#a bit inaccurate

[cuddlytogas]

So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.

See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.

But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...

What is the difference between this and this?

Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?

Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.

But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.

And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.

But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.

See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!

As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.

And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:

So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?

Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.

In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.

In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.

This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).

Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.

More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.

This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.

A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.

But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.

#everyone say 'thank you togas' for not including a long tangent about evil rimmer in red dwarf 5x05 #Our Flag Means Death #Togas does meta #and yes these principles DO fall apart slightly in s2 and i DON'T like those costumes as much #don't get me wrong they're fun and gorgeous - but generally a bit less deep and more inaccurate. so. :( #I'm not sure this really says anything new about Our Flag but I just needed to get my thoughts out #i hate hate hate Gritty Period Drama costumes they're so boring and so ugly and so wrong #god bless OFMD for using more than 3 muted colours and actually putting men in heels (and not as a shorthand for rich/foppish villainy) <3 #looking at that Tudors still is insane like they really will go to any lengths to not make men feel like they've got bare legs XD #image descriptions in alt text #and yes i DID just sink about two hours into those so you'd better appreciate them

[kyuhu]

pwetty

#hws poland #hws lithuania #lietpol #aph poland #aph lithuania #inaccurate clothing #as always heh #dhgfadfs I put so much effort into this to not feel the urge to delete it again #lets see how it goes #very happy with Liet actually but unsure about Feliks #maybe it's the colors or his left hand idk #NOO I figured it out #his hair is too uh big?? like this needs to be shrinked a tiny bit and it would be so much better #not even the entire head as usual just the hair #oh whatever I'm strong enough to leave it like this

[gigizetz]

Hii ! I know this is like super random but I'm so in love with your art style, it's so full of life !

If you ever have time , could you draw another piece of your Ares & Aphrodite? I'm so obsessed with them

sure!

#their heights are a bit inaccurate but whatever just pretend aphrodite is standing on a stool or something #gigi's asks #digital art #art #greek myths #character design #aphrodite #ares

[yazzydream]

The record holder for consecutive Black Flash uses, Nanami Kento, speaks It's not like using Black Flash consecutively is anything amazing. To do so consecutively more than twice in a row… Rather, if not done within the same day it would be difficult. It doesn't matter if the first time is by fluke or skill. Once they land a Black Flash, sorcerers temporarily enter a state athletes call "the zone." The manipulation of cursed energy that is normally done consciously, comes as naturally as breathing. There's a sense of omnipotence, like everything else revolves around you… That might be a good way to put it.

#my jjk #my gifs #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #black flash #gifs; jjk #jjkedit #flashing gif #movie 0 #hyeahjujutsu #yes crunchyroll subs were a bit inaccurate with nanami's explanation #to be fair it was hard to understand and i needed to read the og jp #official english manga tl was also wrong #many thanks to @nanami-says blog for pointing it out #my translations

[clownsfiles]

Lamb of God, or Sheep of God?

#my artwrok #illustration #art #artists on tumblr #fyodor dostoevsky #russian literature #classic literature #fanart #the brothers karamazov #alyosha karamazov #doodle #sketch #uhhhh #my version of alyosha ig #sorry if its a bit inaccurate

[junkydoodle]

same toothless

#httyd #httyd fanart #this is a bit inaccurate cause they both love their dragons but I thought it was funny #hiccup haddock #toothless

[dailyfirestarter]

Day 12

#firestarter #flint bonpyre #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #toonblr #corporate clash #toontown #ttcc firestarter #art #daily firestarter #This one was a little bit rushed and late. Idgaf (kind of gives a fuck) #Flint's toonsona using clothes and accessories that are available ingame ^_^ #The only inaccurate thing here is the tail but I had to do it for the bit

[peonycats]

Public nation stuff is soooo funny plS give more

WAH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT DESPITE IT BEING SO ABSURD SGDFHJSDJHSJ... and on a similar note, I wanted to thank you to everyone who sent me well wishes and support when I made my prev post, they really touched me while I was having a rough time, and I can't say that enough 🥺 so from the bottom of my heart, thank you 💖

British Museum Under Pressure To Return Looted Hello Kitty Phone Case To Chinese National Personification

LONDON—Facing numerous calls for the institution to finally make amends for historical wrongs, the British Museum was under pressure Tuesday to return a looted Hello Kitty phone case to its original owner, the national personification of the People's Republic of China. “It is long past time for the British Museum to atone for its sins and return this novelty Hello Kitty phone case to its rightful home encasing my Huawei P60 Pro,” said Yao Wang, the national personification, noting that the British Museum had not even issued a formal acknowledgement of the fact that the British national personification Arthur Kirkland had stolen the phone case in the shape of the popular anthropomorphic cat character in 2015, with the assistance of former Queen Elizabeth II. “That Hello Kitty phone case, beyond being an integral part of Chinese culture, is a symbol of the economic and physiological abuse the Chinese people been forced to endure at the hands of British colonialism. It is unconscionable that the museum would withhold these socially significant and important kitschy accessories from the young women (and thousands years old personifications) to whom they belong.” At press time, the British Museum was facing increased criticism after claiming Wang would not be able to properly care for the prized Hello Kitty phone case.

#ask #anonymous #hetalia #hws england #hws china #historically inaccurate hair is historically inaccurate #i painted over the original picture in the article as a bit of a warm up lolll

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

hi, the way this blog is formatted and the menu is written is so creative and fitting! i had a great time looking through it

may i request some fem reader w rocky? maybe him playing the violin or reciting poems in a public space to himself and reader is the only one to react (positively) so he immediately is struck in awe. please and thank you :)

Good evening, Anon!! First off, thank you very much for the compliment. Two things you should know, however...

This ended up over three thousand words long somehow. (For the record, it was gonna be a scenario.)

It's the cheesiest meet-cute I've ever written, so I advise you all to brace yourselves, folks-

That being said, enjoy!! <3

When you heard it, everything else quieted.

The thunder of cars bolting down a busy road, metal armor bobbing upon four wheels as they broke past and left smaugful clamor clashing against the monstrum business blocks, softened to but a distant skitter of shiny black bugs ambling self-importantly about. The cacophony of pedestrians, indiscernible faces in square suits and tasteful pastels spewing bits of language into one converging mess, each voice independent yet competing for dominance until they clawed at your eardrums and suffocated your thoughts now felt no graver than the meek rustle of forest foliage when coddled by the summer breeze; a humming chorus to a beautiful solist’s serenade, and when a bycicle trilled inches past normally skittish, city-dweller you it didn’t even occur to step aside as you were far too absorbed in the one delightful sound that made the greys of asphalt’s reign seem greyer and dulled even the most striking women’s daywear to sun-worn cleaning rags in comparison.

It was a melody the color of blue, matching his eyes.

You hadn’t a chance to admire them for long when you spotted him in the crowd. They drifted closed for long stretches of time as their owner’s features suggested a deep, gentle focus on the music, his whole being smoothing into the instrument. There was something bewitching about the violin, you found; seemed even its players could seldom resist its particular pull, fingers dancing across the strings as if possessed by magic. The rosined bow dipped to and fro in a hypnotic sequence that pulsed like the rise and ebb of the tides; sometimes the pace changed, slowed to but a meandering, peaceful ponderance before it flew from the threads of catgut like nimble sparks of lightning, with the ease and comfort of at least a thousand hours of practice.

Must’ve been a classical piece, if not improv; but for that far too complex. Vivaldi? Mozart? You hadn’t heard it before, so you couldn’t confirm, however it proved the enchanting stranger to be both talented and educated. He looked up from his divine craft to initiate eye contact with passersby and, yes, he had the bluest eyes indeed, seated under emphatic brows, and he gave a hopeful smile of such integrity to those undeserving strangers who walked past in indifference as if he’d been an smaug-borne ghost, a trick of the light invisible to all but yourself and when he turned in resignation and his gaze caught upon you, playing still, your breath hitched in your throat.

How long had you been gawking there, frozen on the sidewalk like a dimwit? Oh, no. He must have thought you such a creeper; a notion which you had to rectify, and rectify it quick. Puff your chest out, march up, tell him you liked his playing and leave a dime; you took off at once with this very plan in mind.

In doing so, you forgot you had stood on opposing sides of the road.

Heels clicked across hot concrete in a headlong hurry. You realized that the cars were still coming midway through when his eyes widened in horror and a spontaneous screech of tires replaced that joyous melody. You stumbled back, blinded by car polish and a pair of glaring headlights you profusely apologized to before skittering away from a second car in the right lane when it came to an angry halt likewise. Loud honks scolded you along your path whilst you yelled back sheepish sorries.

Well, talk about making an entrance.

As you reached the paved edge, a hand manifested to help you up on it.

“Are you alright, miss?”

And blue eyes. You felt yourself sink further into the road with the transient wish those cars had hit you after all, nonetheless took the offer and tottered along with the stranger’s help. He held bow and violin in his other hand, by the neck, and you narrowly avoided stepping on their rickety case with a meager amount of coins and a crumpled up bill inside.

Ah, right. He’d been busking, after all.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he reiterated, scanning you, and you realized you’d missed the previous question. “It’s hardly safe to cross this thoroughfare without looking both ways first, you know. You ought to try that next time.”

“I know, I know– I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

You weren’t. Not when this handsome vagabond with the most radiant blue oculars you’d ever seen and enough of a musical gift to put you in a trance kept observing you from such proximity whilst implicitly chiding you for being a tunnel-visioned idiot.

“Well, great news, then!” he grinned. Oh. That’s a lot of teeth, you noted with slightly raising eyebrows. “I doubt I’d have been able to sleep tonight had you met an undue fate under the stampede of these motorized beasts all for just trying to reach me.”

An odd penchant for metaphors, too. When you didn’t respond right away, he withdrew his gesturing hand in contemplation.

“You… were careening specifically my way, yes?”

“Yes!”

You snapped out of your appreciation for his endearingly boyish timbre and thereby commenced a frantic battle with your purse as you attempted to pry something from it.

“Right, I was heading this way– just give me a moment–”

He watched in intrigue as you counted something he couldn’t see under your breath, then produced the intended amount of what he identified to be cash and reached to hand it over to him, near breathless.

“I really loved your playing.”

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye yet hardly missed his astonishment when he conceived the sum.

“Miss, that’s ten dollars.”

“Yes,” you affirmed curtly. “What of it?”

“I can’t accept that.”

Hearing which, you did finally face him with a frown.

“You’re a very kind soul,” he asserted in a hurry, smile never faltering, “and I’m thoroughly humbled by your contribution, but I cannot rob a lady of her hard earned pay in good conscience for that frivolous noise–”

“It was beautiful noise,” you interjected with knitted brows, “I really did enjoy it, and you deserve much better audience than the pedestrians of some drab street corner who’ll never bother to pay your music the attention it deserves.”

You pointed curtly toward the flow of people. Some in turn spared you a glance, but then you blended into their scenery again like another pair of shop mannequins.

“So take it from a lady,” you enunciated, all but shoving the money in his chest, “and I sincerely hope you end up in a concert hall someday.”

You exhaled and waited. He stared at your extended hand, then you, then at your hand and back again and gorgeous as you found those gleaming sapphires you couldn’t for the life of you tell what he was thinking. Your arm muscles trembled, and you contemplated whether sparing yourself from the awkwardness of further playing statue might be worth giving up anyway.

Finally, he seized your wrist with both hands. He didn’t seem to notice your startlement as he was busy beaming at you bright enough to put celestial bodies to shame.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…”

God forsake it, that smile alone was turning your heart into a fluffy, overripe dandelion inside your chest. If he kept up, you feared he might just blow it apart.

But you managed to tell.

“Well, miss…” he began, implementing your surname, and you would’ve bolted on pure instinct had you not taken root at your spot, “your generous praise is, by far and large, the most invaluable gift I could’ve received on this brilliant morning.”

You took a deep inhale, acutely aware of his touch tingling across your skin even though he meant nothing by it… you supposed.

“You have certainly made a lowly troubadour’s day with your gracious approbation,” he patted your knuckles, at the same time gently shoving your offer away. “You see, I could tell from the moment our gazes locked across the street that I would enjoy the pleasure of meeting someone positively extraordinary… right after she ambled through the active traffic. Call it a concise connection of kindred souls, if you will. You, miss, have proved yourself a true appreciator of the arts.”

When those blue eyes were holding yours hostage so intently, you almost did believe he could see into your very soul. You tried to brave it, however.

“Thank y–”

“Which is why this won’t be needed.”

You held the rejected money against your chest, where he had guided it.

“You’ll be better off forfeiting it to charity,” he suggested, “if aiding the honest predicaments of your fellow citizens in need is a cause dear to your heart. Like orphans! Those poor, unmothered things, always caught in the throes of some quintessential lack or other; surely they could put your benevolent funds to good use… that is, in case you are looking to make a charity. If you’re not interested in, erm, providing for the orphans, that’s still quite fine. You just seem to me the sort to care for children. But that doesn’t make it your obligation, of course, to feed the orphans… no one is about to force that duty upon you… in equally sound conscience I suppose you could just as well keep the money…”

He proceeded along his mildly morally concerned tangent, but any of it beyond the lip movements you ceased to process. Some convoluted cliché about personal indulgence over supporting the waifs of the world, you reckoned. In terms of lifting your spirits it achieved a ludicrous heap of nothing, and amidst your silent marinating in this strange and unexpected failure of your strange and unexpected encounter, you continued to clutch the bills to yourself.

You didn’t figure that may have looked like dismay on his end until he trailed off, fidgeting vaguely as he probed your expression. The warmth of his hands on yours still lingered.

“My attempt at a point is,” he resumed at a slower pace, “you’re awful generous, but to tell you the truth, I’m quite comfortably off without the help. I am employed, after all.”

“You are?”

Rude as it sounded to gape the question so, you hadn’t considered that possibility. He was… well, not badly dressed, but his clothes appeared worn and a tad oversized on his comically skinny limbs, granting him a ragamuffin sort of appearance.

Though you still found it quite charming.

“Sure am!” he grinned in earnest, and you’d soon come to accept that his face simply looked that way when he did. “This is only some nifty supplemental income for a craft I spend day and night honing anyway. Really, I play out here to preserve my associates’ peace of mind more than anything. The other day they got so peeved with all the melodic caterwauling my boss had to fetch a broomstick and chase me out into the great wide open after failing to quiet me down.”

A chuckle escaped you at the joke, and it’s like his eyes gleamed brighter.

“What can I say,” he admitted with a theatrical shrug, “a musician’s ichor pulses to the ever-flowing rhythm of higher realms beckoning. That can hardly be helped. When my eager heart doesn’t sing Apollo’s odes from the strings, it reaches for the lyre, however… but they don’t deal in stanzas and limericks on the job market in contemporary times.” He glanced off into the distance wistfully, as if envisioning an ideal future where they did. “Miss M, our aforementioned lady-in-charge, says it’s only since our customers can’t exactly do the Lindy Hop to recitativo verse form.”

“So that means you’re a poet?”

“Indeed!”

You hummed in acknowledgement. He gave his vest a proud little adjustment as part of the performance, not that it served to make him look any more presentable.

“Vivacious vicinal versificator,” he expatiated with a playful half-bow, “humble herald of numinous inspiration, eulogizing the beauties of this peculiar earthly life to the cobblestone and the stars for a passtime. Old Muddy Miss herself has proven to be my most faithful audience… and for lack of substantial competition, in her listening skills she remains unexcelled.”

“Not for long, I should hope.”

That made him pause. Your nerves struck you alert as you rushed to explain.

“That is, well, I would be curious to join said, um, audience… mayhaps… sometime. I mean– you have a fascinating vocabulary, sir, so I can only imagine…”

He listened on with perplexed blue eyes; you mentally smacked yourself for the honorific. No one so refreshingly unrefined as this overeager stray puppy of a man could even remotely qualify for a ‘sir’, and you were happy about that, because had you made so many social blunders with any other stranger in succession you would’ve craved death.

He took his sweet time providing a readable reaction, but when he did he laughed. Not with a mocking edge, as you had feared; the sound tinkled as melodically as his trusty violin.

“Oh, miss, you’re just a bundle of pleasant surprises.”

You came to chuckle along, too, a nervous smile stretching your lips. He took your hand again.

“I’d be delighted to deliver a private recital,” he dipped forward then paused, perhaps contemplating whether a kiss on the back of it would be appropriate, peering up at you in a bluest display of rapt attention that made your heart leap, “if that’s truly the case.”

You averted your eyes. The vague unease as if you’d given your name to a fae in a stroke of recklessness minutes prior melted into the bustle of sluggish, smoke-ridden traffic.

“So where is it that you work?” you switched the topic.

Attuned, he let go of your hand as if it had burned him, adjusting his hat like an excuse.

“Little Daisy Café,” he responded quickly, perpetual cheer intact. “It’s just an ambitious spit from here, actually, a few blocks down that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where you’d been headed. “Awful cute little gem of an establishment. Perhaps you’ve been to?”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Well, I can only recommend that you drop by. The pancakes are to die for.”

“And there’s live music?”

You both glanced at the violin, then back at each other. He gave you another grin that you couldn’t help but detect as somewhat complicit.

“Makes your early beverage taste all the sweeter.”

You let your eyes linger on one of the boutique windows in the background; a closed one under construction. The ample light struck it at an angle which obscured the debris-filled darkness and activity inside, flawless glass surface glimmering at front in gorgeous deceit. Its reflective sheen conjured an alluring vision; deep azure sky dotted with fringed, fluffy lamb-clouds.

Suppose you offered it.

“Well, if you won’t let yourself be tipped,” you sighed, putting your money away, “may I treat you to breakfast, at least? A plate of those fabled pancakes, even?”

Childlike delight flashed across his face before the metaphorical reins were pulled back with a frantic grip.

“Why, miss, you’re spoiling me,” he lamented, “but I really shouldn’t–”

“I was heading for the bakery myself,” you continued with a pacifying gesture, “but now with your recommendation in mind, I might as well try a treat from that ‘little gem’ of a café, no? You could show me the way there, and… I suppose I could listen to those stanzas of yours, if you’d be willing to share…”

The words intended to compose the rest of your reasoning kept tumbling from your grasp before you could string them together, and someone in the crowd of pedestrians laughed. A snooty, feminine laugh. He kept watching you and you only, however, engulfing you in that mysterious blue once again.

“…granted that is okay with you, of course.”

He began to smile like the sun itself and dove with startling momentum for the violin case.

“Why, it’d be most uncouth to refuse the benevolent offer of such lovely ladyship,” he concluded while packing away his instrument then slapped the lid over the case once finished, money withstanding, “and I don’t reckon I’ll make two more pennies to rub together this morning, so I’d be more than happy to escort you along.”

He grabbed the handle and sprung up, beaming at you with the energy of a couple additional suns before he got an idea and moved to offer his free arm toward you like the smoothest of gallants. Clearing his throat, to boot.

“Mademoiselle?”

You put a hand to your chest, accentuating the action with a playful once-over.

“Chivalrous,” you chuckled before locking his arm with your own. The two of you would set off this way not unlike lovers, which he stiffened at the realization of.

“Too much?” he questioned.

“No, it’s quite alright.”

The cracks in the sidewalk became very interesting all of a sudden, however. You could feel his skinniness and lack of musculature thus far only guessed through the rolled-sleeved shirt; not that you minded.

Must have not gotten treated to meals often.

“About that poetry,” he piped up a bit quieter than before, “granted you won’t tire of my voice ahead of time…”

“Don’t be silly.”

You gave him a look, then caught yourself.

“Well, alright,” he resigned with an evaluating pout when you turned away, “but, uh… unfortunately, most of my limbs are occupied. And the fervent gesticulation makes up half the performence.”

By that point, you found yourself believing him. You all but burst into laughter at the mental image.

“Maybe you can gesticulate it to me after the fact,” you quipped.

“…Fair enough.”

You reached a street corner together and turned it. From the corner of your eye, a young couple were teasing each other by a flower shop on the opposite side of the road with a posy gift of piquant red tulips, blushing and giggling. You matched the bouncing steps of the stranger you were intertwined with in newfound giddiness.

“Let’s see,” he pondered, scanning the rows of buildings in an absent-minded manner before his eyes lit up. “Right! As fortune would have it, there does happen to be one I’ve been itching to inflict on a willing pair of ears for the past week…”

He made a big show of clearing his throat before he began; you were eager to let the mesmerized flow that had brought you to him in the first place take you along, absorbing the dramatic inflection and animated spirit oozing from his entire complexion as he made the widest gestures he was capable of in his inhibited position nonetheless.

A stranger indeed…

“Wait!”

Before he could proceed with any experimental odes to clay and calicos, you cut him off. He turned to you right away, magic put on hold.

“I never caught your name.”

He glanced around in recollection before those notorious brows sprung up.

“I never passed it,” he exclaimed, bewildered, and wriggled from your hold haphazardly as he scrambled for his hat. “Oh, foolish I! Forgive me this horrendous discourtesy, milady, if you might find it in your heart.”

You simply observed him in amusement.

A zephyr swept along the length of the street, bringing where you stood a nectarine fragrance which, though delicate, transcended the heavy smoke and for a delightful moment let you smell nothing but itself. With his hat now off and held politely to his chest, the breeze ruffled his tousled hair as it did yours. His blue eyes shone in the urban grey like diamonds.

“The name is Rocky Rickaby.”

And when he said it, you already knew you wouldn’t tire of that voice anytime soon.

#{💌 mod rory 💌} #{fun fact!! I did a bit of research on how much ten dollars would've been worth back then} #{and I came out of it still not understanding how dollars work} #{anyway this is finally finished!! keep feeling like there's something weird or historically inaccurate here that I can't quite identify} #{if that's the case feel free to point it out to me!! I don't rlly write historical fiction like. ever} #{Lackadaisy fics sure are a challenge for that reason hahah} #{but I do love it} #lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #rocky lackadaisy #lackadaisy rocky #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy x reader #reader insert

[clavtheft]

I've been drawing a lot in class so I don't zone out. Will probably more of these once I have more that I consider done.

#mgs #mgs raiden #mgs fanart #raiden mgs #I did the binary by counting on my fingers so it'll come out as gibberish if you use a translater #5 bits per letter and each letter is their position in the alphabet #1 is A and so on #Also I think part of it is cut off and I didn't check for typos but it's not that interesting anyways #I'm sure the skeleton is inaccurate too tbh

[sock-tin]

OK SO context i have a hc that when shadow knights turn into their true form their hair also gets dramatically longer (i also like to think they look physically more monstrous BUT THATS FOR LATER CONTENT) so when laurance comes back from the nether his hair is super long and gets cadenza to trim it instead of cutting it super short and dyeing it :> so HERES MY GUY TRYING DIFF HAIRSTYLES WHILE RECOVERING!!!

#IGNORE THE STARK DIFFERENCE OF QUALITY I WAS AWAY FOR ABIT AND DID THE FIRST BIT ON IPAD #but yeah heres my boy tryin diff hairstyles while recovering GOD i would have wanted his recovery period to be way longer than it was #like give me laurance discovering himself after being tortured for 6 months straight #where are my training moments with garroth and laurance with gar reteaching laur how to fight after being wrecked by traveling dimensions #also my lore knowledge and hcs may be inaccurate im still rewatching the series so uhm BIG OOPS IF ANYTHING IVE PUT HERE IS INACCURATE #aphmau #minecraft diaries

[anglerflsh]

robots

#[.art] #[.oc] #Adam #dnd #automaton #android #he is a bit like a dress-up doll to me. I keep making his outfits fancier and fancier the more I look into 18th/19th century fashion #I'm glad of how my artstyle has evolved since the first time I drew Adam because I feel like he's well-suited for this kind of drawing. #1700s automaton boy in his historically inaccurate clothing. He's so special to me. In his non-dnd version he's so passive agressive #in dnd too to be fair. But at least in dnd he's gotten less attatched to the idea of his government being absolutely perfect #character development: the robot built to praise and impersonificate the city of progress is no longer a fan of the city of progress. #he's still very much a lawful-aligned character but so is almost every character I make.

[ifindus]

1660 - Cavalryman - Several wars under Denmark against Sweden.

1697 - Gunner - pre-Great Nordic War under Denmark against Sweden.

1774 - Skiing Soldier - pre-Theater War under Denmark against Sweden.

1785 - Infantryman - pre-Great Northern War under Denmark against Sweden.

1808 - Coast Guard Officer - Napoleonic Wars under Denmark.

1845 - Infantryman - pre-First Schleswig War under Sweden against Germany.

1855 - Infantryman - during the Crimean War (Sweden-Norway debated joining the UK and France against Russia).

1905 - Hunter - preparing for wars of independence against Sweden.

1914 - Engineer Officer - First World War.

1940 - Infantry Officer - Second World War.

#historical hetalia #hetalia #aph norway #hws norway #damn this took a long time #if you haven't heard much from me the last three days it's because I was studying and doing this #had this idea ages ago but never did it because: very time-consuming :P #but now I did it!! #SNL (store norske leksikon) has this great illustration of all these uniforms and it is inspiring every time I look at it #and then norgeshistorie.no posted a new article about militarization in Norway during the union with Denmark and I had to do the project #we all know how much I like drawing uniforms and historical clothing 😔😔😔 #even bought a book about historical clothing this spring - for references #but it's a bit confusing so might get another one if I see a good one #I do love the historical asks I get because then I get to nerd out about all the cool history I know 👀 #I have mentioned before but; Norway was perhaps /the/ most militarized country in Europe during the 1600s #there are a lot of stories from towns and villages nearby about the results of this #anyway; hope everyone enjoys Norway in uniforms!! 😁 #I am sure some minor details will be inaccurate but I tried

[enbysiriusblack]

bartylily hcs but from a person that doesn't know much about fandom's barty:

in a young achiever's program together. they both hate it. and also practically run it.

prefect rounds together but its lily being annoyed barty is always late, and barty being late because he was getting snacks from the kitchens because he can tell lily is always high during prefect rounds

them both being friends with benefits with one of their best friends (lily & marlene and barty & evan)

lily reading in the library and barty appearing from between bookshelves to tell her spoilers of every book

barty joins the ravenclaw quidditch team one year and lily makes out with him straight after seeing him play (jocks are very much her type)

lily sells essays to other students and she hires barty on to write essays for subjects she doesn't take/doesn't have time for. he requests to be paid in muggle sweets instead of money. she doesn't understand why but accepts. he does it because he just finds essay writing fun but doesn't want to seem like he's doing it for nothing.

barty giving stick n poke tattoos to people and lily ends up getting loads of random doodles all over her arms. she loves it.

the kind of people to come out of an exam after smashing it, walk around the corner to meet each other and dance and scream in celebration. also when they get their exam results as well.

slug club members. all of barty's friends are in slug club so he just goes with them, whilst lily takes a friend that isn't in it (usually remus or emmeline), but they always end up doing weird competitions with each other anyway (trying to eat as much gross food without throwing it up, starting a conga and betting with each other on who will join, competiting to tell the wildest stories that slughorn still belives is true, etc)

#i know next to nothing about fandom barty other than that he usually dates evan rosier and acts a bit like sirius- #so feel free to educate me on any fandom stuff about him/if my characterisation of him is widly inaccurate or anything #bartylily #barty crouch jr #lily evans #marauders era #bartylily headcanons

[tenspontaneite]

First time drawing a Moon 👌

This is likely something that takes place at some unspecified future point in Assembly.

#rain world #looks to the moon #rw overseer #not a final design for her but i was doodling and it vibed so #honestly this is a lil inaccurate she shouldn't be able to support herself standing upright unpowered #maybe she's holding onto something with the hand behind her idk #another bit of rebar #yeah let's go with that #even though the position is wrong for it #my art #rough and sketchy #Assembly

[aldermos]

I've seen a few posts on my dash about the idea of Amy's attempt to fix Surge only resulting in Surge somehow making her worse (aka corrupting her), and I feel there could be potential behind that scenario. What about you?

🙏 OKOK so I've seen a couple & i absolutely love the idea I won't even lie

(hc) but i very much think of Amy as stubbornly good and firm in her beliefs (shes based herself all on heroism, esp with the resistance and all 😭). Surge would definitely struggle to change Amy for the worse; especially since i consider Surge to be the weaker one of the two when it comes to morals and alike.

I personally dig the hc scenario where Surge is slowly melting away her anger and hatred (w/ Amy being doting and patient SLOW BURN 100K WORDS 30+ CHAPS until they inevitably hold hands) but this is more wishful thinking, i definitely see the canon panning out with them hating each other (especially after the whole forest fire)

+ the panel from the recent IDW issue where Amy is like we aren't forcing you to be part of the resistance or anything and Surge is like 'huh 🤔' IDK IDK i think Surge cracks first

HOWEVER, Amy letting loose and being a delinquent of sorts after giving up 'fixing' Surge, is something i would love to see for the fun of it.

It might be super ooc but imagine Amy just becomes tired of being a hero and cracks THEN decides the next best thing now is fighting random bots or ppls w/ Surge 😭 and the resistance is just like wtf 😭 LMAO (also imagine a tag team surge / amy vs sonic, it will never happen but it's both funny and interesting to think about)

Regardless, there's a bunch of potential dynamics with this. I'm liking the dynamic Surge brings w/ the resistance (like Whisper and her, it's so good especially if we mix in Tangle) (consider: whispangle jump surge) THERE'S so much potential for fights, connections, verbal arguments... the drama is crazy.

Sorry, this is a bit long. But thank you for the ask, i really hope the canon timeline will give us more of their dynamic 🙏

(TLDR: i do believe corrupt amy has potential, but i personally lean towards redemption surge 🙏)

#idw sonic #idw sonic 67 #surgamy #surge the tenrec #amy rose #thank you for the ask i went on a bit of a tangent i apologize #i do need to see them fighting though that is a MUST #if i said anything inaccurate please let me know my memory has been failing me a lot lately #corrupt amy is def much more interesting though i wont lie because surge redemption is kinda more relaxed #amy going bad will have everyone confused as hell im crying #thanks again #asks #alex :] rtz #its three am but my brainrot persists