#painted all of boxy on one layer

[dazzlingqwq]

boxten au! woah

alt below cut!

[blueskittlesart]

Hello! Do you have any theories/thoughts about the mystery lady in the totk trailer? I am so so normal about her (and your painting of her made me EVEN MORE normal) and I keep looking up things about her but she doesn’t have a tag so I have to go into the HYLIA tag even though I really don’t think she is Hylia. Also I’ve been reading your loz doc and your takes are totally not occupying my brain at the moment. Sorry, all of that to say that if you have thoughts about the mystery lady I would love to hear them

YES. i am almost completely convinced that she's NOT hylia and is in fact the earlier zelda mentioned in botw. visually analyzing her character, we see a lot more similarities to other ZELDA designs than depictions of hylia (and yes i know there's deliberate overlap, but they do each have distinguishing features which i will get into.)

here's my breakdown of specific visual elements associated with hylia vs zelda. hylia portrayals will almost always have a double-layered dress with that specific overskirt drape, long, robelike flowy sleeves, and a deep U neckline. zeldas (when in formal dress) will almost always have that boxy neckline, a circlet-like crown with a gemstone inlaid in the middle, a belt with a large circular buckle/brooch in the middle, and a detached hanging drape over the middle of their skirt. several of the zeldas also have noticeable large earrings, and wind waker zelda specifically has little wing-like accessories on either side of her head.

comparing the shot of the mystery girl from the latest trailer, she seems to have a lot more in common visually speaking with our zeldas than our hylias.

from a purely character design standpoint, visually this character evokes "zelda" much more than "hylia." she also bears distinct similarities to the image we are shown of the long-dead princess in the botw cutscene:

notably, the long wavy blonde hair, darker skintone, and sleeveless white dress (again, assuming her dress is the same one we see OUR zelda wearing.)

this is consistent with other clues we've been given about the plot so far--we've seen link clearly wearing an outfit meant to evoke the past hero mentioned in that cutscene, down to the weird stuff going on with his arm:

so if we know that our link is gonna be taking on some of the appearance of the long-dead hero, i don't think it's too much of a logical leap to assume that the girl who's matching outfits with our zelda is the long-dead princess.

as for WHY she's shown and what her narrative significance is, well. i have theories. i think both she and her respective hero are gonna play a pretty big role in totk. more info here & here if you're interested. but tldr that's why i think she's a zelda and not hylia lol

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

THINGS YOUR MUSE WILL NOTICE ABOUT MINE. (Repost, don't Reblog, please!)

WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE:

Big, deep brown, almond-shaped eyes with creases at their corners lend to Doe’s broad, beaming smile. Still, something doesn’t sit well in her eyes, like porcelain fruit. Big, beautiful and fawnlike as they are, there’s a level of emptiness and vacancy behind them. Lights are on, but nobody is home. Maybe it’s the lack of focus, wide and shining but unfocused, staring at something far away and unseen to the rest of the world. Perhaps it’s the quiet weariness carried under them, bags partially hidden with makeup and glitter but evident in the lack of light behind her expressions. Either way, it’s unnerving at the best of times.

BIIIIIG expressions. Doe doesn't emote like most people. Oscillating between a neutral facial expression that denotes nothing at all, just a wide-eyed, almost haunted deer in the headlights vacancy that's evocative of porcelain dolls watching from a shelf to full-bodied, all emotion and no-holds-barred expressions of her feelings, like toothy, full-faced expressions of pure energy. Toothy mouth open, cackling grins, feral snarls like something out of an animal, not a human, and full gross sobs. Now, it should be said that Doe does feel sheepish about this. Quickly shying up and returning to her neutral and controlled expression when called on it. Still! unnerving queen!

Very, very emotive with her hands, arms, legs and everything. When she's feeling, she's feeling HEAVILY, and the emotions seem to affect her like a kid's toy tapped onto a generator instead of a double A battery. She's hopping in place, pointing, gesturing, everything.

Constrained body language, though, when left to her own devices, she likes to keep her hands, legs and arms to herself. Refusing to sit with legs spread or arms splayed out, even when utterly comfortable with her surroundings.

FRECKLES!!! Doe is covered in freckles and moles, concentrated most on her cheeks and upper back in a bountiful constellation of markings. She avoids covering with makeup and instead tries to enhance with methods like liners and slightly lighter blemish cover. 

A squint in her left eye (ptosis), one of few remnants of her skull and face improperly being healed through the afterlife process after being crushed in during her death.

Short and petite, no taller than 5'0 when standing straight up and often smaller with the slight slouch in her appearance. Curvy build with a wide if boxy, bust and hips.

Distinct personal fashion sense that blends the line between maximalism, 80s high glam, hair metal and punk/counterculture aesthetics (specifically those associated with lesbian and bisexual communities). Featuring many layers, leather & denim, HEAVY personalization (painting, embroidery, patches), different clashing patterns, too many belts, bright colors, metallic incorporation, accessories and provocative fits.

Dresses in almost exclusively Jewel-Tones (Blues, Purples, Reds, Pinks, Yellows & Turquoise Greens)

BIG HAIR!!!! It's the 80s, so it's a given, but I HAVE to mention that she often has it either curled and styled with varying degrees of mess from day-to-day wear or actively in curlers. She's very rarely seen with her natural texture and style on display.

ALWAYS wearing makeup, usually just lip gloss and lipsticks and eyeshadows. I'm not fond of foundations, though!

Somehow, despite the Raccoon-energy that defines Doe, she maintains a neat and made-up appearance that's earned her the nickname 'princess' by many for the high-maintenance vibes she evokes. Something, something, she looks plastic!

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE:

Understated but not undetectable base of a clean, floral, baby-powder-like aroma reminiscent of fresh wet laundry on the line

Thick and heavy overcoat of an almost intoxicating, floral & chemical-laden musk distinctive of cheap hairspray, mousse and bustling hair salons on a Sunday afternoon

Beneath the perfume of her hair products, Doe has a distinctive, almost nature-evoking blend of sweet amber, gardenia & jasmine, black cherry, nectarines, grapefruit, fallen leaves and wood.

Clothing has a thin aroma of cigarette and skunky smoke musk clinging to it, droned out by the already loud scents of her perfume and body products.

Breath is generally unnotable, though tinged with sweetness and minty freshness from her sugar-loving diet and gum-chewing habit.

WHAT THEY TASTE LIKE:

Sticky, sickly-sweet cherry-flavouring painted across her lips, harkening to those few bittersweet maraschinos swimming at the bottom of a half-drunk cocktail, festive, blood-red heart-shaped suckers and menthol-laced cough drops. It's an unnatural, overpowering, fruity concoction with a hint of a sour kick. Evocative more of her personality than the times.

Often, Doe's kiss comes with a warm, menthol tang on the tongue and in the back of the throat, resulting from a long-held habit of chewing gum to alleviate subconscious jaw clenching.

Depending on the situation, the stale taste of stagnant, metallic blood. The leftover remnants of a recent death or attack against her.

WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE:

High-pitched but silvery and dulcet-toned.

Gregarious but not at all loud, though she will talk at length whenever her body and mind allow her, her volume is quiet and softly spoken, maybe two or three steps above a whisper that often becomes muddled out in the presence of other people, which frustrates her to no end.

Playful, non-fussed lilt to her words, often not seeming to take anything TOO seriously. Part confidence and part pure mischief but all Doe!

Notable slur to her words that worsens, to the point of her speech being difficult to understand when speaking at length and with overwhelming emotion.

Very distinct Western Canadian accent that can be confused for an American accent until she goes to pronounce certain words, such as plague (pl-AG), drama (DRA-ma), lever (LEE-ver), z (zed), etc.

Kind of an evil, wicked witch of the west cackle, though! It's a point of playful mocking, but she will audibly titter with an 'ehehehehe'

WHAT THEY FEEL LIKE:

VERY soft skin that dips and dimples where numerous scars can be felt in her skin,

Mismatched, the constantly changes between the clothing she layers and the level of care Doe pays attention to certain features of herself lends to a confusing sensory experience but one that perfectly suits her

TAGGED BY: myself! Which is to say I stole it, but tomato tomato! Haha TAGGING: @coastercrushed, @neverscored, @mxlevolence (& for Loki!), @markedprey, @who-is-muses, @vcngefulwrath, @slateir & @horrifichaunts

[byanyan]

"Here. I know punks care more about style but it's too cold for the leather jacket." I love you. It's an old dusty canvas, heavy, waterproof, stitched with an inner fleece layer and decorated with outdated military camo. It's masculine, maybe more than they prefer, but it's nothing a few bedazzled belts and whatever buttons they can get through can't fix. It is, after all, all about the accessories.

"And this, too." She stuffs a scarf atop their coat folded in their hands. This, on the other hand, was sparkly pink and knit by hand by a friend of hers. I love you.

ㅤjacket thrust into their arms before they can even try to reject it, the scoff that escapes their throat mirrors the distaste which marks their features at the mere glimpse of camo print. they don't even have to unfold it to know that it's not their style and to guess that it's all straight and boxy and more about effectively blocking cold than looking good. ...which is probably smart, with how cold the weather's been and how they've had to make the choice between an impractical leather jacket that fits them and the more ideal hand-me-down winter jacket they've been using for years whose sleeves don't even cover their wrists anymore, but they don't love that fact. god, they hate this time of year.

raising a hand in order to run their fingers along the canvas material, byan's lip twitches yet again at the texture. the look, they can at least work with — some colourful dyes or fabric paint, a few buttons or pins or even some studs if they can get those through the thick material, and a cute belt to adjust the shape will be enough to make it suit their tastes a bit better. the texture, on the other hand, they'll be stuck with. ...but they suppose it is more practical for the winter months than anything else currently in their possession.

mouth opens with intent to expel some snarky, albeit not ungrateful comment, but they're stopped short when something much more their speed is set atop to coat. fingers gravitate toward the scarf, grabbing a handful of the much softer material while they admire the cute, sparkling pink yarn it's been made with. ...well, this makes it a lot harder to complain about the jacket. not impossible, but certainly more difficult.

ㅤㅤ" ...cute. "ㅤthe comment sounds a touch reluctant, like they don't want to admit to liking it but can't help it, their gaze remaining fixed upon the scarf as the weight of the gift finally starts to settle in. the coat is too big to have been hers, they're sure, and something so heavy duty is expensive. maybe it's thrifted, or passed on to her from one of her veteran friends, or something, but still... they can read the concern for their wellbeing in it even while she tries to conceal it so they'll just take the damn thing. and the scarf... lena doesn't knit, they're pretty sure, but she does know what they like. —not that they do anything but flaunt their love of pink and glittery, sparkly things, but it's not even just that, it's the fact that she knows them well enough to mix the practical with something they enjoy, that she knows to be casual and completely blasé when she hands it all to them so they won't refuse. they can see through the whole charade, the same way they're sure she'll see through theirs, but... it still makes it easier to accept how much she cares, and how thoroughly she has them figured out.

ㅤㅤ" coat kinda makes me wanna barf. thought you were trynna hand me a tent at first. "ㅤthank you.ㅤ" —but i can prob'ly make it work. even if my leather jacket is cooler. i like the scarf, though. think it might actually match my beanie — y'know, the one with the cat ears? ...although i'm startin' to think that might be on purpose. "ㅤi love you too.

[kenziejensen]

Part 1: Self-Love

Conceptual Goal:

For this assignment, I decided to try out an artistic trend that was viral on the app Tik Tok. It’s called the Molly Mae inspired canvas, and I’ve been wanting to try this out for a while now, and thought that it would be perfect for this assignment. The idea of this trend is to create a monochromatic canvas with a catchy or fun saying. The words that I chose were, “Happy to be here.” I started off by gathering my materials, which included super glue, a large canvas, boxy letters, paint, baking soda, and sponges. I first glued down my words onto the canvas, ensuring that they were as even and straight as possible.

Aesthetic Goal:

Next, I took pink paint (which is my favorite color and would match perfectly with my room), and mixed in baking soda. The purpose of the baking soda is to add texture onto the canvas. I completed one layer and then let it dry. For the second layer, I did not add as much baking soda, and the color was slightly different than before. At first, I was upset about this because it was not all the same, but then I realized that it added more dimension to the artwork. I chose the words, “Happy to be here,” because as Professor Prince has said, this piece of artwork is supposed to serve as a reminder of where I am currently in life, and for me, that is just happy to be living and being able to embrace what the world has to offer.

Course Inspiration:

My artwork was inspired by this passage from the book The Secret Lives of Color, “Recently, it was revealed that products for women, from clothes to bike helmets to incontinence pads, routinely cost more than products for men and boys that are practically identical. In November 2014 French Secretary of State for women’s rights Pascale Boistard demanded to know “Is pink a luxury color?” When it was discovered a five pack of pink razors was $1.93 and a ten pack of blue razors were $1.85. The phenomenon has come to be known as the “pink tax” (St. Clair, p. 117). This passage stood out to me because I remember learning about the pink tax in high school. I used the color pink in my artwork because it’s my favorite color.

[the-lone-writer94]

We'll Meet Again (Part 4)

Rex Brown x Female Reader

Summary: You and Rex have decided to continue this relationship despite all odds. But the problem is... secrets always have a way of coming out...

Age rating: 18+

Word count: 2,002

Note: A shorter chapter than usual.

My finger rested upon the bridge of my black shades. I groaned, feeling like a fucking asshole for having shades on at night, but anything I could possibly find to conceal my face. 

I had managed to rummage a beat up diner which was about an hour away from town, where I parked outside and awaited Rex's arrival. I peered down at my wristwatch, and pulled a face as he was a couple of minutes late and I grew worried. 

Sneaking around with Rex certainly hadn’t been easy, we lived in such a small town where everyone just knew each other, that it was impossible to step outside without running into someone. Often, we had managed to hang out at the Fotomat kiosk after hours, but that place was about one square foot, we could hardly even extend our legs straight. 

Just then, in the distance I recognized Rex’s car as he pulled into the parking lot, as he halted beside my car. I took off the shades and flung them onto the dashboard, as I removed myself from the car. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair and walked around his car to join me. “I ran into Vinnie when I was filling up the car, and he was going the same direction I was. I ended up having to drive to Plano before I circled back.”

“Oh my god.” 

“It’s cool,” he said, before he planted a kiss on my lips. 

“Well, I doubt anyone will find us in this shithole.” 

Rex’s gaze drifted over the diner, which was in a metallic trailer, with rust forming at the bottom. The concrete on the parking lot was covered in cracks, with broken bottles and old tires scattered around. 

“If they do come here, then they’re psychos.” Rex commented. 

I chuckled. “Come on.” I said, as Rex wrapped his arm around me and we made our way towards the diner. 

The moment we stepped over the threshold, the whiff of cigarette smoke and burnt coffee filled the room. There were about three people scattered in the boxy diner, as Rex and I took a booth seat near the window. 

Briefly, I placed my hands on the table before I realized the stickiness on the red checkered vinyl tablecloth and pulled a face, immediately retreating. Rex took the seat opposite me, but it wasn’t long until bits of debris from the ceiling descended upon him. He flinched, before he got up and sat beside me. 

Just then, a woman in her fifties emerged, she had salt and pepper short hair, and wore a baby blue dress with a name tag just on the left side of her chest which read, Ruth. Lines had formed across the edges of her eyes and just adjacent to her mouth. A faint layer of black eyeliner was painted across her eyelids, but was covered with a pair of gold framed spectacles. 

A cigarette hung just between her lips and she placed two laminated menus before us. 

“You kids just tell me when you’re ready to order.” She announced, before she stalked off. 

“Friendly service.” I commented. 

A twinge of a smile formed on Rex’s mouth before we inspected the menus before us. “There’s a lot of typos on these menus.” 

“Or do you really think they have mobster soup?” 

Rex chuckled. “I’m dying to try out the ultimate crap burger.” 

“The menu is very seafood based.” 

“I wouldn’t get seafood from a place like this. You’d be shitting all week.” 

I pursed my lips. “Probably the safest option is just to get some fries and cokes?” I suggested. 

Rex shrugged. “That sounds good,” he spun and raised his hand, “excuse me!” 

Within seconds, Ruth returned to our table. Her piercing eyes seared a burning hole into us, and I averted my stare. “Could we just get two plates of fries and two cokes please?” 

“Alright.” She responded in an emotionless tone, before she turned away again. 

“So how are things going with the new album?” I asked. 

“It’s good… the old man is gonna book us on a tour soon.” 

“That sounds like fun.” 

“Yeah, thirteen hours stuck on the road with a bunch of guys in a tiny tour bus, I can’t wait.” Rex said sarcastically. 

“Well, still you get to tour,” I commented and flipped a strand of my hair away from my face, “my mom’s just been badgering me about why I’m constantly sitting around the house.” I said, and then immediately regretted it. I shook my head, “sorry- you don’t need to hear me whine.” 

“No, no.” He reassured me. “I’m just glad we’ve finally got some alone time together.” 

“That, for sure.” 

“I’ve missed you though.” He said as he nudged closer towards me, his arm wrapped around me. 

“Same. Band practice has just been intense these days.” I explained, trying not to utter Billy’s name. 

“Well we’ve got all the time now.” He said, before he lowered his head and planted a kiss on the side of my neck.

I giggled. 

Rex continued to leave a trail of kisses, before I turned and our mouths found each other. My lips parted and he slipped his tongue into me. Then, I felt Rex’s hand graze against my bare thigh. 

I moaned into him, he drew back. His face was only a mere inch away from me. “I’ve been waiting all week for this.” He breathed, as I felt his hot breath caress my skin. 

Slowly, his hand found its way under my skirt. I held my breath, as my heart pounded against my chest. He smirked, as his fingers hooked into the elastic waistband of my panties. My mind raced, as I could only predict what was going to happen. 

All of a sudden, Rex paused, his fingers lingered on the waistband. “Can I?” He asked, his tone was low and soft. 

I nodded, unable to conjure up the words. 

His hand gripped onto my thigh as he guided them open allowing him access, then he pressed his fingertips over my entrance as he began to massage the area, going in circles through the fabric. 

I was suddenly very conscious about the fact that there was only a tablecloth that acted as a barrier underneath our unvirtuous act. Yet at that moment, I couldn’t care less, being utterly possessed with desire and passion, I allowed Rex to do as he pleased with me. 

Rex’s fingers continued to go in circular motions as he increased the speed. My breathing quickened, and I gripped onto the edge of the table, trying hard to not squirm. A devious smile flashed across Rex’s face, as he watched me with desire filled in his eyes. 

My breathing quickened, as Rex fastened his pace, his hand continued going in circular motions against me. Then, his fingers went up and down, and down and up as he continued to stroke my entrance and I felt the wetness down below. 

“Oh god,” I moaned. 

“Shh. Try to keep it down baby, we are in public after all.” He teased. 

I threw my head back, as my hand continued to grip down onto the edge of the table, as I slowly allowed myself to be lost in the pleasure. Just then, my gaze drifted over towards the window where I recognized two familiar faces. 

I gasped. 

Rex stared at me in bewilderment. “Shit! It’s Billy!”

“What?” He asked in confusion. 

Rex retreated his hand as he got up. “No! Billy’s coming in, he’ll see you.” I yelled, as the adrenaline began to course through me. “Hide under the table.” 

“Fuck man.” He muttered as he slid down underneath the table. 

Billy stepped into the diner, immediately his eyes locked with mine. He cocked his head to the side as he approached my table. “Hey.” He asked. 

“Hey, what’s up? I’m surprised to see you here.”

Billy stuttered. “Yeah- hmm, I was just in the neighborhood,” he answered, as a small petite blonde girl joined him. 

My eyes narrowed at the resemblance she bore with someone. Suddenly, realization struck me. “Aren’t you Tom’s sister?” I asked, as I pointed at her. 

The girl averted her gaze and Billy cleared his throat. “Yeah… she is, we ran into each other and we got a bit hungry.” 

At that moment, Ruth stepped towards my table as she set down the tray which contained two plates of fries and two cokes, before she stalked off. 

Billy raised an eyebrow. “I’m really hungry too.” I commented. 

“Uh-huh.” He said. 

All of a sudden, I lurched forward as I felt Rex’s hand on my entrance, as he moved in circular motions again. 

Billy’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” I squealed, as I tried my best to repress the thoughts and control myself. 

“Well, we’re just gonna eat and then we’ll be outta here… I’d rather you didn’t say anything to Tom.” Billy said, as he stared deep into my eyes. 

“Of course.” I said between gritted teeth. 

Once Billy and the girl had stalked off, I patted underneath the table cloth trying to motion Rex to stop. We were trapped here like rats. 

I waved at Ruth as I tried to grasp for her attention. She pulled a face and dragged her feet towards me. 

“Yes?” She asked in a monotone voice. 

“I will literally give you ten bucks if you can help us get outta here without that guy over there seeing us.” I said to her in a low tone, as I carefully pointed behind me. 

Ruth’s eyes narrowed at me. “I’ll open up a table cloth and you and ya boy can run off.” 

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” 

“It’s not my first time doing this.” 

“What?” 

Ruth smirked. “This place. It’s where all the cheaters or couples who can’t be seen come to.” 

I felt my cheeks flush. I slammed down the money onto the table, as Ruth returned with a tablecloth as she opened it up creating a safe haven for Rex and I to escape. 

—---

The moment I returned home, I threw my jacket angrily on the couch, as I stalked towards the kitchen and proceeded to make myself a PB&J sandwich. After the disaster that had unfolded at the diner earlier, I was in no mood. 

In the distance, I heard the thudding sounds of footsteps, as I cocked my head to the side and watched as my mom emerged. 

“Hey, what are you doing back home so early? I thought you were gonna stay over at Scarlet’s.” My mom inquired. Something I had made up and told my mom earlier. 

I groaned. “Yeah, Scarlet bailed.” I lied. 

“Oh.” 

My gaze drifted over towards the suitcase that had sat beside the couch. “What is that?” I asked, as I gestured towards the suitcase. 

“I’ve gotta go to Vermont for a few days, it’s a work thing.” 

My eyes widened, as I tried to remain cool, repressing the temptation to jump up into the air. “Oh, that’s sudden.” 

“Yeah, I fly in the morning.” My mom said, then added, “well, I’m gonna go to bed now. You don’t stay up too late,” she ordered, “I’ve also made a batch of stew and put them in the freezer, I don’t want you loading up on pizza whilst I’m gone.” 

“Of course, thanks mom.” 

“Alright, be good.” She said as she stepped towards me and placed a kiss on my cheek before stalking off. 

Not able to contain my excitement any longer, I lunged towards the phone in the living room and dialed in the number to the Abbott house. 

After several rings, a familiar voice answered. 

“Rex.” I said. 

“Yeah, hey- I was just about to call you. The diner earlier-” 

I shook my head. “Listen Rex, it’s fine,” I cut him off, “my mom’s going to be out of town. Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow night?”

[prophbuilds]

Totally Pro DIY: Spray Booth Mk.2

It’s been a joke with me that my gear is “Totally Pro". My dollar store brushes? Totally Pro. My craft store acrylics? Totally Pro. My makeshift SDCS box filled with cardboard scraps I use to hold my parts? Totally Pro.

All of it is just me doing what I can with what I got.

One area where this doesn’t really work well is my spray booth. It's a cardboard box that I used in the summer months to spray parts outside. It was - at best - a glorified windscreen. It is currently holding a bunch of random stuff as it’s too cold to do anything outside what with it being the middle of Winter where I'm at.

This left me with one option…

I needed to make a new Totally Pro Spray Booth.

The idea was simple: I needed an actual spray booth that I could use indoors with my acrylics. It had to have all the parts of a proper desktop booth without being big or expensive. I have been searching for something to fill this spot in my equipment for Years. My Art Desk has little to no room so most commercial booths are out of the question.

Even if it did, I needed something that could be packed up and put away no problem as I have little space to store things. Again, this knocks out most commercial booths out there.

Then there's the price. Small-ish desktop booths cost over $100 for the cheapest entries. You are getting $100+ worth of equipment for some of these but it's still too pricey for a bit of kit I'll use once in a great while.

On the Maker side of things, I’ve seen Plenty of DIY booths made from storage bins and bathroom vent fans and LED strips for lighting. Same with ones built from plastic foamboard. They're too big for my needs or needlessly expensive at some point in the process - usually the fan as it needs to be able to handle possibly flammable vapor.

Again, my biggest worry is Space – both packed and in-use. Those fans eat up the bulk of it. That particular way of building a booth was scrapped, too.

I needed a better solution.

Enter the Solder Fume Fan.

Although rare that I do electronics, I do love watching folks make stuff. I was going through some repair videos while writing one night and I noticed that the person was using a little boxy desktop fan – a 140mm computer fan in a little blue box with a filter - to pull the smoke away from them as they worked. It was a commercial product, too. Unlike a homemade piece, I could actually buy that.

This gave me an idea.

Find a cheap and super basic solder fume fan with a speed control. I toss that into a box big enough to hold a replacement booth filter. It's small enough to fit on the desk and I could use the fan elsewhere if I needed to.

And thus the Totally Pro Spray Booth Mk.2 was born! = D

I had a small 12 inch by 8 inch by 4 inch box from the last batch of parts I’d bought from Gundam Planet. It's shorter than most spray booth filters but a pair of scissors made the filter fit.

The fan unit I bought has a little wire base so I planned that into the design. It keeps the box from sliding around. The unit has bump out on the front and back with one holding the thin charcoal filter. That’s the side that pulls air and the side I had to cut a hole in the box to fit. A little slice and dice later and I can stick the whole box onto the fan with a good mechanical fit. It acts as another air seal, too. The filter just goes right into the box and the thing is ready to rock.

The easiest part was holding the flaps open so I could use the thing. I just unbent some paperclips and slid them in-between the layers of the cardboard to make everything both stay open and easily removable when it’s time to pack it away.

Now… you might wonder if this was a good idea. Well, the suction from the fan is more than enough at 2/3rds speed to draw the paint spray from my little airbrush. The filters catch any particulate that’s at risk of making my Art Desk a pain to clean (I placed a bit of paper behind it to check if it was doing the job I needed it to). The fan is theoretically Electrostatic Discharge (ESD) Safe so that should make it less of a fire risk.

The whole thing cost me like $50. Only extra thing I didn’t need to do was bring a different box to this project. You could literally buy the stuff and just use the box it shipped in.

Overall, I’m happy with this. It works like I need it to. I can now use my airbrush on stuff and in the comfort of my own home, no less!

Totally Pro equipment, indeed. = )

[luthien-under-bough]

Thoughts on the gown: - I don't think it's old, it's just looking at her. And what she wants. I would say maybe not cotton. Isn't there a huge fireplace in the painted room. Maybe silk as a substitute? It can be thin silk so it's see through. He has seen her naked atp

Speaking as a fellow short girl the silhouette is a tad too long for her it would make her look boxy. Especially the trim on the bottom.

The neckline does nothing for her.

I agree with the tie straps completely.

Maybe not all white. Throw in an accent color?

I think she would layer for extra fun, like maybe a thin robe over a gown?

It's all about the presentation. Girl wants to hear her man breathing hard if she can't see him. haha

Anon just sent this one, which I really like.

I love a sheer robe - maybe that's what's in a different color?

Also, I'm not sure if we ever established this - does Rhaenyra ever leave DS once she arrives there? I had in my head that she just kinda moves in and doesn't leave. Harrold keeps the place stocked with food for her. Maybe she goes down to the village too. But basically, would she have packed lingerie when she first went there?? Otherwise she'd have to go get it from somewhere. (Can't just Amazon it since internet doesn't work there)

[shanghaiyadanofficefurniture]

Breaking the Stereotype: Steel Furniture Can Be Elegant Too

Steel and wood are two of the most common materials used to make furniture. While wood is often associated with warmth and elegance, steel is known for its strength and durability. Wood has a natural beauty and unique texture, while steel can be molded into various shapes and designs. However, despite its practical advantages, steel is often seen as cold and lacking in style compared to wood. In this article, we'll compare our steel furniture with IKEA's products to show that steel furniture can be just as elegant and visually interesting as wooden furniture.

The People's Impression About Steel Furniture

The stereotype about steel furniture is that it's plain, lacking style or design, and used in serious places like companies, banks, and warehouses. It's often seen as cold boxes or shelves with simple functions. However, this stereotype is not necessarily true.

Comparison Between Some of Our Products and IKEA's Wooden Products

The texture of wood furniture can also be realized in steel furniture through special craftsmanship. Here are three comparisons between our steel furniture and IKEA's wooden furniture:

Comparison 1: Chest of Drawers

Our Massa Collection of black steel chest of drawers (picture below, left) take some inspiration from the wooden ones of IKEA (right). They're able to create a three-dimensional effect with visible gaps and more planes and layers on the rim. But at the same time, we use a metal, golden knob handle to create a noble feeling.

Visit our site to explore more details about our Massa steel chest of drawers.

Comparison 2: Wardrobe with Boxy Pattern

This wooden wardrobe from IKEA (picture below, right) has a textured surface with sunken boxes that create a visually dynamic and three-dimensional effect. This can also be realized in our steel wardrobe. In fact, steel material is easier to be deformed through punching, bending, rolling and other processes. Steel has better ductility and tenacity than wood, allowing for more intricate designs.

By adding these sunken box designs, our steel wardrobe is able to have more depth and dimension, which helps to the bring in the beauty of texture typically seen in wood furniture while also keeping steel’s characters of firmness and angularity.

And we go above and beyond by designing different sizes of boxes and arrange them in different directions. We also add these exquisite handles made of leather and metal buckles to gift it a touch of luxury and sophistication.

Comparison 3: Wardrobe with Raw Wood Texture

This IKEA wooden wardrobe (picture below, right) has a color and texture of raw wood on all of its surfaces except the door. We can do the same with our steel wardrobe using the Wood Grain Transfer technique. This technique can be used to give the appearance of wood on the surface of the steel.

The process involves printing a wood grain pattern onto a special paper, which is then placed onto the surface of the steel. Heat is applied to the paper, causing the ink to transfer onto the steel and creating a wood-like appearance.

And for this wardrobe of ours (picture above, left), which obviously looks like wood, or at least partially using wood, can you tell it's actually all steel? Amazing. While retaining the characteristics of the steel structure that can bear more weight, it also adds a natural touch and warmth to the space.

And don't forget that steel surface is particularly well-suited for beautiful, high-definition graphics with a variety of painting/spraying techniques. This Chinese styled painting we added on its doors is a wonderful addition and enhancement to this design.

Visit our site to explore more details about our steel wardrobe with wooden texture.

Steel's Strength

Steel furniture is not only aesthetically pleasing but also has many practical advantages over wooden furniture.

Steel is more sustainable as it doesn't require cutting down trees, and is recyclable at the end of its life cycle. In addition, the technique of powder coating is used to color and treat the surface of our steel furniture. This method is healthier as it doesn't contain formaldehyde or other harmful Volatile Organic Compounds (VOCs), which is typically involved in traditional wet painting. It also makes the color with better texture as it's thicker and fuller.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the stereotype about steel furniture being plain and lacking style is not necessarily true. By comparing our steel furniture with IKEA's products, we can see that steel furniture can be just as elegant and visually interesting as wooden furniture. Through special craftsmanship, steel can mimic the texture and three-dimensional effects of wood while also offering benefits such as strength and sustainability. It's time to break the stereotype and consider steel furniture as a stylish and functional option for any space.

[blackwoolncrown]

For the past few days, a heatwave has glowered over the Pacific Northwest, forcing temperatures in the region to a record-breaking 118ºF. Few people in the region—neither Americans nor Canadians—have air-conditioning. Stores sold out of new AC units in hours as a panicked public sought a reasonable solution to the emergency. Unfortunately, air-conditioning is part of what’s causing the unusual heatwave in the first place.

We came close to destroying all life on Earth during the Cold War, with the threat of nuclear annihilation. But we may have come even closer during the cooling war, when the rising number of Americans with air conditioners—and a refrigerant industry that fought regulation—nearly obliterated the ozone layer. We avoided that environmental catastrophe, but the fundamental problem of air conditioning has never really been resolved.

Mechanical cooling appeared in the early 1900s not for comfort but for business. In manufacturing, the regulation of temperature—“process cooling”—controlled the quality of commodities like cotton, tobacco, and chewing gum. In 1903, Alfred Wolff installed the first cooling system for people at the New York Stock Exchange because comfortable traders yielded considerably higher stock returns. Only in the ’20s did “commercial cooling” appear. On Memorial Day weekend 1925, Willis Carrier debuted the first centrifugal air-conditioning system at the Rivoli Theater in Midtown Manhattan. Previously, theaters had shut down in the summer. With air-conditioning, the Rivoli became “the talk of Broadway” and inaugurated the summer blockbuster.

-another direct tie to capitalism. Everything born out of colonio-capitalism carries its toxic mark. Article totally not under the cut for those who can’t pay for Time. It honestly paints a really clear picture of the situation. Bolding mine.-

“It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.“

Before World War II, almost no one had air-conditioning at home. Besides being financially impractical and culturally odd, it was also dangerous. Chemical refrigerants like sulfur dioxide and methyl chloride filled most fridges and coolers, and leaks could kill a child, poison a hospital floor, even blow up a basement. Everything changed with the invention of Freon in 1928. Non-toxic and non-explosive, Freon was hailed as a “miracle.” It made the modernist skyscraper—with its sealed windows and heat-absorbing materials—possible. It made living in the desert possible. The small, winter resort of Phoenix, Arizona, became a year-round attraction. Architecture could now ignore the local climate. Anywhere could be 65ºF with 55% humidity. Cheap materials made boxy, suburban tract housing affordable to most Americans, but the sealed-up, stifling design of these homes required air-conditioning to keep the heat at bay. Quickly, air-conditioning transitioned from a luxury to a necessity. By 1980, more than half of all U.S. homes were air-conditioned. And despite millions of Black Americans fleeing the violence of Jim Crow, the South saw greater in-migration than out-migration for the first time—a direct result of AC. The American car was similarly transformed. In 1955, only 10 percent of American cars had air-conditioning. Thirty years later, it came standard.

The cooling boom also altered the way we work. Now, Americans could work anywhere at any hour of the day. Early ads for air-conditioning promised not health or comfort but productivity. The workday could proceed no matter the season or the climate. Even in the home, A/C brought comfort as a means to rest up before the next work day.

The use of air-conditioning was as symbolic as it was material. It conveyed class status. Who did and didn’t have air-conditioning often fell starkly along the color line, too, especially in the South. It conquered the weather and, with it, the need to sweat or squirm or lie down in the summer swelter. In that sense, air-conditioning allowed Americans to transcend their physical bodies, that long-sought fantasy of the Puritan settlers: to be in the world but not of it. Miracle, indeed.

But it came with a price. As it turned out, Freon isn’t exactly non-toxic. Freon is a chlorofluorocarbon (CFC), which depletes the ozone layer and also acts as a global warming gas. By 1974, the industrialized world was churning out CFCs, chemicals that had never appeared on the planet in any significant quantities, at a rate of one million metric tons a year—the equivalent mass of more than 500,000 cars. That was the year atmospheric chemists Sherry Rowland and Mario Molina first hypothesized that the chlorine molecules in CFCs might be destroying ozone in the stratosphere by bonding to free oxygen atoms and disrupting the atmosphere’s delicate chemistry. By then, CFCs were used not only as refrigerants but also as spray can propellants, manufacturing degreasers, and foam-blowing agents.

The ozone layer absorbs the worst of the sun’s ultraviolet radiation. Without stratospheric ozone, life as we know it is impossible. A 1 percent decline in the ozone layer’s thickness results in thousands of new cases of skin cancer. Greater depletion would lead to crop failures, the collapse of oceanic food systems, and, eventually, the destruction of all life on Earth.

In the 1980s, geophysicist Joseph Farman confirmed the Rowland-Molina hypothesis when he detected a near-absence of ozone over Antarctica—the “Ozone Hole.” A fierce battle ensued among industry, scientists, environmentalists, and politicians, but in 1987 the U.S signed the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, which ended Freon production.

The Montreal Protocol remains the world’s only successful international environmental treaty with legally binding emissions targets. Annual conferences to re-assess the goals of the treaty make it a living document, which is revised in light of up-to-date scientific data. For instance, the Montreal Protocol set out only to slow production of CFCs, but, by 1997, industrialized countries had stopped production entirely, far sooner than was thought possible. The world was saved through global cooperation.

The trouble is that the refrigerants replacing CFCs, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), turned out to be terrible for the planet, too. While they have an ozone-depleting potential of zero, they are potent greenhouse gases. They absorb infrared radiation from the sun and Earth and block heat that normally escapes into outer space. Carbon dioxide and methane do this too, but HFCs trap heat at rates thousands of times higher. Although the number of refrigerant molecules in the atmosphere is far fewer than those of other greenhouse gases, their destructive force, molecule for molecule, is far greater.

In three decades, the production of HFCs grew exponentially. Today, HFCs provide the cooling power to almost any air conditioner in the home, in the office, in the supermarket, or in the car. They cool vaccines, blood for transfusions, and temperature-sensitive medications, as well as the data processors and computer servers that make up the internet—everything from the cloud to blockchains. In 2019, annual global warming emissions from HFCs were the equivalent of 175 million metric tons of carbon dioxide.

In May, the EPA signaled it will begin phasing down HFCs and replacing them with more climate-friendly alternatives. Experts agree that a swift end to HFCs could prevent as much as 0.5ºC of warming over the next century—a third of the way to the goals of the Paris Climate Agreement.

Yet regardless of the refrigerant used, cooling still requires energy. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, air-conditioning accounts for nearly a fifth of annual U.S. residential electricity use. This is more energy for cooling overall and per capita than in any other nation. Most Americans consider the cost of energy only in terms of their electricity bills. But it’s also costing us the planet. Joe Biden’s announcement to shift toward a renewable energy infrastructure obscures the uncertainty of whether that infrastructure could meet Americans’ outrageously high energy demand—much of it for cooling that doesn’t save lives. Renewable energy infrastructure can take us only so far. The rest of the work is cultural. From Freon to HFCs, we keep replacing chemical refrigerants without taking a hard look at why we’re cooling in the first place.

Comfort cooling began not as a survival strategy but as a business venture. It still carries all those symbolic meanings, though its currency now works globally, cleaving the world into civilized cooling and barbaric heat. Despite what we assume, as a means of weathering a heat wave, individual air-conditioning is terribly ineffective. It works only for those who can afford it. But even then, their use in urban areas only makes the surrounding micro-climate hotter, sometimes by a factor of 10ºF, actively threatening the lives of those who don’t have access to cooling. (The sociologist Eric Klinenberg has brilliantly studied how, in a 1995 Chicago heat wave, about twice as many people died than in a comparable heat wave forty years earlier due to the city’s neglect of certain neighborhoods and social infrastructure.) Ironically, research suggests that exposure to constant air-conditioning can prevent our bodies from acclimatizing to hot weather, so those who subject themselves to “thermal monotony” are, in the end, making themselves more vulnerable to heat-related illness.

And, of course, air-conditioning only works when you have the electricity to power it. During heatwaves, when air-conditioning is needed most, blackouts are frequent. On Sunday, with afternoon temperatures reaching 112ºF around Portland, the power grid failed for more than 6,300 residences under control by Portland General Electrics.

The troubled history of air-conditioning suggests not that we chuck it entirely but that we focus on public cooling, on public comfort, rather than individual cooling, on individual comfort. Ensuring that the most vulnerable among the planet’s human inhabitants can keep cool through better access to public cooling centers, shade-giving trees, safe green spaces, water infrastructure to cool, and smart design will not only enrich our cities overall, it will lower the temperature for everyone. It’s far more efficient this way.

To do so, we’ll have to re-orient ourselves to the meaning of air-conditioning. And to comfort. Privatized air-conditioning survived the ozone crisis, but its power to separate—by class, by race, by nation, by ability—has survived, too. Comfort for some comes at the expense of the life on this planet.

It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.

[glecd]

10/???

wooooh drew the gen 3 people I had messed up with Deacons hand sadly since I accidentally painted on the lineart layer

writing/description of my hand headcanons

from up to down

Curie out of all the other hands is the most petite and most tiny one outta the bunch (well hopefully I drew it like that and got all the measurements right-). The shape of her hand is very slender while she also has long vertical clean nails she really does try her best to keep her new body clean and pristine as she possibly could. Her hands are probably the most soft and squishy out of all the companions also leaves a nice smell every time she'd hold your hand.

Danse HAS the hands of a man that'll fight the war and build a house for you all at the same time. Opposing to Curie, Danse has the biggest hand of the batch of hands I've drawn (well after Strongs of course)He has some boxy shaped nails is very hairy and has those bulging muscular veins. It's often you'd find a bits of dust, dirt and cuts on his hand but those were mostly received whenever he's tinkering

X6-88 has bony knuckles long sleek fingers but they aren't skinny his hand size is also pretty average. There isn't much to say with his hands he keeps them clean just like Curie but it's mostly a protocol for him to clean himself so he won't entrial any germs whenever he goes back to the institute

Decon...I actually can't come up with a description for Deacons, he modifies his body so his hands probably change a lot as well that also maybe because I'm a bit salty after accidentally ruining the drawing process for myself so I couldn't really give much personality with his hands.

[biracialdisaster]

All the Stars that Light the Road - Pt 1

Thank you so much to @spooky-ghosts for taking this journey with me. It's been a ride.

Words: 1,186 ~ Fandom: Uncharted (the movie, 2022, but can also be read as younger!game!Nathan) ~ Warnings: Swears.

*

The rain pounds relentlessly. It’s near impossible to see. You might have made it to the ghost town in the middle of Bumfuck, Arizona, but fuck if you can even see your own hand in front of your face. Your clothes are soaked. Nate’s too. His white henley, filthy now, clings to his torso in ways that should be illegal, delineating muscle and sinew. You hadn’t noticed that he was jacked before. When you’d met him a week ago in that boxy, shapeless hoodie, eyes cast down over piles of curly-edged maps, you’d written him off as some over-eager oddity, a boy that wanted to be a shinier, more charming version of Sully.

But now you know that he’s different.

“We have to get out of the rain!” He half-shouts over the downpour.

“Yes!” You shout back. The syllables are snatched away by the relentless torrent.

“Map showed an abandoned hotel on the next street,” Nate tells you, leaning in close so you can hear him. His nearness prickles your senses. You nod sharply, telling yourself to think of the endgame. When you can retrieve the missing jewellery box, give it to Sully, and call your debt paid.

And go back to your life and never think about Nathan Drake again.

Nate with his quick, easy smile and warm eyes and confident strides.

You turn the corner. There are no other people around - not a surprise, you have come to a ghost town, after all. You’re two drowned rats out here.

The spectre of the hotel beckons, a three-story building with lettering erected along the roof, Hollywood style. Six or seven of the letters are missing, having fallen victim to elements and time. You stare up at it for a long moment. Nate tugs your arm. “C’mon. Inside.”

You shiver at a sudden slap of rain, and follow him as he works at slats nailed over a ground floor window.

This building would once have been opulence made tangible. You can see it in the bones of the place. Grandeur. Excess. Pleasure. It whispers these things in the paintwork, the stained glass doors, the art deco edging around the boarded up windows.

Nate prises off one of the wooden slats and you hurry to work on the next one. Finally, panting with the effort, you make a gap big enough for the two of you to squeeze through. There’s limited light in the building and you hit the ground in a forward roll to protect your head. Nate follows suit and you hear the thump of his big body connecting with the ancient carpet.

The dust makes you cough. There’s a thick layer of it everywhere.

You dig into your pack. Common sense, and experience of such misadventures with Sully, made you wrap everything in plastic bags, and now you fish out a completely dry torch with a grin of triumph.

Nate looks over at you, swiping wet hair away from his eyes. “Nice.”

Yes, you think, your gaze eating up his wet white henley, painted on to his chest and abs. Really nice. But you keep quiet, flicking the torch on.

The circle of light plays over an old cherrywood bar with beer pumps and lines and lines of bottles of liquor, the colourful labels making you smile even as the rain thumps the windows from outside.

The carpet is a rich, Cadbury chocolate purple, the back of the bar papered in the same plummy shade, bisected with thin stripes of gold. Yeah. This place would’ve been amazing, and not so long ago, if the circa 1980s chairs - several of them threadbare and upturned - are any indication.

You flop back down onto the carpet with a squelch. You’ll need to get undressed and into warm clothes. Rustling behind you makes you turn and you bobble the flashlight when you see that Nate’s had the same idea. His shoulder holster lies on the floor and he’s peeling the sodden white henley up over his stomach and chest. A crack of lightning from beyond the window panes kisses the ring he wears around his neck with a flash of silver.

The wet fabric finally passes over Nate’s damply curling hair and he meets your gaze, a crooked grin tugging up the left side of his mouth. “Somethin’ on my face?”

You turn away, heat creeping up your neck. “Shut up.”

He just grins more, and starts wringing out his shirt.

You switch your attention to your backpack, taking out a plastic bag of spare clothes. “Sully always thought I was such a dweeb for packing all this stuff,” you say absently as you pick out a new top, underwear, jeans, and socks.

“Seems like he was jealous,” Nate says at length. You can feel his gaze on your back. “You make a good partner.”

His praise warms you, but you push the feelings down. You’ll be back in your own life next week. You can’t get attached, even if he is cute. Even if he is on the kind side of snarky, even if he is whip-smart and knows more about history than anyone you went to college with.

“So far.”

“So far,” he agrees. More rustling. You daren’t look because he’s probably taking off his pants. You can’t look. Your face is burning.

“I’m just gonna change behind the bar.” You stand up, staring straight ahead, and make a bee line for the imposing cherrywood bar, dry clothes piled in your hands. In the corner of your vision you catch a glimpse of smooth, lightly tanned skin. You can’t tell which part of his body it is and you don’t want to know. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

As quickly as you can, you change into the dry clothes, but it’s not quick enough. You’ve been in the rain too long. You’re shivering.

You rub your hands up and down your arms, but hiding behind the bar isn’t helping - there might be acres of mould down here for all you know - so you hang your wet clothes off a couple of the dried-out beer taps and round the bar.

Nate’s standing by the boarded-up windows, the circular torchlight casting an old-Hollywood glow on the hard lines of his body. He’s still wearing his pants, but his belt is undone and he’s shucked off his socks and boots. His bare feet seem oddly intimate, but when he turns, he’s holding two huge heavily tasselled throws.

He smiles a little. “You looked cold. This is the best I could find. Not too dusty - and no bugs.”

Your heart just turns over. He’s going to be eaten alive in this business. Is he? Isn’t he?

But then, okay, he’s soft and warm, sometimes. But you’ve seen him scan a map like a professional cartographer. Seen him reel off historical events like you would list days of the week. Watched him load and check a pistol, no hesitation, smooth handling, like he does it all the time. He’s a study in contradictions, Nathan Drake.

[demigirlravenqueen]

Historically ever after part 4

Apple I-Can’t-Think-Of-A-Clever-Title-This-Time White 

I’m going to be referring back to my previous post about Raven so I’d advise checking that out as both their outfits draw inspiration from the Elizabethan era which makes sense as they from the same fairytale. it’s not essential but I go into more detail in some things like ruffs.

So like I said Apples outfits draw quite heavily on fashion from the Elizabethan era which is what I’m here to talk about.

And look all the doll art is the same as the show so I don’t have to spend hours looking for low resolution screenshots or compare the two yay!

Her thronecoming day outfit has a ruff like I talked about in the previous post. It’s also very accurate in the way it’s made. it’s made of folded fabric.

The patterns on the fabric are once again quite similar.

There’s also an opening at the front of the skirt which did appear in some dresses.

The shape of the skirt is very different, it’s round and bell shaped with lots of light chiffon layers wile most skirts from this era quite were boxy and made of heavy fabrics.

Now this dress is something I want to talk about.

Once again she has a ruff this time it’s made of gold (real ruffs weren’t made of metal but the inspiration is still there). Another thing I want to talk about is the sort of trails behind the sleeves which remind me a lot of this portrait of Queen Elisabeth. ((Side note: why can’t more royal portraits look like this? Is she standing on a map of England?! Look at that background that looks sick!))

The fabric patterns are also similar. Gold on white appears quite frequently in the portraits. 

As for some scattered bits.

The collar on her signature outfit and her way to wonderland outfit remind me of the makeshift ruffs that the working class would wear. 

By which I mean they’re extremely similar especially in way to wonderland where it’s clearly an under layer that comes up above the neck line and forms the collar which is a common way I’ve seen these worn in paintings, which is one of those details I keep coming across in these posts that seem both too subtle to be intentional and too specific not to be.

The little ruffled bits on her sleeves on her school spit outfit remind me a little of the little puffed parts of the tops of the sleeves earlier in the era.

And that just about raps it up. As always be free t add on or correct me.  Part 0   Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Interior designer Cath’s apartment definitely proves limited square footage needn't hold you back from going big on style and color.

The living room/kitchen might be on the small side, but it crams in so much color and pattern and quirky shapes and styles that just totally distracted from the smaller proportions of the room. Salmon pink walls complement the darker, more muted pink of the velvet sofa. The pops of lilac add another layer of color.

Cath had to add a quirky touch and replace the handles with amber knobs for the top cabinets and lilac agate on the bottom. The mirrored backsplash really helps to make the kitchen feel less boxy, tricking the eye into thinking the room continues beyond.

Leading on from the living room is a small but incredibly striking dining room. It's the standout room in the apartment, with all four walls and the ceiling covered in a bold wallpaper. The dining furniture are antique market finds.

The bold wallpaper theme continues in the hallway with a 50s inspired print. The colors are softer and more muted than in the dining room but there's still that space-expanding effect.

Cath fell for this cheery tulip print used on the headboard and that became the starting point for the bedroom. The headboard and red lacquer tables with the backdrop of the softer pinks and blues gives the space a contemporary edge, despite all the vintage pieces.

A lot of the bedroom furniture is sourced from vintage fairs or passed on from family.

The second bedroom has the most neutral color scheme of all the rooms, because of its small size Cath wanted to stick with a lighter palette to keep the room feeling fresh and bright.

The bathroom is actually the one that came with the apt. however, Cath has of course given it a colorful makeover, painting the walls and replacing the tiles with high impact rainbow stripes.

https://www.livingetc.com/features/tiny-maximalist-london-apartment

[rubykgrant]

As promised, I finally finished all my RVB pin-ups! (these are honestly pretty tame, mostly just cutesy poses and anatomy practice. I’m putting the full image under a cut below). I spent a couple of weeks drawing these, sometimes trying multiple poses until finally they looked right, and then I had to travel to scan the pictures... and the scanner was really wonky. It washed out certain colors, while over-saturating others. It was just really weird. So, the only solution was to try to edit and fix the scanned images on my computer, and since I only have MS Paint with no layers, this was a challenge. I basically had to add the colors, then go over my lines so they would be clear, and finally erase around the edges. It took another few days to fix them all, but I did it!

Here is big red, Sarge~

I struggled with this pose for quite a while... my fault for deciding on something difficult, but come on! I had to go with a push-up. Also, a one-handed push-up at that, because Sarge has to show off. I actually showed my mom all these pictures as I finished them (and she cracked me up, she’d say “That’s a very cute naked person, honey. Now, go color another one” like I’m drawing unicorns or something haha). When she saw Sarge, she said “He looks like a big silver back gorilla”, and she had no idea how ironic and hilarious that actually is.

I imagine Sarge being the shortest of the group, very beefy and very boxy. He’s also got the most body hair of the group. Plenty of scars as well (the ones on his knuckles are from punching so hard while wearing older armor, his hands would get scraped on the inside. newer armor has better padding). I wanted his face to look smug, like he’s saying “Yes, I know you’re looking at me, I can’t blame you”. As you can see, he doesn’t have much of a butt... and what is there is a tight little brick haha~

[muutosarchive]

his thin layer of pride is worn on the surface. papal paint acting as somewhat of a shield.. as without it - he is naught but a thinly framed, old man. he carries himself as a papa should, whilst in his regalia. & he suspects he should be the last, to do so. for secundo knows that while he did not ask for this responsibility, the fact is that he is the current representative of their bloodline - whether he likes it, or not. which is something he (selectively), takes seriously. or truly, he’s simply more concerned with his own self image. a peacock, in green & black. appearing in control, when he is not. he’s bulked up, beneath the robes. chin held high, with his typical uncaring expression. toughened by the deep, hollow eyes & carved cheeks. yet in the same breath, he finds all of these menial duties quite cumbersome. his presence in the ministry is filled with such routine, that is not present whilst on the road. besides - his family looming over him, stirs the discontent in his gut. & despite being mostly indifferent to what his father thinks of his reign, he knows it means nothing, anyway - knows, who truly scrutinizes him.

he’s wary of the affections received from the sisters. he’s aware their gawking is due only to the fact that he is papa. the connotations, of that. & it often turns his stomach when it doesn’t stroke his ego. yet, that is not to say he doesn’t indulge them. just that their attention had the potential to be as stale as old communion wafers. milky eye waggles within his skull, as he gazes at her, down the slope of his curved nose. she looks - seduced. as though she were one pulled from God, & lured to Satan. too sweet, are her eyes, not to be. shame to hide her away under such a boxy garment. he almost remarks, as much... he still might. his expression is not betrayed by the way he bends gracefully to kiss her hand. creased nose creating a permanent scowl. still holding her hand between his, he straightens & bows slightly. gloved hand fluidly waves off her clumsy latin before falling to her knuckles. “i’m sure you will, my child.” his tiredness is poorly masked by a building, yet small pool of lust that is ever present. slightly more digestible, to the female. “your dedication will no doubt serve the ministry well..” he nods, slightly. words sound scripted. pull of curiosity guiding his question. “but might you entertain an old man’s questions - as i am curious. where is it you came from, sister?”

@myseracion​    /  /     cont.