#that's for later
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totally-bing · 8 months ago
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search query: why do I feel electrically charged at certain moments
bing result: the fury of zeus
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capsensislagamoprh · 7 months ago
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CHA 3
“When you said I could come along, I didn’t know I would be carrying your gear and moving lights,” Victor groused.
“How else was I supposed to get you in,” Christophe grinned. “It’s not like anyone can just wander on and off the set.”
“Outdoor setting is a location, not a set,” Victor mumbled, trying to be right about something. His morning had been pretty basic. Rise. Skin care, hair care. Two hours - one for each. Beauty is upkeep! Dressing, forty five minutes. One must accessorize properly! His look doesn't just create itself! Then breakfast of a decadent croissant from the most delightful bakery by the apartment, washed down with a vanilla latte`. Christoph washed his pastry down with rooibos, sturing in a touch of honey to sweeten it up. They then got into the Miata and drove. Today’s shoot was for children’s clothes, taking advantage of the whimsical nature of Paris’ many highlights. Wrot iron, the Eiffel Tower, Lurve, streets made of old stone, and niche locations. All within a few blocks of each other whenever possible. 
It was an interesting side of the fashion world. Most were concerned with avant garde, couture, or stage costumes for high end productions. Victor wanted to see his designs out there, making people feel beautiful, special, even on the worst days. He wanted someone to reach into their wardrobe, pull out that one special piece and know the feel of it on their body would get them through the roughest day because they knew they were not only comfortable, but fashionable. There was just something about how the touch of cashmere or the pull of silk could change the way one thinks. But first he had to pay his dues.
Christophe had some of the best assistants twitching lighting, fixing props, lining up markers. Paris itself seemed to adjust to him. Crowds dissipated, birds flew at artful angels, and the sun kissed just the right part of every model. Victor was amazed by the way he managed to walk casually through any scene, clicking his camera until the city noises were overwritten by the sound of another moment being captured in time. They looked over the shots between changes of clothes and models, keeping the children busy so as to avoid boredom and antsy guardians.
The street-wear line was fun, playful, full of youthful vigor. When they changed over to the more elegant, formal designs, the models did too. Dark haired girls with luminous eyes, boys with elegant cuts mocking adult slide backs, slick at the sides and tapered to look upscale. Accessories changed to watches that were less Swatch and more metallic. Some seemed to be casually dressed as tinny ideals, while others were fantastical. Few stood out, being nervous or a little too full of themselves.
Christophe watched the world through his lens, waiting to strike. Victor saw a few potential stars starting to shine, caught in the flair of his lens, but only one seemed to carry that shimmering quality that would take them from childhood through the cruelty of puberty and into adulthood with all their beauty intact. A fairy-like boy, very young and very serious. When asked to turn, he turned. When asked to be whimsical, he stood tall, arms stretched to the sky before doing a jeté with ease. He leaned against a lamp post, the billowing sleeves of his cooler colored shirt, polka dotted with puffs of thread a sheer overlay for the thin undershirt pressed into his thin frame, white shorts cut in an arch at the thigh, white tights tucked into ballet flats. His golden hair picked up the echoes of sunset as he looked towards the Tower. Victor could almost see the fairy wings that were not there. Christophe must have seen it too. He took more pictures of the boy in his many outfits than the others. He just pulled them off better, seeming to look at home in anything they threw at him. The casual play line clothes earlier were tried on him. As he darted about the darkening streets, arms thrown behind him in a playful run, eyes to the sky, his smile just a little melancholic, Victor felt what Christophe saw. Ethereal took a lot of work, but when you came across it naturally, you worked with it until it could do no more.
The boy wore what was asked, changed as many times as needed. He went through hair style after hair style, make-up touches, and did not complain when he received little to no break for four hours of grueling activity. But those smiles. Those melancholic smiles. No filter in the world could make that smile true.
As they were wrapping up for the day, Christoph looked over the stills, picking and choosing with rapid efficiency. As he stretched his aching back, he turned to see how the clean up was going. The boy was crouched down, hand low, a street cat slowly approaching. Quickly he snapped some candids. These would be great for his school portfolio. He didn’t even need a release, as anything he took while working was free game, and since the boy was still wearing the hair and make up style from the last shoot, he figured that counted.
Soon, the boy was picked up. Christophe turned back to the dailies, while Victor stared for a moment. “I could get used to living here,” he sighed as the man in the ass hugging jeans took the boy's hand, leading him to a silver Lexus. Popping his head up, Christophe smiled.
“Ah, Paris! De tels trésors abondent dans la ville de l'amour.”
“I don’t know about l’amour, but definitely… how to say, strast'?” Victor tapped his temple a few times. “Passion!”
“There’s passion and there’s lasciveté. What you have, mon ami, is a need to release.”
Victor raised a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “You can’t blame me for looking.”
“Can’t I?” Christophe purred.
“Heartless tease.”
_______
CHA 4
They sat together looking over stills, images caressed by just the right amount of light and ones born of miserable reflections captured in lens flares and ill timed background elements. “You could adjust them,” Victor offered quietly.
Christophe looked scandalized. “I will do no such thing. When making some elements it is fine, the amount of adjustment these images will need? Non. When creating art it is never a good idea to bring dishonesty to your piece. The human can tell, even if they don’t know what the lie is.”
Leaning against the wall in the antechamber between his bedroom and the bath, he sighed. “It’s not that hard, right? You have the skill, da?”
“I have the skill, but correcting these is … It’s like seeing a blurry, pixelated Monet and asking a toddler to make it better. You can’t replicate that look of melancholy, the way the sun caught his hair, the way the clothes seemed to float around him. I’m telling you, Vita, that kid is magic. There’s something about him.” Christophe threw himself backwards in his chair, sending both it and him sliding back a few feet. “Something special, and I almost captured it.”
“Comrad, you have so many other images of him. Look, in this one he’s even smiling.”
“It’s plastic, Vita. Can’t you see it? Here.” Christophe pulled himself back towards the computer. “Look at how there is no light in his eyes. Too many teeth, shoulders are tense.”
“You see all that?” Victor looked again, trying to find the signs the photographer noted. To him the child looked happy, well dressed and fed, other children surrounding him just as pleasant and cheerful. He saw children playing a game with chalked out squares and a rock. It seemed like the kind of thing all advertisers ached for. An air of youthful relevance combined with age old money. It practically commanded people to buy what was shown without being too obvious about it. At least not until the company plastered their brand on the page with a massive scrawl across the pleasant scene.
“I do. I see a lot of things through the lens. A lot of very secret things.”
“Voyeur.”
Christophe smiled. “Have you considered using those exceptional skills at flattery on that man with the tight ass?”
Victor blinked, his blue eyes vacant as he tried to recall who Christophe was talking about. When he remembered his cheeks turned pink, his eyes sparkling. “If he shows up again, I just might.”
“Flirt.”
Victor gasped. “You? Call me a flirt?” He grinned. “Flatterer.”
A deep chuckle mingled with the light, airy sounds of laughter as they felt tension leave them with the faint breath of gentle comradery. Finally, Christophe turned from the computer, having saved the files, ready to take them in the next day for approval and printing. “So,” he smiled, deep burr fairly purring the word, “What plans do you have for the evening?”
“Dinner, I suppose. I should work on that desk, and I need to get some more boxes unpacked…” Victor sighed. “I need to put together my start of semester portfolio.”
“Victor! You should already have that completed,” Christophe chided.
“I did, but then I moved, and I didn’t want things ruined, so I …” A vague gesture to the many tubes and flat pack boxes with reinforced edges stacked in various piles gave depth to the weight of the problem. “Now I have to find everything again.”
“Oh, min vän. You start sorting this,” Christophe stood, wiggling his fingers at the daunting task, “and I’ll order something. We can make a night of it.”
Victor’s shoulders dropped as his knees bent back. “Must we?”
“Min kärlek, vi måste. There is no time like last week. Today will have to do.” Slipping through the door to the bathroom, disappearing through another, the tall blond was off, leaving Victor to stare down the many packages wanting his attention.
By the time Christophe returned with lobster bisque, fresh salad, and the crispiest chunks of crackling bread Victor had the privilege to break diet for, he was more than ready for the wine that accompanied it. He’d found several of his more necessary sketches wrinkled by box shift during the move. A few of his fabrics were naked, ripped, or had holes that made it very clear what postal thought of the extra money he’d paid to have them expressed and marked ‘KHRUPKIY’. All those rubbles down the proverbial drain.
“Oh, Victor. These photos. Did you mean for them to be so…” Christophe tried not to wrinkle his nose, he really did. Victor looked over sharply.
“Oh! Oh no! Net! Net, no, no, net, no!” Victor slipped between English and Russian in his frustration. The whole album was sticky, as if someone had spilt a sugar drink, carelessly pushing the package along without a care. His hands found his hairline, tugging great tufts of silver pale locks.  His whole fashion line from his previous collections was represented in those photos. Photos he would need for his classes, for reference, for the memories. “Christophe! Chris, comrade! Can they be saved?”
The Swedish man winced as he tried to unstick a few pages. Looking at the box of supplies they’d found earlier, Christophe rummaged until he found the pressure blade he’d spied earlier. Carefully he cut the picture free of its sheath, only for it to make a puckering, Velcro sound that caused every fiber of his being to shiver in distaste. Catching the pale cheeked face of his friend, his blue eyes so wide with the edge of desperation and hope, Christophe braced himself. Turning the photo to the light, the damage was clear. Colors peeled off, micro tears deformed some of the image. It was coated in what smelled like cola, which was clearly eating into the integrity of the paper. Victor’s throat dropped to his thighs, hands slack at his side. “What am I going to do?”
These photos were useless now. He’d not been able to get the originals, only prints. The photographer he’d worked with had refused to give up his claim, wanting exorbitant amounts of money Victor simply didn’t have. Someone’s carelessness cost him over a fourth of his portfolio.
“Do you still have the clothes?” Christophe asked, looking at the many unpacked boxes.
“I … yes, most of them. Some were sold to pay for my travel.”
“Bien. Here is what we’re going to do…”
cha 1&2
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pocketss · 26 days ago
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laurie 😔
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kvothes · 3 months ago
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so true
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qrowscant · 5 months ago
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its been about 6 months
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ploppymeep · 5 months ago
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zephyrine-gale · 5 months ago
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dunmeshi square prints I'll have at ax!
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a whole bunch of gazan mutual aid projects and nonprofits. if the decision of which individual fundraiser to give to feels too daunting, or if you just want to help as many people as possible in one go, these are great initiatives to support.
care for gaza - focuses on providing food and essential supplies. donate here or here.
connecting humanity - securing internet access via donations of virtual sim cards (esims). if you can't afford a whole plan yourself, crips for esims is a communal pool that will use your donation to purchase and maintain esims
gaza soup kitchen - provides food, medical care, and classes for children. also has a gofundme
glia gaza medical support initiative - provides medical care through field clinics and tents at hospitals. donations can also be sent through their website.
ele elna elak - provides clean water, food, clothing, and shelter. they also have a gofundme
life for gaza - raising money for the gaza municipality to repair water and waste management infrastructure
taawon - partners with local civil organizations to provide food, water, medical care, shelter, and basic supplies
the sameer project - running various initiatives providing tents, medical care, and necessities. they have their own encampment project focused on sheltering families with children, sick and disabled members, or members in need of perinatal care
islamic relief worldwide's gaza emergency appeal - provides food, water, hygiene kits, medical supplies, and psychological support
baitulmaal - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, shelter, and medical supplies
gaza mutual aid fund - distributes food, hygiene products, water, and other essential supplies, including financial support. run by @/el-shab-hussein's amazing friend Mona. updates can be found on her instagram.
hygiene kits for gaza - provides hygiene supplies including menstrual products, wipes, and toothbrushes/toothpaste
anera - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, hygiene supplies, medicine, blankets and mattresses, and psychological care
palestine children's relief fund - provides supplies and support with a focus on children. also has an initiative for lebanon
dahnoun mutual aid - provides water, food, tents, baby supplies, financial support, and other necessities. updates can be found through their instagram
certainly this is not an exhaustive list, so please feel free to add on other projects or organizations that i didn't include. and as always, please take the time to donate if you can and share. it truly makes all the difference.
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river--ghost · 6 days ago
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work all night on a drink of rum
daylight come and me wan go home
stack banana til the morning come
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say day
me say day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
a beautiful bunch of ripe banana
daylight come and me wan go home
hide the deadly black tarantula
daylight come and me wan go home
lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
six foot seven foot eight foot bunch
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say day
me say day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
come mr tallyman tally me banana
daylight come and me wan go home
dayo
dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
day
me say day
me say day
me say dayo
daylight come and me wan go home
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phantomrose96 · 7 months ago
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With the Reddit 3rd party app crackdown and the ongoing horseshit Elon Musk is pulling with "X", I realize a lot of people here might be pretty new. So I put together a quick and easy guide for using Tumblr for anyone new who might need it.
Tumblr was made by David Karp and we call him Daddy around these parts (^///^)
You are not safe from fandom-gif attacks ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
Speaking of fandoms, the tumblr fandoms are always ready to grab their [object] and go to war against the Beliebers ╰(*°▽°*)╯
The only safe refuge from fandom tumblr is with hipster tumblr. If you can get a cool alt-girl to take you under her wing, you might be safe... for now (●'◡'●)
You will watch the first episode of Supernatural... and then you're part of the Winchester family. (Or if you skip right to season 4, we don't blame you. It's where Destiel starts (*/ω\*))
This is not a glomp-free zone ☆*: .。. o(≧▽≦)o .。.:*☆
Use missing e. It's the only way to make Tumblr useable on Internet Explorer (this is the most popular browser and you're probably using it right now) :-D
Our only adult-supervision is John Green... and even then does that REALLY count as supervision? DFTBA! φ(゜▽゜*)♪
Just this once, everyone lives. It's bigger on the inside. Elementary, my dear Watson.
If you see Misha Collins staring at you, the polite response is "Saving people, hunting things, the family business." O.O
I might lose followers for this, but this blog supports gay rights, and yours should too (14 gifs of Sherlock and The Hobbit)
Tumblr will teach you more about the world than you'll ever learn in school. ○( ^皿^)っ
Tread carefully... we have teh yaoiz O.o. Oh you don't know what that means? Well let's just say... it's full of lemons here.
If you see Hannibal Lector in a flower crown, tell him it looks very nice. His boyfriend Will Graham made it for him. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
Do not enter the dog park. The dog park will not harm you.
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great-and-small · 6 months ago
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Apparently the local university’s undergraduate entomology course sends students to catch insect specimens at the same place I like to go birdwatching, which explains why I saw three enormous frat looking dudes with tiny bug nets and overheard one emphatically say “bro BRO I told you we already have enough lepidopterans”
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mysterycitrus · 5 months ago
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lbr he doesnt stand a chance against a real clownoisseur
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ithappensoffstage · 8 months ago
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I am genuinely so worried for all the young horny dykes going into adulthood thinking there's something "problematic" / "wrong" with them for being horny because fucking tiktok lesbians think any horny dyke content is "male gaze fetishistic"
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flame-shadow · 1 year ago
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hey did you know??? that if you stop stretching and maintaining mobility in your body then it goes away?? things get tight and you can't move the way that you used to??? and when you decide to try getting a stretch routine going that the first week fucking sucks because you keep going 'damn i used to be able to do this no problem' and then you have to switch gears and be kind to yourself and just focus on getting better from here instead of berating yourself for dropping the good habits in the first place??? and your body never stops aging so you gotta keep taking care of it and sometimes you gotta take care of it extra in certain areas because of things that happened when you were younger and it's boring and sometimes hurts but it's so necessary???
i am yelling this at myself right now i am going through An Experience (trying to get into a routine of body maintenance again for my physical and mental health)
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foldingfittedsheets · 5 months ago
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Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.
Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.
To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)
In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.
Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.
Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.
When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.
The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.
I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.
“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.
I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”
“Didn’t you check the notes?”
I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”
He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.
It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.
I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”
“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”
“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.
The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.
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