#this was not intentional but i like the contrast between these 2 drawings

[st4rtar0t]

PAC : Your life as an Aristocrat

(1.6k followers special)

Hello everyone! It's been a long time since I last did a pick a card reading, so here is the one last reading of this year. I am really grateful for each one of you for supporting me for this long and supporting my blog. I am really happy to announce that we are now a family of 1.6k people!

I wanted to make this reading really special and it took a lot of time and effort to complete this.

Please like and reblog to show your appreciation for my work <3

Picture 1

Your life as an aristocrat would likely be filled with both power and responsibility, as well as heartbreak and betrayal. Being in such a high position, you would carry the weight of leadership, making decisions not only for yourself but for the betterment of those you serve. This position might also resonate with your current life, especially if you've experienced betrayals or felt the pressure of meeting others' expectations. As a prince or princess, you'd be surrounded by people, but trust would always be a challenge. Not everyone in your circle would have genuine intentions. Some may seek to use your position for their own gain, leading to moments of heartbreak when their true motives are revealed. If you’ve felt this in your current life, it could be that these lessons are a part of your spiritual journey.

This role might also bring restrictions, as you'd need to follow strict protocols and behave in ways that align with societal expectations. This might feel stifling, especially if you have a free spirit and a strong desire to explore the world. You might long to break free from these limitations but find yourself held back by duty or fear of the consequences of defiance. As the eldest sibling, you'd bear additional burdens, often being seen as a role model and a source of strength for those younger than you. This responsibility can feel overwhelming, as you may not always have someone to share your own struggles with. The pressure to maintain an image of perfection and reliability could make it hard to show vulnerability, even when you deeply need support.

Your relationship with your father might be strained. He could be a strict or dominant figure, imposing rules and expectations that sometimes feel unfair or overly rigid. This dynamic might make it hard for you to feel truly understood or supported in pursuing your dreams. Instead of encouragement, you may encounter criticism, pushing you to rebel inwardly, even if you cannot express it outwardly. Your adventurous nature and curiosity about the world would stand in sharp contrast to the confined life of an aristocrat. You might dream of traveling to distant lands, meeting new people, and experiencing cultures outside the walls of your palace. However, obligations, responsibilities, and fear of societal judgment could hold you back, leaving you feeling trapped in a gilded cage. Despite these struggles, there’s immense strength within you. Your resilience and determination would help you rise above betrayals and restrictions. You’d have the ability to take charge of your destiny, balancing your responsibilities with your desire for freedom. This journey could teach you invaluable lessons about trust, independence, and the power of self-belief, shaping you into a wise and compassionate leader.

Picture 2

As a Countess, your life is vibrant and multifaceted, a delicate balance between grand responsibilities and personal passions. You possess a natural charm that draws people toward you, making you a beloved figure in your circle. Your life as an aristocrat would likely revolve around maintaining harmony, both within your household and among the wider community you oversee. Relationships play a significant role in your journey, and you excel at fostering meaningful connections. You are a true believer in unity and companionship, which makes you a natural leader in social and familial settings.

Your vision extends beyond the boundaries of your estate. You dream of a world where growth and exploration are constant. As a Countess, you would not only cherish your traditions but also seek new ideas and opportunities to enrich your life and the lives of those around you. You are forward-thinking and innovative, willing to take calculated risks to achieve greater things. However, your adventurous spirit might sometimes make you act impulsively, but this spontaneity also keeps your life exciting and unpredictable. Your generosity is evident, though it’s not without its challenges. You are deeply invested in the well-being of your community and enjoy helping others, but at times, you might feel that your efforts are unrecognized or taken for granted. This could lead to moments of frustration or doubt, yet your sense of duty keeps you steadfast.

One of your greatest joys lies in celebrating life’s beauty. Whether through hosting grand parties or small gatherings, you thrive in creating memorable experiences for others. You have a deep appreciation for art, music, and traditions, often using these elements to make your celebrations even more enchanting. Your love for these timeless values reflects your respect for the past and your hope for the future. While your religious or spiritual beliefs guide your actions, they also encourage you to give back. Whether it’s through donations or acts of service, you find fulfillment in helping those in need. Your charitable nature adds to your charm, as people admire not just your status but also your kindness and compassion.

Picture 3

As an aristocrat, your life would be filled with a sense of balance and progression, surrounded by beauty and tradition. You might live in a grand estate on the outskirts of town, far from the bustling crowds, where peace and tranquility dominate the environment. Your home could be near a serene body of water a calm river, a glistening lake, or perhaps the sea offering a picturesque view that soothes your soul. The estate would likely be known for its sprawling gardens, with lush apple trees bearing fruit, symbolizing abundance and nurturing the spirit of your household. Your days would begin with a quiet morning walk through your gardens, where the crisp air carries the fragrance of blossoms and ripe apples. You might spend time reflecting on your responsibilities, ensuring that your land and people thrive under your care. Education and tradition play a significant role in your life; you may host gatherings to discuss philosophy, art, and culture, sharing wisdom and preserving the heritage of your lineage.

Emotional fulfillment would be central to your existence. Relationships with family, friends, and those in your care would be deeply meaningful. You’d approach life with a blend of kindness and decisiveness, working diligently to maintain harmony within your estate. Challenges may arise, particularly when dealing with those who might envy your position or misunderstand your intentions. However, you handle such conflicts with grace, focusing on what truly matters: the well-being of your loved ones and the legacy you’re building. Your evenings might be spent hosting elegant dinners, where candles flicker, music plays softly in the background, and conversations flow about art, science, and the greater mysteries of life. As a person of high status, you could also be involved in charitable endeavors, offering guidance and resources to uplift the less fortunate.

There’s a strong sense of connection between your spiritual beliefs and your day-to-day activities. Rituals and traditions would form a significant part of your life, perhaps marking important occasions or seasonal changes with ceremonies. Your approach to life is one of constant growth, nurturing not just the land around you but the hearts of those who depend on you.

[clar-a-m]

Imogen and Laudna bouldering AU, inspired by @theunqualified1's fic Chalk It Up To Luck

More drawings for this fic here

[nowanderers]

xavier x reader —ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), thigh fucking, cum on panties

wc: 1.2K

tagged: @luckylittlepaw

artist note: i needed a change of pace after what i wrote for sylus. ones written for the other men can be found here.

things did start off innocent. 

you’d both planned for a nap, drained from last night’s mission and the 2 am return home. you’d both yawned through the afternoon. declarations of sleepiness passed both of your lips— though for xavier that’s typical. 

those sleepy intentions died the moment his cock poked your ass. your bedroom, now anything but a quiet environment suitable for sleeping. the incessant squeak from your bed frame and xavier’s light gasps overshadow the swishing of the smooth bed sheets beneath your frenzied movements. 

warm puffs of jagged, short breaths tickle your bare skin as you feel xavier’s head rest against the back of your neck. caught between two strong arms, you press your hips into him while he ruts against you. his cock feels hard and heavy tucked between your plush thighs. the fat tip firm as it rubs along your damp, thin lace panties in wanton need. 

he’s holding you close to his chest so lovingly– contrasting the depraved way he rolls his hips. when xavier’s pace picks up your body floods with more heat. you pant in dire need of cold air to fill your lungs, feeling parched. skin on fire under the thick blanket that conceals you both. tearing it off, you shiver from both his teasing cock and the cool air nipping at your skin. your sweaty bodies stick together like glue as you move in tandem. you push back into him, hips tilted as you chase after the tiny ghosts of friction that torture your clit. pussy undeniably sopping wet with need– ready for more than this.

xavier’s gentle hands move away from your waist in favor of touching your stomach. his fingers softly caress their way to your chest, sending a flurry of energized butterflies straight to your cunt. he covers your tits with his large hands and he gives them both a squeeze that has your eyes rolling back. he’s close. his slowly bruising and ravenous grip on you is the leading indicator.

the man only ever got rough with you minutes before cumming. his fingers dig into your skin as he uses your chest as leverage while he fucks your thighs. every sound he let out sent you reeling. his labored breaths build until he’s moaning so softly in your ear. the wet slide of his cock between your legs becomes sloppy as his hips buck and stutter into a desperate rhythm. you feel the heat against you before you realize he’s cumming. spurts of his cum hit your thinly clothed center and you mewl from the hot sensation. he ruins the sheets and your underwear, smearing his load all over the lace fabric.

eventually, xavier’s breathing evens out. you’re still snuggled together in the middle of your bed, cum trickling down your thigh. “what happened to feeling sleepy?” you ask with a lazy smile stretching on your lips as his arms coil around your waist. he kisses along your neck and draws you closer into his hold– as if he could get any closer to you at this moment.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he answers simply, voice dulcet as the words brush against your skin. shifting, he lets go of you while he continues further. “i read somewhere that helps.” 

you feel the mattress dip and you turn to see him moving farther down your bed. “what are you doing?” you ask, catching his attention. finding your cluelessness kind of cute, xavier smiles and reaches for your hand, giving it a tender squeeze thereafter.

“helping you fall asleep.” 

xavier settles between your legs without another word. he gives your hand another loving squeeze before leaving it to lie alone on top of the cold sheets. your gaze follows his movements as he adjusts you until your thighs flank either side of his head. 

pretty, glacier-blue eyes gloss over your body with a fleeting glance before lingering on the messy scene at your entrance. his steady hands spread your legs wide, exposing more of you to him. sticky and cum soaked, your panties clung to your center. they outline your pussy so hotly that his eyes burn with desire. slowly, he slides the fabric to the side. you watch with bated breath as he leans down and licks a teasing fat stripe through your delicate folds. he sighs against you, saturating your dewy pussy with his spit as he repeatedly drags his skilled tongue through your cunt. he groans at the taste, pausing to savor the sweet essence on his lips before diving back in for another lustful lick that has your toes curling.

xavier doesn’t do the same thing long enough for you to get used to it. he flicks his wet tongue across your clit before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, teasing every nerve ending on its surface. after he pulls a string of shaky moans out of your chest, he slides the warm muscle all across your pussy, cleaning up every bit of your wetness with the eager slurp of his lips. enjoying himself, his eyes fall closed and he releases a peaceful hum that strokes all the sensitive points within you. he laps at you keenly, trying to work out what you needed most– the answer was all of it.

with every deep, lingering lick across your slippery wet cunt, you sink further into a bliss so heavenly. warm, fuzzy, and gingerly carving you out from the inside. 

xavier has such a sinfully drawn-out way of eating you out. slow, sinuous, but impactful, like he had all the time in the world. he moans against you, languidly shaking his head back and forth along your folds while he sucks your clit between his lips, tongue flicking against it in his mouth. 

“oh.” you whisper.

he always got this into it. the sensation ravaging your body with every sound that’s muffled into your cunt. his fingers bite into the skin at your thighs as he presses his face closer, using them as handles while he sloppily makes out with your sweet pussy. he groans again, rendering you speechless. all you can do is shake loose the mangled syllables that catch in your throat as his mouth pushes you closer to the edge. the sounds flowing past your lips want to be words, instead settling for half-formed pleas and whines that stretch on into oblivion. 

xavier brings all of his focus to your throbbing clit, swirling his tongue around the aching bud nonstop while you hold his head firmly in place. you can’t help but cry out as his ministrations successfully shut your body down. a couple of deliciously rough licks later, your cunt trembles through a gushing wet orgasm– lips framing his name through a debauched noise that’s hard to categorize. loud. uncontrolled and erotically charged. the love child of a moan and a scream.

you’re walked through your high by the subtle drag of xavier’s tongue. the heat of it ebbs and flows, coursing beneath your skin before all the raw pleasure in your body fizzles out. until you’re left with this mind-numbing sleepiness that has your eyes half-lidded. 

you remain splayed out, breathing through deep inhales and exhales while he lays soothing kisses along your inner thighs. his lips travel up your torso and across your chest. even now, you can feel the emotions that he’s able to wake up within you with each kiss he presses into your skin. you smile weakly at the love that flourishes in your chest. the thick blanket from before covers your body once more. 

one last gentle kiss is placed on your forehead and soft words that you can’t discern barely reach your ears. far too sleepy as you near the precipice of a phenomenal nap.

[verstappensrealwife]

Casual (Part 2 of 2) - Max Verstappen x Reader

[max verstappen masterlist / lando norris masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... lando can't give her what she wants, but max can. ʚɞ fluff, smut  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 3200 words ʚɞ warnings: ex!fwb!lando x reader (Part1), Austria GP '24, crash into lando, small smut at the end.

PART ONE HERE

Previously…

“Maxverstappen1 has requested to follow you.” “Maxverstappen1 has requested to message you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Max, with his quiet confidence and genuine smiles, was a stark contrast to Lando’s fleeting attentions. You thought back to the brief conversations in stores, the way Max's eyes seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a kindness that Lando never showed. He had always treated you with respect, even in those short interactions, and now he was reaching out.

Curiosity and a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope—bubbled up inside you. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting his follow request and opening his message.

“Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime?”

The simplicity and sincerity of his message were refreshing. Max wasn’t playing games; he wasn’t hiding you or keeping you at arm’s length. As you read his words, you realized how much you craved that kind of straightforward, genuine connection.

In that moment, you knew you’d rather be with someone like Max—someone who saw you as more than just a fleeting distraction. You typed out a response, feeling a sense of anticipation and relief wash over you.

“Hi Max, I’d love to. When are you free?”

...

You continued to ignore Lando for a week before your date with Max.

Was it a date? You weren’t exactly sure.

Max looked incredibly handsome sitting across from you in the cozy corner of a cafe in Monaco. Outside, the rain poured down, casting the sky in a grey and gloomy shroud, while the warm lighting inside gave him a soft, inviting glow. You sipped from the mug in your hands, savoring the comforting warmth as you stole glances at him.

The cafe was a charming little place, filled with the comforting aromas of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries. The walls were adorned with vintage art and photographs of Monaco’s picturesque coastline, while soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the quiet murmur of other patrons. The rain outside added a rhythmic percussion, making the inside feel even more like a warm, intimate refuge from the world.

Max's eyes, a striking shade of blue, seemed to reflect the dim light, making them look almost ethereal. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers drummed nervously against the table, a small but endearing gesture that made your heart flutter.

“So, uhm, does your boyfriend know we’re here?” Max asked, breaking the silence. You almost choked on your drink at his question, frowning in confusion.

“B-boyfriend?” you repeated, setting the mug down and staring into his eyes.

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. God, you were pretty. “Lando? Is he not your boyfriend?”

You shook your head quickly, almost too quickly. Max hummed thoughtfully, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that a good thing?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Well, I’m glad, so I suppose it is,” he replied, his smile widening slightly.

“Oh, so you asked out a woman you believed was taken, Max?” you teased, a laugh escaping your lips.

Max chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I guess I just couldn’t resist,” he said, his voice low and sincere. The sound of the rain pattering against the windows created a soothing backdrop to your conversation, the world outside forgotten as you both basked in the warm glow of the moment.

Conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you, each word drawing you closer. Max listened intently as you spoke, his eyes never leaving your face, and when it was his turn, his stories and laughter held you spellbound. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed in the warm, inviting glow of the café.

By the end of the evening, around 5 pm, the rain had eased to a gentle drizzle, casting a magical shimmer on the streets. Max walked you back to your house, the quiet of the evening amplifying the lingering tension between you. The city felt almost enchanted in the soft twilight, the air fresh and clean after the rain.

When you reached your door, you turned to face him, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush. “Thanks for, uhm, walking me home,” you said sincerely, your eyes meeting his.

Max nodded, waving off your thanks as if it was nothing. “It’s fine. It’s on the way to my apartment anyway,” he said. You knew it was a lie—his apartment was in the complete opposite direction—but you didn’t call him out on it, appreciating the gesture. “This was nice…” he added, clearly reluctant to let the evening end and searching for a way to extend the moment.

“Yeah, it was,” you agreed, your lips curving into a grin. “We should do it again?” Your voice lifted at the end, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Yes! Ahem—yeah, totally,” he coughed, a flush creeping up his neck. “Sorry—erm—you could come to a race… if you’d want that—obviously no pressure but—”

“I’d love to,” you interrupted, placing your hand on his chest to stop his nervous rambling. The feel of his firm, muscular chest beneath your fingers sent a thrill through you. “Just text me any details, and I’ll be there.”

He nodded hurriedly, his excitement barely contained. “Of course, I’ll send you everything. The next race is in Austria,” he managed to say, his words tumbling over each other.

“See you later, Max,” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek gently. His skin was warm under your lips, and he immediately went bright red, his flustered expression making you smirk. “Text me,” you repeated softly.

With one last smile, you turned and disappeared into your apartment building, leaving Max standing there, staring at the spot where you had been. His cheek tingled from where your lips had touched, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted that feeling every day, forever, with you. As he walked back to his apartment, his mind raced with thoughts of you, replaying every moment of the evening and imagining the possibilities of what could come next.

— AUSTRIA, RED BULL RING.    SUNDAY, 30 JUNE 2024.

Race day had finally arrived. You’d just gotten to the paddock that morning, the familiar roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filling the air. It felt strange being back, especially without someone rushing you away from prying eyes, trying to hide the fact you were there with Lando. This time, you walked freely down the pit lane, no longer shadowed by secrecy.

You caught a glimpse of the back of Max’s head up ahead, his distinct figure standing out among the flurry of activity. But before you could call out to him, you heard your name being shouted from behind. Startled, you spun around to see Lando jogging toward you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You got my texts?” Lando asked, slightly breathless as he stopped in front of you. “I thought you wouldn’t come, but… anyway, do you wanna go away from here? Talk?”

For a moment, you just stared at him, processing the unexpected encounter. No, you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but seeing him again like this, especially in such a familiar setting, was still a bit of a shock. His presence stirred memories you thought you’d left behind.

“I—uhm,” you stuttered, searching for the right words to tell him to leave you alone, to fuck off, really, but the words tangled on your tongue. “Well—”

“Come on,” Lando urged, his voice softer, almost pleading, as he took a step closer. His hand reached out, as if to gently guide you by the arm, but you instinctively flinched backward, the movement sharp and defensive.

“Y/N?” Lando frowned, confusion clouding his features. He dropped his hand, the space between you suddenly feeling like a chasm. The familiarity in his tone, the way he said your name—it tugged at something inside you, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt or the reasons you were no longer together.

“I’m not here with you, Lando…” you say quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was invited by someone else.”

“Someone else?” he stutters, his expression flickering with disbelief. “You… who?”

Before you can answer, Lando’s eyes shift behind you, catching sight of Max Verstappen approaching with purposeful strides. The realization seems to dawn on him just as Max reaches you, his hand naturally resting on your shoulder as if it belonged there.

“When did you get here?” Max asks, his tone warm and completely ignoring Lando’s presence. It’s not malicious, but his focus is entirely on you, making Lando seem like an afterthought.

“About three hours ago,” you reply with a smile, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you.

“I could’ve picked you up,” Max offers, his concern genuine, though you quickly wave him off.

“Don’t be silly,” you say lightly before turning to Lando, who is still staring at the two of you, visibly confused and almost… jealous. “Yeah—Lando—Max sort of invited me.”

Lando’s brows knit together, his confusion deepening. “What—huh—sorry, what?” he stammers. “When did you two get so close?” His eyes dart between you and Max, searching for answers he can’t seem to find.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “Erm, like a month or so ago…”

The connection clicks in Lando’s mind—the timeline of when you stopped speaking to him and when you started getting close to Max. The realization seems to sting, his lips pressing into a thin line as he hums in acknowledgment before shaking his head and walking away without another word.

“That was… weird,” Max mutters, watching Lando’s retreating figure for a moment before his attention snaps back to you. He quickly changes the subject, eager to make you feel at ease. “Come on, let me show you the garage. It’s the best place to watch the race.”

“The garage?” you ask, confused by his offer.

Max frowns slightly, equally perplexed. “Where else would you watch it from?”

“I—well, usually in the drivers’ room,” you admit with a sigh, memories of hidden moments flashing through your mind.

Max scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Of course, he would do that,” he mumbles under his breath, before focusing on you again. “I mean, you can if you want to, but here is fine by me. You’ll be right in the heart of everything.”

You nod, silently agreeing to watch the race from the garage, knowing full well that all the cameras would catch you there, recording every move and fueling speculation about who you were. But this time, you didn’t mind. Max’s presence beside you made you feel secure, as if you belonged right there in the spotlight with him.

After the race, the atmosphere in the paddock was tense, the energy electric with the aftermath of Max’s crash into Lando. Lando made it painfully clear how furious he was, his frustration palpable in every gesture and word. Max, on the other hand, seemed remarkably unfazed by the whole ordeal. He’d still managed to finish in the points and, in his mind, had taken a small victory by ruining Lando’s race in the process. For Max, it was a win-win.

As the crowd buzzed with post-race excitement, Max spotted you standing by the edge of the garage, waiting for him. Despite the chaos around him, seeing you brought a smile to his face. He didn’t have much time before he had to face a swarm of interviewers, but he made a beeline for you, nudging your arm gently to grab your attention.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“Oh—hey!” You turned, grinning up at him. “P5 is good,” you said, your eyes sparkling with pride for him.

“Maybe for Lando’s standards,” Max jabbed jokingly, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You laughed, the sound light and infectious, easing some of the tension that still hung in the air. “You’re terrible,” you teased, shaking your head, but the warmth in your voice made it clear you didn’t mean it.

Max chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, his tone playful. The way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat, and for a second, the noise of the paddock faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

He glanced over his shoulder at the waiting throng of journalists, his smile dimming slightly. “I’ve got to go handle those vultures,” he sighed, nodding toward the waiting press. “But I’ll find you after?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with anticipation. “I’ll be here.”

“Good,” he said, giving your arm one last, gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. As he headed toward the media, you watched him go, feeling a mix of pride and excitement. Even after everything that had happened on the track, Max was still the same—unflappable, confident, and now, undeniably connected to you in a way that felt both thrilling and right.

-

After the whirlwind of interviews, Max finally managed to break away from the paddock's relentless pace. The sun had set by the time he made his way back to his hotel, the darkening sky mirroring the calm that was beginning to settle over him. His thoughts, however, weren’t on the race or the questions he had just faced—they were on you.

When he entered his hotel room, it was quiet and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic energy of the racetrack. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he closed the door behind him. He had texted you on his way back, a simple message asking if you’d come over. Now, as he stood in the middle of the room, his nerves started to creep in. There was something different about tonight, something he couldn’t quite put into words, but it was there, lingering in the air.

The knock at the door came just as he was running a hand through his hair, trying to settle his thoughts. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, opening the door to find you standing there, a soft smile on your face. You were a sight for sore eyes, the tension he’d been holding onto dissipating at the mere sight of you.

“Hi,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you replied, slipping past him into the room. You glanced around, taking in the minimalist decor and the soft, ambient light that bathed the space in a warm glow. “Nice place,” you commented lightly, but your eyes soon found his, and the room seemed to shrink around you.

Max didn’t respond immediately; instead, he just watched you, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again, but this time, with the clarity of everything that had happened today. Finally, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and sincere.

You looked up at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Me too,” you admitted, the words coming out as barely more than a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken tension. Then, as if some invisible line had been crossed, Max leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was savoring the moment, the taste of you, the feel of you against him. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he confessed, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

You smiled against his lips, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “So have I,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the admission.

Max’s response was a low, rumbling laugh that you felt more than heard. He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, the restraint from earlier slipping away. His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened, becoming a desperate, hungry exchange that left you both breathless.

Without breaking the kiss, Max began to guide you toward the bed, his movements careful but insistent. When the backs of your legs hit the edge of the mattress, he paused, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. There was a question in his gaze, a silent request for permission, for reassurance that this was what you wanted too.

You answered him by tugging him down onto the bed with you, your lips crashing back into his as you both fell into the soft sheets. Max let out a soft groan as he followed your lead, his hands finding your hips as he pressed against you. The world outside the room faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

Time seemed to blur as clothes were discarded and soft whispers filled the room. Max’s touch was reverent, his kisses trailing down your body, worshipping every inch of you. There was an urgency in the way he held you, a need that had been building up ever since that first kiss in the paddock.

When he finally moved to join your bodies together, he did so with a slow, deliberate push that left you both gasping for breath. His name slipped from your lips in a soft moan, a sound that drove him wild. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he began to move, each thrust deep and measured.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, his voice strained with the effort to keep himself in check. “You feel… incredible.”

Your hands found his hair, tugging gently as you arched into him, meeting his movements with equal fervor. The tension that had been building between you all day finally reached its breaking point, and with one final, desperate thrust, you both finished together, your cries mingling in the stillness of the room.

Afterward, as you both lay tangled in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, Max pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion but laced with a quiet plea.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you replied softly, earning a tired but contented smile from him.

Max kissed the top of your head, his grip on you tightening just a fraction. “Good,” he whispered, his eyes drifting closed. “I don’t want this to end.”

As you lay there in the quiet of the night, wrapped in his arms, you couldn’t help but feel the same. Whatever this was between you and Max, it felt right, like something that had been a long time coming.

-----

tags :

@herexpertcollector @bingussthirdtoe @boady27 @some-girl-lost-in-this-world @iangelofmusic @abq654 @issi-loves-dannyric @f1fantasys @smoooothoperatorrrr @prudyhoo @0rrphiic @gaypoetsblog @bloodymug @tpwkstiles @forza-dolce @piceous21 @iforgotmynames @jzr201

[dominantslasherking]

Armand With Dominant Male S/o pt 1

Backstory: Louis and Armand talk to Daniel about you. Armands, strange feelings and possessiveness of you is revealed. The obsession that Armand reveals for you is unsettling, Daniel can't help but wonder, what happened to you. Authors note: Tell me if you want part 2.

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

The dim light of the room flickered softly over the rich crimson drapes, casting long shadows that mirrored the weight of the conversation between Daniel, Louis, and Armand. The sound of the city outside was muffled, distant. It was just the three of them now, seated in that familiar, quiet tension. Daniel, ever the sharp observer, leaned forward in his chair, the recorder beside him whirring faintly, capturing every word.

Louis’ dark eyes flickered over to Armand, who sat with a distant expression, lost in thoughts of a time long past Almost weary of the current subject that was about to be, revealed. The interview had delved into old wounds, recounting moments of blood and betrayal, moments that were still vivid in Louis' mind. The play, the Theater of the Vampires, where he and Claudia had first met Armand and his brood. It was a time when everything was fragile—when the world had cracked open and bled.

Daniel was listening intently, following the story, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, something unsaid hovering on his lips.

“And this is where Claudia asked to join them,” Daniel remarked, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “Bold move. She never struck me as one to hesitate.”

Louis chuckled softly, a bitter edge to the sound. “Claudia was many things, but hesitant was never one of them.”

But then, Daniel shifted, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he steered the conversation in a different direction. “Speaking of companions…” he began, his tone measured, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. You’ve mentioned so many characters from your past—Lestat, Claudia, Armand—but there’s one who seems to be missing from the puzzle.” Daniel’s gaze sharpened, settling on Armand, whose stillness had taken on a peculiar intensity.

“What about the vampire [Your Name]?”

Louis glanced at Armand, whose expression remained unreadable. The air between them felt thicker, charged with something unspoken. Armand’s dark eyes flickered with something that might have been longing, or perhaps possession, as if the mere mention of [Your Name] had awakened something deep and dormant within him.

“[Your Name],” Daniel repeated, leaning into the silence. “There’s not much written about him, but what I’ve found… well, it’s fascinating.” Daniel paused placing his recorder onto the table tappingsome files. "I mean anytime you did talk about your past, never once did you mention [Your Name] despite the hints in your story that seemed almost made up, as if you were...well I don't know, excluding someone?" Daniel let out a hum, Louis faked a smile.

Armand’s lips curled into a soft smile, though his eyes remained distant. “Fascinating, yes,” he murmured. “He always was.” Armand stayed calmly distracting Daniel from Louis for the time being.

Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “[Your Name] was with us for a time after we… after we thought we had killed Lestat,” he explained, his voice quieter now, more careful. “He was an old friend, or at least, he felt like one. Claudia adored him. Treated him almost like a father, after Lestat.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “A father figure? That’s interesting. Especially after… everything with Lestat.” Louis opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of the past pulled him under, drawing him into a memory he hadn’t revisited in years.

--

Claudia’s youthful laughter echoed softly in the apartment room, filtered through thick curtains. You sat with her at a grand oak desk, his quiet presence a soothing contrast to the chaos that often surrounded her. He held a delicate book in his hands, showing her the intricacies of calligraphy, his long fingers guiding hers with a gentle patience that was entirely foreign to Claudia’s previous life.

“Like this,” [Your Name] murmured, his voice soft but commanding. He demonstrated a fluid stroke, the pen moving with elegant precision. Claudia’s brow furrowed in concentration, her hands trying to mimic his movement, though frustration danced behind her eyes.

“I can’t do it,” she huffed, but there was no real anger. With [Your Name], there never was. Slowly your hand brushed against her dark and flawless skin

“You can,” he replied calmly. “You just need time. We all do.”

There was something calming in his presence, in the way he never rushed her or demanded perfection, unlike Lestat. He was patient, treating Claudia with a respect that neither Louis nor Lestat ever fully granted her. It was perhaps why she came to see him as more than just another companion—he was a guide, a teacher, a quiet fatherly figure.

Claudia’s smile returned, albeit faint, and she tried again, her tiny strokes improving under his watchful eye.

Louis, watching from the doorway, had always been struck by the way [Your Name] interacted with her. Unlike Lestat, who sought to mold Claudia into a creature of his own making, [Your Name] let her be free. He offered her the tools to learn but never forced her hand. ---

Louis nodded, though his gaze grew more distant, his mind drifting back to those long, haunting nights. “[Your Name] didn’t speak much,” Louis continued. “He was quiet, gentle, with an aura that suggested he had seen more of the world than any of us combined. Claudia trusted him, perhaps because he never tried to control her. He let her be free, let her learn. I… I never asked about his age, but I always suspected he was ancient. He had that look about him. That weight.”

Another flashback enveloped the room. [Your Name] sat in a dimly lit corner of their home, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over his face. He was hunched over a piece of parchment, a quill gliding smoothly across its surface as he wrote in deep concentration.

Louis, standing a few feet away, watched the scene quietly. He had often wondered what thoughts lingered behind those eyes, what worlds [Your Name] inhabited when he retreated into his silence. There was a timelessness to him, a stillness that unsettled even Louis.

The quill scratched softly against the paper as [Your Name] wrote, never pausing, never hesitating. A half-finished poem lay before him—lines that hinted at an eternal sadness, at an understanding of the world that Louis could only guess at.

"In shadows deep, we dance and fade, Unseen by time, in darkness laid. A fleeting touch, a whispered cry, We live forever, yet still we die."

Louis had never dared to ask about the poem, nor about the others like it that [Your Name] left unfinished. There was always a sense that those words were not meant to be shared, that they belonged to a part of [Your Name] that remained forever out of reach.

Armand’s eyes flicked over to Louis, a subtle smile on his lips. “You never understood him,” Armand said softly, his voice almost tender. “But Claudia did.”

The room seemed to freeze again, the gravity of Armand’s words hanging between them. There was something more, something deeper beneath his tone, but Louis didn’t respond. Instead, he let the silence stretch.

Daniel, however, was unwilling to let the moment pass without prodding further. “And what about his work? His poetry?”

At this, Armand’s expression faltered, his usual controlled demeanor slipping for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but Daniel caught it. He had been waiting for this moment.

“You mean his unfinished poems,” Daniel continued, flipping through his notebook. “It’s strange, isn’t it? So much of his work was lost or… incomplete. But there’s one poem that stands out. The one about Claudia.” He paused for dramatic effect before reading a few lines:

"In her eyes, a child—yet, never to grow, Trapped in a prison of eternal woe. Her heart beats, but not with life’s fire, A doll’s existence, never to expire."

Daniel looked up, meeting Armand’s gaze. “Unfinished, of course. But haunting, nonetheless. It almost feels like he was trying to capture her essence, but couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the thought. Why do you think that is?”

Armand’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing over his features. “Because some things are too painful to complete,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Even for a vampire as old as [Your Name].”

Daniel held Armand’s gaze for a long moment before turning back to Louis. “So, he was there, part of your little family, but never truly part of it. An outsider, despite being… what, centuries old?”

Louis nodded. “He was always elusive. A shadow. There, but never fully with us. But in his own way, he cared for Claudia. I believe he loved her… as much as a creature like him could love.” Daniel snorted at Louis calling the other vampire a creature, amusing really.

Armand’s expression softened, but his eyes still held that possessive gleam. “[Your Name] was more than just a companion,” Armand said quietly, his voice dripping with something more intimate, something obsessive. “He was an artist. A mind that saw the world in ways none of us could comprehend. And in that, he was perfect.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, sensing the depth of Armand’s obsession. “It sounds like you were quite fond of him, Armand.”

“Fond?” Armand’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Fond doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He glanced at Louis, then back at Daniel, his gaze sharpening. “But I suppose you’ll find that out in time, won’t you?”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the past pressing down on all of them. Armand’s obsession with [Your Name] hung in the air, unspoken but palpable, and Daniel knew that this was only the beginning. The dim lighting of the room cast long shadows across the walls as Daniel’s voice cut through the tense air. He glanced between Louis and Armand, history lingering just beneath the surface. Louis sat stiffly, avoiding Armand’s gaze, his expression unreadable but tight with an underlying tension.

"So, how did you first meet [Your Name]?" Daniel inquired, breaking the silence. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes sharp as he caught the subtle exchange between the two vampires, but his quesion was clearly direced at Armand. Louis shifted uncomfortably, his eyes momentarily meeting Daniel’s before darting away. His hands fidgeted slightly in his lap as if the very mention of [Your Name] was enough to unravel something within him. “I need a moment,” Louis muttered, standing abruptly. Without another word, he exited the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued further by Louis’ reaction. “That was… strange. He usually holds his composure better.”

Armand watched Louis leave, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes flicked back to Daniel. “Louis is complicated when it comes to [Your Name].” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of possessiveness.

Daniel tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

Armand leaned back, folding his hands together as he considered his words. “Louis… admired [Your Name], perhaps even more than he admitted to himself. He loved him, in a way. But he never acted on it. He feared what might happen if he did. He worried about Claudia, about rejection. Louis has always been a creature ruled by guilt.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “So, you’re saying Louis was in love with [Your Name]?”

Armand gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Yes, but Louis’ love is often restrained by fear. He couldn’t risk what they had, the balance they had established. He was content with the idea of [Your Name] being there, even if he never fully pursued his desires. But me…” Armand’s smile grew, dark and intimate. “I wasn’t as restrained.”

“Obsessed?” Daniel offered, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Armand’s smile deepened, his gaze far away now as he recalled the moment that had changed everything. “Obsessed,” he repeated softly. “I first met [Your Name] at a play. I was performing for humans, entertaining them with our little charade. But when I saw him…” Armand’s voice trailed off, and the room seemed to darken as the flashback began. ---

The theater was crowded with the lively chatter of the mortal audience, the scent of cheap perfume and candle wax heavy in the air. The dim light of chandeliers flickered across the stage as the actors performed, though Armand’s attention was no longer on the play.

Seated among the audience was a figure unlike anyone Armand had ever seen. [Your Name], with his sharp jawline and hauntingly smoky red eyes, sat in the back row, a quill in hand as he scribbled across a piece of parchment. His attention wasn’t on the performance but rather on whatever he was writing, his lips barely moving as his thoughts flowed onto the page.

Armand, playing his role on stage, felt his concentration waver. The beauty of [Your Name] was undeniable—he was like a statue carved from marble, perfect and distant, entirely uninterested in the mundane theater around him. His very presence seemed to command the room in a way that no mortal could.

As the play continued, Armand found his gaze drawn back to [Your Name] again and again. There was something magnetic about him, something beyond mere physical attraction. It was as if [Your Name] belonged to another world, and Armand could not resist the pull of that world.

Unable to focus any longer on the play, Armand had finished early, much to the 'awes' of the mortals watching. He made his way discreetly toward the back of the theater, his eyes never leaving [Your Name]. The other actors continued their performance, oblivious to his distraction, as Armand approached.

When he was close enough, he could see the quill moving smoothly over the parchment, the words forming beneath [Your Name]’s skilled hand. His expression remained impassive, though there was a subtle grace to the way his jaw moved as he focused. His beauty was mesmerizing—those sharp, defined features, the way his fingers held the quill with delicate precision.

“Enjoying the play?” Armand’s voice was low, but it held a teasing edge.

[Your Name] didn’t look up immediately. Instead, he finished the line he was writing before raising his eyes to meet Armand’s. His gaze was piercing, deep red with an ancient wisdom that sent a thrill through Armand.

“Not particularly,” [Your Name] replied smoothly, his voice calm but with an underlying sharpness. “I’ve seen better.”

Armand smiled, intrigued by the indifference in [Your Name]’s tone. He had expected someone as striking as this to be swept up in the grandeur of the theater, yet here he was, completely unimpressed.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t entertain you,” Armand said, though there was no sincerity in his apology. Instead, his eyes lingered on [Your Name]’s form, taking in every detail—how his clothes fit perfectly against his body, the way the flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, making him look almost ethereal.

“You seem distracted,” [Your Name] remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your performance?”

Armand chuckled softly. “Perhaps, but I’ve found something far more interesting.” His gaze lingered, making his intent clear.

[Your Name] raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?” --

The flashback faded as Armand’s voice broke through the memory, returning Daniel and the present audience to the dimly lit room. Armand’s eyes were dark with longing, his tone soft as he spoke again.

“That was the first time I saw him,” Armand murmured, his voice almost reverent. “He captivated me in a way no one ever had before. There was something… otherworldly about him. From that moment on, I knew I had to have him, despite the fact that I was...Occupied with Louis at this time”

Daniel remained quiet, letting the weight of Armand’s words settle in the room. The intensity of Armand’s obsession was palpable, and it was clear that this story was far from over

[first-class-feral]

brad dourif scrungly feature analysis: eyes

from the “Boys” dourif-hottie supercut music video:

I’d love to see an artist break this down!

For now, let me write you a novel about Brad's spectacular eyes...

The Strangeness

(Skip if you want to preserve the mystery.) BD's right eye is placed a little higher, and turned up as if tugged from the outer corner. I think it's part of that subtle something that immediately sets him apart. This unique, catlike, romantic asymmetry snatches your attention.

.

The glow

His striking, chameleonic blues capture light — even in B&W — which directors loooooove to exploit by lighting him obliquely:

It's a great way to crank up the eerie vibe of any scene, and I respect Star Trek for trashing that option outright with all-black contacts. (Of course, he still served an incredibly compelling outsider.)

(Edit: I put up a post just about this effect because they seriously do it all the damn time) (...because it's awesome)

Set in shadows

He has hooded eyes, deep-set and accentuated by heavy eye bags. The shadows and textures draw you in toward those luminescent irises, like picture frames that amplify each motion of his eyes.

.

Contrast

Sometimes he pops them wide open, creating these huge, expressive magnets...

...Or squints lopsidedly...

...Or interrogates, challenges, threatens — alert but defensive, like a prey animal on the edge of lashing out.

He’s said he chooses roles that "turn him on" (pretty clearly in an artistic sense); many of these blend menace and vulnerability, and our boy dumps emotion into every. single. line. This can manifest as an intense, wary, combative look, with eyes wide under neutral or furrowed brows:

.

Cry, baby

...And that's all before we mention the tears. He cries, of course, at will and liberally, and his eyes go red-rimmed and wet, highlighting them even more as he pins someone's soul to the wall with his gaze.

When he hovers right on the edge, they seem to shine in the dark.

.

Bared

At times, his fair eyelashes almost vanish, compounding his unusual look with a birdlike or reptilian tinge.

Obviously, the shaved brows in LOTR add to this effect.

A couple more things you'll notice here: he'll hold his eyes wide open for much longer than normal, drawing out these moments and making him seem even more alien.

And when he gets up-close in someone's face (which is often), he's constantly switching his gaze between their eyes — totally fixated, as if scanning for emotional feedback. In my opinion, it adds to that vulnerability: to the object of his attention, he must seem like a predator freezing them in place... but it's also desperate, like a prey animal trying to decipher the other person's intent, all senses tuned to pick up their slightest signal. (Gríma Wormtongue and Jack Dante especially have this pathetic air about them: grasping at sources of warmth while lashing out at the harsh, unintelligible world around them, allying themselves with uncontrollable destructive forces in an attempt to establish a place for themselves........)

.

TL;DR

The eyes — and how he uses them — are the standout scrungly feature, the main reason we can’t look away from this unforgettable weirdo.

The cat-eye asymmetry pulls focus;

His ice-blue irises are light traps, framed in textured shadow;

His full-bore emotional commitment ramps up the anguish and torment to an aching crescendo that's impossible to ignore.

Eventually I'll follow up on other contributing factors, but for now, I'll leave you with a couple of article snippets about The Eyes:

Imagi-Movies: Vol 1 No 2 — Winter 1993/94. Pages 11-13: "Traumatic - Brad Dourif". Link

SoHo News: November-December 1981. "Tension and mercy - Brad Dourif glowers for our sins" (an article all about his eyes! But they don't mention the asymmetry.)

[Gifs were mostly stolen from the GOAT, @exdeputysonso — with some of my own, mostly the square ones. Shout-out to @dragonsbloodsnowcone for inspiring this word vomit.]

Thanks for reading!

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

i see there's shipping discussion occurring in your ask box so i figure i'll throw in my two cents as well!

i used to be a REALLY heavy shipper, in exactly that shallow "reduce their personalities to the concept of kissing each other" way that tons of people are complaining about. i wouldn't get into ship wars or harass people or anything, but i was totally the kind of person who you couldn't just have a level character discussion with— because i would be pretty intent on just going through the motions with whatever best friend or acquaintance I'd decided they had a huge crush on.

by contrast now my biggest most important "ships" end up all being somewhere between 3-5 people with a lot of care put into the nuances of each connection on the relationship chart— i still refer to them as poly ships (as a shorthand mostly), but of the 3 to 10 different relationships between the characters, i usually only see a few of them as romantic or sexual, with the majority a lot closer to a found family or queerplatonic sort of vibe

honestly i think the biggest reason for the reductive style of shipping was that 1) i wasn't as skilled a writer then as i am now, so i wasn't really sure how to really retain all of the features of a character that i liked, and 2) i wanted the biggest feelings IMMEDIATELY and there's some kind of instant gratification to shipping where the end goal is for them to kiss and you can just draw/write/think about them kissing and you're done.

it's kind of like the instant ramen of fictional relationships to me. it's kind of "one size fits all", low writing skill requirement, low effort, really really fast and easy, and ultimately not really that rewarding at the end of it. and just like how real actual ramen exists separately from instant noodle cups, it IS possible to write a really amazing and beautiful and deep romantic ship fic that successfully plays off of the kinds of people these characters are, but ramen still isn't the end-all be-all of relationships! there are so many different hypothetical dishes that could be made with the same characters!

and my personal favorite is polyqueerplatonic ships for this very reason, because with just a few characters you can get a whole diverse array of interactions and dynamics!!

anyway tldr; i think romantic shipping is fun, and even "cheap" reductive romantic shipping can be fun, but (to return to my instant noodles metaphor) it would be reasonably upsetting to attend an awesome community potluck only to find like 90% cup noodles. and the people serving the cup noodles frown at you whenever you ask if anyone's serving like, gourmet spaghetti or dumplings or something.

so just know that if you're bringing your silly "ouhhh they should kiss" fan works to the fandom, you're appreciated and I'm glad you're having fun, and if you're bringing the super precisely thought-out nuanced relationship fan works to the fandom, you are ALSO so appreciated and additionally i really wish there were more of you in my own fandoms.

flashbacks to the time i looked up a ship that i THOUGHT was pretty popular but it only had like 230 works on AO3 at the time and basically all of them were romantic instead of my hyper-specific one-sided queerplatonic one-sided fully platonic thing i had pictured in my mind....

Okay, as someone who has tried their hand at writing slow burn in the past, I totally get the instant gratification thing. "You know when would be a good time for them to kiss? NOW"

I'd get frustrated at my own characters for not just making out already and I was the one writing them not making out lmao

[moe-broey]

Would you like some strangely elaborate specific ass headcanons? Of course you do!!!! Also I'm outsourcing a very specific dilemma. But you have to Learn My Methods first. Okay? Okay!!!!

PIERCINGS. AS STORYTELLING DEVICES. GO!!!!

Okay! So what the hell are we looking at and what exactly am I trying to determine, here? Well!!! There's a few different facets to this.

FIRST OF ALL. REALLY REALLY CUTE AND ALWAYS SO FUN TO ME

One, two, three!!! They're a set of three, and they're marked as such by how many sets of piercings they have in their ears. It's such a small detail that happened more by coincidence than intent, but it makes drawing all three of them together feel coherent and again, fun! I also really like the storytelling/contrast of the Askr siblings having golden jewerly, while Moe's is in silver (it does mix silver and gold more broadly -- but I'm talking just the face/ears here!). You get the sense (... in addition to Moe's more scruffy appearance in general), that one is from a more "common" background.

Okay, but what's all that text? STORYTELLING.... 2

Piercings, as a way to indicate connections to other characters, and to imply background information.

First example, it's noted that Bruno has had his in for a long time (... kind of regretting the specificness of "as a kid". That's supposed to have implications, but tbh it may be more fitting for Bruno as a whole to simply have said, "A Long Time"). He wears something modest, maybe a common stone, but still eye-catching. I like to think Alfonse became enamored with it (guys can also do this???), same way he was completely smitten by all of Zacharias. One extremely questionable piercing job courtesy of Zacharias himself and egged on by Sharena (who made a generous donation and/or sacrifice from her own jewelry box) later, it's a miracle he managed to heal them. Equally impressive is how long he managed to hide them as a teenager.

Meanwhile, you see Sharena's example is pretty straightforward! Assigned ear-stabbing at birth. It worked out well, though! Aside from that one time where her piercings mysteriously closed up and they had to be re-done, when she was little. Which could mean nothing. Alls well that ends well! In fact, she liked the look so much she decided to get another set done! Which may or may not come back later...

I will admit, the saddle plugs on Bruno were an impulse decision I made drawing this out (so not a super strong design headcanon, and maybe I could draw it better w more practice tbh, test run ect ect), BUT. MORE IMPORTANTLY. That idea, AND NEXT UP: STORYTELLING... 3.

On top of noting significant connections and providing background information -- here, you have gaining more and/or doing different Things with your piercings, as a way to indicate the passage of time or a change of taste. Woah, that's a lot of text! That's just my autism showing, I'll do you a favor -- with Moe specifically, the biggest takeaway here is:

One, two, three. There are other iderations of Moe of course, plenty of awkward in-between stages. But as I've developed it, I've found that there's like... three really plot relevant parts of its life. One easy to forget, two OH GOD OH FUCK, three that's the guy who lives here now. AWESOME!!!!

OKAY. OKAY. PEONY she has BEEN HERE THIS WHOLE TIME. What's up with that?

So we have background implications/information, we have connections to other characters, and NOW. WE HAVE. Paths that diverge. Sharena, 2. Peony, 1. Plus, a little bit of shape language with those tear drop earrings... on Sharena specifically...... ohghhghhf........

I've always been really indecisive with my Peony designs (for some reason it has been SUCH A STRUGGLE FOR ME), but I do like the simplicity of this one actually. The "Princess Peach core" note about Sharena is more about her color palette, but after writing that I went You know what. Fuck it *gives Peony Princess Peach earrings*. This does feel subject to change, but the idea they could be like water droplets is so cutes... I have really wanted to give Peony earrings with a blue gem though, BECAUSE...

The blue and silver are a nod to this reoccurring detail on Peony! So not only does it tie back to Sharena (IMPORTANT), it also (theoretically.) ties together nicely overall!!

Okay. So. Where does this leave me. Why did I draw all this out? All these little details that exist in my mind, why did I go out of my way to create this elaborate in-depth demonstration? Remember when I said I was gonna outsource some shit?

PROBLEM: I NEVER. EVER. EVEEEERRRRRR KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH LIF'S EARRINGS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ AND THE LACK OF DIRECTION IS BECOMING MORE AND MORE GLARING EVERY FUCKING TIME I DRAW HIM‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

And what prompted all of this. What REALLY made me Think About This. I did another "ehhh Fuck It" with Lif's piercings, where he's sharing a panel with Moe, and

Ooughgughfhghhh...... them having the same earring arrangement.

But then. Then. I got autism brained about it. I can see Bruno having fuck all time to stretch his ears while on some gayass journey (... the. Timelines. Time in between Events. Maybe he wouldn't have full big stretched ears in Book 1. HOWEVER). Inconvenient, maybe, but if he's dedicated to the grind. He can do it. And I mean, have you seen his muscles? Dude CARES about his appearance. Meanwhile Moe ABSOLUTELY had fuck all time to stretch its ears before arriving in Askr. Then I'm thinking about Alfonse. NEVERMIND how much time it takes to stretch your ears, I'm thinking about the Number Rules. I'm thinking about how he's One, the first guy of a set of Three. I'm thinking about the Number Rule, to indicate Time. Why WOULD he have Three? The Number Rule, as Paths Diverging. There's Two of him, not Three. ALSO ASKING MYSELF "Would Alfonse get more piercings???" LIKE NO. BECAUSE. THE. THE RULE OF THREE. THE ONE TWO THREE. WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😫😫😫😫😫

Idk am I just insane. Am I a lost cause. Lif's ears are usually covered up by his long shaggy hair anyway. But really that does just make any time any piercings Would be visible, just. I am just so deeply conflicted torn between Goth Alt Men Hot and THE METHODS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE STORYTELLING THE METHODS MY DEEPLY INTRICATE RITUALS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[pestorik]

can you please expand on deuce/riddle ??? im rlly curious abt them tgt in your AU,,,,

(if you have the time i would also love to read abt azurid & mallerid :D ! no pressure though! im mostly interested in deurid ^^)

the riddle ship trifecta...

i enjoy them bc i think riddle really needs a calm presence in his life that makes him feel like he can act in ways he never had the freedom to do before, without feeling judged or made fun of. whether that is acting childish and silly or just expressing emotion freely. he's obviously really sensitive to being teased so he needs someone who is ok with that and just finds joy in his joy.

i relate to this a lot bc i myself am a very sensitive person, and get emotional really easy but im also very cynical and dry, so i think ppl see that contrast and find it funny. which is fine, but i get hurt or annoyed really easily by teasing bc i think what i really want is for someone to see how easily i get emotional (like crying at almost every movie i watch) and rather than seeing it as smth weird and funny, they recognize my empathy as something good. i want someone to see the value and worth in my emotions, no matter how trivial they seem.

and i think riddle needs that too. deuce isnt super smart but i think he's really earnest and riddle would appreciate that about him. he shows a lot of self awareness in recognizing how his past actions hurt his mom, and realizing he needs to be proactive if he wants to be a better person. very few ppl are willing to admit when they are the problem. he's just a very soft guy, but like, passionately soft. he wants so bad to be good. and i think he would want so badly for riddle to be happy, it would become really important to him just like his mom's happiness.

malleus is super honest about his intentions, which i think riddle needs bc his lack of social skills leave him anxious. he probably would get too frustrated having to play games and guess feelings. malleus just has a super calming presence and riddle needs that so bad. i think they are both pretty awkward bc of their upbringing so maybe they could find comfort in each other, knowing there's no judgement.

azul is none of these things lol 😂 i do NOT think these 2 would be a perfect healthy couple but i enjoy their dynamic. riddle is sensitive ofc but hes also super smart which is why i like the thought of them together. the two top students, not really in a competitive way, more like they recognize each other's weaknesses but also highly respect each other. to the point that they wouldnt ever make a move against the other. i could see them having a more loving relationship but in my mind they are more like a power couple lmao. like two powerhouses joining forces. i do think seeing riddle trying to overcome his own trauma and be a nicer person could inspire azul to do smth similar, realizing that if he likes and respects riddle, there must be some value in kindness without reward.

none of these would be canon in the AT au unfortunately, at least not in my mind (you can do whatever you like with it tho, it also doesnt mean i wont still talk/draw about it). there would definitely still be interactions among them with plenty of room for interpretation. obviously the most between deuce and riddle bc they are both HL.

i could see an episode where riddle recruits deuce to help him repair one of the elephant guardians (since deuce is good at repairing stuff) and they become closer. bc deuce used to get up to a lot of trouble he also has a lot knowledge of some of the rougher parts of the kingdom (im referring to deuces former crew as the spoiled fruit gang) and probably accompanies riddle when he needs to go there. riddle might sometimes go to deuce for advice on his relationship w his mother, since deuce is close w his mom. it would be cute if deuces mom came to really adore riddle and gave him a lot of the experiences he didnt get w his own mother.

[pointrudiment]

Theories On Other Tai and Van Dynamic…

We know that Tai and Other Tai compartmentalize memories and information and also that Other Tai acts as a dissociative outlet for Tai when necessary.

I think Tai seems so capable of moving forward and succeeding because she often feels so separate from her memories (often memories are being relayed to her) above them even (this contributes to and inspires disbanding relationships with those who survived the wilderness including Van).

Van is the only emotional component in Tai’s psyche that is shared with Other Tai. After the wolf attack, Other Tai accepts Van’s presence and encourages it. Ironically, Tai shows little respect for Van’s belief in her counterpart while Other Tai exhibits full respect for Van’s dedication to it. This is definitely a recipe for disaster because in her denial, Tai cannot even allow Van to love her. And it’s devastating to her adult life because she’s only willing to accept love that maintains her denial.

I think that even before the first scene in the adult timeline of season 1, Other Tai knows about Van’s cancer (yes, I know that Van was not intended to be a surviving character at that point, but I’m working with the narrative as a whole now whether or not this was the intent of the creators, so go with me).

The information was given to Tai by Jessica Roberts. Tai dissociates the information as she does with all of her triggers, but this one prompts Other Tai to remerge because Van is their only source of connection to one another shattering Tai’s tight control (along this same vein, I do think that when Other Tai remerges in the wilderness after season 2, it has something to do with Van’s safety).

Other Tai tells Sammy about Van (the red head by a heart in his drawings which he has drawn smiling, healthy, and bright in stark contrast to the frowning, exed-out, dark images). This gives us an intimate portrait of how Other Tai sees Van and that Other Tai will stop at nothing to keep Van as Sammy drew her. These drawings could also be Other Tai’s plans to get to Van.

Sammy begins to exhibit some potential, “Other Sammy”, behaviors. This wouldn’t be surprising considering Tai’s first encounter with, The Man With No Eyes, was at her grandmothers deathbed at a similar age. Sammy’s introduction to this other entity is also at the potential of a deathbed, so to speak (van). It is almost being presented here as a physical manifestation of generational trauma passed on at the coming of a time of death. This is more evidence to the depth of the connectedness between Other Tai and Van.

Tai can refuse to acknowledge this, but Other Tai is quick to share as she recognizes Sammy as kindred. Mutilating his toy and framing him for painting on the door were actions that were almost sibling-like in nature which denotes inherent fondness. This is why Other Tai manipulated a scenario in order to hurt Simone that did not actually involve Sammy. Sammy and Van are now both tied up in Tai and Other Tai’s battle for control over her consciousness because they are both loved by each personality.

Other Tai sacrifices the family dog in order to give Van more time while she finds a way to get to her. I also think that Van has known that Tai would eventually seek her out again when Other Tai remerged. It’s why the visit was tense and fraught but not completely a surprise.

Despite Van’s opposition to any of Tai’s attempts at connecting what’s happening with Other Tai to Van, she keeps Tai around; brushing it off each time Tai says that she shouldn’t have come. Van still believes in the significance of Other Tai.

Even though she has long given up on Tai herself, she is still holding on to Other Tai as the anchor to what once was or could be. As messed up and violent as Other Tai can be, Other Tai wanted, accepted, and let Van in without condition.

The ritual continued at Lottie’s compound because I think Other Tai told Van it needed to (or more likely Van concluded that was Other Tai’s intention from the beginning) and Van said what she had to, to Tai in order to make it happen or in the least to open up the possibility of it. Van knows that Other Tai and Lottie both commune with the same entity and probably didn’t think it was a coincidence they were in that situation. I don’t think it had anything to do with a desire for violence directly, but more a desire to be a part of something bigger than herself especially already being on the brink of death. And also a desire to let happen what happens; to be able to release control one last time of the internal chaos that has had the reigns over her life. Over all their lives. Van didn’t trust expressing this to Tai.

Anyways, moving forward…I don’t think Other Tai is done sabotaging the life Tai built in spite of her especially if Tai attempts to pick up some of the pieces. She will have to tread carefully and I think she will know that she can’t move through it without Van. But Van will not be an easy sell. Van will remind Tai that Tai specifically moved forward without her. There will be such an angsty dynamic with trust and grief here because it took Tai over 20 years to learn what Van knew all along and tried to tell her from the get go and she was stubborn at the expense of everyone she claimed to love. I’m not sure Van will fully trust Tai especially if/when Other Tai is dormant. She will think it is a ploy of Tai’s. And I think Tai will continue to be weary of Van’s propensity to trust Other Tai but not her. She will think it is a ploy of Van’s.

[lifmera]

OH MY GOD I TYPED UP A WHOLE THING AND ACCIDENTALLY LOST IT OH MY FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOD I HATE IT HERE- anyways *ahem* attempt no. 2 of me asking you for a Hazbin Hotel match because I have never done this kinda thing before and I'm curious :)

GENDER AND SEXUALITY: I'm non-binary, they/he/she pronouns. I generally don't have a preference between the three tbh but I do appreciate ppl mixing it up! I'm sex-repulsed asexual and gray-biromantic. Again no real preference lmfao

APPEARANCE: White, dark blonde hair, green eyes, just below 5'3, pretty basic looking all things considered. I've got a pretty angular face I think. I'm afab and don't shave cuz it's too much work. I wear pretty much exclusively graphic tees(band shirts, dumb jokes, fandom stuff... that kinda thing) or button ups with funky patterns paired w/ the comfiest pants I can find, but occasionally I'll pull myself together enough to make a dencent(?) outfit, typically reminiscent of shit scene kids in the early 2000s would wear. I also like dying my hair but usually don't bcuz I procrastinate on it for too long.

PERSONALITY: If I had to describe it in one word? Unhinged. I am unhinged. 7/10 people will agree I am a very frightening person to be around. I say out of pocket shit(ranging from vile sex jokes to just straight up threats of violence) pretty regularly. I also like to sneak up on ppl and make very loud noises just to see their reactions... *ahem* anyways, despite all that, most of my friends would also describe me as caring and loyal! I have low empathy, so the only way I ever understand any of my friends emotions is by using my own experiences to compare and contrast until I have a decent idea of what's going on in their head, but I AM very good at psychoanalyzing people and providing objective, unbiased thoughts & advice on their situations. I would also literally go to war for my friends. Like, if you hurt one of them say your goddamn PRAYERS because I am coming to your location with a knife and murderous intent. I'm kinda awkward & shy at first, but at my core I AM an extrovert. I just don't know how to talk to ppl bcuz I am ✨neurodivergent✨(autism & ADHD) and have a hard time approaching ppl bcuz I don't know if they'll like me or not. Typically I make friends by making very loud jokes and waiting for somebody to approach me because they like my sense of humor. Which speaking of, I am very funny! Most people I interact with regularly would agree I am a very funny person!!! I'm also really good at media analysis and making arguments. I don't do well in debates because I choke under the pressure(gotta work on that tbh), but I'm good at writing argumentative essays. Plus, I'm pretty good at just bold face lying to people so overall I can be pretty damn convincing. I like adrenaline rushes and try to actively seek out new experiences as long as I'm confident they won't cause me any significant damage(socially or physically) in the long run. Which is unfortunately not many because I am INCREDIBLY paranoid. Like to the point of accidentally staying up til 3am cuz I'm convinced someone's gonna break into my house and kill me... I also have depression, severe dissociation issues, and existential dread which is. Fun. That's fun. I also have a tendancy to go down random rabbit holes and obsess over inconsequential details in shows I like to the point of making whole ass conspiracy theories :)

LIKES: Cartoons, drawing, writing, acting, singing, reading fanfic, watching YouTube, long drives, listening to music, jumpscaring ppl, being funny, ziplining, problem solving, video essays, ghost hunting shows, supernatural stuff in general, psychology, media analysis, frogs, sharks, ferrets, cats, violence, chocolate, Drawfee(YT channel), glitter, and just. So many fandoms. Just so many.

DISLIKES: Slimey shit, being touched(most of the time, there are occasional exceptions), being touch starved DESPITE not liking being touched, ppl insulting my interests(only I get to do that), media illiteracy, projects I'm not invested in, ppl putting preasure on me, mosquitoes, existential dread, dissociating, being tired all the time, being wrong, taking risks, feeling vulnerable, and stories with a lot of potential that just. Don't do anything with said potential.

PREFERENCES?: Uh. Someone significantly taller than me(shouldn't be hard Hazbin characters are fucking huge) that'll listen to my insane rants and is able to match my energy.

Akdncksmfnsmdsn I rlly hope I did this right again it's my first time doing anything like this-

HEYYYYYY!!! FINALLY GOT TO YOU 😜

Honestly I was debating on like a few different characters BUT!

I’ve decided to pair you with… LUTE!

Honestly I think she’d also be sex repulsed. She’s definitely more of a romantic lover! Though she doesn’t show it.

I think she talked to you at first because your style choices reminded her of Adam- and obviously, she misses him like crazy

If you did dye your hair often with her, she’d probably want to help you! I think she’d apply the color so it doesn’t get messy :)

She LOVES your personality. She thinks you are similar to her in many ways!

She also would need to experience it herself. She’s pretty stoic and doesn’t show her emotions. She’d probably think it’d make herself look weak.

I think you both would definitely fight back to back 24/7! You both would fight to the DEATH for each other.

She loves how caring you are for other people- it gives her a different sense of pace. Someone new!

I think Lute would see a TINY BIT through your lies. Lute is very observant with EVERYTHING.

She’d love if you made jokes. She need’s something less boring in her life than just standing there.

Adrenaline rushes? Totally join the exorcists- and you can be her right hand!!

She’d try to help you through paranoia, but you shouldnt worry much. She’s STRONG asf!

She’d LOVE TO HEAR CONSPIRACIES!! she would think they are SO COOL.

Although she isn’t much taller- I think she’d around 5’8 personally. She just looks small bc shes always next to Adam who’s HUGE!

She may not be able to match your energy, only because she’ll need to come out of her shell more- she’s always listening. She has ears EVERYWHERE.

~~~~

HOPE THIS WAS OKAY ❣️

[dustedmagazine]

Kelby Clark — Language of the Torch (Tentative Power)

Kelby Clark is an LA-by-way-of-Georgia banjo player who blends divergent styles and approaches to forge his own novel direction for the instrument. Over a series of mostly self-released home-spun recordings from the past five or so years, he has honed his approach, expanding the traditions of his point of origin in the American south to include free improvisation and eastern modalities — an alchemy familiar to Sandy Bull, a fellow stretcher of the vocabulary of the banjo and of the concept of “folk” and the traditional. His sparse and appropriately fiery new LP Language of the Torch, available January 10th of next year from Tentative Power, represents a significant milestone in his development of his own science of the banjo, a statement of intent for his artistic practice. It also marks the inaugural 12” LP release from the Baton Rouge, Louisiana label.

Across the seven searching pieces that make up Language of the Torch, Clark constructs a labyrinthine world of music from solo banjo and occasional, subdued harmonium, centered around two longform tracks, “Tennessee Raag Pt.1” and “Tennessee Raag Pt. 3” – there is no part two. These songs help situate the album among its influences, the titles suggesting an imaginational space where Appalachia and India overlap, an interzone frequently visited by practitioners of “American Primitive” music. The intentionally skewed numbering invokes John Fahey, another sometime-raga-obsessive, whose volumes of guitar music are numbered in a non-sensical, non-sequential manner, thumbing the nose at the very concept of numbers and of archiving or cataloging art in volumes. Clark improvises and composes, but on Language of the Torch, the two lengthy “Raags” and the six-minute opening salvo, “Time’s Arc,” feel like the compositions that anchor the shorter, more exploratory tracks that fall between them. Clark’s banjo twangs and drones almost sitar-like during these mesmerizing endurance runs, rough edges flattening over time like water-worn limestone.

In contrast to the patience of these bucolic “Raags,” the shorter tracks on Language of the Torch have an immediacy and attack to them and entertain more old-time flourishes. The concise title cut is perhaps the most traditional, the bends and swoops here feel related to Americana, a brief nod to and deconstruction of familiar forms. Clark is a fluid player, but the percussive nature of the banjo can run counter to fluidity — the most explosive of these improvisations, “Apis,” begins abruptly with an aggressive right-hand trill before it clatters apart and back together again like a musical version of Marcel Duchamp’s Modernist classic “Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2.” This song is a stand-out and the heaviest example of Clark’s burning vision for the banjo, the “concert instrument” ambition expressed by his forebears in the American Primitive movement.

All traditional forms of music, from Indian Classical to Appalachian Old-Time and permutations between, seem narrowly determined upon a superficial look but reveal their universal nature to those willing to let go of semiotics and sink into their visionary streams. This makes these forms excellent starting points for experimentation, established structures that contain the instructions to build new universes, if one is bold enough to try to read them, and that is what Kelby Clark attempts here with the 5-string banjo and the various traditions from which he draws inspiration. The liner notes for Language of the Torch take the form of a poem by hammered dulcimer player Jen Powers, a fellow traveler on the path of exploding the scope of the traditional. I think the passage below illuminates the process at hand, the conversation between tradition and interpreter:

And maybe now you're wondering whether you are the conjurer or the conjured, and if you really want to know which it is

Josh Moss

[kylieswift31]

Tick tock! Tick tock!

It's a clock!

In yesterday’s post I explained the background behind how I created this interpretation of Taylor's vault. That isn’t necessary to understand this post, but feel free to check it out if you want to learn more. Today we're going to explore how we could connect the vault to the clocks seen throughout Taylor's music videos.

My intention behind these deep dives is to provide an alternative point of view to to the more well known interpretations of Easter eggs in the hope of uncovering something we've missed along the way. If any of this sparks an idea, feel free to explore it.

The layers

With the chart above we can see that the inner ring contains the two double albums, the tortured poets department and folkmore, combining to represent the contrasting properties of colour. There's the light of summer, dark of winter, warm of spring and cool of fall/autumn. This is echoed in the second ring too, with the contrast between tint and tone of each quadrant. The colours associated with this ring also form a rainbow. And then combine both rings together in order of album release and you get the outer rings that line up with the segments of a clock.

The clocks

There are many clocks used throughout Taylor's music videos. For the purpose of this exploration I'll skip over the clocks that are in the background, like the one in the cardigan music video where the hands point to 1 and 3.

You need to calm down

The Benji clock shows the numbers 3 - 13 and is missing numbers 1 and 2. The time is showing that it's 7 o'clock which matches up with the lover era this music video is from. The 1 and 2 being missing is a little suspicious, but might just be drawing our eye to the 13 instead.

Bejewelled beginning

For the shell shaped clock we see that the golden writing reveals that exile ends in 03, 02. The clock is also missing the 3, 6 and 9. If we compare this to the outer ring of the vault door we can see that these line up with speak now, reputation and evermore. The way the words exile ends covers the 3 and 9 hint at those eras playing an important part in Taylor's story. This is interesting if you consider folklore and evermore were bonus albums added during the pandemic. If that's the case, the tortured poets department would have been the ninth era. And then the 3 and 2 seems to be counting down to the debut era.

Now we need to consider that Taylor's Easter eggs might contain bait and switch scenarios to increase the difficulty level of the ones hinting at events further into the future. The count down of the 3 and 2 is the more obvious answer, but the clock hands pointing to 12 o'clock might be the main number we need to pay attention to. Or it’s the connection between 3, 6 and 9.

Bejewelled ending

The clock at the ending of the bejewelled music video is pointing towards the 3, but we can't see the small hand of the clock. Taylor's body is pointing towards the 6 and 12 with her hands raising to stretch out to the side. The time on the clock is similar to the time on Big Ben in the Peter Pan movie.

Karma

The karma coffee cup is one of the most talked about easer eggs, second to the man wall. Here we can see a black nail lined up with the 2 and a blue nail lined up with the 8. At the very end the clock begins moving as it ticks over to midnight.

Miss Americana

In a previous post I had flipped and mirrored the man wall picture to create a clock, similar to the faces on the king and queen playing cards. Through doing this I discovered that the black nail might actually be for the lover era, and not for reputation. Taylor's aesthetic changed to black when she was prevented from coming out and the cover of the Miss Americana documentary mirrored that. Taylor has shown us that she sees herself as the male character at times. This duality reflects the public and private versions of Taylor. The 1989 era nail guided the layout of the middle ring of the vault that creates a rainbow, but we can also see it also represents the divide between both sides of Taylor.

Eras tour

These two karma cup nails also line up to the pattern on the eras tour clock as well. This too appears to be flipped and mirrored. It is possible the mismatched symmetry was on purpose to draw your attention to the clock before the show starts.

The vaults

The first time we see a vault in Taylor's music videos begins in the reputation era. We know that Taylor was aware that her first six albums would get sold at some point after she left her first record label, but wasn't sure when it would happen.

Look what you made me do

This vault is being robbed by five versions of Taylor wearing cat masks, who are said to represent different eras. It's interesting that there's yellow for fearless but not purple for speak now. The colours also remind me of power rangers, where the pink and yellow power rangers were girls. I'm curious to know if the back door of the vault was just a stylistic choice or if the cats are a diversion for what's being taken or left in the vault. The handcuffs and briefcases also could be a hint towards the briefcase from the man music video.

I bet you think about me

The stained glass window in this music video has 13 quadrants and almost looks like a halo too.

I can see you

This vault intrigues me the most, but more specifically the Taylor that's left inside of it. We can see on the walls that she has been keeping a tally of how long she's been exiled for. The supporting characters from the mean music video being in this one too suggests Taylor has been in the vault since the original era. Speak now is linked to the 3 on the outer ring, but on the middle ring it's linked to the time just before midnight.

The man wall

And this connection to midnight brings us back to the man wall. If we flip it upside down, the man lines up with the clock hands on the karma coffee cup.

The vault clock

Now if we combine both the clocks and the vaults together, we can see how each ring represents a deeper layer of Taylor the further towards the middle we get.

The clock hands

Both the Taylor and the Man can be seen as clock hands for each layer of the vault door. The man is at midnight, and Taylor is at dawn. Another interpretation is that they represent two versions of Taylor stuck inside the vault.

Outer ring

This layer represents the pop star persona of Taylor. All albums are present here. This vault clock is slightly different to the one at the start of this post to more accurately represent the changing of the hour, and the first one is to highlight the album numbers.

The black nail between fearless and speak now links to the Taylor in the vault between reputation and lover. And the blue nail near evermore connects to the man with one foot between TS12 and debut. This reflects both the times when Taylor has had to pull back and stay closeted and the times when she had plans to come out.

Each half of this outer ring also represents Taylor’s journey starting her career and restarting with a new recording contract. The albums opposite each other could be worth comparing. Speak now and evermore keep standing out to me.

Middle ring

The next layer seems to represent the inner feelings of Taylor during these eras, or a glimpse at the underside of her experiences. Just like the daisy is said to represent the straight presenting and queer side. Comparing these albums to the colours used on the man wall might reveal their dark side. The connection between the wheel of the year and speak now ties into my previous theories around Taylor's use of the colour purple as a queer symbol. The painted nails here line up with the lover and 1989 era.

The inner ring

Lastly, these eras are devoid of colour compared to the previous ring and reveal the truest version of Taylor underneath. Or in other words, the effects closeting has had on her life.

Two graves, one gun

As we can see in the midnights music videos, the count down to midnight ends at the end of the karma music videos. The first music video we get after that includes Taylor escaping from the vault and then the fortnight video shows another Taylor escaping from the asylum.

Are there only two Taylor’s stuck within the vaults?

If so, who's been holding the gun?

The briefcase

It seems like there's a possibility that there is one person responsible for both Taylor's in the grave or vault. It's hard to tell if this is someone in her life or another version of Taylor. Either way, I think the contents of the briefcase might contain the karma that Taylor has been hinting at since reputation. This look is really giving "try and come for my job" energy.

The trap

I still keep coming back to the storyline of the parent trap with the two halves of the photo. I believe this is what the moon and Saturn in the karma music video represent. The light, dark, warm and cool contrasting colours is heavily used in the movie to represent the relationships with their parents living seperate lives on opposite sides of the world with one child each. Initially, Hallie and Annie despise each other when they meet at summer camp, until they realise they're twins. They spend the rest of camp planning to trade places so they can spend time with their other parent, before teaming up to scare off their future step mother with the hopes of their parents getting back together.

This battle of wills between two pairs of two leads me back to the connection between the four quadrants of the tortured poets department and folkmore. Just like the midnights clock is made up of four album covers, the inner ring of the vault might be the first step towards reuniting all versions of Taylor.

If rescuing the two Taylor’s completes the middle ring, what completes the next two rings? Perhaps the set list changes are leading towards the next big change. Or maybe TS12 in the form of an album, documentary or book completes the final layer?

Regardless of what happens next, it’s been empowering watching Taylor reclaim her past.

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

[synthwayve]

Who are your FIVE favorite Bloodborne characters and also why? (Yes sorry there are three more to choose from besides Micolash and Laurence 😞)

Thank you for the ask!! This really made me think tbh

1. Micolash (to nobody’s surprise)

He was actually not the first bloodborne boss fight I ever saw, but his fight captivated me nonetheless. His design is just so COOL. I can’t get over it. I always saw him as a gigantic meme but then I got into the lore more and realized wow, this character has a lot to him! Medical malpractice, insanity, possible regret, you name it! I always thought his contrast against what I’d heard of Laurence was interesting too, and now that I’m deep in the trenches it just gets better haha.

2. Rom (okay this might be a bit surprising)

As much as I draw other characters, Rom is super close to my heart. Im not the sharpest crayon in the box(and never have been) so her character is very endearing to me: I see her as having been the sort of person who yearns to be useful. To be good at something. Everyone could reassure her that “you don’t have to be smart or talented, you’re kind!” But when you’re surrounded by the extraordinary, the bar of “decent person” just doesn’t cut it. I think she ascended in an attempt to fix this, to be “special” like her peers, and not the sometimes-funny airheaded woman she thinks they take her to be. Also, her design is just very cool x,D

3. Laurence

His character has a lot of sides, which is ironic since he is a dlc boss and has maybe 4 lines of dialogue total lmao. I think that he had good intentions that rotted under the weight of his leadership, and he’s definitely super fun to work with on his own even outside of other character dynamics. If he’s manipulative and bordering on cruel, why is he like that? If he’s sweet but just misguided, why didn’t he give up on the blood before it blew up in his face? Should we feel bad for him? Should we feel angry? There’s a lot to think about- he’s a fun character to both design and interpret!

4. Caryll

I love Caryll’s entire concept, and the Caryll-rune system is particularly interesting to me. I like how many sides there can be to this character! I’ve always been one to heavily reference lore, but not tie myself down to it, so I just like their general vibe and the possibilities of their placement in the story. I’m sure if I stuck to the lore religiously I’d actually like them a bit less, since to me, the mystery around them is a big part of the character! I like to imagine their relations with the others too :)

5. Edgar

This was really hard to pick between him and Damian tbh, I put them at about the same level. Edgar is very flexible as a character but he has solid lore points that can’t be easily ignored, which I really appreciate! His possible dynamic with Micolash is always super interesting and I love the juxtaposition of a very accountant-coded character lugging around Ludwig’s Holy Blade with the full intention to punt you into the moon. As for Damian, I just have a particular soft spot for characters that are “right-hands” to a leader, left to mourn or act in their absence. The coolheaded assistant type has always been appealing to me, and I like that both of them have a very short presence in game but the fandom has widely made them bigger players!

Thanks again for the ask! It was a lot of fun to think about :) I love a lot of the BB characters honestly, narrowing down to top 5 made me *sweat* haha. If we had a top 6, Maria would be next!

[xgeronimowrks]

This work is part of my series "Morphomata", a collection that explores the morphing and juxtaposition of diverse ideas and styles into intricate and meditative thought-forms. Each composition blends hand-drawn sketches, asemic writing, and AI-generated shapes, reflecting my fascination with the interplay between human intuition and machine creativity. Every element, whether meticulously crafted or algorithmically conceived, contributes to a tapestry of interconnected concepts and meanings.

The "Morphomata" series blurs the boundaries between the abstract and the figurative, offering meditative imagery that invites viewers to explore multiple interpretations. The interconnected elements encourage a non-linear engagement with the work, allowing each viewer to uncover unique pathways and narratives within the piece.

Through this fusion of techniques, I aim to examine the tension between structure and unpredictability, control and spontaneity, ancient ideas and modern expressions. The interplay between systems thinking, design, and magic aligns with ancient and modern contemplations of order versus chaos and the interconnectedness of all things.

The resulting pieces are greater than the sum of their parts—reflections of interconnected systems and the fluidity of perception. They are both visual inquiries and contemplative spaces, encouraging a dialogue between the viewer and the work, where meaning evolves with every glance.

The uploaded image is a highly symbolic and abstract collage filled with overlapping themes, blending elements of ancient mysticism, philosophy, visual storytelling, and conceptual systems thinking. Below is an analysis of the visual and thematic aspects of the image:

1. Themes and Concepts:

   - Charisma and Spirituality: The word "CHARISMA" at the center, along with references to "The Eye of Ra" and the spiritual and physical planes, evokes ancient mystical and esoteric concepts, suggesting an exploration of influence, presence, and metaphysics.

   - Fragile, Robust, Anti-Fragile Systems: This tripartite model visually explains how systems evolve, contrasting fragility (Damocles), robustness (stability), and anti-fragility (adaptation and growth through stress, represented by the Hydra).

   - Intersection of Advertising and Magic: The Venn diagram linking advertising with magic may hint at the role of manipulation and enchantment in influencing perception and behavior.

   - Art and Design Origins: The graph connecting "Where Art comes from" and "Where Design comes from" suggests a cyclical process of inspiration and intentional creation, emphasizing transformative moments ("BOOM").

2. Symbolism:

   - Unicorn and Wheel: The unicorn atop a wheel signifies purity and imagination juxtaposed with cyclical movement and time.

   - Eye of Ra and Human Observation: References to the spiritual and physical planes imply the duality of perception—one mystical and the other empirical.

   - Animals (Rhino, Bee, Hydra): The hybrid rhino-fly and detailed bee connect nature's elegance with scientific curiosity. The Hydra represents resilience and adaptability, as mythological creatures often symbolize qualities transcending human limitations.

   - Past, Present, Future Dynamics: The looping figure-eight diagrams evoke the concept of eternal return or the cyclical nature of time and memory.

   - Text and Geometry: Mathematical notations, intersecting lines, and shapes serve as a visual language for abstract principles, blending scientific reasoning with artistic intuition.

3. Visual Style:

   - Doodle-Like Drawings: The hand-drawn, seemingly improvisational style creates a sense of playfulness, making complex ideas approachable while evoking the feeling of brainstorming or note-taking in real time.

   - Balance of Complexity and Minimalism: Despite its dense symbology, the use of monochrome ink ensures visual cohesion, and the varying levels of detail (e.g., the intricate bee versus abstract human forms) guide the viewer's attention.

   - Layered Narrative: The interconnected elements encourage exploration of the image in a non-linear fashion, inviting viewers to form their own interpretations.

4. Ancient Mysteries Connection:

   - Esoteric References: The Eye of Ra and references to observation on spiritual and physical planes connect to Egyptian mythology and metaphysical traditions that view sight as a source of creation and transformation.

   - Philosophical Undertones: The interplay between systems thinking, design, and magic aligns with ancient and modern contemplations of order versus chaos and the interconnectedness of all things.

[kohakhearts]

when people first meet me and inquire about my studies im generally hit with two different responses, being 1) “wow, that’s an unusual combination”/“you don’t see that often”/etc. and 2) “you must be SO smart!” (or its evil twin, “you must hate yourself ha-ha”), and while the first is obviously a better response than the second, both are kinda…awkward to react to.

like? IS it an unusual combination of interests, or is it actually that most institutions make it exceptionally difficult for people to pursue stem and arts concurrently? and that we don’t often talk about the heavy crossover between stem and the arts because we’re so culturally obsessed with this notion that the world is split into Art People and Science People (also known as English People and Math People)?

and how would my interest in a science make me any smarter than someone in my program who chose to pursue a minor in history instead of physics? also, NO, i don’t hate myself. obviously taking stem classes after spending years believing im “not a math person” has lowered my gpa, but that’s not really something i care about, because at the end of the day i find the subject endlessly fascinating and i enjoy my classes very much, and i get better at math every semester because i have no choice. because it’s just…a method of communication. it’s a language. you practice, you improve - but you have to be consistent and intentional about it. the same way you have to be consistent and intentional about analyzing fictional texts and historical documents.

which is to say that like. you are using the same skills. i tutored a high school student last year who looked at me like i was crazy for saying that close reading a short story is functionally the same as solving an algebra problem. you collect like terms. then you compare and contrast them to make a statement about them - it’s human nature to seek refuge in what is familiar even if it is simultaneously traumatic, or x = 2 and y = -2. you can chart it, you can graph it, you can draw it. listen, isn’t there something so inherently beautiful about the word integral? it’s something intrinsic, baked into a person or a thing - the fundamental values formed within you by tiny, infinitesimal pieces: moments, experiences - they coalesce into something completely different, but still. you can go back. you can find the pieces. define them, pick them apart, put them together again in new ways. expand them, contract them, equate them to something else just to understand them.

half the study of mathematics is called analysis, for god’s sake. what is the study of art if not analysis? is it not the goal of the artist, the writer, to make sense of our place in the world? and is this not what we do in physics, too? look at the world and try to find reason in it? as the poet spends their life trying to make the intangible tangible, the particle physicist attempts to study dark matter. when we form a sentence, we utilize a complex system of equations that are so second-nature to us we don’t even register that’s what we’re doing - but there’s a reason this branch of linguistics is called syntactic calculus.

like…believe me. if you told my teenage self i’d be taking calculus-based courses in university, i wouldn’t have believed it. i teach high school students now who tell me they know they aren’t good at english, but it doesn’t matter to them because they do so well in math. and i get it. i do. but it’s disappointing, too, because i think my knowledge of math has made me a better reader and writer. and it feels like most people are missing out on that connection, because they feel like it’s impossible to make. but any experimentalist can tell you there’s an art to the scientific process. any musician or poet can tell you that great art is dictated by numbers - rhythm, rhyme and metre, all of it. the only group of people as interested in conceptual symmetry as physicists are artists.

anyway, all i’m saying is like - one is not more essential than the other, these things are inextricably linked, these things are as fundamental to human existence as breathing. there’s a reason why astronomers defer to shakespeare to name newly discovered bodies in space, you know? we've all gotta learn to love the math in our art and the artistry behind math.