#newlywed portrait

[rain-shoshana]

Hi my name is Rain (hi Rain) and I’m addicted to imagining my blorbos are at their wedding every time they wear evening clothes and stand next to each other.

[peaceinthestorm]

Carolus-Duran (1837-1917, French) ~ Le Baiser, 1868

[softerpixels]

the mitchells

faith mitchell - substitute teacher deon mitchell - athlete

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Carolus-Duran (1837-1917) "The Kiss" (1868) Oil on canvas Located in the Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille, Lille, France The painting is a self-portrait of the artist and his wife, fellow artist Pauline Carolus-Duran née Croizette, as newlyweds.

[the-crooked-library]

Creative Lineage - Dracula, Orlok, and the others

Here's the thing: the relationship between Nosferatu and Dracula is incredibly interesting - especially considering that Nosferatu (1922) was based on Dracula the book (1897), and most subsequent visual adaptations of Dracula for some reason used aspects of that film as inspiration, instead of adapting the original novel directly. As a result, there have always been endless comparisons between the two; but, in light of our most recent Nosferatu (2024), I must expand on what I personally think is their most significant (in regards to both plot development and analysis) difference.

TL;DR: it's characters. The main source of divergences between Dracula and Nosferatu is that these stories consist of vastly dissimilar characters, stuck in relatively similar situations.

I could go into heavy detail, and I will - under the cut, for the sake of all our dashboards.

At first glance, the stories of Dracula and Nosferatu are almost identical. The beginning sections follow the same essential plot beats - a young, newlywed solicitor travels to a creepy castle in Eastern Europe to assist a reclusive Count in his immigration to the West. This Count is, in fact, a vampire (otherwise known as a nosferatu), and terrorizes the young man for weeks, before departing and leaving him imprisoned; the solicitor escapes, is rescued from the wilderness by a nunnery, and returns home - where the Count has already begun his murderous process of settling in.

Here, in my opinion, is where the similarities end.

The key to understanding Nosferatu is remembering that Orlok is not Dracula; Thomas is not Jonathan; Ellen is not Mina, and so forth; and despite the mutual inspirations that affect each film adaptation of either story, the characters never react to the plot as a viewer would expect, if their precursory experience has been limited to only one or the other version.

Naturally, there are reasons for the continued addition of Nosferatu elements to Dracula adaptations. The most prominent of them is that, quite simply, audiences enjoy a fated, dangerous, inadvisable monster romance. By and large, we are titillated by the taboo; and - without adapting Le Fanu's Carmilla (1872), or adding a vampiric element to an adaptation of Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera (1910), or expanding on the queer elements of Jonathan Harker's sojourn in Transylvania - the easiest piece of classic media to sample for this sort of theme is Nosferatu (1922).

The 1922 film was, in a sense, an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula (at least, enough to get the creators sued by his estate). In its efforts to circumvent copyright laws, it plays fast and loose with Stoker's lore and characters, renaming the Harkers, the Count, and everyone else - and, crucially, adding an element of erotic fixation that the vampire develops upon seeing a portrait of his solicitor's young wife. While still overseas, he builds a psychic connection with the melancholy and sensitive Ellen; it is both horrifying and sensual, and ultimately what she uses to destroy him - sacrificing her own blood and life to keep him out of his coffin until cock-crow. Ellen dies, but the sunlight annihilates Count Orlok, and the ending is a bittersweet new dawn.

This fixated, possessive, murderous eroticism (first displayed in its currently recognizable form by Carmilla) has become a cornerstone of the vampire genre. Elements of it are recognizable even in relatively modern media like Interview with the Vampire, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight, as well as numerous Dracula adaptations (of which the 1992 Coppola film might be the most well-known); it is even present in other, indirect offshoots like NBC's Hannibal TV series. It is, therefore, essential to note that these overtones did not exist in the same way in Dracula the novel; and the reason for that is, specifically, a difference in character.

Count Dracula, while dangerous, vampiric, and psychic, does not possess that same singular fascination with any given character in Stoker's book (save perhaps for Jonathan Harker, temporarily). He does drain Lucy night after night, and his method of killing, like with all vampires of his type, is allegorically sexual; but it isn't personal. She keeps receiving blood transfusions - effectively, refills!.. Other than her blood, he has little interest in her. He has companionship enough already - after all, he lives with three female vampires, who may be courtesans or wives, but are colloquially referred to as Vampire Brides; and, additionally, he maintains ongoing communication with some of the people and animals that live on his land. As such, when he does bite Jonathan's wife Mina, it is a practical decision - made in order to establish a potential spy in a group of people who appear to be intent on hunting him down.

Similarly, Mina herself - despite the usual characterization of her film portrayals, which are in many ways epitomized by Coppola's 1992 version - was not originally a vulnerable maiden. She is confident and educated, she has worked for a living as an educator prior to her marriage, and she knows how to use a typewriter as well as shorthand. She has no emotional connection to Dracula whatsoever beyond pure incandescent hatred; and, frankly, forcing her into any sort of romance with him is deeply inaccurate to her character - because Mina Harker is endlessly in love with her husband Jonathan.

They may be on the lower end of middle-class, but relatively stable and planning a life together - not only as husband and wife, but as solicitor and secretary, as well. It's as close to a power couple as a novel from the 1890s will approach.

This is not the case for Ellen Hutter, largely because her social circumstances are far more precarious.

Unlike Mina, she has been forcibly isolated for the majority of her life. In that, she is yet another in the line of tragic madwomen of the gothic genre - mostly due to her eccentricities and her psychic gift, which (as the Eggers version specifies) manifested early in her childhood and became socially inexcusable during her teenage years, much like any real-world form of neurodivergence. It is implied that she has been institutionalized at some point as a result; and even prior to that, her father kept her confined indoors and away from other people in efforts to control her.

This isolation is what originally leads to her connection with Orlok - who was woken from his centuries-long deathlike sleep when he heard her reaching out into the ether, begging for a friend. Then, later in her life, the same circumstances unfortunately have a direct effect on her relationship with her husband Thomas, too; while she is attached to him, she cannot ignore that she is also utterly dependent on him as her ticket to a stable life, as well as out from under her father's thumb. Again, unlike Mina, she has no marketable skills or opportunities outside of this marriage; and while Thomas never shames her for her past, he still pressures her to ignore and repress it. The manifestations of her psychic ability concern, then unsettle, then frighten him - and, ultimately, there is a transactional aspect to their union. Thomas expects himself to move ahead in the world, like his friend Friedrich; and Ellen is expected to eventually become normal. She is expected to become a happy, pretty wife and mother like Anna Harding - because, while Thomas cares for her and fully intends to provide for her, he refuses to actually understand her.

Furthermore, it must be noted that leaving her father's estate for her husband's house did not entirely save Ellen from her isolation. Unlike Mina, she has no real friends of her own. Her only friend in the 2024 film is Anna, her husband's best friend's wife; and in the 1922 original, even that tentative affection is unclear. As such, Orlok remains the only character that truly knows and accepts her as she is - which inevitably complicates their dynamic.

While Orlok is, by his own admission, incapable of a human love, he is overwhelmingly and exclusively obsessed with Ellen. Unlike Dracula, who even in death keeps the company of his women and his people, Orlok exists in utter solitude. Prior to his death, he was also heavily avoided due to his being in "covenant with the devil." The 2024 film especially makes it clear that Ellen's call, which woke him from his slumber, is exceptional; their connection is intensely personal, and it is as close to love as he can ever feel.

This aspect of the vampire's characterization fundamentally alters the context of his behaviour throughout the film. While Dracula moved to England in search of new hunting grounds and little else, Orlok goes to Germany specifically to find Ellen. By marrying Thomas Hutter, she broke the covenant she made with Orlok in her youth; thus, knowing that his claim has been infringed upon, the Count makes contact with Hutter's real estate law firm, summons him to the Carpathians, crosses the sea, and arrives to Wisborg as a physical manifestation of every dark urge and ability she has been attempting to repress. He torments her husband, tricks him into signing a marriage annulment, plagues the city, and murders the Hardings - all of it for her. She is his unique and all-consuming motivation. Again and again, he insists upon their covenant, reminding her that she has never truly belonged to the human world, and he is not incorrect in his assessment. Ellen's surrounding society infantilizes and binds her, often literally. She has nothing to lose by leaving it, except for her own sense of morality; and that is why Orlok, who represents her own abnormality, remains a beautiful, nightmarish temptation.

The other characters diverge from Stoker's just as much.

Thomas Hutter has little in common with Jonathan Harker beyond his choice in career and his time at a vampire's castle. Despite his careful attachment to his wife, he does not actually take her opinions into consideration when he plans their life - he prioritizes his social and financial advancements, which are of no interest to her, and which he sees as his duties to her and to himself; and, when she exhibits any of her unusual or melancholic traits, he does his best to try and move past them as quickly as possible. He does not experience the same attraction to the horror that she does; he cannot bring himself to understand it; and both in 1922 and in 2024, he is also largely oblivious to her eccentricities, gifting her flowers despite the fact that she does not like to see them picked and dying in a vase. That is a far cry from Jonathan - who knows his wife's love of train schedules, who is practicing shorthand with her, and who is willing to join her in cursed, godforsaken undeath when faced with the possibility of her turning. Ultimately, Thomas exists too firmly within the same societal constraints that Ellen abhors, and their relationship has none of the foundation that is unshakably shared by Jonathan and Mina.

At the same time, while the Anna is a parallel to Lucy, and her husband is a corresponding Arthur, the Hardings (once again) have no particular commonality with them. Their characterization remains undeveloped in the original 1922 film - and while Eggers does grant them some definition, it is still in no way similar to Stoker's.

Stoker's Lucy is a charming, cheerful, flirty, and a little coquettish young girl; she exists on the cusp of womanhood and marriage, and her pre-vampire arc revolves around her choice between three almost-equally delightful suitors. She adores and idolizes Mina, she is childishly excited about her future; and in these things, she is very different from Anna, who is already married, a mother of two with one on the way - and who does care for Ellen, but in a motherly, rather than girlish, fashion.

Her husband, too, is quite different from Arthur Holmwood.

In 2024, Friedrich Harding is - above all else - the film's personification of the trap that is patriarchy. He is the epitome of what a man is expected to be: a successful business owner with a pretty blonde wife and 2.5 kids (I thought Anna's pregnancy was very much on the nose. Quite literally, 2.5 kids!). He is generous, he cares for his family, and he is firmly Rational. On the surface, Harding appears to be an ideal made flesh; and as the film progresses, it becomes evident that this ideal is designed to crumble.

Much of Harding's rationality is heavily hypocritical. While he claims to be making all his decisions based on pure logic, Ellen's - an outsider's - perspective exposes the truth behind his motivations. He ignores her warnings because he does not like her and considers her impudent; he kicks his own sick best friend out of his house with only his similarly sick wife to care for him, because he is annoyed and unsettled by their references to the supernatural; he refuses to listen to Von Franz and ignores the danger his family is in, because he is frightened of losing them to something he cannot comprehend, rather than a mundane, potentially treatable illness. All of these decisions are emotional, rooted in his misogyny and closed-mindedness - and so, Harding loses his daughters, his wife, his unborn son, as well as the unflappable, rational facade he had been so carefully maintaining. He ends the film a wreckage of himself, having committed necrophilia with the corpse of his wife because he was emotionally, irrationally unable to let go of her even in death; he dies of the plague that came to Wisborg through his own ship yard, holding her in his arms. Even under the guise of benevolence, his patriarchal worldview undermines and fails him entirely. It is a terrible thrill to watch him fall apart, and the ruin that is left in his place is one of the most obvious illustrations of the story's principal themes.

The other characterizations follow a similar sort of pattern. Sievers, unlike Seward, has no romantic rivalry with Harding; and beyond a professional connection, they are not really friends. Von Franz is far less knowledgeable about vampires than Van Helsing - for the majority of the film, he is stumbling in the dark with the rest of the cast, only finding a way of destroying Orlok in Herr Knock's codex. Knock, too, is far less noble than Renfield - even though he is just as insane as his counterpart, he sees Ellen as an object to be traded for money and power, rather than a kind soul that he would die to protect.

(Quincey Morris, unfortunately, does not exist in Nosferatu. Murnau hadn't found a place for a cowboy in his production; consequently, Eggers could not, either.)

The point is, really, that while Dracula and Nosferatu share a common premise, a comparison between them cannot be made without acknowledging the glaring differences between their characters. For instance, even though Orlok's relationship with Ellen is toxic in the usual vampiric way - part sex, part horror, part possession, part liberation - Thomas is by no means a perfect partner for her, either, because he is not Jonathan Harker, and Ellen is not Mina. Similarly, Von Franz, Sievers, and Harding are not a brave vampire hunting team - they are all blind, each in their own specific way (Von Franz, lacking straightforward knowledge; Sievers, trusting Von Franz without question; Harding, unable to think outside of societal rules). Expecting them to react to their situation the same way as the cast of Dracula is an exercise in futility.

As such, if you do get the chance to see the film again, or if it merely plays in the darkness of your skull when you close your eyes - instead of fixating on the few surface-level similarities between two different vampires and the people they haunt, allow the story of Nosferatu to seduce you on its own terms. Whether it is 1922 or 2024, we, as viewers, deserve its living blood - rather than the shadow of its predecessor.

[newtonsheffield]

Love the Newton bed and portrait, but the look on her face when she says the furniture (Kate’s desk) has to stand up to the job of intimate scenes! Kate is going to have to spend so much time picking up papers and re-organzining them 😂

This is Kate’s study and dressing room apparently. But you know Anthony prefers to call it the undressing room. He’s got that cheeky little smile on his face when he says it and Kate rolls her eyes.

“My maid’s going to start talking if I have to keep calling for her to redress in the middle of the day.”

“I believe when you’re newlyweds people give you a bit of leeway.”

Kate sighed, running her fingers through his hair as he stood behind her, his lips on her neck. “We’re not that newly wed. It’s been nearly a year.”

“Ah so you want me to go then?”

Her fingers tightened in his hair, “No. obviously not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 70 (The Youngest Nesbitt Gets Married!)

It was a sunny, if chilly, autumn day in Henford-on-Bagley when Heather's youngest sister, Hazel, married Nicola Moody-McMillan, her high school sweetheart.

Incidentially, they married on Prank Day, which meant plenty of off-vibe mischief all afternoon.

Nicola's parents, Eddie and Kim, hosted the wedding at their home in the Bramblewood - a simple ceremony under a woodsy wedding arch placed beneath a tall oak in their backyard. Not far away laid the graves of Nicola's grandfathers, Ian and Derek, who had died a few years earlier in a riverboat cruise disaster.

It was a beautiful ceremony, but a cloud of dust kicked up as soon as the guests started blowing bubbles to celebrate the newlyweds! Nicola's mother, Kim, had taken the spirit of Prank Day to heart and started fights with multiple guests! "Mom!" Nicola cried. "This is a wedding, not a bar fight!" She was so embarrassed.

But her mother could not be controlled! (I was actually controlling her - it's OG Kim Goldbloom - but ignoring her to focus on the brides, and she picked three fights before I smartened up!) She started a few scuffles with unsuspecting guests, laughing uncontrollably each time she successfully executed her "pranks."

But the worst was when she jumped Hazel's dad, Neal. The successful civic designer and eco-innovator was having none of Kim's pranks, even if she was hosting their daughters' special day. He slapped her right back and man, these vibes are not it!

"Kim, my love, have some water." Finally, Eddie convinced his wife to cool off, and the guests changed into warmer attire before moving on to the food. Toddler cousins Ash and Michael, River and Cassandra's son, babbled away with each other in the backyard.

"So girls, will you both be starting work soon or enjoying married life for a while?" asked Daisy as she reached for a plate.

"We're going to enjoy being newlyweds for a few weeks, but Nicola will be a teacher's assistant at Henford Elementary when school starts up, and my internship with Mayor Varner starts soon."

"Are you going to be the mayor of Henford someday?" Uncle Karl considered the idea with pride on his face, but Hazel shook her head.

"My political goals are a bit more international," she admitted. "But for now I'm happy to stay home in Henford to get more experience."

"And they need teachers everywhere!" said Nicola with a loving smile to her new wife.

The brides saved money by asking Heather to take their wedding photos. She wasn't particularly good at photography and didn't even enjoy it, but Heather would do anything for her siblings - especially Hazel. She'd never say no to her 'friendship bracelet bestie,' and she snapped a beautiful portrait of the girls before sunset. They posed under a tree in the rock garden Hazel's mother, Daisy, had helped Nicola's grandfathers design years earlier.

"Did you want to switch sides?" asked Nicola, noting the burns on Hazel's right arm. She'd had them ever since she'd survived the Nesbitts' freak toilet fire as a child, but they'd never made confident Hazel self-conscious.

"They don't define me. If I wanted to hide them I'd have worn a long-sleeved dress."

When Heather and Conrad returned to Brindleton at the end of the night, he pulled her in for a kiss as they were enthusiastically greeted by Mayor Whiskers and Queen Cupcake. "Do you ever think about marriage?" he asked.

"I don't know. I know I love you and I'm committed to you. What difference does a piece of paper make?"

Conrad kissed her cheek. "I love you, too. I don't need a piece of paper to tell me we're a team."

They were happy. To Heather and Conrad, that's all that really mattered. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I made all the Henford NPCs playable as soon as the game started, then made their replacements playable if and when there was story for it (like Heather's friend Dylan, who was the replacement NPC grocer until I aged her up to YA and she married Gavin Richards). Kim became the adopted daughter of Ian and Derek. Nicola and her brother both ended up looking a lot like their townie dad and not much like Kim at all, though. Ah well!

NOTE 2: Is Hazel wearing the same wedding dress as Holly in a slightly different poorly-rendering shade of white? Yes and I noticed it when writing this post. 🙃

NOTE 3: I'm not going for torture with the 'we don't need a piece of paper' thing, but the Gen 2 rules say Heather isn't supposed to get married! I already broke the rule that Gen 2 was supposed to hate the idea of relationships and only ever fail at them in addition to never marrying, but I don't know if I should go all in on breaking every rule. I'm hoping with their soulmate status it won't lead to anyone up and marrying someone else if I rotate for a day or two.

[josphitia]

Portrait of a Mimic

“I don't know about this…” said a young looking woman with long brown hair tied into a ponytail. She wore light wood-colored glasses, a pink shirt emblazoned with a stylish skull, and pink-striped loose fitting bottoms.

“Oh balderdash! If you're going to be working in my office then I need a proper photo of you for your ID!” shouted a balding, bespectacled man wearing simple khakis and a dark blue sweater. While his voice was raised, it was not in a malicious way. Instead his voice sounded like a man accustomed to being talked over, and thus he developed this affectation to ensure his words were heard.

“Can't you just use your phone, like EVERYONE else, Erian? I don't see why you've dragged me to a shopping mall…” she spoke. Her voice was the opposite of the man's. His was meant to be heard above a crowd, while hers sounded as if it wanted to be hidden by one.

“I could, had I no pride. Portraits are something of a hobby of mine, and like any hobbyist I have my tastes and preferences. A portrait is a special thing. It used to be said the camera stole a piece of your soul. I actually find that notion comforting. A piece of you, in that moment, forever preserved. You may grow and change, your visage changing periodically in front of a mirror, but you will always be able to look at your portrait. The camera sees the whole you.”

She didn't know what to say… This man she had a complicated (to put it lightly) relationship with seemed to always hold new surprises for her. At times he seemed as superficial and deep as a rain puddle and at other times his authenticity was inspiring. However one thought quickly flashed before her mind as she looked down:

“Wait wait why didn't you tell me I was having my photo taken before we got here?? I could have focused on making myself more presentable! I'm just in a weekend look, I don't want to look like a schlub!”

“Nonsense, that's the point! Had I told you, you might've tried to hide the real you! No this is wonderful, you look perfect, if I may say so. When our patients walk into the lobby, I want them to see a portrait of YOU, not who you THINK people would want to see.”

“Wait, lobby!? You're going to be hanging this up??”

“Ah yes that's another reason for this excursion. Have you ever tried printing and framing a cell phone picture? No no, better to have a photo taken with genuine film! None of this digital nonsense. Anyway we're here!”

To their left was a small door, squeezed between a kitchenware store and a shop selling sports apparel. She would have completely missed it had it not been pointed directly out to her. A bell jingled as her cohort opened the door and entered.

“TEDDY!” shouted a man on a simple barstool. He was a tall man, at least a foot taller than Erian, wearing jeans and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was balding on the top of his head, but still sported long hair along the sides and the back that he tied tight into a ponytail. He had a gentle face and a smile that never quite seemed to dissipate. He got up to shake the man who accompanied her.

“Alphonse, it's so good to see you!” said Erian as the two men started hitting it off with the kind of small talk that seems to always accompany old friends. It was as if she was completely forgotten about, which did allow her the convenience of getting to take in the photos along his shop’s walls. Families with fake smiles, graduates beaming with pride, excited newlyweds, all the things standard you would expect to see in a photographer's business. She even saw a picture or two of Erian’s! Her eyes then drifted to a corner that actually held some appeal to her:

Photos of people along a similar journey as hers, along with those she considered friends! There was a red, unenthused dragon whose body barely fit into the frame. A white tigress with a warm smile and tired, yet wise eyes. A sapphire scaled Lamia with a smile so innocent it seemed almost childlike. An amber colored slime she once had lunch with! As she leaned in for the closest view she could take, suddenly she heard the conversation shifting to her as its focus.

“Ah, and is this young lady one of them? Someone you're helping Teddy?”

“She'll soon be my employee, actually.”

“Partner, actually” she said in a cheeky yet firm way.

“Right, yes. Apologies. She's going to be working with me in my office! Alphonse, this is Mayday. Mayday, this is Alphonse.”

The photographer looked her up and down and spoke in a warm tone, devoid of romance but brimming with affection: “My, and aren't you just a sweetheart?”

Try as she might not to, she felt her entire face burning at that comment.

“Just the standard job, then, Teddy?” he said, turning to Erian. “Yes yes, and I'll be paying for it all, tip included.” At that, your future coworker started walking out of the store.

“Well, if you're ready?” he said, gesturing her towards the back. She followed briskly, anxiety starting to build inside her at having been left alone with this man she only just met. Professional or not, meeting new people always put her on edge, not even speaking of the fears currently swelling up inside her. She had always hated having her picture taken. She never thought she looked like “herself” in photos, but maybe now would be different? After all, nowadays she felt more like herself than she ever had.

“Just sit right here, May” the man said as he pulled a curtain closed behind her.

“It's Mayday, actually, please.”

“Alright sweetheart. Mayday it is!”

She couldn't help but smile and feel a bit warm inside at the ‘sweetheart’ nickname. Whether it was something he chose specifically for her or simply a nickname for all the feminine people he worked with, she couldn't tell. But it was still a nickname she made a mental note of.

“Now then, you're gonna be working with Teddy? You look pretty normal, are you also one of them ‘therians?’” As he spoke, he clicked a small remote as a floodlight suddenly turned on to her right side. It startled her so much a third eyeball erupted out of the side of her head to give her an additional look at the could-be hazard.

“Ah. I guess that answers my question.”

“Sorry, sorry” she said quietly. She had been gaining confidence in who she was. Pride in being a mimic. But being isolated and partaking in an activity she hated, it brought back old habits. It didn't matter how nice this man seemed… She was uncomfortable, and that always affected how well she could hold her form.

“It's absolutely no worry to me, sweetheart. Why, I've been taking many photos for these new animal people like yourself a lot lately! Guess it's not too surprising, people wanting to immortalize their new forms. Especially around this time of year! Why, I had a dragon in here a month ago and I'm still patching the ceiling where her horns busted through! Now, if I may ask, what kinda animal are you? I've never seen someone just spout an eye like that before.”

“Ah.. I'm a mimic…” While she was certain she was still holding onto her humanoid form, it felt as if the entire world was growing large around her. She didn't like being the focus of conversation.

“Mimic? I don't think I've ever seen one of them before, even at the zoo. Well, it's wonderful meeting someone of your kind!” His nonchalant acceptance was comforting, if surprising. Still, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Anything that helped make this ordeal go by any faster and smoother.

“Now, gimme a smile?”

She began to force herself to smile when-

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

A bright light illuminated the room and frightened the poor mimic, she instinctively closed her eyes. She closed both… all three… all six… wait

At that moment she began to open her eyes and took in a 360 degree view of the room around her. She had sprouted eyes about every inch of her body… Tears started to well up in a few of them, she must've looked ridiculous, this man would soon start screaming and kick her out and and and

“Oh, oh my. Okay. I'm sorry sweetheart I guess I should've warned you.”

All her eyes turned towards the man, still illuminating the room like a gentle sunbeam with that soft smile of his. “Now now, please don't cry! You're fine! I don't think any decent photographer has gotten the right picture on the first try! It's just you and me here and I'm not going anywhere. Let me know when you're ready for the next one.”

After a minute or two of composing herself, one by one her eyes receding into herself, she nodded. An affirmation that she was ready.

“Alright, now try to keep your eyes open this time. And…”

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

Again a flash from the camera and try as she might, it still startled her. She didn't sprout eyes this time, however she did sprout large purple spikes in every direction.

“I think someone might be on edge” he said with a laughing tone. “I'm in no rush Mayday. Take as much time to relax yourself.”

She did as he instructed. She imagined a soft running river, gently streaming over rocks and foliage.

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

“Ah… perhaps a bit too relaxed, then…”

She had relaxed herself into a literal purple puddle, drooping over the wooden stool. Immediately she collected herself and assumed her humanoid form.

“Alright, try focusing on me then as I take the picture?”

She nodded and started taking in every aspect of the man. His hair, his choice of clothing, his facial wrinkles, the number of moles on his left arm, his-

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

“Well, I think you were focusing too much on me there. No offense but that's a bit unnerving.”

Sitting opposite of the man was an almost exact replica of him, if doused in a purple hue. “Sorry!” she immediately said, shaking each part of her form until they resembled her natural look.

“No worries sweetheart. I do think we were on the right track there, that was the best photo so far. Instead of me, try thinking of another. Do you have someone special in your life?”

She did. Many people, in fact. She loved, and was loved, by the most wonderful group of creatures she had ever met. People who made her feel warm inside. Animals who always made her feel accepted. Friends who were always looking out for her and protecting her and friends she protected in turn. Companions who listened. Cohorts who made her happy. Family who completed her.

“Perfect. Now, give me a nice smile”

With thoughts and images of her loved ones dancing in her mind, Mayday did as instructed.

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

-----------------------------------------------------

“Oh this is simply perfect” said the balding man in glasses as he marveled at the frame in front of him. He started climbing a ladder, ready to hang it next to a framed photo of himself.

“I look ridiculous… why did he send you that one!? There must've been a better picture! Let me go retake it, please!” Said the feminine mimic, now adorned in more work-appropriate attire.

“Shush!” Said her coworker as he started climbing down. “I said I wanted a picture of YOU not what you think other people would want to see.”

He walked next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “This is the happiest I've ever seen you. You must have been thinking some very pleasant thoughts. This is the perfect face to greet our patients as they walk in.”

She started looking at the wall with a small sense of pride now. “Thank you, doctor. And yes. I was thinking of some very pleasant thoughts.”

Hanging in front of the two, beside the man's own, somewhat frumpy faced photo, was her. Her eyes were closed in happiness, she held a relaxed demeanor that yet brimmed with confidence. She held a wide smile that transcended the edges of her own face, with teeth that seemed to number in the hundreds. While no actual illumination glowed from her portrait, she brightened up the entire lobby. It was the most comforting smile that anyone who entered that office had ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! This was a gift for my dear friend @scrubbinn for the holidays! GO READ THEIR OWN STORIES THEY'RE SO GOOD

There are also cameos of @ayviedoesthings , @tigergirltail , @ariathelamia , and @sandyca5tle

[whitmoreroyals]

A ROYAL LIFE

SEASON 2

Transcript under the cut

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FLUX! MAGAZINE

ROYAL WEDDING SOUVENIR SPECIAL 02.12.65

Bridgette & Diego

Lady Bridgette ties the knot with Diego Olson in Brusberg, Whitmore.

The ceremony was held in St. Helen’s Cathedral, where friends and family gathered to celebrate the joyous occasion. Lady Bridgette looked stunning in her elegant silky gown, while Diego cut a dashing figure in his tailored suit. The air was filled with laughter and the sweet scent of blooming roses as the couple exchanged heartfelt vows under a floral archway.

Guests were treated to a lavish reception, complete with a gourmet banquet and live music. The newlyweds shared their first dance as husband and wife under a canopy of twinkling fairy lights, their love for each other evident in every step. Toasts were made, and stories of the couple’s journey together were shared, bringing smiles and tears of joy to all in attendance.

The royal couple poses for portraits at Nortero Estate, possibly their future official residence. The estate's grandeur and gardens complement their regal presence.

BRUSBERG,WHITMORE

The royal family journeyed to Brusberg, Whitmore, for the union of Lady Bridgette and Mr. Diego Olson. Despite the couple's preference for a private event, numerous Brusberg locals eagerly gathered and camped out to observe the intimate vow exchange. The selected venue carries a rich history and significance, christened by Whitmore's first Queen, Queen Helen, consort to King Thomas I. This marked the cathedral's first wedding ceremony in generations, making the Brusberg community feel fortunate to witness another royal family member's nuptials. Royal photographers made sure to snap pictures of royal family members upon their arrival. They also caught the groom and his best man, the Crown Prince, the mother of the bride, and Their Majesties the King and Queen, along with the Crown Princess, as they arrived.

Large crowds assembled at the cathedral to catch a glimpse of the royal family and the newlywed couple.

Lady Bridgette donned a stunning silk gown and complemented it with the Lemniscate Tiara, selected for its symbolic representation of infinity or eternity.

The Lemniscate tiara holds immense historical importance. King Alfonso presented it to Queen Maria on their 25th anniversary, symbolizing their everlasting love and dedication to the monarchy.

This intricate tiara, featuring delicate filigree work and precious gemstones, has graced numerous royal events and ceremonies, further solidifying its iconic status. Passed down through generations, the Lemniscate tiara transcends being just a piece of jewelry; it embodies enduring love and commitment within the royal family. Lady Bridgette cherishes the stories passed down by her grandmother, recalling grand balls and intimate moments where the tiara played a significant role. As she wears the tiara for her own special occasion, Lady Bridgette feels a profound connection to her lineage, recognizing that she continues a legacy that began with a heartfelt gift from a king to his beloved queen.

[aheathen-conceivably]

The wedding portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Antoine Duplanchier, taken immediately after their arrival in New Mexico in January, 1930 alongside Josephine Duplanchier, Giorgio Mistretta, and the newlyweds' daughter Violette Darlington.

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[theroyalsims]

ROYALS RELEASE WINTERFEST PHOTO

Happy Winterfest!

The Royal Family surprised their loyal subjects to a brand new family portrait to celebrate the holidays!

The whole family stunned, especially the ladies, who wore shades of blue. Although there was no tiara sighting for this year's portrait, there was still no shortage of diamonds, thanks to Anya's diamond fringe earrings, Ingrid's massive diamond and pearl brooch, and the queen's dazzling necklace.

Front and centre next to The Queen and Prince Jacques are the newlyweds, who recently celebrated their 6-month wedding milestone! How time flies!

(Above: Prince Gus and Crown Princess Anya looked beautiful together in matching blue outfits. The couple recently marked their half-year anniversary as husband and wife.)

Glaringly absent, however, are the Harvelles. Although it might not be as dramatic as people make it out to be. An official statement from the Palace reveals that the Earl and Countess, along with their tiny tot, Lady Ella, are currently on a ski vacation overseas, and simply missed the picture-taking appointment:

"Their Highnesses are abroad on a private skiing holiday, and were unable to make it to the photo session."

We were hoping to see Lady Ella's official portrait debut! Maybe for New Year's, the Family will share another snap?

[pearlywritings]

To wear white once more

synopsis: wedding is one of the most memorable and happiest days in one’s life. What are the chances of you dressing in white again to capture this moment on canvas? Diluc makes it possible.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: established relationship, fluff, newlyweds, Adelinde is a mother figure we all need

word count: 1.7k+ words

a/n: a portrait after your wedding was suggested by a lovely @bobaboob​ who, by the way, said that she had this fic in mind while drawing this piece of art

Looking in the mirror makes all the memories of nervousness and excitement wash over Diluc again, sending a shiver down his spine. Everything is as just as it was a month ago - his white suit hugs his body in all the right places, the long-tailed jacket complimenting his height, the golden lines on its and vest's lapels along with golden buttons forming a perfect wedding attire. The only standing out feature is a ruby brooch pinned to his cravat, matching his flaming locks, reflecting light just like his crimson eyes, momentarily clouded by recalling the events that happened on one of the happiest days in his life.

His heart skips a beat when he remembers a mesmerizing venue organized in the gardens of the Winery, guests - mainly from your side - on the benches, Kaeya and Adelinde by his side… Come to think of it, his adoptive brother was present in this very room while Diluc was getting ready, lightly joking and unknowingly helping Diluc with his nerves. Yeah, the day was a rollercoaster of emotions. Especially after you appeared.

The man adjusts his sleeves, making sure he looks perfect - it's only logical he'll match you in that. Brushing a lock of hair from the left side of his face, he hears a soft knock on his door, immediately knowing who it is.

"Come in, Adelinde."

The older woman enters the room with the most adoring smile on her face, eyes crinkling in joy, just like on his wedding day, which brings even more blissful memories back. She walks directly to him, reaching out to help with hair a little - she knows him too well, and Diluc is grateful for that.

"I've just met Master François Clouet and offered him brunch. He was very eager about it, given his long journey, so you might have another 20 or so minutes."

Diluc hums, closing his eyes and letting the maid work her magic.

"Good. And my wife?"

His wife… it rolls off his tongue so naturally and the golden ring around his finger becomes so palpable.

"Checked on the girls and they said she was almost ready. I think you can go and see her already.”

She can clearly see he wants to - it’s in the smallest details honestly. The way his lips are twitching in a hardly contained lovesick smile, the trembling of his for once bare fingers, the darting of his eyes to the door behind her and it’s quite obvious from how he forces his body to stay still in place until she is finished. If she wasn’t helping him with his hair, Adelinde is sure - he’d be running out of the door the moment the words left her mouth.

Cute. The glimpses of a young boy she used to know and care about as a mother come through, and the woman can’t thank you enough for it, for the happiness you brought in this lonesome mansion and love you rekindled in the hurt man’s heart.

“All done, Master Diluc,” when he shifts his eyes, not spotting his bangs in sight, he doesn’t even have to look in the mirror to know Adelinde recreated his look perfectly.

“Thank you, Adelinde,” and he means it, not stopping his body from moving, just like it did a month ago, enveloping the woman in his embrace, squeezing just a little. The blond-haired maid laughs, standing on her tiptoes and hugging him back.

“It’s always a pleasure to me. I dreamt of helping you with the wedding one day, and I must admit, doing some of it the second time is just as thrilling.”

Diluc cannot agree more.

When the door of your shared bedroom is right in front of him, the owner of the Dawn Winery feels his heart thumping in his chest, cravat feeling a bit suffocating and hand twitching. He hears excited giggles of the maids on the other side and your soft voice speaking to them, so full of glee and eagerness, that he doesn’t notice his fingers curling in a fist and knocking against the wooden surface. Instantly the sounds of laughter and conversation disappear, but the redhead makes out quick steps hurrying to the door.

The maid opening it gasps and turns around, immediately ushering others outside. The man moves to let five girls out of the room, all bowing and greeting him, to which he answers with a nod, entering the moment the last one leaves, closing the door behind him.

“My love, you are here,” your sweet words pull crimson eyes to your figure and his breath hitches. Basked in the sunlight pouring through the big window, your body is swarmed in pure whiteness. The dress, tailored together with his suit, makes you the loveliest bride a man could wish for. Long flowing skirt consists of many layers, streaming and moving with the slightest of your turns, the corseted waist pushes your chest up a little bit, though leaving half of your back bare… Oh how many kisses he placed there when the night was over and his fingers were working on the strings-

He clears his throat, coughing in his fist and fighting back the rising flush off his cheeks. Your smile turns teasing, lips wearing a pretty shade of lipstick, and Diluc notes in disappointment that he won’t be able to kiss you before the work on the painting for today is over. It doesn’t stop him from approaching you though, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to place a gentle peck on your cheek.

“Aren’t you a romantic one, my dear husband?” He shudders at the new term that was applied to him the moment the rings were slipped on your fingers and you two were proclaimed wedded.

“Can’t help it when my wife is this gorgeous,” it’s your turn to become bashful, sliding your palms up his back in an embrace, being careful not to crumple the jacket.

“Honestly, I didn't think I'd get to wear this dress again, not to mention so soon.”

“Sorry for keeping it from you, my flame.”

Despite already exchanging wedding presents, Diluc kept one more surprise from you. He knew you adored his father’s tradition of keeping paintings of not only nature, but important events of the family life, and your newlywed husband fully shared the sentiment. Undoubtedly, you two hired a photographer from Fontaine to capture the day marking your journey as spouses, and now have plenty of photos, but Diluc knew that it would bring you both absolute joy to have a portrait painted to hang it in the hall for every guest to know what a happy couple lives in this mansion.

Today is exactly the day for it.

“It’s alright,” your lashes flutter as he leans close again to plant another kiss - on your forehead this time. “Had you told me earlier, I would’ve been too excited to properly enjoy our honeymoon. So, good timing.”

Diluc chuckles at that. Then, on a whim he gently grabs your waist and starts swaying slowly, twirling your bodies in a tender dance, still flash to each other and foreheads pressed together, gazing into each other’s eyes. Your palms shift to his shoulders, feet moving back, right, forward, left, creating small waltz squares under the guidance of your husband who, as it seems, doesn’t want to let you go.

You dance like this for just ten minutes, but for Diluc it’s an eternity spent in your arms. He almost forgets you have plans and a man waiting for you two downstairs, until you stop, huffing a little when he bumps into you driven by inertia.

“Shouldn’t we go?” You don't know why you are whispering, but the moment is so innermost, that even the slightest rise of one’s voice might break it. You see how he releases a small breath of discontent, but doesn’t let it be shown in facial expression - after all, you are right.

“Of course, dear," your heart skips a beat, when he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, right over your wedding band. "Let’s go, Master Clouet must be waiting for us.”

The old man, who happened to know Master Crepus personally, seems to be gruff at first, but turns out to be a sweet person at heart, being extremely patient with both of you and occasionally commenting on how nice it is to see the boy, whom he last saw as a little kid, standing in front of him all grown up and with a wife by his side.

You are awe-stricken by the speed with which his dry and sinewy hands are moving, putting layer after layer of paint on the canvas, glancing up and down with his strikingly lively and bright eyes. He is nice to have around, and he treats you like human beings and not like statues, which many artists tend to do. He gives you breaks of course, doesn’t scold for moving an inch and doesn’t have a problem with fixing your poses if one of you happens to ruin it. He readily partakes in lunch and dinner and accepts Diluc’s offer to stay in one of the guest’s bedrooms, promising that it’ll take him only three nights.

And just as promised, on the morning of the fourth day, you watch the big painting getting hung in the hall as Diluc is handing Master Clouet a heavy pouch of mora, shaking his hand and saying something that makes an old man heartily laugh and pat the redhead’s shoulder. He then nods in approval, adding a couple more words of farewell, before following Adelinde to the exit. Diluc returns to your side.

“It’s brilliant,” your voice is shaking a little, happy tears brimming your eyes. Your body leans back on your husband’s chest, feeling him wrap his arms around your middle and putting his chin on your shoulder. “I love it so, so much, ‘luc. Just… I didn’t know a brush could recreate something so accurately! It’s unbelievable. Just look at our faces! It’s so detailed, I can practically see hearts in my eyes! Yours too, by the way,” the man snorts, pressing a kiss to the side of your jaw, absolutely enjoying your amazement and teasing. He fully shares your feelings about the painting and almost opens his mouth to tell that he made a deal to invite your recent guest to make more paintings of you - some of the walls are pretty empty, if you ask him. However, he decides against it - after all what is life without pleasant surprises?

[nulfaga]

From Frédéric Poulsen, "Le buste du bronze de Cato trouvé à Volubilis", in the journal of the Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, 1947:

"The first thing which surprises [the viewer] about this admirably preserved bust is how clearly it has retained a certain rustic trace. This is a true country man, like to the wealthy farmers of the agricultural nations of our day. Cato, however, belonged to the stifling circle of the high Roman nobility (which fact is demonstrated above all by the marriages of his sisters and daughter). Here, he appears as the descendant of Cato Priscus, that prototype of the great Roman country man—and the urban life of multiple generations of that family, three of whose representatives held the consulship, has not erased this spirit.

The second great impression [one has] of this visage is the seriousness of its features, in perfect accord with the literary tradition: "It was difficult," Plutarch says (Plut. Cat. Min. 1-2), "to move Cato to laughter, and rare that a smile should appear on his face". He was harsh, tenacious, and, when ill, demonstrated an admirable forbearance.

Adding to the serious expression of those features is the movement of the head: it is turned toward the left shoulder and, at the same time, gently, peacefully inclined; and the movement which tenses the neck muscles, combined with the lines of the mouth, creates an impression of severity, even of unavailability. It is not impossible that the absence of colored stones, which would have once indicated the iris and pupils, contributes to the hardness of the gaze.

At the time of his death, Cato was forty-eight years old, but this portrait speaks of a man who lived a hard life and was aged prematurely by it. It is true that [one contemporary scholar] finds the Cato of this bust younger than the age of his death—an impression probably due to his observation of the bust's profile, since from that angle the expression is both younger and more peaceful, as if disclosing traces of the features of a young man; it is only by virtue of the large nose, particularly its curve, that a powerful masculine energy is revealed and even emphasized.

But, seen from the front, the face is haggard, the forehead is crossed by deep wrinkles that run parallel to the thick eyebrows, the creases that run down from the lower eyelids, the large and profound furrows of the cheeks, and the great lines between the mouth and chin, all contribute to give the face an expression of pain and age. In my opinion he could well have been a sexagenarian, this great country man with his proud, tranquil expression.

[...]

Even if the portrait from Volubilis dates from as late as ±150 years after Cato's death [the author dates the bust about the time of Domitian or Trajan, ed.], it goes without saying that an older and more contemporary portrait has been copied. This is confirmed when one observes the profile of the bust once more: one sees the tufts of hair in the nape of the neck shaped like long, curved leaves, and stylized in a bladelike form, a mode of stylization characteristic of precisely the period in which Cato lived, ±50 BCE.

[...]

Naturally we might suppose that a certain alteration of the features must have taken place in this transmission from copyist to copyist. [...] Where an artist, from the time of Nero for example, has copied a republican portrait meant for the atrium of a young, newlywed nobleman [an ancestral imago], the result is inevitably a mixture of styles, a circumstance which makes it still more difficult to date many Roman portraits.

Certain points of resemblance, then, may have been diminished in the face of the Volubilis Cato—on the other hand, the artistic effect could have been strengthened by an emphasis on the essential lines and forms of the visage. Happily, the artist appears to have stuck to the veracity of the original, without adding any suggestions of that saintliness or divine inspiration which the writers of the imperial era attribute to Cato, from Seneca to Plutarch."

[blueshistorysims]

August 11th, 1925

On the morning of August 11th, a sunny Tuesday, Byron and Eleora married in a Reform Jewish ceremony in a London synagogue attended by the Walsh and Balass families along with close friends. 

The afternoon and dinner hosted a large reception for the newlyweds at Walshstone Park, the wedding party traveling by train to meet the incoming guests. Eleora’s dress and veil were designed, handstitched, and embroidered by Giselle, and she wore diamond jewels that belonged to former duchesses of the past while Byron wore the tuxedo his grandfather Edwin wore when he married his grandmother Rose.

As the best man, Montgomery gave a speech describing how he met Eleora and Byron, the artist flapper and his fiancée’s academic prodigy brother, and how Byron forced him to introduce him to Eleora at a Halloween party, dressed as Louis XIV and Dionysus respectively. He quoted Marx toward the end, mostly just to rifle the majority upper-class guests, which Byron found extremely amusing. As the maid of honor, Samira spent her speech telling an embarrassing childhood story of her and Eleora which had the whole party roaring with laughter. 

And for all her naysay of the wedding, Rebecca was suddenly happily chatting to her son’s new in-laws. Perhaps the thought of all the money the Balasses had was very appealing. Byron loved his mother, but he also thought she was a massive hypocrite.

And as the families stood for wedding portraits, all Byron could think about was how much he wanted his father, Alexander, and Edeline to be there.

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[bethanydelleman]

My latest blog post on Always Austen:

So much pressure to be the person to post on Valentine's Day on a JAFF site!

[smokefalls]

the truth is, i come from immigrants who came from immigrants who came from stolen people who learned to survive on land they did not steal nor did they inherit.

Melania Luisa Marte, "A Newlywed American Portrait: My Mother & Father Handcuffed at Customs" from Plantains and Our Becoming