actual face and pout. “Do either of these faces look happy to you, Jungkook?”

“No, but they do look silly.” The boy cracks a smile at your humor. “In a good way.” The way he smiles so brightly plants a dangerous little seed in your head. Maybe the yellow is meant to represent not how he perceives your feelings, but rather, how he perceives his own feelings for you.

-

By the time evening comes, you’ve shaded in every inch of your canvas, completing your portion of the portrait project. You were right—the bright colors really did help bring life back into your face, and there’s less of a demonic aura about it now.

It also looks like one big contradiction: an unfriendly-looking face with a cheerful brightness around it. But that’s probably what Jungkook was referring to when he said you were very different beneath your unfriendly mask.

As you stretch out your arms and yawn, you peek over at the boy’s progress with his portrait. He stares down at his markers scattered across the floor, pushing his long locks out of his eyes, in search of his next color. From the small portion that he has colored so far, you notice a big difference between his portrait and yours. While your color scheme is bright and flashy like a star, Jungkook’s is soft and subtle to mimic his shy and lowkey personality.

“Use this,” you toss him the Banana Milk marker and pull a scrunchie off your wrist, “and this too.”

Jungkook places the pale yellow marker down right on the area he’ll color next. He doesn’t, however, know what to do with the foreign hair accessory in his palm. He just blinks at it.

With a dramatic sigh, you join the boy on the floor and take back the scrunchie. Like a puppy with long bangs poking its eyes, he lets you comb your fingers through his hair before tying a tiny sprout on top of his head.

“So this is what the world looks like,” he nods, as if his long hair had greatly hindered his view of the world in front of him. At the same time, he spots the finished product of your portrait. “Your self-portrait is a lot different from how I would draw you.”

“I would’ve appreciated a compliment for my hard work, but go ahead and insult me, Jeon.” You square up.

“Oh sorry. You did a phenomenal job, Y/N.” He doesn’t even try to put effort into masking his sarcasm as pity praise. But that’s expected in how he hasn’t missed a single opportunity to tease you and your shitty art. “It’s just interesting how differently others interpret us from how we interpret ourselves.”

Now you’re curious. “How would you draw me then?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook pushes his own portrait aside and starts digging around for a sketchbook with a blank page to spare. What possesses him to prioritize a drawing of you before his own portrait that’s due in less than 24 hours? You won’t allow that.

“I want to see it after our project is finished, please,” you pull his unfinished portrait back in front of him before making yourself comfy on the boy’s bed. “In the meantime, I’ll be reading you-know-what.”

“Smut?” The boy has a dirty mind, it seems.

“Unless Witch Hazel plans on getting a little smutty, no, I will not be reading smut.” With a hmph, you scroll through jk.seagull’s blog. “I wonder if the new chapter is posted yet.”

Jungkook, too, picks up his phone with wide eyes when he hears you say “new chapter”. Your hype and excitement around the fanfic must be rubbing off on him.

But unfortunately for you, there is no new post since the one you saw before class. You make a sad booboo face, but it isn’t the end of the world either. You’ll just have to reread the series from the beginning as you wait for either Witch Hazel to be updated or Jungkook to finish the project. Whichever happens first.

“Wait, I think the seagull guy just posted something.”

You’ve never jumped onto your phone so quick when Jungkook mentions the seagull guy. It isn’t a new chapter of Witch Hazel, but instead another small text post.

“sorry for not updating witch hazel today like i said i would!! i was bombarded with an unexpected art assignment;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;”

Your sad booboo face disappears. It seems you’re not the only one struggling to find balance between the arts and the need to satisfy others. “Isn’t it funny that he’s an art student too?”

“Haha, yeah…” Jungkook’s voice fades as he returns to his portrait.

“Maybe that’s why I like his work so much,” you say, clicking back to the very first chapter of Witch Hazel where Snow is helping out those who she had unintentionally scared away with her witchcraft. “He just gets it.”

“He gets what?”

With the biggest yawn, you shrug because you don’t really know how to put it into words. It just feels as though you and him think alike. And the thought of that is comforting enough to put you to rest until Jungkook finishes up the project.

“Y/N.” You hear things shuffling around in your half-asleep state. When you rise from mysterious pile of blankets on top of you, you see Jungkook putting his art supplies away and clearing space on the floor for him to camp out since you’ve apparently claimed his bed.

“Did you finish?” You check the time in the dimly lit room, and you’re shocked to see it’s past midnight.

“Yeah.” He pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and drops it into your palm. “Thank you for your service.”

“Keep it.” You slide the hair tie onto the boy’s wrist when you notice he looks a little different somehow. The hoodie he was wearing earlier is replaced with a plain white tee, and his torn jeans have become grey sweatpants. The unspoken reality of you stay over at the boy’s apartment is slowly becoming realized. “In exchange, I’d like to see how you’d draw me.”

“Already done,” he says, jogging to his desk and back to you with a page from his sketchbook in hand. “I drew you as a superhero.”

“What kind of superhero?” You kick the blankets off of you and reach for the drawing, but of fucking course, Jungkook pulls it back real quick just when you were about to snatch it. “Let me see!”

He keeps it hidden behind his back for a while until he gets a little too cocky and dangles it above where you’re sitting on the bed. It would be too predictable for you to reach for the hand with drawing in it, so you decide to aim for the other arm to trap him in.

But rather than latching onto his arm, you catch only a piece of the scrunchie around his wrist, causing you both to lose balance. Your back hits the soft bedding as you stare up into the eyes of the boy who just so happened to land on top of you. Aha, you finally figure out why he looked a little different after you woke up. No glasses, just his handsome brown eyes.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for figuring that out if you weren’t distracted by the drawing of you as a “superhero”. You were expecting something tough like the Avengers or Sailor Moon or even Izuku Midoriya. But instead you see someone who looks very much like yourself with a guitar and yellow flower crown.

“That’s not a superhero,” you say quietly.

“There are people who would feel otherwise.” Jungkook plops down next to you on his stomach.

“Like who?”

“Like people you share your music with.”

You bite your lip before rolling off the bed to run and get something. When you hop back onto the bed, you drop a pencil into Jungkook’s hand make him hold it with his pinky out like he had shown you earlier. You do the same with another pencil and link your pinky to his once more.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

[ravenforce]

Muse

Prompt: "Hey, could you write a Lena Luthor Alex Danvers (you can choose the one you like) where the reader is an artist (painter) and have been secretly in love with one of them and the reader paints about how they feel but Alex or Lena don’t know why they paint such things??"

Requested by: @pressolo23

Pairing: Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 1912

Warning/s: None, except it’s long.

A/N: Hey guys, you know the drill. I don’t own there characters. Also, all mistakes are mine. Sorry! I hope you guys like it.

***

Art has been a part of you for as long as you can remember. Growing up, you would much rather stay indoors and draw than go outside and play with other kids your age. You're an only child, your parents indulged your every whim; which in that case is just art materials. Your parents would even take you on a trip out of town sometimes, so you can, as they say, find inspiration elsewhere.

You just moved to National City. After your parents' early demise, you moved around a lot. Until recently, your art curator best friend, Markus, asked you to come to National City and work in his gallery as a resident artist. You agreed easily, you haven’t seen him after he moved away and what do you have to lose anyway.

Moving to National City proved to be a wise decision. You're putting some roots; you're renting an apartment a short distance from the gallery, you're getting along well with your employer and his other artists, you're also making friends outside of work. For the first time in a while, you feel like you're finally living again. Painting though is still a struggle sometimes. After your parents' accident, you struggled with your art. Even Markus noticed when he was viewing your latest piece.

"Don't get me wrong (Y/N), your technique is spot on but something seems to be missing," he mused while carefully studying your work.

You sighed, you know it's true. It doesn't have a soul.

He saw you looked down, he patted your shoulder and said, "you'll find it again, I know it."

***

A few days after, Markus announced that the following week a benefactor will be visiting the gallery and the studio to meet them. The gallery will host a small party. You're not new to these types of events, so you just shrugged and went back to your studio to try and rectify your current predicament. Of course, you know it's somewhat futile to force inspiration to come when it won't. So you just ended up sitting cross-legged in front of your last creation and staring at it.

The day of the party, you decided to play nice and dress up for once. You're wearing black trousers, a white oxford shirt, and black oxford shoes. You look nice, most of your friends you left at home would even say you look like your normal self if they can see you. When you stepped into the gallery that night, you expected the setup - typical. What you didn't expect was for the said gallery benefactor to be a beautiful, young woman. Probably the same age as you.

She looked up and met your eyes. Not to be cliche but when your eyes met, you felt like the wind has been knocked out of your lungs but the colors of the world that you've been missing for the past year has returned. You were speechless, you felt like you're on auto-pilot. Next thing you know you're standing next to Markus and he's introducing you.

"Ms. Luthor, this is one my artist, (Y/N)(Y/L/N)."

She offered her hand. "Hi, nice to meet you," she said.

You shook her hand. "Pleasure is all mine," you answered as confidently as you could.

“(Y/N)? You’re the one painting the dystopian cities? They’re inventive,” she said with a smile.

You fought down the urge to blush, but when someone as beautiful as Lena Luthor compliments your work, there’s no fighting it. “Ah! Yes, they’re an experiment though. A way to explore another subject and style,” you said politely.

“(Y/N) used to paint portraits,” Markus said.

“Used to?” Lena asked. You just smiled sadly at her.

***

The next morning, Markus was beyond surprised to see you at the studio bright and early. You’re already on your studio, priming your canvases and preparing your brushes and paints. “Are you gonna say hi, or are you just going to be creepy out there,” you teased him without looking up from your canvas. He let out a genuine belly laugh.

“I was actually trying to be polite. I didn’t want to risk disturbing you when you’re clearly on a roll,” he said. You turned towards him and rolled your eyes lovingly. He’s a really good friend, even after all this time.

“Get out of here, and don’t disturb me unless you’re dying,” you bantered back. He walked away from your studio laughing. After Markus left, you put on some classical music and started painting. You didn’t hear from Markus or anyone of the artist in-house artists until lunch time. They asked if you wanted to join them, which you politely declined.

It was two hours after lunchtime when you decided it’s time to get some food in you. So you washed your hands clean of paint, and the smell of turpentine. You pass by Noonan’s; it’s past lunch hour so there’s not a lot of people. Plus the smell of freshly brewed coffee is calling you. You were waiting for your takeaway when you heard someone call your name. You turned around and saw none other than, Lena Luthor. You took your food and coffee-to-go and walked to her table. She’s sitting next to a bubbly blonde woman, and a broody redhead.

“Late lunch?” she asked when you step beside their table. Everyone is watching you.

“Yes, I forget to eat when I’m in painting.”

“Oh, you paint! You must be (Y/N) from the art gallery. Lena talked a lot about you. I’m Kara, by the way, I’m Lena’s best friend,” Kara said, beaming from ear-to-ear. Lena bowed her head trying to hide her blush. Kara seems to be unaware of what she just said.

“I’m Alex, Kara’s sister. Lena’s less nosy friend,” the brunette said, clearly trying to diffuse Lena’s embarrassment. You chuckled.

“Yup, I’m (Y/N). I guess that makes me Lena’s new friend?” you said. They invited you to sit down and you ended up eating there too. Before parting ways, the Danvers sister invited you to game night the next day. You looked to Lena before agreeing.

“I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow at game night,” she said before leaving.

***

Since that day at Noonan’s, you have been accepted to Lena’s group of friends. You got closer over time. Close enough to visit her in the office with lunch, or drag her out early for dinner and drinks. Close enough that she invites you in her penthouse when she has a particularly bad day and doesn’t want to go out. Close enough for her to talk about her family history, her trauma, her pain, her insecurities. On these occasions, you would come back to the gallery and finish your newest collection.

Lena never questions why you never invited her to your place or your studio. She trusts you, but sometimes she wonders if you don’t want her there. One afternoon, you texted Lena if you can come by her office. When you arrived, she’s already on her sofa with her shoes on the floor.

“Wow, isn’t it a little too early to be slacking off, Ms. Luthor?” you teased.

She stuck her tongue out at you. And you marveled at how lucky to be witnessing this side of her. You sat next to her and handed her an envelope. She quirked an eyebrow before reaching out and opening it.

“Wow, (Y/N) your first solo exhibition in National City,” she said before she tackled you in a hug. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

***

Your exhibit was opening a week after you dropped the invitation to Lena’s office. Your exhibit features your works through the years, including a portrait of your parents, the landscapes from your home town, the dystopian cities series, and the one you’ve been working hard for all these past months. Lena arrived with Kara, Alex, Nia, and Querl. Markus met them at the entrance and guided them through the gallery. The group was pleasantly surprised to see some of them as a subject in one of your paintings - Alex laughing at Kara in-game night, Querl and Nia cuddling at movie night, Kara with a mouthful of potstickers.

“(Y/N) has a very good eye, and control to produce such intricate details using a brush,” Querl commented. Markus laughed.

“She’s been my friend since we were kids, (Y/N) has a talent remembering faces. It’s some sort of photographic memory,” Markus said. As they walked deeper into the gallery, the paintings have shifted from portraits to portraits of a woman’s back; sometimes hands, smile, and eyes.

“Guys, does this paintings look like,” Nia started.

“Lena,” Kara answered. She’s bouncing on her feet.

***

Lena is quiet while they continued to walk to the last room in the gallery. Everyone’s breathe caught. There are only three artworks in the room. On the left side of the room is Lena in her office; working in her computer with a very serious look in her face. On the right side is Lena laughing at game night. In the middle is Lena in her penthouse, wine glass in hand, without makeup and smiling softly. Lena is stack still in the entrance of the room, while your friends went in to inspect the paintings more closely.

“Don’t you like it?” you suddenly said beside her. She turned around so fast, you worried she might get whiplash. Your friends noticed you and started to congratulate you. You beamed at them.

“Why?” Lena asked quietly before she stormed out of the room. Your friends are confused, you’re not. Kara is already going after Lena, but you stopped her. You walked out of the room to follow Lena. She’s already out of the gallery when you caught sight of her. You jogged up to catch up to her.

“Lee,” you said as you caught her arm.

“Why?” she wants to cry. She thinks this is some prank. She doesn’t feel worthy of your attention, your affection. She doesn’t feel worthy of you. She’s out of breath from the power walking. You tucked a stray hair out of her face before looking in her eyes and said, “because Lee, you’re worth it.”

A sob escaped her before you pulled her into a hug. “In all the times, you’ve told me about your insecurities, I come back to the gallery to paint something about you that I love. And I love everything about you, Lee.”

She cried some more and hugged you back.

“I love you too,” she said after her tears died down.

[momo-de-avis]

Wordtober Day 14: Overgrown

I was a girl when I first developed my passion for painting.

Papa would take me to the Salon and I would marvel at the stacks of canvases hung on every wall, as high as the ceilings went. Though I tended to pay no mind to the classical portraits of ladies or the massive sculptures from the Académie, I became enthralled by the revolutionaries. The naturalists, that is. The men who left the city by train, taking their pochades to paint the natural elements, who captured the forests of Barbizon for posteriority with a curious, famished eye.

I wondered deeply about these matters until it was all I thought about. How does one develop the ability to capture something within just a small frame of time, only to compose it in timelessness and thus devote it to posteriority? And what frame of time could that be? In a passing moment, as we gaze upon nature, what instant, between every flicker of existence, will we decide to depict? Is it possible to freeze one single second and represent it in several instances of daylight, to pour onto a canvas all the beauty we see unravel before a simple leaf, a dense forest, the still waters of a lake, or even the skies?

The artist opens his pochade, sets up his easel, and looks up at the sky. And there, he sees it: one cloud hovering above hues of blue, dancing slowly to the wind’s cadence, cast in heavenly shadows of grey and white and yellow. Then, he picks up his brush and begins to paint, but time has already moved on—and he rushes to capture all those passing moments and lock them into the surface of the canvas.

That is probably why I was always more inclined to paintings of storms. There’s something daunting to de la Peña’s canvases, in the way he paints one vivid golden arm reaching out between the thick clouds to set the brown rocks alight, like hope cast onto something hopeless to come. And probably why I enjoy the desolation of Daubigny’s depiction of Les Sables-d’Olonne. In either of them, there’s something massive, something imposing. It seems that, instead of painting the present, with bits of the past scattered behind, they focused on the future instead. A storm to come; a confusion of grey and yellow hues that announce the incoming night.

There’s one particular painter that has fascinated me for long, though I’ve only ever seen reproductions on bulletins owned by collectors, and on one occasion, one poor copy by some petulant little student of some small studio. It’s called A Monk by the Sea and it’s by this widely ignored little painter from Prussia called Caspar David Friedrich. It’s a massive canvas, from what I’m told, containing just three things: the sea, the shore, and a monk.

If you look at the skies, you’ll see that, much like Daubigny’s, there’s a combination of darker hues with lighter ones, and though the brushwork is far more formal and even academic, you can outline the very rim of the clouds that hover above the horizon. But they contrast greatly with the darkness below, and it gives us the sense of a looming future, a daunting and terrifying one. A storm is coming. And on this bland, sandy-like shoreline, a solitary monk stands alone. He wears simple vestments, long and crisp, and he stares. He just stares at this storm that is slowly forming in the far horizon, at these gigantic clouds that announce nature’s violence, and he is… unafraid.

Burke called it the Sublime. That which is so daunting, so terrifying, it is, at the same time, beautiful. Something able to make us quiver on our legs in trepidation, yet we cannot but reach forth and touch it.

I always did have an inclination for the more mystical of paintings. Friedrich’s in particular touched me differently. It was, obviously, that element of the sublime, but something else. Like in Constable’s landscapes, and even some of Corot’s, it’s nature’s double meaning behind every piece of beauty we admire. Have a look at Couple Contemplating the Moon and see for yourself how those beautiful branches twist like tendrils in the backlight of the incoming night, and wonder: what will happen to this couple once night settles and they are left alone with this disfigured tree, in the complete darkness? Or why is the spectral image of the Abbey in the Oakwood so enticing we almost want to wait for night to settle and the soul of nature to dance in ghostly shapes before us—even when we’re terrified of it?

Yes, I have always loved the art of painting. But there was one problem to my passion, which is my gender.

Of course, I was not exactly barred from painting, I was just left with little options, and watercolours bored me to death. Even less the motifs my family insisted I painted, those proper of a lady: boring landscapes of sunshine over green grass and still lakes and swans and other birds of sorts—I despised it all.

I knew I had a talent, of course. And I knew how to use it, I just needed the right outlet. Watercolours certainly weren’t it—I wanted proper oils, and I wanted to wear long gowns and cover myself in paint, forgetting the entirety of this world who said painting outside, like the men who took the train to Barbizon, was improper.

In truth, my father minded little of it, and it was my sister who raised much a scandal, though it seems obvious today she was also quite envious. For she married none other than an artist.

She always was quite the uptight lady, however. Proper in every aspect, yes, but incredibly dull. Composed in her folded skirts and wearing hats in the summer, carefully adjusting her little laced glove as she opened her umbrella while her husband paddled a boat on the lake. She always did think of me as far too scandalous, but I minded little so long as I could paint—and it just so happened she married a painter.

Gustave wasn’t so much a master as he was an excuse. He proposed to tutor me and for a while Adolphine was eased by the thought that it was her husband the one to guide me, perhaps considering he’d steer me towards those boring watercolours she adored in order to tame my character. But I was better than Gustave. Though he dominated the technique, of course—for a classicist. For him, it mattered only that I copied the masters and understand a composition, study drawing, that mark of intellectualism of a true artist, and the colour comes after, for it is line that is truly scientific—I cared not for any of that! Colour is the true science, I told him! And screw what Adolphine deemed proper, have a look—I screamed at him—at Delacroix or Gros instead, and dare tell me colour is not scientific! How dare he, when even Vasari praised the science of colour for Titian and the Venetians!

Eventually, he gave in, as my condition—as he put it—appeared to his eyes as none but a whim, and perhaps the best thing to do was to simply answer to my fits of rage before they could develop into something… far worse.

I began to suspect at this point that my family saw me as ill and mad, and it would be no time until they threw me into a hospice. It was common of me to hear them muttering behind closed doors, whimpering like dogs, particularly Adolphone, who wailed: oh, my sister will be the disgrace of us, what shall I do?, she will not leave those paintings alone, and what things does she paint?, she never even shows me!

No, Adolphine, I never showed them to you. 

My sister couldn’t possibly bear with my creations, considering my inclination for the grotesque. I remember staring at a Fuseli once and thinking how beautiful his nightmares were. The little goblin-like creature that sat on that fair lady, slouched over her bed in slumber was, to my eyes, not her tormentor but her guardian. And I pondered about it—imagine having a guardian, a protector who watched over your dreams as you slept. So I began to experiment with these pictures that suddenly appeared in my mind at night—just twisting shapes of humanoid presences that always seemed non-threatening to me, and they danced to my will and bowed before me. Once awoken, I would run up to the attic without eating, open my pochade and begin to paint; I would lock the door as to not be interrupted and be cast into this strange world of oils and shapes that composed themselves before my eyes, and time would pass completely indistinct.

Every time I painted, time ceased to exist—or maybe I did. But whatever the truth, I existed outside of this world, and whatever there was to the streets outside my window, it was entirely gone. It was far more than a deep trance—I could feel an intense compulsion I had to answer, or else I’d grow mad! I had to rush up the stairs and begin to paint immediately—and I did. The moment my fingers touched the hardened wood of my brush or the easel, I would cease to exist and transform into something else.

On my canvases, shapes gained form under the dark hues of my nightly landscapes. Explosions of light in the skies, in gold and dull yellow, made way to something lingering in the corner, something large and imposing with wide jutting horns and claws raising above a prey below; and sometimes, the setting sun on a pasture cast an arm of pink and purple onto the skies, enough to illuminate an anthropomorphic silhouette that danced before a farmer, who prayed the Angelus alone; and then, the same creature could be seen upon the corner of a street of Paris as a flaneur tipped his hat back and looked up, right into its big, bulbous, bright white eyes.

There was another thing present in all: the creature, as it appeared, did not hide; it stood right in front of its prey and it gazed upon them in a moment of not doubt, but profound contemplation. And below the enormous hunter, the prey would look up in peace and silence, accepting of their fate, with not a hint of fright nor a bellow of horror. Much like the monk staring longingly at the incoming storm, alone, like a castaway, on an unknown sandy shore—contemplative, silent, peaceful.

When Gustave first saw my canvases he was shaken. I saw sweat pouring from his forehead and laughed in amusement as he moved frantically about the studio, and I could see how much he longed to grab hold of my paintings and destroy them but would not dare to do so. More: how much they frightened him. How he would draw near gently but there was a line he never crossed, invisibly traced on the floors, as he’d freeze on his quivering legs, eyes locked on the monster’s eyes, my monster, cold sweat pouring still as he breathed deep and heavy, and stuttered a compliment that never really came.

I knew he thought my paintings to be outstanding in technique and composition, it was the creature that terrified him, but that only made me feel more confident in my work. That was my creature, my creation, and it stared back at me as if I was its very own God.

It was around this time that I first heard about the disappearances, though I minded them not. Men and women snatched off the streets, to never be seen again, and mere rags from their clothes left behind.

Eventually, Gustave learned to be more at ease with my paintings, though he still would not dare to cross that invisible line he had placed between him and the paintings. Except one time.

He drew near very slowly, quivering at every step, and gazed deeply upon a small figure in the corner, a small man illuminated by a single strand of light coming from a street lamp as he looked up at the creature that stood tall on the left side of the painting, firm and steady on its legs. Something about him lured Gustave, and I watched curiously as his eyes drew away from the ambience of the painting to focus on that one lonely man.

And then, he said: “This man looks eerily similar to Hubert Leblanc.”

I learned later that Huber Leblanc was a frequenter of the Salon and an avid art collector known for being the major buyer of Gustave’s paintings, who seemed entirely disinterested in the revolutionaries of the Beux Arts and instead preferred the boring artworks of a much classical tone. He had even been gifted one of Adolphine’s terrible watercolours, which he treasured delightedly. But at the time, I thought nothing of it. I had never met this Monsieur Leblanc, had no interest in meeting him, merely heard my brother-in-law’s mention of his name and my sister’s adulation of his character, and sincerely cared not for him.

So I kept on painting. I locked the door of my studio and let the word fall into its own insignificance as I painted more and more of my beloved creature in all sorts of different settings: sneaking between the columns of the Palais de Tokyo as a woman gazed up in plenitude to accept her fate; lurking at the edges of the Île de la Cité, obfuscating the Notre Dame de Paris entirely, as an onlooker accepted his fate, stood frozen on the Pont de Saint Michel; standing on the roof of Les Halles, gazing down at an unsuspecting woman who raised her head with a basket of fish on her hand, her eyes meeting the creature’s, waiting placidly; a passer-by exiting the Théatre de L’Odéon, stood frozen in the middle of the Rue Monsieur-Le-Prince, as the monster awaited his arrival at the end of the intersection, an umbrella fallen from the victim’s hand as he watched the creature’s eyes and awaited his ending.

I was ravenous in my dedication. I ate little, for time passed and I saw nor heard a thing, and outside my door, the servants would leave trays of food that would go foul. My sister would knock on my door insistently, but I heard nothing. Whenever we did sit at the table for supper, she’d complain about my behaviour and leave a hint that perhaps I needed some assistance, but her implications angered me and I was driven into a fit of rage.

One afternoon, I heard my sister gasp and turned to find her pale and frozen on her chair as she folded a newspaper and threw it aside with a gesture of disgust. She placed the back of her hand carefully against her sweating forehead and closed her eyes as if she were about to faint, wailing between her heavy pants, as if stricken with a case of consumption—horrible, horrible!, she chanted; such a horrible thing this is, God have mercy on us all!

I picked up the newspaper and read the headline. Seven people had gone missing from the streets of Paris, and at last they had uncovered the body of two: torn to shreds, nothing but gnawed bone, their flesh gone, limbs scattered across the construction site of the Ópera Garnier, abandoned into a rush—a sight so gruesome it had caused several people to faint and be rushed to the doctor.

What struck me as odd, however, was the locations upon which these people had disappeared. A woman vanished from the Palais de Tokyo. A man snatched from the Pont de Saint Michel. An angler caught and taken from Les Halles, leaving behind a basket of fish. An umbrella left behind by an unsuspecting man gone from the Rue Monsieur-le-Prince.

I rolled up the paper and rushed up the stairs. When I opened the door, I saw them: those same locations, painted in hues of black and blue, and sometimes gold, as they told a tale of a person about to go missing, devoured by an enormous black creature that stalked them patiently through several Parisian landmarks. The umbrella left behind was there, fallen on the cobblestones to his side, as was the basket of fish on the angler’s hand.

So I wondered: could my creation be so spectacular it existed beyond my canvases?

It was at this moment that my door swung open and Gustave came running inside, cast into pallor and dabbing his trickling sweat with a white handkerchief he then placed inside his pocket. He ignored me, went straight to my paintings, and gazed upon the figures that lay there, waiting to be devoured alive by this beast, with peace and serenity—and again focused on the tiny little man who stood—I finally recognized—in the middle of the Place Dauphine.

He turned to me with eyes bulging in terror. “That is Hubert Leblanc,” he said. “He disappeared from the Place Dauphine two weeks ago.”

I laughed, unsure what other reaction to have, as he stood in frozen dread before me, unable still to face the monster in my paintings, and said nothing. He turned around then and grabbed the canvas off the easel, with—I knew—the intention to have it destroyed. It burned my insides in horror just to think of it, so I lurched myself at him, and we got into a tussle. Gustave was strong, gripping the canvas until his fingers made dents on my painting, and I shoved him against a wall as I screamed to let go of the painting, but he shouted back in madness: “You did this! You are responsible for this! You are cursed, and have cursed us all!”

Adolphine appeared at my door, screeching in horror at the sight, and began to scream for the servants to come to her aid as Gustave and I tussled still. Finally, he dropped the canvas and I shoved him out of my door, past Adolphine who nearly tumbled onto the ground, and as he tripped on his feet, he fell back onto the stairs and down he went.

I watched from the top of the stairs as he groaned in pain down below, gazing at me in horror. The painting was salvaged, carefully placed against a wall, and Adolphine covered her mouth with a hand, again nearly about to faint. The newspaper was fallen on the floor of my studio, and she picked it up slowly to read its cover. Then, she glanced at the paintings on my studio, the same ones she had never seen, and her pallor turned her into a living ghost. Out of strength, she sought a chair to sit on and fell to it with a tumble of weakness, barely breathing, but her eyes glared only at me.

The servants assisted Gustave, and the doctor was called in as I screamed one last warning: stay away from my paintings. Adolphine, once recovered from her affliction, cursed me and expelled me from her house, saying I had but three days to pack my belongings and leave, lest I wanted to be put into a hospice for the rest of my days.

And throughout it all, I felt… calm.

At night, with Gustave laid in bed, bandaged and tended to by the doctor and his wife, and Adolphine weeping in her privacy words that fluttered back to my ear—oh, she always was such an insolent one, I do not know what to do with her, I don’t want to kick her out, but what else am I to do, Gustave?—I locked myself in my studio and watched my paintings. It was only then that I took notice of the transformation that had occurred in my style: the creature grew in size, becoming bigger and bigger with every new one, sometimes so big I had to relegate it to the background—and as a consequence, so did my canvases, which had grown several meters wide.

Then, an idea occurred to me.

With but one lantern shedding light on the space around me, I grabbed my brushes and began to paint. Though I was in a state of trance still, I was in enough control of my being that, this time, I knew what I would paint. It was my own studio, in a small canvas, and the victim was, this time, me. I drew the shape of the creature in black blotches countered by the flimsy yellow light of my lantern, put the brush down and waited.

I was blinking my eyes wearily, about to fall asleep, when I heard the faintest growl emerging from the corner. As I stood, I saw it then: two big white eyes staring back at me, from a big gaping mouth, fangs began to glisten in yellow and white. I stood, yet I did not tremble. I looked at the creature, at my creation, and smiled as my heart thumped strongly against my chest.

Truly, I was the most exquisite painter alive in Paris, for how many could say their creations had come to life?

The monster stood silently before me, and I felt its heavy, thick breath slapping my face, though it smelled of nothing but emptiness. Its long arms swayed freely, the sharp claws touching the floors enough that scratches were left on the wooden boards, and its legs bent at the knees to fit his jutting horns inside the tight space of my attic, though they too scratched the ceilings. I suppose to any an onlooker it would have appeared as terrifying, yet to me it was… a beautiful sight. For it was my creation, and I was its God.

For a moment, we just stared at one another, and time passed by us unnoticed.

Then, the monster tilted its head slightly and in a guttural yet smoothing low tone of his voice, it spoke: “You are my mistress.”

“What are you?” I asked.

It took a long time to answer. “I am what exists in the corner of the eye. I am the drips of paint left at the bottom of the easel. I am what has been in your mind for very long, set free by a movement of your brush. But I must be fed.”

“You must be fed?”

I felt trapped inside my own canvas, locked in my own creation, my own world, and swore then I’d never leave it.

“I must be fed, mistress,” it muttered. “The day I die shall be the day your painting ends. You might lose your hands, you might lose your fingers, you might go insane enough that painting will bring nought but horrid pain to you. But if I die, you cease to become an artist. Thus, I must be fed to exist.”

I did ponder on it for a moment, on whether or not it was worth to be labelled the most talented painter of Paris if it meant innocents gone and mauled by some mysterious creature. But I knew I would never achieve that status, for I was still a woman who refused mere watercolours, and not even an aristocrat, but someone living in her sister’s attic, who had been lucky enough to marry a successful mediocre painter. No matter how talented I truly was, the city would forever cast its eyes on the men, like Rousseau and Daubigny and Cabanel. But me, I would forever be master Gustave’s apprentice, with no one sparing a second to think of my talents as mine alone, but certainly passed on to me by some man, like charity.

It was either that or becoming some skinflint painter’s muse, bound to be labelled a whore only to die of syphilis. 

No, Paris would never chant for my name as they chanted for the other artists. So I wondered then if it was worth quitting my passion, the one thing that made me feel so alive, while this unsuspecting city slept in terror before these mysterious disappearances, unknown that they happened at the hands of the most masterful artist Paris had ever seen—and a woman at that.

“All you have to do is paint,” the monster said. “Paint my food, and eat I shall.”

“How?” I asked.

“How have you been doing it so far?” It drew near, and there I felt the pulsating definition of the Sublime: how beautiful it was, yet what dread it caused me, something intricate to itself that made my body shudder in cold fear—yet all I wanted was to draw nearer and nearer, to feel its shape closer to mine.

It was an instinct, I learned at last. My talent surpassed that of the easel and the brush, it was something deep into the occult. I had a link with this beautiful creation that was my pet, and in my ravenous hours of work, I could see the present and the future all the same and paint it into a storm to come that would end the lives of those who became nothing but food for my beautiful creation.

I thought about Gustave, and I thought about my sister wanting to put me in a hospice.

So without saying a word, I picked up my brush and began to paint. The monster stood quietly in a corner, watching me in my creation, but in no time I forgot about its presence. Instead, with a smile of delight upon what I considered already to be my magnum opus, I painted my largest canvas yet, locked inside my attic, where the shape of a bed appeared, and by a trembling candlelight, a sleeping man lay, bandaged and bruised from a fall down the stairs, his wife weeping silently by his side, her hand holding his.

It was morning when I was finished. The monster hadn’t moved. He looked at the canvas and its slit of a mouth widened into a smile.

“Eat I shall,” it said.

I did not see it leave. I was so tired I did not retire to my chambers, buy lay on the floor to rest. 

I suppose I was already asleep when it happened, for I did not hear the screams.

___

Past Challenges:

Wordtober Day 1: Ring

Wordtober Day 2: Mindless

Wordtober Day 3: Bait

Wordtober Day 4: Freeze

Wordtober Day 5: Build I

Wordtober Day 6: Build II

Wordtober Day 7: Enchanted (Encantada)

Wordtober Day 8: Frail

Wordtober Day 9: Swing

Wordtober Day 10: Pattern

Wordtober Day 11: Snow

(Skipped Day 12)

Wodrtober Day 13: Ash

[tomhoganphotographer-blog]

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[auckland-photographer]

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[ancientbooshartifacts]

The Only Song Worth Singing

Author: Neut

Year: 2006

Rating: PG-13

Pairing:  Bob Fossil/Dixon Bainbridge, Matt Berry/Vince Noir, Matt Berry/Rich Fulcher

"Hey, Matt," Rich said eagerly. "Matt." Matt did not respond. "Matt," Rich tried again. He had a teaspoon balanced on his nose. "You're a prick," Matt said from behind his newspaper. Crestfallen, Rich removed the spoon. "I'm so bored," he said. Matt still did not respond. "Hey you wanna play darts?" "Have you had another royalty cheque?" "No." "Fuck off." Rich began to drum his fingers against his legs. He looked around the room. He began to whistle. Matt dropped the paper and grabbed Rich's face with one hand. "Shut the fuck up." Rich froze. Matt slowly let go. "I gotta go piss," Rich said. Matt nodded as Rich rose from his seat. He crossed the room to the toilets and as he was about to open the door, heard a call of "Not that one!" His hand instinctively moved to the door next to it, labelled '1888'. He smiled. Of course. Sir Charles would be able to provide some entertainment. Despite having stepped through the rip in the time/space continuum several times now, it still left Rich disoriented. When he snapped out of his daze, he looked around and realised that Sir Charles was not in his usual seat. The room was empty, the only sign of life the fire flickering in the grate. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Rich sidled over to the chair and with one last furtive glance, sat himself upon it. It was comfortable. No, more than comfortable. This chair was a little piece of heaven. Rich rifled through the things on the table beside him, poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter and began to prepare a pipe. "I'm fucking Goldilocks!" he said, enthralled. He took a sip of the drink and knew before it even touched his tongue that it was going to be the best whiskey he'd ever tasted. "Wow," he breathed. The pipe was half raised to his mouth when he heard a door open. He dropped it in surprise and tobacco spilled onto the carpet. He turned slowly, expecting Sir Charles or his man, Wormwood. He would be in trouble regardless. He heard a voice before he saw the speaker. "Whoa there. What's going on here?" "Dunno," a second voice replied. "Thought you said this was the toilets?" It was neither Sir Charles nor Wormwood. With some disappointment Rich noted that it was not even the usual bevy of half naked prostitutes. Rather it was the two least likely people he could have imagined wandering into Matt's great, great uncle's drawing room. They stared at him. He stared at them. They hadn't changed much since he last saw them and judging by their faces, they were equally as surprised to see him as he was them. "Fossil?" "Hey, Vince. I like your hair." Vince looked at Howard for some explanation. Howard shrugged his shoulders. The last time that they had seen Fossil he had been unkempt, slightly manic and was flitting around after Bainbridge, hurling obscenities at small children. Now here he was in this luxurious room, wearing a smart, dark suit and neatly groomed. It was difficult to believe he was the same man. "What's going on?" Vince asked. "We just came in for a wee." "Yeah, I know," Fossil said, his face adopting the familiar look of dumb eagerness that Howard and Vince were accustomed to. They both relaxed slightly. "It happens all the time when I go for a piss." "You drink in the King's Legs?" Howard asked, looking back at the door he and Vince had just entered through. "No. The Hangman's Club." An awkward silence fell on the room. Vince nudged Howard. "So... um. How are you? How have you been?" Howard's interest was unconvincing, though Fossil didn't appear to notice. "Great!" he grinned. "I got a new job with my friend Matt. He works for the Queen. And I get to hang out in his gentleman's club." "You?" Howard and Vince said in stunned unison. Fossil looked a little hurt. There was something not quite right about him. He seemed calmer somehow. Maybe even a little quieter. Howard felt he could do with a drink to help him come to terms with the current situation. "You guys should come meet Matt," Fossil said. Vince looked at Howard again, his eyebrows raised in question. Howard shook his head and mumbled "I dunno". Vince cast a quick glance at Fossil. There was such a simple, gullible air about him. "We can't say no," he whispered. "Be like kicking a puppy." Howard couldn't believe that he was about to agree to an evening spent with the man who had made his life hell for so long, but he admitted to himself that he liked the idea of attending a gentleman's club. It sounded like the sort of place where Howard Moon would be appreciated. He nodded at Vince. "Alright, Mr Fossil. Lead the way." "Great. But, hey, lay off the Fossil stuff. I don't use that name anymore." "Who the hell are these two arseholes?" Matt was unimpressed with the strays that Rich had brought back. "Really, Berry," one of the old gentleman members said, nodding towards a sign reading 'NO SWEARING'. "Uh, these guys are friends of mine," Rich said unsurely. Howard and Vince exchanged a look with one another. The old gentleman cleared his throat and pointed to another sign, higher up the wall. It said 'NO COLOURFUL NON-MEMBERS'. "Piss off, you silly old fart," Matt said. The old man shook his head and made a sound of disapproval. "Just sit," Rich said. "And try not to draw too much attention." The irony was not lost on Howard and Vince as they watched Fossil- or Rich, as he insisted on being called- go to the bar. Howard turned back to Matt. "Allow me to introduce myself," he began. "I'm Howard Moon, jazz maverick. You may have heard of me. I span the genres." Matt stared hard at him for a good minute. "I haven't got a fucking clue who you are, pal. What about you, princess? Got a name?" Vince regarded Matt coolly. "Vince Noir," he said, almost making it sound like a threat. Matt looked him up and down with a smirk. "Sounds about right." Rich reappeared with drinks, placing a pint of something dark in front of Howard and a toxic pink cocktail before Vince. Matt gulped down half a glass of whiskey and pointed at Rich. Howard had a sudden and brief sense of de ja vu. "Talk," Matt commanded. "I used to work with these guys." "So what the hell are they doing here?" "Oi," Vince interjected. "We are sitting right here." "We don't know how we got here," Howard added. "We were in a pub, then we went through a door and ended up in that drawing room with Mr Fossil here." "Fossil," Matt said, rather than asked. He looked at Rich and sighed impatiently. He was fast tiring of this. "Look, Matt. I didn't tell you the whole truth about me." Matt yawned. "I didn't come straight from the States when I met you. I used to work in a zoo." Howard's attention wandered while Rich was talking. He noticed a portrait hanging behind the table. The subject was a man who bore a striking resemblance to Matt, save for his elaborate moustache. The plaque beneath it indicated that the man was Sir Charles Berry. The name meant nothing to Howard other than the fact that he was obviously one of Matt's ancestors. Yet there was something so familiar... "Why should I give a shit, you dickhead?" Howard's train of thought was broken as Matt threw another insult at Rich. "I was using a different name then because of all that stuff with my sisters," Rich mumbled. "Eh?" Vince asked, perking up. This sounded more interesting. "Your mate Fossil has dabbled with his own flesh and blood on more than one occasion," Matt said with a satisfied smirk. Howard and Vince grimaced. "That's even worse than Bainbridge," Vince blurted out. "Bainbridge..." Rich murmured in wonder, speaking the word as though it was something mythical. Matt looked up sharply and Howard caught his eye. It was the first time that Matt had dropped his guard. He was the first to look away. Bainbridge, Howard thought. That nagging feeling he'd had since arriving was starting to make more sense. "And this prick didn't even know that it was Bowie!" Matt had moved the party upstairs to his private room and was laughing loudly at Rich's expense. Across from him, Vince was grinning, stirring his drink with a straw and taking small, coquettish sips. "No way!" he giggled. "That's mental!" Howard and Rich sat apart from them, watching on awkwardly. Much to Howard's chagrin, as Vince's level of alcohol consumption had increased, so had his tolerance of Matt. Rich, meanwhile, had said little since Bainbridge had been mentioned. Howard found his silence unnerving. "Happens all the time," Matt continued. "Adam Ant was in the other week." Vince was visibly impressed. "We've gotta get the address of this studio, eh Howard?" Howard nodded in an offhanded fashion, knowing full well that Vince was intoxicated and didn't really want his opinion. Matt continued to regale Vince with his stories of this amazing rehearsal studio that he and Rich frequented while Howard struggled to get his head around the idea that Fossil could write music. And had a job. A job by appointment of the Sovereign. None of it added up. Matt was taking a piss in the adjoining bathroom and Rich was mixing some fresh drinks. Howard took the opportunity to talk to Vince. "There's some bad juju afoot," he said discretely. "Bad juju? It's worse than that. We just voluntarily spent our Saturday night in an old people's home with Fossil. And he's normal! Well... sort of. This is a twisted, freakish nightmare. Good cocktails though." "Look," Howard said, looking around with suspicion. "This Matt, does he remind you of anyone?" Vince looked blank. "Imagine him with big hair," Howard continued. "And a moustache? Like a ... silver horseshoe?" Vince frowned in concentration. Realisation slowly dawned on him. "Yeah," Howard urged him on. "Des Lynam!" Vince beamed. "Des Lynam?" "Yeah, the Silver Fox. Ladies love Des." "Wasn't quite who I had in mind." "Oh. Charles Darwin?" Howard fought to control his frustration. "Think about it, Vince. The insults, the cursing. And," Howard imitated the very distinctive way that Matt had pointed at Rich. "This!" Vince suddenly looked quite sick. Howard moved closer to him. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," Vince said unconvincingly. "Must have had one Cosmo too many." Howard carefully scrutinised his friend. "What happened?" he asked. "When we came upstairs. You and him, you tagged behind a bit." Vince looked sheepish. "There is a chance that I might possibly have just kissed him a little bit." Howard looked appalled. "Vince, how could you-" "Leave it out, Howard. It's bad enough I've got deal with getting off with a Bainbridge clone. I'll never live this down." Howard thought he saw Vince gag slightly when he said their former employer's name. Then Matt walked back into the room. Vince paled. "IthinkIwannagohomenow." "What's wrong with you?" Matt asked when he and Rich were alone. He was sprawled across a chaise longue while Rich was squashed into a small armchair. "I guess seeing those guys again brought back a lot of memories," Rich replied. "Y'know, I used to be a real asshole." "You're still an arsehole." "It was the guy I used to work for. He treated me pretty bad. I didn't realise it at the time. I would've done anything for him." Matt swirled the glass he was holding and the icecubes within it made a tiny chiming sound. "My uncle Dicky used to own a zoo." He said. Rich looked up, surprised that Matt was still paying attention to the conversation. "He's a complete tosser." They were silent for a while. "Hey, Matt?" "What?" "Thanks for getting me a job. I thought the zoo was my life and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do after it closed." Matt sat up and opened his mouth to speak. Rich looked him in the eye. He reached out and put his hands on either side of Rich's head, pulled him closer and placed a brief, hard kiss on his mouth. "You're mine now," he breathed.

[foleyscott10-blog]

Wedding Photography Fundamentals Explained

If you would like to explore more options regarding wedding photographers, there are many internet websites that might allow you to get much better results.  Set their expectations which you're a skilled and you respect your work so that they should as well.  It isn't easy to finalize any prenuptial photographer in Dubai because of so many alternatives out there on the market. Contemplating the simple fact that excellent photographs can be taken with pretty much any excellent digital S.L.R. camera then the choice should be reached on the grounds of ability and experience.  A top photography agency is going to have the finest and competent photographers who will help you have the very best high quality event coverage.  Now, furthermore important than anything else is selection of the proper photographers who have good command over this kind of photography.

After the event was completed, the only means to return to the distinctive day is via the lovely pictures from the wedding day.  One other important thing which you should look after is the organic wedding photography in Melbourne.  If your big day is approaching, you could be thinking that it's not to seek the services of a professional photographer is a great way to save a bit of money, but there are a great deal of reasons, not to conserve the image. Locating the ideal portrait location in a location like Sydney can be a little bit of a crap shoot.  Events such as weddings don't arrive in somebody's life everyday and thus you're predicted to present your all out best.  Keeping that in mind, if you're looking for wedding photography in Sydney, you should have in touch with Yulia Curly.

An individual can take a look online and be certain they buy the ideal wedding dress.  You have to have some idea about the style which you will prefer.  It's also good to capture a number of the distinctive details of your wedding for posterity. When you have settled on the photographer who will cover your huge day... PHONE THEM!  Therefore, the pre wedding photoshoot should also include things like candid photoshoot, so as to create memories that are real and heartfelt.  Further, you're going to be ready. RK Digital Solution is among the very best wedding photographers in Delhi.  Each website has a box for a complete description, price and shipping charges together with the choice to upload photos.  You're able to take a look at the AppilyEver website for such info and also receive a consultation from their experts.

Whatever They Told You About Wedding Photography Is Dead Wrong...And Here's Why

Picking an Inexperienced Photographer Take your time to explore the job of the wedding photographers that you're interested in working with.  Photography is such an occupation in which you require constant practice to improve your skills.  For your elopement wedding it needs, Tim Halberg is the right choice. You have to print photos that will describe the sort of photography that you do.  There are different kinds of portrait photography also.  Normally, the photographs are found on their site. A good step can be to request a test shoot from the photographer if you're uncertain of the way that it would work out.  Keep in mind, you might know what you would like from your photographer, but he or she's not a mind reader.  Unlike the conventional photography that may be used for many purpose, wildlife photography need some distinctive cameras.

Unslanted photography supplies a broader range of photos.  You can anticipate a fantastic wedding photographer to not only be professional but also friendly and you may expect him to capture you as soon as you are not ready for it. Hiring he or she can be a little shopping, but it's worth it economically to have a professional on your big day. Nobody can become a pro wedding photographer overnight.  So far as styles of wedding photography, there are 4 key types to pick from.  As a way to extract the image from its background, you can utilize Photoshop.

A good step can be to request a test shoot from the blue mountains wedding photographer if you're uncertain of the way that it would work out.  The idea of candid wedding photography differs from the standard photography.  Unlike the conventional photography that may be used for many purpose, wildlife photography need some distinctive cameras. Arjun Kartha Photography Arjun Kartha has been a famous name in the business with a very long time experience.  Weddings are arguably among the most stressful photography commissions you'll be able to get.  It is not only about clicking photos with the help of camera but it goes beyond that. The key again, is finding an appropriate site.  If you'd like to become in touch with her, you should pay a trip to her site yuliaphotography.com.au.  You're able to take a look at the AppilyEver website for such info and also receive a consultation from their experts.

The Benefits of Wedding Photography

Photography is among the hardly any things that require very definitive skill sets to be able to be effective in the trade.  So before you begin talking to photographers ensure that you're clear about how much money you are prepared to put money into the wedding photography services.  Anyway, the photographers may lower your financial concerns by providing you their services at a fair cost. The ideal photography schools supply you with the confidence of knowing that you are able to make wonderful images each time you achieve for your camera in place of shooting and hoping for the very best.  What you ought to be searching for is any complaints about the business or photographer.  If you'd like to chat about your own wedding please get in touch with me today to arrange a trip to my studio to go over your requirements.

You're going to want to understand the four types so that you can select the one which will best capture the gaze you'll want for your big moment.  One other important thing which you should look after is the organic wedding photography in Melbourne.  If your big day is approaching, you could be thinking that it's not to seek the services of a professional photographer is a great way to save a bit of money, but there are a great deal of reasons, not to conserve the image. Professional and skilled wedding photographers are friendly people who always produce vibrant photoshoot ideas to receive expressive photographs and pictures which you would really like to adorn your bedside table.  So it absolutely is a great idea to devote a little time exploring the finest Raleigh photographer for your Raleigh wedding.  Utilizing somebody who is a specialist in the photographing of weddings is indispensable to steer clear of mistakes and obtain peace of mind.

When picking a wedding photographer style and personality are two big aspects.  You have to have some idea about the style which you will prefer.  It's also good to capture a number of the distinctive details of your wedding for posterity. Thus you require the effort of an expert Wedding Photography in Durham.  A wedding is a particular occasion.  Photography is playing a crucial part in the wedding season. The key again, is finding an appropriate site.  If you'd like to become in touch with her, you should pay a trip to her site yuliaphotography.com.au.  Thus, you're able to easily find them online, through their personal sites or by means of the site of the association.

Wedding Photography Help!

If you're looking for an exemplary wedding photographer, Lovable Photography is the proper choice.  Photography is such an occupation in which you require constant practice to improve your skills.  It is one art that takes a short time to learn. Nobody can become a pro wedding photographer overnight.  So far as styles of wedding photography, there are 4 key types to pick from.  An easy photograph is well worth a thousand of words. It's important that you know which styles that you prefer while searching for your photographer.  Thus, to find wedding pictures that appear brilliant and more over force you to look spectacular, you should hire wedding photographers who not only claim they are professionals, but in addition have authentic proof they are.  Portfolio You may believe you are an incredibly good photographer but it doesn't mean people know about doing it.

Photography is among the hardly any things that require very definitive skill sets to be able to be effective in the trade.  So before you begin talking to photographers ensure that you're clear about how much money you are prepared to put money into the wedding photography services.  Most photographers will provide you with a succinct description of their style somewhere on their site. There are lots of working parts of the Orlando wedding photography company that only you might be accountable for and hence must take care of.  What you ought to be searching for is any complaints about the business or photographer.  While seeking the ideal service to use on your wedding day, identify the many heights of expertise which you have to demand from a wedding photographer.

After the event was completed, the only means to return to the distinctive day is via the lovely pictures from the wedding day.  If you've ever attended an Indian wedding you are aware of how many men and women attend such congratulatory events.  If your big day is approaching, you could be thinking that it's not to seek the services of a professional photographer is a great way to save a bit of money, but there are a great deal of reasons, not to conserve the image. Take advantage of people who're highly familiarized with the habits of photography in addition to would not make amateurish mistakes while it has to do with capturing the memories of your wedding day.  Keep memory cards blank and have a look at the route much before the wedding date so that you're able to figure out how to reach punctually.  So finally it's possible to plan your wedding with excellent enthusiasm and affection by selecting the sort of weeding photographer and level of your photos needed.An individual can take a look online and be certain they buy the ideal wedding dress.  After all, you don't get another chance at your wedding pictures. It's also good to capture a number of the distinctive details of your wedding for posterity.

[maidstone-photographer-blog]

5 Qualities That A Reliable Maidstone Photographer Possesses

Intimate moments with your loved ones can be remembered through photographs. Taking pictures of such important moments may sound simple, but the reality is, you'll require a Maidstone photographer with you. By working with this specialist, you won’t need to do the picture-taking on your own, and you will likewise get quality and stunning portraits.

These days, you'll find numerous photographers who are willing to help you out. Nevertheless, you have to keep in mind that not every one of them are capable of providing exceptional output. Thus, to save you from the predicament hiring novice individuals, outlined below are the attributes that you need to keep in mind when looking for an outstanding Maidstone photographer.

1. Passionate about photography

When hiring a photographer, or any kind of professional, it’s crucial to check if they're keen about their job. For sure, you don’t want to hire someone who seems uninspired or irritated whenever taking a lot of pictures. What you require is someone who sees photography as a satisfying job. The professional you must hire must take pleasure in making clients feel comfortable and taking wonderful moments.

2. Carries a great track record

Moreover, you have to examine the trustworthiness of the photographers you’re considering to work with. This is one of the ways to figure out if you will be acquiring quality photographs and overall service from them. Typically, their past clients give reviews on their work, and through examining these, you’ll have an idea of how they handle customers, certain needs, and various projects. Just keep in mind that seeing plenty of favourable reviews is an indicator that the photographer is capable of performing brilliantly.

3. Has several specialisations

Memorable and intimate moments with your family members don’t just occur at one occasion or stage of your life. This suggests that you require a photographer who is adaptable enough to give services suited to a variety of scenarios. Opting for an individual who specialises in newborn, family and maternity photography enables you to have pictures of the most valuable life occasions, from pregnancy to baby’s first birthday.

4. Has affordable rates

Next, take note that having gorgeous images does not necessarily mean that you’ll be expending a lot of money. Realise that there are reliable photographers out there who offer packages available at fair prices. By acquiring these, you are sure to get desirable photos without overspending.

5. Answers all the necessary questions

Ultimately, before you decide to work with a professional, you'll surely have a lot of questions as a client. This can be about the booking procedure, studio area, payment procedures, or bundle inclusions. Don't forget, reliable photographers can rapidly and clearly answer these queries by means of telephone call, email or their websites.

In Summary

Absolutely, there is no problem in getting a Maidstone photographer particularly if you are going to acquire attractive photographs and great value for money. The only concern you need to withstand is finding the best one among the countless photographers nowadays. However, if you will keep in mind all the traits stated previously, everything will be much simpler for you. Best of luck!

[childofthemoon86]

@francisandtheworldweek Day 1: Photographer/Model au

Love is Inspiration, Inspiration is Love

Pairing: (pre)FrUk, implied spamano

Characters: France, Spain, Prussia, England, America, South Italy (mentioned)

Rating: T for language

Word count: 2350

Summary: When Francis loses his love of photography, inspiration comes from an unlikely, and rather drunk, source.

Cross posted on FF.net

Francis sighed as he clicked through the images on his screen. Male models sporting the latest fashion flick past his eyes with barely a moments glance. Snazzy street clothes, expensive suits, swim wear, underwear, each image taken has the perfect theme for the occasion and really, by anyone else’s standards, the pictures are beautiful, breathtaking… perfect.

But when Francis looks at these pictures, he doesn’t see that special spark anymore. He sees hours of rigging just to set up the right lighting for maybe one or two passable photos, and dozens more tossed for not being ‘just right’. He sees fussy hair and makeup designer arguing over the same faces day after day, only to paint the same look on each one. He sees boring models who act more like play-doh than clay. He sees dozens of people acting like cogs in a machine, and the expectation they all have of him, for him to make it all work.

He sees a process, a set up.

He doesn’t see art. He doesn’t see life.

Turning from the screen, Francis pushes himself away from the desk, the wheels of his chair squeaking under him as he rolls back from the force. He leans back, slowly letting his eyes rove around the studio.

Around him the white walls are decorated with some of his best works. Large portraits filled with bright, and back then new, models in some of his more… ostentatious works. As his eyes roll over each, he can’t help but feel a smile pull at his lips. How can he not? Each picture has a story, and every time he looks at them, he feels himself whisked right back to the day he took it.

But then his eyes returned to the black screen at his desk.

He frowns, wondering when did he lose his spark? Just when did he start to hate the very thing that used to give him such joy?

Looking to the side, his eyes land on the small frame nestled on the corner of his desk.

Most people who come to his studio don’t even know he’s the one who took it, mostly because he’s in it, that, and the fact that it’s nothing like the others. It’s a bit blurry and off centre. It also has an odd tilt, and lens flare from the sun blots out the upper right corner with it’s glaring white light, almost blocking out the view of one of the peoples faces.

But despite all these apparent flaws, it’s by far Francis’s most precious picture.

Gently, he lifts it up to examine it closer.

The picture was taken in a park, one not too far from his old studio, and is a simple one of three friends. It was a summers day, the last summers day that the three friends would share for some time, and they wanted to remember it. Francis was only a budding photographer back then, but even so, he knew just how to capture the day.

He had set up a tripod with his new camera all ready to go. The timer was set and he rushed back to the others for the perfect shot.

What he didn’t count on was a ball bouncing down the hill he set the camera on, or Gilbert’s decision to be ‘helpful’ and kick it out of frame back the way it came. The ball veered to the right and struck the tripod, causing the camera to tumble. The timer ticked down and the shutter went off before the camera hit the ground, capturing the sight of Gilbert cheering to his right, Antonio laughing at the accident to his left, and Francis in the middle, dashing forward in the vain hopes of catching the camera.

It’s an image full of life, and the very picture that set Francis fully on the path to becoming the photographer he is today.

Before he can set the picture down again, the door flies open and the sound of manic laughter soon reaches Francis’s ears.

“Hey Franny! What you still doing sitting there?” Gilbert calls, grinning like a mad man as he steps in.

Francis looks up in confusion for a moment, before he spies Antonio through the doorway.

“Merde! Is it that late already?” He curses, looking at his watch.

“Yup!” Gil beams, “So get your butt out of that chair and let’s go drinking!”

“Ah,” Francis shakes his head sadly, “Sorry, but I still haven’t finished here, and the deadline is tonight.”

Before he can apologise further, Toni waves away his worries, “We thought you might say that, so I had a word with Lovi, and we both agreed to give you an extension, so no worries!”

Francis chuckles, shaking his head at the pair.

Of course, he should have expected as much. Not many people are as lucky to work for their best friend.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Ja, now let’s go hit the bars!”

X

Francis knows he should be trying to enjoy himself, but he can’t stop feeling bogged down with this new inexplicable loathing for his work, and he hates that he hates it.

“Aww cheer up Fran,” Toni chirps, waving the bar tender over to order him another drink.

“Ja,” Gil nods, trying to act sagely as he clumsily claps the blond on the back, “It’s not like you to be this down. It’s weirding me out.”

“If you need a change of pace, Gil could always model some stuff again.”

“Damn right I could! You know I make anything look hot.”

“No,” Fran sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Thanks, but I don’t think even Gil’s eccentricities can get me out of this slump.”

Toni hums in thought, though how clear such thoughts are is questionable at this point, “Maybe you just need something new, like last year with the spring wardrobe change? Though I don’t think I could take another of Lovi’s tantrums…”

“Just get a new model.” Gil slurs slightly, taking another swig of his beer before continuing, “I mean, no dummkopf pretty boy will be as good as me, but can’t hurt to try right?”

“Gil has a point,” Antonio nods, sipping at his own drink, “that’s what you used to do at the old studio, right?”

Francis shook his head, frowning at his drink, “No, I mean yes, but, it’d be impossible. Even if I could find someone to model, there’s no way I could reshoot all of Lovino’s line by next week. I’d have to work 24/7 solid to get it done, and you know how fickle the makeup department is. It’s impossible. I’ll just have to… make… do?”

Francis trails off, his attention drifting to the other end of the bar where an argument seems to be getting out of hand.

He can just about see a head of scruffy blond hair slumped across the bar, and another taller blond trying, and failing, to pull the slumped man up.

“FUCKING PISS OFF!” An accented voice heavily slurs as the smaller man tries to push the other away.

“Dude, Artie, come on. It’s time to go.” The tall one sounds frustrated, but is doing well to stay calm.

“A said Fuck OFF, am still drinkin’ h’re!”

“No your not,” the bar tender cuts in, frowning disapprovingly at the drunk man, “I cut you off half an hour ago. Now will you please leave before I call the police.”

“Whoa, no need for the cops dude, I can handle him.” The tall blond grins nervously, before switching to a more direct approach.

Francis, and by now most of the bar, watch as the young man stuffs his hands under the drunks armpits, forcefully lifting him up off the bar and pulling back to remove him from the stool. It goes well for about five seconds, before the drunk man seems to realise what’s happening and tries to pull away. The ensuing scuffle sends them down the bar, and, by a bout of bad luck, the drunk man tumbles free of his helper/captor to land in Francis’s lap.

Bloodshot green eyes look up at him in dazed confusion for a second, before rolling over to vomit down Francis’s trousers.

Francis is fairly certain it’s the booze talking, but as he watched this man puke, he saw a glow, and just like that, to the sound of retching and the disgusting warmth running down his legs, he’d found his new inspiration.

“Oh shit! Dude I am so sorry!” The young man cried as he pulled the sick man to his feet.

Downing the last of his drink, Francis stood, beaming as he helped to steady the drunk and proclaimed, “Your hired!”

X

At exactly 11am the next morning, Francis eagerly paced the studio, making last minute adjustments to the lighting, before nearly jumping in glee at the sound of the door buzzing.

Hurrying over to the intercom, he excitedly asked, “Hello?”

His excitement however, was met with a far more cautious and nervous voice, “Yes, Hello? My name is Arthur, I, Uh, believe you made a job offer last night? The card said to come here so…” the voice trails off, but Francis is far to excited to pick up on it’s unease.

“Oui! Oui, come on up!” He calls, happily buzzing the man in.

It only takes a few minutes for a knock to come at his door, and Fran near pulls it off it’s hinges in his rush to open it. But any words he had prepared leave him in a rush of air as he lays eyes on the man before him.

The sloppy drunk in a ratty old band tee, jeans, and heavy jacket that was hanging off of him last night has been completely replaced. Instead what stands before him is a neat, casual suit wearing man, who stands straight and clean shaven. Though the hair remains the same, and what was confused green eyes, now stare back at him with weariness behind dark sunglasses that some how go with the suit.

So this is Arthur Kirkland when not drunk out of his mind, Fran thinks.

It’s only when Arthur coughs does Francis notice he’s been ogling him for far too long and is now making things uncomfortable.

He quickly smiles to recover, stepping back and waving a hand to welcome him in.

“Please, come in, Mr. Kirkland.”

There’s a moment of uncertainty before he does, and Fran sighs in relief.

“Um, so what is it exactly you wanted to hire me for?”

Now Francis realises why Arthur sounds so unsure, and he chuckles at his own blindness.

“Ah, I suppose you were rather, incapacitated last night, though I thought your friend, Mr. Jones? would have explained everything to you?”

Arthur seems to frown at the mention of his friend as he looks around the studio, “Alfred left early for work, all he left me was a note and your card. Not exactly much to go on.”

“Ah well, in that case, allow me to explain. My name is Francis Bonnefoy, I am a photographer for the fashion magazine Project Tomato. And what I want you to do, Mr. Kirkland, is model for me.”

“Model?”

Oh, Francis doesn’t like the way he said that, as if the very notion was ridiculous. He has to save this, and fast. Time to pour on the charm.

“Why of course! You see, back before I started working for PT, I was an independent photographer, and part of my work was finding fresh new faces to be models, so I know when I see potential.” He grinned, pausing to try to gauge Arthur’s reaction before continuing, “Don’t worry, we won’t do anything too taxing on your first day. We’ll start of easy with a simple white drop background and something light and easy to wear, maybe a few costume changes later on, but nothing big.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur blinked, shaking his head like he’s trying to understand what’s going on, “but you want me to model?”

Trying not to show his worry that he might lose his one shot at new inspiration, Fran smiles warmly, “Yes, that is what I said.”

“Me? Model?”

Fran sighs, now getting frustrated with this circling.

“Yes. You. What about that is so hard to understand?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so sharp, but he really needs Arthur to agree.

Arthur looks around at the studio again, this time clearly taking in all the pictures, and if Francis didn’t know any better, he’d say Arthur almost looks scared.

“But aren’t models supposed to be…” he trails off.

“Supposed to be what?”

“Never mind. You said the pay would be good? Or Al’s note said that…”

Finally getting somewhere, Fran beams, “Yes, very.”

“Alright then.” Arthur sighs, before directing his full attention to Francis, “What do I have to do?”

X

Francis can easily say that Arthur is by far the most difficult model he’s ever had to work with, and for some unknown reason, that delights him. He hates the makeup and hair designers, he refuses to wear any shorts, or sleeveless shirts without a jacket to cover his arms, and he absolutely won’t let anyone near him when he changes. He’s grumpy, demanding and unreasonable. He’s an unpleasant spanner in the once smooth running machine of Francis’s studio.

And that makes him perfect.

He’s not play-doh, or clay, he’s a rock. No, a gemstone, a diamond in the rough. It’ll be tough, but with time, Francis is certain he can polish him to shine greater than any model before him.

But more than that, Francis finds himself drawn to him. He doesn’t remember the last time his camera was so draw to something, when one, twenty, forty photos was never enough.

And when the day’s shoot is over, never has he been more afraid of a model deciding this wasn’t for them, or chased after someone to beg to know that they’ll come back the next day.

And never has he been so happy when they said yes.

[davids69811]

Rhode Island Boudoir Photographer  2831 - Rich Epstein Photography

The Advantages Of Opting For Drone Photography Solutions

When taking photos, the majority of experts specify that taking pictures over can provide them with optimal results. Due to this, increasingly more individuals are seeking means to take aerial pictures. The good news is, there are different choices in doing so from employing helicopters or probably selecting drone photography services.  Rhode Island Boudoir Photographer 2831

As of now, some people favor drones when taking images because it offers terrific benefits that can make their job much better. Below are several of the complying with.

Raised security

One of the primary advantages of selecting drone photography services is you can enhance your safety and security when taking photos or video clips. Of course, when taking airborne photos or videos going high is much favored by photographers considering that they have a far better as well as bigger viewpoint. Nonetheless, taking images up in the sky can be dangerous. It gets even worse if you will be using a helicopter. Thankfully, making use of drones in taking images can be a much safer choice Rhode Island.

Much better ability to move

Another advantage of using drone digital photography remedies is individuals can have better maneuverability. There are cases when resonance of the engine, safety equipment in addition to sound can impact you in taking photos. In addition to that, these things can additionally block a remarkable view of a city or location. Thankfully, making use of drones can supply you with the very best maneuverability you need.

Easy to set up

The next benefit of drone digital photography options is it is easy to establish. Certainly, when taking photos most particularly overhead, you require to take advantage of various equipment. But, some of these things are hard to establish. And also, you need to spend substantial time in thinking and also setting up. By utilizing drones, you do not require to waste your time considering that drone photography provider ensure that their tools are ready to use. Therefore, you can right away take pictures.

Atmosphere friendly

When selecting drones to take photos, people can additionally take pleasure in setting pleasant features. For one, you do not need to disturb the nature with making use of helicopters. Furthermore, drones can decrease or even stop carbon discharges. Ultimately, you can also eliminate sound pollution. With all these functions, you can take pictures without impacting the setting.

Reduced expenditures

Finally, utilizing drones can likewise aid you minimize your costs. Opting for drone photography solutions can be expensive. Nevertheless, employing a helicopter is much more pricey. With regard to expenses in salaries, people can also reduce this since they can take images by themselves as long as they have drones Rhode Island

Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island

Preparation a wedding event is a long procedure as well as can sometimes be a very difficult minute for a new bride. Efficiently entrusting certain wedding event matters can obtain a handful of workload from your shoulders, and would give you time to concentrate on a specific topic that you would certainly want to be designated to you. One of the most concerns that should not be left unnoticed is getting a group of expert digital photographers that would certainly document the event. Catching your every emotion as a couple along with your family members, buddies, colleagues as well as visitors is one of one of the most important points in your wedding celebration. Obtaining a Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island or digital photographers will ensure you that everything concerning your new bride will certainly be caught, from the new bride's make up to the new bride's stroll down the aisle as well to the after event or function happenings Rhode Island

Wonderful wedding event photos are valued by the couple throughout their lives. This can be an amazing remembrance of their most special event that they will definitely prize. Attaining this sensible objective can be done easily as soon as you hire an exceptional Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island that has the eye for perfection, imagination, originality as well as charm. Talented digital photographers can make a normal situation resemble paradise. Apart from their premium cams and also the most recent accessories, they utilize photo boosting software that can boost the photo's comparison, brightness, color as well as appearance. Unnecessary things can additionally be chopped out of the image to more spotlight the subject.

It is likewise suggested to speak to your digital photographer or professional photographers concerning your ideas as well as suggestions. It is important to convey your ideas and also allow the professional photographer understand your choices and also aversions. Allow your Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island know your full wedding event information as well as occasion schedule too, for him or her to recognize where she or he ought to be at every particular time and place. Additionally pertinent info should also be provided to your professional photographer such as instructions and your call number, in addition to the wedding event planner's.

Pre-nuptial picture sessions ought to additionally be organized. Strategy this in advance as well as inform your entourage and also family members pertaining to the details day as well as venue. You can also do this before the proper wedding, to conserve up time and also cash Rhode Island.

How to Pick a Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island.

Allows face it, selecting a professional photographer for any type of circumstance can be overwhelming, and also when you are discussing intimate boudoir photographs, its a lot more vital you locate a gifted digital photographer you trust. Below are some pointers of what to seek, and ask, when you are looking for a digital photographer for wedding bedroom pictures.

1. Meet with the digital photographer for a get in touch with. One of the most likely location to start looking is with a digital photographer you are scheduled with or thinking about for your real wedding photographs. Bridal boudoir is something of a fad currently, and also wedding celebration digital photographers are most likely utilized to the questions, or might even have somebody to advise if they do not supply the solution. All Boudoir Digital photographer Rhode Islands worth your factor to consider need to be willing to consult with you to discuss your session. Throughout that meeting, you need to discuss profile's, suggestions, limits, and any type of various other inquiries or insecurities you may have. A true expert's responses and behavior ought to place you at complete ease throughout the consult. Having a photographer that has actually gotten your depend create sensational pictures of you is necessary Rhode Island.

2. Consider place. There are several design's and also sorts of boudoir photography. Looks can range from grunge or edgy designs, to haute couture, pin up, as well as also glamorous flick style plumes and pearls. The place where your shoot will take place ought to remain in line with the design you and your photographer select to pursue. No matter the style, the location of your shoot should be an exclusive area you are completely comfy with. The majority of professional Boudoir Digital photographer Rhode Islands will have private locations offered, be it a traditional studio space, expensive hotel, b and b, or a private place outdoors.

3. View their portfolio. Many developed photographers will have a great deal of photos they can show you from various other boudoir shoots. Boudoir is in style currently, as well as numerous digital photographers are providing boudoir sessions with less experience than desired. Making you look your best in an attractive and tasteful method takes a skill set somewhat different than that of a picture or wedding event photographer. That is NOT to claim a wedding or portrait photographer can not likewise be an amazing and achieved Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island. The point is it requires time, initiative, and technique to add the camera, lighting, as well as retouching skills to shoot bedroom at a high level. A large profile with many different clients or models shows you their initiative as well as commitment at learning their craft.

4. Do not just go shopping on price. Most of us have a budget as well as you have to select a photographer who fits within that budget plan, yet choosing a Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island on cost alone usually will leave you wanting. Ensure you ask the concerns regarding session fees As Well As print prices to see to it you are comfortable with all the costs before you reserve your session. An accomplished Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island who inspects all the boxes above will probably remain in need with several customers and also a hectic timetable. Their solutions will not be the least expensive that you will certainly discover, and also completely reason. Their competence, time, and also focus to information has actual value and worth. Its important that you discover a Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island who is initial and foremost a knowledgeable professional, and then make certain their prices fit your budget plan Rhode Island.

Points to Look For When Picking a Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island.

To start with, I don't seem like it is unreasonable to meet your photographer in person prior to the shoot with this kind of intimate digital photography. They are made use of to this sort of demand and also it truly does make the shoot go smoother. After all, you need to ensure that you fit with this person which you get in touch with them enough to not look or really feel nervous. Ask to see their printed job, which can differ a large amount from what you see online. Pay close attention to skin tones. Do they look natural? To individuals look also tan, pale, blue or red?

Ask a great deal of concerns. Let the photographer know what the least preferred thing is about on your own and have them tell you what they can do to focus on things that are you preferred. They must have the ability to tell you regarding flattering posing, lighting to decrease trouble spots, etc. Discuss the level of Photoshop that will be utilized. Do you intend to look perfect? Do you want to still see your laugh lines? There are lots of opportunities, and also your idea of the best amount of retouch may not coincide as the digital photographers.

You are entrusting a professional photographer with your safety and security in addition to with your images. Lots of expert females wish to know that their images will not be revealed anywhere and that nobody else will see them. See to it that this is covered in a contract. The digital photographer might desire you to authorize for authorization to upload in a password shielded gallery online, however make certain that this is the only way they can be seen online. Ensure the agreement mentions that the photos may not be made use of in any online or print marketing product.

Inquire regarding if the digital photographer has actually a recommended make-up artist he/she suches as to deal with. Commonly they have their favorites as well as this is something that makes a big distinction in the outcomes of your shoot. It is outstanding how a great one can still make you appear like "you", but the best possible you. It is truly an art form in itself and also is well worth the investment to have your make-up done before your shoot. It always is a great opportunity to spoil on your own.

When a woman determines to have boudoir photographs taken of herself for an event such as a wedding celebration, an anniversary, or for no factor whatsoever, she may think that she has actually made the hardest choice of the process. Once any stress and anxiety or apprehensiveness at the suggestion of beauty photography has actually been handled and she prepares to explore the beauty as well as charm of the type, it might effectively appear that the worst is over. Yet, now a brand-new difficulty arises: in fact dealing with the process. For a newbie to boudoir digital photography, it may be hard to know that to visit, that to trust fund, and what to do. Here are some handy tips in finding a Boudoir Photographer Rhode Island you can trust.

High quality

If you're going to do something like boudoir digital photography, you're mosting likely to want to make sure it's done right. The most effective way to do this is to shop around. The internet site of the studio in question is an excellent area to start. There you'll have the ability to view sample pictures in their galleries as well as see what type of job you'll really be getting and get a concept of how your final product will certainly look. While evaluating the example pictures, pay attention to the lights, the setting, and also the electronic retouching. Not all workshops offer electronic enhancement. You'll likewise have the ability to see the credentials of the professional photographer you'll be collaborating with. You'll desire a seasoned workshop and an experienced digital photographer. With the rise of bedroom photography, some wedding event professional photographers have actually started to take up glamour fires on the side. This might be cost effective, yet it might not be the level of quality or experience that you're searching for.

Picture as well as Variety

Another facet of the workshop that should have some attention is the type of digital photography that they create. If you have a details picture in mind that you want to convey, you require to ensure that the workshop provides that alternative, as not all workshops operate the same way. You likewise need to ensure that they really permit the type of photos that you desire. Some bedroom studios permit full nakedness, even permitting making use of suggestive props. Various other studios do not enable any kind of nakedness whatsoever, as well as there is an entire range between both extremes. Discovering the ideal suitable for you as well as the exact pictures that you want is key in the boudoir experience.

Input

Not all studios offer client input, and this may be a concern. If you don't expensive on your own the artistic type as well as intend to leave the photo job to the specialists, then this might not be a huge bargain to you. However, these are your pictures for your loved one, and also they are of you as well as you alone. If contributing to the last choice, the touch-ups, and the process in its entirety are essential to you, you require to consider this when choosing a professional photographer.

These straightforward pointers will certainly go a long means when selecting a workshop and making certain that it's the right studio for you. Boudoir photography is all about a special end product, as well as it is essential to make sure that the results you obtain are the ones that you desire.