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fafnir19 · 5 months

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Hunter Prince

As the youngest prince, I am often belittled, ridiculed, and scorned. My elder brothers, Haas and Rego, are exemplary warriors, while I, Prince Almir, am but a mere shadow in their presence. The king, too, has often expressed his disappointment in me, though he does so subtly, through concerned glances and exasperated sighs. One fateful day, a group of entertainers graced the castle with their presence, and amid their act, they unfolded a tale of Princess Naja, bewitched by an evil sorceress and earmarked for marriage to the fearsome wizard, Zarik. Her plight ignited a fire within me—the chance to prove my worth, not just to my family, but to myself. Stealing away from the castle, I embarked on a journey to rescue the fair Princess Naja.

Many trials beset me, but eventually, I arrived at the sorceress's tower, where Naja was imprisoned high above, seemingly out of reach. I approached Naja, hoping for her wisdom and guidance. Much to my surprise, she revealed her secret knowledge of the sorceress's books. She disclosed the conditions for my success: "Capture the black unicorn and fashion boots from its untamable hide; Slay the black wolf and forge a cape from its impenetrable fur; Snare the black falcon and equip your garments with its swift feathers." With Naja's aid, and a stolen magical ring from the sorceress, I would then transform into these creatures. As a falcon, I would soar into the tower, transform into a wolf to subdue the sorceress, and flee with Naja upon the back of the unicorn.

The challenges before me seemed insurmountable, but with cunning and skill, I succeeded in each task. The garments were fashioned, the magical ring obtained.

As a falcon, I soared into the sky, riding the winds as they carried me closer to the lofty prison where Naja awaited her liberation. My heart pounded, and the adrenaline coursed through my veins as I approached the tower, ready to confront the sorceress and seize my chance to rescue the princess. "Naja, I'm here," I called out in a silent hum, the only sound that carried from my avian form. From the tower, her voice echoed back, laced with an urgency that spurred me onward. "Almir, be swift. Transform into the wolf when you arrive. We must act before the sorceress intervenes." My feathers ruffled with determination, and with a steely resolve, I executed the seamless transition into a formidable wolf. As I approached the tower, the door swung open with a gust of chilling wind, and I bounded forth to confront the sorceress. But as I advanced, ready to confront the wicked enchantress, the sight that greeted me struck with the force of a thunderbolt. It was not the sorceress who stood before me, but a figure much more imposing. It was the wizard Zarik, his eyes gleaming with power and malice. I snarled and attacked, but before I could even reach him, Zarik swiftly subdued me with a collar and muzzle.

Naja stepped forward with a sinister smile, holding the magical ring. "Oh, Almir," she said with false sweetness. "I knew you would be the perfect addition to our little family." Naja's laughter filled the tower, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You see, Almir, love can make one do many things. And my love for Zarik knows no bounds." She kissed Zarik and presented him with the magical ring. "This will be the perfect wedding gift for you, my dear." With a sinking feeling, I realized that the true love story was not between Princess Naja and I, but between her and the dark wizard Zarik. I desperately asked: "What is the meaning of this? Naja, I thought you were—" "Silence, Almir," Zarik commanded, his voice laced with an undercurrent of dark power that sent shivers down my spine. "You will come with us, and you will learn the consequences of meddling in matters beyond your understanding." As I stood there, rendered helpless and captive, the reality of the situation began to sink in. I had been tricked, betrayed, and now I was at the mercy of the very adversaries I had sought to thwart.

Just as despair threatened to consume me, Zarik's voice cut through the suffocating silence. "Almir, you are no longer who you once were. From now on, you shall be known as Hunter, my loyal companion." I blinked in confusion, my mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. "Hunter? What do you mean?" Zarik's eyes held a chilling glint as he explained, "You possess remarkable potential, Hunter, and I will decide which form you will take—whether it is the unicorn for its speed, the wolf for its prowess in hunting, the falcon for its keen sight, or the human form for its cunning and intelligence." A dreadful realization dawned on me as the truth sank in. I was now at Zarik's mercy, bound to his will and stripped of my former identity. As Hunter, I had become a mere tool in the hands of a powerful wizard and a deceitful princess. Defeated and captive, I could only wonder what fate awaited me at the hands of the sorceress and the powerful wizard.

The days melded into an existence I had never fathomed, where loyalty was my only currency. Zarik, my captor turned master, reveled in his newfound "wedding gift," parading me like a prized possession. I accompanied him everywhere, adopting the form he desired, whether human, unicorn, wolf, or falcon.

His training was relentless, intended not just to hone my hunting skills, but to break my spirit. "Good, Hunter," Zarik murmured, as I successfully tracked our prey through the dense forest. "I see great potential in you." Potential for what? I often pondered, but all that escaped my lips, in any form, were feigned grunts of acquiescence. One evening, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Zarik and I found ourselves in the great hall, partaking in a goblet of wine each. Naja appeared, cloaked in allure as always, her gaze flitting between us with a glimmer of malice. "Ah, Naja, my love," Zarik said, rising from his seat. "Have you come to admire our progress?" Naja's laugh echoed like silver bells, belying the darkness that swirled within her. "Indeed, Zarik. It's impressive how you've transformed Almir into such a useful companion." Useful? I snarled inwardly, my human form concealed by the boundary of silence I had resigned to. Zarik stepped closer to Naja, his eyes alight with fervor. "He has proven to be a valuable asset, indeed. His loyalty knows no bounds, just as yours." Naja's lips curled into a wry smirk, and I could almost taste the bitterness of my own plight. "Hunter, isn't it?" She addressed me as if I were naught but a hound. "Yes," Zarik affirmed with a glint in his eye, seeing his handiwork unfold. "His transformation is quite remarkable, wouldn't you agree?" I clenched my fists, hidden beneath the guise of human semblance, the wine in my goblet forgotten as their sinister exchange unfolded before me.

Naja approached, her ethereal beauty masking the venomous intent within. "Impressive, indeed," she purred, her fingers trailing along my arm as if I were no more than a weapon at their disposal. I recoiled internally, stifling the violent impulse to lash out. Trapped within my own facade, I could only endure their twisted charade. The moon ascended high into the night as the hour grew late. Zarik and Naja bid each other farewell, entwining in a passionate embrace, leaving me to my thoughts. However, their parting words, laced with veiled intentions, lingered in the air like a thick mist. As they departed, Naja spared me a glance, her gaze cutting through my facade with cruel clarity. "Be sure to join us on our special night, Hunter," she taunted. "After all, you are an essential part of our union." With that, the door closed behind them, leaving me to confront the turmoil churning within. I had become nothing more than a pawn in their treacherous design, a far cry from the prince I once was. The night crept on as I wrestled with the shackles that bound me, both physical and emotional. Eventually, the fateful hour arrived, cloaked in a darkness that mirrored the despair in my heart. I approached the grand chamber, the weight of my captivity bearing down upon me. The door creaked as I entered, my footsteps echoing through the chamber. Zarik and Naja reclined upon the grand bed, their eyes gleaming with a sinister glimmer. My presence, a silent reminder of their triumph, did nothing to dampen their unholy revelry. "Ah, Hunter," Zarik beckoned, his voice laced with a cruel edge. "Come, fulfill your duty as my loyal companion."

My stomach churned, repulsed by the spectacle before me, but even in my agony, I dared not defy their command. I assumed the form of the wolf and lay beside their bed, a silent sentinel on their unholy union. As the night waned, a haunting realization seeped into my very being—I had sacrificed not only my freedom, but also my dignity, on the altar of their dark desires. The weight of my sorrow threatened to consume me whole, and the hollow echoes of their laughter reverberated through the chamber, mocking my entrapment. In the depths of that chamber, I, the once proud Prince Almir, lay bound by chains unseen, ensnared in a web of cruelty spun by those I once sought to rescue. The night waned into dawn, casting an ethereal glow upon the shadows that enveloped me, and in that ephemeral light, a flicker of defiance kindled within me. Though my captivity had robbed me of many things, it could not extinguish the ember of resilience burning within. As the first light of dawn breached the horizon, I vowed to reclaim not just my freedom, but also the honor that had been callously stripped away. In the hushed embrace of that chamber, I plotted my emancipation from the clutches of their malevolent design, forging a resolve to defy their expectations and emerge from the darkness, a prince no longer in name alone, but in spirit and will.

#male tf #male transformation #wizzard #wolf tf #falcon tf #unicorn tf #prince #princess #fairy tales #forced transformation #hunter prince

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professorpski · 10 months

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“Soon the knitter herself will visualize a thousand of other ways in which a motif can be used, and so fave at her disposal an exhaustible variety of fabrics. Thick fabrics or thin fabrics, patterned fabrics or plain fabrics, those blazing in colour or decorated with beads, she can make fabric imitated fur (Looped Knitting), Lace, Picot, Filet, or Crochet, and even cloque and woven fabric, by a mere change of technique. Every ornament known to dressmaking can be imitated, even hemstitching and buttons!”

When Mary Thomas wrote this in 1945 in Mary Thomas’s Book of Knitting Patterns when dressmaking was the most common craft women learned. Circular knitting, which she called seamless knitting, was viewed as peasant knitting, interesting historically, but not something most women likely to do. So, comparing knitting to dressmaking was a compliment. In fact, sewing pieces of knitted fabric was taken for granted and Thomas offered the same garment block or garment schematic that we see in dressmaking in the section explaining how to plan an entirely original sweater.

Similarly, Thomas urged her the reader to imagine new ways of patterning a knitted fabric through her choice of stitches. Every section of the book suggests how variations might be introduced to the stitches she explains. She valued the experimentation and imagination which created the stitches she taught and clearly saw yet more to be invented.

You can find this and other Thomas books at Dover Publications: https://store.doverpublications.com/0486228185.html

#knittingbooks #knitting #knittinginstruction #marythomas #making #makers #dresshistory #costumehistory #fashionhistory #dressmaking #vintageknitting #vintagefashion #vintagedressmaking

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livielizardcos · 9 months

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taking some time today to discuss xiao! specifically the upgrades i made to him for metrocon 2023. i did so much experimenting with new techniques and materials, so i wanted to share that here to document, and maybe inspire some of my fellow artists/cosplayers!

i don’t think i could ever properly explain how happy i was after remaking xiao’s shirt. the previous version (which was purchased) fit really poorly, and the fabric was not great. it constantly pulled out from the waist of the pants and it practically blocked any airflow. the solution was simple: remake it from a bodysuit. that way the shirt not only stayed in place but also already gave me a much better form-fitting base to start out with. the mesh panel in the back was the part i worried about the most but ended up being the part i’m happiest with! i used power mesh that i hand dyed to be close to my skin tone (though the color isn’t very clear due to my binder’s color).

the swirling pattern on the bodysuit is a metallic white fabric paint. i made a digital drawing of the pattern on procreate, then printed it onto freezer paper. after cutting it out with an exacto knife, you can actually iron freezer paper onto fabric (shiny side facing the fabric) and it creates a nearly seamless stencil for fabric paint! i see myself using this technique a lot in the future, it’s literally perfect!!

the black leather piece at the neck and shoulders was my biggest obstacle. not only have i never worked with leather, but it is also a non-stretch material i’d be attaching to the collar/neck portion that very much needed to be able to stretch to be pulled on. thankfully the design worked out that i could have 2 closure points, one on the back of the neck and one at the front of the neck. the entire piece is hemmed by folding over and gluing the raw edge to the inside, then i glued hem tape over those raw edges to cover them and make them softer on the skin (the entire leather piece is unlined, due to its complex shape). all the visible edges of the leather were satin stitched to give them a clean, crisp edge. the gold appliqués on the front and back are 2mm eva foam covered in a gold stretch fabric, then glued onto the bodysuit with e6000!

the two white pieces that frame the mesh panel on the back gave me more difficulty than i expected. their shape is a bit deceiving, and needing them to lie flat on my back without sacrificing the stretch of the main garment meant i couldn’t just top stitch them onto the back. and while i’m not super happy with how they ended up aligning (where they meet at the top is much further down than i was aiming for), i still think it came out really nice!

and that’s the finished top!

here’s a front and back of the finished top! the sleeve is held up with clear bra straps that hook onto the inside of the shirt at the shoulder. all in all, i absolutely love how this newer shirt came out.

besides the shirt/bodysuit, the boots also got an upgrade! i snagged some boots on sale on amazon for $20, which was an insane steal! this style is very universal for so many costumes, and it also helps that the boots are comfortable and flat too! all of the accessories on the boots are affixed temporarily or from the inside (velcro, snaps, and elastic) so that the integrity of the outer boot remains untouched and i can reuse them for several costumes and even everyday wear. i also replaced the gold piece around the neck that holds the “scarf.” just like the pieces on the shirt, it is 2mm foam covered in gold fabric. this not only helps the gold elements feel more cohesive but also lies a lot more comfortably on my neck!

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merylstreepsworld · 4 months

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Gliding Through Love

Pairing: Loretta Durkin x Fem!reader

Word count: 1,283

Summary: Eager to embrace the Christmas magic, you and Loretta embark on an enchanting adventure.

During the festive season in New York City, the streets transform into a dazzling spectacle. Vibrant lights dance in intricate patterns, adorning the bustling streets and storefronts adorned with enchanting Christmas decorations. As you eagerly traverse the lively sidewalks, you clutch Loretta's hand, the excitement palpable in your hurried pace. With flushed cheeks against the brisk city air, you urge her forward, captivated by the radiant displays enveloping you.

Under the radiant, twinkling city lights of New York City at night, Loretta stands, a vision of wonder and affection. Her eyes, alight with a blend of amazement and love, reflect the luminous atmosphere surrounding you both. The soft glow highlights the interwoven strands of her silver and light brown hair, styled into two charming braids cascading over her shoulders, framing her face like ethereal adornments.

Wrapped snugly in a puffy, insulated coat, she exudes warmth against the frigid cold, the garment a shield against the winter's bite. A funky hat, its neutral tones harmonizing with the jacket, crowns her head, adding a touch of whimsy to her ensemble while keeping her head cozy.

Her hands, clad in gloves, perfectly fit within your own, forming a seamless connection even amidst the layers of warmth. As her gaze meets yours, the city's glittering backdrop seems to pale in comparison to the radiance emanating from her eyes, suffused with a mix of fascination for the surroundings and an unmistakable affection directed towards you. In this enchanting moment, the night's luminosity only serves to accentuate the captivating sight of Loretta, a portrait of beauty and love under the shimmering cityscape.

"Come on! Come on!" Your voice exudes enthusiasm as you guide her through the illuminated thoroughfares. Loretta, trailing behind, hastens to keep up, her soft laughter echoing in the wintry atmosphere.

Amidst this spectacle, your ultimate destination emerges – Rockefeller Center. Before you stands the colossal Christmas tree, towering majestically above, eliciting a sense of wonder. Your gaze ascends, mouth agape, as you share the moment with the older woman by your side, both bundled up against the cold in woolen coats and hats. "It's amazing," you breathe in a hushed tone, awestruck by the grandeur.

Loretta's giggles intermingle with your marvel, her affectionate gesture nudging your shoulder as she leans closer, arm intertwining with yours. "It is pretty amazing," she whispers, drawing nearer to you.

As your attention briefly shifts from the magnificent tree to Loretta, the gleam of the twinkling lights reflects in her eyes, rendering her absolutely resplendent. "Come on! Let's go ice skating!" With renewed excitement, you tug at her arm, her laughter trailing behind as she follows, reveling in your eagerness.

With skates secured and excitement brimming, you both make your way onto the glistening ice after securing and lacing up your skates, each lending a hand to the other. As you tentatively tread onto the rink, Loretta grasps your hand for support. Gripping the railing tightly, you're resolute, determined to maintain your balance.

Amidst the initial wobbles, Loretta extends her other hand for stability. "We got this," you assert optimistically, attempting to infuse encouragement into the skating venture. Tentatively, your legs set into motion – right, left, a cautious glide. Meanwhile, Loretta relies on your guidance, holding onto you as you navigate the ice together.

Playfully teasing, you quip to Loretta about her apparent lack of skating and your carrying the load. "Looks like someone's enjoying a free ride while I do all the skating," you jest, nudging her playfully

Loretta chuckles, her laughter ringing in the crisp air. her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Well, I've got the best view from here, don't I?" Her playful banter matches your own, her fingers tightening around yours for reassurance.

As the ice beneath your skates glimmers with reflected light, you take on the role of Loretta's impromptu skating instructor. With patience and care, you offer guidance, gently encouraging her to find her balance and rhythm on the ice.

Positioning yourself beside her, your arm becomes a steady support as you guide her through the initial strides. "Relax your stance, darling," you suggest, your voice calm and reassuring. "Feel the ice beneath your blades. You've got this."

With deliberate movements, you demonstrate the basic techniques, demonstrating how to shift weight from one foot to the other, gliding with controlled motions. As Loretta tentatively follows suit, you offer words of encouragement, adjusting your pace to match hers.

"Lean slightly forward, that's it," you advise, your hand lightly resting on her back for added stability. "Now, push off gently and let the ice carry you."

With each instruction, Loretta gains more confidence, her movements gradually becoming smoother. You stay close, offering continuous support and guidance, celebrating every small triumph together. Through your patience and encouragement, she begins to find her own rhythm, slowly but surely gaining the confidence to skate more independently.

In a seamless transition, both of you glide across the ice, hand in hand, effortlessly navigating the rink. Amidst the graceful movements, conversation flows freely between you, voices mingling with the soft sounds of skates gliding against the icy surface. Your gloved fingers intertwine, forming a warm and intimate connection despite the wintry surroundings.

After reveling in the joy of skating, the suggestion of indulging in some comforting hot cocoa meets swift agreement from Loretta. "Oh, some hot cocoa sounds amazing right now!" she exclaims, cheeks flushed with a rosy hue from both the exhilaration of skating and the frosty air. A gentle, chilled kiss lands on her equally cold cheek, eliciting a deeper blush in response.

Guided by Loretta, you both find yourselves at a beloved café. Nestled in its cozy ambiance, you eagerly order steaming mugs of hot cocoa to chase away the lingering chill from the skating excursion.

Seated together at a secluded corner table, you relish the warmth that seeps through the ceramic cups cradled between your palms. Gloves removed, you embrace the heat, savoring the comforting sensation as it gradually soothes your cold fingers. As the hot cocoa reaches the perfect sipping temperature, you close your eyes momentarily, a contented smile gracing your lips. "Mmm, perfect," you murmur, the warmth spreading through you with each delightful sip.

Following suit, Loretta takes a sip, mirroring your posture, her expression mirroring your satisfaction as the comforting heat spreads within her. Both of you share a moment of quiet contentment, wrapped in the comforting embrace of the hot cocoa and each other's company.

As the night deepens, enveloping the city in its serene embrace, you and Loretta draw closer, seeking warmth not just from the surroundings but from each other's presence. Snuggled closer, you find comfort in the simple pleasure of being together, the shared silence speaking volumes about the depth of your connection.

Wrapped in the quietude of the café, the ambiance around you fades into the background, leaving only the gentle hum of conversations and the occasional clink of cups. In these moments, words become secondary; the shared glance, the subtle touch, and the warmth radiating between you convey everything that needs to be said.

In this tranquil atmosphere, contentment thrives, not reliant on words but on the sheer delight of sharing this serene interlude with someone special. Each passing minute strengthens the bond between you, the unspoken understanding deepening with every shared moment.

Finally, as the night matures, the time comes to bid adieu to the enchanting Christmas wonderland of New York City. With a lingering hug and a promise of more adventures, you and Loretta venture back into the crisp night air, hearts warmed not just by the hot cocoa but by the enduring warmth of a cherished connection, illuminated by the magical glow of Christmas in the city.

#meryl streep #merylstreep #meryl streep x reader #loretta durkin x reader #loretta durkin #only murders in the building #christmas fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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epiolatrys · 7 months

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𓆩 ♱ 𓆪 ; the undying embers of voracity within a vortex, the pit of emptiness that devours.

—✸ dead dove : do not eat! includes mentions of suicide, metaphorical reference to cannibalism, religious imagery & symbolism. not beta read. art used by yamayurah.

a single moment is all it takes, a mere few seconds for lips to slot into each other—tongue tangling with one another as it births a hunger ; voracity consuming, burning like a flame that trails onyx within its path of disarray. and for a few lasting minutes did gogol's head go hazy, perhaps it were from the lack of air within his lungs that sprouted this gin—and—tonic state : ecstacy.

for a brief passing of time, he had a taste of the freedom he so desperately craved. the necessity of oxygen that constricts the basis of humanity—it was a cage he had managed to crawl out of with a newfound bliss.

and it was addicting.

satin—donned fingers lace through tresses of inky black, desperation creeping upon ivory skin as his movements become erratic, distressed—almost animalistic in its wake. and fuck, the touch of another rekindled a newfound fire within the jester's core ; an unrelenting tear of sweat breaking from the side of his temple, to the arch of his cheekbone, down to the curve of his chin.

and with time—heat hugs skin, gogol's thick and long digits fumbling with the constriction of his clothes ; loosening the collar of his eccentric attire—loosening himself of fabric and adornments.

breathless, he whispered through the time frames wherein he parted, " I'd kill for you— " he gasped sharply, panting as he tore off his upper garments—taking a dagger from his pocket with his sharp eyes burning into an ember, clasping dostoevsky's hand into his whilst the other remains onto the tousled locks of ink.

a muddled, clumsy stitching of words growled from deep within his chest—ukrainian, the ravenette discerned ; with a penchant for linguistics, making out a few groans built of curses.

the blade on dostoevsky's palm : it had golden initials engraved along its body, figures of nikolai's mother tongue emphasizing an ownership. the bulkier build had grasped his fragile wrist, roughly edging the blade close to the jester's own neck, offering the sight of his jugular vein—reverence.

" mind, body, soul—it is all for you to take and to end. govern over my person, and let me sacrifice my name to you, fedya. "

his voice grows with a sincerity, melding within the space where their breathes entangled—letting dainty, ivory fingers push him into a wall. pallid lips twist into a cheshire grin, the force of his digits unbecoming of such a faint person.

" you wouldn't. " a smile portrayed of his assurance—to the words spouted in a probing.

a smirk grows to his lips, " oh, how you wound my heart, dearest friend—! do you think me to be some heartless cretin without the capability to revere—? alas ! you wound me so . . . " with a faux jesting of tears, and as mirth sparkled beneath dual optics—the clown wipes a lonesome drop of imaginary sorrow. twinkling with a sort of merriment playing across his gaze. though, the breathless quality of his voice seemed to seep through despite the acquisition of seamless transposition in emotion.

" cease the theatrics, jester—for when the moment comes that I personally tear your veins apart, that overcoat ability you possess will simply redirect the tip of the weapon to the side of my own neck. isn't that right ? " a hostility carved his features, punctuating the threat as his gaze turns inimical.

" my, such bite, and to your own friend ! though, I must admit ; my surprise to such a careless answer, from you of all people—it almost made me drive a knife to your throat. " dostoevsky smiles at this, fingers moving from the clown to his lips, as if in a state of ponderment. eyes squinting with a certain kind of glee.

" I wouldn't put that past you, guileful entertainer. although, you expect too much from dear, old me. my friend, do not expect with towering scales, for the disappointment that afflicts you when failure comes—is devastating. " gogol grins, pronouncing his playful nature as a finger idly plays with a twirl of dostoevsky's hair—his lips pressing a chaste kiss on to the locks of dead starlight. whilst his head lowers into a bow, his eyes remain locked onto the other's violet vitality.

the dual sheen along gogol's eyes could, admittedly, carve a hole into one's skull, from the simple burning of his gaze.

" oh ? I hadn't anticipated for you to spoil me so, dos—kun ! I will keep your words in my mind—quite a rarity for such compassionate phrases from you—of all people—grace me ; truly, this must be marked as a day of importance ! " the latter keens with an ardent sparkle, dostoevsky only keeping the split of his lips whilst a deep chuckle reverbrated from his throat, mind wandering as the air becomes thick.

" nikolai. "

the addressed halts, ears perking at the velvet that rolls his name, standing as he towers over the other with his height—a faint blossom of pomegranate flushing his cheeks. in typical dostoevsky fashion, he merely lets the pad of his finger trace the side of gogol's jaw, trekking from the arch of chin, to the winsome painting of rose apple staining his lips.

his finger pauses—thumb replacing the pointer, roughly thrusting the thicker digit into gogol's mouth.

the surprise on gogol's face falters a mere fraction of a second, letting the other do as he pleased—yielding as a testament to the webbing of oaths he had sworn ; and with a glint of mischief, dostoevsky leans forward—the air between them mingling, as would the entitlement of smoke to touch with a veneer of fickleness, a complexity that roamed only with a single notion ; whilst the mellow proclamations of an enchanting perfume whispers bewitchment against the spewing of fumes. a type of poetry that arranges an ensemble that hangs fluidly along the draft, settling upon the planes of prosaic literature—like a butterfly kissing a corpse, a saint touching a sinner.

" go on then, show me how you worship. "

it was unabashed, the profoundness of liquored titillation that shrouded the choice of his words—it almost made the jester's knees buckle, the sheer power that emanated from the protruding intrusion of the devil's enticement into his ear, irking a desire to glorify.

a jagged lust euphemized as an affection—trickery a pulchritudinous amendment of the inkings named blasphemous tenderness ; a gathering of destitute souls in which humanity is an absence that gouges itself out, reaping the meager spillage of a vitality named love.

ironically, they are unable to love.

and that is what kept them together.

' cry out, ' a cacophony would goad, an effigy of providence falsifying something as pure as love.

and the realization dawned upon the damned.

he was wrong.

oh, so wrong.

and that is when his lips thinned with thought : love isn't pure, sweetened—it is destruction incarnate ; maims it does and brutality it vows—evil.

love was the name of careful hands that caress your neck with the gentleness of an angel's feather, coaxing a warmth within your body—only to strangle you with a ferocity, stop your breath, devour your heart—cannibalizing ruination.

because that's what love is, isn't it ? an enigma that once roamed with clemency and a benign heart, a victim to fate's cruelty as it becomes a mere shadow of devastation. feeding off of souls corrupted with the curse named such a disgustingly cloying name.

revenge—that's what it was.

love was the act of vengeance for envy—green hubris. another palliation for the vice of forsaking.

a smile graces gogol's face as he obeyed with a brief pause.

they were meant for each other.

the clown, with prying eyes, kisses at the finger with a delicacy. skin pressed tightly against the plumpness of his lips, mimicking a beast tearing its prey apart. yet, this was with a calculated carefulness.

there was something about the fragile scene that displayed a brutality unlike the meticulousness it posed as. be it how ivory snarls beneath dostoevsky's gaze—or how the hellsaint's violace eyes seemed to glint with malevolence. it felt like a forsaken eternity.

the way reddened flesh of lips glide along the tips of his thumb, alternating between each digit of his hand until the jester reaches his thin, almost dainty looking wrist ; features twisted with a warmth that held no tenderness, nor familiarity to the normalcy of humans. yet, held an intimacy that was truthfully, and utterly theirs.

the man hailed as the devil, with a face of indifference, leans to whisper into the clown's ear. and he whispers sweetly.

" I wonder so, how long will you last keeping this charade up, nikolai? "

with a cynical shade along his words, gogol only keens as if a realization had come to his eccentric little head ; the russian only cementing this fact.

he had realized that what they had was too great to be reduced to the mere dullness of love and humanity's obsession with emotion. what they had held no name, but a type of obscure affection only they possessed.

@deadromanticism : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.

#fyodor x nikolai #fyolai #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x gogol #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol bsd #nikolai gogol bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dostoygogol #dostogogol #bsd gogol #bsd dostoevsky

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azspot · 1 month

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We live with this need always, Friends, to weave our lives into a seamless garment, when what we say and believe and do are one and the same no matter what, to integrate our lives, so what we love is what we do, so what we believe becomes our first impulse and not our eventual one. Not just living near the truth, within viewing distance of it, but living in it and being of it.

Philip Gulley

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abudhabilaundryservices · 5 months

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Perfectly Pressed: Abu Dhabi Laundry's Premier Ironing Service Unveiled

Embrace the epitome of refined garment care in Abu Dhabi, where every fold and crease speak volumes about your professionalism and style. Introducing Ironing Service in Abu Dhabi, the definitive destination for an unparalleled ironing service that redefines the essence of meticulous garment care. Step into a sanctuary committed to enhancing your attire to unmatched perfection. we comprehend the profound impact of impeccably maintained clothing. Our mission extends beyond mere handling of garments; it's about crafting elegance that resonates with your unique style, executed with finesse and precision.

Embark on a transformative journey to restore the pristine allure of your cherished garments. Our seasoned experts possess both expertise and advanced technology to eliminate the most stubborn stains. Whether it's a treasured silk blouse or a bespoke suit, our artisans apply their skills to revitalize fabrics, leaving your clothing spotless and rejuvenated.

Beyond conventional cleaning, we delicately dry each garment, acknowledging the diverse needs of various fabrics. Our approach embodies tenderness, preserving the original shape and grace of your clothing. Expect flawlessly ironed garments exuding elegance, fitting you impeccably while maintaining their pristine condition.

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#AbuDhabiLaundry #IroningServices #GarmentCare #LaundryExperts #LaundryTimeSaver #CleanAndFresh #ClothingMaintenance

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twiggy-in-pink · 3 months

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When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they divided his clothes among the four of them. They also took his robe, but it was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom. So they said, “Rather than tearing it apart, let’s throw dice for it.” This fulfilled the Scripture that says, “They divided my garments among themselves and threw dice for my clothing.” So that is what they did.

John 19:23-24

#faith in god #christianity #faith in jesus #bible verse #bibleverse #bible scripture #word of god #scripture #bible quote #christian #new testament #gospel

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fashionlouist · 2 years

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Louis is wearing a Lacoste Men's SPORT Seamless Open Collar Jacquard Polo Shirt on stage in Montevideo, Uruguay.

This garment has a vintage-inspired striped collar and a two-tone silicone crocodile that give it characteristic signature touches.

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson fashion #louis fashion #fashionlouist #ltwt 2022: uruguay #lacoste #ltf22 #ltwtf #2022.05.24 #may 2022 #tops #polo shirts #all #montevideo uruguay

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madamlaydebug · 1 month

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Alchemy is both a physical and spiritual science, according to the Philosophers, the physical is a "shadow" of the spiritual. Physical Alchemy is considered to be a true science and a paragon which leads to the true Light of Nature. Here Mr.Kuhn sheds some light on the spiritual allegory as it relates to ancient Scriptures.....his work is highly recommended for a return to the understanding of the cryptic meaning of Ancient myths and texts:

"Armed with this unquenchable fire which is intellect, we are sent on earth to inhabit a body which is described as a watery and miry swamp. The body is nearly eighty percent water! It is the duty of the fiery spark to enlighten the whole dark realm of mortal life, to transmute by its alchemical power the baser dross of animal propensity into the finer motivation of love and brotherhood. This life is a purgation--Purgatory--because it is a process of burning and tempering crude animal elements into the pure gold of spiritual light. In Egyptian scriptures the twelve sons of Ra (the twelve sons of Jacob, and the twelve tribes of Israel) were called the 'twelve saviors of the treasure of light.' An Egyptian text reads: 'This is the sun within us, the seminal source of light. Do not dim its luster or cause it to suffer eclipse.' And another runs: 'Give ye glory as to the sun; he is the chief, the only one coming from the body, the head of those who belong to the race of the sun.'

With this force of fire we must uplift the lower man and transmute his nature into the spiritual glow of love and intelligence. With it we must turn the water of the lower nature into the wine of spiritual force. Around it we must aggregate the refined material which we shall build into that temple of the soul, that body of the resurrection, the great garment of solar light, in which we shall rise out of the tomb of the physical corpus and ascend with the angels. This is the radiant Augoeides of the Greeks, the Sahu of the Egyptians, in which the soul wings its flight aloft like the phoenix, after rending the veil of the temple of the body. It is our garment of immortality, the seamless robe of glory, in prospect of which we groan and travail, says St. Paul, as we earnestly desire to be clothed upon with the garment of incorruption. As flesh and blood can not inherit the kingdom of heaven, we must fashion for our tenancy there this body of solar glory, in whose self-generated light we may live eternally, having overcome the realms of darkness, or spiritualized the body. Jesus prays the Father to grant unto him that glory that he had with him before the world was, and his prayer is fulfilled in the formation of the spirit body out of the elements of the sun."

-Alvin Boyd Kuhn

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chic-a-gigot · 1 year

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La Mode nationale, no. 6, 8 février 1896, Paris. Notre patron découpé (Grandeur naturelle) est accompagné de notre Patron Perforé donnant les applications grandeur naturelle. Manteau haute nouveauté. No. 2. — Modèle du patron perforé gratuit. Applications du collet dont nous donnons le patron découpé dans ce Numéro. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Détail et explication du patron découpé:

Notre patron découpé se compose de cinq morceaux:

No. 1. — Collet qui se taille à drap ouvert, c'est-à-dire non plié; le droit fil placé exactement au milieu du dos, sans couture.

No. 2. — Empiècement, également droit fil dans le dos. Un cran indique le raccord au devant.

No. 3. — Col très évasé. Un cran indique le devant et marque le raccord à l'empiècement.

No. 4. — Coquillé du devant, coupé sans couture au milieu. Ce coquillé s'attache sur le côté à l'aide de deux petites agrafes. Des crans à la partie supérieure indiquent chacun des plis qui descendent en cascade, dissimulant l'ouverture du vêtement. Un cran placé sur le devant du coquillé marque le raccord au devant du collet.

No. 5. — Coquillé du dos, coupé droit fil, d'un seul morceau. Un cran indique le raccord au dos du collet.

Métrage: 2m,50 tissu grande largeur, 5 mètres satin ou surah pour la doublure.

Ce collet est en drap, ou bien se fait en velours; il est alors plus habillé.

Les motifs d'appliques sont dessinés un peu agrandis afin que nos lectrices se rendent un compte plus exact de leur aspect; en réalité ils se répetent autour du collet, bout à bout, autant de fois que l'exige la symétrie; il en est de même des motifs plus petits qui ornent le col et brodent tout l'empiècement.

Il est quelques observations importantes. Ainsi la partie délicate du travail est l'établissement du col Médicis, si gracieux lorsqu'il tombe sans raideur, sans paraître "cassé". Pour obtenir cette élégance qui fait son charme, il faut interposer entre le drap qui forme le dessus du col et le drap qui le double soit une mousseline raid ou bougran, soit du crin véritable très souple, qui lui permet de se rabattre à volonté.

Il est bon aussi de faire descendre légèrement le col sur le devant afin qu'il tombe avec grâce et sans effort; ce mouvement doit être à peine sensible, un demi-centimètre tout au plus sur l'encolure.

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Our die-cut pattern consists of five pieces:

No. 1. — Collar which is cut with an open sheet, that is to say, not folded; the straight grain placed exactly in the middle of the back, without seam.

No. 2. — Yoke, also straight grain in the back. A notch indicates the fitting at the front.

No. 3. — Very flared neck. A notch indicates the front and marks the connection to the yoke.

No. 4. — Shelled from the front, seamless cut in the middle. This shell attaches to the side with two small clips. Notches at the top indicate each of the pleats that cascade down, concealing the opening of the garment. A notch placed on the front of the shell marks the connection to the front of the collar.

No. 5. — Shelled back, cut straight, in one piece. A notch indicates the connection on the back of the collar.

This collar is made of cloth, or is made of velvet which makes it more dressy.

The applique motifs are drawn a little enlarged so that our readers can get a more exact account of their appearance; in reality they repeat themselves around the collar, end to end, as many times as the symmetry requires; the same applies to the smaller motifs that adorn the collar and embroider the entire yoke.

There are a few important observations. Thus the delicate part of the work is the establishment of the Medici collar, so graceful when it falls without stiffness, without appearing "broken". To obtain this elegance which gives it its charm, it is necessary to interpose between the sheet which forms the top of the collar and the sheet which doubles it either a stiff or buckram muslin, or very soft real horsehair, which allows it to be folded down at will.

It is also good to lower the collar slightly in the front so that it falls gracefully and effortlessly; this movement should be barely noticeable, half a centimeter at most on the neckline.

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mcbitchtits · 10 months

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okay my weekend got shuffled around and i saw dial of destiny today rather than friday.

completely unspoilery point of doubly-pedantic nerd criticism: hey marching navy bugler in the back ARE YOU AWARE that you are out of step. okay thanks for your time.

now spoilers

this has been bothering me for a hot sec

is it a German thing the way they pronounce it? A British thing? is it a Roman-Latin vs Catholic-Latin situation? I mean, Wikipedia here has it the way I’ve always said it, so what is behind their choice to Not Pronounce It This Way in the movie?

also related to the pre-adventure plot, i was sitting there in the middle of it thinking, like, when the nazis were in disarray and lacking supplies and their empire was falling apart, would anyone have even noticed a jacket with a bullet-hole in it? (i realize this is just a plot moment, ignore that for a second.) and then like ten minutes later i realized i was probably just thinking about the Confederates rather than the Nazis, but ehhhhhhhhhhh tomayto tomahto

also i think it’s very funny that the plot is just like “where did voller get the anitkyhera? who fucking cares. PLOT TIME”

also-also: i know it’s for Plot Reasons but i really wish they said “antikythera mechanism” more than they said “archimedes’ dial”. bah. fie on you

i’m still, every time, in awe of the wacko billing. who’s in this movie? HARRISON FORD and PHOEBE WALLER-BRIDGE and ANTONIO BANDERAS and TWELVE OTHER NAMES and also mads mikkelsen. i’m sorry. your villain gets last billing? i know why, it’s hollywood nonsense, but like. COME ON. maybe he deserves a few more minutes of screentime also?

i think i posted this in one of my last few shotgun-blast-commentary posts, about all the marion pics being from 1936. i noticed today, waaaaaay in the blurry background, at the end of the movie, there’s one from Crystal Skull. (and I had to go look it up and I realized it was not an Indy & Marion photo as I thought but rather one of the stills of Mutt and Marion. which. PUT THAT UP FRONT AT THE BEGINNING!!!!)

okay. do you see my four exclamation points there? so the subtitles, and forgive me that these are in spanish, but

they do that twice. my freshman high school english teacher is out there somewhere having a conniption fit

i think it’s interesting how much time the score spends with helena’s theme. there are at least a few spots where we should have been hearing the raiders march, and instead we get her theme. and it’s not like mutt’s theme where they harmonize and interplay. i don’t think we ever get it. which is... such a fascinating and, IMO, weird choice.

one of my friends who i saw it with, and i may have already mentioned this also, came out of the movie and was like “not to be an asshole, but it doesn’t make sense that the boat had 100 centurions. the centurions were the military leaders. they would definitionally have one centurion” and i’m just like. this is why we’re friends, and also, i’m so glad you are also a pedantic historian about indiana jones movies because that is Exactly How It Should Be.

speaking of which, every single time we get to Greece i’m just like I AM PRETTY SURE THEY DIDN’T SEW GARMENTS THAT WAY? YES THIS IS A PRODUCTION DESIGN CHOICE BUT ALSO IT IS BOTHERING ME. are there any extant garments like that? i feel like everything i have ever read is chitons and himations and peplos and. you know. mostly big, seamless, rectangles?

in related notes and deep dives into the world of production design vs. historic elements, the graphikos feels like it’s supposed to be like the phaistos disk? perhaps. i like it better than the “dial” design, for whatever that’s worth

and also re: my previous criticisms on the script being poor, “it’s not in a language, it’s in a code.” OH I’M SORRY. I FORGOT THAT CODE RESULTED IN NON-LINGUISTIC OUTPUT this is nonsense and i might hate this line more than any other for sheer stupidity? this being polybius i assume you’d still have to, you know. know how to read ancient greek.

now we’re off to the next part of our journey, If The Script Is Like This Then Surely I’m Overthinking It:

This is about Kythira, as in, the island opposite Antikythira, but also, in light of choosing to Do The Last Crusade Thing Again And Then Failing To Give The Indy-Helena Relationship A Solid Landing i am SO MAD i gotta go scream into a pillow or something brb

On the other hand, in regards to Overthinking The Writing And I Think They Did Mean It On Purpose: Basil naming his daughter Helena. I’m assuming he was obsessed with the Antikythera before all of that, although we never see any indication other than perhaps it catching his ear when he’s tied up on the train. But. Anyway. Helena. now i have to go Lie Down About It

(side note: do we think Indy is the only one who calls her “Wombat”? she does say, in the bar, “it’s been a long time since i’ve heard that”. were, like, he and Basil hanging out being archaeologist buddies and Helena thought he was super cool and wanted to be like him and found out he was named after his dog? like. aside from the “we are just writing in a new, younger Indy character”, that’s kind of just such a sweet little moment to ponder.)

fascinatingly, in every single showing i’ve been to so far, Helena gets the biggest laughs (or all of them). mostly the “I’m a... fan” moment, and then today she got a rip roaring response from knocking indy out. which i appreciate. but also it is interesting to note indy doesn’t really seem to get the laughs in his own goddamn farewell flick.

OKAY ENDING ON A POSITIVE NOTE i noticed something today which i had not caught yet which is, at the end, when marion shows up and indy goes into the kitchen to talk to her— when she opens the fridge to put the food in there, he slyly slips the magnet off of her photo that he put on there at the beginning. that is an indy moment. that made me laugh. sweet and silly.

#dial of destiny #indiana jones

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