#and it's also a second draft

[taste-in-music]

Ambivalent and bad, ha ha Passive suicidal still I hit em with the cha cha

natasha lyonne's cigarette (redux)

[apple-cores]

its not enough. i gotta dissect froggy on a cold metal table until i figure out why i still dont like how i draw him yet

THIS though, no notes

[somegrumpynerd]

Truce is going well

[limerlove]

farmhand!abby who is a sweet girlfriend, loves you more than life itself, treats as you such. wines and dines you, makes sure you’re taken care at any and all times. delicate, kind words of affirmation, the time she sets aside for you even when the muscles in her body from being overworked as a farmhand ache. abby pays attention to the small little trinkets you have your eye on would be wrapped up by the next week, waiting for your expectant eyes to light up, sending her heart into overdrive.

farmhand!abby who loves to give, she’s always been a giver. she loves seing her lover squirm, hips bucking, and curses leave your lips each time she teases. abby never quite takes it easy on you even so. she loves eating pussy like it’s her fucking job. those broad shoulders wedged between your thighs and strong, calloused hands pining your stomach as your hips attempt to buck into her mouth. you’re whimpering, whining for more like a brat. well…most of the time, but tonight you chose to be quiet. a little game of cat and mouse. you do it for the outcome. smirking at abby, the overachiever. even if you’re soaking through the cotton sheets, she needs you to be loud. this simply will not fucking do.

she makes a mess of you, spitting sloppily along your swollen lips, slapping your clit as she pinched her clit between her fingertips. “you sure you’re stuck on being quiet sweetheart? m’not sure you have it in you.” abby slaps your cunt again, “to defy me.”

you whimper moan out her name, more like cursing it, but to her it’s all the same. “see? knew you couldn’t last long.” she slaps your weeping cunt with another hit, jolting your body up on her bed.

she’s musky, smells like a hard earned day, but you want to inhale every scent she has to offer. blonde, baby hairs sticking to her face as she pushes your thighs up, knees nearly hitting the headboard. she cups your pussy, thumb circling a hole that’s never quite been explored by her or anyone for that matter.

“a-abs, shit, we’ve only talking about this once.” abby pauses, inquiring a soft question. “do you not want to?” you nod, a delicate yes comes out when she spits on your cunt. again.

“now, be my sweet baby and let me stretch this pretty ass of yours, yeah? how’s that sound?”

taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @r3starttt

wanna be tagged?

[zivazivc]

a while back I had a realization about Chaz's color palette...

they're not related but that doesn't mean they didn't take advantage of their likeness in the lewdest, most shameless way possible. chaz is a veteran and floyd is naturally photogenic (+ was a junkie who couldn't resist easy money). if you know what i'm talking about, you know what i'm talking about and i won't judge you for throwing rocks at me ksjfhksjhfkjsd

[stark-lord]

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES (2024)

1.05 - The Case of the Two Dead Dragons

Or,

Edwin. I saw that.

[galactic-rhea]

I was thinking back of some of the concept art for Encanto I always loved and... Long rambling ahead.

YUP! I remain obssesed wiwth it, especially the first one, the black butterflies!! In many latinoamerican countries (including mine) black butterflies in a home are a bad omen, to the point there's people absolutely scared of them (I have met a few, personaly); so the incorporation to it not only gives such a creepy image, but is an awesome call back to the culture.

The one where is raining on Mirabel's side of the house is also a perfect example of Magical Realism; the author whose work was first referred to as magical realism (in literature) had a short story called The Rain, in the story, the rain represents love, it doesn't really have much to do with the story in Encanto or the concept art on itself, just something that I remembered.

In Hundred years of Solitude, it rains for four years and the rain starts eating away the Buendías's house and destroying their fortune, and the decline of the house is what start of the town's decline as they're linked to the family.

I always said that Encanto was like a super sanitized and family friendly version of Hundred years of Solitude, and honestly I can see that a lot in the concept art, much more easily than in the movie

And to me, the biggest expression of Magical Realism in the concept art, is this one:

the mundane mixing with the nonsensical and magic, but the being accepted as part of the natural world without further questioning. And here's more of this on other of the concept art:

Magical realism as a term started being referred to art styles that depict something that objetively normal, has an uncanny element and often somewhat satirical. However, as a genre in literature, it started in Latin America, inspired by surrealism.

Is not just magic, is magic within a mundane world and being accepted as part of their lives. Latinoamerican literature tends to be fatallistic and crude; and magical realism follows similar steps, because the fantasy element isn't taken as something grandiose and something capable of solving every problem; the contrary, it just becomes something that just happens, and life goes on, and this usually means tragedy and death as well.

The magic isn't the cause, nor the solution, not even helpful because these stories kept on being harsh and sometimes cruel, in a sense Magical Realism reminds me more of Gothic Horror than Fantasy. Thousands years of solitude has these magic, fantastic elements, but it keeps on being a tale of the cyclical misery of the Buendías, that doesn't end until their entire destruction along with Macondo.

The Buendías aren't even meant to be liked (as in, good people), because they're supposed to be a selfish self-obssesed, land owners and the elite group that ruins the lives of others and keep digging their own graves.

For another example, the story that i mentioned, The Rain not only has a social commentary, but it ends in a very bitter sweet note, with a couple finally seeing the rain after a drought, but losing the kid that magically rekindled their love for each other. A lot of latinoamerican literature ends with painfully bittersweet, if not outright hopeless endings (Chronicle of a Death Foretold literally tells you, just with the title, what you will get into. Is a very cruel story and it has zero closure, the original "Dead dove do not eat/I don't know what i was expecting". Another example, Dead Houses is...well, is a bit more hopeful, but the cruelty is there and right on the face.)

Neither of these things fit very well for a disney family friendly movie, but just the fact they dared to show us Pedro's death and it being the origin of Encanto is a good enough attempt.

And a lot of these concept art does give a very dark tone, visually. I can see the attempt at trying to mix the whimsical of usual disney movies and the crudeness of the genre it takes its inspiration.

Another little bits that make me think of Encanto and Hundred Years of Solicitude, is that something important in the novel's narrative, is that Macondo is kinda trapped in time, both because of how remote the town is, but also because of the magic element; the huge impact of the town when outsiders and new technology arrives sometimes is taken as another magic element (they see ice, and believe it must be magic). Encanto has a similar setting, the exact time is taking place is hard to determine and there's some anacronisms. And also, the soap opera that Bruno's rats are "playing" is literally a nod to two characters in TYS; Amaranta Úrsula and Aureliano.

In the final version of the movie, some of these vibes the concept art shows was lost, but at its core it retains the key elements of magical realism! However, sometimes I wonder what would have someone like Guillermo del Toro done with the basic plot of Encanto, I have the strong suspicion that we would have ended with something much, much closer to actual magical realism

Ending this with, idk, watch Encanto. Or even better, read some latinoamerican literature (besides Gabriel García Márquez, whom I have a beef with. Can I suggest Julio Córtazar, Pilar Romero, Isabel Allende, Liliana Bodoc, Angelica Gorodischer, Juan Rulfo, Miguel Otero Silva, and Horacio Quiroga?)

[seochangbingifs]

ATE (2024) 13/∞: Changbin and Jisung in SKZ-TALKER Ep.65

[stephaniebrownthespoiler]

I don't understand how people think anyone other than Cass should be the next Batman. Like who else will it be? Dick? Tim? they would literally rather kill themselves

[lifemod17]

🎥: adventuresofvictoria | tiktok

The Cosmopolitan, Las Vegas || 11/03/2023

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I love how you can tell that he's smiling when he says the last part. 💕

[deoidesign]

One of my first digital pieces (2010) versus one of my recent ones (2024)

We all start somewhere!

[cementcornfield]

Ja'Marr talks about Joe "screaming" at him in college for wearing warming lotion 🔥

[yahamitsu]

the slow, threatening walk specifically to larry...

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”