look for the name: SUSAN
@kittencuddleclub
alexander mcqueen by sarah burton cable-knit ivory cashmere and cotton "sailor" dress w/ navy nautical bands and embroidered "mcq" anchors to the neck ties
concept korea black leather mary janes
vivienne westwood "venus" grey wool beret, c. 198o's
maybelline "lash-brow-ine" mascara, c. 1915
belle époque-era mourning ring w/ an antique photo portrait of a young girl fitted perfectly inside; set in rose gold and bordered with 24 jet stones
110 notes
·
View notes
I looked at the post again where the VoxTek employee rants about Vox's weird obsession and someone in the notes said Vivziepop needs to give us this guy's name from Episode 2 and I had this horrible idea
Charlie: "Aw, I think it's so nice that you want to join the hotel when you could go anywhere you please now that you're free! We're so happy to have you! What's your name?"
The VoxTek employee, shaking slightly: "...Alastor."
Alastor's already squinting at this point and Charlie is like mmmh what a coincidence! We actually have an Alastor here!
And the VoxTek employee stutters "B-but you can name me something else if you want to! T-this is j-just a name that Vox called me"
The sound of glass shattering can be heard as Alastor crushes the drink in his hand with this look of absolute horror on his face.
(referring to this post)
anon this is horrible thank you for this.
608 notes
·
View notes
is a Riteru read of ABoT the intended one?
It can be if you want it to be buddy. Go enjoy the world!
More genuine answer: I'm an aro-ace writer with a long long streak of gen-fic. Shipping doesn't interest me. I don't hate it; it just doesn't click for me at all. I joke that the only way romance ends up in the story is if it's a plot-necessity (Tetsuo and Jun are there because 'married man suspected of having an affair' is what pulls Reigen into the entire Mogami-possession plot. The Kageyama parents are married because they're, well, the parents. Teru and Mei's relationship is a joke until it's plot-relevant.)
So to me, I'm not writing Ritsu and Teru's relationship as a ship. But also? This is all pretend. It's all transformative. This is for fun. I absolutely know that if I were a ship-writer, Riteru would be the obvious choice. I know they're one angry-kiss away from being someone's enemies to lovers fic. So if you look at Ritsu and Teru in ABoT and say "they're holding hands, to me", go right ahead, go hog-wild, come play Barbies with me.
78 notes
·
View notes
Concepts for old gods.
I need more of them, im pretty sure but. Currently stuck at the brainstorming stage
321 notes
·
View notes
not to bring up mass effect but that’s one of the most interesting things it ever posited when it came to the idea of organic vs artificial intelligence. a machine, if sentient, knows who created it and why it was created. and a person will never know that. like, even lacking spirituality, even if you ascribe all this to random cause-and-effect, that doesn’t actually get you any closer to understanding why there is a you. but a robot can look their creator in the eye, can read out the whole of its purpose, and know that no matter what it modifies, this is what it was made to be. and what if it was made limited, or flawed, or shackled. there are elements of that a person can relate to, maybe understand, but not all of it, not enough to fathom how different the experience of the world is when you have no questions about your origins.
24 notes
·
View notes
my whole life i felt like i was too old for my time.
at ten my town burned into ashes and i stood in front of it in my wool coat and holding a shard of my dead grandmother's ceramic christmas tree.
when i was eleven i wrote a three-part collection of trauma poems and watercolor portraits, but the portraits were never of me, but of the people i saw in the shadows that no one else could see.
twelve years old and i moved into an empty house. small. crowded. i met a girl. she was really beautiful in my eyes. but she was fifteen going on sixteen, too old for me. i did not know how i felt except good. i felt so safe with her. and i had an inkling she felt the same.
when i was thirteen the same girl broke my heart. i thought i had felt love for her, looking back now it was just the idea, the reverie of love. but part of it was real. she would hold me close when the curtain fell, and i painted her on the largest canvas in my possession. i wrote her my longest work yet, of adoration, of admiration. she showed me music that threw my world up in flames and threw it back down to burn my lips to black. but she told me she couldn't do it. she couldn't make this work because she didn't care about me all that much. and it was an event i should have seen coming. but i was thirteen. i was naive. i was not suited to be in a loving relationship with a sixteen year-old. and that was the only truth i couldn't see.
fourteen and i watched call me by your name for the first time. listened to sufjan stevens all day long, and phoebe bridgers at night. sad lesbian music. heartbreak hangover. i wanted to keep talking to the girl i loved but it was so hard to keep a safe distance while doing so. and so, that spring before she turned seventeen, i wrote her two letters one month apart. and instead of going back to our used-to-be-normal, she told me to fuck off and never speak to her again. her name was evie.
when i turned fifteen, i was a little happier. i wanted that elio and oliver type of love. not, the elio at the end of the film type. on the phone, crying, whispering her name over and over and over again. i met someone else just as my first "love" and i began to be on better terms again. but this new girl was straight as a board, and she was one of my best friends. and i don't know how it ended with her, though i really loved her, a true love, not just an idea. because when we graduated, i missed my opportunity to tell her how i really felt for her. but then there was a monday night in october when evie called me "babe." and i didn't know how to respond. because she was the one who cut things off with me, so i just smiled and resisted the urge to scream or cry or both all at the same time. it wasn't the place. it wasn't the right time either. and i didn't love her anymore, if i ever did at all. it really felt ... over.
and as father sufjan said once, blessed be the mystery of love.
35 notes
·
View notes
look for the name: LOUISE
elinore mac handmade heart-shaped tie top in champagne
léron inc. black high-waist silk and lace knickers, c.193o’s
frolov black lace gloves
tiffany & co. sterling silver comb w/ pink tassel
balenciaga lingerie knife over-the-knee boots in beige
276 notes
·
View notes