#... with bold shapes and screens everywhere are a bit too much for my eyes

[thedawner]

I have this odd fear that, should Too Human ever be re-made, they will change/adapt Midgard and Asgard to the current standards of what cyberpunk aesthetics are aka put giant neon eye strain billboards everywhere.

There was some sort of concept art that sort of veered into that direction at the time though it's a more pleasant kind of neon graphics:

This was an early idea of the Aesir airport, which got cut out from the game or modified to be smaller.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 8

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 

(a/n: i promise i have other writings in the work outside this fic kdsfjlajdf i maybe have part 2 of ‘Around Your Neck’ coming up............)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You spent the rest of your night trying to redial Bucky’s number. Every single time you just got his voicemail, eventually filling it to the max with pleas for him to call you back. You apologized countless times through texts, begging him to not feel bad and to let you two sit down and discuss it.

But he had really gone radio silence. 

The only real beacon of hope for you was that you could still feel him. You still felt that attachment, the connection of soulmates. He hadn’t totally pushed you out, at least. That was all you could see as far as positives. 

As you went to bed that night, the darkness of the situation was still encompassing you. Even the world seemed to be upset with it as the second you laid your head down, it began storming. 

You fell asleep to sounds of rain hitting the windows and thunder booming across the city. The nightmares engulfed you once more with no signs of your Bucky making appearances this time. Instead, the feelings of dread ran through your body. Bone, skin, blood, and all. It was like an old friend coming to visit. 

The images were nearly the same as well as the asset was back using his knives and terrorizing unsuspecting victims. You couldn’t fight but why would you? You felt lost and defeated as you were engrossed in the metaphorical trenches of the life and missions of the Winter Soldier.

***

You had only been asleep for a few hours when your phone started ringing. Slightly thankful the sound pulled you awake before you had to see another man slaughtered, you jumped up from your bed, diving for the phone. 

The screen shone brightly in the dark of night. It was him. You nearly cried out as you hit ‘accept.’

“Bucky?”

“Can you let me in?” His voice was slowly getting drowned out by the rain. You frowned, confused.

Heading to your front door, you popped your head out, looking down the stairs at the building’s entrance. Bucky was staring at the ground outside. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to let me in.” He finally looked up, meeting your eyes through the glassdoor. It was not exactly a pretty sight. He looked tormented standing there damp from the rain. You couldn’t speak, just nodded and hung up. Without much care for your current state, draped in an oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts, you ran down the stairs. 

Once you unlocked the door, Bucky entered the lobby without so much of a glance at you. Wordlessly, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment, letting Bucky follow.

You introduced him to your apartment, showing him the couch where he could take a seat. This certainly was not how you expected his first time in your home would be but you didn’t have much time to mourn it. 

You opted to stay standing, watching as Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn't look at you yet but you could feel the anger radiating from him. You didn’t know what to do now.

“D-Do y-you want any water or something?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I’m sorry I hung up on you.”

Sighing, you said, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know, I know,” He insisted, sounding so defeated. He leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. “It’s just… After yesterday morning, I thought I understood what you…you had seen but I didn’t want to accept it, okay? I didn’t want to think it was true. I wanted to believe that my fucking soulmate was learning the better things about me. Actual things about me, not...not that goddamn monster they created.”

A familiar ache came over you hearing his words. This must’ve been really a lot for him if he finally said the word. You didn’t even have time to celebrate it.

You couldn’t help yourself as you crossed the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch like something was actually pulling you to him. He was still staring at the ceiling while you turned towards him, fingers uncontrollably fiddling in nervousness. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you admitted. “At first they were everything in my life, inescapable. The nightmares-,”

Bucky cut you off with a scoff. “Nightmares.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, I know that’s unfair to you for me to describe them like that but they weren’t exactly pleasant,” you said. “The nightmares were everywhere and...and the feelings, the images… Even just tonight they-,”

His head whipped towards you. “You still have them?”

“Bucky, you need to let me speak.” He nodded and you tried to collect yourself before continuing, “Everything, from the emotions to the images of those terrifying things, hit me hard, and while, yes, it’s scary and it’s been scary for a very, very long time… I don’t think it should completely matter. I can’t change them - you certainly can’t change them - and they definitely do not represent the man sitting next to me in any way, shape, or form.”

Bucky's hard expression got softer at your reassurance. You had told him this yesterday morning but you felt now you were actually getting somewhere. You were getting your thoughts out there and maybe, just maybe, he’d accept them as facts.

His tone was rough but his words were soft as he began to speak again. “I told you that while you’re with me you won’t ever be hurt or have to worry.” You nodded, remembering the promise in passing. “So it kills me that I can’t fix this. I-I didn’t know about all that, really, and it’s hard realizing you’ve had to deal with consequences from my actions. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve anything like this.”

You tried to muster up a small smile, trying to assure Bucky you were okay. He didn’t look convinced, though. 

“It’s not ideal, no,” you shrugged, “but it’s leading me to you, so, maybe there’s something in it. I think Fate knows what it’s doing, at least most of the time.”

A little smile just barely formed on Bucky’s lips. It wasn’t much but at least he didn’t look like he was ready to punch a wall in your already run-down apartment. 

“Besides, it’s not all bad,” you continued, wanting to at least bring something positive to this conservation. Bucky raised his brows, curiously. “I did have a nice dream that night after dinner. I saw you reading.”

He looked almost relieved. “I guess all we can do is hope those continue.” A beat. “I’m amazed you even allowed me in your apartment.” 

Your jaw went slack, unsure of where this statement was coming from. “Well of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Bucky turned away and that rough look of his came back. Your attempts to lighten everything were taking a nosedive apparently, but you couldn’t ask him to avoid or suppress his feelings. You guessed it was better to get these things out in the open.

Bucky eventually asked, “How can you just be okay with everything?” 

This time, you looked away, turning to look out the window opposite of you two. The rain was still coming down steadily. “You haven’t really given me a reason to not be okay with everything.”

Your words were bold, the conversation was bold, and to keep with the theme, you boldly grabbed his hand to hold. You ran your thumb over the back of it in circular motions, trying to calm him. He didn’t pull away, thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I-I get nervous about all this.”

You chuckled softly, “Me too.”

Bucky hummed, contently. He leaned in a bit closer to you and gave your hand a squeeze. You shifted into his side, wrapping your other hand around his arm, accepting the closeness of you two. 

You decided to break the comfortable silence, trying your magic once again to carry a brighter conversation. “Why didn’t you tell Steve about us?”

Unexpectedly, Bucky chuckled lowly at the question. Your interest peaked greatly. 

“Forgive me if I just want to explore all this new territory with you and only you.” 

“New territory?”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. “You just want me to say it again.”

You let out a fake, dramatic gasp. “James, you’re ridiculous.”

You heard him chuckle. His body shifted slightly closer to you. “I want to explore this… this soulmate thing with you. Only you. At least for now. Down the line, I have no problem showing you off but for now… It’s us.”

Soulmate. Us. 

The words rang happily in your ears. Now it really felt real. Him acknowledging it truly, wholeheartedly, and not just in the heat of an argument made shivers run through your body. 

“Us,” you repeated, a goofy grin unable to be suppressed came about on your lips. “I’m okay with that.” You let out a bit of a dreamy sigh. “You know, this all feels really new and really old at the same time.”

Bucky chuckled, “I think that’s how these things work, right?” His other hand came to lay on top of yours gently. “We feel like we’ve known each other for years because, well, I think in some twisted way we kind of have.”

You contemplated the idea, realizing you felt that very deeply. You had and had not known him for almost your whole life. While Bucky wasn’t in the exact form you learned about him in, there was something within him, the actual him, you felt you knew like the back of your hand. 

“We need to go out again,” you finally said, worried continuing with such sentiments would make you emotional for the millionth time tonight. Bucky seemed to welcome this change.

“Are you asking me out on a second date, sweetheart?”

Butterflies filled your stomach. “Well, you weren’t making any move to do it,” you shrugged, shooting Bucky a playful look. He responded with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Maybe I like a woman who takes charge,” he said, shooting you an award-winning, knowing smirk. 

You gasped, your neck suddenly getting hot. Actually, you felt much of yourself getting warm from the little innuendo hidden within his tone. Words were suddenly getting lost on your tongue as your brain short-circuited. You mumbled, “A second date could definitely be fun.”

Bucky let out a room-filling laugh at your sudden nervousness. The twinkle in his eyes told you he would enjoy making these little teasing comments to you from now on. 

“How about tomorrow night, doll? Good night for a second date, don’t you think? Assuming you actually want to see me after tonight’s fiasco.”

You nodded, ignoring his self-deprecation. You couldn’t talk it out of him so actions maybe had to speak louder. “What should we do?”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal. “You let me handle it. I’ll surprise you.”

“I thought you liked it when a woman took charge?” Now your smirk was just as evil and mischievous. Bucky raised his brows in surprise but rolled with it. He had quite the silver tongue you found. 

“Sure do,” he said, “but a man still has to make sure he takes care of his lady, too.”

You giggled and cozied up into his side, very much enjoying the sound of that. “Fine. Take the reins, Bucky.”

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Blurbmas ~ Day 6 (T.H)

12 days of blurbmas!

Request from @rebekkah4766​: Hiii! Hope you’re well! I was wondering for the Blurbmas can I get #6 and #50 from the Festive Prompt List with Tom? Thank youuuuu!! Love you and I’m loving this Blurbmas ♥️♥️ 

A/n: Thank you for the lovely request! This one was really fun to write and I hope you like it lovely! I also have started/ almost finished two christmas fics but I’m not sure whether to include them in this or not so lemme know what you think. 

WC: 900

Warnings: tommy has a bad day, lots of FLOOF

~ prompts are in bold

Tom groaned as he made his way inside, sighing softly at the warmth of his apartment. He kicked off his shoes which were covered in snow like the rest of him and quickly took off his coat before running to the heater to warm himself up. 

Usually Tom loved Christmas and winter but for some reason this year he was starting to get sick of it. First, Starbucks had run out of his favourite type of hot chocolate and then due to the ice outside he had slipped over, spilling his tea everywhere which of course the paparazzi managed to catch on camera. Tom was sure he’d be a viral sensation for that in a day or two, another meme but this time just one of embarrassment. 

The final cherry on top of the cake is that just as he had been bombarded with carol singers, Tom’s foot had slipped into an icy puddle that splashed over his clothes. The cold of the water sunk into his bones as he hightailed it back home. 

“Joy to the world, the saviour’s come-” 

“Hum one more note of that carol and I will stab you.” Tom opened his eyes to see you looking taken aback at his comment before laughing. 

“Bad day tommy?” 

“Y-you could say that.” Tom shivered and sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he closed his eyes again. You pouted before wrapping a warm fluffy blanket around Tom’s shoulders as well as your arms. 

Tom let out a happier sigh and cuddled into you, finally starting to feel warm as you held him. You played with his hair and ruffled the snow out of it, making both of you giggle before you pulled him over to the couch. 

“I’m gonna go run you a warm bath.” You got up despite Tom’s small whine and kissed his cheek as you headed to the bathroom. He smiled, thankful to have you as he watched you go, turning on New Girl as he waited for you.

10 minutes later you called him into the bathroom and he couldn’t have gotten there quicker if he tried. Tom smiled at the few candles you had set up and at the smell of the aromas of the bath perfectly set to the right temperature. You knew him too well. 

You were about to leave him to it as he started to strip before he took a hold of your wrist and pulled you close. He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his cold nose and hummed softly.

“Stay.” 

You smiled and nodded, stripping off your clothes a

As soon as Tom sunk into the warm water of the bath and was cuddled between your legs, he suddenly felt much better. You snuggled him, wrapping your arms around him and relished in the sweet moment you shared, no pretense or undertone, just pure comfort and love. 

Eventually you got out of the tub much to Tom’s dismay and whines. You only giggled and stole a kiss as you both dried off before going to grab the comfiest pair of pajamas for each of you that you could find.

You and Tom both spent the remainder of the day in bed, watching cheesy christmas movies, drinking hot drinks and eating candy canes and chocolates to your heart’s content. 

“Hey darling?” 

You hummed contently in response as he ate another candy cane, both of your eyes focused on the screen as you watched Love Actually. You threaded your fingers through his curls and smiled at seeing how happy he was after his bad day. 

“Can we open a Christmas gift?” Tom looked up at you and pouted his famous puppy dog pout. “Just a small one?” 

You sighed softly as you looked into his warm brown eyes that easily made you melt. He’d been asking for days now as it neared Christmas, desperate for just one present and you hadn’t caved. Until now.

“Normally I’d say no, but I’m on my 14th candy can, so why not?” You smiled and gave a little shrug before Tom jumped up. The smile on his face was so wide and excited that Tom looked like a little kid, an adorable little kid. 

“Yay!” Tom jumped up from the bed and ran to get two gifts, one for him and one for you. You kissed his cheek as he sat back down, noticing he’d gotten the smallest wrapped gifts he could find. 

You looked at your small wrapped box and opened it as Tom did to his. Inside your box you found a charm bracelet which had one love shaped charm attached, it read my darling. Your heart melted as you put it on and wrapped Tom up in a big hug. 

He smiled and stole a kiss, admiring the bracelet on your wrist. “It looks beautiful, just like you.” He winked, making your blush before telling him to open his. 

He tore open the wrapping paper and found a custom made snow globe that housed a picture of the both of you on your first date. You bit your lip, feeling a little bit worried as you weighed his reaction. Tom looked up at you with slightly watery eyes as he pulled you in for a hug, kissing all over your face. 

“I love it darling!” He smiled wide and shook the globe happily, watching the snowfall over the picture. Tom snuggled close to you and stole another kiss as you held each other close, basking in the moment of happiness you shared. 

You always knew how to make Tom’s days brighter and he couldn’t wait to surprise you with the question of forever on Christmas day.

Link to join my taglist is in my bio or send me an ask! 

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Tom Holland ~@teen--marvel​ @musicalkeys​ @spideyspeaches​ 

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 18 pt 1: California Public Transit can Take you to Hell, but it Can’t Take You to the Freakin Mall

Apparently Tumblr did an update, joining the throng of techie websites that chose a godawful very open and round sans fontface that creates a hell ton of white-space.

Aaaaaa

Not quite sure why every website feels like they must make all websites look like a mobile site. I do enjoy having a dark mode now and that’s nice, but man...I miss the bold font we used to have for titles on text files. Really told you “this is a title.”

Not like it matters since y’all are reading this on my own blog where I have control of how it looks, but man...that awful typeface where there kerning is nice for short stuff but just...too wide for serious reading. It’s everywhere I go.

And speaking of bad kerning, like I saw this ad for a gym that was called “49ERSFIT” (because that’s our football team, in case you don’t know) but the kerning was reallllllly narrow so I looked at it and all I could see was “49ERSHIT” and like...I can’t unsee it. I can never unsee that.

Anyways, enough about how I’m haunted by font, lets talk about Yugi, who used to be haunted by Yami, up until he died this morning. So now Yami is just kicking it all on his own for a total of....maybe a few hours now, and has already destroyed an entire Caltrain, and whatever ecosystem was in this lake.

Seto Kaiba would be so proud.

Somewhere in the Ocean, or over the ocean, or...wherever the hell Atlantis is, Darts has decided that Pharaoh is NOT dead after all, and sends Rafael to finish the job, because youknow--Darts won’t move his lazy ass until all of his lackeys are fully dead. It’s an anime.

And then we have a jump cut to this tent scene. I don’t know how much time has passed. It’s suggested it’s enough time to fully sleep. So...a full day?

And Yugioh pulls the most unexpected plot turn out of their pocket because why not, it’s Season 4. This season is just about “how many strings can I pull and get away with” (I mean have you SEEN the Death Count lately?)

........

there’s a lot of things I expected out of this kids show.

This was never one of those things I thought I would see with my eyes--one of those things I could cap with my prt scr button, and one of those things I could paste into Photoshop and be like “wow this is really a thing that was made canon.”

Like for how long I had to cap this photo of Yami and Tea sharing a bed together, the people who made this show, spent THAT much longer having to animate it. What is just mindboggling about Yugioh, is that no one on the entire team was like “oh did we just...” and this set-up happens--and they treat it like NOTHING is happening.

Like, how is that humanly possible to write your flagship pairing into the same bed and then just not even recognize it? Like I get how it’s physically possible, I just watched it, but as a writer, as an artist, as someone who tells stories, how is it possible to resist poking fun at this?

Like the RESTRAINT on the Yugioh team, y’all.

(read more under the cut)

I hope you enjoyed this trope that flashed on the screen for all of like...a minute. Lets throw a giant dog at it.

So fun fact, the Egyptian god that is shaped like a wolf is Wepwawet. He’s best known for guiding people through the underworld, which fits nicely into this episode. But, did the writers know that? Is that why Skye is here? To be a reference to Wepwawet? I have no idea. But this dog is here, and every time his eyes look directly into the camera they are drawn--a little bit wrong. Not as bad as when they drew horses, but wow they did not really enjoy drawing this dog’s eyes when it’s straight on.

As for Chris and old man in this episode, I don’t know where they got this outfit style from. It sure ain’t traditional Ohlone. It’s...I mean it’s what happens when you don’t do your research, honestly. And I get the sense that these two aren’t supposed to be any Native American tribe as recent as Ohlone, and might be Atlantean from things they say later in this episode, in regards to cards and the spirit realm or whatever--but uh...

...where did these outfits...come from? I just want to know their research. Chris has a 1920′s hat for some reason. The old man has a staff with poofy bits on it. He dresses more like a 1960′s hippie than he does an indigenous person. Questions. I have questions.

Chris leads us outside to where this old biblical-looking character is collecting all of Yugi’s dropped cards. No idea where Weevil’s went, including the card of his that currently contains his soul. Probably underneath that Caltrain somewhere.

What does Kaiba make these cards OUT OF?

Yami has decided, after this card shunned him once, that maybe it’s time to remove it from his deck.

(Pretty sure he did not decide to remove the Orichalcos, however, which is still in there, as we see later. Thing is, I just realized that Oricalchos would basically be Yugi’s soul, right? So maybe he just keeps it around for company? Takes it out occasionally and waves at it?)

Iron Heart kind of seems like that type of old guy who used to be a hippie and now teaches Physics to High Schoolers. I say this because I’ve had a couple of teachers a lot like Iron Heart where like you’d look at them and it’d be like “Yo you have to be like 600 years old, but like, all you talk about is all the drugs you did during the Hippie Era, how are you even still ALIVE?”

Speaking of people that shouldn’t be alive (although unlike my physics teacher, this guy is deffo dead...)

And then just completely out of no where Yami demands a Spirit Journey.

Like what the hell, Yami? That’s like...a crazy blunt assumption to make. Mind you, if I had asked my High School Physics teacher for a spirit journey, he would have had a lot of stories for me. He regularly told us that he could kick the ceiling (but couldn’t do it right now because he had to go to his special chiropractor first and get the right medication for that.)

Sorry my bro also had this Phsyics teacher and he just told me that he witnessed this 70+ year old man kick the ceiling and like...I don’t know if he’s lying. Either way, that is an incredible chiropractor.

And then, adjust your seat belts folks, because then this happens,

WOW!

WOW THAT’S A LOT OF LORE!

WOW HELL IS MY BACKYARD!

LITERALLY HELL BACK THERE!

Wow. Maybe that’s why California is on fire so often, amiright?

Man. In the Yugioh Universe 1.) The Loma Prieta Earthquake never happened so the Embarcadero is still multilevel 2.) The Bay Area industry got completely wiped out by Pegasus/Darts/Kaiba and is a literal wasteland 3.) The Caltrain actually goes fast 4.) Hell/Spirit Purgatory is located somewhere between the bedroom communities of San Jose and Millbrea.

The Yugioh Alternate California Universe is kind of awesome.

Ah, welcome to Yosemite, now conveniently placed in South Bay.

It also has Hell for some reason.

And then Yugioh decided to use a background from some other anime to save costs.

Speechless, I’m absolutely speechless.

This is a good season, I don’t know what some of y’all were complaining about.

Anyway, I split this one into two because it felt like...too long for one update, but the other one will be hopefully up this weekend, that’s right--I’m getting back in to the swing of things. Sort of. Kind of.

but anyways, if you just got here, this is a link to read these in chrono order from the beginning.

[momo-de-avis]

Wordtober Day 18: Misfit

Presented without comment. 

----

It’s not like I’ve always wanted to be an actress, it was just something I discovered at one point, and I was already good at public speaking so—not that far a distance to travel, right?

Well, almost. Because you see, as soon as I left school and decided on following that path, I realized I was actually not that good at it. Until then, I thought a few school plays and some praise from the drama teachers was enough, but then I was thrust into the real world and found myself facing the most dreadful monster anyone in the arts will face: criticism.

And criticism said that I sucked at it.

I never really went to college, I just took it to be a stupid idea—spending thousands for three years of studying acting. It’s not like it was a medical degree, or law school—I mean, it’s not on the same level of demand, right? I just thought, a few workshops, some professional one-year courses, a few masterclasses with well-known names, and it would suffice. I read a bit on my spare time too, mostly plays, and though I tried picking up books on acting, I generally just quit after a while, bored out of my mind.

I always loved the idea of pretending to be someone else on a stage or in front of a camera, this thing about letting go of who you are entirely as you prepare for a role, and embody someone else so deeply you almost forget about yourself. I always was fascinated by method actors losing their marbles over those wacky roles they poured themselves into, body and mind. A bit morbid, yeah, but interesting. I thought I was learning more from them than I possibly could in a three-year-long university course.

So I did what I could, here and there, and after four years my resume amounted to a few masterclasses and courses that cast me aside before a fellow competitor who showed up with big university names listed alongside pompous grades. This might have been about when I realize I’d made some serious misjudgement, and a petty one at that.

Six years down the line, and I was making a living out of being an extra on random shit on the telly. A few soap operas, some historical TV shows, even talk-shows. They paid little, but at least production provided a snack, and the good thing was that I got to stand in the back, watching the crew go mad about a slight fault in equipment or what-have-you, which gave me the chance to strike up a nice chat with some pop star from the telly out there. It was fun, even educational, considering TV stars love giving you unsolicited advice when you share your wish of becoming an actor with them. But it was actually quite crushing too.

I mean, I had to listen to these people going on about never quitting, never giving up on my dreams, that it’s a cutthroat world out there, competition this and that, and everyone wants a piece of what they have—go on, fly, you little bird! Sure. But not really. I might have misjudged things and should have gone to university, definitely, but it’s not like I didn’t try. I did try. I went to casting calls nearly every week, attended lectures, all that. I just hated wasting my time with networking, the one thing everyone insisted on was absolutely a necessity, like whatever talent you might have, it won’t matter until you talk like a pompous ass.

Ten years, and the best gig I had landed was a poorly made theatre production about a little kid on the moon that was, if I am being honest, a straight-up rip-off from The Little Prince, and intended at a younger audience too, though I suspect the theatre director’s decision on casting grown adults to play little children in an almost demeaning way was the major ingredient to attracting a series of college students who had a laugh with it. The critics weren’t nice about it either, but I did my job.

There were other jobs, but they were equally bad, if not worse. This one just paid best.

Twelve years on, and I escalated to a commercial on toothpaste, where I played the fake doctor saying nine out of ten dentists went absolutely nuts over this one brand, while holding a tube of—I kid you not—bland white paste that smelled of plaster. Later on, I’d even do a fast food commercial where I had to bite into a burger riddled with needles to keep the lettuce, cheese, tomato and beef straight, and though my stardom amounted to a close-up of my nostrils and biting teeth, it took me five tries because I was terrified of being impaled in the gums.

I was frustrated, I won’t deny it. I was even ashamed of showing my resume to whoever, and for every casting call I attended, I could see the disdain on those faces sitting behind that desk—that dismissive look of a casting director as she pushed her glasses down the bridge of her nose, read my miserable career’s story and asked me questions I dreaded answering. I even auditioned for bold parts I knew I’d never get, things like proper characters on TV, the lead detective on some cop show, or the love interest in a soap opera, even standing girl showing off the prices in some quiz crap.

Nothing.

You speculate when you fail, you know. Think often that it’s you: maybe you’re ugly, you’re cursed, you don’t dress properly, you don’t talk right, you lack whatever bedazzle these people, sitting at the top, have—you just lack something. Though I had the talent, I think—I might have sucked when I first started, but I got better, and there are enough mediocre actors out there making six figures to prove talent doesn’t mean shit in this world—right? So I really could not tell why I was failing, when I tried—I tried, time and again—and I just failed and failed and failed. Fail again, fail better—Beckett was a lying twat, that’s what.

Then, one afternoon, I went into a casting call for something grand, a secondary role for a recurrent character on a major TV production, some sci-fi stuff. It seemed easy enough when I read the script and the guidelines of what they were looking for, and I didn’t really do much practising—I’m good at improvisation, I reckon, even tried it for a while, though it mostly deals with comedy and I am not funny. But outside of that, I swear I am good at improvising—so I went with it, given what I had.

And I blew it. I mean monumentally blew it. I stuttered every single line that came out of my mouth, I asked to stop and try again five times, I paced back and forth with heavy breaths, trying to put my mind in order, but everything was just scrambled inside my head like when you drop a bunch of papers on the ground and try to put them back together, and I was sweating profusely—I mean, I looked like a morning jogger on his way back home. I don’t know what happened to me, I just froze in an instant of panic like I never had before—it’s my greatest quality, I can just stand before an audience and act, audiences just do not bother me at all, I’m good like that. But that day I just… felt wrecked. I couldn’t even admit to myself I should have prepared, but I had set this goal, that if I’d manage to just improvise the right way with no proper warm-up, then that meant I was good.

But I wasn’t. I blew it bad. And I walked out of there absolutely certain I had missed on yet another major opportunity.

As I opened the door to leave, someone else was coming inside, though at first I missed it and nearly let the door smash against their face. I turned back abruptly, held the door for them, apologized and… froze.

She looked exactly like me. I mean exactly the same. Same sandy-brown skin, same heart-shaped, chubby face, same light brown hairs, slightly discoloured at the tips, same tawny lips and brown eyes, even the same freckles on the nose—just everything exactly like me.

Our eyes locked on one another and she smiled, but I was certain I was just so shaken I was beginning to imagine things, so I just went home and never thought about it again.

Eight months later, the show debuted. I didn’t have any intention of watching it, considering it reminded me of my worst failure yet, but I was just skimming through the channels that night and happened to stop there for a second to reach in and grab my water bottle, and I saw it. I saw her.

She had gotten the part, and she was on TV, playing the side-character that was to be recurrent as well, but with my face. Exactly like me in every aspect—even as she spoke, it was my voice, same precise tone and accent, same quirks to the Rs and fluctuations of the Ls—just everything. A carbon copy of myself.

I searched her online—the name, at least, was different—and was slapped with a never-ending list of websites showering her with praise. The secondary character who was stealing the show, a new star was born; the flesh, the depth, the vigour she gave this mundane woman on the screen, the unmatched talent—truly, a rising star.

I can’t express just how angry it made me feel. She looked just like me—it was impossible that nobody could see it—and it turns out, I hadn’t dreamed it, that day. The more I searched her online, the more her face showed up—everywhere, just everywhere, endless pictures of this woman who had stolen my face and my talent and now every pair of eyes in the country—the world!—was on her.

I called my mum, asked her to have a look, insisted on the similarity without ever really saying just how starkly equal we were—and she dismissed it. Laughed. What do you mean!, she screamed, amused. Tou two look nothing alike! I called a friend, asked the same—even before I could spell out my troubles, she was already showering her with praise—oh, have you seen the show?, it’s marvellous, I love her role, she just puts so much heart into it, you have to watch it! But when I pressed her, she pushed it aside—looks didn’t matter, she told me—though that wasn’t even the subject at hand—and surely, you two look nothing alike.

Yet everywhere, it was me that I saw. That woman had my face, my body, my voice—and had stolen my talent.

I tried to forget about it, kept going to casting calls—and somehow, from that moment on, it seemed my luck turned for the worst. I got struck by an unexpected sense of panic, sweating profusely and shuddering at every step, hyperventilating as if I was about to pass out, and forgot my lines. I trusted my instinct on improvisation still, but that one tool that had helped me so much in the past was suddenly useless. I became afraid of hearing the sound of rejection—no, nada, zilch, bye, you suck, choose another career—it haunted me at night and I’d wake up with tears as I thought about this woman with my face stealing my confidence.

Nobody could see it. Everyone I asked, everyone I knew, I insisted she looked exactly like me, but they couldn’t see it. They laughed it off, said I was imagining things; when I pressed, they began to walk away and frown at me with suspicion as if I was nuts; when my reason began to cloud my judgement, they showed worry, suggested I should seek help. At last one day, I screamed at mum for not daring to see it and she started crying, saying I was just jealous of her fame as I had been all my life, with my dismissive attitude towards all and any who got the things I had wanted for so long without even trying hard.

She was lying, of course. I wasn’t jealous, though I couldn’t stand their pep-talks during filming breaks, between a coffee and a cigarette, and their follow-your-dreams bullshit. But this was different. I wasn’t jealous, it was just outright unfair! She looked exactly like me, how could nobody see it? And ever since she appeared in this world, she had stolen my everything—my attention, my chances, my glow, my focus. I was a shit actress again because a random stranger with my liking simply pulled the rug from beneath my feet and reaped the profits of what I had sowed!

It got worse, of course. I started drinking to get her face off my mind, but she was all I thought about, which is incredibly bizarre because the face that popped up in my head at night, as I rolled in bed with a headache, was mine, but now I was seeing myself from the outside, as—I suppose—the world saw me, but through this heavy filter of absolute scorching hatred. Yes, I hated her; I hated her so much it was all there was on my mind; I hated her with all my might, with all my vigour, and I wanted her to go away forever so I could retrieve what she had stolen.

I mean—it was unfair! Because my mum was wrong, I tried so hard, and this broad stole my appearance, my face, my voice, my outside, and suddenly she’s being given the chance to rise to the top! I even checked her resume: she attended university, worked with a drama company for three years, did comedy improv—are you joking me? Everything I tried and failed at, everything I shoved aside because I didn’t want to waste any time—she got it? That’s what separated us, what made me a failure, and she a star—a college degree?

And I mean—what else? Did she have anything I didn’t—despite, well, clearly my appearance? Maybe she fell for that crap everyone kept telling me, in the most condescending manner possible: you have to talk to people, networking is the way to go! Just talk, like that—just hold up a glass of wine and pretend, pretend you’re just like these uptight assholes standing at the top, share a laugh at a joke you don’t understand and be all fancy to their eyes—was that it? Because there had to be something else, something else besides my appearance and my talent. Just something.

I searched for very long, so long I lost focus and was out of work, eventually. I watched her videos, her interviews, analysed her behaviour—she even had my tics! The way she bit her lip, picking at the skin, while she listened to someone talk, or how she clicked her fingernails together when she thought about a question, turning her eyes down to her lap—those were mine! I even remember seeing pink magazines going on about how cute it was that she bit the skin of her fingers before a live interview because she was nervous—seriously? I did that!

Just… everything. Everything there was to know about me now existed in this person like an unauthorized biography. She told people my life’s story, my experiences, my past—the dogs and guinea pig I had as a child, the tiny scar on my knee from when I fell on the schoolyard at eight years old, that quip about the piece of paper I burned during class at fifteen.

Even when she talked about the things that were clearly hers, there was something of me. There was this one interview where she admitted she almost didn’t go to college, and when the interviewer asked why, she said, with a coy smile and pushing a lock of her hair back—like me: oh, because I was so afraid of trying something new and being put to the test, just being put into this position where I would be forced to be critical of my own talents, and I was scared of failing. And then, she looked straight into the camera.

I swear, watching that face, sat on my couch, I swear she was looking at me; I swear that bitch knew. She knew she was talking about me, because those were my thoughts. That nervousness, that hesitation, that was me on the day I held the form in my hands to apply for drama school, but didn’t. That fear was mine. And senseless as it was, I was in the right to claim my own fears, dammit! I had stood in the rain, shaking with anticipation, and I had thrown the papers in the bin because I didn’t want to be subjected to the endless torture of being told by college professors that I sucked!

My drinking got worse, my eating habits were shit, I moved back in with my mum, and my life just generally spiralled out of control. I attended casting calls with a hangover and ruined my chances; I started bawling my eyes out in the middle of shooting a commercial for a coffee brand; I fell asleep while filming a documentary where I played an extra, and was kicked out when I started a fight with the casting director on another shooting because she complained about my lack of makeup. Everywhere I went, I was just a shadow of this woman that twinkled before the cameras like a star in the skies; I was just the shameful part of a starlet, a skeleton in a closet I didn’t even know. The evil twin, if you will.

I thought my life was over. A year passed, and my mum thought I was developing an unhealthy obsession with this woman, saying I should just walk up to a mental hospital and check myself in—no more suggestions, just blatantly saying: you’re insane. My friends stopped talking to me because, according to them, I was acting strange, unable to let go of the inane idea that some random actress who had risen to fame so quickly looked, acted and existed exactly like my carbon copy. They refused to see that she was me. They refused to acknowledge that her stories were mine. They denied any similarity—over and over again, they just told me I was batshit crazy.

So I quit. I quit my dream, my life and my passions, and I just let this person possess my everything, while dreaming of hating her so much I’d kill her if I had the chance.

And that was it. It was either me or her, but this world was not made to have the two of us in it.

I tried messaging her. Found her online, every profile I could, and pasted the exact same message on every one of them, sent privately: you stole my life. Seconds later, every single messaging system beeped: you stole my life. The exact same words I had sent her, now sent back to me. I tried again, this time typing something different: you’re pretending to be me, you scheming little bitch—and they beeped back: same message, ipsis verbis. Eventually, I slammed the keyboard, producing a string of incomprehensible jargon of just random letters, numbers and symbols—and hit enter. And the exact same string of nonsense was returned to me.

I stared at the blinking cursor for a long time, shuddering in the half-darkness of my room in dread, certain nothing about this was normal, and yet the prevailing emotion to my heart was just pure, boisterous rage. Whatever it was, whatever she was, it was clear she was keen on driving me insane, forcing me into the piths of my own madness, until all there was to my existence was my obsession with this double that had stolen my life and made a spectacle out of it—while no one believed me.

So I looked for her. It wasn’t hard to figure out where she lived, not with all the gossiping magazines stalking her to the gym, to the store, to the movies, complaining about her outfits—outfits I owned, too. It simply took a little patience, some careful watching, some geographical studying of her movements, and within two weeks, I managed to figure out where she lived by simply following her route home.

It was night when I finally decided on confronting her. She turned the street and walked ahead calmly, hands deep in her pockets, and I stalked her into an empty alleyway with barely a light on. She stopped in front of a closed door, placed her hand on it and turned around—looking straight into my eyes with a twisted, perverted smile. Then, she pushed the door open and went inside—and left it ajar for me.

The building was bare empty. I mean bare empty. Every light was off, the lift not working, no sound coming from behind any door in any hallway. No plants, no garbage bins, not even a piece of advertising flapping off some mailbox—nothing. As if nobody lived there, except her. It was so vacant, so hollow, it made me shudder, like I was walking into a trap, and were it not for my obsession on hating this woman, on setting this matter straight once and for all, I would have gotten out of there. I was shaking in terror, absolutely mortified of the idea of what I would find there—I mean, the walls were dirty, with chipped off paint, some of them riddled with old graffiti—it seriously looked stripped bare of life, and like it had been so for a very long time.

But I still went inside. Terrified of what was to come, quivering at the sight of every dancing shadow, breathing heavily, I went into that dark, hollow building, reeking of old pipes and copper, and found the only door open with light inside.

I went in, but the flat appeared abandoned as well. There was but a ratty old sofa in the middle, a broken coffee table in front of it, no TV and no electrical apparatus of any sort, just old furniture scattered about. No curtains either, just the electric lights outside shining in with ease, and it cast a faint glimmer of yellow and orange on the absolute misery that was the flat. Even as I crossed the door, a million things cracked under my soles and I saw, to my surprise, there was just rubble everywhere, pieces of old stone crumbled down, broken glass here and there and garbage. A dusty bottle in a corner, a syringe glistening beneath an old chair, cigarette butts and empty crisp packets everywhere.

She stood under a doorway, her face absolutely frozen, the traits of her that composed me barely visible under the lack of light—and I trembled at the sight. I hated her, but there was something inhuman to that woman, something out of this world. She wasn’t normal. She was not supposed to exist. She was not something someone just made happen, something that just existed, that was just… there. She was like a glitch, a malfunction that nobody set straight, and I wondered—how long had she been there? Had she been there all my life and I hadn’t noticed? Had she been watching me from afar, waiting for the right time to reveal herself in full and take over my insecurities and failures to aggrandize them and twist them to her own liking, making me the sorrowful, miserable looser on the fringe of despair?

I didn’t know what to do for a long time. All my body felt compelled to do was cry, just curl into a ball and cry, and sobbing into my clothes, bawling like a toddler, I just said: why? I wanted to tell her I hated her, I wanted to pick up a shard from the floor and stick it into her skull, I wanted to cut her and make her bleed, to watch her wither in pain and maybe even cry too—but I just teared up and shrivelled in tears.

I don’t know how long it passed, but it seemed quite long. Throughout, she didn’t move—she just stood and watched. When I finally wiped my tears and looked into her eyes, she was smiling—that same perverse smile of someone sketched into reality solely to cause you fear and horror and make you tremble in your whole existence, just someone tailored to be your very own tormentor. I hated her still, but what I felt more vividly inside my pumping heart was utter, paralyzing fear. Fear she would take over me so completely I would eventually vanish, evaporate like sand in the wind, gone into thin air, forever; until all that was left was but a faint memory of someone who might have been there once, but wasn’t anymore—until that too would be gone. And I’d be nothing but a mistake forged somewhere in the past, by two people who had sorrowfully made sex one night to produce a child, and that child would fall into oblivion, stolen from the memory of the world forever by an alien meant to mimic my very own self.

I was so terrified she would take everything away from me that was all I’d be left with: nothingness, obscurity. Worse: me. Just me. Just my failures and my life. Just a life led through a string of mistakes I had swept under a rug to pretend they had never been there and moved on with a false sense of security, terrified of starting over. I was terrified this woman, who had stolen everything that was me, was there to laugh one last laugh and take all that I had left: my broken self.

And there she was: the projection of a failed dream. Successful in all I had never been, able to overcome every step I had climbed down, clambering her way up while I kept on falling. The ideal. The past and future without so much as a hint of the present—in the flesh, through me, in my image. Laughing in scorn.

She gave a step forward, picked up a shard from the floor, twisted it in her fingers; her smile grew, white teeth glinting silver, and something daunting fell on my shoulders as I watched in silence, quivering in dread. She looked again at me with a glare, and the corners of her lips fell abruptly as she frowned and pressed the shard between her fingers.

“Is this what you want?” She asked; with one swift gesture, she pulled up her sleeve and gripped the shard. The glinting piece of glass entered her flesh, a slick, thin line of red slithered up her arm, and it thickened as the pressed deeper and deeper—eyes locked on mine—until the blood pooled on the ground beneath her.

I flinched, gasped and held onto my arm; I felt that jabbing pain too, but it was somehow sweet, and instead of warding it away, I embraced it—though the crying returned, and this time more copious than before. And when she was done, she did it again—slicing herself until the blood squirted out and her fingers were covered in red, and not a slight sense of pain to her. All I could say was one thing: stop hurting me.

She stopped, dropped the shard on the floor and walked away. For a very long time, I couldn’t move, cast over a sense of paralyzing terror so great I was afraid of opening my eyes and find things I didn’t want to see—but glad, so glad she was gone. And I knew then—somehow, I knew—she was gone for good. Gone from my life. Gone from the world.

I looked down at my arm, pulled up my sleeve, and there was a scar there, long and thin, but marked with a lump of creasy skin.

It was morning when I went home. From that day on, she ceased to exist. No more articles about her, her name wasn’t listed in any movie, and every poster ever made with her now featured someone else. When I told people her name, they didn’t recognize it.

She was just gone, as if nobody had even noticed she’d been there at all. 

And now, being the only one who remembers her, who remembers all that horrible, gnawing pain that ate up my arm that night, or that paralyzing dread of seeing my double steal from my failures, feels like being stuck inside a cage forever.

___

Past Challenges:

Wordtober Day 1: Ring

Wordtober Day 2: Mindless

Wordtober Day 3: Bait

Wordtober Day 4: Freeze

Wordtober Day 5: Build I

Wordtober Day 6: Build II

Wordtober Day 7: Enchanted (Encantada)

Wordtober Day 8: Frail

Wordtober Day 9: Swing

Wordtober Day 10: Pattern

Wordtober Day 11: Snow

(Skipped Day 12)

Wodrtober Day 13: Ash

Wordtober Day 14: Overgrown

Wordtober Day 15: Legend

Wordtober Day 16: Wild

(Skipped day 17)

[bluesfortheredj]

You tap the end of your make up brush against your palm as you wait for the next person to enter your trailer, and as soon as your hear his voice from outside the door, your heart skips a beat. You jump up from leaning on the counter then straighten out your shirt and quickly smooth down your hair before he sees you.

“Ready for me?” he asks as he enters without knocking.

“Oh, Gwilym, I’m always ready for you,” you grin, and he blushes as he laughs.

“You’ve made my day already and it’s only half six,” he sighs happily as he drops himself down into the chair that faces the large mirror. You lean over from the side as you begin to wipe his face with a cleanser, then apply a nourishing cream as a base for his make up, and as you dab at his skin you find your eyes wandering down to the deep v shape in his cream t-shirt. Your tongue darts out from between your lips to lick them as you eye his chest hair and he smiles to himself in the mirror as he watches you carefully.

“So, what do you prefer on a man, (Y/N)… A bit of chest hair, or smooth and shaven?” he asks as you meet his gaze. Your mouth opens to reply but no sound comes out, so you end up looking like a fish as your lips move together then apart again.

“Can’t beat a bit of hair,” you eventually manage to squeak.

“I thought you’d say that,” he chuckles.

This was the part of your morning routine that you enjoyed the most, and Gwilym had become increasingly bold with his flirting recently as you got to know each other better and better each day. Your days had become that much brighter knowing that you’d get to see him, and you soon found yourself counting down the hours until you saw him again which you knew was a bad sign.

“(Y/N), can I ask you something?” Gwilym suddenly questions as you turn to your table full of make up and pick up a small tube of primer.

“Of course,” you smile when you turn back to face him.

“I was just-”

“Is pretty boy done yet?” Ben asks as he barges through the door unceremoniously.

Both you and Gwilym let out frustrated sighs as he flops down on the couch at the end of the trailer while he waits for you to be done with Gwil, and your conversation stops dead in its tracks.

“You don’t need to stop on my account,” Ben smirks over at you both as you hurriedly finish off Gwil’s make up.

“All done!” you announce, then turn to your table so you don’t have to watch him leave.

“Right, what am I in for today then?” Ben grins as he plants himself in the chair that Gwilym was sat in only moments ago, “oh, and sorry for disrupting you two love birds.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply as you bustle around the counter and almost knock a bottle of foundation on the floor.

“Of course you don’t, and neither does Gwilym either apparently,” he smirks.

“Got your drumsticks on you?” you ask.

“No, why?”

“Well that’s a shame, I need something to hit you with,” you laugh before giving him a playful slap on the arm.

“Not my fault you two are so obvious about it,” he winks as he rubs his skin where you hit him.

Once Ben was finished and your trailer falls quiet as everyone makes their way to set, you take a few minutes to yourself and sit down with a cup of tea and your phone for company. Your thumb scrolls through instagram as usual, liking the odd photo every now and again, but you stop when it gets to the suggested people and you spot your ex boyfriend’s face straight away. A sinking feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as your eyes fixate on the tiny picture on the screen, and you almost tap on his profile before you think better of it and scroll past quickly.

The nagging voice in the back of your head continues throughout the day, making it increasingly difficult to resist taking a peek. It was a simple curiosity of what he was up to in life now, and things hadn’t ended badly so there was no negativity there; it’s like when you see an old school friend on facebook, and you have to click on their profile, even though you know it’s going to be filled with pictures of their children. You made a decision as soon as you left work that night, and if you were still wondering about it all in the morning, then you’d look.

As expected you wake up with that same thought floating around in your mind like a small cloud on an otherwise clear day, and you tap on instagram to see your suggested people hadn’t changed. There he was again, his blank expression staring back at you from his chosen photo. He never was one for smiling and that alone makes you chuckle to yourself before you finally press on it to see his profile.

“Oh, wow,” you say aloud as you see that he’s now married. He looks happy and it made you happy to see that rare smile in his wedding photo. His wife is pretty, thin, and blonde, and they look wonderful together in the pictures from their big day. You don’t spend too long on his profile and when you come off of it you’re not feeling too bad about it all, but then the comparisons start.

Of course everyone takes life at their own pace, but you’re the same age and he’s married already. Sure, other people your age have kids too, and most of them in school now, but there was something about this that was getting to you because you could not be further from anything like that in your life right now. You’d love to be settled with someone, but you are on the downhill slope towards thirty with no sign of a partner, and suddenly you start to wonder why. Your thoughts spiral on your way to work, and the fact that it’s four in the morning and you haven’t had a coffee yet is definitely not helping.

“Morning!” Gwilym grins as he walks into the trailer soon after you arrive, holding two cups of coffee, “I saw you walk in and thought you could use this. You look a little sombre this morning.”

“Thanks,” you smile as you take the cup from him, but you’re too distracted to say anything else.

“Is everything okay?” he asks as he takes his seat and looks up at you with a concerned frown.

“Fine,” you nod, “just fine.”

Gwilym frowns as you start to pick up items from your table then put them back down again when you realise they’re not what you need, and he reaches his hand out to yours to comfort you.

“Hey, you can talk to me if you want,” he says softly as his fingers stroke your knuckles.

“I’m fine,” you smile weakly.

“Alright then, here’s a question for you,” he grins, settling back in the chair, “men with long curly hair or short and swept to the side?”

“Both. At the same time,” you chuckle lightly, but stop almost as soon as you’ve started, then get to work in a solemn silence. Gwilym tries his best to get you into a proper conversation but it doesn’t work, and your answers are kept short. As he leaves the trailer he notices you hunch over in front of the mirror and take a look at yourself with an expression of disdain, and it leaves him with a sadness that sticks by him for the rest of the day.

“Have you seen (Y/N)?” he asks every person he passes once he’s done with filming. Finally he gets an answer from one of the women from wardrobe, and he finds you sitting by yourself on a chair near the car park, twirling a cigarette around in your hand.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” he smiles kindly as he approaches your slumped figure.

“I haven’t done in years,” you sigh, not taking your eyes off of the stick that rests between your fingers.

“Feeling stressed?” Gwil asks as he sits down on the floor next to you.

“I’m feeling… Unsettled.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“It’s stupid, really,” you say as you shake your head.

“It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you this much. You were like a completely different person this morning, I’ve been worrying about you all day.”

You turn to look at him and meet his bright blue eyes which are filled with concern as they study your face, then you slide off of your chair so you can sit leaning up against his arm. He gladly places his arm around your shoulders as he smiles to himself, then waits for you to open up to him.

“So I know that you shouldn’t compare your life to anyone else’s, but when I’m surrounded by people that are the same age who are getting married, having children, and generally doing very grown up things that seem so far away in my own life, sometimes it just gets to me, you know? It sounds stupid, and my goodness do I sound ungrateful, but-”

“No, you don’t sound stupid in the slightest. I feel the same sometimes. Everyone sort of assumes that because of my job my life is sorted, but it’s not at all. Professionally, yes, but personally, far from it.”

“Exactly! I couldn’t be happier with my job, and I know that I’m one of the very few people in my friendship group who can say they enjoy going to work everyday, but that’s only part of it. Everything else is all up in the air, and the pressure and expectations set by everyone else just overwhelms me sometimes.”

“It’s okay, it’s only natural to feel like that what with bloody social media everywhere and engagement announcements every five seconds,” Gwilym reassures, and you tilt your head up to look at his kind face that was already aimed towards you, “anyway, those things may come to us sooner than we think...”

His lips slowly form into a smile as you both maintain eye contact, then he moves his head towards yours ever so slightly to test the waters. You smile up at him as his grip on your shoulder becomes tighter, and you also move forwards a little to let him know you felt the same. Within a couple of seconds your lips meet in the middle in a soft kiss and your hand reaches up to his cheek as he slips his tongue into your mouth. When you both eventually pull away from one another, your faces are flushed red, and neither of you are sure where to look.

“I think you’re right,” you say shyly.

Request: I have a request for Gwilym! The reader works as a makeup artist on set of Bo Rhap and always has a joke and flirts with Gwilym, but one day he notices she’s quieter than normal and doesn’t really speak whilst she’s getting him ready then finds her after he finishes filming and comforts her because she just feels a little sad and their first kiss happens?

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @ametaphorbrian @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn

[the-golden-times-archived]

The Lost Prince

(Below the cut for length, also includes a warning for Emetophobia )

The tales of the site were all the same "Haunted", "Abandoned", "Best left alone because things live there.", but that didn't stop the curious from coming into what was affectionately known as "The Grey Zone" for the higher beings. Here was where Reapers, Heaven and Hell alike turned a blind eye, in hopes of keeping the beast inside placated. Lucifer was easy, the King of Hell, he had a job, a role he had to fit into, this creature...not so much. Benetius as he was known, had been Lucifer's right hand man, some say...he was the reason that led to Lucifer's fall in the first place, a Prince of Darkness in his own right.

The place was quiet when the rotted boards gave way to an intruder, allowing them to tumble into the darkness of the studio. The scent of ink and dust was thick, a hallway led into the main room where there were posters everywhere for the cartoons of Joey Drew Studios. On the far left was a small row of chairs before a projector that was running quietly, a happy little demon bouncing on the screen in time to the music that crackled through the speakers like a soft wheezing whisper.

Elsewhere, two beings perked up at the sound that rang through the empty studio, something other than the pulsing thump of the ink that flowed through the halls, other than the quiet sobbing of the trapped souls...there was new prey here.

Deep within the heart of the studio, Benny instantly felt the prickle of power, his eyes opening a moment, red slits shimmering with glee. "Well well well....a lost lil lamb huh?" His grin grew wider, the points of his teeth showing as he pressed a message through to his servants, their hands glowing faintly as the words entered their minds. "Bring him t'me....alive..."

They both nodded quietly and glanced at one another before they set out....they must bring the lamb to their lord. Norman shifted and made his way up one staircase, Sammy heading up the other to perform their usual tactic of cornering prey that wandered into the studio. It was fun to them, like a game...and in the end, they both won as did their Lord.

There was a loud sound above, a thunderous clatter and the sound of broken glass as it seemed that whatever little lamb wandered into the studio had broken something in a panic. “‘How amusing~” Sammy thought as he pondered just who it might be this time? It seems the sheep was bold, having no care to hide their presence with the cacophony of racket they decided to make. Perhaps it was meant as a challenge? Oh then this game would be very fun to say the least. He hummed as he slowly made his way up to the first floor, hanging back and just waiting. Through the numerous cutouts, via his Lord's gifts, he could see...he could hear and one propped in the nearby corner gave him the answers he was looking for. A toon? A demon toon at that. How odd...it was rare that such creatures came into their domain, especially since this was a human populated area now.

The demon appeared to be young, with dark skin and two large wings on his back that flapped in his anxiousness. It seems that the noise they had heard was the projector being knocked over. It was almost cute in a way, to see the panicked little toon shoving the projector back on its table before gathering up the broken bulb and fretting over where to hide the evidence of what he had done. His eyes were pitch black with white pupils that held simple black slits, his horns stark contrast to his hair, standing out pure white against the ebon strands. His tail was interesting as well, splitting halfway its length into two seperate tail ends, tipped with simple spades. The young toon continued to fret and panic, his voice reaching Sammy’s ears easily as he made his way into the nearby hall “"O..Oh no...Oh boy ...uh ...what do I do, what do I do?" came the trembling voice.

Sammy studied the broken projector through the cutout with mild disinterest, shifting to pull his wrench from the back loop of his overalls. As he strolled, he pressed it against the wall, letting it drag and catch along the boards, creating a slow rhythmic tapping as he continued his walk. Sammy had to admit, he did always enjoy giving prey a fright, it usually made them run...and the chase was half the fun. He couldn’t help the sharp grin that pulled over his features as the toon startled from the noise and dropped the shards of glass he was holding, bumping into the table and knocking the projector back over as the taps echoed through the ink stained halls. After a moment, he let his voice ring through the darkness, low and melodious as he taunted his new prey, "I hear a little sheep....a new sacrifice for my Lord....worry not little sheep...I will shepherd you~"

The music director watched in amusement as the demon toon looked around in a panic and instead of running, took the time to attempt to hide the broken projector under the table of all things. He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at how the toon’s look deflated, almost as if he had been insulted before again that trembling voice rang out, this time in defiance. “I..I’m not a sheep.” The being stammered, his voice sounding unsure and almost meek as Sammy grew closer and withdrew his sight from the cutout as he rounded the bend to regard the other with a tilt of his head and a hum, giving the wrench a slow twirl in his hand. He honestly expected this toon to turn tail and run, most that ventured into the studio did so..and he often herded them right into Norman. It was a tried and true method to their hunting, and their Lord so often told them not to mess with a good thing.

Surprisingly though, the demonic toon stood his ground, though the swishing of his tail belied his somewhat calm, if not crestfallen demeanor. "Oh but you are little lamb...My Lord wishes for me to bring you to him..." Sammy gave a grin behind his mask as he took another step. "Come now...you can either come quietly or...we'll do this the hard way...you cannot escape...either way is fine for me..but...my Lord....wishes for your presence..." What gave Sammy pause was the young demon seeming to perk up at the mention of his Lord.

After a moment’s pause, a rather heavy one at that, the young lad spoke up. “W...Who is this Lord?” He asked tentatively, Sammy watching his expression lift to one of...hope? How odd~ “I...Is the Lord the demon?!” The toon’s wings flapped as he hurried across the room -toward- him with a hopeful look on his face as he continued his strange inquiry, “"Is he!? I need to talk to him! Really really badly too!” The lad came to a stop looking up at him and seemed to almost be begging with those strange eyes of his as he pleaded again. “I..If he is the demon, p-please, bring me to him?”

Sammy was actually at a loss for words and gave a soft exhaling laugh as he slipped his wrench easily into its loop on the back of his overalls. So much for the hunt...ah well...perhaps the next one? "Wonderful my little lamb...it saves us the trouble of the chase...though...it's a bit of a shame...I was looking forward to a good chase." He murmured, his voice low and wistful, as if he were speaking to someone who wasn’t there. After a moment, Sammy shook his head, the soft charcoal curls of his hair giving a slight bob with a motion before he turned his gaze back to the strange toon properly. “Come. This way.” He said simply, turning on his heel to go back the way he came...towards the center of the studio..towards his Lord.

He was aware of the toon demon’s nervous footsteps behind him, smiling softly as the other spoke at his back. “Not a lamb…” The lad muttered, seeming to be upset about the title, but it was true; this one was special to his Lord, a precious little lamb to be delivered pristine and whole. After a moment, another set of footsteps joined them and a warm amber light flooded the hallway from behind, throwing their shadows in sharp relief over the wood that made up the room. Sammy smiled behind his mask at Norman’s presence, the soft whirring of his projector and the light he provided was always a great comfort in the absence of his Lord.

Sammy glanced back a moment as the toon spoke again, to Norman this time, looking incredibly apologetic as he spoke, “O...Oh also I... I'm sorry for breaking a...light making picture machine..." Norman regarded him for a moment before giving a slow nod of acceptance, Sammy chuckling as he returned his gaze forward, leading them through the maze of the studio’s halls. "Hm, do not worry my lamb, Norman is rather skilled at fixing such incidents.." A low sultry chuckle then. "It happens often.." he murmured as they continued down through the hallways.

He heard the young toon take a shaky breath and let it out as they continued to walk, "O...Oh I'm...glad that it's alright..." Sammy could nearly taste the relief in his voice as they made their way to their destination. At the end of one of the halls sat a door, its frame soaked through with ink, oozing and dripping around the edges as though it were attempting to hold back some great torrent of the stuff. Oddly enough, from behind the door came the sound of swing music of all things, along with a low voice humming along to it. Sammy paused as the young demon took a breath and looked to him, then to the door nervously. “T-the demon is powerful right? Powerful and feared?” the young demon asked, his tail swishing around, wings twitching and fluttering just slightly as they tried to decide how to properly lie against his back.

Sammy gave a wide proud grin then, the bright white of his rather sharp teeth stark against the inky blackness of his skin. "Our Lord is most powerful little lamb...he rules this place and we...are his humble servants, shaped to his desires to best serve him." he said softly, reaching for the knob and opening the door easily. Sammy stepped to the side, gesturing towards the inside, a place that was in sharp stark contrast to the rest of the studio.

Before them was an office, tastefully done in dark woods and rich red tones, a large  dark wooden desk lingered to the back of the room, there was even a little fireplace that was lit, a warm fire crackling away. Behind the desk, was that same little toon from the moving picture before, but here he was in the flesh. He was a simple looking little toon, no clothing save for a pair of white gloves and a rather charming little bowtie along with a pair of black shiny shoes which were propped up on the desk. He hummed along to the song, his tail flicking around with the beat, lifting dark pie cut eyes to the young demon that entered the deepest part of the lair.

"Hm? Well well....we have a guest~” Benny watched in amusement as his guest kept his head low, almost flinching as he stepped over the threshold into his den properly. It was his home turf after all, created and maintained with his own demonic energy so such a clash in power would be a bit...uncomfortable for a weaker being unused to such. “Thank ya boys...that'll be all.." He said lightly, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "As you will it my Lord.." Sammy said with a soft bow of his head before closing the door quietly behind him. As the young demon stood nervously before the door, Benny gave a small laugh, a grin splitting his features. "And what brings ya all this way t'see lil ol' me hm?"

The younger male shifted on his feet, seeming to be trying to muster his courage. Benny watched as the boy rubbed at his arm a moment, taking a steeling breath before he spoke, nervously lifting those unique piecuts to meet his own. “"W...Well... you're a demon right? A real demon?” He hesitated a moment before he slowly unwound his tight posture and tentatively made his way to in front of the desk. "I...need your help. Please."

Benny tilted his head and smirked slightly, a soft laugh in his chest once again, his eyes shining in amusement at the question. “Ohh...I don't need t'answer that kid, you knew th' answer th' second you walked inta this place.." His tail flicked gently around behind him as he slipped his feet off the desk and reached over to turn down the radio with a light flick of the dial.  

"Y...Yeah I know..." The young demon replied, his own tail giving away his nervousness, the two tips flicking and twitching. Benny watched him for a moment before he continued, "Th' names Benny...and I am indeed a real demon kid...the gen-u-ine article." He laughed merrily as he threaded his fingers together, tucking them under his chin and letting his elbows rest lightly on the desk. Benny met the nervous boy's gaze then, the bright shine of the slits in his eyes glinting red for just a moment. "Y'need my help hm? Well..luckily fer you kid, I happen t'be in the business o' helpin' people...So..tell me~" He gave a tilt of his head, his smile growing wider, almost...predatory. "What ken I do fer ya?"

He blinked a moment as the youth hurried around the desk to stand in front of him, his wings tucked close and hands clasped together in a begging motion. “P-please make me stronger! Make me stronger and scary so that I can go back to hell! O..Or just help me please! I need to become stronger!" Benny blinked a moment at the request giving a soft laugh. "Oh, you wanna be a stronger demon hm?" He looked to the helpless boy and shook his head slowly. "Sadly, even I can't do that in an instant kid...I'd give ya all th' power ya'd need but ya'd have ab-so-lutely no idea how t'use it." The little demon smiled lightly then, leaning back in his seat. "But...ya also don't get somethin' fer nothin’..." Benny tilted his head a moment, just watching him as he caught the sense of pure desperation wafting off of the boy, oh it honestly made him hungry.

The younger demon deflated visibly hearing that. Benny delighted in the sorrowful look in his eyes, the fledgling demon seeming to already believe that perhaps it was impossible to make him stronger. The look of disappointment only grew as he seemed to ponder on what Benny had said about a price, giving a slight purse of his lips before he spoke helplessly, "I...I don't have anything to give..." After a moment of letting the boy stew in his misery, Benny spoke up, "How about this....we can make a deal.." He grinned slightly, watching as the lad perked up a bit then, looking to him with cautious optimism, “A deal?” he asked tentatively, dual tail tips stirring the air behind him.

Benny gave a simple nod and a grin in reply,  "I help ya become stronga, teach ya how t’be a powerful demon an' use what I'm gonna give ya...and in exchange...you...work fer me." he said lightly, his fingers steepled, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair lightly. His tail flicked and curled around behind him as he watched this youth much like a feline would an injured mouse.

Unsurprisingly, the boy took the bait, his face lighting up like the fourth of July. Benny watched in amusement as the young demon’s hands found one of his own, holding it tightly. Black met white as their gaze’s locked, Benny easily reading the sheer desperation that dripped from the other as he spoke, his voice eager as he squeezed the hand he held captive. "I.. I'll work for you! I can do that! Just please help me become stronger!" His tail swayed and flicked behind him, the appendage unable to hold still with his excitement and a glimmer of hope that shone in his eyes. "I'll do anything to become stronger!"

At the exclamation, Benny arched a brow, a slight smirk on his face, "Anything eh? I like that kinda attitude kid...I think we're gonna get along just fine you an' me.." He smiled lightly and then gently withdrew his hand from the young demon’s hold. "Now...th' thing about deals is...ya gotta make 'em official like.." He hummed, easily slipping one of his gloves off as he glanced back up to the eager young demon. As he did so, there was a shine of red in the center of the little demon's palm, his mark. This was what allowed him to make his deals official, to brand the soul as his own so that when the time came, the Reapers would know who to look for. He hadn’t had to use it in so long honestly. The last person he had actively branded was Norman if his memory served.

Benny studied his mark a moment, the bright red of his pentacle shining up at him as he spoke, "So...you work fer me, however long I want, doin' whatever I want....and in exchange..I make ya inta a strong demon...sound about right?" He asked, his tail flicking gently behind him as he regarded the young demon with an even, almost gentle gaze his voice soft and rather unintimidating. He had to admit to some amusement when a soft curious noise pulled from the lad’s throat as he spotted the mark and gave a furious eager nod, holding his hand out eagerly. "Yes! Yes that's alright!" he said with the tone of one who...really didn’t understand just what he was getting into, one who was eager for the outcome and not caring for what came after.

A smirk quirked Benny’s lips as he chuckled, allowing a grin to creep onto his face, the points of his teeth showing as he regarded the eager youth. “Nothin' I love more than an eager student~ Then we have ourselves a deal kid." He hummed before he clasped the younger demon's hand in his own, in a firm shake. Since the kid was a demon himself and had such a strong bloodline running through him, the gesture didn't hurt as much as it would have a human or a lower ranking demon. As the ink pressed into the young demon’s flesh, Benny became aware of the other’s senses, of how such a thing felt. It was slightly warm, and wet, like he had placed his hand on a stamp of some sort, but then it itched, rather badly as the ink pressed its way down through the skin, searing the young demon’s soul with his brand and claiming it as his own. It was an unusual sensation, but nothing that bothered him too much.

He held fast for a long moment before he withdrew with a hum, lightly slipping from his chair. "Now...let's get th' first step outta th' way..." He mused, walking over to a small built in bar on the far wall of his office. The young demon was busy studying the new mark on his palm, his nose wrinkled uncomfortably as he rubbed at it with his fingertips to try and soothe the itching under the skin, glancing up in curiosity as Benny hopped up onto a small stool and grabbed a rocks glass from the shelves. Easily, he settled his fingers over the top of the glass, putting his palm over it and letting the bright red ink from his palm begin to drip into it. "You wanted power...well I'll give it to ya kid...just a little at first...see how ya do..but then...once you've got that under control...we'll step it up a bit more.." Benny said lightly as he studied just how much he let flow, stopping when the glass was just about an eighth of the way full.

Benny shifted the glass easily onto the table, pulling his glove back on a moment as the young demon studied the bright red liquid warily. Thanks to their new deal, Benny had a name to go along with the face of his newest student...Belzebub...how fitting with what else he learned about the boy. He was an open book honestly, allowing Benny to peek into his mind and see just about everything...why he had been so eager to make the deal. It was because of his father, who just so happened to be Benny’s favorite cohort..Lucifer. How amusing...it made this even better, the plan even more perfect~

“Is that...power? It..doesn’t look so tasty..” Belzebub said nervously, pale eyes flicking from the glass to Benny. “Hm, power comes at a price kid, not everythin’ can be easy y’see~” He lightly plucked the glass up and walked back over towards the young demon, pressing it lightly into his hands. “Y-yeah, I guessed as much…” Belzebub murmured as he took the glass, staring down at the bright red ink inside of it.

Benny moved back to his chair settling into it to watch the young demon with amusement in his eyes. "It ain't gonna taste th' best I warn ya..but..y'wanna be stronger? Then that..." he said with a point at the glass. "Is yer best bet..." He explained, Belze giving a slow nod of understanding as he seemed to steel himself for the next step. “A..Alright..here we go..” He murmured, lifting the glass to his lips. Benny watched him, leaning back and closing his eyes a moment as he continued to speak. “Now take yer time ya don't wanna-"

The sound of shattering glass cut him off and he blinked open his eyes to see Belze coughing and retching, his hands over his mouth before he hit his knees, doubling over in agony. He actually looked sort of cute, his eyes all wide and terrified with tears welling and slipping down his cheeks as he fought to keep the ink from coming back up. Benny watched the young prince's body tremble as it fought against the power that had been given to him and the little demon lightly used his tail to slide the wastebasket to him. "I was gonna say take it easy since it's very concentrated but..heh..ya beat me to it kid." Benny watched Belze with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

The young demon wasted no time in grabbing the wastebasket and vomiting up the red ink, his body violently rejecting the foreign power. Benny didn’t flinch or seem to really react to such a thing, aside from the amused smirk he wore as Belze withdrew from the basket with a weak groan, looking rather washed out and ill. “I’m...sorry I threw it up…” The prince whimpered lowly, small tears still lingering in his eyes. Benny smiled and shook his head as he reached into his glove and pulled out a black silk handkerchief. “Yer fine kid, s’meant to be taken in small doses, not all at once..” He explained as he reached for the other to clean him up.

He noticed right away how Belzebub screwed his eyes shut, his posture tense and the mark rang out with fear. He was scared, scared that Benny was going to hurt him...oh this was going to be easier than he thought. With a careful hand, he gently wiped the boy’s eyes and then his mouth, his tail flicking slowly around behind him as he worked. “I’m honestly impressed ya kept it down fer that long..” Benny laughed as he slowly pulled back, tipping Belze’s face up to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything. “There we go...that’s better…” he murmured, smirking faintly as the young demon stared up at him in fascination...perhaps even a tad of admiration as well before a cough broke the spell and Belze pulled back and pushed the wastebasket aside, trying to force himself to calmness again.

“Just take a breath for me kid, collect yerself...an’ lemme know when ya wanna try again.” Benny said with a small smile as he withdrew his hand from under Belze’s chin, disposing of the handkerchief in the wastebasket. “I want to try again!” Came the almost immediate reply, Benny turning his gaze back to the young demon who sat on his knees with a determined look on his face. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his new ward who looked all the world like an extremely excited puppy eager to learn a new trick. "Alright...just take a breath for me kid.." he chuckled as he patted Belze’s cheek. "I admire yer enthusiasm..but sometimes ya gotta slow down a lil bit." He smiled and leaned back lightly, carefully removing his glove again.

As he did so, he watched idly as Belzebub took a deep breath and sighed it out shakily, a small smirk curling Benny’s lips as he plucked easily at the ink that made up his den. It easily reached up and grasped the broken shards of the fallen glass and pulled them under, a ripple on the surface of the floor before again it was all still. There was a shift and a new glass reappeared on the shelf on the bar behind them. It was an easy feat for Benny, tricks he had learned over his many years.

After a moment, he reached out, gentle tips of his claws tipping Belze’s face up "There we go..nice an' calm...now...let's try again...an' remember..small sips kid. Yer body can't take all this in at once so.." he cupped his hand the red ink filling it from the mark. "Take it easy this time eh?" he teased, smiling as the young demon gave a small nod and lowered his gaze to watch the ink fill the other’s palm with a sort of nervous look. Benny knew that it tasted foul, so the boy was of course in no hurry to attempt to consume it again.

“A-alright…” Belzebub said with a nervous tremor in his voice as he stared down his fate, licking his lips slightly as he braced himself for it, glancing up at Benny for the go ahead. The older demon merely smiled and gave a soft nod, his voice low and soothing as he spoke. “Go ahead then kiddo, drink up.” He murmured, his free hand reaching out to gently brush some of the loose strands of the young demon’s hair back behind his ear. “Remember...slow an’ easy...we're in no rush here..we got all the time in the world." The little demon reassured him as he watched Belze steel himself for a second try at it. To drink of him was not something done lightly, the bright red ink was more than just that. It was his power, concentrated from the many demons he himself had cannibalized in a grab for power.

Carefully, Belze reached out for his hand, lowering it to the level of his face and staring at the small pool of red ink. Taking a soft breath, he leaned in and began to take slow careful sips as he had been instructed. "That's it kid, just like that. Slow an' easy." Benny all but cooed. The small demon watched him quietly, his tail flicking slightly as the younger demon pulled back with a shaky pant, his lips stained with that bright glowing ink. "There we go.." Benny hummed,  "Take a break kid...we don't have much more t'go now.." he said gently, looking down to the small bit that remained. "See s'not that bad right? Just gotta take yer time.." he chuckled a bit and looked down at him, just watching him as the ink sank into his body.

The young demon took another short breath and took the last few sips from his hand, swallowing them thickly and letting out a shaky exhale, some of the ink dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. “N...No it's not. I...It's a really uncomfortable feeling though…” He murmured, looking up at Benny with a slight crinkle of his nose and a grimace on his face. "I know..I know.." he purred, reaching out to cup the young demon's cheek and thumb away the smears of red from the corners of his mouth, gently brushing them over his lips instead, watching him with low dark eyes. "Just give it a moment...and it'll be over...close yer eyes fer a bit...rest. S'a big change yer goin' through...can't expect it t’happen all at once ya know?" He gently encouraged Belze to move forward letting his head rest against his leg.

The boy gave no resistance to the small movement, tiredly scooting forward to rest his head against Benny’s leg, his eyes drifting closed. Every bit of his body spoke of his exhaustion; his shoulders were drooped, along with his wings, his tail lay still and limp behind him on the floor. Benny smiled and lightly tugged his glove back into place before gently brushing a hand through the lad’s hair. “There we go...slow breaths...just relax...if ya fight against it...it takes longer.” He advised softly, smiling as Belze hummed and nodded softly. “I..I won’t fight then…” the young prince murmured tiredly, soothed by the careful stroking of warm fingers through his hair.

Benny observed how the boy soaked up the affection as eagerly as a thirsty plant did a drink of water. Honestly, he was amused about how easy this was going to be, how kind of Lucifer to lay out the path of his own son’s weakness so perfectly? He bit back a laugh as he reached over with his tail, fiddling with the radio. A quick twist of the dial and the sound of soft classical music filled the room where there had once been the bright sounds of swing.

"Take a nap kid, you'll feel better when ya wake up.." He said softly, continuing to pet through his hair, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting along the base of his horns as they stroked through. "M'proud of ya, most don't take it that well..heh, you shoulda heard Joey when he tried...screamin', yellin', makin' this huuuuge fuss...tch..but you took it like a champ. Just shows I was right...you got potential kid...and don't you worry...I'll make sure y'live up to it.." He said with a wide almost predatory grin then, his tail flicking and curling slowly as he continued to slowly pet along the fluffy strands of Belze's hair.

The young demon was unaware of the rather hungry smile that lingered on him as he rested, exhausted from this endeavor, worn down by the tainted power that burrowed and settled into him. Belzebub gave a slow tired nod against Benny’s leg before he spoke, his tail swaying sluggishly behind him, "I...I forgot...my name is...B..Belzebub...."

"I know kid...I know." Benny hummed softly, looking down at him watching as he shifted and drifted off to sleep. "I know all about ya...an' don't worry...I'm gonna take good care of ya.." The little demon's eyes glittered with delight, how lovely...he never thought he'd be one to get his claws on a bit of Lucifer's power...the might of the King of Hell right at his fingertips. Pulling at his powers, he shifted his form, allowing it to elongate and change, now much taller as he settled in his chair, still in the same outfit, though now he was much less of a cute little toon and more well built.

"Let's getcha somewhere a bit more comfortable.." He murmured, gently scooping the boy up without much effort and carrying him to one of the couches near the small fireplace. Gently he laid him down, brushing his hair slightly once more before draping him in a soft blanket pulled from seemingly nowhere. "There we go...sleep tight kid.." Benny hummed, strolling towards the back of his office, letting the larger form slip away almost like one would shed a coat, back into his usual small form. He looked out the window he had placed that allowed him to look over the inside of the studio. "Hmmm you were just what I needed kid....looks like dear ol' pop even answers a demon's prayers now an’ then.." he murmured with a fangy grin.

Things were falling into place now, how lovely.

[heartkook]

self-love program || kim taehyung

Kim Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a hard breakup, a boy you meet at the cinema gives you hope for the future.

Genre: fluff

Words: 1626

look at this fluffy boy I love him sm

I sat on my bed in a pile of empty sweet packets, my hair smelling as well as you might expect after three days of not washing it. Beginning to read an article about self-love on my laptop, and taking in the ideas of inner peace, self-indulgence and recovery, I considered the possibility that I might be doing something wrong.

I had suffered my first real heartbreak, having been broken up with after almost two years of a serious relationship, and was not taking it well. He had been everything to me, but he dropped me as if I meant nothing. My self-esteem had taken a hard hit, leading to me locking myself inside for days on end.

So, when my friend sent me the article after three weeks of wallowing, I decided to give it a read. Inspired by the idea of looking after myself, I got up and washed, cleaning my room to create the tidy room, tidy mind mentioned.

Do something for yourself – dine or see a film alone, was the next instruction, and with sudden determination, I got dressed headed to the cinema to see the first film on next.

As I bought the tickets, I suppose I knew deep down that what I was doing was just a way for me to prove to my friends, and myself, that I was not a complete mess. I wanted to believe I was getting better, even though the heavy melancholy and rejection filling me didn’t seem to be fading at all. The cruel ending of the relationship I had relied so heavily upon had taken my confidence from me, and I was left nervous, even walking into the screen by myself.

I walked uneasily down the aisle, searching in the dark for my seat number. I stood still on my row as I checked my ticket, my heart dropping as I realised there was someone sitting in my seat. I looked around, seeing the cinema was stuffed full of people. There was one seat free next to mine, but I assumed whoever was sitting there was saving it for someone joining them. Flustered, I shifted awkwardly on my feet, clutching my popcorn as I contemplated what to do.

Regain your self-confidence! Don’t let your ex bring you down! I remembered the article had said, and took a deep breath.

“Excuse me.” I whispered over the adverts playing on screen. The person turned to me, and I saw that it was a young, horrifyingly attractive man. He gave me a cheerful smile. “Um, sorry, but I think you’re in my seat.” I stuttered, cursing my newfound anxiety. A few weeks ago, I would have had no problem asking him to move.

His face immediately morphed into one of surprise and remorse, his eyes widening as he looked down at his ticket.

“Ah, I’m so sorry!” He grinned again, quickly standing up. I let out a breath in relief that he was nice about it, smiling at him as I moved to take his place. However, as he stood, looking around for another seat, I realised there were none apart from the one next to me. He noticed too, and looked back down at me with a big smile.

“Guess we’re seatmates.” He said, and took the seat next to me. “I’m Taehyung by the way.” I smiled back at him, his friendly manner settling my nerves.

“Y/N.” I replied, ready to just relax back into silence, before I grew curious. “You’re here alone?” I whispered inquisitively, looking over at him. He nodded, looking at the screen which was now showing trailers.

“I do it all the time.” I was surprised, and a sense of admiration washed over me. His confidence and surety was something I would have been able to relate to a while ago, but now seemed impossible to me.

“I like that.” I said, and he turned to me, grinning.

“So why are you here alone, Y/N?” He asked in a whisper, taking a drink and looking at me sideways. “You don’t seem very comfortable with the lone-cinema-lifestyle.” I shook my head, chuckling silently.

“I’m not. It’s a self-love exercise.” I told him, and his eyebrows raised.

“Good. Everyone needs a bit of self-love.” He said almost too quietly for me to hear.

“If I’m honest with you,” I started after a moment of silence as the actual film started playing, “I’m not entirely sure what film we’re seeing.” I grinned as he started laughing quietly.

“Me neither.” He said, laughing harder, and I began to chuckle, trying not to make too much noise.

We continued to talk quietly to each other throughout the film, our voices barely audible as we tried not to disturb other viewers. To hear each other we had to lean so close that I could feel his hair tickling my cheekbone and his breath on my face as he spoke. I found it so easy to talk to him, feeling my nerves dissipate and for once, my ex was completely forgotten about. Taehyung was ridiculously funny; almost everything he said had me laughing.

After repeated jokes and failures to keep our enjoyment quiet, it reached the point where we were both hysterical, my throat aching from when I had strained to keep my hard laughter silent.

At that point I could have found anything funny, so when I made a comment about the film, gestured in front of me and knocked my entire bucket of popcorn off my lap and onto the floor, scattering kernels everywhere, it was too much for me. I heard Taehyung make a sudden choking noise as he tried not to burst out laughing. My hand was clamped over my mouth as I laughed as quietly as possible, bowing forward and then falling back into the seat. Taehyung’s body was visibly shaking with laughter, his eyes creased into slits and his mouth open in a boxed shape.

The people next to us were giving us disapproving looks and someone in the row behind us shushed us. Something about not being allowed to laugh made everything even funnier, and tears came to my eyes as I gasped for air, trying to keep quiet. It wasn’t even that funny, but I just couldn’t stop giggling. I hadn’t laughed like that in months, years even.

Taehyung raised a hand in apology to the person behind us and tried to say sorry, but it came out as a sort of high pitched squeak, doubling both of us over once again. I let out an involuntarily snort, my hand immediately covering my nose and mouth as my eyes widened. Taehyung flailed his hands in front of him, bending over as he choked out laughter, and then stood up. He beckoned me from the aisle and together we made our way out of the screen into the lounge outside, stumbling in the dark.

As soon as we made it outside I couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped my mouth as I clutched my stomach. Taehyung leant against the wall, letting out all the laughs he had held in. We were in hysterics. My stomach and cheek muscles ached and I could barely catch my breath and it felt so good.

Eventually we both calmed down, red-faced and wheezing as I helped Taehyung off the wall and we began walking out of the building.

“Oh my god.” I sighed, grinning and placing my hands over my aching face. I couldn’t take the smile off my face. The icy outside air cooled down my hot cheeks and I turned to Taehyung who was also still smiling. He shook his head to shift his fringe and I got my first proper look at him in decent lighting. He really was breath taking. I realised I probably looked a complete mess compared to him, but couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Well… I should probably go home.” I started awkwardly after we had stood there for a moment and he nodded, his smile fading slightly.

“Yeah, well, good luck with the self-love program Y/N. I hope it goes well.” He said softly, and in a moment of sudden confidence and enlightenment, I realised I couldn’t just let this guy go. The differences between him and my ex jumped out at me, drawing me towards him. He was soft, relaxed, and optimistic, where I then realised my ex had been oppressive and cold. He made me happy in a way I don’t ever remember being, even if it was only for an hour or two.

“Actually, Taehyung, I think I might need you for it to go well.” I said thoughtfully, and his eyebrows shot up. I pulled out my phone, suddenly feeling very bold. “One of my instructions was to keep what makes you happy close to you, and well, I haven’t laughed like that in years.” I explained as I passed him the phone. “Seems like you’re pretty imperative to the program.”

His face stretched into a stunning smile, his large eyes wrinkling and his teeth showing as he obligingly typed in his number.

“Happy to be of service.”

I grinned practically the whole way home, new vigour in my step as I relived my time spent with Taehyung, and grew more and more excited for the date we had arranged for the next weekend.

For the first time since the break-up, my head was not filled with my ex and the anger, sadness and betrayal I felt towards him, but with Taehyung’s voice, laughter and reassurances. For the first time, I saw a future beyond my previous relationship. A future where I was confident, independent and content: how I used to be. And how I knew I would be again.

masterlist 

[heyheyhaydn]

An Adventure at Annecy

Tumblr extended edition

A few years ago, I had discovered the existence of the Annecy International Animated Film Festival in 2015 when some of my online friends had attended it. When they shared their experience on Facebook, I knew I had to go some day.

In finishing the second year of my animation course, I felt this would be the best time for me to visit, so I planned my journey, got advice on what to see and how to get around and made my way.

Annecy is a really nice city. The main building that the Festival was hosted at Théâtre Bonlieu is just across the road from the huge open air screening, the lake and a view across to the mountain range. I was stunned by how the mountains loomed in the distance everywhere I went and everyone just went about their business. Since Norwich doesn’t have a mountain range, I was just in awe of them everywhere I went. There are also a lot of colourful buildings with grand architecture, large comfy cinema theatres and startlingly blue water.

Having never been before, and being unaware of Annecy Festival traditions, I was surprised by the amount of paper planes being thrown while the cinemas filled up. It was a completely different experience to going to the cinema any other day, and was a hard time adjusting to when I returned to England and no one was throwing paper planes and the like.

The experience at Annecy was very informative, and helped develop my ideas on my practice, which is extremely useful as I enter into third year.

WHAT I LEARNT

NEW CREATIVE CONTEXTS: A shared talk with Jean-Baptiste Spieser of Teamto and Tom Box of Blue-Zoo about current and upcoming things in the industry. The Teamto talk was about the production pipeline and how it can change radically depending on productions. The Blue Zoo talk was also quite interesting as it explained how they built and overhauled their render farm, as well as how they collaborate creatively within their studio.

The Art of Visual Storytelling with WALT DISNEY ANIMATION STUDIOS: The two speakers were Nathan Engelhardt, an animation supervisor, and story artist Lissa Treiman (who had, coincidentally, illustrated the first few issues that got me hooked to the comic GIANT DAYS). This was a massively helpful talk, very much worth the wait. The two speakers talked about how to make good shots great, through the positioning of cameras to the two cores of 'greatness' in animation – truth and entertainment.

Triggerfish's MAKING REVOLTING RHYMES: Mike Buckland and Sarah Scrimgeour of Triggerfish discussed the creative process of collaborating on the production of the short film Revolting Rhymes, including compositing and rendering.

The Art and Science of RENDERMAN: Dylan Sisson of Pixar held a talk showing the developments and potential for their Renderman renderer. It opened my eyes to the scope of things that Renderman takes into consideration, such as a recent shot in a Pixar film that had over ten thousand individually rendered lights.

VIRTUAL REALITY is the future: Google Spotlight Stories had a VR station set up with new videos daily. I managed to catch the session on Thursday which presented a preview of SON OF JAGUAR (dir. Jorge Gutierrez) and ARDEN'S WAKE: PROLOGUE (dir. Eugene Chung, Jimmy Maidens). I had never understood the true potential of VR in animation until after watching these, so much so that after I'd watched them I wandered around Annecy in a daze. Arden's Wake was especially mind blowing, as you could actually walk into the setting and see it from all angles. This has made me want to experiment with VR in my own practice.

WHAT I WATCHED

THE PEANUTS MOVIE outdoor screening: Having seen this movie before in English, I was surprised at how easy to understand it was in French. The broad animation style of the movie definitely helped.

A SILENT VOICE: A rather touching story about communication, repentance and forgiveness. Quite interestingly featured sign language in animation, which to me feels like a perfect match of two things, visual language and visual storytelling.

DESPICABLE ME 3: This is the first world premiere I have ever been to, and the atmosphere was wonderful. This was without a doubt one of the most active audiences I have ever been in. Whenever a joke hit, there would be a wave of laughter and applause, when one of the characters did something cute, there was a collective 'awww', even the applause at the end of the film ended up slipping into the same beat as the music of the credits. It was wonderful.

CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS: I never read that many Captain Underpants books when I was younger, so I was pleasantly surprised with how funny this was. Much like The Peanuts Movie, it managed to capture the style of its source really well, whilst still giving it their own flair.

ZOMBILLENIUM: An adaptation of a French graphic novel. Before the film began, the crew were on stage and threw production caps into the audience. The film was very stylish, with bold colours and shapes for the characters and making the CG look 2D.

SHORTS: I caught several showings of graduation shorts and shorts in competition. I was amazed by the diversity of shorts on display, showing the talents from animators of all walk-cycles of life. Shorts that stood out to me were the following:

Wednesday with Goddard (dir. Nicolas Menard, Canadian/UK) – a humorous and existential journey as a man tries to find answers to whether or not God exists.

When Time Moves Faster (dir. Anna Vasof, Austria) – stop motion using objects like plates and curtains to animate sequences, showing each frame being set up in real time, then speeding up the footage to bring the sequence to life.

Double King (dir. Felix Colgrave, Australia) – there is something in seeing this on a big screen that makes it all that more fun.

Nachthexen (dir. Julie Herdichek Baltzer, Denmark) – documentary short about the Nachthexen of WW2, animated in the style of Soviet posters

The Burden (dir. Niki Lindroth Von Bahr, Sweden) – a musical stop motion based around anthropomorphic animals who are stuck in an anxious and existential space in their lives. Won this year's Cristal for a Short Film award

Aenigma (dir. Antonios Doussias and Aris Fatouros, Greek) – a surreal trip through a painter's landscape mind-bendingly presented in 3D

Tuhi rumm (dir. Ulo Pikkov, Estonia) – stop motion of a doll in a doll house-like setting, has a mix of a nostalgic and haunting feeling

Casino (dir. Steven Woloshen, Canada) – a musical, energetic drawn-on-film animation capturing the frenetic energy of a casino

After All – Michael Cusack (Australia) – a very poignant stop motion film about a man going through his recently-deceased mother's belongings and reliving memories he had, very heart-rendering but with the occasional splash of humour

TIPS FROM MY EXPERIENCE

Take care of yourself: In the height of summer in the south-east of France, Annecy is hot. But when you are standing, walking, waiting and surrounded by other people who are also hot, the heat becomes unbearable (so much so that my watch had condensation on it at several points). Drink lots of water, try to keep in the shade when waiting outside, remember to eat.

Learn key phrases in France: This is something I'm going to try and pick up should I go again. I used to know quite a bit of French, but having forgot most of it, struggled at points of my visit. A lot of the hosts are bilingual should you have any questions, but knowing the sound of general phrases and what they mean is helpful in a pinch.

Beat the crowd: The Festival's 'first come first seated' events will fill up fast, and the queues for the screening events might result in you not getting in if you don't book a place during ticketing. The 'first come first serve' events that I missed were with popular big names, such as a talk with Guillermo del Toro and another with the creators of The Amazing World of Gumball and Don't Hug Me I'm Scared, which I am still kicking myself over, so be sure to arrive early for those.

Patience is a virtue: The queueing process at Annecy is quite arduous, but the wait is always worth it. I got into the talk with Walt Disney Animation Studios by waiting two hours earlier. It pays off very much.

Be tactical: Annecy is a big festival in a big city. Events conflict and travel times might be longer than you expect if you are travelling by foot or if you need to retrace your steps. When it comes down to seeing a mainstream film or a studio focus talk, choose which one would be a more informative experience. This links in well with taking care of yourself too. If you haven't eaten or drank anything for a while and you are thinking of joining a queue for something that needs you to wait for an hour and a half in the sun, it's better to take care of yourself first and foremost.

If you can, go in a group: Not only will this be a 'strength in numbers' type deal, where you can book into the same events and wait together in the queue and tap out should you need to get food, but this experience is one to share if you are enthusiastic about animation and the like.

Don't be afraid to try: I hate plane travel. I knew very limited French. I have the worst sense of direction in the world at times. But I went to Annecy regardless of these things and actually had a brilliant time.

[iyarpage]

20 Best New Portfolios, February 2019

Welcome back, Readers! It’s February, and I don’t think I have a single pink or chocolate-themed site anywhere in the mix. Ah well…

I really shouldn’t have typed that. Now I want to either eat some peanut-butter and chocolate goodies, or base a design on that color scheme. I probably will.

Anyway, we’ve got a generally mixed bag of portfolios for you to check out, with a number of aggressively monochromatic designs in there. Enjoy!

Note: I’m judging these sites by how good they look to me. If they’re creative and original, or classic but really well-done, it’s all good to me. Sometimes, UX and accessibility suffer. For example, many of these sites depend on JavaScript to display their content at all; this is a Bad Idea, kids. If you find an idea you like and want to adapt to your own site, remember to implement it responsibly.

Rob Weychert

Rob Weychert’s portfolio may not be new as such, but I just found it… and probably should have found it sooner. He used to be a designer at Happy Cog, and is now at ProPublica, so you should expect earthy tones and fantastic typography. He sells his expertise mostly through his client list and his extensive blog, using the “go look at my work, it’s super famous” approach to marketing.

Well, it works.

Platform: Static Site (as far as I can tell)

Transatlantic Film Orchestra

The Transatlantic Film Orchestra do exactly what you think they do. Music for video. And on their website, they do it right: no music plays when you load the site. All you get is a calm, dark, and monochromatic one-page portfolio.

I do particularly like the implementation of the audio players, though. The Morse code, the grainy photos, it all works.

Platform: WordPress

Ramon Gilabert

Ramon Gilabert’s portfolio brings us a calming and classic minimalist design combined with some beautifully-used SVG graphics. Mind you, it’s a little confusing when you click on the “social” link in the navigation, as the social links are practically hidden at the bottom, on the right, and on their side. Otherwise, it’s a beautiful and charming design.

Platform: Static Site

Charlie Gray

Charlie gray’s portfolio is full of cinematic-looking photography and Hollywood celebrities, so this layout that feels like a cross between a magazine layout and a PowerPoint is actually right on the money. I’d almost be disappointed if a site like this wasn’t loaded down with a bit too much JS.

In the end, it’s the images that sell everything anyway.

Platform: WordPress

Jordy van den Nieuwendijk

This portfolio is pretty much an art gallery, and it embraces the theme with a full-screen slideshow on the home page, lots of white space, and monospaced type. It’s a classic approach and it hold up well in this case.

Platform: Static Site

Atelier Florian Markl

Atelier Florian Markl has taken the inherent “blockiness” of web design and absolutely run with it. The theme of the day is rectangles and bold colors. You might have a hard time seeing anything, but once your eyes adjust to the glare, you won’t forget this highly modernist design in a hurry.

Platform: Joomla

Nathan Mudaliar

Nathan Mudaliar’s copywriting portfolio may not be the fanciest out there, but it is a master class in showcasing your work creatively. There’s a sort of conversational bit of UI where he showcases his work in different “voices”, interactive examples of his copywriting techniques, and more.

It’s a bit hard sell, perhaps, but you can’t argue with results.

Platform: Static site

WebinWord

WebinWord know how to to stick to a theme. This minimal-ish but highly animated site manages to use the shape of their logo mark all over just about every page. And weirdly enough, it works.

Platform: WordPress

Okalpha

Okalpha goes right for bright colors and pseudo-3D graphics to catch your attention. Honestly, they’re using the same colors and shapes people have been using on us since we were toddlers, so why wouldn’t it work? Slightly kid-ish or not, I think it works.

Platform: Custom CMS (Probably)

Makoto Hirao

Makoto Hirao’s portfolio is ticking a lot of boxes for me, including great type, good use of imagery, and a horizontal home page layout that I actually really like, and that feels intuitive.

My only real criticism would the the usual one about JS dependence.

Platform: Custom CMS

Lydia Amaruch

Lydia Amaruch brings us a beautiful grid-themed portfolio (I am, as always, a sucker for this look) combined with some fantastic illustrations, and decidedly modernist layout. Some bits are weirdly low-contrast, but it’s a darned pretty site overall.

Platform: Static Site

The Sweetshop

The Sweetshop, being a video production company, naturally puts a lot of video front and center with the dark layout you’d expect. But even so, their typography game is surprisingly strong, and there’s not a serif in sight. Even their press releases look pretty.

Platform: WordPress

Noughts & Ones

Noughts and Ones is another agency that’s sticking to their theme, with their branding being a big part of their site’s aesthetic. Other than that, it’s pretty classic minimalism. I personally adore their footer.

Is that a weird thing to say?

Platform: Squarespace

Margaux Leroy

If I had to describe Margaux Leryo’s portfolio—and I do, that’s my job—I’d call it a fusion of ‘90s era futurist design with more modern trends. It’s dark, it’s sleek, and some of the text might be a little too small and low-contrast.

Why did we think text would be that small in the future anyway? Did we think everyone would have augmented eyes?

Anyway, flaws aside, it looks fantastic.

Platform: Static Site (as far as I know)

Julia Kostreva

Julia Kostreva’s portfolio keeps it simple with some pseudo-asymmetry and soft tones. As a branding designer, she lets that branding work do, well, most of the work. And it works.

Platform: Squarespace

Baibakov Art Projects

Baibakov Art Projects takes the monochromatic to another level, and the animations are only sometimes in the way. It’s tall, dark, and elegant, like the work it features. Fantastic use of asymmetry, too.

Platform: Static Site

Kolaps

Kolaps has a decidedly modernist design that feels at once very “business-friendly” and quite eye-catching. It’s classic minimalism come back again with a touch of sci-fi futurism and particle effects.

Platform: Custom CMS (I think)

Betty Montarou

Betty Montarou’s portfolio is kept dead simple with a sort of “click to collage” method of showing off her work. It keeps the whole experience down to about two pages, and only shows off the very best of what she does.

Platform: Static Site

Jordan Sowers

Jordan Sower’s portfolio is another artsy one that sort of mimics the art gallery aesthetic a little. Still, it’s pretty. It’s interesting in that it functions as a portfolio and a store at the same time, but the store is kept almost hidden unless you actually click a link to buy something. It’s a store without the hard sell, and so it’s free to be artistic in its own right.

Platform: Static Site

Heller

And finishing off our list we have another monochromatic design with Heller. It’s modern, it’s pretty, and it has an interesting approach to the collage patterns we see everywhere. This one is definitely going for a futurist feel, even as it’s grounded in the trends of yester-month.

I like the horizontal swipe-in animation they use for images. I mean, if you’re going to animate everything, why not give it that Star WarsTM feel?

Platform: Static Site

Add Realistic Chalk and Sketch Lettering Effects with Sketch’it – only $5!

Source p img {display:inline-block; margin-right:10px;} .alignleft {float:left;} p.showcase {clear:both;} body#browserfriendly p, body#podcast p, div#emailbody p{margin:0;} 20 Best New Portfolios, February 2019 published first on https://medium.com/@koresol

[webbygraphic001]

20 Best New Portfolios, February 2019

Welcome back, Readers! It’s February, and I don’t think I have a single pink or chocolate-themed site anywhere in the mix. Ah well…

I really shouldn’t have typed that. Now I want to either eat some peanut-butter and chocolate goodies, or base a design on that color scheme. I probably will.

Anyway, we’ve got a generally mixed bag of portfolios for you to check out, with a number of aggressively monochromatic designs in there. Enjoy!

Note: I’m judging these sites by how good they look to me. If they’re creative and original, or classic but really well-done, it’s all good to me. Sometimes, UX and accessibility suffer. For example, many of these sites depend on JavaScript to display their content at all; this is a Bad Idea, kids. If you find an idea you like and want to adapt to your own site, remember to implement it responsibly.

Rob Weychert

Rob Weychert’s portfolio may not be new as such, but I just found it… and probably should have found it sooner. He used to be a designer at Happy Cog, and is now at ProPublica, so you should expect earthy tones and fantastic typography. He sells his expertise mostly through his client list and his extensive blog, using the “go look at my work, it’s super famous” approach to marketing.

Well, it works.

Platform: Static Site (as far as I can tell)

Transatlantic Film Orchestra

The Transatlantic Film Orchestra do exactly what you think they do. Music for video. And on their website, they do it right: no music plays when you load the site. All you get is a calm, dark, and monochromatic one-page portfolio.

I do particularly like the implementation of the audio players, though. The Morse code, the grainy photos, it all works.

Platform: WordPress

Ramon Gilabert

Ramon Gilabert’s portfolio brings us a calming and classic minimalist design combined with some beautifully-used SVG graphics. Mind you, it’s a little confusing when you click on the “social” link in the navigation, as the social links are practically hidden at the bottom, on the right, and on their side. Otherwise, it’s a beautiful and charming design.

Platform: Static Site

Charlie Gray

Charlie gray’s portfolio is full of cinematic-looking photography and Hollywood celebrities, so this layout that feels like a cross between a magazine layout and a PowerPoint is actually right on the money. I’d almost be disappointed if a site like this wasn’t loaded down with a bit too much JS.

In the end, it’s the images that sell everything anyway.

Platform: WordPress

Jordy van den Nieuwendijk

This portfolio is pretty much an art gallery, and it embraces the theme with a full-screen slideshow on the home page, lots of white space, and monospaced type. It’s a classic approach and it hold up well in this case.

Platform: Static Site

Atelier Florian Markl

Atelier Florian Markl has taken the inherent “blockiness” of web design and absolutely run with it. The theme of the day is rectangles and bold colors. You might have a hard time seeing anything, but once your eyes adjust to the glare, you won’t forget this highly modernist design in a hurry.

Platform: Joomla

Nathan Mudaliar

Nathan Mudaliar’s copywriting portfolio may not be the fanciest out there, but it is a master class in showcasing your work creatively. There’s a sort of conversational bit of UI where he showcases his work in different “voices”, interactive examples of his copywriting techniques, and more.

It’s a bit hard sell, perhaps, but you can’t argue with results.

Platform: Static site

WebinWord

WebinWord know how to to stick to a theme. This minimal-ish but highly animated site manages to use the shape of their logo mark all over just about every page. And weirdly enough, it works.

Platform: WordPress

Okalpha

Okalpha goes right for bright colors and pseudo-3D graphics to catch your attention. Honestly, they’re using the same colors and shapes people have been using on us since we were toddlers, so why wouldn’t it work? Slightly kid-ish or not, I think it works.

Platform: Custom CMS (Probably)

Makoto Hirao

Makoto Hirao’s portfolio is ticking a lot of boxes for me, including great type, good use of imagery, and a horizontal home page layout that I actually really like, and that feels intuitive.

My only real criticism would the the usual one about JS dependence.

Platform: Custom CMS

Lydia Amaruch

Lydia Amaruch brings us a beautiful grid-themed portfolio (I am, as always, a sucker for this look) combined with some fantastic illustrations, and decidedly modernist layout. Some bits are weirdly low-contrast, but it’s a darned pretty site overall.

Platform: Static Site

The Sweetshop

The Sweetshop, being a video production company, naturally puts a lot of video front and center with the dark layout you’d expect. But even so, their typography game is surprisingly strong, and there’s not a serif in sight. Even their press releases look pretty.

Platform: WordPress

Noughts & Ones

Noughts and Ones is another agency that’s sticking to their theme, with their branding being a big part of their site’s aesthetic. Other than that, it’s pretty classic minimalism. I personally adore their footer.

Is that a weird thing to say?

Platform: Squarespace

Margaux Leroy

If I had to describe Margaux Leryo’s portfolio—and I do, that’s my job—I’d call it a fusion of ‘90s era futurist design with more modern trends. It’s dark, it’s sleek, and some of the text might be a little too small and low-contrast.

Why did we think text would be that small in the future anyway? Did we think everyone would have augmented eyes?

Anyway, flaws aside, it looks fantastic.

Platform: Static Site (as far as I know)

Julia Kostreva

Julia Kostreva’s portfolio keeps it simple with some pseudo-asymmetry and soft tones. As a branding designer, she lets that branding work do, well, most of the work. And it works.

Platform: Squarespace

Baibakov Art Projects

Baibakov Art Projects takes the monochromatic to another level, and the animations are only sometimes in the way. It’s tall, dark, and elegant, like the work it features. Fantastic use of asymmetry, too.

Platform: Static Site

Kolaps

Kolaps has a decidedly modernist design that feels at once very “business-friendly” and quite eye-catching. It’s classic minimalism come back again with a touch of sci-fi futurism and particle effects.

Platform: Custom CMS (I think)

Betty Montarou

Betty Montarou’s portfolio is kept dead simple with a sort of “click to collage” method of showing off her work. It keeps the whole experience down to about two pages, and only shows off the very best of what she does.

Platform: Static Site

Jordan Sowers

Jordan Sower’s portfolio is another artsy one that sort of mimics the art gallery aesthetic a little. Still, it’s pretty. It’s interesting in that it functions as a portfolio and a store at the same time, but the store is kept almost hidden unless you actually click a link to buy something. It’s a store without the hard sell, and so it’s free to be artistic in its own right.

Platform: Static Site

Heller

And finishing off our list we have another monochromatic design with Heller. It’s modern, it’s pretty, and it has an interesting approach to the collage patterns we see everywhere. This one is definitely going for a futurist feel, even as it’s grounded in the trends of yester-month.

I like the horizontal swipe-in animation they use for images. I mean, if you’re going to animate everything, why not give it that Star WarsTM feel?

Platform: Static Site

Add Realistic Chalk and Sketch Lettering Effects with Sketch’it – only $5!

Source from Webdesigner Depot http://bit.ly/2DwbepX from Blogger http://bit.ly/2UWIfmh

[vitalmindandbody]

Love through a lens: how Ingrid Bergman took the world’s breath away

From marriage scandals to on-screen magnetism, a documentary about Ingrid Bergman salutes an actor who systematically eluded expectations

Nearly 20 years ago, I went to stay with my husband in a house owned by the family of Roberto Rossellini, the great neorealist Italian film director. We spent our epoches as you do when you find yourself in an idyllic hideout in the Italian sunshine: say; lying by the reserve; watching the ignite through the trees. And I thought about Ingrid Bergman, who must have visited this secluded villa at a time when her life was in free fall.

Its hard now to envisage the kind of scandal Bergman stimulated when she became pregnant with Rossellinis child, while still married to her first spouse Petter Lindstrm. She wasnt precisely a partner, she was a father, and had left her daughter Pia behind when she went off to Italy to work with Rossellini. The resentment was scalding. Bergman news jolts Hollywood like an A Bomb bellowed one newspaper headline, neatly compounding two of the most important news item of 1949.

In the US, religion groups inaugurated a campaign to prohibit her movies on the grounds that they glorified adultery. In Italy, she and Rossellini were followed everywhere by paparazzi, their friends for the rest of their stormy life together.

I was a danger for American femininity, she told an interviewer, year later. Even my voice over the radio was supposed to be dangerous. Of route I was hurt, but I didnt think that what I had done was so much other peoples business … If you dont like the implementation of its, you can walk out, but to criticise families private life, I thought was wrong.

That defiant statement of intent is quoted in Ingrid Bergman: In Her Own Words , a new documentary film directed against Stig Bjrkman that tells the story of one of Hollywoods most enduring hotshots. It sucks on her diaries, characters and interrogations, interspersed with residence movies, and glimpses of the actor in all her screen magnificence, from her Swedish entry in 1935 to her Hollywood heyday in the 1940 s to her final capacities practically 40 years later. It is a uncovering insight into the status of women who consistently defied expectations.

Watch government officials trailer for Ingrid Bergman: In Her Own Words

In her first American screen research, in bleached-out emblazon and stillnes, with no makeup as the clapper card proclaims, she gleams. It is as if she is in wealth of trade secrets and that knowledge illuminates her from within, as she gazes instantly at the camera, or smiles with a warmth who are able to thaw a Swedish winter. Its a signaling of all that is to come. If you think of Bergman on screen, in Casablanca , Notorious or Gaslight , it is that radiance that first comes to mind.

In part this was a simple matter of her grace. Daniel Selznick, son of the potent David O who first cleaned Bergman away to Hollywood, informed her biographer Charlotte Chandler: There is no one I have ever assembled, of any age, of any generation, that took ones breath away at every convene the behavior she did. The hue, the cheeks, the buttock, the ears, the snout, the eyes, their own bodies of a goddess. And she was just wholly unselfconscious. Gregory Peck, her co-star in Hitchocks Spellbound , suggested that she was even more beautiful away from the studio cameras a judgment vindicated by the dwelling movie footage that demonstrates her relaxed with family and friends.

But there is some other mysterious coerce at work. From the very first, she was confident in front of a camera, “and its” Pia Lindstrm the daughter she vacated when she ran off with Rossellini who offers a psychological reason for her mothers dazzling impact on screen. Bergmans mother had died when she was two, so she used brought up by her parent, a photographer, whom she adored, until he very died when she was 13.

Love would come right through that lens, proposes Lindstrm. She was looking through that lens and she is looking at her dear dead leader, and she would flirt and play with him and constitute with him. She was completely cozy with the camera and knew how to pose.

Bergman herself was aware of her endowment. She was a poverty-stricken little orphan girlfriend, lonely and bereft, yet filming constructed her feeling alive. Theres a photograph of her going to her first ever task as an additional that is notable is not simply for her astounding loveliness, but for the sheer sparkle of her pose as she peers along the line of waiting wannabe, ogling outwards and forwards. I desire the freedom of the media I experience in front of the camera, she said.

Photograph: Soda Pictures

But she was a dab hand behind a camera, extremely, inheriting from her parent a desire to record the world and the person or persons around her. She filmed her honeymoon with Petter, and when she left him abruptly she wrote pronouncing she didnt crave many of the riches she had left behind. The only question will be our 16 mm film. Maybe you are able to lend it to me so I can see what I looked like in my youth.

That desire to preserve each aspect of her life in photographs and footage has left Bjrkman a fortune of substance on which to draw; in this private footage you determine her fallen in love with Rossellini, stroking his head tenderly as they speak; you watch the three children they had together grow up; you learn their horror as their parents marriage falls apart. Later, you watch the sadness cross Bergmans face as she clambers into an ambulance when her daughter Isabella is diagnosed with scoliosis.

But just as uncovering are the words and journals that Bergman also continued, rich in self-knowledge and the honest struggle of the contradictions in her character. Writing to a pal, when she is enjoying the first even of success in her Hollywood career, she describes her panic at not working for 4 months which is two months too long. She is at home with Petter and Pia, but profess: Merely half of me is alive. The other half is packed away in a suitcase suffocating. What should I do?

She has an affair with Robert Capa, the crusade photographer, and her free spirit soars. She tries to be a good wife and to knit at home, but the siren call of something different propels her onwards. With Rossellini, it is his wield she falls in love with first; she admires Rome, Open City and writes him a bold proposal. If “youve been” need a Swedish actor who expresses very good English and a bit German, who can stimulate herself understood in French and is simply say ti amo in Italian, then Ill come and make a cinema with you.

Years later she shows his appeal more fully. It was a combination of passion that I fell in love with a guy who was so different from any other man I had ever known, and it was my apathy in Hollywood I wanted to do something that they didnt expect me to do. When her relationship with Rossellini broke down, and she began to think about returning to Hollywood, she was still had decided to do the kind of movies I detect comfy with. Success mattered immensely to Bergman, but not at any price.

At the same time, as the movie made very clear, though her children mattered to her intensely, she was prepared to leave them to seek her profession. Her priorities were not those expected. If you took behaving away from me I would stop breathing, she remarked. She acknowledged she had missed a lot, by leaving not just one child but her second situate of children to be brought up principally by others. I do regret it, but I dont believe that they tolerated, she said.

That complexity the authentic expression of a woman who knew her own fallibility, of someone who loved and lost but never complained moves Bergman, who died of cancer, aged 67, in 1982, a peculiarly admirable Hollywood star. She was a pioneer before her hour; protected and constrained by her loveliness, she voyaged ever onwards, brave and strong.

There is a rose reputation after her, which I have in my garden. It is deep red, lightly perfumed and nearly too perfect in shape and formation. It blooms for a very long time, remaining long after other flowers molted their petals. There could not get a better tribute to an actor who is always worth remembering.

Ingrid Bergman: In Her Own Words is at the BFI Southbank, London SE1, from 12 August and then at selected cinemas. At the BFI, the cinema will be accompanied by a mini season, Ingrid Bergman on Screen . bfi.org.uk

Read more: www.theguardian.com

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