#steel lace sculptures

[zoeflake]

Jean Martin, a French welder turned artist, creates works in nuts that blend and interact with their environment.

Living on the paradise island of Saint-Barthélemy, the sculptor draws his inspiration from nature and its beauty.

His post-classical divinities are made from 20,000 stainless steel nuts, each individually welded.

The artist spends 10 hours a day wielding fire to give birth to gleaming iron creatures.

Working mainly with curves, his creations have a fluid, ethereal appearance, full of transparency. Interacting with the landscape, his sculptures evolve according to the four elements.

As the different lights reflect off the metal, the wind passes through the nuts, adding dimension to the work. galeries-bartoux

[seafarersdream]

The Draconic | 18+ (Modern AU Aegon Targaryen x Y/N)

When you’re in London, The Draconic is the place to be. It’s only the hottest club in town, where the drinks are as fiery as the dragons they’re named after, owned by Aegon Targaryen, the self-proclaimed nightlife king. Enter Y/N, Helaena’s best friend, who somehow finds herself tagging along, knowing Helaena’s outings usually end with a story worth telling (or hiding).

TW // Explicit sexual content, profanities, rough sex, mild BDSM elements, substance use (alcohol), smoking.

The Draconic exudes an air of mystery and exclusivity, with its grand entrance flanked by imposing dragon sculptures and the soft glow of green and gold lights illuminating the facade.

Inside, sultry Bossa Nova music drifts through the air, mingling with the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The main lounge is a spectacle of emerald and gold hues, with plush velvet seating and marble floors adorned with dragon motifs. Crystal chandeliers cast a shimmering light over the scene, creating an almost otherworldly ambiance.

At the center of the revelry, basking in the attention, stands Aegon Targaryen. He is every bit the king of this lavish domain, exuding confidence and charm as he mingles with the elite guests. His presence is magnetic, drawing eyes and whispers as he moves through the room, a glass of the finest bourbon in hand.

Y/N stood at the entrance of The Draconic, her eyes wide with awe as she took in the grandeur of the club. “Fuck me, this place is something else, Hel,” she muttered, her voice dripping with astonishment.

Helaena, with a cheeky grin, looped her arm through Y/N’s. “Told you, love. My brother couldn’t do subtle if it slapped him in the face.”

Y/N grinned. “Just promise me we won't end up in the tabloids... again.”

Helaena laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, darling, wherever Aegon goes, the cameras follow. It's like he's got his own bloody paparazzi fan club.”

Y/N snorted. “And it doesn’t help that your brother goes through London socialites faster than toilet paper in a public loo.”

Helaena rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. Last week, he was dating some heiress named Daphne. This week, it’s a Russian model called Tatiana. Next week, who knows? Perhaps the prime minister’s daughter.”

They made their way inside, the sultry Bossa Nova music wrapping around them like a velvet cloak. The air was perfumed with the scent of expensive cologne and the subtle, smoky undertone of fine cigars. As they passed through the grand foyer, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the dragon sculptures and the exquisite marble flooring.

“No phones allowed, remember,” Helaena reminded her, handing over their devices to the stern-looking security guard.

They entered the main lounge, and Y/N felt as if she'd stepped into another world. Patrons lounged on emerald green velvet seats, their conversations low and conspiratorial. The bar, a stunning creation of green onyx and gold, was the centerpiece of the room, with bartenders expertly mixing drinks for the elite clientele.

“There he is,” Helaena said, nudging Y/N. “Aegon.”

At the heart of the room, Aegon Targaryen commanded the space. His silver hair was slicked back, and his suit was tailored to perfection. He exuded an effortless charm, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips as he entertained his guests. The golden dragon pin on his lapel caught the light, a symbol of his dominion over this lavish playground.

“Come now, let's go say hi,” Helaena urged, dragging Y/N through the throng of people.

As they approached, Aegon’s eyes flicked towards them, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his face. “Sister! And this must be…?” he inquired, his voice smooth and welcoming, yet laced with a hint of something darker.

Y/N steeled herself, trying to exude confidence. “Y/N,” she introduced herself, noting that up close, Aegon was even more striking—his silver hair and lilac eyes giving him an almost ethereal allure.

“Ah, so this is the Y/N I’ve heard so much about,” Aegon said with a chuckle, his eyes lingering on her.

Helaena shot him a playful but warning glare. “Stop flirting with my best friend, Aegon. Go find another prey,” she quipped, though there was an edge to her tone that suggested she meant it.

Aegon chuckled lowly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I was merely admiring,” he said, his voice dripping with insincere innocence.

Helaena stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed Y/N's arm, dragging her toward the bar. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink.”

She ordered two Dragon Blood cocktails, which arrived looking unnervingly realistic, the deep red liquid swirling ominously in the glass.

Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into the back of her head. She took a sip of her drink, trying to ignore the unease. But she had a pretty good guess as to who was responsible for the intense gaze.

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Y/N and Helaena were well into their cups, each clutching a glass of Dark Sister cocktail. The liquid inside was an enchanting, a sinister shade of dark red almost purple, flecked with silver specks that swirled hypnotically. The taste was a heady mix of pomegranate and absinthe, with a smoky undertone that left a tantalizing burn in its wake.

Surrounded by a veritable graveyard of empty glasses—was this their eighth drink? Eleventh? They’d lost count hours ago—the two friends were deep in a rambling conversation about Helaena’s eccentric family.

“I mean, can you believe it?” Helaena slurred, her cheeks flushed with a rosy glow. “Mum's dating Rhaenyra.”

Y/N nearly choked. “Rhaenyra? As in, your half-sister Rhaenyra? The one who also has kids with your uncle Daemon?”

Helaena giggled, nodding vigorously. “Tell me about it. Every time I turn around, there's another plot twist. Yes, that one! So now, technically, my mum is dating my half-sister. It’s like our family tree is a vine, just tangling and looping all over the place.”

Y/N burst into laughter, almost spilling her drink. “That’s bloody brilliant. Do they make you call her mum or sis?”

Helaena cackled, nearly tipping off her stool. “Oh, gods, it’s even worse. Mum’s taken to calling her Nyra in that sickeningly sweet voice. And don't get me started on the kids—Joffrey, my little nephew, is fucking confused on how to address Alicent, bless him.”

Y/N was in stitches, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t even—imagine the Christmas dinners!”

Helaena grinned, raising her glass. “Here’s to family. Because who needs enemies when you’ve got relatives like mine?”

They clinked their glasses, the liquid inside shimmering under the club's lights. Y/N leaned in conspiratorially. “So, what’s the deal with Aemond? I haven’t seen him in ages.”

Helaena chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, Aemond. He’s gone completely off the grid. Last I heard, he was up north in Stromness. When I spoke to him, he was convinced he’d found evidence of a kraken. Sent me a photo of some squiggly line in the water and everything.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t he a marine biologist or something?”

Helaena nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, that’s the one. But he’s got this bizarre obsession with mythical creatures.”

Y/N laughed, this time spilling almost half of her drink. “Does he have a little notebook for his ‘discoveries’ too?”

Helaena snorted. “Oh, he’s got notebooks, alright. Filled with sketches of ‘sightings’ and elaborate plans to capture a sea serpent. We’re talking full-on mad scientist vibes.”

Y/N could hardly contain her amusement. “I can just picture him, all serious, scanning the horizon for a glimpse of a mythical beast. Does he ever actually do any real marine biology work?”

Helaena took another sip of her drink. “He does, but only when he’s not busy chasing legends. Last Christmas, he gave us all ‘Unseelie Repellent Spray.’ It was just water in a fancy bottle, but he was dead serious about it.”

Y/N shook her head in amusement. “Your family is a goldmine of entertainment, Hel. I don’t know how you keep up with it.”

Helaena shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. “It’s either laugh or cry, and I’d much rather laugh.

Suddenly, Helaena felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Oscar Tully standing there, his red, curly hair as wild as ever. His boyish face was littered with freckles, and he wore his signature lopsided grin.

“Oscar!” Helaena exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

“Hel!” Oscar replied, matching her enthusiasm.

The breakup had been mutual, and they’d managed to stay on good terms. They launched into small talk, catching up on life since they last saw each other.

“So, how’s the trout farm going?” Helaena asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Swimmingly, thanks for asking. Someone’s got to keep the world supplied.”

Y/N watched the exchange with amusement.

Oscar turned to her with a grin. “Mind if I steal Hel away for a bit? I promise to return her in one piece.”

Y/N waved her hand dramatically. “Oh, by all means, take her.”

He offered his arm to Helaena with a playful bow. “Milady?”

Helaena rolled her eyes but took his arm. As Y/N watched them blend into the crowd, she decided she’d had enough alcohol for one night. She could bet everything she had that Helaena would come back as drunk as George IV.

Standing up, she stumbled a bit and decided to find a quieter place to collect her thoughts. She remembered spotting some private booths earlier, each with high-backed, gold-trimmed seats and curtains that could be drawn for privacy. Each booth had a unique dragon nameplate.

She randomly picked one marked “Sunfyre,” thinking it would be empty.

To her shock, inside she found Aegon reclined luxuriously on the plush seat, his suit jacket discarded and shirt unbuttoned. The stunning brunette was on her knees between his legs, her head bobbing rhythmically as she performed the act with evident expertise. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and Aegon’s hand was entangled in her locks, guiding her movements with a mixture of roughness and intensity.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the scene, her breath catching in her throat. The woman’s lips glistened as they slid up and down Aegon’s cock, her hands working in tandem to heighten his pleasure. The air was thick with the sounds of their illicit encounter—the soft, wet noises of the brunette’s efforts and Aegon’s low, guttural groans of satisfaction.

His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the booth, lost in the sensations. His grip on the brunette’s hair tightened as he pulled her closer, his hips thrusting slightly in response. But then, as if sensing the intrusion, he opened his eyes and locked onto Y/N’s stunned gaze.

For a moment, neither moved. Y/N stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, unable to tear her eyes away from the intimate scene. Aegon’s expression shifted from pleasure to surprise.

Before he could say anything, Y/N snapped out of her stupor, spinning on her heel and practically fleeing from the booth. Her mind raced, the vivid image of Aegon seared into her memory. She needed a drink—something strong—to process what she had just witnessed. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for where it was heading.

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Y/N ordered two of the strongest cocktails served at the bar. The bartender, with a knowing smile, brought her a pair of Death by Flames. She downed the first in one go, feeling the intense heat and smoky flavors hit her like a fiery wave, but realized nothing could erase the image of Aegon from her mind.

“Motherfucker,” she muttered, cursing at herself. “Why do I always have the shittiest luck in the entire country?”

Cursing under her breath, she berated herself and her rotten luck. With frustration bubbling up, she decided to make a beeline for the loo, hoping that a splash of cold water might help clear her head.

Y/N stumbled into the bathroom, taking in the dragon-shaped faucets and sinks made of green marble. Gold accents and dragon motifs were everywhere, maintaining the club’s theme. Soft, ambient lighting in shades of green and gold created a warm, inviting atmosphere, with hidden LED strips along the walls and floor adding subtle highlights that enhanced the overall ambiance without overpowering the space.

She splashed her face repeatedly with water, each splash accompanied by a string of colorful profanities. “Bloody hell, piss off, for fuck's sake!”

She glanced at her reflection, seeing the crazed look and blown pupils. “Great, now I look like I’m the one who just gave someone else a fucking blowjob,” she groaned.

She fumbled with her bag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, hoping to calm her frayed nerves. As she lit up and took a deep drag, she caught her reflection again and decided it was time for a monologue, just to vent her frustration.

“Alright, Y/N, let’s have a little chat. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Did you honestly believe you’d find a quiet spot in a place called The Draconic? Clearly, you’ve lost the plot.”

She took another drag, pacing back and forth. “Oh, sure, let’s follow Helaena. What could possibly go wrong? Well, let me tell you, everything. First, you walk in on Aegon, the living embodiment of a Greek god getting a blow job from a woman who probably just stepped out of a lingerie commercial. And you? You're standing here, looking like you've just crawled out of a bloody coal mine. Fabulous.”

She paused, flicking ash into the sink. “Why, oh why, did I think coming to this club was a good idea? I’ve got Helaena’s ex chatting her up, and me, well, I’m left with the delightful mental image of Aegon’s magnificent cock. Just brilliant. What’s next? Is the bloody Kraken going to pop out of the toilet?”

Taking one last drag of her cigarette, she flicked it into the dragon-shaped ashtray with a flourish. “Right, Y/N. Time to pull yourself together, go back out there, and pretend you didn’t just have the most insane moment of your life. Maybe I’ll even find Helaena and we can laugh about this... in about ten years.”

With that, she took a deep breath, splashed her face one last time for good measure, and steeled herself.

It seemed the gods were laughing at her existence because Aegon is leaning casually against the wall outside, a cigarette dangling from his lips and that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Why’d you leave, love? I was about to ask you to join,” he said cheekily.

“Fuck off, Aegon,” she muttered quietly, trying to sidestep him and avoid further embarrassment.

But Aegon moved to block her only path back to the main area. He stood there effectively cornering her.

“Come on, don't be like that,” Aegon teased, leaning closer. “It was just a bit of fun.”

Y/N glared at him, her nerves fraying even more. “Your idea of fun is a bloody nightmare for everyone else.”

Aegon chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “Oh, you wound me, beautiful. Can’t a man enjoy a bit of company in peace?”

Y/N sighed, looking at him with exasperation. “Look, I didn’t mean to walk in on you. It was pure accident.”

Aegon shrugged it off nonchalantly. “No need for apologies. But did you at least enjoy the show?”

Y/N’s cheeks reddened, her breaths coming raggedly. “I’ve seen better,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

Aegon looked at her, unimpressed, clearly not believing her. He took the cigarette from his lips and held it to her mouth so she could take a drag. She hesitated but then took a deep pull, the smoke burning her throat, but the distraction was welcome.

“So, where’s Helaena?” he asked, taking the cigarette back.

“She was whisked away by Oscar and hasn’t been seen since,” Y/N explained, still trying to compose herself.

Aegon raised an eyebrow. “Oscar, huh? Well, that explains a lot. Guess it’s just you and me then.”

Y/N sighed, feeling the massive amount of alcohol she had consumed catching up to her. Her head was starting to pound. “Can I have some water?” she asked, her voice a bit shaky.

Aegon’s smirk softened slightly, and he nodded. “Of course, love.” He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her gently toward his private office.

The office was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a sanctuary of dark leather and polished wood. Aegon motioned for her to sit on a leather sofa as he poured a glass of water from a crystal decanter.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the glass. “Drink up.”

Y/N took the glass gratefully, drinking deeply, the cool water soothing her parched throat and clearing her head slightly. She glanced around the office, noting the various dragon-themed decorations.

“Thanks,” she said, setting the empty glass down on a nearby table.

Aegon leaned against his desk, watching her with amusement and. “Feeling better?”

“A bit,” she admitted, rubbing her temples. “This night has been... a lot.”

Aegon chuckled. “Welcome to The Draconic. It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, despite everything. “You can say that again.”

Aegon’s grin widened. “Believe it or not, this is one of the tamer nights.”

Trying to be smooth, Y/N asked, “So, where’s your… friend or companion or whatever?”

Aegon shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t know, don’t care,” he said, his grin turning slightly wicked.

Y/N bit her lip, trying hard to hide the growing wetness between her thighs as she watched him. There was something undeniably magnetic about Aegon, and despite her better judgment, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“Must be nice, having that kind of freedom,” she said, her voice a bit huskier than intended.

Aegon’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. “It has its perks,” he replied, his voice low.

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, the tension between them thickening. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Well, thanks for the water. I should probably get back to Helaena.”

Aegon pushed himself off the desk and stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Sure you don’t want to stick around a bit longer? I can be very entertaining.” he said, his voice dripping with suggestion. “Besides, Helaena is probably also occupied.”

He began to circle around her like a serpent, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/N shivered, feeling the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his proximity. The room seemed to close in around them.

Y/N breathed out quietly, her voice shaking. “I’m Helaena’s friend,” she said, more to convince herself than anyone else. “I shouldn’t be doing anything with her brother.”

Aegon put a hand under her chin, his finger tracing her lips as he whispered, “She doesn’t have to know.”

Y/N moved forward, their lips now almost touching. She could feel his breath, warm and intoxicating, mingling with hers. Her fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, feeling the softness against her skin.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, the words more for her own reassurance.

“As you say, love,” Aegon whispered back, his voice a seductive purr.

In an instant, they clashed into each other, their lips meeting in a rough, demanding kiss that felt like they were devouring each other. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in a moment of dangerous excitement. Their hands moved frantically, tugging at each other’s clothes with a desperate urgency. Y/N felt Aegon’s hands at her back, unzipping her dress, while she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, their mouths never breaking contact.

“Oh, God, Aegon,” she gasped between kisses, feeling his hands on her skin, the heat of his touch igniting something deep within her.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

The kiss deepened, becoming almost primal, as if they were trying to consume each other completely. Y/N’s dress fell to the floor, and she felt the cool air against her skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating between them. Aegon’s shirt joined her dress on the ground, followed by his belt and trousers. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath, as his fingers traced the curves of her body.

“Fuck,” Aegon muttered, his lips trailing down her neck, “you’re fit.”

Y/N gasped as his mouth moved lower, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive hunger. He kissed a path down her body, his breath hot against her skin. She shivered, feeling the intense pull of desire.

“Stop,” she managed to say, though her protest was weak. “You’re leaving marks.”

“Good,” Aegon murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I want everyone to know you’re mine tonight.”

Y/N shuddered as his mouth found her clit, his tongue teasing and sucking with expert precision. Her hands tangled in his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. Aegon was relentless, his hunger evident in every movement.

“You arrogant bastard,” she gasped, her body betraying her as pleasure surged through her.

Aegon chuckled, the sound vibrating against her most sensitive spot. “So wet, darling, all for me, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

His fingers joined the assault, thrusting inside her with a rhythm that had her seeing stars. Aegon was a god at this, his fingers curling just right while his tongue continued its relentless teasing. Y/N’s mewls turned into desperate cries, her body trembling under his assault.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you?” he murmured against her clit, his tone a mix of degradation and praise. “Such a good girl, taking everything I give you.”

Her body arched, her hips moving instinctively to meet his fingers, the intensity of his touch driving her wild. “Aegon, please,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Begging already?” he smirked, increasing the pressure of his fingers. “Look at you, falling apart just for me.”

Y/N’s vision blurred, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was so close, the sensations overwhelming her. His mouth never let up, his tongue a constant source of exquisite torture.

“Come on, love,” he urged, his voice husky with desire. “Let go for me.”

With a final, intense suck and a twist of his fingers, Y/N’s world shattered. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she squirted hard, her juices soaking Aegon’s hand and mouth.

“Shit, love,” Aegon groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her. “That’s fucking hot.”

He didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm with gentle licks and caresses. Y/N’s body trembled, her mind barely able to process the overwhelming pleasure.

As the waves of her climax slowly subsided, she collapsed back, breathless and spent. Aegon moved up, his lips brushing against hers in a possessive kiss.

“I could watch you come like that all night.”

Y/N could only nod weakly, her body still trembling, as she tried to catch her breath.

Aegon began pumping his cock, his hand moving in smooth, practiced strokes. Pre-cum was already leaking from the tip, his veins throbbing with need. He sat down and guided her to straddle him. As she settled on top of him, Y/N noticed a strategically placed mirror, reflecting their entwined bodies clearly.

Aegon’s eyes darkened with a primal hunger. “Ride me, love,” he commanded, his voice low and rough.

Y/N positioned herself over him, her hands on his shoulders for balance, and slowly lowered herself onto his throbbing cock. The sensation was intense, both of them groaning as he filled her completely. She began to move, bouncing expertly, the squelching sounds echoing in the room.

“Fuck, you ride like a slut,” Aegon taunted, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. “So wet and desperate for me.”

Her eyes caught the mirror again, watching as she rode him with wild abandon. The sight was incredibly arousing. Aegon’s fingers wrapped around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his grip tightening slightly. “You like being fucked like this.”

Y/N’s moans were half-choked, her eyes rolling back as the pressure on her throat intensified the pleasure. “Yes,” she gasped out, her voice strained. “I love it.”

Aegon’s eyes were locked on where their bodies met, watching as her cream formed a white ring at the base of his cock. “Look at that,” he said as he tuts at her. “You’re making such a mess, love.”

Y/N’s body responded to his words, her movements becoming more frantic. She was riding him hard, her nails digging into his backs, leaving marks of her own.

Aegon groaned, his grip tightening as he felt her walls clench around him. “That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that.”

“Aegon, I’m so close,” she moaned, her body trembling with the impending climax.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he commanded, his voice full of raw desire. “I want to feel you.”

With a final, desperate bounce, Y/N’s body convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her with such force that she squirted again, much to Aegon’s delight. He watched with a mixture of pride and lust as she trembled above him. His own release followed closely, exploding inside her and painting her insides with his cum.

The room reeked of sex, the intense scent of their passion filling the air. Aegon held her close, their bodies still entwined, his hands moving gently over her back as he rubbed her hair, soothing the aftermath. They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths mingling, gradually slowing down.

Y/N’s pussy was overstimulated, every slight movement sending tremors through her body. She trembled uncontrollably, her muscles twitching with the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking.

Aegon held her close, his voice a soothing whisper in her ear. “You did so well for me, darling,” he murmured, his tone filled with both admiration and tenderness.

He shifted slightly, still inside her, causing her to gasp as another wave of sensation coursed through her. “Fuck, love,” he continued, his breath hot against her ear. “How am I supposed to not crave your cunt after this?”

Y/N could only manage a weak smile, her body still recovering from the overwhelming pleasure. She leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his arms.

Aegon’s fingers continued to trace soothing patterns on her skin, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “Absolutely fucking amazing.”

They shared a tender kiss, a huge contrast to what had just transpired. Aegon’s lips were soft and gentle, offering a moment of intimacy that grounded them both.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, standing up carefully. He retrieved a warm, clean towel and returned to her side, gently cleaning the insides of her thighs. Y/N watched him fondly, her heart warming at the unexpected tenderness.

“What a gentleman,” she teased, her voice light with amusement.

Aegon winked at her. “Don’t tell anyone.”

After cleaning her up, he poured her a glass of cold water. “Drink up,” he said, handing it to her. “You need to stay hydrated.”

Y/N took the glass, sipping gratefully, still watching him with a smile. He then grabbed a spare shirt from a nearby drawer and slipped it over her head, his fingers lingering as he admired how it looked on her. The shirt was oversized, hanging loosely on her frame, but Aegon seemed to like it that way.

“Acting like a doting boyfriend now, are we?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Aegon smirked, adjusting the shirt on her shoulders. “I knew this shirt would look fantastic on you, and I was right.”

“Oh? Well, in that case, I might as well keep it then.”

Aegon chuckled. “You’ll have to earn it, love.”

She grinned, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Consider it a down payment.”

Aegon laughed, pulling her closer. “You drive a hard bargain.”

Y/N laughed along with him, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the afterglow of their encounter. “I’ll take my chances.”

Aegon grinned, leaning in to kiss her again. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Y/N kissed him deeply, their lips melding with a renewed passion. His hands found their way to her arse, gripping it firmly as he pulled her closer.

But then the door flew open, and Helaena stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. “Oh great, I’m forever traumatized,” she exclaimed, a scandalized gasp escaping her lips.

The evidence of their encounter was plain as day. The whole room reeked of sex, and there were suspicious liquid remains on the floor.

“Really? In my brother’s office?” Helaena berated, her hands on her hips.

Y/N’s face turned crimson, and she tried to hide her face in Aegon’s shoulder, mortified. Aegon, however, was laughing shamelessly.

“Oh, come on, Hel,” Aegon said. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Helaena’s eyes narrowed as she glared at both of them. “Dramatic? The room smells like a brothel, and I just walked in on my brother groping my best friend!”

“You do have impeccable timing,” Aegon managed to say between laughs.

Y/N peeked out from behind Aegon, still embarrassed. “I… I can explain?”

Helaena rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please don’t. I think the evidence speaks for itself.”

Aegon grinned, pulling Y/N closer. “Come on, Hel. You know you love us.”

Helaena shook her head, unable to suppress a smile despite her mock indignation. “You two are disgusting. Just… clean up after yourselves, will you?”

Y/N nodded vigorously, still trying to hide her face. “We will, promise.”

As Helaena left, muttering about needing eye bleach, Aegon and Y/N burst into laughter. Y/N shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I guess I’m keeping this shirt after all.”

“Damn right you are,” Aegon said with a smile. He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. “So, when are you free?”

Y/N blinked, confused. “Free for what?”

Aegon rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m taking you out on a date, woman.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “A date? After all this?”

Aegon grinned, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Course, You’ve already seen the worst of me. Now please let me try to impress you properly.”

Y/N pretended to ponder this, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, let me think about it. I mean, you did just make a mess of the place, and you have a habit of getting caught in compromising positions...”

Aegon chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Oh, come on. You know you want to. Besides, how many people can say they had their first date after walking in on said person mid-blowjob?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Alright, you’ve got a point there.”

She gave him a mock-serious look. “Okay, 5 PM next Friday, Targaryen. Don’t be late.”

Aegon pumps his fist in celebration. “I’ll be there on the dot, love. You just wait.”

“You know,” she said, looking up at him, “this has to be the strangest way I’ve ever agreed to a date.”

Aegon grinned. “Well, I’m nothing if not memorable.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “That you are.”

She took a deep breath and reluctantly stepped back from him. “I should go find Helaena and do some damage control before she decides to disown both of us.”

Aegon laughed, nodding. “Good idea. She’ll get over it… eventually.”

“Don’t be late,” she said with a playful smirk.

Aegon raised his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dare.”

With one last smile, Y/N turned and headed for the door.

[mybeingthere]

Lacey Shovels by Canadian sculptor Cal Lane (b 1968, Nova Scotia).

Cal Lane, who trained as a welder before studying art, transforms industrial steel products, like Dumpsters, oil drums, and I-beams, into improbably lacey, delicate works of sculpture. She has been compared to Richard Serra, famous for his propped, torqued, and spiraling steel sculptures. Unlike Serra, however, Lane cuts ornate patterns into the steel, opening up its surface to light and air. Through her work, she challenges gender stereotypes by combining the “masculinity” of steel and welding with the “femininity” of lace-like, decorative patterning. She also produces works with a critical edge. In Fossil Fuel (2009), for example, she cut a map of the world into an oil tank. As she explains, she is drawn to the meanings old objects carry: “They come with their own narrative, a narrative that on some level we can all connect to.”

Cal Lane is an artist who combines sturdy metal work with the delicate, fine art form of lace design. The artist says, “I like to work as a visual devil's advocate, using contradiction as a vehicle for finding my way to an empathetic image, an image of opposition that creates a balance–as well as a clash–by comparing and contrasting ideas and materials.”

[astra-ravana]

Working With Fleurety

Demon Of Ice And Hail

Other names: Fleruty, Fleuruty

Other titles: Royal Scientist of Hell

Colors: Ice blue, blue, cyan, violet, white, silver

Herbs: Oak, pine, valerian, mugwort, thyme, yarrow, chives, tarragon, lovage, sorrel, mint, sage, skullcap, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, chaga, bear berry, dandelion root, myyrh, dragon's blood

Crystals: Iceland spar (optical calcite), angelite, blie calcite, celestite, chalcedony, moonstone, pearl, opal, tanzanite, selenite, scolecite, phenacite, dumortierite, blue aragonite, apophyllite, blue lace agate, herkimer diamond

Element: Water/air (ice)

Planet: Neptune, Uranus, Pluto

Zodiac: Pisces (Aquarius)

Metal: Silver, steel, platinum

Tarot: Death, the Tower, the Hanged Man

Day: Wednesday

Animals: Polar bears, leaopard seals, snow leopards

Domains: Hail, snow storms, ice, binding magick, science, research, experimentation, necromancy, survival, combat, conflict, nighttime activity, dream work, third eye vision, illusion, glamour magick, enchantment, transformation, spiritual alchemy, mental manipulation, chronokinesis, dark nights of the soul, shadow work

Offerings: Fresh snow/hail, ice sculptures, winter blooming plants, alcohol, meat, berries, nuts, roots, blood, milk and honey, items found in nature, knives/axes/arrow heads, outdoor tools, scientific instruments, books and knowledge, moons and stars

Sigils:

[artficlly]

the horselords of naraik [chapter one]

A quiet civil war has raged across the kingdom of Garwic for nearly three decades. The cruelty of the Duke of Garwic knows no end, bringing death and misery with each raid upon the lower-class. The horselords of naraik have fought to protect those suffering under the Duke's violence. The reader being the daughter of the duke is captured and held for ransom, only things are not as they seem. The reader can only hope that the horselords recognise her as a victim rather than a villain before it is too late.

Pairing: horselord!bucky x duchess!witch!reader

Warnings: huge selfharm warning, self mutilation, suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, death, swearing, yelling, angst, tension, animal death, mention of sickness, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: i've been sitting on this draft for months now. i thought i might as well get around to posting it, super rough i was gonna go back and rework it but meh. i've written most of this fic except for the last 1/2 chapters. so i'll post the other chapters while i work on the end. i'm aiming for 25kish in total but it's already sitting at 18k soooooo i might have an writing over my goal length lol. not proof read - sorry for any typos

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

The metal of the blade had grown warm, the handle sticky against your palm. The manor house stood silent, not even the footsteps of maids and footmen to disturb you. You fantasized about moments like these, alone with just the hardwood floors, velvet curtains, exotic rugs and ornate furniture. A moment to breathe alone with the blade, feeling every groove and indentation intricately carved into the handle. Your fingers would slide across the smooth metal, memorizing every gouge and how the smooth steel narrowed to a point. It was your mothers blade, an athame. 

Your eyes lifted, dark kohl lined eyelashes fluttering as you inspected your own reflection. The mirror was the length of you, maybe taller. A symbol of luxury - sculptured and carved designs twirling around the reflection were painted gold. You despised it. You despised most things about this place, the furniture, the people, the food, the etiquette but most of all you despised your father. You hardly even considered him that. A father was supposed to be kind, caring and protective. All you had ever known was his cruelty. 

You twisted the blade in your palm once more, admiring how the steel caught the light. A part of you sang at the sight of it, craving the sharp sensation. You wanted to feel the shooting, throbbing pain that engulfed you. A feeling of desire always consumed you when watching the way your skin would split apart and scarlet blood would bloom to the surface. Those wounds would save you. Blood wasn’t something to be feared, it was powerful and potent. The essence of everything - the piece that tied you to your ancestors. It could give as easily as it could take. 

The sigil you had carved below your sternum was long healed, raised white scars twisting their way across your skin. You missed the throbbing sensation as it healed, your little secret. A piece of savagery your father had tried to beat out of you but had once again been proved unsuccessful. It brought you joy to think of all the spaces across the manor house that you had hidden sigils - carved into the floor under rugs, furniture and at the back of wardrobes - so many pieces of evidence and so many warnings that his lessons weren’t working. Having that sigil carved into your flesh, that was the best of all. Right under your father’s nose. His work, his daughter, his property - despite all of his plans - was just another Idamiran Witch. 

Your gaze remained steady, fastened on your reflection. You hardly recognised who you had become, what your father had made you. The dress you wore was made of an expensive dyed fabric, lace and embroidery layered with precise detail. The sleeves and hem were long, hiding any amount of flesh beneath. The jeweled earrings, rings and necklaces were obnoxious and expensive. It made you sick, seeing such luxury placed upon you to be paraded around. 

Your hand jerked upwards, the tip of the blade pressed against your throat. Your stare was hard, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. The flesh at your throat bent beneath the sharpened tip as the pressure increased. You could do it, end this suffering with the power of blood. Your father wouldn’t hear about your death until he returned. So many months you had suffered, ripped away from all you knew. You had tried to adjust, tried to make sense of your fate. Now you knew it was useless, now you knew why you were here and where you would go if you continued to hold on. A fate worse than death, so death you would welcome. You could end it all, one final spiteful moment to prove you were not his. If you were to die, it would be at your own hand. The blade was mere seconds away from piercing the flesh when a piercing scream echoed through the silent manor. 

As soon as it came - it was gone. A thick blanket of tension washed over the halls as the towering structure fell silent once more. A sharp exhale left your nose, hand jerking back down to your side as your skin prickled in fright. Your own heartbeat thundered loudly in your ears, the rushing of your blood partially obscuring the sound of heavy footsteps climbing the staircase. 

There was another moment of quiet, hesitation creeping through the walls. You angled your body to face the heavy wood doors, watching to see if the handle would turn. Nothing. The silence became suffocating, your feet restless with worry and so cautiously you moved towards the doors. Another scream broke the silence, your hand hesitating over the door handle. The scream is met by another, and then another. The house became full of a symphony of screaming, shouting, violent thumps and the sound of wet slicing. The sound grew distant as if deep within the bowels of the house, the top floor silent once more. 

In the unsettling quiet, you feel your gut twist in fear. You recognised the sounds of a slaughter, you had repeated it so many times in your mind. Every night you would try to sleep and hear the screams again and again. It haunted you, but as haunted and suffocating as the manor house was, this was not another dream. If the house was truly under attack, you would need to move to safety. It would not be long before the room was searched, you would need to hide. Your hand settled over the doorknob, a numbness settling over your mind as you recognised you must disconnect in order to survive. Before you can act, you jolt backwards in fright as an ear-splitting scream sounds from directly outside the door. The sounds of scuffling and grunting ensue, only growing silent as a loud thump sounds outside the door. Breath held, you listen cautiously to the sounds of shouting and banging rattle the walls, thundering steps storming back down the staircase, barking out orders to those below. 

Slick, crimson blood pools from beneath the door, staining the polished wood below. You stare at it in numb acceptance for a moment, watching as the puddle reaches the tip of your shoe. You had seen blood pools like this before during the Grawic Raids, sticky deep red liquid flowing from lifeless bodies. Whoever was on the other side of the door was not alive, you knew that to be true. 

A creeping sensation of grief begins to consume your body, a shuddering breath leaving your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed, head pressed against the cool wood door as you hear the screams continue below. Your hand trembles around your mothers athame, bile rising in your throat. Behind your eyelids all you could see was memories of the past, vast fires that consumed villages whole, bloodied screaming children clinging to the lifeless bodies of their mothers. You could see your mother, face covered with soot and ash. Run. Run! She had screamed, pressing her athame into your palm. Something between a sigh and a sob leaves your chest, steadying your hand as you twist the door handle. 

You can’t let your grief consume you, can’t let your fear paralyze you like once before. You are numb as the open door reveals the crumbled body of a maid – Sylvia had been her name. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, throat slashed open. Her maids uniform is stained crimson, her hands weakly curled around her neck like she had attempted to stop the bleeding. Another body. Another face imprinted into your mind. 

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on it long, forcing your feet to step over the body. You swallow a dry lump in your throat, creeping across the landing to one of the nearby rooms. The upstairs had grown eerily quiet, the only sounds being shouting and laughing echoing up the staircase. You squeezed the blade tighter in your palm, peeking into one of the rooms. The door had been shoved open, furniture overthrown. In front of the fireplace the firepokers had been knocked over, staining the wood floors with ash, coal and wood scattered across room. You remind yourself to keep your breathing shallow, keeping your panic to a minimum as you quickly examine the papers scattered across the floor. 

You didn’t expect these men were looking for papers or money - rather they would be looking for your father. The accents of the men sounded like they originated from southern Grawic. Perhaps from The Enghin Plains or The Valley of Empyrean. These men were angry, fuelled by revenge not greed. You didn’t dare let your mind wander to who you dreaded it might be. No, with any hope it would just be disgruntled southern farmers. 

With any hope you could hide, survive this attack. Your father would assume you were taken or killed during the attack – this could be your escape from this place. The months of contemplating death left your body like a shuddering breath as you considered your next move. 

A floorboard behind you creaked and you spun around. In the doorframe stood a slender, lean woman. Her face was pulled into a delighted sneer, red hair loose with bits of braids framing her face. You flinch backwards, noting the white and blue war paint lathered onto her exposed skin and straps of leather which held countless weapons. No, it couldn’t be, The Horde never traveled this far north. 

A soft grunt leaves your lips as she prowls forwards, striking you with her fist before you can react. You hit the floor hard, twisted onto your stomach. The pin in your hair clatters to the floors, hair unraveling down your back as you brace your palms on the hardwood floor. The redhead woman laughs, catching the attention of someone nearby. You can make out the sound of boots, planks creaking beneath the weight. 

“Take her downstairs.” A man rasps, voice deep and gutural. Your gaze files across the room, noticing a maid who is hidden beneath the bed parallel to you. Her hand is pressed over her mouth, muffling the breaths and silent sobs that escape her. You stare at the tears flowing down her cheeks, gasping as you claw and crawl away from the woman. 

Your mother’s athame had slid across the floor, slipping from your hand at the woman's blow. It is too far for you to reach in time, you can already feel the woman stalking towards you once more. Instead, you twist your body, seizing a nearby fire poker which had tumbled to the floor in front of the fireplace. It wasn't sharp, but it would do to fend off your attacker. 

Spinning yourself around, you strike the metal fire poker across the woman’s face. She grunts in pain, stumbling backwards into the chest of the male. He chuckles in surprise, his short blond beard flecked with blood and braided with bits of bone. You scramble to your feet, stumbling over your long skirts as the man slides his axe into its holster. 

“She got you good, Nat.” He says to the redhead woman, voice deep and thick. Her amused sneer had turned into a look of rage, cradling a bleeding cheek where the skin split at your blow. You raise the fire poker at the blond man defiantly, arching an eyebrow as he chuckles at you once again. “Fine. I’ll take you downstairs.” 

He is twice the size of you, a hulking mass of muscle, paint and scars. His blue eyes survey you with a look of amusement, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. Your intended strike doesn’t land, his large palms catching the tip of the fire poker and easily twisting it from your grip. A yelp leaves your lips as he snatches you by your waist, hauling you over his shoulder with little strain. Your palms brace against his muscled shoulders, trying to push yourself from his grip as you kick and struggle wildly. Across the room, the maid under the bed decides to dash from the room while the two attackers are distracted. 

The blond man is moving quickly, strides long as he quickly carries you from the room. The last thing you see is your mothers athame discarded on the floor, alongside the ash and scattered paper. Blood sprays across the yellowing papers as the redhead woman throws an axe into the back of the retreating maid. You don’t see the maid connect with the floor, instead only hearing the deranged screaming and wet thumping as the redhead woman butchers the wailing maid in a fit of rage. 

Your struggling stills, a sense of nausea consuming your body as the man descends the stairs. Maid’s and footmen’s bodies line the staircase and halls, blood making the hardwood floors shiny and slick. You can’t find the words to speak or to protest what is happening. Instead, you find yourself trying not to slip back into memories. The smoke, the screams, the sticky blood across your skin. Behind you the redhead woman is descending the stairs, scraping her bloody axe along the railing of the staircase.

The front doors to the manor had been thrown open, the butler brutalized in a pool of blood. The foyer is filled with shouting and laughter, reality only snapping into place as pain bites your skin. The blonde man dumps you onto the floor, teeth clattering together as you slam into the hardwood. You scramble to your knees, cautiously watching as large, hulking, muscled men and women circle you like vultures. You recognise the paint that decorates them, the bits of bone and colorful beads that are woven hair and beards. Beyond the doors, a herd of saddled horses stand in the garden having trampled the flowers and bushes. 

You had seen these people before, only at a distance or in the height of battle. Like many people of Grawic, they despised your father for his poor leadership and tendency to default to violence. During the Grawic Raids, these people had provided aid to many villages victim to the cruelty. They had supplied men, weapons and food. Although many whispered of their presence in fear, it was clear that The Horselords of Naraik were a good people, until you were on the other side of their wrath. The Horde may have smiled kindly on you in Idamir, but in these decorated luxury silks and encrusted with jewels? They would despise you. 

“Found this one upstairs, Buck. Gave Nat a good blow.” The blond man calls out, standing close as you survey the gathering crowd. Your hair, now loose, spills around your waist. You use the strands to partially obscure your face, your gaze darting as you access your options. There was no use in running or fighting back – you would be dead in seconds. 

“Let me kill her Bucky, I’m sure she would squeal.” Nat hisses from nearby, you shudder as you feel her creep closer. Her axe is in hand, dripping with blood and chunks of flesh. You dip your eyes before you can see her face, holding your tongue between your teeth to stop yourself from sobbing. Another face for the dreams that plagued you – the young maid pressed beneath the bed, silent tears streaming down her face. 

“Who is this?” A new voice grunts, the foyer falling quiet. The air in the room shifted, the speaker commanding a sense of respect and power. You dare to let your eyes flutter upwards, clenching your jaw to stop any emotions leaking forth. 

The commanding man steps forward, the crowd parting to let him through. Tall and muscular as the blond man, he stands shirtless. His exposed nature allows you to see the muscles that ripple beneath, scars flecked across his sun kissed skin. One large, raised scar dominates them all, curving around his left shoulder and arm. He is decorated with the same lathered blue and white paint, an axe holstered at his hip and a curved sword in hand. His chest, neck and face are speckled with blood, dark stubble lining his defined jaw. His hair a dark brunet, dusting above his shoulders. Although it is pushed back, only a few strands falling into his face, you can see the bits of bone and colorful beads braided within. His azure eyes bore into you with interest, kohl lazily smudged around the socket in a messy contrast to your own kohl which was delicately lined. 

He prowls forward slowly, assessing you with a predator's gaze. “The duke's wife is dead, and I have heard of no replacement. I would say a governess, but I know his son is fully grown. You’re not a maid, you are dressed like nobility. Who are you? An unfortunate visitor? A mistress?” 

You hold his gaze, nails digging into your palm. Even if mere hours ago you had been contemplating slitting your own throat, you were afraid. The deaths the horselords had delivered upon the maids and footmen were a mercy – quick and brutal. You had heard stories of the ways these men tortured the nobility they captured. They despised the upper class for all they had done – consuming all the food and wealth while the lower class starved and suffered. They despised your father for not acknowledging the thousands that endured famine and plague, instead killing any who protested or fought back. 

“She was carrying this when I found her.” Nat says breaking the tense silence, handing your mothers blade to the brunet man. He eyes the blade with a tilt of his head, callused fingers running down the smooth metal. 

“It’s Idamiran make,” Bucky hums, eyes lifting as he points the blade at you. “You’re the Dukes illegitimate daughter.” 

You remain silent, nails digging deeper into your palm. You use the pain to ground yourself and steady your breath as the horselords circle tighter. Your eyes flick between the crowd, a fixed gaze observing the sneers, flashes of metal and splatters of blood. They did not know the full story – no one did. No one even knew you were the daughter of the Duke until he came to claim you. You would receive no pity, no kindness. If anything, the horselords would despise you more, a simple Idamiran girl turned Duchess. They would never imagine how you might have suffered, the way you would imagine turning the blade in against your own skin. They would only see you as another whore, ready to sell herself for wealth and glory without a care for the other lower class citizens of Grawic. 

“Tell me, is your mother hiding in the house as well?” Bucky asks, waving your mothers blade in the direction of the stairs. He seems annoyed that you are silent, accepting of your situation rather than wailing for mercy. You supposed the horselords liked it when the nobility begged, only to watch the life drain from their eyes. 

“No. She died in the Grawic Raids.” You speak for the first time, your accent nearly as thick as theirs. You both originated from the southern lands of Grawic – though your accent hailed from the west - rather than the eastern Plains of Naraik. Your father had tried hard to lash out any rolled ‘r’s, rid you of your throaty and guttural pronunciations.

“And so you came crawling to the Duke to claim your inheritance?” Bucky says with a sneer, creeping closer. You lift your chin defiantly, strands of hair finally moving to reveal your face fully. 

“I did not willingly come here, if that is what you are implying.” You reply curtly, eyes narrowing at the towering brunet. The horde bristles, a murmuring capturing the room. Bucky doesn’t seem to believe your words, brows lowering into a scowl. 

“You seem quite comfortable and willing, wearing their silks and jewels.” He observes, gesturing to the expensive fabric which pools around your legs where you kneel. You press your palms onto your thighs, watching how the crowd grows conflicted. Maybe if you were younger, more naive, you could have believed maybe these horselords could have helped you. They had saved Idamir once before, but you knew they would never believe you. Even if you were Idamiran, born and raised in the small village, you were still of your fathers blood. They would kill you just for that. Your blood, so potent and powerful, was also your curse. 

“You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t understand.” You finally utter after a long pause. Bucky chuckles, lips curling into a sneer once again. The rest of the horde chuckles alongside him, restlessly shifting their weight, looking between each other with heartless smirks. Bucky slides the athame into his belt, knuckles growing white around the tilt of his sword. There was no winning this situation, it was easier to offer no further information and let death claim you. You could only hope they would make it quick. 

“You even speak like them.” Bucky snarls, which is met with agreement from the horde. He points the tip of his sword in your direction. “Tell me, where are your father and brother?”

“They are away on a hunting trip.” You are slow to reply, tongue feeling thick in your mouth. You are unsure of how to interpret Bucky’s next moves as he places the sword under your chin. You resist the urge to close your eyes, to let memories over your mothers face and touch consume you as the cold metal pressed into your skin. It wasn’t supposed to end like this – you were supposed to die by the athame. One final ritual – one final insult to your father. 

“And when do they return?” He asks, voice low. You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as the tip of the blade traces down your throat. 

“Not until the end of the month.” 

“Pity. And what a shame that they left you unguarded like this.” The tip of the sword dips to your chest, pulling tight one of the lacing strings that lay in line across your cleavage. Your chest heaves with a sharp intake of breath, heels of your palms digging deeper into the tops of your thighs. His eyes are dark, pupils blown as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.  

“Tell me, is it true that your mother is a witch? That she put a love spell on your father to gain riches and nobility?” He asks, blade pulling down each strand of lacing down the front of your dress, until it finally stills over your stomach. You hold your breath, silent. 

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, they listen.” You utter, eyes flashing in warning.

Bucky chuckled darkly, running his tongue over his teeth as he looked at the blond man. Whatever spell you had held over him was finally broken. He pulled the sword away, a sharp exhale leaving your lips as you nearly slump over as some of the tension leaves your body. Bucky doesn’t offer you a second glance, instead barking out orders. 

“Tie her up. We will hold her for ransom. Maybe that will finally get the Duke's attention.” 

xxx

The rest of the day had been spent on horseback, wedged between the pommel of the saddle and the hulking body of your captor. The Horde were nomads, never staying in one place longer than a few days. They traveled with the seasons, sticking to the rivers and lakes during the warmer months and further south into the plains during the colder months. This party was a smaller one, meaning the men and women who traveled this far north were a part of a hunting and raiding party. Although their camp was large you knew an even larger camp lay in the Plains of Naraik awaiting their return. 

You had clasped your bound hands around the horn of the saddle, steadying yourself with each sway of the horse's stride. Bucky had one hand lazily splayed over your waist to hold you in place, hardly paying attention to you as he continued to direct orders and laugh with the blond man. It hadn’t taken long for you to decode the dynamic of the horde – Bucky being the leader and the blond his second. The blond – who was oddly familiar – was named Steve. Through the ride you and Steve had exchanged uncomfortable glances, like you were both trying to place the recognition. Ever since your father had taken you, you had been isolated in the manor until you could be made into an acceptable lady for society. If you recognised Steve from anywhere, it would have been from Idamir. The Grawic Raids had spanned nearly three decades - the horselords involvement nearly two. You could have met Steve or any of the horde in the past without realizing you would meet again under such circumstances. 

You had been silent the entire ride, and continued to stay voiceless once the herd eventually returned to the small encampment. The camp was as you imagined, a collection of colorfully dyed tents which bustled in the wind. Horses grazed nearby, manes and tails braided with painted symbols lathered into their coats. Despite it being a raiding party, many women and children roamed around, greeting the returning riders. At the center of the camp stood a large campfire, women using it to cook food and boil water from the nearby river. Near the edge of the encampment stood a small blacksmith tent which had been constructed around a sturdy sledge which held the forge. The forge reminded you of Idamir, glowing embers and steam. Idamir was known for its blacksmithery as equally as its witch healers. 

The women eye you with a cautious interest, noting your expensive clothing and bound hands. They rightfully keep their distance, instead congratulating the warriors on their kills. You allow your eyes to wander, committing the scene before you to memory. The camp had no walls, instead guards posted at lookout fires further out. There was a small forest to one side, centered around the side of the river. In order to escape you would either have to bypass the lookouts through the grazing horses, or attempt to cross the rapidly flowing river. Both options also weighed on the likelihood of you escaping your binds and reaching the outskirts of the camp. You felt defeated and exhausted from the day's events - these recent months had made you a pessimist. Nat who sat on her mare nearby watches your wandering gaze, lip pulled into a snarl. 

“You should have blindfolded her, they say witches can enchant you with just their eyes.” She says to Bucky, gesturing to you. Bucky gives her a long look, grunting as he dismounts his stallion. 

“You really think she is a witch?” He asks the redhead with a chuckle, hands gripping your waist as he roughly hoists you from the saddle. You manage to catch yourself before your legs buckle, a part of your dignity left intact. It had been months since you had ridden, your muscles aching and sore from the long trek. 

“Well, if she is anything like her whore mother… I would want to be safe.” Nat replies, an amused smirk stretching across her lips as you glare at her. She leans forward in the saddle, spitting a glob of saliva at your feet in insult. Bucky is quiet, fingers finding your chin as he forces you to look at him. 

“I don’t think she is. She is too little… and weak.” He muses examining your eyes, Nat barks out a laugh in response. Your gaze dart between the two of them, Nat giving you one last sneer before she guides her chestnut mare away. You watch her leave, listening as Bucky commands a nearby warrior to retrieve a length of rope. 

“You are so quiet, do you never speak? Not a single word the entire ride – usually the nobles scream and cry for their lives.” Bucky asks, you take a step backwards. Your back is flush against his stallions flank, the horse as still and calm as Bucky corners you. “Do you think yourself better than everyone?” 

You consider staying silent and biting your tongue in protest. Instead you exhale sharply, holding his piercing gaze. “I am not afraid of death.” 

His stare darkens, only breaking as he nods a silent thank you to the warrior who retrieved the rope. He winds the rope between his palm and fingers, it reminded you of the way your father would weave the end of his whip through his palm. Bucky tilts his head as he examines you with a predatory gleam. “Then I will make you afraid.”

xxx

Your mothers face was smeared with ash, blood pouring from her temple. Around her, the village burned. Women and children screamed, retreating to the river where they were slaughtered by Grawic soldiers on horseback. In the distance, a crack of a whip pierced through the mayhem.

‘You must run, you must hide! He is coming for you, he will take you. I know it. I know it to be true!’

The blade was cool in your palm, the sounds of horselord’s battle cries echoing throughout the carnage. Warriors with swords and axes weaving through the bodies and burning piles, blood splattered across their bare chests, bloodlust dizzying their vision. 

‘But how can you know Mother? How can you know he will find me?’

You cried to her, reaching out for her warm embrace. Further behind her, a blond man sat astride a white stallion among the smoke and flames. The stallion's coat was stained red with blood, the man’s chest heaving as he held his axe in an unshaking fist. 

‘I have seen it. I had a vision. You must run. Run. Run!’

Run!

You jolt awake, chest and stomach straining against the rope tied tightly around you. It was early in the morning, the sun had not yet risen. A chill has set in overnight, a layer of dew developing over your clothes and skin. Your neck and back stiff from your sleeping position - tied directly against the trunk of a tree. Your hair damp and tangled, bits of bark and moss having fallen onto you during your sleep. 

Eyes adjusted to the darkness, you cast your gaze upwards to the stars. The sky was clear, allowing you to see each twinkling light in detail. The Idamiran people used the stars to track the change of season, using it as a guide for sowing crops and calling in livestock from the wilds. Your mother had taught you how to navigate with the stars, every night since your capture by the horde you had tracked your journey south east with the stars. 

“You talk more in your sleep than when you are awake.” Steve grumbles from nearby. He sat hunched over the fire, whittling a piece of wood with his knife. 

The past few nights you had always been left with a rotating selection of guards to watch you. During the day you would ride with Bucky, at night you would be left to sleep while tied to a post or tree. Steve had quickly become your favorite guard, he was quiet and paid little attention to you. Nat was the worst, mocking and sneering at you for hours while you glared. Many turned a blind eye when she struck or kicked you - you hadn’t been able to change your clothes since your capture but you knew there would be bruises along your skin. 

“I cannot help it.” You reply quietly, shuffling in place as you leant your head back against the trunk with a sigh. 

“What do you dream of?” He asks, back still facing you. He doesn’t even spare a glance, instead engrossed in his small carving. 

“Death. Faces of the dead. Visions of the past.” 

He muses on your words for a second, before casting a side-long glance at you over his burly shoulder. His eyes are dark without the glow of the fire, just peeking over the furs that he had wrapped over his shoulders. “I remember you from the raids. I don’t know why I did not place how I recognised you before.”

You had placed it together too, but hadn’t spoken a word of it. That night, when your mother had told you to run, you hadn’t. You had found her body, skewered upon a spear in the center of the village. You had screamed and sobbed next to her body, only releasing her when Steve had scooped you up. He had forced you onto his horse, dragging you away from your mother as he told you to be quiet. Soldiers of Grawic still crawled, executing anyone left alive. The two of you had weaved through bodies and burning buildings, the menacing sound of the whip looming closer and closer.

The two of you hadn’t made it far, his stallion downed by an arrow to the chest. You still remembered the animals' pained screams, the way Steve had muttered a prayer as he slit the creature's throat to end its suffering. He had tried to save you, drag you to safety. Your father had been too quick - recognising you for your looks. A near replica of your mother. He hadn’t been looking for you, rather described it as a blessing in disguise that he had run into you. Your mother’s visions had come true, despite her efforts to stop the wheel of fate. That night the whipping sounds you had heard finally had a face. Your father had stood there, a cruel smile etched into his face. Blood had dripped from the barbed tip of his whip, leaving you wondering how many had suffered at his hand. Steve had escaped with his life, fought off by the force of Grawic soldiers. You however, had been captured and taken to the manor. 

“It does not matter now. It is the past.” You say dismissively, staring into the distant camp as some of the women and men began to rise. The horses needed to be readied early in the morning, or else the horde would not be able to travel a sufficient amount of land throughout the day. 

“I believe that you are telling the truth, about how you were taken against your will. It does not mean that I will stop Bucky from killing you.” Steve says, you bite down on your tongue as you cast him an annoyed look.

“I wish he would get it over with, I am sick of sleeping tied to a tree.” 

Steve shakes his head with a slight chuckle, breaking the serious scowl he usually held. “We are awaiting news from your father over the ransom demands.” 

It would take weeks, if not months to hear back from your father. The ransom note would not reach him until the end of the month when he returned from his hunting trip. The lands of Grawic were long to traverse, taking weeks at a time to reach the northern point to the southern. It could be months from now before the ransom was finally settled, or if not until you met the release of death. 

Across the camp, you watched as the camp began bustling once more, the sun breaking the horizon finally. You let out a soft groan as the sun hits your skin, allowing the warmth to soak into your stiff joints. The people of the horde barely spared you a glance as they worked saddling the horses and putting out fires. Nearby, the blacksmith was working on dismantling his tent. You stared at the back of his head hard, recognising the dark brown locks and shorter frame.

“Peter?” You call out before you can think better of it. Steve twisted where he sat and looked between you and the blacksmith in confusion. Peter turned around, a confused look dominating his features as he looked for the source of your voice. As he stepped closer, abandoning the tent pole he had been holding, his confused look melted into one of surprise. 

A genuine smile crossed his boyish features, brown eyes softening as he closed the distance between the two of you. As your name slipped past his lips in a surprised gasp, a momentary cautious glance was sent in Steve’s direction as Peter kneeled next to you. Steve grunted in a mixture of acceptance and annoyance, holstering the knife he held. 

“I’m sorry - when they said they had captured the duchess I didn’t think they meant you!” He expressed, worried eyes searching the length of rope binding you to the tree. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, leaning forward in your restraints. 

“After that final raid, I knew I had to get my aunt to a safer place. The horselords offered me protection if I worked as a blacksmith for them.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Peter was close to your age, a couple years younger than yourself. You had both grown up in Idamir, Peter apprenticing as a blacksmith while you helped your mother with her work. 

“How is your Aunt? Is she still unwell?” You question, observing his clothes. He didn’t dress like the horselords, instead clothed in a loose cotton shirt and pants. He didn’t decorate his face with kohl, paint or braid his hair. You imagined his leather apron and belt would be stored safely away with his forge while traveling.

Peter’s face fell into a frown, a sigh escaping his lips as you tilt your head with a look of worry. “She still has the cough, it worsened after your mother… I was sorry to hear about what happened to her. She was always kind to me.”

Steve eyed the interaction from his post, body now fully turned to observe you both. “Thank you… I… it means a lot. Have the healers here been able to help May?”  

“They’ve tried, but it hasn't been as successful as your mother’s remedies. It’s worsened due to all of the travel I think, these last few days she’s developed a fever that will not break.”

“I can help her. I mean, I can try if you bring me herbs.” You say, leaning closer. 

“You would do that? Are you allowed to do that?” Peter asked, glancing at Steve who answered with a shrug. 

“As long as she remains tied to that tree, I don’t see why not.” Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder at the camp. “Be quick, we ride within the hour.”

CHAPTER TWO

[order-of-the-black-crescent-moon]

Offerings for Lady Xiaris

Not sure what offering to give to her? Here’s a quick list!

- Blueberries or any sort of dark fruit, no vegetables with the exception of the occasional lettuce.

- Cranberry juice (or any dark coloured juice)

- Charcoal (must be grinded into fine powder first)

- Incense of any kind

- Dark colored rocks

- Moonstone

- Fallen leaves

- Blue or white flowers (or depending on what you need from her or what you want to tell her, you can select flowers based on their meaning and correspondences)

- Handmade objects (artwork, handmade Orb Laces, handmade charms, sculptures, etc)

- Any small knick knacks that carry some form of energy (could be small metal found on the ground, a coin, an old object that is not needed or used, anything but cheap plastic, it’s okay if it’s partially plastic)

- Iron, steel, silver, or any whiteish silver ish metal like aluminum. Avoid any gold colored metals like brass, or gold, especially fools gold (Pyrite). You may only offer gold as a thanks if she assisted you when you needed it.

- Old fabric, particularly if it’s over a decade old and the color has worn down. Make sure it’s washed before offering.

- Old and unused keys. Keys can be of any material but plastic. Avoid gold or gold colored keys if possible.

- Songs and hymns

- A paper note carrying a message of what you want to tell her for the day (specifically for broom closet followers but anyone is free to use this method is necessary)

- Digital offerings like digital artwork, collages, moodboards, stimboards, etc (avoid using any gold or yellow hues, stick to blue, black, white or a dark purple)

- Piece of hair (must have fallen off of your head naturally)

This list will be updated over time

[mingyannews]

Crafting Brilliance: Unveiling the Artistry of Laser Cutting

In the enchanting world of crafting, where innovation meets precision, one technology has emerged as a true marvel: laser cutting. Join me on this journey through the mesmerizing realm of laser-cut creations, where artistry and technology converge in dazzling harmony.

The Dance of Laser and Material

Imagine a dance where a laser beam gracefully waltzes across various materials, from delicate paper to robust metals. This captivating choreography, known as laser cutting, is a testament to human ingenuity. It harnesses the power of concentrated light to carve, etch, or engrave materials with unrivaled accuracy. The result? A masterpiece crafted with laser-sharp precision.

Versatility Unveiled

Laser cutting is a virtuoso when it comes to versatility. It serenades a wide array of materials, each with its unique charm. From the elegant finesse of acrylic to the industrial strength of steel, there are no boundaries to what laser cutting can achieve. This versatility opens doors to an endless array of creative possibilities.

Where Imagination Takes Flight

The applications of laser cutting are as diverse as the colors of a painter's palette. Here are just a few strokes from this canvas:

Intricate Artwork: Artists wield laser cutting to create intricate sculptures and artwork that boggle the mind.

Personalized Gifts: Craftsmen turn to laser cutting to personalize gifts, infusing them with a unique touch.

Architectural Wonders: Architects employ laser-cut models to breathe life into their visions, revealing every nook and cranny in intricate detail.

Fashion Forward: Designers use laser cutting to craft garments with intricate lace-like patterns, setting trends on runways worldwide.

Model Making: Hobbyists and enthusiasts fashion model planes, cars, and miniature landscapes with stunning precision.

Eco-Conscious Creativity

In this era of eco-consciousness, laser cutting emerges as a sustainable choice. It produces minimal waste, thanks to its non-contact process, preserving materials and reducing environmental impact.

The Future Awaits

As technology hurtles forward, the future of laser cutting shines even brighter. Innovations like faster speeds, more materials, and expanded capabilities promise to make this craft even more mesmerizing.

In conclusion, laser cutting is a harmonious blend of science and artistry. It unveils the limitless potential of human creativity and craftsmanship. Whether you're a passionate artist, a visionary designer, or simply an admirer of beauty in its purest form, the world of laser cutting welcomes all to witness and participate in its radiant symphony of creation.

[yngai]

RESIDENT EVIL 4 REMAKE  «  𝘈𝘊𝘊𝘌𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 .

the champagne swirls absent mindedly in her glass, a whirlpool of empty thoughts & distant emotions that play well with her professional detachment . an easy feat when your heart is not in the assignment, draped in the crystalline blues of a lace halter gown that wraps around her neck, the slit going only to her knee . there is no need to show skin, just enough, & the soulless, muted color that can scarcely compare itself to her favored crimsons makes ada wong just another among an attending crowd . a woman hidden in plain sight, a better chameleon than the man whose presence corrodes at her exposed shoulders, though far less lizard-like . albert wesker is a sculpture surrounded by the ignorant masses, unaware they are witnessing the height of performance art . he isn't chiseled from marble, no, she likens him to some poor soul covered in silver paint, drawing the eyes of bystanders with a hat at his feet, awaiting their cash & applause .

a high society event in prague's dominican hotel that was sure to pull from the most rotten of the czech republic's elite .

networking truly was the worst aspect of this career & with the types in attendance, with wesker in her vicinity & no weapons on her person, she is on her third drink & feeling no effect, losing focus, care or consideration . maybe that's why he decided to join, watch her slowly deflate, trapped where she doesn't belong . ada downs what little remains & there is barely any alcohol burning against her throat, the fruity notes make her think these people are more so children, with no strife to overcome & enough money to live out all their fantasies, all in on a game of play-pretend . the glass is set by the table next to her purse, her right arm reaching within, procuring her compact & opening its secret compartment with a satisfying click . the mirror is what catches her eye, she notes the visible exhaustion on her features, & then, angling it to catch a glimpse of wesker, the absence of emotion on his own . if she had birkin's cocktail coursing through her veins, maybe she wouldn't need to dab her middle finger on the designer cocaine that she smuggled in with her makeup . spreading it along her gums without care for who might look, to anyone far away it would seem like a woman touching up her foundation, & as she finishes massaging it into the left side of her mouth, wesker finally speaks .

@tyrantype : ❝ you look like you’ve got something to say. ❞

her upper body turns, hunched over slightly to cover her face with her compact, her finger still ballooning her cheek . there is an ever so brief, distorted, “ ⸺huh ? ” like she didn't expect to be caught in the act, like she thought he had learned to ignore her almost perfectly, her habits, her persona, her indifference . she straightens herself, taking her hand out of her mouth & brushing the stained, wet tip of her finger with her thumb . ada swallows before she continues, letting the rush of euphoria steel her thoughts, make her alive, delude her into an equal footing,

“ all night long i was wondering why you're here . like some kind of particularly intrusive headmaster, could've handled it all on my own . i know the kinds of men the organization loves to court . ”

[xinyigami]

Giant Women: Simone Leigh

Two sphinxes guard SIMONE LEIGH, on view at Matthew Marks Gallery through December 21, 2024. A nod to Kara Walker’s A Subtlety, or, Marvelous Sugar Baby, the sculptures are sugar-white with hand-spun lace patterns embellished into the ceramic surface. The sphinxes take on the coquettish qualities of the felines they are modeled after; they engage in a silent conversation that pointedly avoids acknowledging observers. I get shooed away for inspecting the lace appliqué too closely by a glamorous gallery attendant, dressed in all black and hopping nervously from foot to foot like a bird. Don’t get too close. The sculptures demand space, implying greater forms at work. 

The statues are larger-than-life, memorializing the meticulous handicrafts and unsung labor of black women. Leigh interprets the black female body, building busts and torsos out of ceramic and creating full skirts out of raffia, braided ceramic, lace, and cowrie shells. The torsos are often headless; even sculptures such as the sphinxes that retain their faces have indistinct features. Any identifiable features are wiped away with a gesture of the hand, while the clay is still wet and moldable. Although Leigh depicts their bodies and crafts, she seems uninterested in giving any sort of recognizable face to the bodies. The facelessness seems to indicate that her work speaks to an experience larger than any single woman but to that of the greater community. Made of the earth, of bronze, and of steel, these giant women stand tall over gallery-goers. I've seen works by Leigh that are emotional, but this show lacks that. Something about the space and the scale, SIMONE LEIGH in person feels like stepping into a defensive armory Leigh has built. Alienated from us creatures of flesh and standing apart from each other, the women are somber yet stoic. Leigh's sculptures stand tall and untouchable-- what brought Leigh here from her origins in the communal studio?

“Artemis” stands resplendent in her wedding gown. Her hands hover just under her breasts, almost cupping them. The entire figure is plastered with lace appliqués. The lace was likely applied to the base form, which is made of white stoneware. Then a thin layer of liquid porcelain slip would have been applied over the lace, preserving its form. The lace itself would have burned off in the kiln where the sculpture was fired, leaving just the impression through the clay. Unlike the sphinxes, where the lace lays flat, the glaze leaves “Artemis” indelicate and clunky, with clumps and drips where the clay and the glaze cling to each other. The rest of the skirt is made up of pert, breast-like forms. There’s a slightly grotesque quality to the piece, giving the impression that “Artemis’” features and ceramic skin are melting off. 

The torso of "Monster" is covered by thousands of blue ceramic rosettes, painstakingly attached to the ceramic form. She is transformed into something akin to beastly. The petals are almost paper-thin; how did the fabricators transport the form without crushing the buds, especially during the fragile greenware stage before the statue was fired the first time? Once bisque-d and fired, the rosettes form an elegant defense— hard, sharp stoneware that draws the eye but dismays the hand. These monsters are in fact, untouchable.

Perhaps even more than the pieces themselves, the gallery setting discourages the hand. Typical of the upscale Chelsea galleries, there’s a great distance between each piece. The brutalist gallery creates a disjointed effect in combination with the natural forms of the bodies, the curve of the cowrie shells, and the organic textures of the raffia. In contrast, the setting feels harder and harsher than the work, the bright, white walls, right angles, and concrete-wash floors feel dizzying. Ever-vigilant gallery attendees maintain a perimeter around each piece, to ensure the work remains pristine. 

Yet in the ceramics studio, touch is everything. Leigh’s primary medium, ceramics, like many crafts, is a tactile and community-based practice. Hands on wet clay, hands on the wheel, feeling the movement of the pieces, feeling the glazed surface. Creating work out of clay, especially large-scale work such as Leigh’s, requires heavy infrastructure and often a small team. Her own sculptures are manufactured by a team of fabricators. I find this transition, from ceramics studio to white-wall gallery, jarring. In the studio, the artist’s hand is paramount; in the gallery, it shrinks back. The sculptures in Matthew Marks are disengaged with the community; they are touch-starved. 

I caught up with Tyler Green hand-building in their studio; they are part of Leigh’s fabrication team. Tyler laughs at my questions about Leigh and supplies that Leigh still tells stories about the early days of ceramics-as-fine-arts, fighting for representation, and running her sculptures through the streets of New York on foot, just to get her shows installed on time. It’s true that despite the current surge in sculptural ceramics, the acknowledgment of ceramics as fine art and not “merely” craft has been a long time coming. Leigh’s work retains a technical value that calls to its origins in craft. Guarded by gallery attendants and boxed in by the white walls, however, it seems that a communal aspect of craft has been superseded by institutional recognition. 

Demand has outstripped Leigh’s ability to produce all of her work herself. Leigh, it seems, has long since stepped back from being the primary voice in the studio. Everything goes through the studio manager, “if she comes in to build, it is when no one else is around,” Tyler tells me. Perhaps this is why Leigh’s work feels so somber, so guarded. Leigh’s come-up was an uphill battle as a Black woman against the institution. Her work seems to memorialize that feeling of alienation and disjointedness. Her sculptures still carry an air of caution despite her acceptance into the ranks of the art world. She still seeks to represent Black women and the under-recognized skill of their labor. Leigh does so at a distance.

Simone Leigh’s work carries the weight of her experiences with the art world. Her sculptures monumentalize the craft origins of her work and the giant women that shape the fields of craft. Brought into the gallery space, it calls into question the dissonance of the white walls and what we choose to elevate. The scale of Leigh’s sculptural work and its quietude leaves me awestruck. I am searching for the touch of her hand, but something about her work seems to push me away.

[sheltiechicago]

The Superb 3D Wired Sculptures by Nicolas Desbons

Desbons is mostly a steel artist who creates complicated abstract sculptures that are influenced by the human form and resemble patterns that are similar to mosaics and lace. This assemblage of steel, which was put together in a delicate manner, contributes a lightness to a material that would otherwise be heavy, so producing a tension that is distinctive to the work.

[highlinetreecare]

Arborists of Portland: Enchanting Urban Forests and the Magic They Weave

In the heart of Portland, where the air is laced with the freshness of the Pacific and the streets are lined with an eclectic array of foliage, a unique guild of city stewards—the Arborists in Portland—practice their age-old yet often overlooked craft. These are Portland's "Tree Magicians," guardians of urban nature, who not only maintain the city's vast green canopy but also ensure that Portland remains a living, breathing fairytale forest.

Enchanters of the Emerald City

Imagine a city where each tree tells a story, each leaf sings a melody, and the Arborists in Portland are the conductors of this natural orchestra. Arborists in Portland do more than trim branches and diagnose pests; they weave magic into the very roots of the city, turning urban landscapes into enchanted forests that captivate the hearts of all who wander through them.

These stewards of nature work with tools that might as well be wands as they artfully balance the ecosystem within the city’s bustling life. They ensure that ancient giants and youthful saplings alike thrive amid concrete and steel, crafting a green tapestry that cloaks the urban environment.

The Whispering Woods of the West

Arboriculture in Portland is a whispered dialogue between humans and trees. Each morning, as the mist rolls in from the Willamette River, the Arborists in Portland listen to a crack in a branch here, a wilt in a leaf there. Their trained ears pick up the subtle cries of trees under stress, and their hands work gently to soothe them. This daily communion between Arborists in Portland and nature is a dance of healing and growth, ensuring that each tree’s potential is fully realised.

These urban whisperers also serve as the city's memory keepers, preserving the history etched into the rings of Portland’s oldest trees. They tell tales of decades past, of transformations from Indigenous lands to urban centres, narrating a story only the trees themselves could know.

Cultivating Curiosity and Community

Beyond their ecological duties, Arborists in Portland are educators and community builders. They host "tree walks" and workshops, inviting locals to step into the shoes of an arborist for a day—to climb, to feel, to heal. Through these experiences, residents connect deeply with their green neighbours, fostering a bond that transforms community spaces into sanctuaries of shared stewardship.

The Arborists in Portland are also pioneers in planting "Story Groves," where each tree is accompanied by a plaque telling its species’ story, its role in the ecosystem, or a local myth. These groves become interactive, living libraries where knowledge grows as freely as the foliage.

Guardians in the Gale

When storms lash out, and the city bends under the tempest’s roar, Arborists in Portland are the calm in the storm. With precision and care, they navigate the aftermath, salvaging what they can and healing what has been hurt. Their rapid response keeps the city safe and functional, demonstrating that their magic is not only in growth but in resilience and recovery.

Grove of Whispers: The Storytelling Trees

In hidden groves across Portland, arborists are curating a collection of storytelling trees known as the “Grove of Whispers.” Each tree in these groves is equipped with discreet speakers that play recorded narratives, poems, and historical anecdotes relevant to their species or location when someone approaches. These groves are mapped out in a secret guidebook available only at local independent bookstores, enticing residents and visitors alike to embark on a quest to find and listen to these storytelling sentinels of Portland’s past and present.

Arboreal Gallery: Tree Trunk Sculptures

Imagine walking through Portland’s streets and parks only to discover that certain trees have become canvases for exquisite sculptures carved directly into their trunks by skilled wood artists working alongside Arborists in Portland. This “Arboreal Gallery” project not only showcases the natural beauty and artistic potential of tree trunks but also tells the ecological story of each tree through symbolic imagery and motifs, carefully chosen to reflect the tree’s role in the urban ecosystem without harming its health.

Temporal Arboretum: Virtual Reality Tree Time Gates

Arborists in Portland have crafted the "Temporal Arboretum," a cutting-edge virtual reality (VR) experience that turns historical tree data into a time-traveling adventure. Each participating tree in Portland’s parks is equipped with a VR station, where visitors don a headset and are instantly transported through the tree's life span.

As they 'travel,' they witness the tree's growth from sapling to the ancient guardian, alongside key historical Portland events it has survived, such as volcanic eruptions, colonial expansions, and the urbanisation wave. The experience is enriched with interactive elements where users can trigger mini-documentaries about specific events or environmental changes narrated by the arborists themselves, blending deep historical insight with ecological education.

Arborist's Almanac: An Interactive Ecosensory Pod

Imagine stepping into a pod that replicates the exact climatic conditions of different Portland tree environments through the ages. The "Arborists in Portland" is a network of ecosensory pods designed by Arborists in Portland that use temperature control, scent diffusion, and surround sound to simulate the specific conditions under which various trees in Portland have thrived.

Each pod tells the story of a tree species through the changing seasons and over decades or centuries, reflecting shifts in weather patterns and ecological impacts due to urban development. This physical, sensory experience is designed to deepen public understanding of how arborists work to preserve these living ecosystems against a backdrop of climate change and urban sprawl, making it an immersive educational tool that celebrates the city’s green heritage.

In Portland, the arborists’ work of Tree Pruning in Hamilton is a blend of science, art, and a touch of magic. They are not just caretakers of trees but are pivotal characters in the ongoing story of the city—a city that breathes through its leaves and dreams through its towering trunks. As long as these tree magicians are around, Portland will continue to thrive as a verdant utopia, a testament to the enchanting power of nature when intertwined with human care and respect.

Join arborists in the leafy lanes in the journey of Tree Pruning in Hamilton, where every tree has a guardian, and every leaf is a verse in the city’s green anthem. Let's wander where the WiFi is weak, but the connection is deep in the enchanting urban forest of Portland.

[quietangrydaughter]

inspirations master page

Dace, Abigail, Ethereal series 1 & 2, 2011, Cotton thread, steel lampshade.

Found Abigail Dace through pinterest. There's not much information about her practice online, I can only seem to find a few works from when she was at art school. Now she does furniture repair and upholstery commissions, and sells a few of her works here and there on Etsy.

^^ one of the listings i could find and source for the images.

Blalock, Ashley V., Now I Lay Me…, 2010, Cotton yarn, Private collection, California.

I imploooore you to look through Ashley V. Blalock's stuff. Omg. Here is her site. She refers to doilies as:

“Those little frilly wonders perched on fine solid wood, handmade furniture of old are just the sort of time-intensive frivolities that seem irrelevant in this age of mass-produced, flat-pack, medium-density fiberboard, planned obsolescence consumer goods that pass as home furnishings today.”

Lace doilies by @/kill3rgirl on instagram.

The use of lace to fundraise for such an intensely horrid thing, the relationship between art and liberation, such a soft and intricate process and the dread of horrid war, all ideas that scream in my head.

more ...

[weddingblogshere]

Celebrating Milestones: Return Gift Ideas for Wedding Anniversaries

A wedding anniversary is a special occasion, a time to reflect on the journey of love and commitment that a couple has shared. It's a celebration of their enduring bond, a testament to the strength of their relationship. As guests gather to mark this milestone, a thoughtful return gift can be the perfect way to express gratitude and appreciation for their presence.

This guide offers a comprehensive look at return gift ideas for wedding anniversaries, considering the themes, styles, and preferences of the couple celebrating their special day. From personalized keepsakes to practical tokens of appreciation, you'll find inspiration for gifts that are both meaningful and memorable.

Understanding Wedding Anniversary Themes: A Guide to Gift-Giving

Each wedding anniversary is often associated with a traditional theme, offering a creative starting point for gift ideas. The theme can inspire unique and thoughtful presents that reflect the couple's journey and the milestones they've achieved together.

1. Traditional Anniversary Themes

Here's a glimpse into some of the classic wedding anniversary themes, along with ideas for gifts that complement them:

First Anniversary: Paper - Consider gifts like personalized stationery, a photo album, a framed handwritten letter, or a custom-made scrapbook.

Second Anniversary: Cotton - Think about practical gifts like luxurious towels, a cozy throw blanket, a personalized robe, or a set of high-quality cotton sheets.

Third Anniversary: Leather - Leather goods are always a timeless choice. Consider a leather wallet, a personalized journal, a travel bag, or a stylish leather belt.

Fourth Anniversary: Fruit and Flowers - This theme offers a variety of options, from a beautifully arranged bouquet of their favorite flowers to a basket of gourmet fruits or a fruit tree sapling they can plant together.

Fifth Anniversary: Wood - Wooden gifts like a personalized cutting board, a decorative box, a set of wooden serving utensils, or a framed piece of wood art are thoughtful and practical choices.

Sixth Anniversary: Iron - A cast iron skillet, a set of iron garden tools, or a decorative iron sculpture are unique and timeless gifts that fit this theme.

Seventh Anniversary: Wool - Consider a luxurious wool blanket, a knitted scarf, a handmade wool rug, or a piece of wool artwork.

Eighth Anniversary: Bronze - This theme offers a range of options, from a decorative bronze sculpture to a piece of bronze jewelry or a gift certificate for a bronze casting class.

Ninth Anniversary: Pottery - A personalized ceramic mug, a set of decorative pottery bowls, a handmade pottery piece, or a pottery-making class are all great ideas.

Tenth Anniversary: Tin or Aluminum - Consider gifts like a set of aluminum cookware, a personalized tin lunchbox, a decorative tin container, or a gift certificate for a metalworking class.

Eleventh Anniversary: Steel - A high-quality stainless steel watch, a set of stainless steel cookware, a personalized steel jewelry piece, or a steel sculpture are all stylish choices.

Twelfth Anniversary: Silk or Linen - Luxurious linens are always a good choice. Think about a silk scarf, a set of linen sheets, a decorative linen tablecloth, or a silk flower arrangement.

Thirteenth Anniversary: Lace - This delicate theme is perfect for gifts like a lace handkerchief, a lace tablecloth, a lace-trimmed scarf, or a framed piece of lace art.

Fourteenth Anniversary: Ivory - Consider gifts like a set of ivory china, a piece of ivory jewelry, a decorative ivory sculpture, or a framed photograph of the couple in an ivory-themed setting.

Fifteenth Anniversary: Crystal - This elegant theme lends itself to gifts like a crystal vase, a set of crystal wine glasses, a crystal sculpture, or a crystal-trimmed jewelry piece.

Twentieth Anniversary: China - A beautiful set of china, a personalized teacup and saucer, a decorative china ornament, or a framed photograph of the couple with their wedding china are all perfect for this milestone.

Twenty-Fifth Anniversary: Silver - Silver is a classic choice for anniversary gifts. Consider a piece of silver jewelry, a set of silverware, a decorative silver ornament, or a framed photograph of the couple with their silver wedding rings.

Thirtieth Anniversary: Pearl - Pearls symbolize wisdom and elegance. Consider a pearl necklace, a set of pearl earrings, a pearl bracelet, or a decorative pearl ornament.

Thirty-Fifth Anniversary: Coral - This theme offers a variety of options, from a piece of coral jewelry to a coral sculpture or a framed photograph of the couple with coral-colored accents.

Fortieth Anniversary: Ruby - Rubies symbolize love, passion, and enduring strength. Consider a ruby ring, a ruby pendant, a ruby bracelet, or a decorative ruby ornament.

Forty-Fifth Anniversary: Sapphire - Sapphires represent wisdom, loyalty, and faithfulness. Consider a sapphire ring, a sapphire pendant, a sapphire bracelet, or a decorative sapphire ornament.

Fiftieth Anniversary: Gold - Gold is the ultimate symbol of love and commitment. Consider a gold watch, a gold necklace, a gold bracelet, or a gold-plated photo frame.

Fifty-Fifth Anniversary: Emerald - Emeralds represent growth, prosperity, and good fortune. Consider an emerald ring, an emerald pendant, an emerald bracelet, or a decorative emerald ornament.

Sixtieth Anniversary: Diamond - Diamonds are the ultimate symbol of love, strength, and enduring commitment. Consider a diamond ring, a diamond pendant, a diamond bracelet, or a decorative diamond ornament.

Unique and Personalized Return Gift Ideas for Wedding Anniversaries

Beyond the traditional themes, here are some unique and personalized gift ideas that will show your appreciation and make the couple feel truly special.

1. Personalized Keepsakes

A personalized gift becomes a cherished treasure, a constant reminder of their love and shared journey.

Engraved Photo Album:** Fill a beautifully designed photo album with memories of their relationship, from their first date to their engagement, culminating in the wedding photos. This keepsake will become a treasure they both cherish. Add a special touch by engraving their names, wedding date, or a meaningful quote on the cover.

Customized Wine Glasses: Celebrate their milestones with engraved wine glasses featuring their names, wedding date, or a special message, adding a touch of elegance to their home décor.

Photo Book of Their Anniversary Celebration: Create a beautiful photo book that captures the joy and warmth of their anniversary celebration, featuring candid moments, shared laughter, and the love that surrounds them.

Custom-Made Artwork: Commission a portrait, painting, or sculpture that captures their love story or a special moment they shared together. This unique piece of art will become a treasured heirloom.

Engraved Jewelry: Add a touch of elegance with engraved jewelry, such as a necklace, bracelet, or ring, featuring their initials, wedding date, or a symbol representing their love.

2. Experiences and Adventures

For the adventurous couple, consider gifting an experience they can share together.

Weekend Getaway: Escape to a romantic destination, a serene mountain retreat, or a bustling city adventure. Create unforgettable memories together and celebrate their new life as a married couple.

Hot Air Balloon Ride: For a truly magical experience, consider a hot air balloon ride that offers breathtaking views and a sense of wonder.

Cooking Class: If they love to cook, treat them to a cooking class that will enhance their culinary skills and create new memories in the kitchen.

Wine Tasting Tour: For wine lovers, a wine tasting tour offers a chance to explore different vineyards, sample a variety of wines, and learn about the winemaking process.

Concert or Theater Tickets: If they are music or theater enthusiasts, give them tickets to a concert, a musical, or a play. This will be a wonderful way to share an evening together.

3. Gifts for their Shared Interests

Cater to their passions and hobbies with a gift that reflects their shared interests.

Movie Lovers: A projector and screen for home movie nights, a subscription to a streaming service, or tickets to a special screening.

Music Enthusiasts: Tickets to see their favorite band, a record player and vinyl collection, or a high-quality pair of headphones.

Outdoor Adventurers: A new hiking backpack, a camping gear set, or a subscription to a national park pass.

Foodies: A gourmet food basket filled with their favorite treats, a cooking class, or a subscription to a meal kit delivery service.

Gardening Enthusiasts: A set of gardening tools, a collection of gardening books, or a gift certificate to a local garden center.

4. Gifts for their Home

These practical gifts will make their daily lives easier and more enjoyable.

High-Quality Bedding: A luxurious duvet cover, a comfortable mattress topper, or a set of plush towels will enhance their sleep and create a relaxing sanctuary.

Kitchen Appliances: Upgrade their kitchen with a stand mixer, a blender, a coffee maker, or a high-quality set of knives.

Smart Home Devices: A smart speaker, a smart thermostat, or a smart lighting system can add convenience and a modern touch to their home.

Gift Certificates for Home Improvement Services: A gift certificate for a cleaning service, a landscaping company, or a home repair specialist can be a welcome gift for busy couples.

Return Gift Ideas That Reflect the Anniversary Theme

If the couple is celebrating a specific anniversary theme, you can create a themed return gift that makes the occasion even more special.

1. Paper Anniversary

For the first anniversary, consider:

Personalized Stationery: A set of stationery with their names or wedding date engraved.

Framed Handwritten Letter: Write a heartfelt letter expressing your love and well wishes for the couple. Frame it for a special keepsake.

2. Cotton Anniversary

For the second anniversary, consider:

Luxurious Towels: A set of plush towels, perhaps in a color that complements their home décor.

Cozy Throw Blanket: A soft and comfortable throw blanket to add warmth and coziness to their living space.

3. Leather Anniversary

For the third anniversary, consider:

Personalized Leather Journal: A leather journal with their names or wedding date engraved, perfect for jotting down memories and thoughts.

Leather Travel Bag: A stylish and durable leather travel bag for their future adventures together.

4. Fruit and Flower Anniversary

For the fourth anniversary, consider:

Gourmet Fruit Basket: A basket filled with a selection of exotic and delicious fruits.

Bouquet of their Favorite Flowers: A beautiful arrangement of their favorite flowers, symbolizing love and beauty.

5. Wood Anniversary

For the fifth anniversary, consider:

Personalized Cutting Board: A cutting board engraved with their names or wedding date, perfect for their kitchen.

Wooden Serving Utensils: A set of beautifully crafted wooden serving spoons and salad tongs.

6. Iron Anniversary

For the sixth anniversary, consider:

Cast Iron Skillet: A durable and versatile cast iron skillet, perfect for cooking their favorite meals.

Set of Iron Garden Tools: For the green-thumbed couple, a set of high-quality iron garden tools.

7. Wool Anniversary

For the seventh anniversary, consider:

Luxurious Wool Blanket: A cozy and warm wool blanket to snuggle under on chilly evenings.

Hand-Knitted Wool Scarf: A beautiful and personalized wool scarf, perfect for the winter season.

8. Bronze Anniversary

For the eighth anniversary, consider:

Decorative Bronze Sculpture: A beautiful and timeless bronze sculpture to add a touch of elegance to their home.

Bronze Jewelry: A unique piece of bronze jewelry, such as a pendant, necklace, or bracelet.

9. Pottery Anniversary

For the ninth anniversary, consider:

Personalized Ceramic Mug: A mug with their names or wedding date printed on it, perfect for their morning coffee.

Set of Decorative Pottery Bowls: A set of beautiful pottery bowls for serving snacks, salads, or desserts.

10. Tin or Aluminum Anniversary

For the tenth anniversary, consider:

Set of Aluminum Cookware: A set of high-quality aluminum cookware, perfect for their kitchen.

Personalized Tin Lunchbox: A charming and practical tin lunchbox for their work lunches or picnics.

11. Steel Anniversary

For the eleventh anniversary, consider:

High-Quality Stainless Steel Watch: A stylish and durable stainless steel watch for their daily wear.

Personalized Steel Jewelry: A piece of stainless steel jewelry, such as a bracelet, necklace, or ring.

12. Silk or Linen Anniversary

For the twelfth anniversary, consider:

Luxurious Linen Sheets: A set of soft and comfortable linen sheets for their bed.

Silk Scarf: A beautiful silk scarf, perhaps in a color that complements their wardrobe.

13. Lace Anniversary

For the thirteenth anniversary, consider:

Lace Tablecloth: A delicate and elegant lace tablecloth for special occasions.

Lace-Trimmed Scarf: A beautiful lace-trimmed scarf for the woman in their life.

14. Ivory Anniversary

For the fourteenth anniversary, consider:

Set of Ivory China: A beautiful set of ivory china for special meals.

Ivory-Themed Photo Frame: A frame in an ivory color or adorned with ivory embellishments, perfect for their wedding photograph.

15. Crystal Anniversary

For the fifteenth anniversary, consider:

Crystal Vase: A beautiful crystal vase for displaying fresh flowers.

Set of Crystal Wine Glasses: A set of elegant crystal wine glasses for enjoying special evenings together.

16. China Anniversary

For the twentieth anniversary, consider:

Beautiful Set of China: A set of high-quality china for their dining table.

Personalized Teacup and Saucer: A teacup and saucer with their names or wedding date printed on them.

17. Silver Anniversary

For the twenty-fifth anniversary, consider:

Silver Jewelry: A piece of silver jewelry, such as a necklace, bracelet, or ring.

Set of Silverware: A set of high-quality silverware for their dining table.

18. Pearl Anniversary

For the thirtieth anniversary, consider:

Pearl Necklace: A classic pearl necklace, symbolizing elegance and wisdom.

Pearl Earrings: A set of elegant pearl earrings.

19. Coral Anniversary

For the thirty-fifth anniversary, consider:

Coral Jewelry: A piece of coral jewelry, such as a pendant, necklace, or bracelet.

Coral-Themed Artwork: A framed photograph of the couple with coral-colored accents or a piece of art featuring a coral reef.

20. Ruby Anniversary

For the fortieth anniversary, consider:

Ruby Ring: A beautiful ruby ring, symbolizing love and passion.

Ruby Pendant: A ruby pendant necklace, adding a touch of elegance.

21. Sapphire Anniversary

For the forty-fifth anniversary, consider:

Sapphire Ring: A beautiful sapphire ring, symbolizing wisdom and loyalty.

Sapphire Pendant: A sapphire pendant necklace, adding a touch of elegance.

22. Gold Anniversary

For the fiftieth anniversary, consider:

Gold Watch: A classic gold watch, a timeless and enduring gift.

Gold Necklace: A beautiful gold necklace, symbolizing love and commitment.

23. Emerald Anniversary

For the fifty-fifth anniversary, consider:

Emerald Ring: A beautiful emerald ring, symbolizing growth and prosperity.

Emerald Pendant: An emerald pendant necklace, adding a touch of elegance.

24. Diamond Anniversary

For the sixtieth anniversary, consider:

Diamond Ring: A beautiful diamond ring, symbolizing eternal love and commitment.

Diamond Pendant: A diamond pendant necklace, adding a touch of elegance.

FAQs About Anniversary Return Gifts

1. What is the appropriate etiquette for giving a return gift at a wedding anniversary?

It's a thoughtful gesture to give a return gift to the couple celebrating their anniversary. The gift should be something that expresses your appreciation for their invitation and your well wishes for their continued happiness together. It's not necessary to give an expensive gift, but a heartfelt and personalized gesture will be appreciated.

2. Should I consider the couple's wedding anniversary theme when choosing a gift?

While not mandatory, using the anniversary theme can inspire unique and thoughtful gift ideas. However, if you're not sure about the theme, it's perfectly acceptable to choose a gift that reflects the couple's interests or preferences.

3. How much should I spend on a return gift for a wedding anniversary?

The cost of the gift should be reflective of your financial situation and your relationship with the couple. A thoughtful and personalized gesture can be both meaningful and affordable, even if it's not expensive.

4. What are some alternative wedding anniversary gift ideas if I can't give a traditional return gift?

You can always give a gift certificate for an experience, such as a cooking class, a wine tasting tour, or a weekend getaway. Or, you can consider a personalized gift, such as a framed photograph of the couple, a custom-made piece of art, or a personalized piece of jewelry.

5. When should I give the return gift for a wedding anniversary?

It's customary to give the return gift during the anniversary celebration, either during the reception or a pre-celebration event. If you can't be present at the event, you can always send the gift in advance with a heartfelt card expressing your well wishes.

Conclusion

A wedding anniversary is a celebration of love, commitment, and the enduring strength of a relationship. A thoughtful return gift can be a powerful way to express your gratitude, your appreciation for the couple, and your hopes for their continued happiness together. Whether you choose a traditional gift inspired by their anniversary theme, a personalized keepsake that reflects their unique bond, or a practical gift that enhances their daily lives, let your gift be a symbol of your love and support for them as they celebrate this special milestone.

For a visual guide on wedding anniversary return gift ideas, check out this video:

Happy gifting!

[k00320518]

assemble - artist research: jesse darling

The tutor Aisling advised me to look into the sculpture artist Jesse Darling as their work that won the 2023 Turner prize for depicted barriers.

They are a multidisciplinary artist based between Berlin and London.

"Darling was nominated for his solo exhibitions No Medals, No Ribbons at Modern Art Oxford and Enclosures at Camden Art Centre."

The barriers they use for "No Medals, No Ribbons" are barricades for football fans in a piece entitled "Come On England" that comments on class divide and Brexit.

The barrier-like structures in "Enclosures" made of barbed wire, lace pelmet and steel feel more symbolic at their raised heights.

I found their usage of these subjects very interesting as they use them to discuss contemporary issues such as privatisation, borders and divide.

"I am interested in man-made materials and by-products because they are expressions of will upon the world." - Jesse Darling

I also take interest in man-made materials for similar reasons. primarily their contrast to organic forms. Objects created naturally compared to human's mark on the world, our "expression of will".

We noticed a lot of humour in your work. How does that balance with some of the more serious topics you are exploring?

"Things can be funny and sad at the same time, or silly and serious. People and things are flexible and resilient, as well as breakable and vulnerable. Most things in one’s own life are funny when seen from a certain angle, and sometimes your best bet is to find that angle and just have a laugh about it all. " - Jesse Darling

I think their use of humour is something I'd like to also include in my signage as I'm looking to make a statement that's equally serious but also silly.

They reiterate this when discussing their "Enclosures" exhibition and I found their own words on this quite moving, best stating it:

"It's an ambivalent, loving, angry satire, which is also very serious and not at all a joke." - Jesse Darling

Hence my usage of:

"Come In. Live on a floodplain"

It's a weird tagline that sounds like a joke but is the reality of what these property developers are selling to people in my locale. I like the idea of being somewhat tongue-in-cheek with my statements.

[jenny-wu-lace]

The Velum Stainless Steel Ring by Jenny Wu Lace showcases a unique drapery-inspired design, with a central curvature wrapping around the finger into two open rings. Crafted from Stainless Steel 316, this ring offers a modern, sculptural aesthetic. Perfect for those who appreciate contemporary jewelry, the Velum ring combines elegance with a bold statement. Explore this distinctive piece here.

[archinform]

Trustees System Service Building - Part 2

Address: 201 N. Wells St.

Year Built: 1929 - 1930

Architects/designers: Thielbard & Fugard, Edgar Miller, Eugene and Gwen Lux

Trustees System Service Building

Trustees System Service Building, Chicago, Illinois, Presentation Drawing, 1930. Artist: Thielbar and Fugard (American, 20th Cent.)

Elizabeth Hyde Holden (American, Unknown). Art Institute of Chicago

Trustees System Service Building, top stories, June 2, 1930. Creator: Hedrich-Blessing. Chicago History Museum.

The building:

The Trustees System Service Building (now known as Century Tower) is a striking art deco skyscraper rising at the corner of Lake and Wells Streets, in downtown Chicago. Designed in 1929 by the architectural firm of Thielbar & Fugard, the building was completed in 1930. Elevated tracks round the southwest corner of the building as CTA trains enter the Loop from the North and West Sides, making its second-story relief sculptures easily viewable by train passengers.

Of 28 stories, the building consists of a 20-story base topped by an eight-story set-back tower and a ziggurat (stepped pyramid). Its design conformed to a 1923 local zoning ordinance which not only allowed for taller buildings of over 264 feet, but only through the use of set-back towers that covered only 25 percent of the building lot.

At the time of its completion, it was the tallest reinforced concrete building in the world. Its original tenant and namesake was the Trustees System Service, a bank founded in 1914 by businessman John Charles Corcoran that specialized in consumer loans, capitalized by wage earners in the American Midwestern cities in which it operated. The building had a long list of various countries' consulates as tenants. The bank collapsed some years later, and a receiver was appointed in late October 1932. It was held bankrupt in January 1934. 

The building’s first twenty stories were constructed of concrete slabs and columns reinforced with cast-iron cores and helical bars, while the set-back tower was framed in steel. The first four floors are faced in pale gold limestone while upper floors are clad with various colors of brick that graduate in color from rust red on the building's lower floors to lighter yellow on the building’s tower. It was thought that this gave the impression of greater height. [Chicago Landmark Commission]

The original banking entrance on Lake Street rises two stories, and to the right a secondary entrance leads to the business building and the elevator banks (now the entrance to the Century Tower residences). Exterior relief sculptures by Eugene and Gwen Lux frame the doorway and decorate upper floors of the building.

Inside, all is colorful rare marble and further sculptural ornament, including pilaster capitals and gold relief medallions framing the original banking stairway. The banking entrance doors are set below a grid of glass panels that rises to the top of the two-story surround, consisting of a cut-lead grillwork sandwiched between glass. Designed by Chicago artist Edgar Miller, the lead grillwork contains human figures representing the many trades of man through history, including mining, farming, and logging, set within lace-like geometry.

The banking lobby itself is 25 feet in height and finely detailed with various marbles, including a Travertine floor detailed with black Belgian marble and a sixteen-foot-wide marble staircase that originally led to the second-floor banking hall. The walls of the staircase are clad with red Numidian marble matching that used for the office lobby walls.

Eugene and Gwen Lux, husband and wife, designed the low-relief sculptural panels that ornament the Trustees System Service Building. Eugene Van Breeman Lux was born in Hungary in 1900 and received training as a sculptor at fine arts academies in Paris, Vienna, and Munich. Among his teachers were the French sculptor Bourdelle and the Yugoslav artist Ivan Mestrovic, who created the Native American statues in Chicago's Congress Plaza. Along with the low-relief sculptures ornamenting Chicago’s McGraw-Hill Building (created with his wife Gwen), the sculptural panels for the Trustees System Service Building are his best-known artistic works; after their completion, Eugene Lux entered the newly developing field of industrial design.

Gwen Lux (1908-1986) had a long career as an artist... Later commissions by Gwen Lux include an aluminum sculpture of Eve commissioned by the Radio City Music Hall in New York and installed in 1933.

Edgar Miller (1899-1993) designed the cut-lead decorative grilles that ornament the transom above the building’s banking lobby street entrance and the large door that separates the banking lobby from the building’s office lobby. One of the country's most versatile artists, he is known for his collaboration on the Carl Street Studios, in Chicago.

Architects Thielbar and Fugard

Thielbar & Fugard, the architects for the Trustees System Service Building, are significant in Chicago architecture as the designers of the McGraw-Hill Building on North Michigan Avenue and as associated architects for the Jewelers Building on East Wacker Drive, both Chicago Landmarks. In addition, John Fugard was the designer, through his earlier firm of Fugard & Knapp, of several luxury apartment buildings on Chicago’s prestigious East Lake Shore Drive (now a Chicago Landmark district) and was associated with the design of the Allerton Hotel on North Michigan Avenue, also a Chicago Landmark. 1 Chicago Landmark Commission

Portraits, Chicago Landmark Commission

The building was illustrated and described in various publications, some of which are shown below.

Scanned pages from The Architectural Forum, vol. LII, no. 1, January 1, 1931, Part One:

Set into the staircase walls are a pair of bronze plaques, also designed by the Luxs. Allegorical in image, one symbolizes “Thrift” with images of an owl (representing wisdom), a beehive (denoting hard work), a prosperous-looking man, and the phrase “Life prospers the thrifty,” while the other, “Thriftlessness,” depicts a shoeless, ragged-looking man surrounded by weed-like thistles and thorns and bears the phrase “Life punishes the thriftless.”

[Commission on Chicago Landmarks]

Additional images from Trustees System Service Building, 201 N. Wells St. Preliminary Landmark recommendation approved by the Commission on Chicago Landmarks, January 9, 2003

This plan of the second floor dates from 1953, and shows the intact configuration of the main banking room (see illstratiions below). The west portion, on the Wells Street side, was apparently occuppied by the architectural offices of Graham, Anderson, Probst, and White.

The building was illustrated in the April 1931, vol. 8 no. 12 issue of Through the Ages, pp. 9-16 [link to pdf of article]. Published by the National Association of Marble Dealers, the publication focuses on the use of marble in the Trustees System Service Building.

Describing the building's entrance:

Through bronze doors, you enter into a spacious lobby of warm, subdued richness, relieved by touches of gold. The wall surfaces are of Red Numidian marble to the ceiling, the floor is of Napoleon Gray, and borders are of Cardiff Green and Travertine Antique. From this lobby seven elevators, all of them of the latest type with full automatic control, serve the patrons. From an adjacent entrance hall (there are entrances conveniently located on both Wells and Lake Streets) a grand staircase of Italian Travertine mounts to the Industrial Finance quarters. The walls of this fine flight are also of Red Numidian, and this same striking material was widely employed for the main banking quarters, which are described later on. This Red Numidian marble comes from quarries at Oran, in Africa, and it is claimed that there are only a very few buildings in America in which it was used. The quarries were known to have been operated by the Romans, but records show that they were in production even before the Romans. They have found traces where this material was used in Palestine many years before any of it was transported to the Roman Empire. The original quarries (the Romans operated several) have become exhausted, and those which are now being worked are comparatively new, having been opened only ten or twelve years ago. [Through the Ages p. 12]

Further:

"The marble, which is blood red in color, is quarried by hand. No machinery whatever is employed. Often entire families work for months in getting out a single block. "It is said the Trustees System headquarters, the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh and the Union Trust Company in Detroit, are the only buildings in America which are fortunate enough to possess this rare relic of old Roman splendor." [Through the Ages p. 14]

The illustrations below come from the same issue of Through the Ages.

Finance Banking Room, second floor

The banking room lobby has a Travertine floor with dots of Belgian Black, but the outer border is of Dark Cedar Tennessee. The banking room is divided by a row of Red Numidian marble pillars supporting a gold decorated ceiling, and the foyer is between the pillars and the east wall. Check desks, benches and cashiers’ cages are all a combination of Black and Gold marble and the African Numidian above referred to. The illustrations herewith portray the splendid effect of these materials. [Through the Ages p. 14]

A detail of the above image, showing the decorative panels of the history of Industrial Finance by Eugene Lux. The third panel appears at top right, depicting the Schulze Delitzch banks .2

The banking room and panels are described:

"Topping the Numidian marble of the east wall,” to quote from a booklet published as a supplement to the Industrial Banker of May, 1930, "is a frieze of sculptured plaques depicting the history of Industrial Finance. These plaques, the work of Eugene Lux, are done in a Neo-Classic style, and tell the story of the rise of this important field of business. The first plaque portrays the Medieval Pawnshop, one of those institutions which made the need for co-operative credit so imperative; the second, depicts the Raiffeisen system; the third, the Schulze-Delitzch banks; and the fourth, a Trustees System Service office. This last plaque is one of the few pieces of sculpturing in this country in which the figures are done in modern dress.” [Through the Ages pp. 14, 16]

The second of Lux's panels, on the east wall of the banking room above a doorway, depicts the Raiffeisen system. 3 The image above is a detail from p. 17 of The Architectural Forum article reproduced above.

Marble bench in the Banking Room

According to the Chicago Landmark Designation Report, "The building was modernized in 1967, at which time the second-floor banking hall was largely stripped of historic details." It is not known what happened to the relief panels and other banking lobby accoutrements.

The building went by several named after Trustees System Service lost control in the 1930s. It was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1998. The property was converted from a commercial building to apartments in 2003, and in September 2005 became a condominium and its name changed to Century Tower.

NOTES:

1. The architectural firm of Thielbar & Fugard was founded in 1925. Frederick J. Thielbar (1886-1941), a native of Peoria, Illinois, attended the University of Illinois before going to work for the noted Chicago firm of Holabird & Roche. There, Thielbar served as a superintendent of construction and later as a partner. His most significant work while with Holabird & Roche was the Chicago Temple Building, located at Clark and Washington Streets and constructed in 1923. Thielbar was a member of the Board of Directors of the Methodist Church in Chicago and secured the commission for the building, built by the First Methodist Church to house both church sanctuaries and rental offices. Thielbar was both principal designer and construction supervisor for this work. John Reed Fugard (1886-1968) was born in Newton, Iowa, and also attended the University of Illinois, receiving a B.S. in architecture in 1910. His early practice was with George A. Knapp in the firm of Fugard & Knapp, and the pair designed several noteworthy luxury apartment and hotel buildings in Chicago during the 1910s and early 1920s, including three of the eight buildings that comprise the East Lake Shore Drive Chicago Landmark District. Fugard & Knapp also designed the Moody Memorial Church on N. Clark St. (1924) and the South Water Market complex on Chicago s Near West Side (1925). They also collaborated with New York architects Murgatroyd and Ogden in the construction of the Allerton Hotel, 701 N. Michigan Ave., built in 1924 and a designated Chicago Landmark. The firm of Thielbar & Fugard was formed in 1925. Significant buildings designed by the firm include the McGraw-Hill Building , 520 N. Michigan Ave., built in 1929 and a designated Chicago Landmark; the Raphael Hotel at 201 E. Delaware Pl.; the Colonnade apartment building at Main and Hinman in Evanston; the Hall of Religion for the 1933- 34 Century of Progress Exposition; and the Wesley Memorial Hospital (now part of Northwestern Memorial Hospital) in 1941. The firm also collaborated in 1926 with architects Giaver & Dinkelberg on the design of the Jewelers Building at 35 E. Wacker Dr., designated a Chicago Landmark. Fugard was prominent in civic affairs, taking a special interest in housing issues. He served as a commissioner of the Chicago Housing Authority (CHA) and was a founder and president of the Metropolitan Housing and Planning Council. Thielbar & Fugard also were associated architects on the Ida B. Wells housing project for the CHA, one of the city s early public housing projects in the late 1930s. Source: Commission on Chicago Landmarks, Preliminary Landmark recommendation, p. 16

2. For information on Franz Hermann Schulze-Delitzsch, see Wikipedia.

3. The Raiffeisen system: [Friedrich Wilhelm] Raiffeisen "...conceived of the idea of cooperative self-help during his tenure as the young mayor of Flammersfeld. He was inspired by observing the suffering of the farmers who were often in the grip of loan sharks. He founded the first cooperative lending bank, in effect the first rural credit union in 1864."

Wikipedia

Links:

Architecture Farm: old chicago skyscraper of the week–trustees system services

Cahan, Richard and Williams, Michael, Edgar Miller and the Handmade Home. CityFiles Press, 2009

Century Tower (Chicago)

chicago.designslinger, Thursday, March 5, 2015, Trustees System Service Building

Divi Logan, Linkedin.com, The Artistic Legacy of Edgar Miller, Gwen Lux and Eugene Lux: The Trustees System Service Building.

Trustees System Service Building, 201 N. Wells St. Preliminary Landmark recommendation approved by the Commission on Chicago Landmarks, January 9, 2003

National Register of Historic Places Registration Report

The Architectural Forum Part 1, January 1931, section of Trustees System Service Building, pp. 59-70

The Architectural Forum: Link to complete January 1 1931 Part 1 issue

Through the Ages, April 1931 , vol. 8 no. 12, pp. 9-16