#theme 30

[suzy-queued]

Gallacrafts: King of the South Side What is a king without a king by his side? I had to make both Ian and Mickey. See below the cut for larger images and descriptions.

Mickey (King of Spades): cigarette, gold chain, black hair, middle finger, bandolier with bullets, gun, arrest placard, barbed wire

Ian (King of Hearts): freckles, red hair, gay Jesus t-shirt, pills, bottle of Old Style, EMT symbol, eagle tattoo

@gallacrafts

[doshiart]

The king of southside graffiti is at your attention!

Mickey whose coping is to get out of the house far away and mess up others graffiti, break some bottles and cry alone.

@gallacrafts theme 30 – king of the southside ♛

background for details!

[gallacrafts]

For Theme 30 we will need you to get ready to bow down and worship at his feet…

(let’s be honest, y’all wanna do that, anyway!)

Theme 30:

KING OF THE SOUTHSIDE

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies / I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife / Offer me that deathless death / Good God, let me give you my life…

Alternatively, if you don’t want to go down the human sacrifice route - because of how trite and commercial it’s all become - we understand!

Instead we will accept drawings, jewellery, poems, felt art, glass work, stories, topiary, wood work, cork craft, or any other KING OF THE SOUTH SIDE inspired creation your heart desires!

Your offerings to His Royal Majesty King Milkovich are due on Sunday 18th February, and by his royal decree you are to tag them with #Gallacrafts, #Theme 30, and of course #KING OF THE SOUTHSIDE

[michellemisfit]

I got through the last seven days by the skin of my teeth, leaving me with no creative wiggle room this week. But I couldn’t let @gallacrafts’ KING OF THE SOUTHSIDE go by without doing something, even if it ended up being a rehashed, cobbled together, only just about counts as up-cycled something that is 100% silly.

I hope you’ll at least get a chuckle out of it!

(Sound on)

The backdrop are coasters I had made from a piece of art gifted to me by the ever so talented @greentealycheejelly - it just seemed the perfect vibe for this staging <3

[blue-disco-lights]

Gallacrafts: King of the South Side

We know they’re still in Valentine’s Day mode this weekend!

Here’s a little needlepoint that I made for this month’s theme ~ that I ran through Canva to be extra ✨

Thank you @gallacrafts 👑 🥰 ❤️

[look-i-love-u]

And the king lived happily ever after ...

Gallacrafts - Theme 30 - King of the Southside

Since my last @gallacrafts candle burned down completely just in time for the new posting day, I knew I wanted to make a new candle.

It's liquid wax on a normal candle. With quotes that healed Mickey's heart and made his happy ever after possible. And of course there are some royal blue stargazer lilies too!

"Cause you're my husband."

"I love you and I trust you."

"You are so much better (than that)."

"I want to be where you are, (Mickey)."

Candle from all sides under the cut.

[eossa]

Großdruck

Theme 30 by @eossa

A minimal and responsive theme based around readability. Ideal for text heavy blogs, but can be used for any type.

As of Feb. 18, 2024, this theme has been updated to fully support Tumblr's new post format (NPF). The template now also features a dark mode and an updates tab.

Get the code: buymeacoffee | ko-fi | payhip

If you'd like to learn more about the features of this theme or how to customize it, please click here or follow the source link.

[lingy910y]

Gallacrafts #30: King of the Southside

🤴🤴

@gallacrafts

[archunzenygase]

day 7. sick/injured

coughing up ur lungs on ur bf core? :C

[mo-ok]

🚨 RED BOYS 🚨

🌠

[sforzesco]

DO NOT BE AFRAID

this is combining Ovid's Heroides and the Excidium Troie because I can't stop thinking of Hermes telling him not to be afraid. what the fuck!! Ares is wearing the crown that Paris gave him.

I have. thoughts. about Paris. he's almost got this Troilos parallel in my mind, that the event that defines him in detail exists in a lost narrative that we don't have (the Cypria), but everyone else knew. the event that defines Troilos is his death (murdered, butchered by Achilles, the violence of which haunts everything after. Achilles, child killer, you can't escape that!), and the event that defines Paris is the Judgement. what's a lost text but a kind of grave!!

idk I don't think that Paris before the Judgement would recognize himself after bc when you become god touched, it rearranges your guts. you become transformed in the worst way possible! how could you recognize yourself! but I also think that all the Parises after the Judgement would recognize each other because that event is so locked into the trauma of war and the scar it leaves on the land, it's like a scar on the narrative too. it exists like this forever, over and over again, so you exist like that forever too. Troy collects grief and despairs.

Troy as trauma: Reflections on intergenerational transmission and the locus of trauma, Andromache Karanika

and Paris is like. a miserable little god/corpse-puppet or something, like a match for the gods to throw onto gasoline.

The Excidium Troie + Ovid's Heroides:

Excidium Troie, trans. Muhammad Syarif Fadhlurrahman

Ovid, Heroides 16 (trans. Harold Isbell)

a collection of things regarding Paris that made me go 😬 but under a cut bc this is getting. very long.

The Divine Twins in Early Greek Poetry, Corolla Torontonensis

Iliad 24 and the Judgement of Paris, C.J. Mackie

Elegy and Epic and the Recognition of Paris: Ovid "Heroides" 16, Elizabeth Forbis Mazurek

Ennian Influence in "Heroides" 16 and 17, Howard Jacobson

Paris/Alexandros in the "Iliad", I. J. F. de Jong

[lottieurl]

thinking about jackie's room being covered in roses. roses on the sheets and on the nightstand

and shauna telling jeff jackie likes poppies. did jackie actually like poppies? did shauna lie to jeff because she didn't want him to get jackie something she actually likes?

[clawfootcoffin]

so, celia sacrificed sam to fill her spot in the tma universe. but… the sacrifice wasn’t just sam. he presumably fell with [ERROR] through that scar in reality..

and we know that you become emaciated when traveling through the portal(?). sam is Already called skinny in-universe a few times…

sam will either:

1. not survive his one-way trip to the tma universe, leaving [ERROR] to take celia’s spot in it (and dooming post-eyepocalypse tmaverse with yet Another horror)

2. somehow merge with [ERROR] and come out on the other side as One Whole Person-Archivist-Thing

[wildechildwrites]

Looney Tunes

König/reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: N/A

No use of Y/N

Summary: You keep running into König in the elevator at your apartment building. He'd be incredibly intimidating, but he kind of reminds you of a cartoon character.

A/N: König is so serious with all his war crimes and intensity, and you are... not serious

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

The man who steps on the elevator is giant, bigger than anyone you've ever seen in real life, and you can't help looking up at him, craning your neck. He's wearing a sweatshirt, the hood up and cloaking most of his face, disguising his eyes, but you see his nose point down at you, and you know he’s staring back at you.

"How tall are you?" You ask, before cringing at your own social awkwardness. It's silent for a moment, and you wonder if he heard you at all. The elevator dings for your floor and as you step off, a quiet, accented voice calls out.

“Two hundred centimeters.”

You whip your phone out, googling the conversion almost immediately as the doors shut behind you. He’s huge, with shoulders so widely set it's almost comical. You marvel at it briefly, then he slips your mind.

The next time you see the man, he’s got his hood off, his long hair pulled back into a bun. He’s older than you’d thought he’d be, strands of gray catching the light, standing out against the auburn. You step into the elevator with a greeting he doesn’t acknowledge. You both stand in silence, listening to the quiet ding as you pass the floors.

You've developed a quiet rhythm with the elevator man, leaving in the mornings at the same time, your greetings always met by a silence that should probably deter you but doesn't. You're staring at his reflection in the elevator doors, noting the way he seems to slightly slouch into himself, when your unbidden thoughts cause you to giggle. His eyes shoot up instantly to meet yours.

“You remind me of the looney tunes monster,” you blurt suddenly, the aimless rambling of your inner monologue spilling out before you can stop yourself. The man beside you stiffens, before turning his body fully to look down at you. You try not to cower, unable to meet his eye.

“The… um… the orange one? Have you ever seen looney tunes?” you push on moronically. He’s glaring down at you, and you wonder if getting murdered in an elevator is really the way to go.

“What is ‘looney’ tunes?” He finally asks, his voice low and hoarse, as if he's not used to speaking.

"It's a children's show… there's a bunch of little characters and they have their own personalities…" You know your face is bright red, and you thank whatever deity is involved when the elevator chimes and you can step off, too embarrassed to say goodbye.

You consider taking the stairs when you see him again the next day. You give a quiet greeting that he doesn't acknowledge, so you hope you're forgiven for yesterday. You're scrolling through your phone when he speaks, startling you.

"You are der hase?" He asks.

"What?" You respond, looking up with wide eyes, off guard.

He huffs, looking at the ceiling.

"The— rabbit. That is you?"

You scrunch your nose in momentary confusion, then the realization hits you.

"Oh. Bugs Bunny, you mean?" You laugh. "I guess I could be him."

You two stand in silence for the rest of the elevator ride.

You forgot you could be this drunk, staring at the elevator buttons in a daze. You couldn’t quite remember which one you were supposed to press, only knew for sure this was your building because your friend had put your address into the uber. You don’t even hear the footsteps behind you, the irritated sigh as König watches you sway slightly. It’s only when he reaches around you, pressing the up button, that you startle.

“Jesus Christ!” you say, jumping back. An impossibly large hand grabs your arm, steading you. You tilt your head back, and the elevator man is towering over you. He’s in army fatigues, and as your inebriated mind processes that information, the door to the elevator chimes open.

He doesn’t wait for you to move, just picks you up like you weigh nothing before stepping inside. You blink upwards at him in a daze, and he glares down at you. He’s chastising you in his low voice, and it takes you a moment to realize the reason you can’t understand him is because he’s not speaking English.

“You can let me down now,” you interrupt, your voice quiet and slightly slurred. He somehow manages to look even more pissed, staring down at you, incensed, and you’re sorry for saying anything. He fumbles in his other language before finding the words.

“You can— You can not stand.” He says with finality. You relax against him, lapsing into familiar silence as the elevator shoots upwards. This close to him, you can hear his heart beating, and you wonder why it's thumping so fast.

He carries you to your door, and you're too distracted to think about how he knows which apartment is yours. He sets you down, plucking the keys out of your hand with ease when you fumble with them, watching as you sway slightly.

"I keep thinking about the cartoon." He says suddenly, abandoning the key in the lock. He’s leaning over you, shadowing you in the small doorway as you look up at him, your expression confused. His face holds a neutral expression, but his eyes seem to glint in an odd way.

“The monster, he wants to eat the rabbit.” He states, taking a step towards you, crowding you against your door. The wood is cool against your back, and you’re blinking up at him through your drunken haze, trying to figure out what he’s talking about.

"Looney Tunes?" You finally respond, remembering your last conversation. He nods and reaches out one large hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skips, and you wonder if he can hear it as he drags his fingertips along your jaw, cupping your chin softly.

“Does the rabbit want to be eaten?” He asks, his head cocked. His eyes are like molten steel, his voice so soft and deep it’s practically a purr. It feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of the hallway, leaving you lightheaded.

“Oh,” you breathe, your lips parting softly, what little mental clarity you had abandoning you. There’s a scar that runs up from the man’s chin, stopping just below his bottom lip, and you’re staring at the scar, staring at his mouth, when he bends down, guiding your chin up as you raise yourself unsteadily on your tiptoes.

His lips are warm, scorching against yours, and you open your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss, whimpering when he presses his hard body against yours. His hand slides into your hair, his palm curling around the back of your neck, holding you steady. You shudder at the contact, and he breaks the kiss, pulling away, leaving you dazed and breathless. Everything is spinning, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or the fact that he’s still leaning over you, caging you in.

His pupils are blown wide, and you watch his chest rise and fall. He’s monstrous like this, a man at the brink of self control, his hands trembling at the effort to not touch you. He pushes away, creating distance, and you stare at him, stunned and confused. He’s muttering to himself again, and it finally cuts through your stupid, intoxicated brain that he’s speaking German.

He’s looking at you like he’d like to devour you. Instead he breathes, slow and deep, and takes another step back from you.

“Have a good night, häschen” He says, and then he turns, heading towards the elevator, away from you.

Part Two

[icys-junkyard]

got absorbed by a giant olive today

i was trying to cheese the mini-game by tossing the olive over the fence, but as you can see all i managed to do was traumatize my bike.