#coa era

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump day 11 - fever

Starting febuwhump in the middle of the month with my Links from my own au Courage of Ages, because I looked at the list and basically gave into temptation 😅

I’m going to try and keep these short so i don’t get stressed, just fun oneshots and an excuse to write my Links more :)

Here’s an explanation of courage of ages, as well as who’s who, but in this fic only four of them show up. Gloam is tp Link, Hue is albw & tfh, Era is hw, and Sprite is oot & mm.

————————————————————

“Gloam?”

The Hero of Twilight blinked his eyes open, looking up at who’d addressed him. Hue stood next to the tree that he’d been dozing against up until a few seconds ago, looking like he felt extremely bad for disturbing him.

“Hey Hue, what’s up? You need something?” he yawned, and the younger hero shifted his weight nervously, and scratched the back of his neck.

“Era isn’t awake.”

Gloam tilted his head. “And..? Is that a problem? I mean, we weren’t going to head out until tomorrow morning anyways, he may as well take a nap.”

“No, I mean he hasn’t woken up all day,” Hue stressed. “I was going to tell you earlier but I couldn’t find you or anybody else, so I figured I’d just wait, but now...”

Hue glanced behind him at the inn in the distance where they were all staying.

“He’s barely moved. He was making weird noises before too, I’m... I’m kinda worried Gloam.”

The goatherd furrowed his brow and stood up, forgoing his comfortable spot against the tree to instead follow Hue back inside to where Era had apparently been sleeping all day.

If it were almost any one of the others Gloam would brush it off as them just taking a nap, but Era was one of the Links in their group who barely slept under normal circumstances.

Maybe he was just really tired?

They entered one of the rooms several of them were sharing, Gloam noting the lump on one of the beds. Drawing closer with Hue on his heels, Gloam saw Era tightly curled up under the sheets, already odd since he tended to sleep ramrod-straight on his back. His blanket was tight around his shoulders, breath wheezing in his throat, and when Gloam leaned closer he could see his face was flushed.

Wait...

Gloam leaned down and pressed a hand to Era’s forehead, then winced at the heat under his palm.

“Darn it, he’s got a fever,” he muttered, and at his touch, Era’s eyes flicked open.

He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and hair limp with sweat. He was always so put together, Gloam had to admit it was weird seeing him this... disheveled.

“We moving again?” the knight rasped, and made to sit up, arms trembling. Hue pushed him back down, and shook his head.

“No way, you’re sick Era. We’re not moving anytime soon.”

Era’s face paled.

“Sick? No. No way, I’m not sick I can’t be sick—” he said thickly, panic leeching into his voice.

“Era calm down, you’ve just got a bit of a fever,” Gloam soothed, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “You only need some rest, you’ll be fine.”

Era swallowed, and Gloam could see him mentally push the panic down.

“But... we need to get going tomorrow,” he protested with a cough. “This was only supposed to be a quick stop, and then—”

“We can spare a day or two,” Gloam interrupted. “We switched pretty recently, I doubt we’ll leave this time for a little while yet. And you can’t go anywhere in this condition.“

Era looked like he was about to argue, but instead sneezed several times in a row, each one getting progressively louder.

Hue muffled a giggle at the surprisingly high-pitched sneezes, then shrank back at the look Era gave him.

“Umm, I’ll go get some soup I saved from the other night,” he said, then quickly escaped out the door. Gloam watched him go with an amused smile, then pulled a chair to Era’s bedside, sitting down as he looked down at the other hero.

The knight’s eyes were half-lidded and weary, but he made an effort to look more awake once he realized Gloam’s gaze was on him.

“I really am all right,” he rasped, and Gloam shook his head, sighing.

“No, you really aren’t,” he countered. “Hue said you’ve been sleeping all day.”

“So?”

Gloam eyeballed him. “You are always up at the crack of dawn, same as me. The only reason I didn’t notice you sleeping in earlier was because I was preoccupied,” he said a bit guiltily, then resumed his stern look. “You. Are. Sick.”

Era shrank in his blanket, looking away from Gloam.

“But I’m holding us up,” he rasped quietly. “We were going to try to make it to the castle, we might not have time if we w-wait—”

Era broke off into a stream of thick coughs, raspy and painful sounding. He groaned when he finished, and Gloam handed him some water, the knight weakly sipping at it. Once he’d finished, Gloam put his hand back on his forehead, trying to get a sense of just how bad his fever was. Era flinched, but relaxed after a minute, eyes drooping.

“I think your fever could be worse, but I don’t know how long you’ve had it either,” Gloam murmured, then pulled his hand away with a sigh. “Either way... it’s certainly not the greatest. We can see if this town has a healer, but in the meantime try and get more sleep?”

“Slept all morning,” Era mumbled. “Don’t need more.”

“You’re practically dozing off Era,” Gloam said dryly. “Just go back to sleep. Or I’ll get everyone in here and they can yell at you too.”

Era winced. “...don’t do that.”

The door creaked as he finished speaking, and Gloam turned, expecting to see Hue. But Sprite walked in instead, looking a little out of breath, like he’d run all the way here then stopped right at the door in an effort to seem nonchalant.

“Hue said you’re sick,” he blurted out, then crossed his arms and gave Era a foul look. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“You think I know?” Era croaked, and Gloam watched the worry in Sprite’s eyes grow more prominent at how weak his voice was.

The kid hesitated, then stalked over and jumped up on the bed next to him, ignoring Era’s immediate protests.

“Kid I’m going to get you sick, get off,” Era said sharply, but Sprite only crossed his arms behind his head and laid down.

“You shared your canteen with me yesterday, I’m probably already doomed,” he snipped back. “And I heard you and Gloam arguing, just go back to sleep, huh? It’s going to take you forever to get better if you don’t rest.”

“This from the kid who sleeps like two hours every night,” Era said with an eye roll, and Sprite elbowed him.

“Just go to sleep!”

Era still looked reluctant, and Sprite sighed, then creamed the knight with a pillow he’d grabbed without an ounce of apology. Era let out a affronted hey! and Sprite glared at him, holding the pillow threateningly under his arm.

“Era. Captain. Old Link. Go to sleep,” Sprite stressed. “Or it’ll be even longer ‘til we can leave.”

Era continued to glare half-heartedly at him, which Sprite returned with an equally fierce look, and Gloam decided to leave them to it.

“I’ll go see if Hue found that soup or not,” he said, trying not to smile, and began to leave the room.

“Wait, make sure nobody else comes in here,” Era rasped before he could go, grabbing Gloam’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. He gave him a serious look, and Gloam paused. “We don’t need it spreading. Keep Cloud out especially, you know h-how—”

He broke into a coughing fit again, and Gloam pulled his blanket back up around him, Sprite giving the knight a thinly-veiled look of worry.

“We’ll try and keep everyone out, calm down,” Gloam assured. “We’re serious though, obviously you need more rest. At least try and go back to sleep, I’ll go bring you some food in a bit.” Era didn’t reply, and Gloam left the room as Sprite rummaged in his pouch, already wondering how he was going to keep all the other Links out.

The sound of an ocarina followed him down the stairs, the slow notes of a lullaby ringing softly through the inn.

[annabolinas]

Adrienne Byrne as Catherine of Aragon and Jason Kemp as Prince Arthur in The Shadow of the Tower (1972), Episode 13: The King Without a Face

edited by me; apologies for any remaining artifacts!

[exoexid]

encántame buscar a miña aldea e a miña casa no google maps porque o coche que fai as rutas coa cámara non ven por eiquí dende o 2014 ou así e daquela tiña 12 anos e meu avó seguía con nós e a leira da casa familiar nom estaba pechada e a horta estaba chea pero ben chea e o carballo aínda tiña as polas que lle saíron esporádicas na metade do toro e a maceira dabaixo seguía caída rodeada desa planta cuxo nome descoñezo pero que tiña chores brancas que só crecían aí e o regho aínda tiña auga e as rás aínda visitaban o lavadoiro e o millo estaba plantado e os pozos seguían conectados á baixada na terra xusto antes dos limoeiros e ao percorrer a leira aínda vías restos da antiga canalización algo desfeitos e a filloeira seguía tirada e toda enferruxada ao lado das rodas do carro e o meu pexegueiro aínda seguía alí e a roda da carballeira seguía colghada e os gatos da catuxa aparecían alí onde mirases e a casa verde ao lado da froitería seguía en pé co seu hórreo e quería moito ás miñas amigas de quinto curso as que aínda hoxe quero moitísimo e non sei, non me podo crer que en apenas dez anos a miña vida cambiara tanto coma o fixo a pesaren de que eu mesma non me movera

[soul--weaver]

Every day idv makes me learn more about lovecraft against my will

[manoelt-finisterrae]

entón Orfeo neste calar

Transpondo o aquí coa súa palabra R. M. Rilke

non era o oído nin a súa pinza a pausa doce da proximidade voltar desfeito máis que nunca xamais agacharía a cifra da forma aquel instante lugar amado onde unha vez houbo raíces

© Manoel T, 2024

[butmakeitgayblog]

Bonjour. What do each of your clexas wear to bed for PJs

CoA: nothing, or an oversized tshirt and undies

Demon au: nothing. Full stop.

MBFW: depends. In the friend era? Usually tshirts and shorts, sometimes tshirts and undies. If it's hot wherever they're at, well then... they're not above just sleeping topless and in underwear (hence Raven claiming to have found them wrapped up together sleeping naked several times. They weren't! It's just that the sheet was covering their hips 🥺 cuz it was hot you see 🥺)

Cruel intentions: actual pajamas. Lexa tends to go for either lingerie-esque slips, or monogrammed soft cotton pajama sets. Clarke tends to go for silky boxer-like shorts and matching loose button up tops because she gets hot easily and she can adjust the coverage at will 😘

Prof/stu au: Lexa generally wears boxer briefs and no top to not only sleep, but also to wake up and make coffee in. Which is a lovely sight for Clarke's eyes, but when Madi first starts randomly staying over as well she has to switch to boxer briefs and a racerback (to sleep in, you'll understand why when Clarke sees the layout of Lexa's house 🥴) (also she learns to toss on a pair of baggy sweatpants when she goes to make their morning coffee, which also adds a very lovely appeal to the ensemble, or so Clarke's inner artist says... 🫦)

Clarke just a tshirt and booty shorts. She's never quite the amateur exhibitionist that Professor Sexy Face is, despite all of Lexa's copious boosting of her ego, but she also likes the way Lexa has to slip her hands under the oversized shirt to trace fingers up her back, so there are definitely still perks

[redcomunitaria]

Egoismo

Un mes donde se celebraba "La prevención contra el suicidio" yo estaba allí, contra la espada y la pared sin poder hacer nada, mientras mi mente colapsaba en ese momento, mientras yo estaba sentada en aquella silla, pensaba en cada una de mis decisiones, solo quería un hombro en el que poner mi frente. Yo, frente a la mesa con cada uno de los materiales listos, con los brazos débiles y todo silencioso, sabía que tomaría aquella ruta a pesar de tener miedo quizás lo haría, no había nada ni nadie que me pudiera detener, o sacar de aquel cuarto oscuro con una tenue luz. Estaba perdido, y desolado estaba horrorizado y era un cobarde, no servía ni para eso, pensaba. Tenía miedo, y dolor, con la garganta seca mientras lloraba, ya lo eh perdido todo de mí mismo, decía. No eh encontrado nada, agua, vida, yo mismo. No eh tenido nada, aire, paz, algo. El nada reinaba allí, mientras mi mente gritaba y mis manos temblaban, a la luz de la oscuridad que bien se sentía la solitaria paz pues no me observaba nadie, nadie me juzgaba, excepto yo y mi atrapada mente. Mientras yo caía solo en esta vacía soledad, quien podría sostener mi mano en aquel. Y se asomaba y me destruía, y me mentía, aquel no tenía miedo, ¿Por qué no usarías tu nombre?, ven y destrúyeme, en mi mente eh estado muerta hace tanto tiempo que ni lo había notado, llueve sobre mi esta inconcebible decisión. Había pasado tanto tiempo, cada día, casi todos los días yo me miraba al espejo y me decía y obligaba a pensar que todo estará bien, pero no era así, no era quien yo era, era un maldito desastre una puta basura, no pertenecía más aquí, ya no me importaba nada, quería tener tanto el control de tantas coas, que de nada tenía el control al final. Y eso me mataba. Cada día me despertaba con la esperanza de que esto secara, trataba de ver las cosas desde otra perspectiva, y eso me hería, saber que, aunque intente todo, sigue igual. No me quería ir así, por lo menos debería dejar cerrado todos esos asuntos, pero igualmente, la carta estará por ahí, si es que a alguien se le da por encontrarla(me), hallare una bonita edificación en la que poder descansar tranquilamente, pero lo único que quiero hacer es despedirme por ahora. Cuan egoísta seré, dándole mis cargas a alguien más, pero es que solo deseo que cese.

Mina_

[norkoartstuff]

Non-Cyberpunk version of Coa, Tlacique Elder in VTM

I'm probably going to headcanon the Tlacique lore away from old VTM and remake them for my purpose in the future; less stupid 90s era writing and more things to do with Blood Gods, hating the Sabbat and the Camarilla and having more to them than just "Azteca vampires" (There's like more than a dozen different cultures in Mexico alone).

The one thing I figured that could be cool is that one of the clan's has a flayed limb; Embracing is ritualized and a limb is flayed in the process which never heals and you have to hide in public.

I'm going to do more research but if anyone's an expert in pre-columbian america I'm all ears.

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Hello, Anon, this is your Oldie Chinese Diaspora Anon™️. I am sorry to keep you waiting. As you’ve probably noticed, vinyl and non-resin dolls are usually not my forte. It took a while to dig up some information for you, but I hope to be able to answer your questions.

The advent of “Cheaper, affordable MJDs” didn’t come from the desire to make BJDs affordable. In fact, the technology that really elevated the production of this kind of MJDs started from what we understand as vinyl collectibles. These small figurines are made from a combination of PVC powders as well as a series of other emulsifiers, lubricators and activators (From the factory that produces them, here: http://www.dgzhonglinhb.com/news_content-859681.html ) Different companies have slightly different recipes, which would explain the different pliability of their final products. The technology was first created as a way to create memorabilia that are of limited edition and they were first considered as collectibles. They’re known internally as “Urbanvinyls” and include signed trinkets that can go for hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Some examples would be KAWS, Kidrobot, Tokidoki, Bearbrick etc.

With the rise of “Made in China” soft power, the internally patriotic sentiment had fostered local artist-designed vinyl collectibles, which had eventually ballooned into the blind box craze that we see in the last 4-5 years. It also opened a door for vinyl/PVC based MJDs. I do not think they were specifically made to usurp the DD/SmD market, but since “moe sells”, a lot of the new doll companies go with the cute, anime-inspired aesthetic while the blind boxes cater to more design elements. These newly designed MJDs tend to be small, usually 1/12 and 1/6; larger ones exist, but they are rare. In all, they are created to be much more like their direct inspiration, the “blind box collectibles” than what we would usually consider to be articulated dolls. It also meant their target demographic is very different as well. The lower price point allows more people to impulse buy out of FOMO; these are things you buy on a whim instead of saving up to buy.

In this arena, Imómó is not alone in terms of aesthetic, pricing or packaging. Other companies in this group include Hüa Jüan, Tïny Fóx, UFdóll, CNDóll, Kimdóll, Pópmilk, Mónst and the upcoming YünLai/LückyDoll, etc (but not YMY – who has lost a battle with Piccodo for copying their body design recently). These dolls are created with a higher number in circulation in mind – but still limited enough to stimulate the FOMO behaviour – with shared features (sharing bodies, design elements, etc). To keep the production cost down, these dolls would be considered rather threadbare compared to BJDs. I have seen box opening videos where the floating “blind box” heads were packaged in a brown shipping box and wrapped around in clear plastic bags with no other packaging material. The “accessories” for these dolls are usually close to none as well – no or very simple COAs, basic box, air-filled tubes instead of fabric cushions, etc.A snapshot in time in online stores shows that Imómó is definitely not an outlier in the new era of MJDs: https://weibo.com/1448114577/Nj9fqfog3

https://www.dollyteria.com/product-list/58?page=1

If there’s something that really made Imómó stand out, it was the rumours that spread within Chinese doll collectors earlier in the summer of 2023 about the company not issuing legitimate receipts (usually with the intention to cook their books to pay less in taxes). They accuse Imómó of being a “Three Nothings” company (no date of manufacture, no QC and no source factory) with really awful customer service. They had registered the company as an “overseas-based” one so they would be in a different tax bracket. Some collectors also accuse the owner and their family members infiltrating doll collector groups to hype up their own products and downplay the complaints. A popular agent, SWDólls, were also implicated in helping them to not issue traceable receipts. (Details and screen grabs can be found here: https://weibo.com/7303299294/N8lHE6wGE?type=repost ) I have also heard of owners who complain about the parts not fitting well, the seamlines were wide and uneven as well as other imperfections that should’ve never passed QC, if there was a QC.

I understand that most of us, who are looking in from the outside, would wholly welcome a new era of articulated dolls that are affordable. They are a great entry point for people who want to get into BJDs or just want to collect these dolls on their own. I personally think they are great the way they are, because they are starting to populate a brand-new market for people who like dolls in general. However, the first company that most folks encounter in this group was probably Imómó. I cannot comment on the accusations made by the Chinese collectors; all I can say is, I am hoping that the other named companies start to make headway into the overseas market. We’d been waiting.

Note: The write up here didn’t include previously existing vinyl dolls such as Azóne and Obitsü or the vinyl versions of resin dolls such as Kinókó Jüice and Püyüdolls. This write-up only includes MiC, PVC-based, original, MJDs. My understanding is that they are not on par with the company in question in terms of price range, target market and country of origin. I didn’t think they’d make for a fair comparison, but your mileage may vary.

~Anonymous

[skyward-floored]

Hyrule Warriors - oneshot

Hello there, I’m sick and not up for much, so I’m crossposting some oneshots from my zelink/other ships fic on ao3 that never made it to tumblr :) (which are also technically courage of ages but shhhh)

Anyway, first up is Hyrule Warriors! Them <3

————————————————————

“What’s up buttercup?”

Zelda rolled her eyes at the call that came from her balcony, getting up with an eagerness rather contrary to the exasperated expression she wore.

Strolling outside, she looked up the wall where the voice had come from, putting a hand on her hip as she saw Link dangling from a ledge several feet up. He was hard to see, silhouetted by the setting sun, but his scarf flared out behind him and made him easier to spot.

“You I’d have to guess,” she answered dryly, and felt her heart flutter when she made out Link grinning at her.

He then began climbing his way down the vines growing along the side of the castle, slowly so as not to slip. Zelda watched him climb for a moment, wincing when he missed a foothold and slipped a bit anyway.

“You could have come through the door you know,” she suggested as he clambered down, “less general risk to life and limb.”

“Too many people around,” he replied, landing with a flourish a few feet away from her. “Would’ve been too many questions.”

She smiled at his dramatic entrance, rolling her eyes as he bowed.

“One of your better landings,” she teased, and Link gave her a winning smile, then promptly tripped over a loose stone.

Zelda let out a laugh as he flailed, only barely managing to catch himself and not face-plant. He leaned casually on the railing around the balcony, and pointedly ignored the fact that his scarf was twisted oddly around his leg.

“I meant to do that.”

“Mm.”

Zelda began to walk back into her room, and Link followed her, trying to shake out his leg without her noticing. “I did!”

“Of course, hero.”

She sat back down at her desk, with Link a few steps behind her, letting out a yawn as she picked up her pen again and went back to filling in the documents.

“And what fun-filled paperwork are we doing this evening?” Link asked, leaning over and completely blocking her light. She swatted him with her writing instrument, and he pulled back, giving her another grin. She somehow managed to hold in her amusement at the large smear of ink across his nose he didn’t notice, looking back at her desk with a small sigh.

“Only a hundred or so papers that need my signature.” She tried to make sure it wasn’t a complaint, but the tiredness leaked out through her voice anyway. “I’ve been at it all afternoon, I swear that stack has multiplied.”

Link looked at the large pile of papers still sitting on her desk, and the playfulness faded from his eyes.

“You need to get out for a bit?” he asked gently.

Zelda sighed again and shook her head. Goodness did she ever.

“I wish I could. But I’ve got to finish these, and there’s a meeting tonight as well. If we go anywhere I won’t have enough time to come back and prepare,” she said disappointedly.

Link’s brows lowered a bit. “Council meeting?”

Zelda rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on at the mere thought of it. “Yes. It should just be business as usual. We’re supposed to discuss farming communities affected by the war and how to provide assistance for those worst hit, but...”

“...But?”

Zelda sighed. “They’ve been bringing up marriage again.”

Link’s face turned worried, though it held an equal amount of outrage along with it. The council hated him, and the feeling was definitely mutual, but recently their vendetta against Link had gotten much more personal. They were now trying to convince Zelda she needed to marry as soon as possible, and any suitors had to be royalty.

Which Link was not.

“Again? I thought Impa had gotten them off your back about that,” he muttered, an edge to his voice.

“She had. But since she’s checking on those monsters by the Lost Woods they must figure they can get away with it,” she groaned, “if I have to hear about how rich Prince Roalphu of Labrynna is again I may just bring my rapier along.”

Link didn’t laugh at her words like he usually would, instead going quiet.

Zelda went quiet as well, watching as Link seemed to think something over. His mouth was pressed in a worried line, wrinkling the scar on his jaw, and when he looked back up his expression was surprisingly gentle.

“Zelda...” he finally spoke in a soft voice. “You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Zelda looked at him seriously, feeling her heart ache. “I know. But Hyrule might need me to.”

Silence fell between them.

Zelda looked down at the parchment in front of her, running a tired hand across her eyes. Of course she didn’t want to marry any of the pompous idiots her council kept recommending to her, they were all numbskulls who cared nothing for her or for Hyrule as a whole. But the truth was that the kingdom wasn’t in the best of shapes after such a disruptive and messy war, and funds were on the low side of things.

And if marrying a pompous idiot could help with that, then she’d put aside her own feelings and do what she had to.

She sighed yet again, and felt Link slip his hand into hers, giving it the gentlest of squeezes. She squeezed back and looked up, meeting his bright blue eyes.

“Sorry,” she apologized quietly. “You snuck in here to visit me and here I am just complaining.”

“It’s alright,” Link replied, his voice gentle. “I get it. I imagine it’s worse without Impa around.”

“It is,” Zelda admitted in a whisper.

Link squeezed her hand again, then leaned in, gently bumping his head with hers. She leaned in as well and he gave her a smile.

“Well, we may not have time to sneak out, but we could always do something here,” he suggested, changing the subject.

Zelda raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Oh yes? Like what?”

His eyes twinkled.

“Game of chess?”

Zelda stared at him, her brows narrowing. “Link that never ends well.”

He smirked, twirling her pen he’d somehow stolen. “Sounds like you’re just afraid you’ll lose.”

Zelda knew exactly what he was trying to do, and hated that he knew her well enough that he knew it’d work. Both of them were excellent strategists, so much that games of chess could get rather heated at times. They were about even in ability as well, so it was never a given which one of them would win.

And Link knew fully well a game always cheered her up.

She sighed and poked his chest with her finger. “Fine. One game. But then I get back to work.”

Link smiled at her, his eyes still twinkling maddeningly.

“Of course your highness.”

(...)

Zelda fell asleep halfway through their third game.

Link smiled at her head resting on the edge of the chessboard, hair having knocked over several pieces while a rook pressed up against her cheek in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable.

He gently tugged it out, deftly replacing it with a pillow he borrowed from her bed, then draped a blanket over her as well.

As suited as Zelda was to the stress of battles and the split-second decisions that arose from them, politics and their stressors were a whole other deal, one that wore her out more then Link knew she’d ever admit. And this kind of stress always made her sleepy, which he also knew would win out the moment she felt like she could relax a little.

She shifted a little and he smiled, fixing the blanket around her shoulders.

He glanced over at the pile of papers on her desk, and twirled Zelda’s pen thoughtfully in his fingers as he wandered closer to the stack. He’d seen her sign hundreds of things like this... maybe he could lighten her load a bit.

Forging signatures may have technically been illegal, but in this case Link was willing to bend the rules a bit. Zelda would certainly do the same for him.

He nodded to himself, decision made, pressed a kiss to Zelda’s forehead, and cracked his knuckles and got to work.

(...)

By the time Zelda woke up for her meeting, he was gone, nothing but a complete pile of signed documents and a smear of ink on her desk to show he’d ever been in the room.

[annabolinas]

From left to right: Anne Stallybrass as Jane Seymour, Keith Michell as Henry VIII, Dorothy Tutin as Anne Boleyn, and Annette Crosbie as Catherine of Aragon in a promo picture for The Six Wives of Henry VIII (1970)

Edited by me

[afranciscomiradiezblr-blog]

Arte Banksy, murales, pintadas, arte callejero...¡Arte efímero!

Título: Rata con gafas 3D. Banksy, después. Plantilla/spray. StreetArt. Edición: A/P (prueba de artista) Aleatoria/XX. Incluye tarjeta COA firmada por el editor. Firma impresa (firmada en placa). Título y numeración a mano a lápiz.

Banksy , (nacido en 1974, Bristol, Inglaterra), artista de graffiti británico anónimo conocido por su arte antiautoritario, a menudo realizado en lugares públicos. Aunque la identidad de Banksy estaba bien protegida, se dio cuenta de que era un artista de graffiti a mano alzada en 1993. Utilizando plantillas desde 2000 para aumentar su velocidad, desarrolló una iconografía distintiva de imágenes altamente reconocibles, como ratas y policías, que comunicaban su mensaje antiautoritario...

[eveningdreams8]

I am parting with this body!

It's an elfdoll girl body girl to boy mod, and some mods to help with mobility, I bought the full doll second hand in 2011 pre COA era but I do still have the original box if anyone needs proof of credibility

Comes with original hands ( one broken) replacement beyours boy hands which are a near flawless match, extra shins with chip, unfortunately in the same spot as the currently used shin but worse

The body is evenly yellowed, would be a great project body for a fantasy mod with the extra shins or a good match for a small head, you can keep or remove tattoos as you wish, the paint I used has had a good track record of not staining but I can't guarantee that it hasn't

Body will be shipped partially unstrung

200$ USD+ shipping ( I can provide very reasonable shipping prices to Canada and US)

[manoelt-finisterrae]

como tremía o vento!

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© Manoel T, 2023

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In Vespa

Saio dunha das últimas sesións de cinema ás que tiven o pracer de ir. En Numax, Compostela. Teño un sorriso inperturbábel, o corazón a baterme fóra do peito. Que bo filme, que bo corpo me deixou! Tratábase do último filme de Nanni Moretti, Il sol dell'avvenire, deste mesmo ano. Subín á miña Vespa, que deixara aparcada preto da sala, e volvín para a casa coa música festiva que acompañaba aos créditos na miña cabeza. Movendo a cabeza dun lado a outro, bailarina, alegre. Feliz.

Fun rumiando na grande -e grata- influenza que tivo na miña persoa Nanni Moretti e o visionado do seu filme máis sonado, Caro diario (1993), en primeiro ou segundo de carreira de audiovisuais. Decateime de que non era casualidade o que, despois de moitos anos de usar bus, coche e tren como transporte prioritario, me decidira a coller unha moto. Unha Vespa, por suposto... non, en realidade non é unha Vespa, senón unha imitación en versión eléctrica. Pero ten as vibes dunha Vespa, indubidablemente, pois iso foi o que me engaiolou dela: eu quixen ser como Nanni Moretti e percorrer a Roma popular sobre dúas rodas, preguntando as miñas ocorrencias aos transeuntes, transformando a realidade ao meu paso e coa banda sonora latendo no corazón.

A Vespa é todo un símbolo, unha icona, a representación dun estilo de vida e dun caracter nacional. Ou trátase dun estereotipo máis de Italia, como a pasta ou o característico xesto de pechar os dedos e axitar a man? Aínda que o consideraramos un cliché, a xente en Italia acéptao e presume del orgullosa; está presente ao longo de toda a historia do seu cinema, dende a posguerra até a actualidade. Mais eu daríalle a consideración de símbolo, en tanto que está ligado á historia do pobo Italiano e á súa clase obreira, específicamente, aínda que nalgún contexto a Vespa poda tratarse dun obxecto de glamour.

Situámonos no contexto do final do conflito armado que trazou o destino de Europa: a Segunda Guerra Mundial. Italia, como reflicte o seu movemento neorrealista en boca de directores como Rossellini ou De Sica, é un país feito anacos despois dunha cruel ditadura fascista e a invasión dunha potencia estranxeira. Europa, en xeral, sofre as consecuencias dunha guerra devastadora para todos os aspectos dunha sociedade, incluído o económico. Xorde entón a necesidade de dotar á poboación de medios de locomoción asequibles que axuden a activar a economía, e propostas como o Escaravello de Volkswagen, alemán... ou a Vespa de Piaggio, italiana.

A Vespa, deseñada por un enxeñeiro aeronáutico -aquí o por que do seu particular aspecto- converteuse no vehículo da clase obreira, do pobo currante. Tivo que chegar o William Wyler dende os EUA para romantizar este vehículo e darlle unha aura de glamour, ampliando o seu significado, grazas ao seu filme Roman holiday (1953). No filme, unha magnífica Audrey Hepburn fai de princesa de incógnito que quere probar por un día as vantaxes de ser unha plebea; o xornalista Gregory Peck lévaa en Vespa polas rúas de Roma, desfrutando dun pracer que daquela era tipicamente obreiro.

Roma! A cidade das Vespas -aínda que, na experiencia da que escribe, hai Vespas por todas as cidades italianas-, do Tévere, do Coliseo, do gelato, do sol dourado, dos barrios, do lecer despreocupado e do rebumbio cotiá. Todo isto está presente en Roman holiday, pero tamén en Caro diario. Quizabes co risco de caer na autoexotización, no mirar, como pobo, o propio con ollos alleos. Toda resignificación ten os seus riscos!

A Vespa tamén ten a capacidade de transformarse, de traspasar fronteiras e adaptarse a novos ecosistemas; no UK dos anos 60 e 70 foi a moto dos mods como os de Quadrophenia (Frank Roddam, 1979). Simbolizou a rebeldía, a liberdade, a xuventude, o angst dunha g-g-generation. Tamén chegou aos EUA, como elemento exótico e glamuroso, directamente influído polo filme de Wyler e Hepburn. Houbo quen lle engadiu un sidecar, houbo quen a convertiu nun motocarro...

Hóuboas de todas as cores e de todas as épocas; pero cóntovos un segredo: escollede unha ben chamativa para que teña un extra de significado narrativo no voso filme. Como elemento de atrezzo, caracteriza a unha personaxe, á persoa condutora, con toda a carga semántica e estética que viñemos describindo -xuventude, clase obreira, liberdade, lecer, despreocupación-. Serve para moitas cousas, entre elas tamén facer destacar á personaxe sobre as demais cunha elección particular de transporte. Nanni Moretti é Nanni Moretti en Vespa; Jimmy é Jimmy en Vespa; Teodoro e seu pai son Teodoro e seu pai na Vespa con sidecar.

Como calquera vehículo nun filme, a Vespa traslada ás personaxes dunha localización a outra; mais non se limita a esa función práctica. Como calquera outro arquetipo, constrúese ao longo da historia, levando de equipaxe unha manchea de significados.

Iso si, sede como o amigo Nanni -e non como Audrey- e levádeme casco!

Até o vindeiro episodio!