#the vogue talent corner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jokeroutsubs · 2 months ago

Text

[📝ENG TRANSLATION] We spent a day with the band Joker Out with whom we talked about everything (including the new album)

Original article written by Tijana Čvorak for Vogue Adria, published 15.11.2024. English translation by IG marija_rocen, review by IG irenalemajic, @moonlvster, proofread by IG Gboleyn123.

Full article under the cut 👇

(Ph: Primož Lukežić)

It's Friday, late in the morning, my colleague Tesa and I met up at the agreed place, in the middle of the industrial zone. On one side there was a parking lot, and on the other an industrial hall and office buildings, a self-service laundromat, a small bar... And a blue metal door. Behind the door is the charming, cozy music studio of the band Joker Out, full of instruments, books and character. When we entered, a friendly voice greeted us from above, and when we looked up, we saw a smiling Jure Maček, the band's drummer, in the gallery.

We climbed the stairs to a platform with a fence, which was obviously the production chill corner of this studio. There were two sofas, a Biedermeier-style wooden table, which surely once graced a bourgeois living room from the 80s, and on the other side there was a table with a computer, an impressive screen and a small mixer. Delighted by the atmosphere and appearance of the studio, we learned from Jure that we're standing in a former garage and that, in addition to musical talent, he also has carpentry skills - because the wooden interior of the studio is actually the work of his hands.

(Ph: Mark Pirc)

Whether you're from this region or not, the media attention that Joker Out has been getting since performing at the Eurovision Song Contest has been hard to ignore. Since 2016, when they formed the band as teenagers, they have won several 'Zlata piščal' ('Golden Whistle') awards in the Artist and Newcomers categories and were nominated for a MAC Award for Best Regional Ex-Yu Rock Band. Their hit 'Carpe Diem' has a more than impressive 23 million streams on Spotify and is the third most popular Eurovision song. I remember when they performed in my town last summer, just a few hundred metres from my house, so I could listen to them with a glass of wine on the terrace. Even though I wasn't standing in front of the stage, I could feel the contagious energy they were spreading, and the singing and cheers of the audience seemed even louder and filled with euphoria.

While I was preparing for the interview, I found out that Joker Out are also popular beyond the borders of our region - at concerts abroad, the audience sings songs with them in the Slovenian language. Furthermore, I discovered that the release of their new music video for the song 'Bluza' was scheduled on the day of our interview. "Yes, exactly," Jure confirmed to me, "let's wait for the others, then we'll watch it together." Soon the other members of the band arrived, some visibly disheveled and sleepless, because the editing of the video lasted until late at night. By the time we all impatiently looked at the monitor, waiting for the new video to be displayed, it had already collected 6,000 views in just a few hours, while the song 'Bluza', since it was released on streaming services, had already reached more than half a million streams. 'Bluza' is one of the singles from the new album 'Souvenir Pop', which is being released today and it represents a sort of a musical diary of the past year and a half of their lives, from the performance at the Eurovision Song Contest onwards.

"The inspiration for the album were the events from the tour, love stories, even global geopolitical topics," laughs Bojan. "All the reflections and deliberations that happened to us in the past year and a half." They say that the new album differs from the previous ones primarily due to the fact that it's sonically much more diverse and richer with instruments.

"Apart from those usual clichés - the whole album is more mature, we've developed the sound and so on - with this album we didn't strictly stick to our own instruments, but rather experimented and explored with different instruments", Kris Guštin, the band's guitarist describes for us. On this album, for the first time, they recorded about half of the songs with Jan on keyboards. "And the lyrics are darker this time, more gloomy than on 'Demoni', so we went one step further there as well." Bojan adds that on this album, for the first time, they recorded songs written in three languages - Slovenian, English and Serbian.

(Ph: Vita Orehek)

We asked him if he could single out any advantages or differences in writing songs in different languages, and he tells us that the language of a song is often dictated by the inspiration itself. "The story already comes with its own language and I don't like changing the songs just because they should be in another language. I don't want to adapt or distort the story as it is." He also discovered that he has different attitudes towards himself in different languages. For example, in Serbian, he says, he can be the most honest when he writes about love, while for the song 'Everybody's Waiting' in English, it's easier for him to be open and honest with himself about unpleasant feelings. On the other hand, it's most natural for him to talk about world and political topics in Slovenian.

The process of creating the album was described to us by bassist Nace Jordan: "The album actually started with the Eurovision song 'Carpe Diem', and after Eurovision and the tour, we moved to London for two months in January this year, looking for new inspiration for the future album. After the tour finished, we spent six weeks in two studios and finished the album with our producer Žarko Pak." Kris, for example, is most looking forward to performing the eighth song from the album 'Mesto duhov' ('City of Ghosts'), because the song contains many unpredictable moments. "I can't wait to hear it and perform it live on stage and see the reactions of the audience who will see it for the first time," he says. "Wow. I haven't even thought about that", Bojan comments. "I have," Nace and Kris answer in unison. We asked them what exactly they thought. "The song is actually a kind of psychosis, where the lyrical subject jumps from a very aggressive and melancholic state to a pompous, almost post-mortem atmosphere," explains Kris. "It seems almost like a funeral song that constantly jumps between the stanza and the chorus, changing the sound image, the tempo, the atmosphere, and, in fact, the whole attitude of the song."

"Not only is it fun to play, but it will also be challenging to practise." When asked which song gave them the most problems, they all unanimously agreed: 'Šta bih ja'. "It's a song that requires a precise fit of all elements, otherwise the song simply doesn't work," Bojan explains. "We couldn't find the formula to arrange all the elements correctly and we were searching for a solution for a long time." "We recorded it more than 130 times", Nace adds. "We're still not sure if it's a slow or dance song," adds Kris, and the guys laugh in agreement. "One or two attempts are usually enough for us - just right", Bojan concludes.

(Ph: Vita Orehek)

When asked about how they developed and changed as artists over time, Bojan smiled and immediately handed the microphone to Jan Peteh: "You can start, keyboard player." Jan, the band's guitarist, continued and explained how, during the recording of one of the songs from the album, 'Everybody's Waiting', they found themselves at a standstill with the arrangement, unsure in which direction they should proceed. But thanks to Žarko's solution, everything fell into place. Jure improvised on the drums on the verse "What a wonderful life", and Jan complemented him by playing electric keyboards. "We connected a Rhodes keyboard to the amplifier and since then, in fact, I've been playing both keyboards and synthesizers in our songs," Jan concludes. "Don't be so modest", Bojan adds and continues: "Actually, it was discovered completely by chance that Jan is also extremely talented on keyboards, which delighted us all. Even our producer Žare was impressed by Jan's approach to playing an electric keyboard, which doesn't happen often. Jan proved to be a great instrumentalist.”

If they could choose with whom to have their dream-collab musical collaboration, with any musician, living or dead, from our region or beyond, Jure would choose Dire Straits. The boys exchanged glances and agreed to choose a band together. At Nace's "Ready, set, go", they say "Buč Kesidi" in unison. "It would be great if we could collaborate with them," adds Kris. And I have to admit that I agree - that would certainly be their dream musical collaboration.

Since we learned all about their plans for the future, we were interested in what they remembered from the past. For example, memories of the craziest concerts that will remain in their memory forever. Jure recalls their performance at Belgrade Beer Festival. Before that, they had already visited Serbia, "but this was the first time after the performance at the Eurovision Song Contest. Even before we went on stage, we heard the crowd chanting "Joker Out" behind us. I couldn't believe what was happening. I think it was one of the best concerts.” Jan continues and highlights the Ruisrock festival in Finland and the Summer Well festival in Romania. "At both of them, we were also greeted with loud chants by an audience of approximately 8,000 people," he tells us, while the other band members nod their heads in confirmation. Kris also adds the performance at Exit festival in Novi Sad and recalls the feeling while watching the footage of that concert: "It's a particularly strange feeling when you see that endless sea of people, which you're not even aware of while you're on stage." "Yes." Jure agrees, "Some concerts really knock you off your feet. That was one of those." Bojan recalls another one: "For me, it was crazy at Wkrwglca in Sežana." The others join in laughing. They start listing who they were performing with that night. "MRFY, VAZZ live, Jet Black Diamonds... there were several Slovenian performers who we met again and the audience was really warm", Bojan recalls. "I felt like I was at one of those nostalgic college parties from the 80s that our parents used to tell us about."

(Photo: Vita Orehek)

We finally got to the topic of fans, and as soon as we asked if they could share any interesting or crazy fan-related stories with us, the guys went quiet and thoughtful. "People ask this all the time, and we still don't have the right answer," Kris notes, which prompts laughter from the others. We learn that they're always met by fans at the airport in Finland, where they have quite a large fanbase, and how much that means to them. Then, completely casually, they mentioned the voodoo dolls they had received as gifts. Tesa and I just looked at each other, we had to find out more. "They made dolls of all the band members in our Eurovision outfits. We actually got them twice, but they were only presented as voodoo dolls the first time," Kris explains with a laugh. Some band members still keep their dolls safe at home, while Kris, for example, doesn't even know where his is.

While they tell us about events from the concerts, like the one where Bojan's jacket was stolen or where they had a backstage in the middle of the forest marked only by tape around the trees, Tesa and I wonder if there is anything that fans still don't know about the band. There's silence again, and I can almost see them jogging their memories with serious expressions. Then they remember - they don't like making music videos.

Namely, it always happens by chance that they shoot music videos in winter, and in rooms without heating. Or, let's say, the fact that Kris has a talent for finding trashy music, or as Bojan calls him - "the best music editor for trashy music". Surely even the most loyal fans don't know that if they were to choose a name now, it definitely wouldn't be Joker Out. Some members of the band don't like the name at all, and Kris adds that it calms him down that his father doesn't like his band's name either, so they almost comfort each other by listing bands they know have a similar story with the name. Speaking of the name of the band itself, we were interested in how the name Joker Out came about. Kris starts the story and explains that it all started in a group chat where everyone actually met, and of course, at some point, like every band, they needed a name. Someone suggested the word "Joker". Since that word was not enough, they also added "Out". The proposal received three likes and the name stuck. Bojan continues: "I remember we were thinking then - if Ota Roš says our name in Pop In and if it sounds good, then it's the right name."

(Photo: Vita Orehek)

Through talking and evoking memories, we've gone way back, to the time before Joker Out was created. At the age of eleven, Bojan was in his first band called No Name, which lasted only a few weeks and played only one song, 'Tears in Heaven'. After that, he was in the band Apokalipsa, which disbanded when, as he says, he "stole" Jan and Nace¹ from other bands, and that's how Joker Out was born.

¹There has been a mistake in the original article. This should say: “Bojan "stole" Jan and Kris from other bands”, not Nace as originally mentioned.

If they had to single out their favourite or most important moment in their entire career, Jan would choose their first concert at Cvetličarna, because it seemed to him that it was then that he felt the turning point in the band's recognition for the first time. It was their first big solo concert, two in a row, both sold out. "Even if we played at Madison Square Garden now, I don't know if it would be as big a step forward as it was then. I don't think I'll ever experience that kind of adrenaline again." Nace points out that the breakthrough moment for him was the concert in Dublin, when they performed abroad for the first time and the audience sang the lyrics along with them. Jure, on the other hand, says that he will never forget the moment of entering the Eurovision final, when everyone sat together on the couch and nervously waited for the result. There was only one spot left when they were announced as finalists and the name Joker Out appeared on the screen.

Kris concludes that he could hardly single out just one moment, because the whole of the year 2023, along with the experience of Eurovision and the European tour, was the best year of his life. Bojan follows up on Jan's words and says that the concert in Cvetličarna was also a turning point for him: "I have never felt such sincere and pure happiness as after that concert, when I cried continuously for at least 45 minutes. I simply broke down under the weight of all the emotions; all the people I love the most were there with me and then, maybe for the first and last time, I felt like the best thing in my life had just happened. Then I also announced a concert at Stožice, which really came true."

(Photo: Vita Orehek)

I can't help but try to imagine what they were like almost ten years ago when they formed the band, thinking about what they wanted to play and what messages their lyrics would convey. Whenever I have the chance to look at young people full of enthusiasm, who really love what they do, I root for them inside. And that is even more powerful when I see how much they have succeeded. There's no doubt that Joker Out have come a long way, and who knows, maybe a very difficult way to get to where they are today. They're currently the most popular Slovenian band, whose songs are sung by fans all over Europe, posting covers of their hits or interpretations of their songs in their own languages on TikTok. If there's anything left of those teenagers, it's the positive energy between them, mutual jokes, contagious laughter and sincere friendship.

Also, they've kept that modesty which you can feel when they talk about their successes and milestones in their careers and the respect they have for each other and for their work. At the same time, I can't help but imagine where else their musical path will take them. With their music and visual presence, they are undoubtedly the messengers of their generation, and the feeling that great milestones, successes and endeavors are ahead of them is almost palpable. Therefore, I can only congratulate the guys on all their achievements and the new album and wish them a big – Carpe Diem!

(Photo: Vita Orehek)

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris guštin #kris gustin #jure macek #jure maček #source: vogue adria #year: 2024 #og language: serbian #og language: slovenian #og language: croatian #jo: all members #type: article

62 notes · View notes

thefreakandthehair · 1 year ago

Text

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 26th: Corroded Coffin | I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P. | Hopeful a/n: descriptions of anxiety & grounding, rockstar!eddie, supportive!uncle wayne, established steddie. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Corroded Coffin gets its first gig outside of Gareth’s garage on a random Tuesday in October 1985.

It’s a small place, a true hole in the wall, the exact kind of place Eddie Munson imagines James Hetfield might’ve seen back in Metallica’s earliest days. There are maybe five people in the crowd outside of the bartender and servers, but those are five more people than have ever heard them play before.

Jeff, Freak, and Gareth are goofing around backstage, tuning instruments, pushing and shoving playfully, the excitement palpable. Eddie wants to join in but his heart and his stomach seem to have swapped places. Nauseous, shaky, and terrified, he can’t bring himself to shake it off with his friends and finds himself sitting in the corner, back to the wall.

An apt metaphor, really.

He feels caged, stuck, panicked– a lion trapped in too small of a space if the lion was also secretly afraid of its one and only concrete talent being judged as not good enough by strangers.

“Alright, Ed, take a breath with me, okay?” Wayne appears out of nowhere, grunting as he sits on the grody floor next to Eddie.

A familiar, calloused hand gently pulls Eddie’s fingers out of his hair, a position he doesn’t realize he’s in until Wayne pulls him out of it. He turns to face his Uncle and breathes with him the same way he had as an anxious little kid before the talent show, as the new kid in school, as the now fledgling adult who still needs comfort, reputation and appearance be damned.

Eddie closes his eyes and lets Wayne squeeze his hand to cute inhalation and exhalation. One day, he’ll think to ask him where the fuck he got that from, but not today. Today, he needs to calm down enough to perform with his friends.

In. Out.

“Feelin’ better?” Wayne asks, patting Eddie’s knee with his free hand.

Eddie nods and lets his eyes flutter open. It feels like waking up as he adjusts back to the noise and light he’d managed to tune out. “I think so, yeah. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so scared as shit but yeah. Not okay.”

Wayne scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s your first show, Ed. ‘S alright to be a little keyed up. You’re gonna be fine though, just go out there and have fun with it.”

“You’ll stay for the show?” Eddie asks, a little more hopeful. Seeing Wayne in the audience during the talent show all those years ago set his nerves at ease. Seeing Wayne in the audience at The Hideout might do the same.

“Nah, figured I’d just stop by to talk you off the ledge and head on home. Of course I’m stayin’, what kinda Uncle do you think I am?”

Eddie and Corroded Coffin play their first gig to a crowd of about five drunks and one Uncle Wayne. It’s not perfect– Eddie trips over a microphone wire at least once and they each miss a cue here and there– but they finish to applause. The loudest of which comes from Uncle Wayne.

—

Over the years, Corroded Coffin ebbs and flows. When Eddie nearly dies, the band does too for a bit but, like Eddie, reanimates after some left dormant. The members stay the same, the name stays the same, the sound stays the same. What changes is the audience.

Apparently, the metal community is very interested in Eddie’s Lazarus-adjacent story coupled with wrongful accusations and a suburban witch hunt. Interested enough for the band to start getting noticed. The Hideout turns into The Vogue, and then the Old National Centre, and then the TCU Amphitheater. At each one, Eddie feels the same nerves he had at their first gig, and maybe even a bit more so now with his Upside Down injuries always at the back of his mind.

What if I pull something?

What if my leg gives out?

What if–

“Hey,” Steve whispers, leaning against the wall next to Eddie. “It’s gonna be okay, you know that, right?”

Eddie nods and chews on the piece of hair he’s pulled in front of his face.

He doesn’t know that, actually, but it’s not something he wants to rehash right now. Besides, Steve more than anyone can understand his running monologue more than most. He’d been there, been the one to carry him out, and since they started dating, has been the one to lull him back to sleep when the memories jar him awake.

But Wayne’s not here yet, probably stuck in traffic after leaving the factory early for the show, and Eddie doesn’t know how to prepare for a show without his guided breathing.

Every rockstar has a ritual, and that’s his.

“I know I’m no Wayne but, wanna try breathing with me?” Steve offers with a sheepish smile.

He nods again, still silent, and breathes. This time, softer hands holding his and cueing his inhalations and exhalations. It’s not the same, but it’s something. Enough to calm his racing heart to the point of words and with a shout from Jeff and a kiss from Steve, he takes the biggest stage he’s played yet.

Halfway through their set, Eddie sees movement in the corner of his eye and when he dares a glance, he sees Uncle Wayne standing next to Steve in his dusty flannel with a beaming smile.

The nerves disappear.

#steddie #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie month prompts #corroded coffin #rockstar eddie munson #myblurbs

221 notes · View notes

mrnightingale · 8 days ago

Note

Edwin and Charles are literally coded with red and blue “hero colors” in the series. This is why people draw them like that. They are also written to be the brain (Edwin) and the brawn (Charles). It is fine to be creative and write works that reverse the roles in order to be transformative, but knocking other people for writing them the way they are presented in series is not the take you think it is. P.S.- there isn’t any turquoise on that image of George’s eyes. Turquoise is far more vivid.

Dear anon,

I'm pretty sure both posts you're referring to start with the "unpopular opinion" caption. That's because I don't intend any of them to have the same strength as canon content or generally accepted headcanons, but as a funny thing I thought and I wanted to post it here, because I can, because this is my little corner of internet and I can share it here. I don't have much irl people to talk to about the show, so I post it here.

I think I was very respectful when doing so, but if not, I'm sorry. Language has this thing that leads to miscommunication. Unfortunately I don't know how to avoid language, I can't share the half-formed though from my head to yours. When I'm non-verbal I usually use my hands or head to indicate things, I can't do that online. I'm not blaming anyone who writes/draws them as fitting in those categories, because actually most people do so. Because these are the tropes they fit in. They're written to fit in categories so is marketable, that's how it works. I don't intend to ignore that.

My point wasn't against fandoms, but against the very clear tendency that media has been having the last few years. I think fandoms have the enough power to make, if little, a change in the course of action of things, but not only bc it's the fanbase that consumes this media, but because it's composed by artists. Talented people that actively put effort in perfect their skills to make something beautiful and worthy, for the sake of doing art about the things we love. That's why I love fandoms. It's people creating art about art, sharing it with other people that appreciate it. I think it's beautiful.

The other half of my point is because came from anime/manga fandoms who's majority were conformed by teens who don't give the characters the profundity they have, labeling them based on stereotypes, and basically don't see the complexities of the character. That's why I like the term "fictional people", it has more personality, in my opinion.

My little disagreement with this relies on the headcanons who reinforce said stereotypes, mainly in terms of romantic and sexual relationships between the characters, ignoring some important aspects of their canon relationship or personalities, only to make them fit in stiff roles of, let's said, dominance and submission, and that has to apply in every other aspect of the character life. Of course, not everyone does this, but it's something that I, personally, usually have in mind, so it's obviously reflected in my art. Bc irl people don't fit in labels. You might be smart in some things and don't know others, you might don't be physically strong but have agility or flexibility, you might be bad with people but have really strong connections once you get to know them, you might seem oblivious with some things but be sharp and clever with others. It's about contrasts. Ofc we don't know absolutely everything about a character, bc probably more of those things aren't even defined canonically, bc they aren't important for the canon story. But they're important to the fans, that's why headcanons exist.

That's why I like to give my versions of Edwin and Charles some attributes that defy said stereotypes (and also, most of them are based on the actors, historical fun facts or symbology I like to give them). For example, strong Edwin is bc George is stronger than Jayden, as you can see in some interviews... I think it was with Teen Vogue. I don't say Edwin is the brawn, bc as I said earlier, even if he might be physically strong he has a very strong reaction to trauma and he freezes, that's why Charles is the brawn. Even if I headcanon Charles being a geeky nerd, that doesn't mean he isn't the one who fights, and that Edwin has more of the academic knowledge they need to solve cases. It's just something I like to think about them to give them profundity and complexity in my mind, it makes them more realistic, at least to me. You don't have to like my headcanons, as well I don't have to like yours. And that's fine, we're a community, but we can think for ourselves.

And the turquoise bit, I don't know every word to describe every shade of colour between blue and green. I know some in Spanish, but not in English, and I didn't want to search the Pantone colour palette bc I'd be hours lost in Pinterest, and that's... Not ideal. I don't even know what specific shade of colour "turquoise" even is, that's why I used cyan, but cyan is too vivid so that's not the word either. I don't know what's the word to describe George Rexstrew's eyes, that's why exist a whole thread discussing it XD. But I don't like blue or green either, that's why I said turquoise. It's not all that serious, really.

#anon ask #dead boy detectives #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #my post #i didn't think someone would be so serious about my headcanons #but that's not even a problem. we can think different. that's alright.#but I'm really sorry if I sounded disrespectful or smth

8 notes · View notes

labellefleur-sauvage · 2 years ago

Text

Disneyland DILF

Summary: While on a family vacation to Disneyland, Elide discovers her husband Lorcan has been featured on the viral Instagram page ‘DILFS of Disneyland.’

When he claims not to know what a DILF is, Elide decides the best way she can explain it to him is to demonstrate what the F stands for.

For the wonderful and amazing and talented @headcanonheadcase! I've been teasing this Lorcan DILF fic for a while, so thanks for being patient with me! Thank you for being so kind and supportive, and I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Explicit. See AO3 link for tags.

Word Count: 4.9K

Read on A03

“Come on Jack, look over here! Look at Mommy! Come on baby, just give me one good photo!”

Whoever coined the idiom “herding cats” to describe an impossible task should have instead used something like, “getting your toddler to look at a camera for more than one second for a halfway decent picture.” The latter, Elide decided, conveyed more of the frustrating nuance that people were bound to face, even if it was a bit too lengthy of a phrase. Who even had enough cats to herd anyways?

“Lorcan, can you stop distracting him for one minute, please? I really wanna get a picture of Jack with Pluto. And can you fix his hair?”

Her husband stopped whispering whatever he was saying to their son. He looked up at Elide with a frown.

“I’m not distracting him - I’m just telling him how better dressed he is than every other kid here.”

“Well, maybe don’t do that,” she cringed, as a middle aged woman wearing a pair of Mickey Mouse ears with a gaggle of similarly dressed children behind her shot Lorcan and Elide a dirty look.

“And I think his hair looks good like this,” Lorcan went on, slightly tussling his son’s dark hair. “It looks effortlessly messy and windswept. Classic.” Jack agreed, as he grinned and clapped his pudgy little hands at his father’s compliments.

“He’s two,” Elide deadpanned. “He’s not going to be on the cover of Baby Vogue.”

Lorcan hummed. “Is that a thing? It should be, and Jack should be on the cover -“

She sighed; she knew when she lost her battles with her husband, rare that it happened. “One, two, three -“

Quick as a snake, Lorcan turned himself and Jack towards Elide’s phone and gave their biggest grins for the picture: Lorcan’s a small uptick of the corners of his mouth, his long, dark hair swaying in the warm breeze, while Jack grinned toothily at the camera.

“Oh, that actually turned out pretty good,” Elide said, slowly walking over to show the picture to Lorcan. “And Plutos is in the background, so I guess that technically counts.”

“Pluto’s the dog, right?” Lorcan asked, settling Jack back in his stroller.

Elide looked at her husband exasperatedly. “Yes, Pluto’s the dog. I still don’t understand how you know so little about Disney. It’s like you grew up under a rock.”

Lorcan shrugged as they set off at a slow pace down Disneyland’s broad Main Street and into the heart of the park. “Growing up in an orphanage and joining the military at 18 doesn’t exactly lend itself to having a pop culture filled childhood.”

“Disney transcends pop culture,” Elide muttered distractedly, pulling up the Disneyland app on her smartphone. “I know I should have quizzed you on everything Disney, or at least made you memorize the map of this place.”

“Where are we off to next?” he asked, looking over her shoulder at the map pulled up on her phone.

“Where aren’t we going? Big day planned. Jack loves Tigger so I want to head over to the Critter Country area so he can meet him and get some pictures together. I think we’d all like the Jungle Cruise - can you double check I packed the noise canceling headphones? - watch the parade, hang around in Toontown, depending on how Jack is doing, then end the day by visiting Sleepy Beauty’s castle. That’s been on my to do list since I was a little girl.”

Lorcan arched an eyebrow. “Is this Disneyland vacation for him or you?”

Elide pursed her lips. “It’s for all of us, you giant twerp. But what do you want to do? I’ll hang back with him if you want to go on rides or visit the Star Wars area.”

“I don’t need to do anything other than be with you two. Just keep me fed and I’ll go wherever you tell me.”

Elide grinned. “Smart man. How about we head over to Adventureland for the Jungle Cruise? I think he’d like the animals.”

“Lead on,” Lorcan said, wheeling Jack’s stroller around and following Elide further into the park.

The Jungle Cruise was a hit. Lorcan strapped Jack into his front-facing toddler carrier and held him the entire time, making sure his headphones were on and pointing out the different animals they saw, to Jack’s delight. Elide should have spent the ride taking in the sights around her - this Disneyland trip was truthfully perhaps more for her than for their son - but she couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on Lorcan.

Devilishly handsome didn’t seem like it did her husband justice. Nearly seven feet tall, with shiny shoulder length dark hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and rippling muscles that didn’t seem real, Elide knew Lorcan was a catch.

But what she adored even more about him was his personality: his quiet, understated humor, how loyal he was, his bravery, and his unending support for everything Elide put her mind to. He carried her weight - sometimes literally - when her disability became too much for her and she struggled to walk even with her ankle brace on.

Best of all, he was an excellent father. Before Jack had been born, he’d confessed to Elide that he was scared that he didn’t know how to be a good dad and he’d do something to traumatically mess up Jack’s life. She didn’t believe that for a second; she had full faith in him, and told him that repeatedly. The first time Lorcan held Jack after he was born was the closest Elide had ever seen him to crying.

And now here he was, willingly walking around the capitalistic hell that was Disneyland, all so his wife and son could have a picture perfect day. What a lucky woman she was.

“I think he really enjoyed that,” Lorcan commented after they collected their stroller from the front of the ride. He decided to keep wearing Jack in his front-facing carrier - “He’ll be able to see things better that way,” he reasoned - and Elide wasn’t going to complain, especially since seeing Lorcan carry their kid around sent odd little flutters throughout her body.

“He did,” Elide cooed, re-fastening Jack’s little velcro shoes so he wouldn’t kick them off. “I got a good picture of him looking at elephants.”

“Good thing he didn’t seem to realize what the lions were doing to that zebra.”

Elide shuddered. “Yeah, maybe some parts of this ride aren’t the best for babies and toddlers.”

“Where to next?” Lorcan asked. “Try to find Tigger and then lunch?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Elide said, kissing Jack’s cheek and squeezing Lorcan’s hand. “Want me to take the stroller?”

“You navigate, I’ll steer.”

She quickly learned Disneyland was much larger than the little map on her phone made it look. By the time they found Tigger and took dozens of pictures of an excited Jack with his favorite character, and let him burn some energy on a Winnie the Pooh playground, Elide’s ankle throbbed with every footstep she took. She hobbled to a sitting bench and watched Jack go down a slide before running back up to go down again and again.

“How are you doing?” Lorcan questioned, sitting down next to her on the bench.

“I may have underestimated how much walking we were going to do today,” she admitted, leaning down to rub her ankle.

“Want your brace?”

She grimaced. “Maybe not right now. I’ll try to wait until after lunch. Speaking of, I think Jack’s getting hungry and tired - want to see if we can find somewhere to sit out of the sun?”

They found a shaded and relatively quiet restaurant in the New Orleans area, and Elide sat at the table and put on her ankle brace, waiting for their food, as Lorcan walked around with Jack in the picturesque square outside the restaurant. She watched them contentedly as Jack toddled over a short railing into a flower bed and stuck his entire head into a bunch of flowers. Rather than pull him out, Lorcan crouched down next to him and started pointing out different flowers to Jack.

Sighing happily, she took a sip of her mocktail and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. Besides her ankle, the day was going perfectly.

“Mama! Mama!”

She opened her eyes. Lorcan was walking towards her with Jack on his hip, a bunch of bright flowers, dirty roots and all, dangling from his fat fist.

“He was very interested in the flowers, and I told him how much you like flowers too,” Lorcan said, putting Jack in a high chair as he thrust the flowers at Elide.

“Oh Jack, these are perfect,” Elide gasped, fighting the tears that had welled in her eyes and taking the bright arrangement from her son. She leaned down to kiss Jack on a chubby cheek. “Thank you so much baby.”

“Seems I’m gonna have to do better the next time I give you flowers,” Lorcan grumbled. “Not sure how I’m gonna compete with a fresh Disney bouquet.”

“I’m surprised no one came and shooed you away,” Elide noted, wrapping the bottom of the flowers in a napkin and tucking them in the stroller.

“Oh, someone did,” Lorcan confirmed nonchalantly. “Especially when Jack tossed a bunch of tulips on the ground. They didn’t seem to like us damaging park property, or something.”

“Lorcan!” Elide admonished. “You didn’t make someone miserable over some flowers, did you?”

No, I just stood up and I guess they thought better about trying to yell at me. Besides, it’d be well worth making anyone miserable if it made you happy.”

“Aw. That is so sweet and threatening.”

He winked and gave her a small smile. “Anything for you.”

They took their time with lunch and by the time they finished, Jack had fallen asleep in his stroller. Deciding to let him sleep, they staked out a shaded bit of lawn and sat down to watch the parade from a distance. Full of energy when he woke up, they leisurely made their way over to Toontown and got in line for the steam train ride.

“I can take him for a bit,” Elide suggested, picking a bench in the back of the train so Lorcan wouldn’t block anyone out. “You’ve been handling him a lot today.”

“I got him,” Lorcan said, sitting Jack on his lap. “You just sit and relax.”

Her husband had apparently designated himself as being on ‘Jack Duty’ all day, as he refused to let Elide even push his stroller or hold him, besides whenever she thrust her phone at Lorcan and asked him to take pictures.

“Is that safe, Lorcan?” Elide asked nervously after they had gotten off the train. Her husband had just thrown Jack onto his shoulders, giving him the best view in the entire park.

“Course,” Lorcan grunted, holding onto their son’s legs, his arms flexing as they walked towards Goofy’s Playhouse. “Just want to make sure he can see everything. He loves people watching, just like his mom.”

They set Jack down and he immediately ran into the bright, cartoon style house.

“He’s gonna sleep so well tonight,” Elide sighed happily.

“And we won’t?” Lorcan countered, an eyebrow raised.

“Good point. I’m glad tomorrow is a lazy day at the beach.”

By the time they dragged Jack away nearly an hour later, even he had come to the conclusion that he was ready to leave. Burying his face in Lorcan’s shoulder, he didn’t seem to mind stopping at Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Elide didn’t have the energy to go up and explore any of the winding passages and staircases, but Lorcan still took her picture everywhere she could go in the castle, juggling her phone in one hand and their near-sleeping son in the other.

“You could have put him in the stroller,” Elide said as they made their way back to their car, double and triple checking that they hadn’t lost anything in the park.

“That’s alright. Didn’t want to risk waking him up.”

Dinner was some fast food they picked up on the way back to their Airbnb. Jack picked at his food and didn’t fight them as they gave him a quick bath and Lorcan got him settled for bed in the small second bedroom of the condo. Elide showered and stepped into the master bedroom to find Lorcan laying on the bed reading a book.

“Did he go down pretty easy?” she asked, drying her hair.

“Oh yeah. Only made it a few more pages into The Hobbit before he passed out.”

“God, same kid,” Elide groaned, throwing on her pajamas and crawling into bed next to Lorcan, grabbing her phone and looking through the several hundred photos she and Lorcan had managed to snap that day.

Opening Instagram, she scrolled through her friend’s recent posts and videos - Aelin and Rowan celebrating their wedding anniversary, Manon’s rescue bulldog Abraxos officially completing training to become a therapy dog, and some professional pictures of Yrene, Chaol and their daughter - before she noticed a ‘Suggested for You’ account:

dilfs_of_disneyland

Elide snorted and scrolled away. How stupid and niche. It was probably filled with a few blurry creepshots of men at Disneyland, or a PR stunt of some kind for a movie or TV show or podcast. No, thank you. Elide had standards. She scrolled away.

On the other hand, she was on vacation; her standards could take a break. She scrolled back up and clicked on the account and was brought to a professional looking Instagram page:

DILFS of Disneyland: Welcome to the Happiest place on Instagram!

Apparently the account wasn’t niche at all - it had over 400,000 followers, and more than 1,200 posts, all featuring pictures of handsome men with babies and toddlers at Disneyland. Elide was stunned, scrolling through post after post after post of men with their kids at Disneyland, doing frankly normal things - pushing strollers, posing for pictures, eating ice cream and churros with their kids - but there was something… else, something more she couldn’t quite put her finger on that made these men extra appealing.

Not that she would ever admit this to Lorcan. Snorting, she scrolled back to the top of the page when she noticed a new post from today with an all too familiar face:

“WOW 😍😍 A DILF to beat all DILFS! Taking Tall, Dark and Handsome to a new DILF-y level!! #hotdads #dilfsofdisneyland #dilfalert #strollermeat”

There was her husband, in all his DILF-y glory from throughout the day: Lorcan walking with Jack strapped to his chest, Lorcan pushing Jack in his stroller, and even one from late in the day when Jack sat on Lorcan’s shoulders. Elide had to give it to the photographer on that one - his arms and chest looked absolutely ripped in the photo.

And the internet agreed. The post had only been up for a few hours and already amassed several hundred likes and over one hundred comments, all from women - and some men - going feral for Lorcan.

“Call the fire department, cuz I’m about to climb that DILF like a tree and get stuck”

“Hello Daddy😏😘”

“God bless this Disney DILF🙏🏻🙏🏻”

Elide couldn’t help but chuckle. She maybe should be concerned that someone had been stalking her husband at Disneyland but as she looked through the many comments bemoaning how hot and unavailable Lorcan was, she didn’t feel any anger for the people drooling over her husband. Her chuckle morphed into a full laugh, until Elide was snorting in laughter.

“What are you laughing at?”

Lorcan was staring at her, his brow furrowed.

“Your greatest fear has come true,” Elide gasped out.

Lorcan sat up. “Rowan got some stupid award he can rub in my face?”

“No, you’re internet famous. Kind of.”

“What?” he snapped, rolling on his side to try to look at her phone. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing bad,” she said, working to contain her laughter. “The internet says you’re a DILF.”

Lorcan stared at her blankly. “A what?”

“A DILF. You know,” she repeated, waving her hand like that would explain the acronym.

"What’s a DILF?”

Elide sat up on her elbows. “Wait, really? You don’t know what a DILF is?” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at Lorcan, studying him for any of his lying tells.

“Really. What’s it mean?”

“You’re thirty-four!” Elide exclaimed. “How do you not know what a DILF is?”

“Well, I’m not glued to my phone twenty-four seven -”

“Because your old flip phone doesn't have internet and you only have three people’s phone numbers.”

“Just tell me what it means,” Lorcan grumbled, pouting.

Elide snickered. “It means ‘dad I’d like to fuck.’ There’s an Instagram page devoted to dads in Disneyland, and you’re proving very popular.” She handed her phone to Lorcan and watched him read through the myriad of comments left on his pictures.

“Huh. That’s… interesting.”

Elide shrugged. “Maybe a little odd, but they don’t mean any harm by it. Just people admiring how hot and good of a dad you are.”

“And being a dad… makes me more attractive to women?”

“Oh definitely. There have been times when you’ve been so good with Jack I jumped you when we put him down for a nap. And seeing you today, holding Jack, playing with him…” she trailed off, biting her lip and sweeping her eyes down his body.

“Really? That gets you going?”

“Maybe,” she purred, crawling over to him and swinging her leg over him so she sat on his lap, “I could put on a demonstration of the ‘F’ in DILF, if you still need convincing.”

He grinned, trailing his big hands up her slim thighs. “I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner. That might help it… sink in.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, that won’t be the only thing you’ll be sinking into,” she murmured, leaning down to capture Lorcan’s lips against hers.

Lorcan’s warm hands grasped the sides of her head to keep her still as their tongues met. Elide sighed with pleasure. She could spend all night just kissing her husband, feeling his large body flex and shift underneath her, his hands trailing soft caresses down her body. His fingers dove beneath her sleep shorts. She was already wet. She gasped as his fingers trailed up and down her slit before plunging a thick finger inside her.

“Guess you weren’t kidding about getting turned on by me being a DILF,” Lorcan mumbled against her, nipping her bottom lip.

Groaning, she rolled off him and threw herself off the bed, tugging her clothes off. “Well, hop to it,” she breathed, laughing softly as Lorcan fumbled to get his pants and shirt off.

She took a moment to stare at his body: a strong chest covered with a smattering of dark hair that formed a dark line below his belly button, thick thighs that could crush a person to death if he needed to. And his cock. Thick, long, and perfectly proportional to his big body and which looked obscene next to Elide’s petite form.

Lorcan lay on the bed, absentmindedly stroking his cock as he looked Elide up and down. “Dad you’d like to fuck, hm?” He murmured. “How about I get you warmed up for a fucking?”

Elide shivered. “What do you have in mind?”

“I like the idea of… sinking into you.” He grinned lazily, and her belly tightened with anticipation. “Get on.”

He grabbed a small bottle of lube and coated his thick length liberally. She climbed on top of Lorcan and gasped as he spun her around and settled her over his cock, her knees bracketing his hips as she faced away from his face, towards his long legs and feet. She turned around to look at him.

“Just wanna feel you around me,” he remarked. Grabbing his cock, he pulled her down, letting her take him within her at her own pace.

Elide moaned. Even after all this time, she still needed to take him slowly, let him stretch out her inner walls. The lube helped immensely. She swirled her hips, taking an inch before withdrawing and taking another, then another, then another, Lorcan’s deep groans egging her on. Finally she sunk down fully against his body. She started to raise herself on her knees to start that intimate rhythm they both knew so well when Lorcan’s hands gripped her hips.

“Hold on,” he said, not letting her move. “Now that you’re here, I wanna enjoy this.”

“Were you not having fun before?” Elide gasped, feeling him twitch inside her.

“Oh, I was and still am,” he said, caressing her hips. “Just come back down and lean forward a bit - yeah, just like that.”

Elide blushed as she leaned forward over Lorcan’s body, grabbing his knees for leverage. She felt exposed and open as Lorcan hummed appreciatively, rubbing his hand over one of her ass cheeks.

“You take me so well,” he murmured. “I think this is a nice interlude before I fuck you. Just wanna feel you warming my cock.”

She craned her neck and gave him an annoyed look. This is not at all what she thought he meant by ‘warming her up.’ “And what about me?”

Lorcan raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that we ended up here because you get so turned on just by me being a good dad. Don’t I have a say in how I want to be fucked?”

“Well, I guess, but -“

“Then just sit there nice and pretty on my cock,” he soothed. “Don’t move though, just stay still.”

“Lorcan,” Elide squirmed against him. “I need -“

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you full in a bit,” he said distractedly, and Elide knew he felt her cunt clench around his cock ar his words. “I just wanna finish this chapter -“

She tsked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his book with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. “Just a few minutes.”

Elide sighed and turned her head back towards Lorcan’s legs, forcing herself to relax. She considered herself fairly adventurous in bed, and her and Lorcan had a very open and healthy sex life, but this was one thing they hadn’t tried yet. Elide didn’t see the appeal in cockwarming, but actually experiencing it, well…

Lorcan subtly shifted his hips and she felt his cock somewhere in her stomach. Cursing, she gripped his knees and made herself stay still. This wasn’t how she thought this would go. When she initially climbed on his lap she thought she’d suck him for a bit then ride him, or maybe bend herself over the bed so he could pound into her from behind.

But here she was, hypersensitive and aware of every little movement and touch from Lorcan, only a few breaths away from breaking and begging him to do something.

Which is probably why he did this. Jerk.

“I can hear you thinking.” She refused to turn around to look at him but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Just thinking how I actually wanted to fuck my husband, not stare at a wall with his cock stuffed in me,” she sniffed.

Lorcan laughed. “Ok, Ok, I get it. You’re lucky I’m done with my chapter.”

She whined as he lifted her off his length. She felt horribly cold and empty until he flipped her around on her back and kneeled in between her legs.

“That wasn’t even five minutes, just so you know,” Lorcan said, stroking his slick cock and glancing down to her red pussy.

“Bullshit,” she gasped as her husband gripped her thighs and hauled her towards him so her legs were resting over his hips. “Felt like an hour.”

He hummed. “I should fuck you for an hour, so you have a frame of reference next time we do this.” He laid a wide spread hand on her stomach and moved his hand up her torso.

“What a perfect little wife you are,” he whispered. Elide gulped; his hand covered nearly her entire chest, and his fingers graced the hollow of her throat.

“Please,” she gasped, licking her lips and shifting her hips to graze his cock.

“So tiny, but like you were made for me.” He looked down to where they were almost joined. His cock jutted obscenely out over her stomach.

“Is this what you imagined?” He asked, dragging the head of his cock over her clit before settling at her entrance. “When you told me that I’m a DILF, and how excited that makes you?”

Elide couldn’t answer, her eyes darting between Lorcan’s dark gaze and his thick cock so close to where she wanted him.

He squeezed her thighs. “Well?”

“Yes,” she said in a broken whisper. “Yes, I imagined you fucking me so hard -“

Lorcan pushed into her in one hard stroke and Elide lost her train of thought. Lost every thought she’d ever had, honestly, as Lorcan gripped her waist and set a hard pace.

Elide grabbed Lorcan’s forearms as he pounded into her, needing to feel even more of his warm body and to keep herself from moving around the bed with the power of his thrusts. She threw her head back at a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck Lorcan,” she groaned, aware that she couldn’t be as loud as she wanted with Jack in the room next door.

“God, you’re always so tight,” he grunted out, wrapping his arms around her thighs and hauling her lower half off the bed and further into his lap, letting him thrust even deeper inside her. “Feel so good. Is this hard enough for you?”

“Yes!” Her orgasm inched closer and closer. She reached down and started circling her clit rapidly. If he kept fucking her just like this, and she kept touching herself…

“I wonder how turned on you’d get if we had another,” he said, staring down at her intently. “You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me, would you?”

Lorcan didn’t get an answer as Elide came, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip to keep herself quiet. Warmth spread throughout her body as her orgasm traveled along her nerves, lighting her up from the inside. She was vaguely aware of a muffled groan above her and more warmth between her legs as Lorcan came.

He dropped her limp legs and bracketed his arms next to Elide’s head, careful not to crush her as he gave her a gentle kiss before rolling beside her. They lay in blissful silence for a few moments, each focusing on slowing their erratic breathing, when Lorcan let out a huff of air, then another, until he started chuckling.

“DILFs of Disneyland. How many likes did the post have?”

“Hm?” Elide mumbled, halfway to falling asleep.

“Were there a lot of comments on my post? I only saw about a dozen.”

“A lot of… what?”

“Any chance you can check your phone?”

She propped herself on one elbow to stare at Lorcan, brows furrowed. “What? You don’t know anything about Instagram or how it works.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “Of course I know how Instagram works. I browse it every now and then.”

“How? Your phone doesn’t have any apps!”

“The desktop.”

“Your old desktop computer?” Elide asked, flabbergasted. “I didn’t realize that thing still worked. And whose accounts are you looking at?”

“Yours, obviously.”

Oh. “Lorcan,” Elide said, grinning softly. “That’s so sweet -“

“And the DILFs of Disneyland page.”

The grin vanished from her face. “What.”

“Yeah, Rowan showed it to me when I told him we were coming here, and he said he and Aelin and their girl are planning a trip later this year. I bet him I could not only get featured on the DILFs of Disneyland Instagram account, but also get more likes than him if he manages to get featured too.”

Elide stared at her smug husband, slack jawed. “So the entire day you insisted on holding and wheeling Jack around -“

“Was because I wanted to spend time with him and so your ankle wouldn’t get sore and we’d have to leave early,” he said gently, bringing her down to lay on his chest. “But if it also meant there were lots of opportunities for me to look hot as hell while holding Jack, then that was nice too.”

“You self centered ass,” Elide said, lightly smacking his shoulder as Lorcan laughed. Elide couldn’t help but join in, shaking her head all the while.

“Well, what did you two idiots bet on?”

“Bragging rights and the loser has to get a shirt for the winner proclaiming them the official DILF of Disneyland.”

“If you somehow win, that will be a bedroom shirt only,” Elide warned.

“Definitely not. I’m gonna wear it around all the time. Get fucked, Rowan.”

“Then you’ll be the one to explain to Jack what a DILF is.”

“This is great,” Lorcan said, pointedly ignoring Elide. “As soon as we get back, I’m gonna email him my DILF pictures -“

“God, you’re such an old man,” Elide laughed, throwing herself dramatically on the bed next to him. “Living up to the reputation of dads being terrible with technology.”

“I make up for it in other ways, don’t I?” he breathed against her neck, his lips trailing past her collarbone and breasts and stomach and then even lower.

“Oh! Yes, I suppose you do have your strengths,” Elide mused breathlessly as Lorcan settled his head between her thighs.

Unfortunately for Elide, Lorcan received his DILF of Disneyland shirt from Rowan, and he gloated insufferably. Fortunately for her, though, Lorcan made sure to show his wife how he became a DILF, and she couldn’t walk straight for two days.

She had to give it to them: the DILFs of Disneyland account really was the happiest place on Instagram.

#elorcan #elide lochan #elide x lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #tog #my fics #my fic #this is so dumb #but i still had a blast writing it #also please someone have pity on me and teach me how to make better mood board things

149 notes · View notes

spiritusloci · 2 years ago

Text

The Flash Files: Folder 06

Brought to you by The Flash Gordon Archive of Howard C. Rushbourne in collaboration with Midjourney AI & The Friends of Flash Foundation.

Flash, Dale, Aura and Barin in a Disney promotional campaign for “Adventures at Intergalactic High: Senior Year” (2015)

Jeffrey Hudson (with roommate Gregory Kant), (1955)

Jeffrey and Gregory’s famous bachelor pad. (1955)

FROM THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER, 25 JULY, 1955

In this golden age of Hollywood, two dashing actors have caught the public's eye with their incredible talent and undeniable charm: Jeffrey Hudson and Gregory Kant. These two heartthrobs, best known for their roles as Flash Gordon the space hero and Buck Howard, (sheriff of Dustbowl in the TV series “Hardwood”), are two of the most eligible bachelors on the planet! Nevertheless, these two bachelors seem to enjoy spending time with each other just as much as they enjoy attending glamorous star-studded premiers with a beautiful starlet on their arm.

Their shared home, an elegant sanctuary hidden in the Hollywood Hills, is the epitome of style and sophistication. Decorated with tasteful, modern furnishings, the living room is a testament to their shared love for contemporary design. This warm, inviting space is where Jeffrey and Gregory spend countless hours discussing their craft, sharing stories, and enjoying each other's company and with close friends invited for a weekend getaway.

Will these best friends stay single forever or will they find that special someone to marry and call their own then finally give up their bachelor’s paradise?

Jeffrey Hudson and Gregory Kant (1955)

“Flash Gordon and the Happening on Planet Mongo” (1968)

Brian Morse as Prince Thun (1994)

Dorothy Thompson as Dale Arden in “Flash Gordon and the Invisible Phantom” (1951)

Dale Arden, Flash Gordon fashion photo spread for Vogue Magazine, (2021)

Kenneth Williams as Emperor Omipalone in “Flash Gordon and the Conquest of Planet Polari” (1966)

Emperor Omipalone and his henchmen, Julian and Sandy, “Flash Gordon and the Conquest of Planet Polari” (1966)

Williams controversially only spoke in Polari during the entire film leaving some audience members baffled and confused. Subtitles were suggested for some theatres, (especially those located outside of large metropolitan areas), but this proved difficult as Polari was fairly obscure even in the 1960s, (although it had come into more common consciousness through some radio broadcasts). Finally, a small company called “Bona Lingo” was hired from a little shop in Soho, London, which was able to provide the translations. The following is a sample of Williams announcing his plans for universal domination:

“As Emperor Omipalone, the villainous nanti-bona emperor of the cosmos, I've nattered to me palones and omies about me bijou plan to troll over the universe, naffing it up as I go. Vardering me lacoddy, all zhooshed up, and me basket well-crammed, I cackle to them, "Varder at me, omies and palones, we'll dish the dirt on all the other planets, scarpering their bijou dreams and turning them into a meshigener mess. We'll screech our Polari lingo from the zhooshy stars to the naffest corners, leaving chaos in our wake. Let's charper the universe together and make it bow before our wickedly fantabulosa reign!"”

Kenneth Williams as Emperor Omipalone in “Flash Gordon and the Conquest of Planet Polari” (1966)

Flash Gordon costume design by Jennifer Sonders, (1989)

#the flash files #midjourney 5 #gpt 4 #flash gordon #the howard c. rushbourne archive #the friends of flash foundation #parody

82 notes · View notes

taysdorothea13 · 1 month ago

Note

Since it’s canon that Wren grows up to be in the fashion world. When she’s a tween her and Taylor go to different fashion weeks over the years and she spends alot of time with her Aunt Gigi learning the ends and outs of the fashion world. Gigi gets Wren a sewing machine for her 10th birthday

taylor takes her to every single major city, even when fashion week isn’t happening, and they spend a week there just going to different designer stores and watching people on the street and taking in everything from their culture to their style influences. fashion week is a lot, and it’s subsequently a lot of media attention outside of just being overwhelming and high energy, but gigi pulls strings and gets wren and taylor in during rehearsals once wren really starts making her interest in fashion known. gigi and cara are all over that girl, gigi more than cara obviously, but if there’s an event that wren wants to go to and cara has strings, she’s pulling every single one because everyone knows wren has talent, and they’re going to pour into her cup the way she deserves. genuinely, taylor has always known she has an amazing village, but as wren grows up and really starts to hone in one specific interests and passions, it makes taylor emotional to see how eager her friends and family members are so support and nurture those hobbies. gigi gets wren a sewing machine for her birthday and wren spends hours upon hours figuring it out. there’s bleeding fingers and wonky stitches and a lot of frustrated tears, but when she eventually does finish the first project, she calls gigi immediately and even though the stitches aren’t perfect and there’s a little splotch of blood on the right corner where wren nicked her finger, gigi praises her and encourages her, and eventually that one little blanket that wren made becomes beautiful dresses and elegant suits and just the most beautiful pieces she’s ever seen, truly. nobody lies to wren. that’s the thing too. if she makes something, they’re going to praise her and encourage her, but nobody’s going to lie. gigi and cara especially because they know big fashion things. gigi will tell wren to focus more on a specific style, or cara will tell her to focus on certain color stories, and eventually wren doesn’t need their critiques anymore and they can’t think of any to give her. the first dress she makes that ever walks a carpet is made for taylor, but she has specific designs that are basically her signifier in the fashion world, and they’re all titled something sentimental. there’s the gigi dress, which she crafted to flaunt gigis curves and personality, and it has it’s own signature neckline. there’s the cara suit, which again follows the same guidelines, fitting a woman’s curves, personality, and having a signature cut. and there’s the taylor dress, again same rules apply. wrens entire brand is based on leaning into femininity of all regards. everything she makes she prides herself on maintaining female oriented thoughts and wants. if someone wants a lower cut neckline, wren sells a million options. if they want modest, a million options. if they want tight fitting, loose fitting, frilly, edgy, modern, vintage, wren makes it all, but every single one of her pieces is somehow so cohesive and beautiful and just breathtaking. it’s honestly astonishing. she’s so size inclusive, too. she becomes one of the youngest self made billionaires at twenty-four years old, and by twenty-five she’s flying out to paris fashion week for her own show. she’s in forbes magazine, and vogue, and elle, and taylor’s just so beyond proud of her little girl that isn’t so little anymore.

(wren doesn’t sell men’s clothing. her brand is for women, by women. but she makes travis a suit every year 🥹)

#[ 🪩⊹ ] — mailbox!#𐙚 — anon #;༊ — come morning light

4 notes · View notes

sandsorghum · 2 years ago

Text

Hollywood AU

With Oscars round the corner I wanted to explore a Movie Industry 'verse, featuring Screenplay writer Nanamin x Starlet Reader, with some messy Director Geto x Reader thrown into the mix cuz it's HOllywood so why not.

I don't have things fully fleshed out, this is only a drabble. It's just a fun little plot bunny I'm considering chasing down the rabbithole, so if you enjoy it, please leave some feedback! Thanks~

Nanami toes the line he's sketched in the sand - and you keep scuffing it. Because it is sand, not cement, as much as Nanami would like to believe that. The grains keep trickling through the hourglass, and his throat gets ever more parched around you.

He used to be able to call you to the side of a sound stage in between takes to murmur his corrections. Now he just scratches them out on a clipboard, cursing PAs and sticky notes that aren't at all adhesive.

"I miss you."

Glue floods his throat. Nanami glances at your reflection, eclipsed by a bevy of stylists coiling your locks into perfectly tight, period-accurate ringlets.

"Bunkering down in that cramped trailer, discussing stories. Have you seen Sangsoo's latest by the way?"

You catch sight of him in the mirror and smile, but someone tuts at you to "stay still". Nanami watches your lips go taut as the gloss swipes over, but he knows where to look. Sure enough, there's a matching shimmer in your gaze, locked in on his. Nanami swallows, his eyes dropping to the papers in his lap.

"Been too busy," he grunts.

"Right Now, Wrong Then remains my fav, but you should make your own assessment. I wouldn't mind seeing his new film twice. Maybe over the weekend, we could-"

"I'll be holed up with the rewrites. Studio's orders. I'm leaving your new lines here."

Nanami doesn't so much hear you sigh, as glimpse a small corner of the glass getting fogged up. He feels your stare slide from the rear view to his retreating silhouette as he turns and walks away from your pout, from the memory of a puff of air tickling his mouth.

Every day you seem more like a mirage, less an oasis.

But these are the desert dunes he's chosen to trek through, grounds ever shifting.

Framed by ink strands, jet stone irises cut across steepled ivory hands, with a gleam that renders the lamination of the page redundant.

[And would you like to address the rumours-?]

[Talent's drawn to talent. That's all.]

[The final say?]

[Your next soundbite - until another distraction from our craft comes along.]

The black and white portrait rustles, a splotch of darkness seeps over those eyes, coloured grey as the super-sized quote [DRAWN TO TALENT] is imprinted across the ravines of cheekbones and deep recesses of sockets, now thinned with text.

He's well aware of your history with Geto, the inaccuracies of the accounts on both sides, the way the two of you are the darlings of the gossip columns, as cyclical as the seasons and heroin chic coming back in vogue, appalling as it is.

"How's the fluff piece for our auteur extraordinaire? He opt for self-flagellating or self-fellating?"

So, trouble in paradise then, Nanami thinks.

He shrugs. "The box office'll be happy."

"Oh, hooraay. Praise be for the ultimate - nay, the only metric and arbiter of art."

"Nay?"

His tone is withering, but not enough to stop your belligerence from sprouting. Or spouting.

"Hey. Do you think I got where I am based on sheer luck, or looks?"

You're a few too many whiskey neats in.

"Clearly they weren't stumbling blocks," he says drily, gesturing for his refill. Normally you'd find his diplomacy coy. Now it's just tiresome.

"I expected more than this calibre of flattery from a BAFTA nominee," you sneer, fingers creeping along Nanami's taut wrist. He steadies his grip around his bourbon.

"I'm off the clock. You'll have to get your one-liners elsewhere. Union rules."

You lean in, the cloud of alcohol and your perfume shrouding Nanami.

"Such a stickler," you whisper, the taunt gusting warm and wet against his lips. Through the fog, just barely, Nanami telescopes in on the gleam of your maraschino-red mouth, the gimlet glint of your eyes.

Not chandeliers, but stalactites, the notion coalesces somehow, despite your distractions. Nanami's brain churns, scrambling for a deflective quip, only to short-circuit when he feels your other hand land on his thigh.

"You know, in these scenarios, the rulebook gets thrown out - if one even exists in the first place."

A rough palm clasps your hand, but your forehead brushes Nanami's.

"My point is, I don't give up. I always get what I want."

"Assuming you know what that is."

You freeze.

It's better this way, Nanami thinks, watching the shards twist in your eyes. There is still barely an inch between you and him, close enough for him to feel the breath and consequences you hold in the quiver of your lips. At arm's length, and a lifetime away.

At least like this, he has a front row seat to the fracturing story.

He was never meant to be the protagonist, let alone a hero.

"Are you really coming after me, or are you just trying to get away from Suguru?"

#nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sandsorghum

34 notes · View notes

lady-assnali · 1 year ago

Text

SOME sentences Sunday…SEVERAL sentences Sunday…you get the idea.

Have this baby model Crygi that wrote itself yesterday for my dear @thecollectionsof bc I’ve been really holding out on the Crygi lately and I can only say soon or one day so many times before I feel guilty for abandoning my children

———

Crystal shifts her weight between her feet as she stands in line, an exuberant smile on her face. She clutches a magazine close to her chest, occasionally glancing down at it. But she can’t look long, or she’ll lose it right here in the line at this local bookshop between the woman with five beach reads and the young mother and her child balancing stacks of Pete the Cat books in their hands. Instead, she concentrates her energy on living in the moment; the shop smells like robust coffee beans and the undeniable fragrance of books. The playlist is folksy and she recognizes the Noah Kahan song playing because Gigi had been singing it all summer after they’d taken a coastal weekend away just a month before. The trip had been a surprise, and they’d spent an entire day driving up and down the gorgeous, ritzy coastline of Massachusetts listening to lyrics about how everything’s alright when she calls me back. It couldn’t be more true.

Right now, Gigi’s in a timezone five hours ahead of her filming content for a brand Crystal has never heard of but Gigi absolutely idolizes. She’s been working like crazy, but the constant flow of it all has really helped her boost her name. She offhandedly mentions more than once that Crystal can even quit her just in case job now that Gigi has a steady following, but she hasn’t been able to do that yet. She doesn’t want Gigi to think she’s using her for her newfound money (even though they still bulk shop at Costco and get the cheap takeaway they like on Friday nights Gigi is home).

She gets to the front of the line and reluctantly lets go of the magazine, only long enough to let the cashier scan it.

“I don’t need a bag.” She waves her reusable tote in the air, but the magazine just goes right back into her hands. She holds the cover up for the cashier to see and in a loud, giddy voice she announces “This is my girlfriend.”

Gigi’s the front cover of Vogue, an idea she’d held on to since the start of her accidental modeling career and hadn’t stopped thinking about since. She’d told Crystal the moment she’d found out, sobbing on the phone in the middle of LAX. Crystal had met her at JFK with a bouquet of flowers and a sign that read Vogue cover model Gigi Goode.

Now, she gets to hold the magazine in her hand. Everything her girlfriend has worked so hard for in one binding of glossy papers. Well, two-Crystal’s bought one to keep and the other to cut apart so she can carefully frame the actual cover.

She’s absolutely mooning over the photo; Gigi, clad in a beautiful champagne colored dress that she’d made herself from something she’d gotten off the rack. She’d shortened it, added boning, and restructured the entire thing to turn it from Little House on the Prairie to Real Housewives (or something like that; Crystal’s still workshopping the joke). In the cover photograph the old dress hangs in the background like a ghost. The headline? Farewell, Fast Fashion.

“She made this dress.” Crystal points to the photo, turns around so the woman with the romance novels can see the cover too. “She’s so talented, and just the most beautiful soul you’ll ever meet. And this is just…it’s a lifetime of hard work.”

Crystal’s so close to crying now that she has to peel one hand away from her magazines to wipe at the corner of her eye, but she’s not embarrassed. She can’t feel anything but proud.

On her way out (after stopping to show a few other patrons of the book shop, pointing them to where they keep their magazines) she calls Gigi, who picks up on the first ring.

“My brilliant, talented, beautiful girlfriend, I have a copy of Vogue in my hands as we speak.”

On the other side of the phone, Gigi squeals.

“I haven’t seen it in person yet!” Crystal imagines her jumping up and down, her loose curls bouncing and her smile absolutely illuminating the room.

“I’ll send you a picture. It’s incredible, Geege. You look gorgeous. And I might’ve told everyone in the store that you were my girlfriend because I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe it, Crys. You’re stuck with me for life.”

They speak a little bit longer, Gigi reeling as the photos Crystal scoots over on the sidewalk to take of the magazine come through. It’s even better than she imagined, and she’s dying to see it in person.

“Two days!” She cheers. “One sleep! And then I’ll be home for weeks and we can cuddle and lay around and I can use my fancy Vogue money to take my girlfriend somewhere with the best dessert in the city.”

“Where’s that?”

Gigi laughs.

“I don’t know! But we’ll have two whole weeks to find it!”

#crygi #baby model au #six sentence sunday #where i truly never write six sentences and that’s okay

12 notes · View notes

mobscene-london · 1 year ago

Text

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Izabele Anasenko. AGE: 29. PLACE OF BIRTH: Kyiv, Ukraine. AFFILIATION: The Russian Mob. OCCUPATION: Supermodel. FACE CLAIM: Anya Taylor-Joy. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

“You’re really willing to sacrifice everything we��ve worked for to be with a man like him?”

Everything we’ve worked for.

That statement summed up her mother perfectly.

Even though Izabele had started out life in Ukraine’s largest city, her family had been far removed from any affluence it might’ve afforded others. Both her parents—a turbulent marriage that only survived as long as it did because neither could cope financially without the other—worked long days for little pay. The home in which they raised their three children was hardly large enough for one, and they barely had the funds to make the place habitable, let alone comfortable. Childhood should’ve been miserable. Maybe for her two brothers, it had been.

Izabele always clung to the positives, though—ever the perpetual optimist.

Even when her father finally left them to shirk the financial burden of his children, she had remained an impossibly good natured child. Izabele hadn’t cried when she wasn’t allowed to take dance lessons like her peers because her mother couldn’t afford them, nor did she become petulant when told there would be no feeding of an extra mouth when she found a stray puppy on the way home from school. Mostly, she stayed in her quiet corner, reading books her brothers stole for her, and contemplating how she would one day create a life for herself that was better than this. Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to solve anything. Her parents had proven as much.

Izabele had only been fourteen years old when she’d been spotted by a talent scout whilst out in the city with her mother. There was no denying that she’d always been uniquely beautiful. It was about the only thing she was ever complimented on; a disappointment for a girl who worked so hard at her education, and even more so, to be a kindness to others that hadn’t always been offered to her. Izabele didn’t really understand what being a model was, nor did she much like the people they were dealing with, but her mother swiftly took control of the situation, and made the decision for her. Back then, she’d liked to think it was because her mother believed in her, but the reality was, her mother believed she could make money for her.

The connections in Ukraine felt shady, and the situations she found herself in were uncomfortable, but her mother insisted she was being delicate, and that she had to persevere if she wanted to move on to bigger and better things. Izabele didn’t, though. All she wanted to do was go to school.

For years, her mother paraded her around like a material possession to be bragged about. When they broke into the world of fashion, though, things became a lot more palatable, and Izabele started to embrace that she was genuinely very good at what she did. The young girl graced the cover of Ukrainian magazines, and became one of the most sought after models for teenage fashion lines. Then, aged sixteen, she finally had her big break when she found herself at Paris Fashion Week, walking for an up-and-coming designer who would unknowingly shoot her fame into the stratosphere. Izabele stood out; natural talent, looks, and a gentle nature that made her easy to work with. The rest came in a flash so quick she barely felt present for most of it.

By the time Iza was eighteen, she’d walked for the likes of Givenchy, Chanel and Balmain in cities across the globe. She’d been on the cover of three different editions of Vogue, had been the face of a Dior campaign, and had been invited to awards ceremonies and movie premieres as though she were a star. The young girls of the world had become infatuated with the media’s portrayal of her. Social media was inundated with feel-good stories about what she’d achieved whilst coming from humble beginnings, and in the big cities, she couldn’t go outside without being recognised by somebody itching to be close to fashion’s next big thing.

At the absolute peak of success, she’d horrified her mother—who thankfully no longer had any control over what she did with her life—by deciding she wanted to take a break from her career. Izabele loved what she did enough not to want to give it up entirely, but she was also a realist. Spotlights faded, and this whirlwind wouldn’t last forever, and that was precisely why she wanted to pursue education like she’d always aspired to. Using her fame—because even if she was more than bright enough to be worthy of a place, that wasn’t how it worked at prestigious institutions like Belmonte University—she managed to secure a place studying literature in Launceston.

School came easily when she loved the subject as much as she did, but a degree wouldn’t be the only take away from her time in the city. Cressida Baryshnikova—or Berkeley, as she had been back then—had become her best friend as easily as if they’d been born to meet each other. A chance run-in at the library had not only delivered her someone she could finally trust to have her best interests at heart (a world away from the fickle friends she made in the modelling world) but also an unexpected connection to the man who would eventually become her husband.

Mikhail Vorshevsky.

At first, she didn’t quite know what to make of him. The Vorshevsky name was well known back in Kyiv, and apparently, even more so in Launceston. Never for good reasons. It left a bad taste in her mouth when she’d always had a particularly strict moral compass. But he was Cressida’s good friend, and Izabele always found it difficult to say no to the people she cared about. So, with no intention of disguising her reluctance, she agreed to go on the double date.

“You could have any man in the world, and you’re going to marry the son of a mobster? The brother of a Russian politician? Imagine what this will do to your reputation, Iza. Your career!”

Izabele wasn’t sure what she’d expected from Mikhail, but it certainly wasn’t to fall head over heels in love. To eventually have to sit her mother down and tell her she’d be leaving the new life she’d made for them in New York, and staying in Launceston to marry a man that somebody with as kind a soul as hers should’ve ran from.

Her mother was furious. Cut off all contact until Dmitri was born.

By that point, it was too late. Izabele continued to send enough money to her mother that she might live comfortably, but she and her brothers had a new life now, and it was healthier without her.

Whilst she could never wrap her mind around the idea of her husband—a man she truly adored, and who adored her in return, more than she ever thought possible—was involved in organised crime, she was wiser than to ask too many questions. The same couldn’t be said for her best friend and her husband, however, and Izabele learnt more about Vorshevsky dealings because of that than she’d ever wanted to. Perhaps a case could be made that she was just as bad as the people involved for being willing to turn a blind eye, and maybe she felt that guilt some mornings, too, but to her, he was perfect. Treated her with respect and kindness, and was such a wonderful father it made her soul happy just to watch him with their son.

Motherhood is still relatively new to her, but eventually, now Misha has moved their family to London, Izabele is hoping she can find a way to juggle it with a return to a modelling world that has vocally missed her. Surprisingly, her celebrity status has stood the test of time, in spite of her mother’s warnings that her choice of husband would blacklist her. Being married to a Vorshevsky brings with it a whole other spotlight of its own, however, and now they’ve left the Russian stronghold of Launceston, even she is beginning to wonder if her husband’s business—a world that she’s tried so hard to ignore for so many years—is finally going to force her to pay attention.

Izabele will always love him, in spite of the things he does. There is nothing he could do that would change that. But she can’t help but wonder whether this move is going to put both him and their small family in more danger than they can outrun.

And that scares her.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Mikhail Vorshevsky (husband) FAMILY: Dmitri Vorshevsky (son, unplayable), Borys Anasenko (brother), Vasyl Anasenko (brother, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Cressida Baryshnikova: Best friend. Being married to a mobster is difficult, but she's glad that her best friend in the world fully understands it. Whilst Izabele is the kind of person who attracts many friends, the relationship she has with Cressida is different. They're practically family. Even before they became the couples that did everything together, they were joined at the hip, and despite their very different personalities, Iza would be absolutely lost without her.

Andrei Baryshnikov: Good friend. Even though he's a little rough around the edges, Izabele loves him dearly. Their two families spend so much time together, it'd be difficult not to. Whilst she hopes Mikhail can placate him somewhat for Cressida's sake, whenever he's with the girls, he's a gentleman, and that's the side of Andrei she has grown to adore. Mostly, she's grateful to know that her husband has somebody so loyal watching his back out there.

#russian #anya taylor joy #izabeleanasenko #taken #takenf

7 notes · View notes

sunjaesol · 2 years ago

Note

#12 and #14 for the kiss prompts? :)

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss + 14. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

(secret dating + celeb au)

Her phone had been exploding by the time she woke up. Her personal phone, which meant personal issues, which meant her stomach churned with nausea before she drank her morning coffee.

Her alarm clock indicated it was seven am. Ten am in New York, her brain calculated, and she itched to text Luke about his morning. But if she grabbed her phone, she'd have to be confronted with whatever was going on.

Taking a steadying breath, she pushed herself upright, wiping a curl from her cheek, and unlocked her phone.

Shit.

Flynn sent her a link to a tabloid that broke the news, to which other publications quickly picked it up. Or rather: gossip. They had no actual news. Julie harrumphed. She hated the tabloids and those teenybopper papers; she knew it boosted her popularity, but she also wished they stopped existing altogether.

Luke and her hadn't even noticed the paparazzi, or fan, taking the picture. They had foolishly presumed no one cared about pedestrians in New York, so by extension, them as well. Luke lived bicoastal and rarely got approached on the East Coast.

But they pushed their luck.

The other texts were from her management, her P.A., her record label, Carlos, Carrie, Reggie, Alex, and Luke. She skipped all of them to reply to him first.

Luke: are you okay???

Julie smiled. Of course, he wanted to make sure she was okay first. She hadn't checked the comment section under the Teen Vogue post yet, but she imagined several were nasty towards her. Luke Patterson was the sexy golden boy after all, the one that revived punk and headlined festivals all summer long.

Not that she wasn't talented, too. Julie was just... quieter, she supposed, a presence felt but not as boisterous as Sunset Curve. Pop ballads were her forte.

She texted a response. yeah, i'm fine. surprised though. i didn't realise we were being watched. how are you feeling?

He read it immediately and replied. kinda relieved?? is that bad to say??? i wanna show you off jules

The singer rolled her eyes. It was no secret that Luke fell first and harder for her, which showed in all his actions. Deeply physically affectionate, always showering her in compliments and hyping her up, and saying stuff like this: wanting to show her off. It sounded so boyish.

A public relationship was the last thing she wanted, however. It never ended well. So many celebrity couples broke up, or got divorced, while in the public eye and indirectly forced fans to pick a side when it was none of their business. She wasn't intending on breaking up with Luke any time soon, but she didn't want to entertain the public's fantasy in the first place.

This photo wasn't helping.

Albeit not incriminating - they were just talking - it did add to the pattern people were noticing between them. Both were 'single', conventionally attractive, around the same age and in the same industry. It made sense. Stranger assumptions have been created.

Luke sent another text. i'm back in la tonight. catch up tmw morning?

Logically, she should say no and wait for the rumour to die down. In reality, she wanted to see him all the time, and so she agreed and sent a cute selfie with a thumbs up.

~*~*~*~

She noticed him immediately. A twill hat, sunglasses, a vintage t-shirt and cargo pants, hopping on his heels while he waited for her outside a brunch spot. Julie willed herself to not speed up and grab someone's attention, keeping her face in check when he caught her eye.

"Hey- oh!"

Luke snatched her hand and dragged her into an alleyway in between the brunch place and a laundromat. Grinning, he got rid of his glasses and swooped down to kiss.

Julie gently clasped his cheek, enjoying the moment. Yesterday, she was so afraid everything was ruined, their careers and their relationship. Now the kiss stilled her thoughts.

"Hey," he exhaled. "You look nice."

The compliment widened her smile. "Thank you."

Luke and Julie met at the afterparty of an award show. She had won Best Pop Album and his band won Best Alternative Music Album. The entire night, they drank champagne and giggled about the weird sides of the music industry, lamenting about snobby producers and reminiscing the greatest venues. They exchanged numbers and the rest was history.

He just got her, in a way no else did. Though he had a totally different personality, they shared the same norms and values. She was, like, kind of in love with him. A perfect smile did that to a girl.

"How was the rest of your trip?" she asked.

His mouth twitched, gazing at her in that overwhelming, fond way. "I missed you. The boys are so done with me."

Julie laughed. "I can imagine. And I missed you, too."

The hands on her waist tightened. "Explain to me again why no one can know?"

"It's not that 'no one' can know. Everyone in our close circle knows. I just don't want the public to put their noses in our business. But... I didn't think it would be this hard." Her eyes averted to the dirty asphalt. Even their shoes matched. "I don't... I don't want you to feel like I'm ashamed of you, or something."

An incredulous chuckle left his lips. "Jules, the only thing I'm feeling is luck, okay? Trust me. You-" He paused. She looked up to find him struggling with his words. That never happened.

"Luke?"

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he rushed out.

Oh. That was kind of like a love confession, wasn't it? Before she second-guessed herself, Julie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, humming in delight when he responded just as intensely. His thumbs pressed in her hipbones, raking down her bum and up her spine. It felt desperate. More than a 'hello' or 'goodbye' kiss. It felt like a promise. And they refused to let go of it.

His mouth was hot against hers. Ragged breaths shared when they separated for split seconds before chasing the other again. With Luke's back pressed against the brick wall, she felt powerful, and wanted, and happy.

This was insane, making out like this in an shadowy alleyway in broad daylight, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Because he was one of the best things that has happened to her as well. She got it now. The thought of someone else shooting their shot with Luke made her ill, to the point that hard-launching Luke on her socials just once to get it over with sounded rather appealing.

Damn it.

Pressing her hands into his shoulders, she let go and took a deep breath. Luke stared at her, dazed and puffy-lipped, with messy hair. She felt like a frenzied high schooler that just made out for the first time.

"Um," she trailed, blinking, "let's... let's go eat."

He shook his head with a laugh. "Yeah, sure." Luke placed the sunglasses back on his head and went to move back into the daylight, but Julie grabbed his bicep before he could.

"And after," she added, nervous, "I'll... announce our relationship on my socials. Because you're really important to me, too."

~*~*~*~

send me a kiss prompt for juke

#i read hidden corner and immediately thought about a regal au where the princess and her guard kiss in the shadows of an alcove but #i went with this instead lmao #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #kiss prompts

44 notes · View notes

silviascorcella · 1 year ago

Text

Caterina Gatta p/e 2020: nell’archivio c’è la fonte della bellezza futura

“Di una cosa ero sicura, non volevo fare la fashion designer”: suona curiosamente paradossale pronunciato da Caterina Gatta, che con la sua moda di giovane e talentuosa stilista, è sempre felicemente riconoscibile perché non è mai stata imitatrice né debitrice di estetiche standardizzate e massificate, vero? Difatti, l’unicità è una dote che accade raramente: ovvero, quando le creazioni sono una combinazione non solo di grande passione e bravura sartoriale, ma anche di una dedizione profonda per la ricerca agganciata ad un senso del tutto personale della bellezza, e di un istinto rispettoso che va oltre il mero fascino dell’estetica, per andare a conquistare e condividere il valore prezioso della cultura che tramite l’estetica si esprime.

Ecco, Caterina Gatta nel mondo del suo brand, che con lei condivide anche il nome e cognome come fosse uno specchio che ne riflette tutto il ventaglio di bellezza, esercita proprio questa combinazione pregiata. L’ha fatto sin dall’inizio del suo percorso di giovane promessa del fashion italiano, e lo riconferma tutt’ora nella collezione s/s 2020, che del suo percorso è anche una rinfrescante sublimazione.

A ben vedere, forse il segreto di Caterina Gatta e della sua moda potrebbe essere raccolto proprio nell’essenza di quell’affermazione: che, badate bene, non ha nulla di perentorio né altezzoso, tutt’altro! Anzi, è per l’appunto l’incipit spontaneo del suo itinerario poliedrico e generosamente curioso nella moda: che al fashion design approda come fosse il contenitore professionale perfetto dove raccogliere e esprimere le illuminazioni scoperte durante il percorso. Che inizia con lo studio in Scienze della moda e del costume, mescolato ad esperienze lavorative assai eterogenee, cioè l’esperienza in un negozio vintage, lo studio dei diamanti presso un azienda import export, lo stage in America come associate new business per un agenzia di PR, l’assistente di una giornalista durante le fashion week di Milano e Parigi. Esperienze diversissime, ma che già custodivano il fil-rouge che da lei, e del suo brand, è tanto amato: l’amore scoccato per i tessuti vintage appartenuti alle grandi griffe che del made in Italy son state pietre miliari per eccellenza di qualità manifatturiera e per meraviglia di creazione estetica.

Una scintilla scoccata con l’incontro casuale di un tessuto vintage firmato Irene Galitzine, da cui Caterina Gatta aveva avviato una collezione personale: oltre un centinaio di stoffe splendide, provenienti principalmente dai favolosi anni Ottanta e Novanta appartenute, tra gli altri, a Gianni Versace, Mila Schön, Valentino, Ungaro, Yves Saint Laurent , Givenchy, Fausto Sarli, Lancetti e molti altri. Una collezione presto divenuta ispirazione per il suo progetto di moda.

È il 2011 quando il progetto di Caterina Gatta riceve la benedizione di Franca Sozzani e Sara Maino per la partecipazione al ‘Vogue Talents corner’: aveva ragione Caterina, a voler creare abiti dall’appeal contemporaneo a partire da quelle stoffe testimoni di una bellezza unica e irripetibile, profondamente italiana e straordinariamente creativa.

Da quel momento il brand è cresciuto e maturato, naturalmente: si è anche ampliato a collezioni dove i tessuti sono ideati e progettati da lei, con un’evoluzione naturale della ricercatezza divertita dei motivi stampati a dar forma a silhouette squisitamente attuali.

Ora, per la p/e 2020, Caterina Gatta torna alle origini con consapevolezza entusiasta: torna al suo archivio prezioso di tessuti vintage, materia prima il cui valore è anche nel gesto, a suo modo ribelle e salvifico, di riportarli nel nostro presente e plasmarli in creazioni sartoriali perfettamente contemporanee, perfettamente coerenti con il gusto di Caterina Gatta, fatto principalmente di appiombi netti e linee asciutte come base solida su cui costruire volant plastici, gonne a corolla che sbocciano con brio pop, tagli fendenti che aprono geometrie affacciate sulla pelle, silhouette anch’esse felicemente caratteristiche del brand come la tuta pantalone con i volant appoggiati sulla vita e gli abiti imbottiti con la tundra di seta e organza tripla, dove per fare un mini abito servono più di dodici metri di seta pura.

Restano intatti i giochi di accostamenti e sovrapposizioni di colori vividi e stampe che sembrano sottratte a opere d’arte: resta intatta la creatività libera, assieme alla passione per l’arte in connubio con la moda.

Forse Caterina Gatta ha ragione: se avesse voluto fare la fashion designer, non avrebbe tracciato un viaggio così personale e intenso!

Silvia Scorcella

{ pubblicato su Webelieveinstyle }

#Caterina Gatta #nuovoartigianato #nuovomadeinitaly #modaindipendente #modasostenibile #sostenibilità #nuovitalenti #fashion writing #webelieveinstyle

5 notes · View notes

modernmanblues · 2 years ago

Text

chances

CH 2: VOGUE PT. II

plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she’s presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I’m Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn’t know is how much trouble she’s about to get herself into with the group’s beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.

themes: a whole lotta fluff 🍦, some flirting, musicians? models? why not both?, a little taste of 10cc talent, curious Eric, concerned Eric, begging, begging, lots of begging, flustered Leah a/n: The much anticipated sequel to Chapter 2 pt. I! The boys finally get their beauty shots in this concluding chapter and I threw in some extra stuff to spice things up.

“I hope you fancy this tune as much as I do.”

The Canon F-1. With its slick black finish, solid body, portability and relatively user-friendly settings, it is the perfect camera for the fastidious photographer. I received this camera as a birthday gift from my father last year, and it has since become my trusted companion. I diligently study the device. Even though I had checked earlier to make sure there is a new roll of film in place, I perform another check for good measure. I unlock the back compartment and gander at the film–it is undamaged, secure and ready for use. I only snapped a few photos earlier, so I should have an adequate amount of film remaining. I proceed to close it then take out my external flash device and mount it on the camera accordingly. I was being proactive the night before departing for this trip and had attached the appropriate lens I intend on using so it would be one less thing for me to worry about. I bring the camera strap over my head and allow it to rest along the back of my neck. For my peace of mind, I check to ensure that the strap is securely fastened to the device itself–with the camera strap attached, I can freely move about without worrying that I will drop the device. I’ve learned this from past mistakes.

I hoist myself up off the floor, clutching my camera and gracefully marching over to the stage where the men have congregated. I begin to pace along the perimeter of the stage, smiling as I heed their indistinguishable banter. Oh the joys of trying to understand men with silly accents..

I pause along center stage and turn my attention to Lol, who is scrupulously combing Eric’s hair with his fingers. I bring a hand over my mouth to hide my amusement at this fascinating interaction.

“Ouch! Lol stop it, you’re hurting me!” Eric scowls at Lol, dodging Lol’s grip as he attempts to grab a hold of his hair.

“Oh Eric Stewart, how could I ever tire of touching your long, silky smooth hair?” Lol speaks in a feminine tone, a seemingly exaggerated imitation of a woman smitten by a charming man. He bats his eyes jokingly at Eric.

Eric playfully rolls his eyes and chuckles, “you’re mad, Creme.”

“Mad for you, Eric Stewart.” Lol grins widely at Eric, gently patting his back.

Eric whispers into Lol’s ear and the two chuckle. Their faces are beaming. Eric smiles timidly, seemingly deep in thought. He brings his head down, his bangs falling gently over the corners of his eyes. Lol follows Eric with his eyes. He smiles genially at him, his dimples growing more prominent. I swiftly turn the flash off the camera and quickly zoom in on their faces and snap a picture. And they barely even noticed..With my impressive muscle memory, my thumb immediately clicks the advancing lever to rotate the film.

I glance over at Graham and Kevin who appear to be mindlessly fiddling around with their instruments. I stroll casually towards Graham and Kevin’s side of the stage and observe them keenly.

Graham flawlessly transitions from tuning his bass to fiddling with his instrument, skillfully producing a random tune–a tune I can hardly recognize, but one with a catchy rhythm. I take the opportunity to make small talk with him.

“Hi. Would you mind playing me something?” My lips twist into a smile off the corner of my mouth as I gaze up at him. This is a little business tactic I’ve acquired from years of doing photography: get them to be comfortable around you then strike while the iron is hot!

Making small talk with each of them will allow me the chance to familiarize myself with their personalities and establish some sort of rapport with them. I find that this is the best way for me to build a trusting relationship with my clients, no matter how long or short our working relationship is.

My intention is to make this a comfortable atmosphere for everyone. For Graham, Kevin, Eric and Lol. I want them to be genuine, raw, unashamed and confident around me. I speak from experience when I say that the best candid shots I’ve ever taken are the ones where my clients go about their business without regarding my presence. This is what I hope to achieve with these boys today.

Graham gives me a smug look as he flips his gorgeous curls, “well what do you want to hear?”

“Surprise me.”

“Ok. But you have to tell me the name of the song afterwards.” he chuckles, smirking at me.

“Fair game.” I retort with confidence. I am by no means a musician. But I’ve been exposed to them enough to be able to recognize certain bass lines and guitar riffs common in today’s popular music.

Graham begins to pluck away at the opening bass line. I attend with patient ears, while simultaneously being mindful and prepared to capture his best picture perfect moments. At this point in time, I cannot pinpoint which particular song he’s playing the bass line of, but I give him a moment to build up to it.

I take this opportunity to appreciate Graham’s features once again now that we’re in a more intimate setting. His sleepy eyes are fixed on each fret his expert fingers land on. He plays rather effortlessly yet diligently, ensuring not one chord is missed. He gazes studiously at each fret of his beloved instrument, knowing fully well he could quite possibly hit each chord perfectly without having to gander at his fingers. However, he maintains modesty in displaying his talent–a rather admirable attribute. My eyes fixate on his prominent jawline. I notice the way he clenches his jaw ever so subtly as he focuses on his task–a seemingly typical male mannerism that never fails to instill strong emotions in me. His thick, jet black curls show lustrous against the studio light. I never thought lengthy eyelashes could suit a man, but dear Graham has clearly defied all odds.

With his eyes planted on his instrument, I take it upon myself to begin capturing his visuals. I turn the flash on this time and zoom in on his face. Gorgeous boy. I snap a photo and quickly move to his right to get him from a different angle. I kneel on one knee and zoom my camera out slightly to capture him and his bass. I snap another image. He’s barely flinched. Impressive.

My teeth sink into my lower lip to stifle a smile as he glances at me off the corner of his eyes, his lips twisting into a bashful smile. I snap another photo. Perfect.

It dawns on me suddenly which song this bass line is from, and I somehow find myself singing along to the tune under my breath.

“He got hair down to his knee..got to be a joker he just do what he please.” I chant under my breath, humming the tune in between words.

Graham pauses suddenly and beams at me. “You’ve got a nice voice.”

I feel my face growing a bit warm. I chuckle nervously, a feeble smile breaking across my face.

“Thank you..sorry I..I got carried away.”

“That’s quite alright, no need to apologize. Your voice..it’s really nice,” he smiles at me boyishly, “so, you know the song then?”

I roll my eyes playfully at him, twisting my lips into a smile. “Did you have to go with a Beatles song?”

“Mm..you haven’t answered my question. What’s the name of the song?” he raises an eyebrow, giving me a smug look.

“Do I get anything in return? You know, for identifying the song correctly?”

“Are we just chopped liver, then?” Eric strolls across the stage with Lol following behind him. He places his elbow over Graham’s shoulder, gazing at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s you again..” There is gross sarcasm in my tone. I playfully roll my eyes at him and peel away from his gaze. I suddenly find myself placing a hand over my mouth to hide my nervous smile.

“Mhm, it’s me again. Something the matter with that?” Goodness gracious, why is he such a..boy? A pretty boy at that.

Eric strides over towards me and leans his hands against his waist, smirking at me. “Anyways, I thought this was a 10cc photoshoot, not a Graham Gouldman bass extraordinaire photo spree, hm?”

“Graham Gouldman bass extraordinaire! Eric, have you gone mad?!” Graham cackles boisterously.

“He’s not just mad, Graham, he’s a bloody lunatic!” Lol chuckles, shooting a glance at Graham and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shush, enough from the peanut gallery over there.” he cranes his head over towards Lol and Graham, his lips twisting into a boyish smile, then he shifts his head back to face me.

“Well you seemed a bit busy doing whatever it was you were doing so I figured I’d leave you to it.” I cross my arms, pouting my lips. My eyes are now fixed on his.

“Oh is that right? Or maybe that’s your poor excuse for wanting me to come to you instead.” he maintains his smug facial expression.

“Geez Louise, are you always this annoying?” I chuckle nervously, maintaining a fixed gaze on him as I await his response.

“Ohh..so I’m annoying now? Very well then. I guess I won’t be needed in this photoshoot. Now, if you’ll excuse me–”

“Would you stop it? Now, why don’t you play me something? Graham did a beautiful rendition of Come Together on his bass. I want to hear from you now, Eric.”

“Say please?” he pleads with his eyes.

I march gracefully towards him and crane my head up to face him. My face breaks into a jovial smile as I gaze into his enchanting eyes.

“Pretty please?” I bat my eyes jokingly at him.

“I like the sound of that.” he smirks, then proceeds to march towards center stage.

Eric quickly tunes his guitar and fiddles around with some random chords before immersing himself into a song.

He glances at me from the corner of his eyes, his face beaming. He proceeds to speak into the microphone to render a speech.

“Thank you, Strawberry crew. I would like to dedicate this next number to our esteemed guest, the lovely and talented Ms. Leah Walker,” he chuckles, “I hope you fancy this tune as much as I do.” He raises his brows at me then delves into the beginning riff of the song.

His eyes adhere to his fingers as they skate across the fretboard. I am quick to recognize the tune. There is some familiarity to it–it has a strong punch, it’s powerful, riveting even, yet simple and very catchy. Dad used to beat this song like a dead horse on his good ‘ole rickenbacker back in the day..I was blessed with a musician as a father which made for an interesting childhood. There was never a dull moment in our household growing up. It’s no surprise why I am able to identify songs by riff alone given the wisdom my father has shared with me on music theory.

“Rumble..” I mutter under my breath.

I stride towards center stage to get a good glimpse of Eric. I gaze up at him with admiration. His bangs are slightly tousled over his forehead. He charmingly flips his hair as he progresses through the riff. I zoom in on his face with my camera and snap an image. I shift to one corner and kneel on both knees and aim my camera upwards to get him in frame. I zoom my lens out ever so slightly just enough to get him and his guitar in the portrait. I capture another image, smiling at him adoringly. I hoist myself up and march on back over to him.

“You don’t strike me as someone who fancies a little Link Wray. He’s one of my favorites. My dad used to play this song day in, day out down in our basement.” I am suddenly hit with a quick flashback of my childhood. A tiny smile breaks across my face as I reminisce about those happier, more innocent days.

Eric pauses his performance. “Your father taught you well then. And you know, it’s rude to interrupt a musician while he’s in the middle of performing an important score.” His tone is facetious.

“Ohh..right, where are my manners?!” I retort sarcastically, “so anyway, I’m curious to know what you like to do for fun when you’re not making sweet, sweet love to your guitar.” Business tactic.

“Is that what you think I do?” he snorts audibly. He grins from ear to ear as he tries to further process my statement.

I quickly snap his image and giggle rather mischievously. “Beautiful..”

“So this is how you run your sessions? Clever girl..”

“Are you going to answer my question, Mr. Stewart?” I cock my head to one side. I gaze up at him with arms crossed, raising a brow at him. My lips twist into a cheeky smile as I await his response.

“My God, soo demanding..” he leans his arms over the body of his guitar, then proceeds to construct a response, “well if you must know..when I’m not, as you say, making love to my Gibson, you’ll find me tucked away in the garage doting on my Ferrari collection.”

“So you’re a car guy, huh?”

“Oh more than just a car guy..I’m involved.”

“Now why are we larking about? It is now 6:30 pm and we’re still not through with the shoot. What’s going on here?” Jonathan enters the studio from one of the side doors. He displays some degree of aggravation in his tone.

“That’s my fault, Mr. King, I’m holding them up. We’re almost finished.” I say this matter-of-factly. I’d rather take the blame for any delays.

“Gentlemen, one last thing before we conclude this session. Graham, Eric, Lol..I need you fellas to stand right by Kevin. You all seem to be a natural at this so just be yourselves, alright?”

The guys congregate around Kevin as directed. They fix themselves accordingly. I’ve been so entranced by this group that I’ve barely noticed just how casually dressed they are. The guys are all adorned in a mixture of denim, flannel shirts and casual pullover sweaters. I love how un-rock ‘n’ roll they are.

We conclude the session with several shots of the guys flocked around Kevin and a few with Lol being the centerpiece..

I check my watch and notice that the time is now 7:00 pm. I resist the urge to yawn.

“You must be tired, lady.” Eric peers into my eyes. His smile is charming. Contagious, even.

“Mhm..time for me to go.” I give into yawning, “oh boy..what a day..”

“Um..when will I..I mean, we hear back from you? you know, about the status of our pictures?”

“Well since you boys have been very accommodating today, I have my ways of expediting the process. I plan on swinging over to the photo lab first thing in the morning so I can get your photos developed hopefully by the end of tomorrow. So, to answer your question Eric, give me a couple days to get it done.” My tone is reassuring.

“Will you be delivering the pictures to us?” He maintains his gaze on me. His tone is perturbed.

“Well I’m going to be busy within the next few days. I have a few other shoots to get through this week, but I will do my best to swing by and hand deliver them myself. If not, I have an apprentice working for me who is aware of my plan and will be more than happy to deliver your pictures in case I‘m not available to do it.”

For a moment, we are covered with a veil of silence as we both try to mentally process the act of parting ways. I want to see you again too, Eric. I think you’re interesting and I want to get to know more about you and your incredible life..

He sighs deeply, almost despairingly, then slips a tiny piece of paper into the palm of my hand while bringing my hand up to his face to plant gentle kiss on my knuckle. Butterflies, again.

“On behalf of the group and myself, thank you for making this day memorable.” He smiles at me meekly. I cannot seem to comprehend how a grown man could look so pure and innocent yet ripe all at once. “Call the studio if you have any concerns..about anything..anything at all.”

“Eric..I..today was great. Thank you..for everything.” I gently peel my hand away from his hold. Something in me is compelling me to kiss him on the cheek. No..no..too soon.

“I really hope to see you again.” He is seemingly pleading.

“Oh you will. I’m sure you will. Goodnight, Eric.” I take one last look at him before heading out the door.

“Goodnight.”

I swing my backpack over my shoulder and proceed to exit the studio, resisting the urge to turn around and look back at him. I stagger just outside the studio’s premises. I inhale deeply, then exhale one slowed and controlled breath as I take a moment to process the whole slew of events that occurred today. Where’s a cigarette when I need one?

I unravel the tiny piece of paper that Eric seamlessly slipped into my hand just before parting ways. I read his writing:

Please call me at Strawberry if you need anything.

01612857303

-Eric

I think I just felt my stomach drop.

———————————————————————————

<<previous chapter next chapter>>

please visit my masterlist if you would like to see some of my other work :))

#why is king always gatekeeping the guys?? 🙄#eric stewart #fanfiction #eric stewart x oc!fem #graham gouldman #lol creme #kevin godley #jonathan king

9 notes · View notes

utterlyvapid · 1 year ago

Text

Lyrically, it’s a mess of cliches and generic empowerment lines paired with subtle nods to the whole media circus surrounding Grande that fall flat. The improv-tastic title suggests a playful tone that does not carry over to the rest of the song. The Madonna samples indicates fun is just around the corner. Grande’s girlish delivery gives the impression we’re not taking things too seriously. It runs at 3 minutes and 35 seconds of underwhelming bitchiness.

The biggest crime is the sample.

For starters, I think it takes a special kind of talented producer to sample an already classic hit and create something equally undeniable. You’re fighting against not just your own potential inadequacies, but the cultural memory of the song you’re sampling. Which is why the decision to build this comeback single on the foundations of the 1991 cultural juggernaut that is ‘Vogue’ is an odd one. This is not a good enough beat to justify its own existence.

#pop culture #hollywood #substack #review #pop #music #Ariana grande #yes and #eternal sunshine #Madonna #vogue

0 notes

theenchantedecho · 2 years ago

Text

Magical Innovators & Artisans: The Enchanting Entrepreneurs Shaping Our Wizarding World

Ladies, gents, and magical creatures of all kinds, gather 'round! The wizarding world is experiencing a renaissance in the traditional arts and crafts, and we're here to guide you through the enchanting labyrinth of our community's most talented artisans. These wizards and witches are the heart and soul of our magical heritage, keeping the ancient crafts alive and well, while also breathing new life into them. So, let's dive in and discover the remarkable individuals who are weaving their magic into every corner of our world.

First up, we have the exceptional wandmaker, Evelyn Willowbrook, whose hand-carved wands are a true testament to the artistry and dedication of our ancestors. Willowbrook, a protégé of the esteemed Ollivander family, has taken the wandmaking world by storm with her exquisite craftsmanship and innovative designs. Her wands have been praised by many, including Professor Fergus Flitwick, Head of the Department of Magical Arts at the Wizarding Academy of Higher Education, who claimed, "Willowbrook's wands are nothing short of revolutionary, and her understanding of the magical properties of wandmaking is unparalleled" (The Art of Wandlore, 1981). In a recent interview with Wand World Weekly, Willowbrook revealed her secret to success: "It's all about understanding the unique relationship between the wand's core, wood, and the wizard it chooses. A harmonious bond makes all the difference in the world" (Wand World Weekly, February 1982). Evelyn Willowbrook, we tip our hats to your magical mastery!

Next on our list is the bewitching tapestry weaver, Gideon Threadgild. Combining centuries-old techniques with modern magical innovations, Threadgild's tapestries are not only visually stunning but also imbued with enchantments that bring his creations to life. In a feature story by Magical Home and Hearth, Threadgild shared his inspiration for his mesmerising work: "I believe that every home should be a sanctuary filled with magic, and my tapestries are an extension of that belief" (Magical Home and Hearth, January 1982). One of Threadgild's loyal customers, Winifred Whisp, shared her experience: "When I first laid eyes on Gideon's tapestries, I was immediately transported to another world. The colours, the details, the enchantments—it was as if I was witnessing the very essence of magic itself" (personal communication, February 24, 1982). Gideon Threadgild, your enchanting artistry has left us spellbound!

But it's not just wands and tapestries stealing the spotlight! Fashion-forward witches and wizards are flocking to Penelope Periwinkle's bespoke robe atelier, where she crafts the most exquisite garments using ancient magical tailoring techniques. As mentioned in the latest issue of Wizarding Vogue, Periwinkle's creations are "the epitome of elegance and enchantment, seamlessly blending tradition and innovation to create garments that are both timeless and trendsetting" (Wizarding Vogue, March 1982). An enchanted customer, Beatrice Bagshot, raved about her experience with Periwinkle's designs: "I attended a gala wearing one of Penelope's robes, and the compliments never ceased! It was as if I was wearing a living piece of art that captured the essence of my magical soul" (personal communication, February 28, 1982). Penelope Periwinkle, your designs are truly bewitching!

And last but not least, let's not forget the enigmatic potion master, Morgana Moonshade. Using age-old recipes handed down through generations, Moonshade has breathed new life into the art of potion-making. Her mysterious potions, with their captivating aromas and mesmerising effects, have taken the wizarding world by storm. In an exclusive interview with Potion Master's Journal, Moonshade shed some light on her creative process: "I strive to honour the wisdom of our ancestors while pushing the boundaries of what's possible in potion-making" (Potion Master's Journal, December 1981). Potion enthusiast and author, Edgar Nightshade, had this to say about Moonshade's concoctions: "Morgana's potions are like liquid magic, each sip revealing new layers of depth and complexity. Her work is a testament to the endless possibilities of potion-making" (personal communication, March 2, 1982). Morgana Moonshade, you've concocted a magical elixir for success!

These dedicated artisans are not only preserving our rich magical heritage but also expanding and enriching it with their creativity and innovation. Your incredible work not only showcases the beauty of our magical past but also paves the way for a vibrant and enchanting future. To our dear readers, we encourage you to explore and support these talented individuals who are keeping the magic of traditional arts and crafts alive.

So, get out there and discover the wonders of hand-carved wands, captivating tapestries, enchanting garments, and spellbinding potions for yourselves! You never know, you might just find a hidden gem that will bring an extra touch of magic to your life.

In the words of the renowned magical historian, Archibald Travers: "The magic of our world is a living, breathing entity, constantly evolving and adapting. It is up to us to nurture and cherish it, to ensure that our ancient crafts and traditions continue to thrive in the modern age" (The Legacy of Magical Arts, 1978). Let's celebrate and support the artists who are the guardians of our magical heritage, and in doing so, let's create an even more enchanting world for future generations to enjoy.

That's all for now, folks! Keep your wands at the ready for more spellbinding stories and updates from your favourite magical magazine. Remember, the world of magic is ever-changing, and we're here to keep you in the loop. Stay tuned, and as always, let the magic guide you!

#ch: Evelyn Willowbrook #ch: Ollivander family #ch: Fergus Flitwick #p: Wizarding Academy of Higher Education #s: The Art of Wandlore #ch: Gideon Threadgild #s: Magical Home and Hearth #ch: Winifred Whisp #ch: Penelope Periwinkle #s: Wizarding Vogue #ch: Beatrice Bagshot #ch: Morgana Moonshade #s: Potion Master's Journal #ch: Edgar Nightshade #ch: Archibald Travers #s: The Legacy of Magical Arts

2 notes · View notes