#mannequin pro

[secretsdemannequin]

Mannequin professionnel vs amateur

  Quelle est la différence entre un mannequin professionnel et un mannequin amateur ? Pour les mannequins en herbe ce n’est pas toujours simple d’agir comme un pro dès le début. Grâce à cet article vous allez exactement savoir quoi faire pour avoir l’air immédiatement plus professionnel. On va observer sous trois angles différents : tout d’abord les généralités c’est-à-dire ce qu’il faut toujours…

[isbergillustration]

Pretty lost, but picking up some good radio stations out here

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a comic set in the parantural au, drawn in the parantural style, in which all the Hargreeves except Five are kids and Five is a teacher at their school.

Panel 1: Five's bedroom. He is seen sleeping next to Delores the mannequin. Klaus suddenly barges in through the window, shouting "Five, theres a spirit thing!" Five shouts back "WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE."

Panel 2: Allison climbs in after Klaus. She says, "We tried to text you first!"

Panel 3: Five blearily checks his phone. A notification reads "Sent 3 sec. ago. Child A: 5 THERES A THING"

Panel 4: Five rolls over and rubs his face, saying "Ugh, fine, I'll come help. Just get out!"

Panels 5 - 8: Five rolls out of bed, puts on a bathrobe, and teleports downstairs. He opens his front door to find Klaus and Allison looking up at him. They both say "Hi."

Panel 9: A white box labeled "Cool spirit fight scene that I'm not drawing"

Panel 10: Five looks suspiciously down at Allison, reaching over her head. He says, "Why are you still here." Allison aloofly says "No reason. Where's this woman you married without telling anyone?"

Panel 11: An image of Delores, who is actually a giant bug spirit, appears behind Five, who looks uncomfortable. He says, "Uh. None of your business."

Panel 12: They are revealed to be standing on Five's front porch, as Five opens the door. He says "If I give you hot chocolate will you leave," and Allison responds "Deal."

Panel 13: In Five's warmly lit kitchen, Allison delightedly drinks a mug of hot chocolate and Five pours himself coffee. End ID.]

sometimes you encounter a spirit problem you can't solve on your own and you break into your teacher's house about it. and then because in addition to being your teacher hes also a family friend you decide to interrogate him about why hes being so weird and secretive. Just normal things!

[relics-system]

feeling a bit better, so heres something

New headmate..

Hello I am Icarus, or the mannequin! It/Its

Im not quite rain world related but I wish to stick around here, Dr. Kel is here after all!

And I come with goodies!

which I will do In a seperate post..!

[whitespaceyuki]

BARKBEETLE CAUGHT IN 4K!!!!!!!!

BARKBEETLE SPREAD!!!!!! i post on twitter earlier and faster and i also post wips rhere so YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT!!!! (ps3master37)

[gothamphantomgoat]

[katsu28]

operation mistletoe

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: all it takes is one meddling lando norris and some mistletoe at the mclaren holiday party for oscar and yourself to admit your true feelings for each other. (2.2k)

a/n: day two with osc! enjoy <3

“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him.” 

Lando is currently laying spread eagle on your kitchen floor, tossing a padel ball above his head while you shove a packet of popcorn into the microwave for your movie night. 

His question is out of the blue, but you know what he's talking about. Lando is wondering why you won’t tell a certain Aussie you both work with that you have feelings for him.

He’s been wondering for a while now, bordering on a year since you’d accidentally let it slip to him—almost half the time said Aussie has been part of McLaren. 

You scoff. “Have you sent it into the barriers too many times? That’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“But why?” He presses, sounding exasperated. You can’t see him around the island counter, but you can imagine that squinty eyed, scrunchy nosed look he always gets when he doesn’t understand something. You’ve seen it almost overwhelmingly often in the few years you’ve been friends. 

“First of all, we work together. If I tell Oscar that I like him and he doesn’t like me back, I’d never be able to show my face at MTC ever again,” You reason, searching for a bowl to put the popcorn in once it's done. 

It’s actually something you’ve put quite a bit of thought into when weighing the pros and cons of telling Oscar about your feelings. 

“I’d have to find a new job, but that might take forever, so I’d have to move back in with my parents until I find one—if I find one—and I’m pretty sure my mum turned my bedroom into a yoga space the moment I’d left for uni, so I’d have to move into the basement. And then the job I find might not even be around here, so I’d have to move back out of my parents’ place and find another place to live, and you know how expensive things are in some cities! I’d have to find roommates, and I don’t really fancy living with strangers somewhere I don’t know.” 

Lando has taken a seat at the counter when you turn back around with the bowl in your hands, staring at you with the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen gracing his dumb face. 

“I reckon you’re overthinking things just a smidge,” He says flatly. He thinks you’re being dramatic. You’d call it brainstorming possible worst scenarios. 

You scowl, dumping the freshly popped kernels into said bowl before shoving it towards him. “You don’t know that.” 

He shovels a mouthful of it into his mouth on your way to the couch, sprawling out the length of it with his socked feet in your lap. “I’m pretty sure he fancies you too.” 

“Did he tell you that?” You raise a brow, swatting his feet off you. 

“Well, no, but I’m very perceptive.” 

“I saw you once say excuse me to a mannequin in a race suit at MTC because you weren’t paying attention to where you were going.” 

“Oi, fuck you!” Lando huffs, donkey kicking you lightly in the thigh. “You promised you’d never bring that up again. All I’m saying is that you should just man up and tell him flat out.” 

“I should what?” 

“Shit, I mean—well. Woman up? I guess?” He wonders, squinting one eye shut. “I dunno, really, but still. You never know how he’ll react. Could turn out mint.” 

“Can we not talk about it anymore? Please?” You groan, letting your head tip back against the cushions. “I just feel a little pathetic right now.” You feel Lando pat your head. 

“You’re not pathetic. Love just sucks,” He says sympathetically. “But sure, we don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

-------

True to his word, Lando doesn’t bring it up for weeks. In hindsight, you should’ve taken it as a sign of him planning something, but you’ve been busy with other things. 

Nothing happens until the McLaren holiday party, right after the FIA awards in Rwanda. Someone yells your name from afar as you’re going for a second drink, and when you turn to see who it is, you spot Lando waving wildly at you, gesturing for you to come over. 

Before you can even say anything when you approach, he grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor. He walks and walks and walks, still not saying a word despite your constant badgering. 

Finally, he stops and takes you by the shoulders, maneuvering you a few steps to one side, forward a few steps. Then he nods once, backing up with his hands out in front of him. “Do me a favor, just wait right here for a second.” 

“What? Lando, what’re you—”

“No, no, no, this is important, I promise. Just stay there. Maybe close your eyes too if you could, that’d be mint.” 

Despite your confusion, you oblige, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear his footsteps retreat, but then nothing for a suspiciously long time. Had he just stuck you here and run off like an absolute wanker? 

A shoulder bumps yours before you can jump to any more conclusions, and it startles you. 

“What the hell is going on?” You question, frowning. Nothing but silence. “Lando? Are you there?” 

“Erm, nope. Not Lando.” 

Fuck. You know that voice. That voice makes your heart do a stupid tap dance against your rib cage every time you hear it.

Your eyes fly open to meet an extremely familiar pair of brown ones. Oscar’s eyes. Oscar is standing right in front of you, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“Oscar!” You exclaim, feeling your face flame hot. 

You can’t help the surprise seeping into your voice. To see him there isn’t something you were expecting at all, and it certainly doesn’t help that he looks extremely handsome, almost glowing with happiness fresh off the end of a successful season for the team. The blue suit he has on clings to him in just the right ways, and his cheeks have a pink flush to them.

“Hi,” He says awkwardly. You aren’t quite certain what to do at the moment, or what even is happening right now. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“I don’t, actually. Lando just told me to stay here and that he’d be right back,” You admit.

Oscar lets out a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat. “Yeah, same, he told me it was something important. I’m not sure where he went, though.” 

He brings up a good point. Where had Lando gone?

Your phone buzzes in your hand at that moment, Lando’s name flashing across the screen when you glance at it. “Hang on, he’s just texted me,” You inform Oscar, angling your phone towards him as if whatever the message says will explain everything. 

Lando: Look up. 

Both of you look up at the same time, and what you see makes your heart drop into your ass. 

A sprig of mistletoe dangles from a haphazardly tied piece of string attached to the beam above. 

That fucker. You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill Lando Norris. 

“Is that—that’s not mistletoe, is it?” Oscar squints up at the tiny plant, tilting his head. 

“It is,” You sigh, fighting the urge to go find Lando and strangle him with your bare hands. “I want you to know I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was all your idiot teammate.” 

Oscar laughs a little bit, shoulders shaking. “No, I know it’s all him. He thinks he’s hilarious.” 

“He sure does.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told him he’s not,” He replies. Then he shifts on his feet, reaching up to run a nervous hand through his hair. “You look really nice, by the way. Been meaning to tell you that all night, but there’s so many people here I couldn’t find you. Until now, it seems.” 

All night. Oscar has been looking for you all night, just to tell you that you look nice. He’s making it really hard not to fall for him a little bit more. 

“Thank you, Oscar. You clean up well too.” 

He looks down at himself, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “You think so? I didn’t know if the two shades of blue were too much.” 

“No, they look great. Really.” 

A sudden silence blankets the two of you, and you hate it. You wish you were better at holding conversation, but with Oscar, all your thoughts seem to go right out the window. 

“We should go—” 

“D’you want to—” 

“Sorry, sorry, you first,” You insist, pressing your lips together. 

“Sure, yeah. I was just, uh, asking if you’d maybe want to…y’know.” He glances up at the mistletoe, then back to you, and if you aren’t mistaken, he looks a little hopeful. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I’m not—I wouldn’t force you or anything. I just…yeah, we could, if that’s something you’d be into.” 

“Oh!” You blink at him owlishly, completely caught off guard by his suggestion. Oscar wants to kiss you. Is this real life, or has Lando just played the ultimate cruelest prank on you?

“Tradition-wise, and all. I heard you’re cursed with bad luck for years if you break it,” He adds hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Definitely wouldn’t want that.” 

“Definitely not,” He echoes, bobbing his head. What comes out of his mouth next is entirely out of the blue. “Did you know the word mistletoe comes from two Anglo Saxon words? Mistel, which means dung, and tan, which basically means branch.” 

“No, I did not know that! That’s…very interesting,” You say enthusiastically, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell the laugh threatening to spill out. If it were anyone else, you’d think it was quite weird, but Oscar’s word vomit is strangely endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It’s disgusting, and you didn’t ask. Erm, wow, I’m—” 

“Oscar.” 

“Yeah?” He squeaks, pale cheeks rosy with embarrassment. 

You push forward instead of saying anything else, pressing your lips against his briefly. It’s a split second kiss, but it’s all you can manage without feeling like you’re doing something monumentally stupid. Still, it’s enough to send a zip of something thrilling through your veins. 

When you pull back, Oscar’s eyes are wide, and immediately you think you’ve made a mistake. You open your mouth to blurt an excuse, an apology, anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Will you go out with me?” You falter at the sudden question, totally caught off guard, and it seems to make him panic. “Oh. Oh no. Did I get this completely wrong?” 

“No! No, you didn’t,” You say quickly, reaching out to take his hand. His shoulders slump in relief, fingers already tightening around yours. “I’d love to go out with you, Osc.” 

“Thank god, or this would’ve been really awkward,” He sighs. “Looks like Lando did something right today.” 

“For the first time in his life, probably.” 

“In all fairness, I don’t think I would’ve had the balls to ask you out otherwise,” Oscar admits sheepishly. You hum your agreement. It turns out Lando being a nosy meddler of a friend has its benefits sometimes. “Think we should thank him or something?” 

“Definitely not. His ego would get way too big.” 

Lando looks entirely too smug when the two of you return to the party, eyes immediately zeroing in on your joined hands. “I take it the mistletoe went over well?” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You shrug casually, glancing over at Oscar to see him do the same. 

“Alright, fine. Be like that. You’re welcome, by the way. I expect a mad good Christmas present from both of you this year, I hope you know that.”

Oscar blinks. “But I already got you a set of tea towels.” 

“Ugh, spoiler!” Lando huffs, shoulders slumping. “Also, what are we—fifty? I mean, tea towels! Really, Osc?” 

“You said yours were ugly!” 

You make an offended noise from the back of your throat, furrowing your eyebrows. “I got you those towels for secret santa two years ago, you asshole.” 

“You did? Jesus, you two really are meant for each other,” Lando snorts, shaking his head. 

Oscar just grins over at you, giving a little tilt of his head as if to say great minds think alike. 

“By the way, we’ve got to get onstage soon, so if you’d stop making goo goo eyes at each other so we could get a move on, that’d be great.” 

“Oh. Alright.” Oscar’s smile fades as his gaze flicks back to you, seemingly displeased that he has to leave you so soon. “D’you mind if I…” 

“Go on, bring out the trophy. I’ll be right here,” You assure him, stepping in to drop a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Once they’re onstage little while later, Oscar’s already found you in the crowd, and as they lift the impressive trophy high in the air, he’s only looking at you, beaming so unbelievably bright it might just rival the sun. You smile right back at him, the pride you have both for this team and the two boys onstage just barely contained. 

This night marks the start of new beginnings, both for McLaren and for your relationship with a certain Aussie. And just like the 2025 season, you’re excited to see what next year will hold. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Asylum Spider]

A/N: This feels a little bit strange to post. It's an older OC (the drawing I used is like 3 years old) I had for a horror manga. I thought it would make a good yandere if you're into actual monsters. And the atmosphere is a lot like an indie horror rpg. :)

You wake up in a damp, dark room with no recollection of how you ended up here. Hovering above you is a repugnant beast whose appearance terrifies you into silence. Yet it doesn’t attack you. Quite the opposite, it seems to want to guide you outside. You must escape quickly, as whatever lurks above causes the creature to squirm in fear. Yet as departure approaches, a desire blooms within its ancient heart: must you really leave it behind?

TW: Monsters, horror, implied violence/abuse

Your vision is blurry and your head is throbbing with a harrowing, unbearable headache. You've been awakened from your unexplainable slumber by cold yet burning drops of liquid hitting your cheek at irregular intervals. You squint and try to focus on whatever lies before you. Slowly, the object becomes sharper and your eyes widen in terror. Drooling above you, a monstrosity. It looks almost human. Sharp, curved teeth are grotesquely gawking their way out. The skin is discolored, similar to the blueish tint of someone struck by hypothermia. The creature seems to be wearing a strange sort of straight jacket, tightly securing the arms and ending in a shredded rag, dangling between the skinny, crooked legs. Yet the most disturbing feature are the massive arthropod appendages that fan out from behind, suspending the abomination above ground.

The ridiculous, offensive sight drains the blood from your face and you hold your breath. You wait for the final blow that never arrives. It lowers its head and inhales deeply, trying to detect if you're still alive. Satisfied with the answer, it scurries aside and leaves you enough space to lift yourself up. The wide smile remains plastered on its face, making it look like a deformed mannequin. With nothing left to lose, you decide to risk it. "Can you talk?" you mumble, unsure about the potential response. It shakes its head in denial and you raise your eyebrows. So it can understand human speech.

You stand up and look around. There's a pungent smell irritating your nostrils, and large pipes slither their way over walls and ceilings in a maze of rusted metal. The floor is flooded and your ankles are sunken in murky water. Above the only door hangs an old plaque, eaten by mold and age. "W∎ter & Drain∎∎∎: Pro∎∎rty of ∎∎∎∎∎ Asylum". Ah. This must be the sewers, then. How did you even end up in the sewers of an asylum? Maybe someone upstairs can provide you with answers. You turn to the creature that has been obediently observing you.

"Can you take me to the main building?"

The humanoid spider screeches and trashes its appendages across the water. You jolt and step back instinctively. Is it mad? Have you upset it somehow? No, if anything, it looks afraid. You stare at its bizarre convulsions until it occurs to you the movements aren't quite as erratic as you assumed. It is drawing something using a swamped patch of ground.

Don't let find you Get out

You're choking with dread again. The ominous words send a cold chill down your spine and you shiver, helpless.

"How am I supposed to get out if I don't know where the exit is?" You demand with your last ounce of energy. 

It wobbles its way towards the door, and stops to face you expectantly. Is it offering to guide you? You're not quite sure whether to trust the ghoulish creature, but the rotting room is filling you with panic. 

Anything is better than being alone here. 

What a suffocating atmosphere. The corridors are tall, narrow and black. You can barely discern anything around you and the only sounds are the ghastly echoes of the metal creaking and bending from the water pressure. That, and your uncertain steps across the muddy flow. You glance at the creature. Its eyes are covered by a leather blindfold, so the darkness mustn't be an impediment for it. Then again, how can it tell its way within this colossal labyrinth?

"Is this where you live?" you whisper, trying to make conversation. You need something to distract you from your pounding heart.

It nods hesitantly. 

Your foot hits something and you instinctively attempt to kick it off. Perhaps some algae that begun developing in this forgotten grave. It seems to have wrapped around your ankle, so you bend down to remove it with your hands. It's a soaked sheet of paper. The ink has mostly diffused into the page, but you can still read some of the larger headlines. "Dozens have disappeared. The mystery of the abandoned Asylum, believed to be haunted by the countless victims of horrid experimentation". Next to the title is a photograph too smudged to make out.

You stop in your tracks, focused on the blurry letters. The monster patiently waits for you. Is it something to be asked? You gaze up at its features, trying to take in the details. You take a deep breath in and open your mouth. 

"Did they...um...do this to you upstairs?"

It seems to ponder your question with the same unfaltering grin that now feels painfully forced. Finally, it nods.

What a strange little creature you are. He returns your curious stare. Now that he thinks about it, you must be the very first person to follow him. When was the last time he spoke to another living creature? He can't remember. The others would panic beyond control at the mere sight of him, blindly running away and getting lost in the sewers. Later he'd find their bodies quickly decomposing under the running water, and he'd dispose of them outside. No one deserves to die here. The really unfortunate ones made it upstairs, into the asylum. He'd rather not brood over it. 

Yet here you are, asking questions and walking alongside him as if you were on a stroll. He doubts he's gotten less hideous over the years. Then again, he can't see to confirm. Just as he can't see you. Despite his lack of vision, he is overwhelmed by the feeling that you're a beautiful being. You must be. And thankfully, you won't have to worry yourself with any of the horrors lurking these cursed grounds for much longer. He'll help you escape.

Then he'll be alone once more. It shouldn't bother him this much, it's always been like this. But meeting you has reminded him just how much he missed the presence of another human, how dearly he longed for a kind voice. Is it selfish to fear isolation? 

"Oh! You're right, I can see a gate from here." You exclaim in gratitude. 

You sprint towards the rusty bars and feel a cool breeze against your skin. This must lead outside. The creature has kept its word. Soon enough all of this will be a nightmare of the past.

"I-" 

The monster seems to be making an effort to speak, but all that comes out is a dissonant croak. You're confused and he can sense it. 

Must you really leave him behind? He needs to let you know that he'd like to stay with you, but his throat is contracting pointlessly and there's nothing he can use as a writing surface. What is there to do? His chest is tightening with the frenzied desire to keep you with him forever.

Please don't leave him.

[secretsdemannequin]

Les coulisses d'un défilé de mode

Découvrir les coulisses d’un défilé de mode, cela t’intéresse ? C’est ce qu’on va voir dans cet article. Aujourd’hui j’ai prévu de vous emmener avec moi dans les coulisses d’un défilé. 🙂 Je vais vous expliquer dans un premier temps comment est- ce que je me prépare pour un défilé. Et après, vous me suivrez sur ce défilé que je vais faire à l’étranger, dans une ville européenne que je vais…

[maxwell-grant]

So is Worm good from what you have read

"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.

It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)

Everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).

And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric. It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.

Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.

It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.

[mail-me-a-snail]

I would love insight into how you animate so smoothly in gmod

hi!! so i use the ragdoll mover and the stop motion helper add-ons :D

you use the timeline seen on the bottom of the screenshot to create your key frames and everything else in between ☝️ now i am no pro animator and what little i know ive picked up from various tutorial videos over the years....

stop motion helper has a great video tutorial for the very basics of how to use it! as for the process of animation itself well ummm i can really only link the 12 principles of animation, as i've mentioned that im no expert on the topic.

here's a video i made for the occasion--and i hope you don't mind, but i borrowed bolts for this demonstration ^_^ (i recognize the irony of using a robot to demonstrate fluid movements, but if other animators can use mannequins...)

had to put the video (unlisted ofc) on yt cause it got longer than i expected it to >_>

see the finished product below the cut!! had 2 mega compress it bc of tumblr's 10mb gif limit grrr but you can see it more clearly in the video anyway

[mariacallous]

On Boxing Day pro-Palestine demonstrators met customers at the Zara sale in the Westfield shopping centre, in Stratford, east London. They were not there to wish them the compliments of the season.

‘Bombs are dropping while you’re shopping,’ they chanted, as police stood by to make sure the protests did not turn violent. ‘Zara is enabling genocide,’ their placards read.

Quite what they wanted bargain hunters to do about the Israeli forces bombing the Gaza Strip, they never said. Lobby their MPs? Politicians are on their Christmas holidays. Join the Palestinian armed struggle?  It was unclear whether the shopping centre had a Hamas recruitment office.

But on one point the demonstrators were certain: no one should be buying from Zara. Even though the fashion chain has not encouraged Israel’s war against Hamas, earned income from it, or supported Israel in any material way, it was nevertheless “exploiting a genocide and commodifying Palestine's pain for profit”.

Zara, in short, has become the object of a paranoid fantasy: a QAnon conspiracy theory for the postcolonial left.

The Zara conspiracy is an entirely modern phenomenon. It has no original author. Antisemitic Russians sat down and wrote the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in the early 20th century. There was an actual “Q” behind the QAnon conspiracy: a far-right activist who first appeared on 4chan message boards in 2017 to claim that a cabal of child abusers was conspiring against Donald Trump.

The Zara conspiracy was mass produced by social media users: an example of the madness of crowds rather than their supposed wisdom. The cause of the descent into hysteria was bizarre.

In early December Zara launched an advertising campaign featuring the model Kristen McMenamy wearing its latest collection in a sculptor’s studio. It clearly was a studio, by the way, and not a war zone in southern Israel or Gaza. McMenamy carried a mannequin wrapped in white fabric. The cry went up that the Spanish company was exploiting the suffering of Palestinians and that the mannequin was meant to represent a victim of Israeli aggression wrapped in a shroud.

The accusation was insane. No one in the photo shoot resembled a soldier or a casualty of war. Anyone who thought for 30 seconds before resorting to social media would have known that global brands plan their advertising campaigns months in advance.

Zara said the campaign presented “a series of images of unfinished sculptures in a sculptor’s studio and was created with the sole purpose of showcasing craft-made garments in an artistic context”. The idea for the studio setting was conceived in July. The photo shoot was in September, weeks before the Hamas assault on Israel on 7 October.

No one cared. Melanie Elturk, the CEO of fashion brand Haute Hijab, said of the campaign, ‘this is sick. What kind of sick, twisted, and sadistic images am I looking at?’ #BoycottZara trended on Twitter, as users said that Zara was ‘utterly shameful and disgraceful”’.

To justify their condemnations, activists developed ever-weirder theories. A piece of cardboard in the photoshoot was meant to be a map of Israel/Palestine turned upside down. Because a Zara executive had once invited an extreme right-wing Israeli politician to a meeting, the whole company was damned.

Astonishingly, or maybe not so astonishingly to anyone who follows online manias, the fake accusations worked. Zara stores in Glasgow, Toronto. Hanover, Melbourne and Amsterdam were targeted.

What on earth could Zara do? PR specialists normally say that the worst type of apology is the non-apology apology, when a public figure or institution shows no remorse, but instead says that they are sorry that people are offended. Yet Zara had not sought to trivialize or profit from the war so what else could it do but offer a non-apology apology? The company duly said it was sorry that people were upset.

“Unfortunately, some customers felt offended by these images, which have now been removed, and saw in them something far from what was intended when they were created,” it said on 13 December, and pulled the advertising campaign

That was two-weeks ago and yet still the protests in Zara stores continue. On 23 December activists targeted Zara on Oxford Street chanting , 'Zara, Zara, you can't hide, stop supporting genocide', even though Zara was not, in fact,  supporting genocide. On Boxing Day, they were at the Stratford shopping centre.

Zara has apologised for an offence it did not commit. There is no way that any serious person can believe the charges against it. And yet believe them the protestors do. Or at the very least they pretend to believe for the sake of keeping in with their allies.

Maybe nothing will come of the protests. One could have argued in 2017, after all, that QAnon was essentially simple-minded people living out their fantasies online. Certainly, every sane American knew that there was no clique of paedophiles running the Democrat party, but where was the harm in the conspiracy theory?

Then QAnon supporters stormed the US capitol in January 2021. Will the same story play out from the Gaza protests? As far as I can tell, no one on the left is challenging the paranoia. I have yet to see the fact-checkers of the BBC and Channel 4 warning about the fake news on the left with anything like the gusto with which they treat its counterparts on the right.

To be fair, the scale of disinformation around the Gaza war is off the charts, and it is impossible to chase down every lie. But when fake news goes from online fantasies to real world protests, from 4chan to the Capitol, from Twitter to the Westfield shopping centre, it’s worth taking notice.

Sensible supporters of a Palestinian state ought to be the most concerned. No one apart from fascists, Islamists and far leftists believes that Israel should not defend itself. And yet the scale of its military action in Gaza is outraging world opinion. Mainstream politicians, who might one day put pressure on Israel, remain very wary about reflecting the anger on the streets.

They look at the insane conspiracy theories on the western left and see them as no different from the insane conspiracy theories that motivate Hamas, and they back away.

The Palestinians need many things: an end to the Netanyahu government, and an end to Hamas. But they could also use allies in the West who do not discredit their cause with dark, gibbering fantasies.

[solanelia]

fashion student essentials — a lookbook

books, pencils, pencil case + airpod pros | laptop + camera | swatches, etc. (dhd game pack)

raybans + case | off-white sunglasses, wallet, balenciaga le city bag, phone | ipad, coffee, airpod maxes

louboutins | lg jewelry tray, sm jewelry tray, earrings, gift bag | underwear + socks

trolley + garment bag | boots + shoe box | chanel purse box

magazines | mannequin | shopping bags

i’ve been using these items in tandem with @danitysimmer’s fashion student/designer mods in my current household, and i’m having such a good time. definitely my favorite gameplay mod rn so go check it out!

enjoy! ♡

[yokohamapound]

how ab head cannons of how good bsd men are at taking bras off like kinda ranking them ig

i have my own theories ab it so maybe we can compare them?

My magnificent friend, @amostimprobabledream, is guest-posting on this one! She's the one who got me into BSD, so this blog is entirely her fault!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Tanizaki Jun'ichiro, Kunikida Doppo, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, Nakajima Atsushi, Edgar Allan Poe

Contents: Yiddies

Dazai Osamu

The obvious winner here. The Pro. The champ.

Dazai is a slut, and when they aren't threatening him for not paying back his tab, he's perfectly able to have the ladies falling at his feet. He's definitely got plenty of experience with getting a lady out of her clothing and scoffs at pitiful men who can't figure out how to unhook simple clasps. Fools! Barbarians!

He can do it one-handed. He prefers it when you wear front-clasp bras because he takes it as a sign you're just as eager for him to get at your boobs as he is. Imagine those pretty fingers easily working the little hooks~

He does sometimes wear your bra on his head as a joke. So you know, that's a risk you run.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Listen this man has been around, okay? He almost single-handedly toppled the Port Mafia and Armed Detective Agency, he can handle a silly contraption of cotton and underwiring.

Fyodor doesn't like to tear at your clothing like a beast. He has class, okay? Instead he might as you to strip for him - just picture him lounging back in his seat, wineglass in hand while he watches you with those hungry, purple eyes of his. It's worth it just for that to put on a little show for him.

He likes to kiss you as he does it, distracting you as his nimble, pale fingers get to work. He's so skilled that he can actually unhook your bra without you even noticing and you'll find it discarded on a chair or the floor like a magic trick.

Edogawa Ranpo

Hmph, of course he can take off a bra! Don't be silly!

Ranpo is the ultimate detective, after all. A silly little hook in a piece of clothing isn't going to stump him. However, Ranpo is also lazy when he isn't motivated and while if he's focused on getting you naked, he'll probably whine for you to just take the bra off yourself - you're faster at it, he's seen the way you fling the thing off after a long day like it's a snake, so why not? He just wants to see your boobs!

Don't worry, he more than makes up for it once your bra hits the ground. He's very good with that mouth of his.

Tanizaki Juni'ichiro

Yes, he is good at taking off bras… No, I will not elaborate.

Kunikida Doppo

Yes, he does know how to take off a bra. The problem is that Kunikida rarely gets to practise on actual, living women - he's only done it on a bra just lying limp in his hand or on a mannequin. Doing it while in the throes of a heated makeout session is quite different.

You'll be there, getting all hot and heavy, and suddenly feel a tugging at your bra and a lot of frustrated huffing and puffing. He'll bark at you to hold still - not in a sexy way but in that "maths teacher" voice he still has buried deep. It's rather a mood-killer.

He's also one of those irritating people who won't let you just take the damn thing off yourself - he feels like he has to prove he's worth of touching your boobs by conquering the bra. Also, Dazai would never let him live it down if he couldn't do it.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Not only does Akutagawa not know how to take off a bra, but he's too prideful to ask you to do it. Instead he has a very impractical solution of just using Rashomon to slice it off you. He's too impatient to bother with fiddling around with it - remember this is a man who doesn't even know the name of the frilly thing he wears on his neck.

Don't wear your nice bras around Akutagawa, or just go for a sports bra you can pull off over your heard. Nothing is worth your fancy, expensive new lingerie being ruined by a horny goth boy.

Nakajima Atsushi

I don't even think Atsushi has been near a bra before, let alone touched one. He has no idea how they work - he actually thought it was held together by little magnets. He'll try but he gets nervous and will tug at the material, scared of accidentally tearing it. He knows bras are expensive, he's heard Yosano and Lucy complain about it enough times.

He'll be astonished if you can do it without even looking.

Edgar Allen Poe:

Faints if you even mention the word 'bra'. You'll have to fan him awake or fetch the smelling salts.

[the-spam-specialist]

Same Anon!

What about father and son bonding at the digital carnival? Kinger being the pro he is teaching Caine how to use a shot gun. It goes as well as you'd expect.

At long last. An excuse to give Caine a gun.

Father-Son Target Practice

Characters: Caine, Kinger

Word Count: 700-ish

It was nighttime in the digital world. But the patrons of the circus were far from inactive. Quite the opposite, actually. Caine had updated the digital carnival to have a nighttime mode, where everything was lit up and shiny, just like a carnival in the real world! 

The other circus members were off having fun while Caine spent some time with Kinger. He hovered alongside the chess piece, happily chatting with him. But that all came to a grinding halt when Caine suddenly spotted something. 

"Oh my goodness!" Caine exclaimed, his voice laced with awe. He was staring at the duck shooting game, but not at the ducks. His gaze was locked on a prize hanging behind the counter: a bear dressed as a bee. Its plush fur was a sunshine yellow, adorned with black stripes, and it wore tiny, adorable antennae. "Kinger, have you ever seen anything so magnificent?!"

(One of the circus members getting excited over a cutely dressed bear prize for a carnival game? Why did this feel familiar?)

Kinger followed Caine's gaze and chuckled warmly. "It is quite cute. Definitely something up your alley. Do you fancy winning it?"

Caine's enthusiasm deflated slightly. "Oh, I don't know. My marksmanship isn't exactly…renowned. Remember that knife-throwing trick with Pomni? Or the balloon darts game? Catastrophe." He shuddered dramatically, teeth chattering slightly.

Kinger laid a reassuring hand on Caine’s shoulder. “Nonsense, Caine. We’ll figure it out together. Come on." He beckoned Caine closer to the shooting stand.

Kinger picked up one of the toy shotguns, its plastic frame surprisingly sturdy. He gently guided Caine, adjusting his grip on the gun. "Hold it like this, Caine. And keep your eye right here, looking down the barrel." He straightened Caine's posture, ensuring he was perfectly aligned with the target. "Alright, now breathe, and focus."

Caine, despite being an AI, seemed to actually take a deep breath. He squeezed the trigger. Click. Miss.

He tried again. Click. Another miss. Kinger patiently adjusted Caine’s stance, offering words of encouragement. "Just a little to the left. You almost had it!"

Two more shots rang out, both missing their mark. Caine’s shoulders slumped. "I told you, Kinger. I'm hopeless when it comes to aiming."

"Don't give up, Caine!" Kinger insisted, his voice firm but gentle. "You have one more shot. You're almost there. Just a little more focus. I know you can do it!"

Caine closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and visualized the duck exploding in a shower of digital feathers. Despite it not actually having feathers. He squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

A digital duck tumbled from its perch.

Caine’s eyes sparkled, "I did it! I actually hit one!" He turned to Kinger, his grin wide. "Did you see that, Kinger?"

Kinger beamed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I did, Caine! I'm so proud of you!"

But their celebration was short-lived. The mannequin behind the counter, its expression frozen in a perpetual, vacant smile, droned, "Five ducks in a row required to win a prize."

Caine's face fell. He looked back at the bee-bear, his initial excitement replaced with disappointment. He knew he wouldn't be able to hit four more. Especially not in a row.

Kinger, seeing the crestfallen look on Caine's face, felt a surge of something protective well up inside him. Without a word, he snatched another toy shotgun from the rack. Before Caine could even react, Kinger’s fingers moved with surprising dexterity. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Four ducks exploded in rapid succession.

The mannequin didn’t have a face to express emotion, but it did visibly tense. Kinger, still holding the shotgun, slowly turned his gaze towards the mannequin, narrowing his eyes. His usual kind, fatherly expression was replaced by something much more…intense.

"That makes five. Now then, I believe you owe my son something."

The mannequin seemed to understand the unspoken threat. With a jerky movement, it grabbed the bee-bear and thrust it towards Caine. "W-Winner!" it squeaked, its voice cracking slightly.

Caine, completely oblivious to the silent standoff between Kinger and the mannequin, squeaked with joy. He grabbed the bee-bear and hugged it tightly. He showered the plush toy with affection.

Kinger, seeing Caine’s happiness, allowed his stern expression to soften. He placed a hand on Caine's shoulder and steered him away from the shooting stand.

“Come on, Caine. Let’s go show the others your new friend.”

As they walked away, Kinger casually dropped the toy shotgun back on the rack, his expression once again warm and benevolent. He pretended not to notice the shudder that ran through the mannequin's digital body. Tonight, Caine was happy, and that was all that mattered.

[the-time-travelers-admirer]

So, I'm not pro FivexLila and I don't ship any of them. But, from what I have seen spoiler wise, I feel it kinda shows what I've been saying about him all along. That Five craves and starves for love and intimacy and touch. To be loved, to love, to be seen, to be understood, to have an intimate bond with someone who gets him. To be with someone who brings out the soft lovely sappy old man he has inside of him.

I could see it in his eyes and expressions through all the gifs, screenshots, and clips. It's as plain as day. I do believe that like Dolores and Five's marriage, this love was caused by years of proximity and familiarity. I know Dolores was a mannequin, but when she was all Five had because he was the last man standing in the entire world, he projected his wants and feelings and desires onto her and developed true romantic feelings for her and she became his wife. And with how he treated and felt about Dolores, Five actually gives loving male wife vibes. He took care of her, was tender and loving with her, spoiled her, and was so gentle with her. I have a whole post about that on it's own somewhere.

I feel the same thing happened with him and Lila. They only had each other, were only stuck with each other, they had many shared traumas given the handler and the commission, they were familiar to each other, she knew him and he knew her, she knew of his actually old but young looking confliction but never really treated him as his looks, they did have a sort of chemistry, and were all alone with each other because the rest of their family were elsewhere.

So, to me, for Five it seems natural he caught feelings for Lila given the situation. Him feeling love and being loved looked good on him and I've always craved seeing him happy and with someone who got him and saw him and treated him well, but this is definitely wrong person wrong time.

And I feel that he has truly longed for a connection like that, but once they returned, his world was entirely flipped upside down and crashed and burned. And I can see he didn't want easily to let go of what he finally had and experienced, so he kind of snapped and didn't care that his brother's feelings were hurt because he most likely had that "Finally" feeling with Lila. He became out of character because he seemed to fall in love and then lost it all in the blink of an eye. So, he became bitter, jealous, vindictive, immature, mean, and essentially acted out. Which is actually common for many people once they catch feelings and it gets yanked away/ends abruptly for whatever ever reason.

I don't think he entirely didn't care that Lila was his brother's wife, I feel he just buried that fact and tried to not think about it because he finally felt the happy he wasn't look for and wanted to hold onto it with white knuckled iron fists.

With Lila, he looked soft, tender, content, in love, genuinely happy, and like his heart was on his sleeve. You can tell just by how he looked at her. It was truly written deep in his eyes. He deserved all that I have seen, as I've wanted it so bad for him for so many years, to be loved by someone who really saw him, but definitely wrong person wrong time by all accounts.

I'm happy to finally see the Five I've written for and about to actually exist and finally rise to the screen from within him, but him and Lila was not the way I wanted that to happen. Doesn't feel right.