#These are very much me working out how to use fresco

[ocdelecterble]

Air Fryer/Toaster Oven Huevos Rancheros (medium spoons)

I'll start by saying that I got the Ranchero sauce and refried beans with dinner from a Mexican restaurant. I'll also say that I'm very, very white. I love Mexican food, and I've been blessed with Mexican friends willing to share authentic recipes with me, but I'm not gonna claim this as an authentic recipe. It is fucking delicious though. Also, it's naturally gluten free! Corn tortillas shouldn't have gluten, and you don't have to spend extra for the gf label!

I only have a toaster oven/air fryer (not the kind of air fryer with the basket) and a microwave to work with, and limited energy that's been getting worse. I had eggs to use, so here we go.

Some methods like foil lining is optional. If you wanna wash a baking sheet, I ain't gonna stop you. My eggs leaked and got a little stuck. Foil made cleanup easy. I'm just trying to survive. I use a lot of disposable things for meal prep because washing just takes too much out of me. My plumbing don't even work properly and I have to wash in a trickle of water. You do you. The idea is the same, and if you're like me, it'll save you some spoons by giving you ideas, I hope. Good luck and enjoy.

Ingredients:

Corn tortillas

Eggs

Refried beans

Ranchero sauce

Jalapeño slices (optional. I used these bc the Ranchero sauce was very thin. And I really love jalapeños.)

Cotija/queso fresco

Tajin (optional, to taste)

Directions:

Toast the tortillas on a foil lined and honestly probably greased baking sheet (don't overdo it like I accidentally did. I got distracted for a whole 5 seconds 😡 just crisp them a little, on both sides.)

Spread your beans on the tortillas. Don't ask how much. Feel it with your heart. I put a thin layer, but made sure there was enough bean to taste it without making the tortillas mushy. You can add your jalapeños now if you want them!

Crack your clean eggs (yep, I wash them! People have been touching them) on top of your bean painted tortillas. Sprinkle some tajin if you wanna.

Bake/air fry at 325⁰ until your eggs meet your doneness. Keep a close watch. It goes fast. I think mine were done in 5 min. I also think I let them rest, just to ensure the white wasn't snotty 🤢

Take out carefully, pour on your Ranchero sauce, to taste.

Sprinkle on your cheese, and maybe some extra tajin.

Don't burn yourself as you inhale these because they taste so good.

#foodporn #food #mediumspoons #huevos rancheros #eggs #Mexican #breakfast #brunch #my recipe #beans #tortillas #gluten free #jalapeños

[thekrows-nest]

Omggg Yes absolutely. He'd definitely be looking into art from his culture and be trying to mimic it, do his own take on it, and even try out traditional methods. Totally canon.

It gets better. If the components work together Krow could do a fusion.

'Fresco, the Italian word for fresh, is a form of mural painting in which earth pigments are painted directly on fresh, wet, lime plaster. As the plaster dries, a chemical process bonds the pigment and plaster together.'

"Kumkuma is a powder used for social and religious markings in India. It is made from turmeric or any other local materials. The turmeric is dried and powdered with a bit of slaked lime, which turns the rich yellow powder into a red color."

I have no idea whether this organic material is considered a mineral pigment after addition of the mineral lime, it is probably resistant to the strong alkali of the lime as that's used to change the colour, but I have no idea whether it would powder off.

However I bet Krow wonders, and is about to test all that with some turmeric that lost its flavour and leftover bags of lime pilfered from a building site. If he doesn't like it he can whitewash over it.

It's very useful for hiding or explaining recent plaster work. 😏

I also know the exact use for this medium for maximum cultural and personal significance... It is like madhubani painting but not quite.

Broooo I didn't know of this. This is super cool!

Yeah once Krow delves more into looking into his own culture's art and methods, I could see him coming across this, and doing some art experiments.

Krowspiracy be teaching me (and my other viewers with answering this ask lol) some things.

Probably in general he does often recycle stuff into pigment if he can't get another use out of it. I do remember having a class where we needed to make an art piece derived wholly from pigments we could make from stuff we found at home. My not being well versed in how to do it, nor having much stuff I could scrounge up, it was not an amazing painting lmao.

But yes. This all is very on brand for Krow.

#krow asked and answered #about krow #the krow's nest

[isablooo]

Aaaa!!! forgive me, I simply couldn't pick one... if you'd prefer to separate out the answer per character, please feel free to do so! Heehee 🙈💦

Assana, ✂️🍩🌺

Umbra, 🎹🍀🥊

And for both Tatiana and Clemence, ❤️💼

Thank you for all the questions Bee, I'm beyond happy to get to talk about my OCs hehe!!!

Assana:

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Hmm this might be getting into spoiler territory but let's just say, when things started to change in her home town.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Crabs. She is deathly afraid of them (but she loves how they taste in dishes...). Also hair bands. Do NOT get her to tie her hair up unless you're her father. In all seriousness she is not too keen on Willow at first but i wouldn't call him her arch nemesis- Assana is just a hater at heart but doesn't have a rival LOL

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Assana doesn't have a love interest atm, shes just a peculiar lil guy. But she's no stranger to having crushes, especially on physically stronger and more confident girls!

Umbra:

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

This emoji choice is a fun coincidence as Umbra's hobbies are in fact the pianoforte and the organ. She's fascinated by mortal arts because that's something previously unknown to her as a goddess. The idea of a 'hobby' itself is a very mortal conception but now that shes in an earthly body she can't help but indulge in them.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

This one is hard because Umbra is such an old character 😭 I must've been 12 or 13 when i first made her. Originally she wore gothic lolita fashion and had twintails which was most definitely came from my interest in lolita fashion at that age (I desperately wanted to wear it but was too young to buy any myself). She was a bit younger and her personality was very different then too, a lot more cheeky! Eventually she pivoted to a more mature, femme fatale aesthetic and that was likely inspired by Lust from FMA (the manga) if I had to guess. Umbra's personality isn't particularly femme fatale-ish at all but she definitely has that aesthetic- she has a more of an anachronistic/modern look to her clothing style compared to the other characters which I think helps to make her appear more uncanny and out of place, as though shes from a different plain of existence. I'm trying to juxtapose this with inspo from faded/desaturated Minoan frescoes for the murals in her castle and for her makeup- she is at once ancient and brand new. Memento mori imagery is also a huge inspo for her whole aesthetic.

Currently I'm particularly inspired by Ichiro Tsuruta's illustrations for Umbras' sleek look:

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

She loves to play music, to explore new mortal fashions, and to reward her loyal subjects with boons. She is loth to supplicate to anyone.

Tatiana and Clemence:

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

I think both Clemence and Tatiana would say their wedding. But individually:

Clemence- One summer when her and Séverine were very little children and made perfumes together by filling jars with petals and water. It didn't smell great but it was fun! She misses that childish joie de vivre and spending time with her cousin

Tatiana- first using a cross bow with her father!

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Neither Clem and nor Tatiana currently work! Tatiana used to be a huntress in her village, Crescențiu, as part of their elite team of hunters but after she married Clem they've basically been getting by on Clem's ancestral family wealth. The family have been around for centuries so there's not much of that left and castle de shoulières is completely in disrepair since they can't afford servants or upkeep... Tatiana is really handy and spends a lot of time try to do DIY upkeep of the castle. She will also occasionally do odd jobs for people for cash, especially when she travels in to the city.

#ask #beedablogs #long post #search for quintessence #assana fjordland #umbra #tatiana of crescentiu #clemence de shoulieres #tatiana #oc #ask game #original character #ichiro tsuruta #severine's perfumery

[timpac-capstone]

Week 10

I finally did another digital drawing, this time using Adobe Fresco on an iPad Air 2. This piece was actually way more relaxing to draw than the last time I tried drawing digitally on Krita using my roommate's touchscreen laptop because nothing was glitching out. Everything worked perfectly this time and the Apple pencil felt very intuitive in my hand. I still struggled to get my line work to look nice and I'm not sure if the process in which I colored and shaded my drawing was the way most people do it but after finishing this piece I walked away wanting to do more digital art which is a victory in itself.

When I walked out of Manga in New York I finally understood the importance of how the presentation of an art piece can add to the overall experience of the audience member. This was a quick sketch I did in Adobe Fresco of how I was planning to display my animation. I'm thinking of getting one of those old TV carts that I would often see in elementary school where it had a big CRT TV that was hooked up to a VCR. The VCR is just for display because I'm not sure how to put my animation onto a VHS tape and even if I did it doesn't really add anything but I was planning on displaying my animation on the CRT TV. The reason the setup is like this is because this is the same setup that the two brain cells have when they are watching Dillon's embarrassing memories. I will also have two bags that will be labeled Embarasing Memories and Good Memories, after the audience member is done watching my animation they will write one happy memory and one embarrassing memory on an index card/cassette tape and throw them into their respective bag. I'm not 100% sold on this idea but it is a good start.

My professor recommended that I watch more animated short films that weren't just from previous alumni to broaden my horizons in terms of storytelling in a short animation and the way animation is used as well as its quality. I saw 10 animated short films but I'll only talk about the ones that stood out to me starting with This Actually Happens A Lot by Tom Law. I remember my professor asked me to explain why I love animation so much and I showed her the transformation sequences from Ben 10 (2005) and I just said "I mean just look at that". But she didn't see the same thing I did and said I needed to look deeper for the reason and I feel this short gave me that answer. Animation makes the unnatural feel natural without needing to explain why it is the way it is. In this short, we see that the male character's social anxiety is causing him to stick from wall to wall and be suspended in thin air. Obviously, this doesn't happen in real life but I didn't question it, I accepted immediately that this is how this world works and because of that I'm more in tune with the author's message instead of fighting the way he presented it, creating a much more enjoyable watch. If this was live-action I would be more interested in how they did the effect rather than what the point of this character being suspended in mid-air is supposed to represent in the first place.

Resilience by Yunie Choi gave me a new perspective on the horrors of war and life after death. They used animation to do a timelapse of a decaying corpse over the course of several hundred years and it is quite beautiful to see how life moves on without you. The use of colors and interesting animal designs really add to the beauty of this animation.

This guy, Manu Mercurial, does a lot of YouTube tutorials for animation but I haven't seen his animated projects in full before. I thought it would be topical for me since we are both interested in the subject of memories. He very much took a very different approach from what I was thinking of doing but I still think it was a good watch to see how people visualize revisiting their old memories

I like Afternoon Class by Osro for the same reason I like This Actually Happens A Lot, I don't question why this kid's head turns into several heavy objects but I have an immediate connection to it because I understand the feeling of trying to stay awake in class. Also, the use of sound effects is excellent in this short.

I put Forget Me Not by The Lonely Star Studio on here because it shows that even with terrible voice acting and mic quality I can still appreciate the animation of this short which has also been a huge stressor.

Bounty by Arrowmi is on here because it has the opposite problem of Forget Me Not it has amazing voice acting but the art style and animation are pretty rough. It's not bad but it's not super pretty to look at either. However, it was still able to tell an intense story of an ex-bounty hunter and suck me into the world despite its noticeable drawbacks.

Going back through my old script ideas, I had this one part where at the climax of the story the main character would wake up in a car sitting next to his dad. He's in shock because his dad is supposed to be dead and yet here he is just driving nonchalantly, the main character knows this is a memory but he decides to ask his dad a bunch of questions to see if his dad would still be proud of him if he were to meet him as an adult. I feel that this entire scene I made was inspired by this Spiderman story I found 2 years ago on Instagram in which Peter gets 5 minutes to talk to Uncle Ben after years of being Spiderman, this story really connected with me when I first found it because what I want the most in life is to just ask my dad "am I doing good". There are a lot of things that I struggle with; not being masculine enough, I'm almost 23 and still haven't had a girlfriend, and I constantly wonder if I picked the right career choice. I don't know if my dad struggled with the same things but I assume that he didn't and I often feel that if he were to meet me as an adult he would be disappointed. I know that most likely he would say that he is proud of me despite all my shortcomings because that is what parents are supposed to do but the fact that I will never get that answer kills me. I decided to read all 3 parts of this story to get a better idea as to what led up to this Uncle Ben interaction and it was pretty good, if you watched Spider-Man 2 it hits the same story beats. Lately, I've been thinking of scrapping the two-brain cell idea and instead animating the car scene I described earlier on its own.

REFLECTION:

I'm really happy that I finally found a groove into digital art and I'm hoping this will finally jumpstart some animation this week. I'm also glad that I watched all those animated short films, they all had their unique quirks and drawbacks that you don't normally get to see in professionally animated TV shows. I also want to explore the idea of being able to talk to a dead relative for a brief period of time before you never see them again.

#Youtube #animation #digital art #pokemon #trapinch #animated short film #spiderman

[boliv-jenta]

Nico x f!reader x OMC

Part of the Kitten Universe

WC:1250

Warnings: Swearing. Mild drug use. M/M action. Smut. Double penetration.

Nico's Birthday

"You shouldn't waste your birthday!" Angelo nearly spilled his drink as he gestured to Nico. "It's the one day when everything can be about you! I love my birthday."

"Of course you do. You're a diva." Nico shot at him with a smile in his tone. 

"A diva? Moi?" Angelo held a freshly manicured hand to his chest. The other was clutching a glass of very expensive champagne he'd insisted on buying. The Egyptian cotton towel wrapped around his head wobbled as he spoke. His open silk robe, that matched his boxers, slipped further from his muscular shoulders as he turned away from Nico in mock offence. 

"You don't think I'm a diva, do you, Cariño?" He was facing you now, his free hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. 

"No, I don't think you're a diva….I think you are THE diva!" You laughed crawling into his lap. 

"Fresco." He grinned against your chest as he peppered kisses over your skin.

"He's right though, Nico. What else do you want for your birthday?"

Nico had explained that he didn't like all the attention and fuss. After a little back and forth and a cajoling blow job, you managed to get a few ideas for this little soirée. His favourite meal was prepared, paired with his favourite wine. Angelo had brought his favourite strain of weed. You have picked his favourite outfits for both of you. For Angelo, a simple pair of black silk boxers. For you, a see-through pink lace bodysuit with strategically placed embroidered flowers. 

The whole evening had been lovely, if not a little subdued. Nico had insisted that you two pamper yourself while you watched a movie. It was like a sweet little sleepover. The energy was innocent and fun. Not one hint of anything sexual. Which was a far cry from a usual night at Nico's.

"Come on. There must be something." You pleaded. 

"I want to have sex with you at the same time as Angelo." He confessed. 

"But we do that all the time…" it took a second for you to catch his meaning. "Oh, at the same time!"

Angelo was taking another puff of weed as the notion dawned on you. "I'm going to need some of that." Sealing his lips over yours, Angelo shared his hit with you. 

Catching up with the conversation Angelo chimed in. "You want us to…? Baby, come here. You're going to need more."

Placing the lit end of the joint between his teeth his blew more smoke back into your mouth. Smoking was never a habit you liked but you liked this just fine.

The weed and the champagne worked pretty well to relax you. Nico's skilled hand massaging your back helped even further. When you turned over on the bed, you felt like a marshmallow being swallowed by a cloud of marshmallows. As you floated around, you watched Nico and Angelo lazily making out. Their tongues darted out to meet before their lips did. It was still so erotic, even after all this time. Four strong hands tether you to the bed. Two of them caressed your breast and the others worked your pussy open. Two, three, four fingers slid in as another hand slid over your clit. Lips met your lips, your skin, your nipples, the soft, hot flesh of your cunt. Everything was just a haze. Until Nico lay in front of you.

"Ready, Kitten? We'll go slow. You took my fingers so well. Take my cock for me now." 

As soon as you nodded Nico eased himself in. No matter how much he prepared you, you were always tight. The heat of you warmed the generous amount of lube he'd used. He could get used to a fuss on his birthday if it felt like this.

"Oh.. good girl. Always so tight for me. I'm going to give Angelo a turn." He eased out again. Missing you the second he did.

"Do you want my cock?" Angelo breathed into your ear as his hand wrapped around your throat. 

"Yes, please." You panted softly.

"Yes, what?" He gave a gentle squeeze.

Oh, it was that Angelo, tonight. The one that gets so worked up he has to take control of his pleasure. "Yes, Papi."

"Papi? I thought I was your Daddy?" Nico teased biting your jaw.

Angelo bottomed out in one thrust, leaving you clawing at Nico's bare chest. "Calm down, Kitten. You can take him."

Angelo withdrew almost completely before slamming in four or five more times. "Yeah, you can take my cock."

Once Angelo withdrew to calm himself, Nico slipped his fingers back inside with even more lube. The warmth of you around his fingers made his dick twitch. 

Reaching through your open legs he wrapped his fingers around Angelo's length, squeezing him harshly. "Come on, Papi. Fuck her with me." 

Angelo swelled in his hand as Nico lined him up. He notched his head at your entrance as he lined his own up next to it. The sensation of the two of them vying for entry was strange but definitely not unpleasant. Falling into a rhythm, they almost took turns to dip the head of their cocks inside you. Exciting the nerves at your entrance. At one point they pushed into an inch or two together. The three of you froze. Each lost in your own pleasure. 

"You're doing so well, Kitten. You gonna take some more?" 

Somehow you managed to sink down on them an inch or two. The two of them groaning "Oh, fuck." In unison caused you to giggle uncontrollably. 

"Really, you're speared on both of our cocks. Angelo is practically feral and you are giggling?" Nico laughed incredulously.

"To be fair I'm very high." You managed to get out despite feeling breathless from the giggling and feeling like your lungs were compressed from where they were filling you. The stretch of them was incredible, something you were definitely going to feel tomorrow. 

"Guess we better try and sober you up." The smirk on Nico's lips disappeared as he kissed you deeply. Nico's plan to sober you up consisted of urging Angelo to help him fuck you into oblivion. The stretch of them. Their warm bodies pressed into yours. Their words alternating between sweet praise and filthy utterings. Their thrusts getting harder and deeper as you bloomed around them. The push of them against every spot inside you. It was all too much as you soaked them over and over. 

Angelo wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you close. His hot breath fanned your neck as he groaned. "You take us so well. So well." Unable to hold back any longer, he began to jack rabbit into you.

It was yours and Nico's time to moan in unison. "Angelo!"

Nico could barely breathe. The feeling of Angelo's length pumping his cum inside you. The warm, wet grip of you. The feeling of both of you caring for him. It was too much as he came. He took in every detail of your face, the expression of sheer bliss as you held them both close. Basking in the glow of bringing them so much pleasure.

It was his birthday. You both had pestered him to allow himself one one more thing. Laying there with your worn-out form wrapped around him, he allowed himself one indulgence. He let himself have that one thought he would never let himself think. It whispered inside his head and screamed in his heart.

I love you.

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Pedro's birthday celebration #nico house comes with a bird #nico x f!reader x omc

[awrldalone]

27th October 2023, 8.51pm

On a plane to Venice. The two seats next to me are empty: I have space for my long black coat, for my bag, and for my legs. As soon as the light for the safety belt will be turned off I will move to the window seat, to look at the dark earth, the clouds, the sky. The city looked like molten magma while departing, golden and black in the night. No matter how many flights I take, I always marvel at the physics behind it all; at times it feels as simple and mundane as taking a bus, but once I feel the wheels of the plane jumping off the asphalt I am filled of childish wonder.

On Wednesday I had my first Art History test, on Ancient Art. The course has been fairly disappointing so far, and I often have to remind myself it is just the beginning, just a first look at that part of history – but it bothers me, it always has, when things are not done well. What is the point of studying Greek ceramics for a few hours and then moving on? What is the point of barely scratching the surface on sculpture, on architecture, on iconography? I want to dive my fingers into every topic, I want to know everything, about everything.

The test was easy. We even corrected it afterwards, and I only made a few mistakes. One was calling a canthar a kylix. I knew it was not a kylix but my brain could not find the correct word, and so I went with the closest thing in terms of use. A goblet to drink is a goblet to drink. It was the last thing I wrote down before leaving and waiting outside of the class. The other was about the temples in Olympia: while I had understood that Zeus's temple had been built on top of Hera's old temple, formally replacing the cult of the goddess of marriage and family, in reality the two deities were worshipped simultaneously. 

Ca. and I went to the library to work on our presentation on Caravaggio's the Cardsharps. It was too warm in there, so I took off my sweater while flipping through the pages of multiple monographies on the artist. There's not much literature surrounding the Cardsharps, because the original was discovered very recently, and because there is not much to say about it. Its material history is just as interesting as the painting itself, but it is longer and more obscure, and therefore scholars have often opted to gloss over what the eyes can see in favor of figuring out how the painting got in the hands of its last owner. What I find particularly interesting is the amount of copies of it that exist, a bit over twenty, all extremely accurate and all old. 

I found the first known description of the painting by checking the bibliography of a book I was reading. It dates a couple of decades after the death of Caravaggio, when the painting was no longer in the hands of its first owner. I translated it in French, slowly. 

The library was packed, so I ended up having to stand next to a window, my laptop on the sill to be able to charge it. Ca. was sitting behind me, our backs facing each other's. 

We were supposed to have another course afterwards, but once we got to the lecture hall someone told us the professor would not be coming. A., T., L., and I decided we would go thrifting, but we ended up going to 59 Rivoli because it was open. I always see its bright door when walking past it, but I did not know what it was until my friends decided we should go in. It's a squatted building where, cyclically, artists set up their atelier and work on their paintings or sculptures in public. You're allowed to quietly walk and observe, to support the artist or just watch respectfully. The walls are covered in modern-day frescos, and each floor looks different. My favorites were the works of Cynthia Pedrosa, squared, cubic, bedlams of saturated but dark colors. The size of some of the paintings covered half of the wall. 

We ended up having dinner at a crêperie near our university, fifteen minutes or so from the Pantheon. It's small, with a tiny room up some narrow stairs with the walls covered in pictures, portraits and magazines. There's only a few tables, and we took up the last one, in the corner. I got a galette ratatouille gruyere, with some cider; T. got ham and gruyere; L. went for spinach and gruyere. We also had dessert – a simple crêpe with sugar and cinnamon – all for five euros fifty. 

For some reason we ended up talking about love. T. had confessed to L. and me that thing are not going great with his boyfriend. The long distance thing is not working as well as it used to for them, and as he was talking I understood what he was saying. We were on the metro, the only ones talking in front of the sliding doors. 

Last year I would have not understood T. and his problems. I would have said that a few seconds with M. justified a week, a month, two months apart. Now I am not so sure about it, I am doubting everything, but the only moment when I release my tension and let my muscles relax is when I'm in his arms, and the only place where I sleep peacefully is his bed, with him next to me. Yesterday I wrote down, in order not to forget it, "stiffening love". We asked ourselves if love lasts. I don't think so anymore. It transforms in different things. It can turn sour, or it can acquire a better, richer taste. I doubt my grandparents feel anything similar to the way they did when they first met: love starts as a bud, it blooms in a flower and matures into fruit. You either make jam out of it or you let it fall to the ground, like my parents. 

I'm not sure where M. and I stand. I don't know where T. and his boyfriend stand. Perhaps it is not that simple.

After paying, we took the metro again and we went to A.'s place. It's a big apartment, with wooden floors, a metal fireplace, crown moulding. A. lives there with her sister, they each have their own room, a separate kitchen and a proper living room. It was the second time I went there, and this time it was clean, in order. There were no boxes lying around, no clothes piled up or shoes thrown around. They bought a beautiful round table, a silver lamp, they organize their books. 

Le. and H. joined us a few minutes after we arrived. I'm still on the fence about them, I still cannot make up my mind about them, H. especially. I do not like the people he hangs out with. Le. on the other hand is always so bitter when we are in a group, but every time we talk alone we always have such good conversations. The first time we went home together I ended up talking about my parents for half of the bus ride, and he ended up talking about his for the rest of it.

Le. and I ended up leaving at around two, and I got home at around three. I told myself there would be no use sleeping if I had to wake up at six, and so I started packing my suitcase, folding clothes, cleaning. I made myself some toast and a coffee. And then I fell asleep at five, on top of my comforter, still wearing my clothes. I woke up at ten with the sun in my eyes. I missed class.

Last night I went to a Black Country New Road concert. It was insanely amazing; they're the only ones capable of finding rhythm in cacophonies, the only ones able to make such a mess sound good. 

I made a friend. I was there alone, and I saw a guy looking around, avoiding everyone's eyes. I asked myself if he was alone or waiting for someone, and I walked near him. I stopped myself at first, but then I told him - I know it's weird, but are you alone here too? - and he said yes and I felt the knot in my chest dissolve. I am not scared of being alone, but I was scared of his reaction. We ended up exchanging instagram handles, singing and jumping together at times, and watching quietly at others. The band played a new song, they said it was a work in progress and asked us not to sing.

After the concert he had a friend waiting for him. I only had the rain and L.'s address. 

I spent the night with my friends again. We wanted to go clubbing but there was nothing near, and the only bar that looked promising was boring. We went bak to L.'s place and played a French card game, mixing vodka with violet syrup. I find it too sweet, but the color is gorgeous, like an amethyst.

This time I got home alone. I misse day stop and got off at the one afterwards, but it was not that big of a deal because I had to walk anyway.

And now the plane is about to land, and I am back in Venice, and it's already been almost two months since I left. 

-c.

#diary

[skyflyinginaction]

X/1999 Volume 3 Illustration Comments 

1992 Monthly Asuka August Issue, Title Page Illustration

Paper: Kent Block

Lines: PIGMA Graphic ink pen

Color: Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink, India Ink, Liquitex

The aim behind this illustration was to use all the space provided by the two-page spread in order to draw a very large close-up. And to top it off, I was bold enough to do the shading using just India Ink (laughs].

2002 Monthly Asuka April Issue, Cover Illustration

This is a relatively recent piece, so you can see the influence on my drawing style from my work on another series. Her head is large, plus her arms and legs seem short... [laughs]. She's a little plump too.. [laughs]. Since this was an illustration of Kotori and I wanted to give it a pure and innocent atmosphere, she's holding a white lily. I think I did most of the colors with Copic markers. I always draw Kotori with a very faint and soft touch, so here too the lines are drawn with sepia instead of black.

2002 Monthly Asuka February Extra Issue, X Comic Collection 03 Illustration

This is the illustration of Kotori with the blue headdress I was talking about before. (Ed. Note: See the illustration comment for page 3 of X 3-in-1 Edition, volume 2.] One mistake I made here was that I drew the bird too realistically (laughs]. The background was colored in gray tones so that the feathers in her hand would look like snow. I mostly used color ink for this one; the only place I used Copic markers were her eves. I also used Liquitex for the headdress. I wanted to convey the rounded texture of the beads, and Liquitex is the best thing to use for items like that

1999 Monthly Asuka June Issue. Title Page Illustration

The image that I had in mind while creating this illustration was that of a female dancer performing a ceremonial offertory dance. I used acrylic gouache for the wisteria flowers. The main lines are drawn in sepia ink. I usually use sepia for inking the outlines of characters with pale color profiles. since the lines stand out too much when they are drawn in black In addition to Hinoto, Kakyo and Kotori also have sepia outlines. Yuto is the only exception: although he has a light color profile, he looks good with crisp outlines, so I often draw him with black ink.

2000 Monthly Asuka May Issue, Title Page Illustration

"Woman with a Black Veil": what an obvious title [laughs]! I always wanted to draw this kind of image. I thought the dark veil wouldn't really suit Karen; Kanoe was the only character who would look good with something like this. I drew the veil thinking that it kind of looked like a wing. I used color ink for the background and I purposely shaded it in a way that lacked uniformity

2002 Monthly Asuka October Issue, Title Page Illustration

You can see Sorata's familiar here, so this is an illustration for the second half of the story. I actually enjoy drawing creatures and inanimate objects more than people. I wanted to do something with the familiar sitting on his hand like a pet. Ohkawa told me to do an illustration with Sorata wearing street clothes. And thats how this image came about. Sorata was drawn using Copic markers, the background was done with a thin layer of modeling paste, and the shadow was drawn with color ink

1995 October, X Volume 7 Cover illustration Paper: BB Kent Lines: PIGMA Graphic ink pen Color: Acrylic gouache. Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink. modeling paste

This is supposed to be an image of Sorata in front of a wall with lots of graffiti and other things drawn on it. But there aren't a lot of variations possible when the theme color is yellow. I always have trouble coming up with items for light backgrounds [laughs].

1993 November, X2 Music Video, Comic Cover Illustration 

Paper: BB Kent

Lines: PIGMA Graphic ink pen

Color: Acrylic gouache. Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink, modeling paste. poster color

I wanted this illustration to have the atmosphere of a wall fresco. I used gold poster color to ink in the decorative elements and keywords.

[Ed. Note: Poster color is also known as "poster paint" or "tempera paint."]

1999 Monthly Asuka October Issue, Title Page Illustration 

This piece was drawn mostly with Copic markers. I wanted the bandages, blood and cherry blossoms to really stand out, so I colored the background black, but since Subaru only wears black clothes the illustration became completely black [laughs]. I used different media to color the clothes and background in order to distinguish the textures. The background was done with an airbrush. I created the cherry blossoms using acrylic gouache and then sprayed over that again with the airbrush.

2000 Monthly Asuka October Issue, Title Page Illustration

A lot of Subaru's illustrations have the same atmosphere, like this one [laughs] I had to include cherry blossoms--well, actually, I didn't have to include them flaughs], but I wanted to put in as many as possible. The composition would've looked slightly crowded if the branches of the cherry blossoms were prominent, so I wanted to make the background as dark as possible. Subaru is still wearing ceremonial clothes, so I thought he'd look good against a black background. I used a sepia tone for the main outlines, and an airbrush for the background to give it a soft touch

2002 October X TV Anime Volume 9 DVD Box Illustration

From the beginning, I had decided on a black background for this illustration, but I had a hard time trying to get Seishiro to stand out with his black clothes. In desperation. I placed a sliding screen behind him and had the Pick background run behind that. As a result. here's more white in this illustration than black Which is something I regret, As for the round shapes that appear in the DVD box illustrations. in this one I drew the moon on Subaru's side, and in Seishiro..the blade of the sickle isn’t exactly round, but it's meant to represent that shape.

1996 Monthly Asuka March Issue, Title Page Illustration 

Paper: Wood-free paper.

Lines PIGMA Graphic ink pen Color Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink, Copic marker

I started using Dr. Ph. Martin's ink and Copic markers together around the time that I drew this. I just wanted to make it as cute as possible, as you can probably tell [laughs]. She's the only character who I can draw really cute illustrations of.

1996 June, X Volume 8, Cover Illustration Paper: BB Kent Lines: PIGMA Graphic ink pen Color: Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink, Copic marker, Colortone

Orange was the color theme for this illustration, so I had her wear orange- hued plastic clothes that I had always wanted to try out. It's just like taking photos for a magazine. 

(Ed. Note: Colortone is a type of colored screentone; it's also sometimes called "overlay.”)

2002 February X TV Anime Volume 1 DVD Box Illustration

This is the illustration for the first volume of the DVD box set. Ohkawa had asked me to do a single piece that would wrap all the way around the box. Plus, the front and back of the box had to feature the characters who played a major role in that DVD volume. I personally wanted to incorporate a round shape as a theme, so I included that in all the illustrations as well. For this volume, that shape is a gear wheel.

2002 Monthly Asuka May Issue, Calling Card Illustration (Kamui) 2002 May. Movic Calling Card Illustration (Subaru)

The two halves of this illustration were used separately for calling cards offered by Movic and Asuka. If you got hold of both cards and put them together, you'd get the full image. Kamui and Subaru are often depicted together. They almost seem like brothers in a sense, so it's an easy combination to draw. Although they both have black hair, Subaru has a darker, more pure-black hair color. This is the same in both the manga and anime; ever since Tokyo Babylon Subaru has been drawn without any gloss to his hair [laughs]. Another character who has pretty black hair is Arashi. 

[Ed. Note: Movic is one of Japan's largest producers of anime-related merchandise.]

1993 X Calendar Illustration Paper: Arches Lines: Holbein Color Ink (Special Black) Color: Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink

I colored Kanoe's stockings using an airbrush to give them a realistic look, but the effect turned out to be far more striking than I expected (laughs]. I like the lecherous atmosphere of this illustration [laughs].

1997 January. X Volume 9. Cover Illustration Paper: BB Kent Lines: PIGMA Graphic ink pen Color: Acrylic gouache. Dr. Ph. Martin's Color Ink. Lumocolor Liquitex

 I used lots of Liquitex for this one since I wanted to give it a shiny look. like the insulation material on wiring. This image is set during the last minutes of adjustments before the Beast was completed.

#x1999 #x #clamp #kamui shirou #kotori monou

[seashellblue]

The big art dump.

I'm returning a lender iPad soon so I figured I'd treat tumblr as an image hosting website and throw all my recent artwork on here instead.

Theoretically it would be betting for metrics if I spread out my posts instead of doing them all at once... but I don't really plan on becoming a social media influencer anyway and tumblr was supposed to be the one place left that free of all that stuff lol

I'm just happy with the fact I can store these images here ~

Full explanation of the lore n' stuff under the cut!

1-2 - Misc. Drawings

Just a landscape test to get used to a new program (Fresco) and a still life referenced from a photo of some flowers in a vase.

3 - The Initiates

Mostly-undeveloped urban fantasy story, I think it's got a killer group of main character but I can't seem to find a good villain to pit them against or plot beats to work through. Currently still using placeholder names too, from left to right are Silver (monster hunter), Gold (witch), Green (werewolf) and Red (vampire).

4-5 - Ocean of Green

If you can't tell by the Hollow Knight bug in image 5, Ocean of Green is basically me just indulging in my love of Hollow Knight's entire artistic direction and style. Although there's also a bit of Sky: Children of the Light and Kuneho in there as well.

Plot's pretty weak, and that's probably the main reason why I don't feel the motivation to nail down some character designs I actually want to work with. Everything above just doesn't hit the right spot, at least for now.

Image 4 is mostly the twins Wisteria (ponytail) and Gahnia (no ponytail). Then 5 is more Wisteria (ponytail + the design with antlers), more Gahnia (anything with red hair) and another character called Nymphae (five-leaf crown).

6-8 - Crow's Orbit

This was a space opera, mostly combining some of the passing knowledge I heard about Star Wars (never watched it myself), plus a bit of Chinese mythology and a very small pinch of xianxia (once again, don't extensively follow the genre, so only a very small amount of inspiration).

The drawings were mostly me just figuring out the design for the main alien species of the setting, using some secondary characters from the story as a testing ground. Ultimately I'm actually quite happy with what I ended up with. Pictured from left to right are (and you'll have to forgive me for the unpronounceable alien names);

Xaashidean “Ash” (red), and Vivryaahnix "Annex" (blue-white) of the Xilica. A silicon-based species that uses psychic powers to levitate and maintain a constant operating temperature of 500° Celsius.

Yrii-Yhroande "Hira" of the Kyurione, a combination of two lifeforms existing in symbiosis like a herbivorous boar-like animal and a carnivorous plant. Bit like a green sea slug, haha.

Then lastly, Ze'Zreyin "Zevs" of the Varan'ze. Parasitic lifeforms that resemble larva, specialized in consuming and replacing the brains of their ecosystem's lifeforms. That, combined with a mastery of genetic engineering allow the Varan'ze to custom make their bodies to excel at any task. Under normal circumstances, Varan'ze act under a psychic hive mind, with their consciousness thinking of itself as a singular organism - a bit like how we think of ourselves as individuals despite being made of of a near incomprehensible multitude of cells.

9-10 - Burnished / Icosah

Probably one of my most developed worlds from a pure worldbuilding / cultural standpoint, mostly because it's designed more to be a TTRPG setting than for a standalone comic or webnovel. First image is a map of the two habitable continents with the major regions colour-coded, but not labelled... You're not missing out on much the names are all unpronounceable lol

Second image is just a quick doodle of some characters, left one is a weird Aasimar with a name I must omit due to potential future spoilers for a D&D campaign, right one's a Drow called Zinrena Aranriira. The character arc that poor girl goes through, oof...

11-18 - Everyone Loves A Songbird

... You can tell I have a bit of a preference for this one.

Just a heap of character designs with a pair of light doodles / joke drawings at the end. Story's still in early development so they all have placeholder names (this is my excuse for the names being dumb and nonsensical).

First green image is of the story's protagonists, [Half-Moon] (a reserved but kindhearted cleric with a few secrets to hide) and [Devouring Blue] (says he's a bard but seems like they're just a bit too good at martial arts for that to not be a lie). Three images below that are [Half-Moon]'s starting design from the story's beginning, his demon form (the angst is never-ending, he really is the crawling in my crawl of our generation), and an outfit update [Devouring Blue] gets about a third of the way into the story.

Next two are [The Pine Tree], a young king with a few too many enemies and not enough allies to spare, and [Yellow Ribbon], [Devouring Blue]'s estranged older brother.

As for the joke drawings, I know they're a little messy, so I'll clarify that the first one's [Half-Moon] and [The Pine Tree] and the second is [Half-Moon] and [Devouring Blue].

And yeah, that's about it!

#StillLife #doodles #blackandwhite #landscape #digitalart #characterdesign #creaturedesign #photoreference #originalcharacter #dnd #D&D #DungeonsAndDragons #OCs #Fantasy #FantasyArt #FantasyMaps #UrbanFantasy #SpaceOpera #Aliens #Xaashidean #Vivrayaahnix #Yhrii-Yhroande #Ze'Zereyin #Aasimar #Drow #Zinrena Aranriira #sci fi #myart

[forbiddentaako]

Hi!! Just gonna straightup fangirl in your inbox for a sec

What program and brushes do you use for your art?? And how do you do skin and hair so well?? I'm just so in awe. Like everything looks so majestic. It belongs in frescoes painted by the ancient masters holy cheeseballs.

Thank you friend I am weeping this is so sweet holy fuck

I've been doing digital art for 6 years now so practice is definitely a big chunk of how I got good at drawing hair and skin. Recently I have also improved on it because I'm taking a figure painting class and that's helped so much with understanding how to work with paint texture and colors in order to create dimension and make skin and hair look realistic. I put some tips I learned from it in this very long explanation but if anyone wants it I can make a comprehensive list with examples of all the tips I use in digital art from the class.

I don't know if this is what you were expecting but here's the far too long and detailed explanation of everything I do with art dscjbkcbj:

The program I use is procreate, and I exclusively use like 3 brushes for painting stuff.

(moment of silence for my lineart) If you're looking at my older art that has lineart I used to use a modified technical pen for lineart but procreate has since fucked me over and reset my brush settings/changed how the pressure tip works, so I no longer do lineart because I can't figure out how to make the brush go back to how I want it to.

I still use the default technical pen for adding solid blocks of color since it reacts with the fill tool well, and occasionally for flyaway hairs but alas, it doesn't get used as often anymore. I also used to shade with color with the medium hard airbrush when I did lineart, and would do a shadow layer using the overlay setting.

For the pieces that are more of a painting style, those I'll do a very light sketch with the default flat brush, and come back and darken certain areas like the eyelashes/eyebrows/nostrils/mouth opening so they come through most obviously. After that I'll make a layer beneath the sketch with the flat color, usually a more neutral tone so it acts as a guiding point for the shading. Then I just do a clipping mask layer on top and use the flat brush to shade.

The advice I actually listen to from my figure painting professor is to use cooler colors to help them fall back, and warmer colors to help come forward, but that's not cut and dry for skin tones, especially if you're like me and do a bunch of tieflings. In general I first fill in the cheeks/part of the nose with a warm color, the base layer of the shadows with a darker shade of the neutral tone (the shadow color gets super varied tho depending on where on the body it falls, and that variation helps add dimension, the neutral tone just helps to generally block things in), and the broad highlights with a slightly lighter and sometimes more saturated color than the neutral base skin tone.

Ive found for purple characters doing a warm shadow on places with just general dimension, a cooler purple for more intense shadows, and a cool lighter purple/blue for the highlights looks really nice, but it depends on the lighting you're going for.

I think the best advice I now follow from my professor is to remember light gets reflected in the shadows as well on things that have dimension. The most recent example I have is on the drawing of Miriam where her chest is partially visible, there's a reflective light between a medium and dark shadow layer on her tiddy. This effect just adds so much depth and breaks up the shadows so I 10/10 recommend it (usually using a cool color for this is best). When we paint models in class its most noticeable on the underside of the chin, shadow side of legs/arms, and on the chest or stomach fat.

Practicing and studying faces really helps to determine where what tones/values/colors look best, so I definitely recommend doing that because doing 2 paintings a week for class has helped me understand it so much better.

TLDR: Thank you so much and to answer your questions I use procreate and use the flat brush almost exclusively, I just fill in color with the technical pen and fill tool.

#syd rambles #anon asks

[pbandjesse]

We just got home from a winning baseball game! It was an excellent day! Even if my feet hurt again. And now I have blisters so that's a little frustrating but at least those will heal. It's the inside pains I worry about.

I slept alright last night. Waking up went okay. It was a much cooler day and that was awesome. There was hot parts, mostly at the end, but for the majority of the day I was comfy.

James packed me some food to bring with and drove me to the courthouse. They left me a block or so away and that was just fine. They texted me how pretty I looked walking away. Made me feel confident.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen at the courthouse because I was getting dropped off at 745 and the building didn't open until 8. But they just let me in right away, I wasn't even the first person there. But I got through security really fast. I had to take my watch off but nothing else and I went to the check in room.

My barcode I scanned made a horrible alert sound and I got to skip the whole line and they gave me the $15 for the day and told me which room to go wait in.

And that's what I did. I waited. I desperately wanted to be a part of a trial. But that wouldn't happen.

At 930 I did get called back to a courtroom though. It was a beautiful room, with high ceilings and a huge fresco painting and beautiful wood work. It also had a balcony? It was a small room but it felt big.

There were 45 of us and they asked lots of questions. I only had to say yes to one, and I am not sure if that's what made them send me away. But it was still fun getting to be a part of. I hope that the case went well.

I would just be waiting the rest of the day. I read a lot. Ate all my snacks. I got about half way through the book. I watched videos.

At the lunch break I just chilled in the room. I ended up talking to some of the other people. A lot of people dealing with intense medical stuff and family issues, so they couldn't serve a whole trial.

But then the biggest gossip, a woman who was in the courtroom with me had to ask to be let out of serving because the defendant's lawyer was her ex boyfriend!! What are the chances!

After lunch there was some more chaos when they all of a sudden called back half our room who had already been sent away from their courtrooms. Lots of like. What!!! Apparently that was a murder trial that was going to last through the week after next. So that's wild.

But I wouldn't get to find out much. I just tried to be comfortable in my chair. This did not go great. I was shifting and moving all day because my legs didn't fit in the chair correctly. My feet don't always reach the floor solid, they are always like bowing down and so it makes my hips and knees hurt. But sitting criss cross makes my back hurt after a few minutes. So I felt like I was constantly moving around and it sucked.

So when they finally let us go at 330 I texted James and they would head over. Since my body and legs hurt I decided I would walk towards the harbor. And this was a great walk. It made me feel a lot better.

I got to see the constellation and the water. I watched the birds and it was just really nice. I missed being near the harbor a lot.

I met James at the visitor center and we drove home.

When we got back here we actually had some mail!! Still no invite to my own bridal shower. But some other stuff.

We both got washed up and changed. I had a piece of pizza and did my last row of knitting for August. I will probably try to catch up tomorrow at the market.

We left here and walked to the train. I was a little hot. It would be to warm with the sun beating on my for a few hours. But I would be alright.

Riding the train was fine, except we overheard a conversation someone was having and that's how we discovered there was a school shooting and a kid died. And then the two kids in front of us knew him and the woman who told them wasn't speaking very kindly. James got really quiet for a while.

When we got to the stadium things didn't feel so heavy. We waited for Dante and his parents and Brooks at the gate. And it was so nice to see them! And meet Dante's parents, who were lovely. Shorter then expected for how tall Dante is but they were super nice.

And it was a fun game! There were some new players, including one we as re referring to as baseball baby, and he did a great job! He got two points! Runs?

We found me a veggie hotdog which was alright. I was mostly just happy they had them. And James would get me a lemonade that Dante would accidently kick over and get all over my feet but I only lost a little of the actual drink. I was not thrilled about sticky feet and made him go get me napkins.

James dances and screamed and sang. They barely have a voice right now. But it was so sweet seeing them so happy.

I had some great talks with Brooks and with Dante's parents. I talked to his dad about art and my degrees (he's a professor!), and I talked to his mom about fiber arts. She makes quilts! I showed her my temperature blanket and a bunch of my other crafts on Instagram. She was fun to talk to and she gave me some things to look into to learn more about picture quilt making.

I actually found myself watching the game a lot more then normal. And it was fun to feel excited when things happened. Like a bat exploding or someone getting beamed by the ball. But having the game won was the best part.

James was a little tipsy and was excitedly leading us out. We made some bathroom stops. And then walked to the car. Where I sat on James's lap like it was highschool. It was not comfortable for anyone but we did our best and got home in one piece.

Brooks came up to use our bathroom. Let Sweetp and I showed him my fish tanks and then said goodbye. They were going to sleep over but alas. Next time.

And plus I'll see Dante next weekend for our Bach party.

Now we are getting ready for bed. I just took a shower and I am very sleepy. But tomorrow is not a day off yet. I have the market and then I'm going to work at a wedding at night. I hope to get a nap in the middle like I normally do but apparently there is a race going through the city and it may make my life difficult. We will have to see what happens.

For now though I will sleep. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[hauntingthechateau]

Thursday November 2nd

High of 15, scattered showers, sunny, cloudy, windy (64kmh gusts)

Had a breakfast from Paul for breakfast then hit the Cluny at opening! They’ve done some BIG renovations since we were here last, it’s like a whole new museum The new extension is ugly and modern, but they’re using it well. There was a temporary exhibit on in the Roman baths about our use of crystal through the ages which was an interesting thing to focus on! Interesting seeing it pointed out in the contexts of reliquaries, jewelry, game pieces and so many other uses. Neat stuff! Saw lots of great things in the rest of the museum and really appreciated them this time; pottery, jewelry, arms and armour… all great!

There was also a small room showcasing a couple contemporary artists inspired by medieval art which was GREAT!! Especially enjoyed the dance macabre carved onto a large faceted crystal and the recreations of historical paintings and momento mori brushed into smoke residue on the inside of wine glasses!

Grabbed lunch on a whim at a fusion Thai place and had an incredible grilled octopus in curry and sopped it up with a baguette and a glass of cote de rhone. Then church hopping! I should write down the ones I saw so here:

Eglise Saint-Sulpice: Big grand 17th century number with the giant Fountain Saint-Sulpice in front of it. 

Église de Saint-Germain-des-Prés: 11th-12th century church with even older monastery. The church interior is fully painted much with towering vaulted ceilings with the blue ground and gold stars… a lot like Saint Chapelle but off the beaten path, quiet and so bright and vivid. Beautiful restoration work and the windows let in so much light!

Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois: another gothic masterpiece, but so different from the last! This one has all the gothic trappings on the outside with beautiful gargoyles and statues on the facade but inside so much of the medieval has been replaced and painted over… and yet the back of the church is all dark and grungy and medieval! A real opposite to Saint-Germain-des-Pres, but both beautiful.

Eglise de Saint-Eustache: built between 1532 and 1632 this big ole gothic church has a lot in common with Notre Dame from the outside with all its flying buttresses. On the inside its massive and maybe I’ve just seen a lot of churches at this point, but kind of underwhelming? I mean, it was beautiful and had a bunch gothic wallpainting going on, but my phone was dying and maybe I was distracted. Honestly why do none of these French churches have beautiful 14th century frescos and breathtaking altarpieces like the Italians?! There was a Keith Harring altarpiece looking very alone in this church which made me laugh.

Church of Saint-Leu-Saint-Gilles-Parigi: 12th century chapel, gothic but pretty bare inside. Walked in on a group singing hymns and a man solemnly praying to the reliquary in the basement. Weird vibes.

Ended my sightseeing at the Tour Jean-sans-Peur a medieval tower house, an adorable little museum, well worth the 6euro entry fee (and filled with kinda bad recreation clothes and a lot of plaques I couldn’t read).

Stopped back at the hotel to rest my feet a bit, have a glass of wine and plan my next move.

My main goals for tonight were proper French food and fancy cocktail bar. I decided to head in the direction of the Experimental Cocktail Club and find dinner on the way… harder than expected as it was a very hip neighbourhood and not a lot of French food (I think if I lived in Paris for any amount of time, I would spend a lot of time around here)! I did eventually find a place and had an excellent steak frites with a great glass of wine. The side of fries, chips and baguette brought at three different times was much appreciated to soak up the upcoming cocktails. Also, I had forgotten how speedy French service was! I was all used to Italian service being slow and chill but BAM I had my drink almost as soon as I ordered it and BAM while I was texting Craig about how fast my wine came I was interrupted by my steak! Truly mindblowing service speed, I think I was in and out in about 30 minutes including eating time. 

Next I was on to the cocktail bar which really lived up to the hype. I sat at the bar right in front of the drink station and got to chat with the bartender. Really cool cocktail menu, I started with a mescal drink with spice infused Pimm’s, green chartreuse, strawberry liqueur, lime and lime bitters. Next a rye sour with yellow chartreuse, lime and cardamom bitters. Bar tender (Bruno!) wrote me out a list of bars to try when I’m back in Paris and talked me through each one, really sweet! I was back in the hotel by 9, but so tired that some time to decompress and write while LAYING DOWN is much appreciated. I’ve still got some wine to finished off here anyway.

Lol my train to Chaumont tomorrow was just canceled. It’s a bit too late in the night to really do anything about it. All trains to the town were canceled, so at the very least we’re all in the same boat. Will wait to hear from the residency in the morning. 

#paris #travel

[catkittens]

Anais Nin: Artists and Models

Artist and Models by Anaïs Nin

One morning I was called to a studio in Greenwich Village, where a sculptor was beginning a statuette. His name was Mil- lard. He already had a rough version of the figure he wanted and had reached the stage where he needed a model.

The statuette was wearing a clinging dress, and the body showed through in every line and curve. The sculptor asked me to undress completely because he could not work otherwise. He seemed so absorbed by the statuette and looked at me so ab- sently that I was able to undress and take the pose without hesitation. Although I was quite innocent at that time, he made me feel as if my body were no different than my face, as if I were the same as the statuette.

As Millard worked, he talked about his former life in Montparnasse, and the time passed quickly. I didn't know if his stories were meant to affect my imagination, but he showed no signs of being interested in me. He enjoyed recreating the atmo- sphere of Montparnasse for his own sake. This is one of the stories he told me:

"The wife of one of the modern painters was a nymphomaniac. She was tubercular, I believe. She had a chalk-white face, burning black eyes deeply sunk in her face, with eyelids painted green. She had a voluptuous figure, which she covered very sleekly in black satin. Her waist was small in proportion to the rest of her body. Around her waist she wore a huge Greek silver belt, about six inches wide, studded with stones. This belt was fascinating. It was like the belt of a slave. One felt that deep down she was a slave—to her sexual hunger. One felt that all one had to do was to grip the belt and open it for her to

fall into one's arms. It was very much like the chastity belt they showed in the Musée Cluny, which the crusaders were said to have put on their wives, a very wide silver belt with a hanging appendage that covered the sex and locked it up for the duration of their crusades. Someone told me the delightful story of a crusader who had put a chastity belt on his wife and left the key in care of his best friend in case of his death. He had barely ridden away a few miles when he saw his friend riding furiously after him, calling out: 'You gave me the wrong key!'

"Such were the feelings that the belt of Louise inspired in everyone. Seeing her arrive at a café, her hungry eyes looking us over, searching for a response, an invitation to sit down, we knew she was out on a hunt for the day. Her husband could not help knowing about this. He was a pitiful figure, always looking for her, being told by his friends that she was at another café and then another, where he would go, which gave her time to steal off to a hotel room with someone. Then everyone would try to let her know where her husband was looking for her. Finally, in desperation, he began to beg his best friends to take her, so that at least she would not fall into strangers' hands.

"He had a fear of strangers, of South Americans in particular, and of Negroes and Cubans. He had heard remarks about their extraordinary sexual powers and felt that, if his wife fell into their hands, she would never return to him. Louise, how- ever, after having slept with all his best friends, finally did meet one of the strangers.

"He was a Cuban, a tremendous brown man, extraordinarily handsome, with long, straight hair like a Hindu's and beautifully full, noble features. He would practically live at the Dome until he found a woman he wanted. And then they would disappear for two or three days, locked up in a hotel room, and not reappear until they were both satiated. He believed in making such a thorough feast of a woman that neither one wanted to see the other again. Only when this was over would he be seen sitting in the café again, conversing brilliantly. He was, in addition, a remarkable fresco painter.

"When he and Louise met, they immediately went off to- gether. Antonio was powerfully fascinated by the whiteness of her skin, the abundance of her breasts, her slender waist, her long, straight, heavy blond hair. And she was fascinated by his head and powerful body, by his slowness and ease. Everything made him laugh. He gave one the feeling that the whole world was now shut out and only this sensual feast existed, that there would be no tomorrows, no meetings with anyone else—that there was only this room, this afternoon, this bed.

"When she stood by the big iron bed, waiting, he said,

'Keep your belt on.' And he began by slowly tearing her dress from around it. Calmly and with no effort, he tore it into shreds as if it were made of paper. Louise was trembling at the strength of his hands. She stood naked now except for the heavy silver belt. He loosened her hair over her shoulders. And only then did he bend her back on the bed and kiss her interminably, his hands over her breasts. She felt the painful weight both of the silver belt and of his hands pressing so hard on her naked flesh. Her sexual hunger was rising like madness to her head, blinding her. It was so urgent that she could not wait. She could not even wait until he undressed. But Antonio ignored her movements of impatience. He not only continued to kiss her as if he were drinking her whole mouth, tongue, breath, into his big dark mouth, but his hands mauled her, pressed deeply into her flesh, leaving marks and pain everywhere. She was moist and trem- bling, opening her legs and trying to climb over him. She tried to open his pants.

" There is time,' he said. There is plenty of time. We are going to stay in this room for days. There is a lot of time for both of us.'

"Then he turned away and got undressed. He had a golden- brown body, a penis as smooth as the rest of his body, big, firm as a polished wood baton. She fell on him and took it into her mouth. His fingers went everywhere, into her anus, into her sex; his tongue, into her mouth, into her ears. He bit at her nipples, he kissed and bit her belly. She was trying to satisfy her hunger by rubbing against his leg, but he would not let her. He bent her as if she were made of rubber, twisted her into every position. With his two strong hands he took whatever part of her he was hungry for and brought it up to his mouth like a morsel of food, not caring how the rest of her body fell into space. Just so, he took her ass between his two hands, held it to his mouth, and bit and kissed her. She begged, Take me, Antonio, take me, I can't wait!' He would not take her.

"By this time the hunger in her womb was like a raging fire. She thought that it would drive her insane. Whatever she tried to do to bring herself to an orgasm, he defeated. If she even kissed him too long he would break away. As she moved, the big belt made a clinking sound, like the chain of a slave. She was now indeed the slave of this enormous brown man. He ruled like a king. Her pleasure was subordinated to his. She realized she could do nothing against his force and will. He demanded sub- mission. Her desire died in her from sheer exhaustion. All the tautness left her body. She became as soft as cotton. Into this he delved with greater exultancy. His slave, his possession, a broken body, panting, malleable, growing softer under his fingers. His hands searched every nook of her body, leaving nothing untouched, kneading it, kneading it to suit his fancy, bending it to suit his mouth, his tongue, pressing it against his big shining white teeth, marking her as his.

"For the first time, the hunger that had been on the surface of her skin like an irritation, retreated into a deeper part of her body. It retreated and accumulated, and it became a core of fire that waited to be exploded by his time and his rhythm. His touching was like a dance in which the two bodies turned and deformed themselves into new shapes, new arrangements, new designs. Now they were cupped like twins, spoon-fashion, his penis against her ass, her breasts undulating like waves under his hands, painfully awake, aware, sensitive. Now he was crouching over her prone body like some great lion, as she placed her two fists under her ass to raise herself to his penis. He entered for the first time and filled her as none other had, touching the very depths of the womb.

"The honey was pouring from her. As he pushed, his penis made little sucking sounds. All the air was drawn from the womb, the way his penis filled it, and he swung in and out of the honey endlessly, touching the tip of the womb, but as soon as her breathing hastened, he would draw it out, all glistening, and take up another form of caress. He lay back on the bed, legs apart, his penis raised, and he made her sit upon it, swallow it up to the hilt, so that her pubic hair rubbed against his. As he held her, he made her dance circles around his penis. She would fall on him and rub her breasts against his chest, and seek his mouth, then straighten up again and resume her motions around the penis. Sometimes she raised herself a little so that she kept only the head of the penis in her sex, and she moved lightly, very lightly, just enough to keep it inside, touching the edges of her sex, which were red and swollen, and clasped the penis like a mouth. Then suddenly moving downwards, engulfing the whole penis, and gasping with the joy, she would fall over his body and seek his mouth again. His hands remained on her ass all the time, gripping her to force her movements so that she could not suddenly accelerate them and come.

"He took her off the bed, laid her on the floor, on her hands and knees, and said, 'Move.' She began to crawl about the room, her long blond hair half-covering her, her belt weighing her waist down. Then he knelt behind her and inserted his penis, his whole body over hers, also moving on its iron knees and long arms. After he had enjoyed her from behind, he slipped his head under her so that he could suckle at her luxuriant breasts, as if she were an animal, holding her in place with his hands and mouth. They were both panting and twisting, and only then did he lift her up, carry her to the bed, and put her legs around his shoulders. He took her violently and they shook and trembled as they came together. She fell away suddenly and sobbed hysteri- cally. The orgasm had been so strong that she had thought she would go insane, with a hatred and a joy like nothing she had ever known. He was smiling, panting; they lay back and fell asleep."

The next day Millard told me about the artist Mafouka, the man- woman of Montparnasse.

"No one knew exactly what she was. She dressed like a man. She was small, lean, flat-chested. She wore her hair short, straight. She had the face of a boy. She played billiards like a man. She drank like a man, with her foot on the bar railing. She told obscene stories like a man. Her drawing had a strength not found in a woman's work. But her name had a feminine sound, her walk was feminine, and she was said not to have a penis.

* * *

The men did not know quite how to treat her. Sometimes they slapped her on the back with fraternal feelings.

"She lived with two girls in a studio. One of them was a model, the other, a nightclub singer. But no one knew what relationship there was among them. The two girls seemed to have a relationship like that of a husband and a wife. What was Mafouka to them? They would never answer any questions. Montparnasse always liked to know such things, and in detail.

A few homosexuals had been attracted to Mafouka and had made advances towards her or him. But she had repulsed them. She quarreled willingly and struck out with force.

"One day I was quite a little drunk and I dropped into Mafouka's studio. The door was open. As I entered I heard giggling up on the balcony. The two girls were obviously making love. The voices would get soft and tender, then violent and unintelligible, and become moans and sighs. Then there would be silences.

"Mafouka came in and found me with my ear cocked, listening. I said to her, 'Please let me go and see them.'

"I don't mind,' said Mafouka. 'Come up after me, slowly. They won't stop if they think it is just me. They like me to watch them.'

"We went up the narrow stairs. Mafouka called, 'It's I.'

There was no interruption of the noises. As we went up, I bent over so that they could not see me. Mafouka went to the bed. The two girls were naked. They were pressing their bodies against each other and rubbing together. The friction gave them pleasure. Mafouka leaned over them, caressed them. They said, 'Come on, Mafouka, lie with us.' But she left them and took me downstairs again.

"'Mafouka,' I said, 'What are you? Are you a man or a woman? Why do you live with these two girls? If you are a man, why don't you have a girl of your own? If you are a woman, why don't you have a man occasionally?'

"Mafouka smiled at me.

" 'Everybody wants to know. Everybody feels that I am not a boy. The women feel it. The men don't know for sure. I am an artist.'

" 'What do you mean, Mafouka?'

"T mean that I am, like many artists, bisexual.'

"'Yes, but the bisexuality of artists is in their nature. They may be a man with the nature of a woman, but not with such an equivocal physique as you have.'

"'I have an hermaphrodite's body.' "'Oh, Mafouka, let me see your body.' " 'You won't make love to me?'

" 'I promise.'

"She took her shirt off first and showed a young boy’s torso. She had no breasts, just the nipples, marked as they would be on a young boy. Then she slipped down her slacks. She was wearing a woman's panties, flesh-colored, with lace. She had a woman's legs and thighs. They were beautifully curved, full. She was wearing women's stockings and garters. I said, 'Let me take the garters off. I love garters.' She handed me her leg very elegantly with the movement of a ballet dancer. I slowly rolled down the garter. I held a dainty foot in my hand. I looked up at her legs, which were perfect. I rolled down the stocking and saw beautiful, smooth, woman's skin. Her feet were dainty and carefully pedicured. Her nails were covered with red lac- quer. I was more and more intrigued. I caressed her leg. She said, 'You promised you would not make love to me.'

"I stood up. Then she slipped down her panties. And I saw below the delicate curled pubic hair, shaped like a woman's, that she carried a small atrophied penis, like a child's. She let me look at her—or at him, as I felt I now should say.

" 'Why do you call yourself by a woman's name, Mafouka?

You are really like a young boy except for the shape of your legs and arms.'

"Then Mafouka laughed, this time a woman's laugh, very light and pleasant. She said, 'Come and see.' She lay back on the couch, opened her legs and showed me a perfect vulva mouth, rosy and tender, behind the penis.

'"Mafouka!'

"My desire was aroused. The strangest desire. The feeling of wanting to take both a man and woman in one person. She saw the stirring of it in me and sat up. I tried to win her by a caress, but she eluded me.

"'Don't you like men?' I asked her. 'Haven't you ever had a man?'

"'I'm a virgin. I don't like men. I feel a desire for women only, but I can't take them as a man could. My penis is like a child's—I cannot have an erection.'

" 'You are a real hermaphrodite, Mafouka,' I said. That is what our age is supposed to have produced because the tension between the masculine and the feminine has broken down, people are mostly half of one and half of the other. But I have never seen it before—actually, physically. It must make you very unhappy. Are you happy with women?'

'"I desire women, but I do suffer, because I cannot take them like a man, and also because when they have taken me like Lesbians, I still feel some dissatisfaction. But I am not attracted to men. I fell in love with Matilda, the model. But I could not keep her. She found a real Lesbian for herself, one that she feels she can satisfy. This penis of mine always gives her the feeling that I am not a real Lesbian. And she knows she has no power over me, even though I was attracted to her. So you see, the two girls have formed another link together. I stand between them, perpetually dissatisfied. Also, I do not like the companionship of women. They are petty and personal. They hang on to their mysteries and secrets, they act and pretend. I like the character of men better.'

" 'Poor Mafouka.'

" 'Poor Mafouka. Yes, when I was born they did not know how to name me. I was born in a small village in Russia. They thought I was a monster and should perhaps be destroyed, for my own sake. When I came to Paris I suffered less. I found I was a good artist.' "

Whenever I left the sculptor's studio, I would always stop in a coffee shop nearby and ponder all that Millard had told me. I wondered whether anything like this were happening around me, here in Greenwich Village, for instance. I began to love posing, for the adventurous aspect of it. I decided to attend a party one Saturday evening that a painter named Brown had invited me to. I was hungry and curious about everything.

I rented an evening dress from the costume department of the Art Model Club, with an evening cape and shoes. Two of the models came with me, a red-haired girl, Mollie, and a statuesque one, Ethel, who was the favorite of the sculptors.

What was passing through my head all the time were the stories of Montparnasse life told to me by the sculptor, and now I felt that I was entering this realm. My first disappointment was seeing that the studio was quite poor and bare, the two couches without pillows, the lighting crude, with none of the trappings I had imagined necessary for a party.

Bottles were on the floor, along with glasses and chipped cups. A ladder led to a balcony where Brown kept his paintings. A thin curtain concealed the washstand and a little gas stove. At the front of the room was an erotic painting of a woman being possessed by two men. She was in a state of convulsion, her body arched, her eyes showing the whites. The men were cover- ing her, one with his penis inside of her and the other with his penis in her mouth. It was a life-size painting and very bestial. Everyone was looking at it, admiring it. I was fascinated. It was the first picture of the sort I had seen, and it gave me a tremendous shock of mixed feelings.

Next to it stood another which was even more striking. It showed a poorly furnished room, filled by a big iron bed. Sitting on this bed was a man of about forty or so, in old clothes, with an unshaved face, a slobbering mouth, loose eyelids, loose jaws, a completely degenerate expression. He had taken his pants down halfway, and on his bare knees sat a little girl with very short skirts, to whom he was feeding a bar of candy. Her little bare legs rested on his bare hairy ones.

What I felt after seeing these two paintings was what one feels when drinking, a sudden dizziness of the head, a warmth through the body, a confusion of the senses. Something awakens in the body, foggy and dim, a new sensation, a new kind of hunger and restlessness.

I looked at the other people in the room. But they had seen so much of this that it did not affect them. They laughed and commented.

One model was talking about her experiences at an under- wear shop:

"I had answered an advertisement for a model to pose in under- wear for sketches. I had done this many times before and was paid the normal price of a dollar an hour. Usually several artists sketched me at the same time, and there were many people around—secretaries, stenographers, errand boys. This time the place was empty. It was just an office with a desk, files and drawing materials. A man sat waiting for me in front of his drawing board. I was given a pile of underwear and found a screen placed where I could change. I began by wearing a slip. I posed for fifteen minutes at a time while he made sketches.

"We worked quietly. When he gave the signal, I went behind the screen and changed. They were satin underthings of lovely designs, with lace tops and fine embroidery. I wore a brassiere and panties. The man smoked and sketched. At the bottom of the pile were panties and a brassiere made entirely of black lace. I had posed in the nude often and did not mind wearing these. They were quite beautiful.

"I looked out of the window most of the time, not at the man sketching. After a while I did not hear the pencil working any longer and I turned slightly towards him, not wanting to lose the pose. He was sitting there behind his drawing board staring at me. Then I realized that he had his penis out and that he was in a kind of trance.

"Thinking this would mean trouble for me since we were alone in the office, I started to go behind the screen and dress.

"He said, 'Don't go. I won't touch you. I just love to see women in lovely underwear. I won't move from here. And if you want me to pay you more, all you have to do is wear my favorite piece of underwear and pose for fifteen minutes. I will give you five dollars more. You can reach for it yourself. It is right above your head on the shelf there.'

"Well, I did reach for the package. It was the loveliest piece of underwear you ever saw—the finest black lace, like a spider web really, and the panties were slit back and front, slit and edged with fine lace. The brassiere was cut in such a way as to expose the nipples through triangles. I hesitated because I was wondering if this would not excite the man too much, if he would attack me.

"He said, 'Don't worry. I don't really like women. I never touch them. I like only underwear. I just like to see women in lovely underwear. If I tried to touch you I would immediately become impotent. I won't move from here.'

"He put aside the drawing board and sat there with his penis out. Now and then it shook. But he did not move from his chair.

"I decided to put on the underwear. The five dollars tempted me. He was not very strong and I felt that I could defend myself. So I stood there in the slit panties, turning around for him to see me on all sides.

"Then he said, 'That's enough.' He seemed unsettled and his face was congested. He told me to dress quickly and leave. He handed me the money in a great hurry, and I left. I had a feeling that he was only waiting for me to leave to masturbate.

"I have known men like this, who steal a shoe from some- one, from an attractive woman, so they can hold it and mastur- bate while looking at it."

Everyone was laughing at her story. "I think," said Brown, "that when we are children we are much more inclined to be fetishists of one kind or another. I remember hiding inside of my mother's closet and feeling ecstasy at smelling her clothes and feeling them. Even today I cannot resist a woman who is wearing a veil or tulle or feathers, because it awakens the strange feelings I had in that closet."

As he said this I remembered how I hid in the closet of a young man when I was only thirteen, for the same reason. He was twenty-five and he treated me like a little girl. I was in love with him. Sitting next to him in a car in which he took all of us for long rides, I was ecstatic just feeling his leg alongside mine. At night I would get into bed and, after turning out the light, take out a can of condensed milk in which I had punctured a little hole. I would sit in the dark sucking at the sweet milk with a voluptuous feeling all over my body that I could not explain. I thought then that being in love and sucking at the sweet milk were related. Much later I remembered this when I tasted sperm for the first time.

Mollie remembered that at the same age she liked to eat ginger while she smelled camphor balls. The ginger made her body feel warm and languid and the camphor balls made her a little dizzy. She would get herself in a sort of drugged state this way, lying there for hours.

Ethel turned to me and said, "I hope you never marry a man you don't love sexually. That is what I have done. I love everything about him, the way he behaves, his face, his body, the way he works, treats me, his thoughts, his way of smiling, talking, everything except the sexual man in him. I thought I did, before we married. There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. He is a perfect lover. He is emotional and romantic, he shows great feeling and great enjoyment. He is sensitive and adoring. Last night while I was asleep he came into my bed. I was half-asleep so I could not control myself, as I usually do, because I do not want to hurt his feelings. He got in beside me and began to take me very slowly and lingeringly. Usually it is all over quickly, which makes it possible to bear. I do not even let him kiss me if I can help it. I hate his mouth on mine. I usually turn my face away, which is what I did last night. Well, there he was, and what do you think I did? I suddenly began to strike him with my closed fists, on the shoulder, while he was enjoying himself, to dig my nails into him, and he took it as a sign that I was enjoying it, growing rather wild with pleasure, and he went on. Then I whispered as low as I could, 'I hate you.' And then I asked myself if he had heard me. What would he think? Was he hurt? As he was himself partly asleep, he merely kissed me good night when it was over and went back to his bed. The next morning I was waiting for what he would say. I still thought perhaps he had heard me say, 'I hate you.' But no, I must have formed the words without saying them. And all he said was, 'You got quite wild lastnight, you know,' and smiled, as if it pleased him."

Brown started the phonograph and we began to dance. The little alcohol I had taken had gone to my head. I felt a dilation of the whole universe. Everything seemed very smooth and simple. Everything, in fact, ran downwards like a snowy hill on which I could slide without effort. I felt a great friendliness, as if I knew all these people intimately. But I chose the most timid of the painters to dance with. I felt that he was pretending somewhat, as I was, to be very familiar with all of this. I felt that deep down he was a little uneasy. The other painters were caressing Ethel and Mollie as they danced. This one did not dare. I was laughing to myself at having discovered him. Brown saw that my painter was not making any advances, and he cut in for a dance. He was making sly remarks about virgins. I wondered whether he was alluding to me. How could he know? He pressed against me, and I drew away from him. I went back to the timid young painter. A woman illustrator was flirting with him, teas- ing him. He was equally glad that I came back to him. So we danced together, retreating into our own timidity. All around us people were kissing now, embracing.

The woman illustrator had thrown off her blouse and was dancing in her slip. The timid painter said, "If we stay here we will soon have to lie on the floor and make love. Do you want to leave?"

"Yes, I want to leave," I said.

We went out. Instead of making love, he was talking, talking. I was listening to him in a daze. He had a plan for a picture of me. He wanted to paint me as an undersea woman, nebulous, transparent, green, watery except for the very red mouth and the very red flower I was wearing in my hair. Would I pose for him? I did not respond very quickly because of the effects of the liquor, and he said apologetically, "Are you sorry that I was not brutal?"

"No, I'm not sorry. I chose you myself because I knew you would not be."

"It's my first party," he said humbly, "and you're not the kind of woman one can treat—that way. How did you ever become a model? What did you do before this? A model does not have to be a prostitute, I know, but she has to bear a lot of handling and attempts."

"I manage quite well," I said, not enjoying this conversation at all.

"I will be worrying about you. I know some artists are objective while they work, I know all that. I feel that way myself. But there is always a moment before and after, when the model is undressing and dressing, that does disturb me. It's the first surprise of seeing the body. What did you feel the first time?"

"Nothing at all. I felt as if I were a painting already. Or a statue. I looked down at my own body like some object, some impersonal object."

I was growing sad, sad with restlessness and hunger. I felt that nothing would happen to me. I felt desperate with desire to be a woman, to plunge into living. Why was I enslaved by this need of being in love first? Where would my life begin? I would enter each studio expecting a miracle which did not take place. It seemed to me that a great current was passing all around me and that I was left out. I would have to find someone who felt as I did. But where? Where?

The sculptor was watched by his wife, I could see that. She came into the studio so often, unexpectedly. And he was fright- ened. I did not know what frightened him. They invited me to spend two weeks at their country house where I would continue to pose—or rather, she invited me. She said that her husband did not like to stop work during vacations. But as soon as she left he turned to me and said, "You must find an excuse not to go. She will make you miserable. She is not well—she has obsessions. She thinks that every woman who poses for me is my mistress."

There were hectic days of running from studio to studio with very little time for lunch, posing for magazine covers, illustrations for magazine stories, and advertisements. I could see my face everywhere, even in the subway. I wondered if people recognized me.

The sculptor had become my best friend. I was anxiously watching his statuette coming to a finish. Then one morning when I arrived I saw that he had ruined it. He said that he had tried to work on it without me. But he did not seem unhappy or worried. I was quite sad, and to me it looked very much like sabotage, because it seemed spoiled with such awkwardness. I saw that he was happy to be beginning it all over again.

It was at the theatre that I met John and discovered the power of a voice. It rolled over me like the tones of a pipe organ, making me vibrate. When he repeated my name and mispro- nounced it, it sounded to me like a caress. It was the deepest, richest voice I had ever heard. I could scarcely look at him. I knew that his eyes were big, of an intense, magnetic blue, that he was large, rather restless. His foot moved nervously like that of a race horse. I felt his presence blurring everything else—the theatre, the friend sitting at my right. And he behaved as if I had enchanted him, hypnotized him. He talked on, looking at me, but I was not listening. In one moment I was no longer a young girl. Every time he spoke, I felt myself falling into some dizzy spiral, falling into the meshes of a beautiful voice. It was truly a drug. When he had finally "stolen" me, as he said, he hailed a taxi.

We did not say another word until we reached his apartment. He had not touched me. He did not need to. His presence had affected me in such a way that I felt as if he had caressed me for a long time.

He merely said my name twice, as if he thought it sufficiently beautiful to repeat. He was tall, glowing. His eyes were so intensely blue that when they blinked, for a second it was like some tiny flash of lightning, giving one a sense of fear, a fear of a storm that would completely engulf one.

Then he kissed me. His tongue went around mine, around and around, and then it stopped to touch the tip only. As he kissed me he slowly lifted my skirt. He unrolled my garters, my stockings. Then he lifted me up and carried me to the bed. I was so dissolved that I felt he had already penetrated me. It seemed to me that his voice had opened me, opened my whole body to him. He sensed this, and so he was amazed by the resistance to his penis that he felt.

He stopped to look at my face. He saw the great emotional receptiveness, and then he pressed harder. I felt the tear and the pain, but the warmth melted everything, the warmth of his voice in my ear saying, "Do you want me as I want you?"

Then his pleasure made him groan. His whole weight upon me, pressing against my body, the shaft of pain vanished. I felt the joy of being opened. I lay there in a semidream.

John said, "I hurt you. You did not enjoy it." I could not say, "I want it again." My hand touched his penis. I caressed it. It sprung up, so hard. He kissed me until I felt a new wave of desire, a desire to respond completely. But he said, "It will hurt now. Wait a little while. Can you stay with me, all night? Will you stay?"

I saw that there was blood on my leg. I went to wash it off. I felt that I had not been taken yet, that this was only a small part of the breaking through. I wanted to be possessed and know blinding joys. I walked unsteadily and fell on the bed again.

John was asleep, his big body still curved as when he was lying against me, his arm thrown out where my head had been resting. I slipped in at his side and fell half-asleep. I wanted to touch his penis again. I did so gently, not wanting to wake him. Then I slept and was awakened by his kisses. We were floating in a dark world of flesh, feeling only the soft flesh vibrating, and every touch was a joy. He gripped my hips tautly against him. He was afraid to wound me. I parted my legs. When he inserted his penis it hurt, but the pleasure was greater. There was a little outer rim of pain and, deeper in, a pleasure at the presence of his penis moving there. I pressed forwards, to meet it.

This time he was passive. He said, "You move, you enjoy it now." So as not to feel the pain, I moved gently around his penis. I put my closed fists under my backside to raise myself towards him. He placed my legs on his shoulders. Then the pain grew greater and he withdrew.

I left him in the morning, dazed, but with a new joy of feeling that I was growing nearer to passion. I went home and slept until he telephoned.

"When are you coming?" he said. "I must see you again. Soon. Are you posing today?"

"Yes, I must. I'll come after the pose."

"Please don't pose," he said, "please don't pose. It makes me desperate to think of it. Come and see me first. I want to talk to you. Please come and see me first."

I went to him. "Oh," he said, burning my face with the breath of his desire, "I can't bear to think of you posing now, exposing yourself. You can't do that anymore. You must let me take care of you. I cannot marry you because I have a wife and children. Let me take care of you until we know how we can escape. Let me get a little place where I can come and see you. You should not be posing. You belong to me."

* * *

So I entered a secret life, and when I was supposed to be posing for everyone else in the world, I was really waiting in a beautiful room for John. Each time he came, he brought a gift, a book, colored stationery for me to write on. I was restless, waiting.

The only one who was taken into the secret was the sculptor because he sensed what was happening. He would not let me stop posing, and he questioned me. He had predicted how my life would be.

The first time I felt an orgasm with John, I wept because it was so strong and so marvelous that I did not believe it could happen over and over again. The only painful moments were the ones spent waiting. I would bathe myself, spread polish on my nails, perfume myself, rouge my nipples, brush my hair, put on a negligee, and all the preparations would turn my imagination to the scenes to come.

I wanted him to find me in the bath. He would say he was on his way. But he would not arrive. He was often detained. By the time he arrived I would be cold, resentful. The waiting wore out my feelings. I would rebel. Once I would not answer when he rang the doorbell. Then he knocked gently, humbly, and that touched me, so I opened the door. But I was angry and wanted to hurt him. I did not respond to his kiss. He was hurt until his hand slipped under my negligee and he found that I was wet, in spite of the fact that I kept my legs tightly closed. He was joyous again and he forced his way.

Then I punished him by not responding sexually and he was hurt again, for he enjoyed my pleasure. He knew by the violent heartbeats, by the changes in the voice, by the contrac- tion of my legs, how I had enjoyed him. And this time I lay like a whore. That really hurt him.

We could never go out together. He was too well known, as was his wife. He was a producer. His wife was a playwright.

When John discovered how angry it would make me to wait for him, he did not try to remedy it. He came later and later. He would say that he was arriving at ten o'clock and then come at midnight. So one day he found that I was not there when he came. This put him in a frenzy. He thought I would not come back. I felt that he was doing this deliberately, that he liked my being angry. After two days he pleaded with me and

I returned. We were both very keyed up and angry.

He said, "You've gone back to pose. You like it. You like to show yourself."

"Why do you make me wait so long? You know that it kills my desire for you. I feel cold when you come late."

"Not so very cold," he said.

I closed my legs tightly against him, he could not even touch me. But then he slipped in quickly from behind and caressed me. "Not so cold," he said.

On the bed he pushed his knee between my legs and forced them open. "When you are angry," he said, "I feel that I am raping you. I feel then that you love me so much you cannot resist me, I see that you are wet, and I like your resistance and your defeat too."

"John, you will make me so angry that I will leave you."

Then he was frightened. He kissed me. He promised not to repeat this.

What I could not understand was that, despite our quarrels, being made love to by John made me only more sensitive. He had awakened my body. Now I had even a greater desire to abandon myself to all whims. He must have known this, because the more he caressed me, awakened me, the more he feared that I would return to posing. Slowly, I did return. I had too much time to myself, I was too much alone with my thoughts of John.

Millard particularly was happy to see me. He must have spoiled the statuette again, purposely I knew now, so he could keep me in the pose he liked.

The night before, he had smoked marijuana with friends.

He said, "Did you know that very often it gives people the feeling that they are transformed into animals? Last night there was a woman who was completely taken by this transformation. She fell on her hands and knees and walked around like a dog. We took her clothes off. She wanted to give milk. She wanted us to act like puppies, sprawl on the floor and suckle at her breasts. She kept on her hands and knees and offered her breasts to all of us. She wanted us to walk like dogs—after her. She insisted on our taking her in this position, from behind, and I did, but then I was terribly tempted to bite her as I crouched over her. I bit into her shoulder harder than I have ever bitten anyone. The woman did not get frightened. I did. It sobered me.

I stood up and then I saw that a friend of mine was following her on his hands and knees, not caressing her or taking her, but merely smelling exactly as a dog would do, and this reminded me so much of my first sexual impression that it gave me a painful hard-on.

"As children we had a big servant girl in the country who came from Martinique. She wore voluminous skirts and a colored kerchief on her head. She was a rather pale mulatto, very beautiful. She would make us play hide-and-seek. When it was my turn to hide she would hide me under her skirt, sitting down. And there I was, half-suffocated, hiding between her legs. I remember the sexual odor that came from her and that stirred me even as a boy. Once I tried to touch her, but she slapped my hand."

I was posing quietly and he came over to measure me with an instrument. Then I felt his hand on my thighs, caressing me so lightly. I smiled at him. I stood on the model's stand, and he was caressing my legs now, as if he were modeling me out of clay. He kissed my feet, he ran his hands up my legs again and again, and around my ass. He leaned against my legs and kissed me. He lifted me up and brought me down to the floor. He held me tightly against him, caressing my back and shoulders and neck. I shivered a little. His hands were smooth and supple. He touched me as he touched the statuette, so caressingly, all over.

Then we walked towards the couch. He lay me there on my stomach. He took his clothes off and fell on me. I felt his penis against my ass. He slipped his hands around my waist and lifted me up slightly so that he could penetrate me. He lifted me up towards him rhythmically. I closed my eyes to feel him better and to listen to the sound of the penis sliding in and out of the moisture. He pushed so violently that it made tiny clicks, which delighted me.

His fingers dug into my flesh. His nails were sharp and hurt. He aroused me so much with his vigorous thrusts that my mouth opened and I was biting into the couch cover. Then at the same time we both heard a sound. Millard rose swiftly, picked up his clothes and ran up the ladder to the balcony where he kept his scupture. I slipped behind the screen.

There came a second knock on the studio door, and his wife came in. I was trembling, not with fear, but the shock of having stopped in the middle of our enjoyment. Millard's wife saw the studio empty and left. Millard came out dressed. I said, "Wait for me a minute," and began to dress too. The moment was destroyed. I was still wet and shivering. When I slipped on my panties the silk touch affected me like a hand. I could not bear the tension and desire any longer. I put my two hands over my sex as Millard had done and pressed against it, closing my eyes and imagining Millard was caressing me. And I came, shaking from head to foot.

Millard wanted to be with me again, but not in his studio where we might be surprised by his wife, so I let him find another place. It belonged to a friend. The bed was set in a deep alcove and there were mirrors above the bed and small dim lamps. Millard wanted all the lights out, he said he wanted to be in the dark with me.

"I have seen your body and I know it so well, now I want to feel it, with my eyes closed, just to feel the skin and the softness of the flesh. Your legs are so firm and strong, but so soft to the touch. I love your feet with the toes free and set apart like the fingers of a hand, not cramped—and the toenails so beautifully lacquered—and the down on your legs." He passed his hand all over my body, slowly, pressing into the flesh, feeling every curve. "If my hand stays here between the legs," he said, "do you feel it, do you like it, do you want it nearer?"

"Nearer, nearer," I said.

"I want to teach you something," said Millard. "Do you want to let me do it?"

He inserted his finger inside my sex. "Now, I want you to contract around my finger. There is a muscle there that can be made to contract and expand around the penis. Try."

I tried. His finger there was tantalizing. Since he was not moving it, I tried to move inside of my womb, and I felt the muscle that he mentioned, weakly at first, opening and closing around the finger.

Millard said, "Yes, like that. Do it stronger, stronger."

So I did, opening, closing, opening, closing. It was like a little mouth inside, tightening around the finger. I wanted to take it in, suckle at it and so I continued to try.

Then Millard said that he would insert his penis and not move and that I should continue to move inside. I tried with more and more strength to clutch at him. The motion was exciting me, and I felt that at any moment I would reach the orgasm, but after I had clutched at him several times, sucking his penis in, he suddenly groaned with pleasure and began to push quickly, as he himself could not hold back the orgasm. I merely continued the inner motion and I felt the orgasm, too, in the most marvelous deep way, deep inside of the womb.

He said, "Did John ever show you this?" "No."

"What has he shown you?"

"This," I said. "You kneel over me and push."

Millard obeyed. His penis did not have much strength, for it was too soon after the first orgasm, but he slipped it in, pushing it with his hand. Then I reached out with my two hands and caressed the balls and put two fingers at the basis of the penis and rubbed as he moved. Millard was instantly aroused, his penis hardened, and he began to move in and out again. Then he stopped himself.

"I must not be so demanding," he said in a strange tone. "You will be tired out for John."

We lay back and rested, smoking. I was wondering if Millard had felt more than sensual desire, whether my love for John weighed on him. But although there was always a hurt sound to his words, he continued to ask me questions.

"Did John have you today? Did he take you more than once? How did he take you?"

In the weeks to come, Millard taught me many things I had not done with John, and as soon as I learned them I tried them with John. Finally he became suspicious of where I was learning new positions. He knew I had not made love before I met him. The first time I tightened my muscles to clutch at the penis, he was amazed.

The two secret relationships became difficult for me, but I enjoyed the danger and the intensity.

[jacks-tracks]

Upgrades and museums

What a difference $25 bucks makes! The Hotel Isabel is just that much closer to downtown, and the room is 5 times the size, with a big private bathroom, huge double door onto a second story balcony, and a lovely flat lump free bed. No padlocks on the doors or bag ladys living across the hall. The interior courtyard is glassed over, leaving a big airy space with the walkway lined by flowering plants. The room door is 10 feet tall, matching the 16 foot ceiling. There's a restaurant , and it's all secure. Phew! Pension Zocalo was OK for an overnighter, just a cheap place to flop, but this Hotel is luxury!

I,m here for the culture and am getting a ton. First day out i stumbled through 3 museums, all interesting. Second day i met with Maru, a Mexican friend, and she guided me through 4 more. First a walk through the Alameda, then a cathedral, and on to the Franz Meyer museum, a remarkable collection of bits and pieces, no theme, just whatever caught his eye. I,d seen a poster for a Leonardo Da Vinci collection of artifacts and inventions. I don't know if all those wooden tools were originals but was surprised by how many were

so advanced for their time. He invented the parachute, and while it was far too small to work, the concept of compressing air to slow a fall was sound. The glider too was impractical, but would work if scaled up. How about a trip hammer, and centrifugal machine, a geared pulley, and a dozen other inventions, all made from wood, and rope. The Mona lisa smiled, and Maru pointed out that she has no eyebrows. The last super was larger than i,d imagined

We walked through 2 more gallerys, with lots of paintings, mostly of the "portrait of children, Mums, and patriarchs" school. Now museums are quiet places, so when we saw a huge black marble table too tall to sit at, Maru wondered what it was for. I said it was for corpos(latin for corpse) and she had a giggle fit, but quietly. Some good watercolours, beautiful scenery, and all framed with the most elaborate carved wooden frames, art by themselves. We found a hall of marble statuary, and marvelled at how someone could chip a block of stone into a fully muscled body. The usual angels, a copy of David, and more. Most impressive were the ballrooms with 40 foot ceilings, all frescoed and gilded over delicious parquet floors glossy with varnish and smoothed by use. One music room had block floors, wooden blocks set on end and sanded flat, thousands of them. Elaborate marble staircases, spiraled up along wrought iron railings, leading to overviews of perfect interior courtyards. Too much to list, and a lot of stairs to climb. There were entrance fees for most places, but modest amounts, and well worth the price.

Time had flown by and we were hungry so she took me to the Pagoda restaurant, the only thing chinese being the screen at the bathroom doors. The place was packed with knowing locals, food was Mexican, and the set meal(comida corrida) started with tortilla soup, red rice, tons of buns, and then a main course. I had Mole but it was pretty spicy for my taste. Washed it down with the included lime drink. Maru had arranchera, known as flank steak, very popular locally. Total cost for both meals 200 pesos($16) We ate and chatted, her in english and Spanish, me in English and Spanglish. Odd but we covered some complex subjects by helping each other. She's going to visit her boyfriend gordon in Idaho this summer. Gordon is a crusty old guy, with a good heart, and i grew to like him at Casa Dan.

Maru had a one hour commute by bus to home, as Mexico city is sprawled for umpteen miles. I had a half hour walk to my hotel, carrying my dinner in a bag from the bakery, a doughnut, creme puff, and strawberry shortcake all of which were delicious,proving that not all Mexican baked goods have been run through the flavor extractor. Saved the doughnut for the Anthropology museum and had a few walnuts for topping off. My legs were very tired, basically 6 hour walking. though there are usually period piece furniture in all museums, they are no sit zones and places to rest are few. home to flop with netflixs, and clean internet.

Today was the time to go to the famous Anthropology museum, a must see, 2 floors of artifacts, displays, dioramas, and culture. I,ve been twice before, and will go again, because it's huge, and vastly interesting. Getting there was a challenge, since I am trying to use public transit. I have a map of the subway system, but signage is in Spanish(natch) and everybody else knows the drill. I walked to the marked entrance ( across 6 lanes of traffic) but that station was closed, so i did my usual which is ask several people for directions/info and average it all out. Works! The vendor by the bus stop gave my complete instructions and I faithfully took his advice on buses. Got a bus after 3 passed by, and got off where he,d said(though I really did not understand the details) and with a bit of searching(here,s the exit, where the heck is the entrance?) dashed across those 6 lanes again and down into the tombs. Interrupted the ticket lady who was doing her makeup, and she graciously directed me onward. One more ask at the platform, and got the right train. there are police everywhere, so it,s secure. The first cars are for women only, even safer. On board announcements are in the international language of loudspeakers, loud and blurred to incomprehension. Happily i had my map. and watched the station signs as we paused to dump off people and stuff more on. Actually navigate succesfully, and found the overpass to Chapultepec Park, a 2000 acres woods and lake and garden and zoo and museums and at last the Anthropology museum. So nice to get off the roaring streets and into some woods, however cultivated.

I,m not going to detail the Museum, except to say that after 4 hours of viewing my legs were shot and the cases of artifacts were becoming blurrily the same. All that was just the ground floor displays, so you can imagine the size and complexity of the place.

Getting home was another adventure as i was dubious about the subway stopping where I needed to go. My guidebook said take any bus on Reforma and i did with some trepidation. Started off ok, but quickly filled both decks (double deckers) to capacity. i ended up clinging to a pole by the mid door exit, jammed with my fellow passengers. Seemed like nobody got off, just kept loading them on. Again i asked a guy for the Alameda, the only landmark i knew and he helped me off. I knew the direction but saw no familiar sights. There ahead was salvation! A KFC! Time for lunch! 2pieces of chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, a biscuit, and an ice cream, all washed down with a coke, 99 pesos ($8). Greaty refreshed I asked for more directions and by golly there was the Alameda and now I knew my way. Huge crowds surging by the hundred at crosswalks, and lots of police in riot gear with shields. This did not make me feel safer. All the crowd pressed shoulder to shoulder towards the Zocalo and I felt very uncomfortable, knowing that so many people packed together could have a crushing stampede. No choice but to walk at the crowds pace until my corner, where the pack thinned. Now I really realize just how crowded this huge city is! Glad to get back to a hot shower, and a safe place. Glad too that i abandoned my idea of extending my excursion with a trip to the zoo across the road from the museum, as at 5 pm lightning flashed, thunder roared, and rain pelted down, Most people sheltered in shop doorways, but a surprising number flipped up umbrellas or donned rain suits.

So, another day in the worlds biggest city. Planning to do that zoo visit tomorrow, with a museum or two thrown in. who knows where the bus will take me?

[meanwhileinstasiville]

This has been very nazi enlightening

I’m tired of staged conversations with religious themes in the library, Motorola. 

Your family has far too much power to pretend there’s a religious concern behind any of these interactions.

Right now, “Christopher” a library tech who looks like an FBI agent kind of, is dictating to what sounds like a *very gay* guy sitting on 8 with animal license earrings, how to go about his broken fingers and medical records in a way that somehow involves “software” and typing “jpg” to get to the “parent folder” *pointing to and touching the screen rather than dictating* “eject the disk” “close this window here” “let the autorun do something” *gestures with pen and snaps fingers with other hand rather than pointing* 

“There’s an autorun script that’s supposed to run...” I’m not sure what this has to do with medical records of any kind. “It’s hard and not your fault” because “they expect you to have a computer and privileges” That sounds pretty damn patronizing, in the government authority excuses any discourtesy kind of way.

(Apropos, the time we got pulled over in the Basin for driving a truck in the evening, as a couple of white people; my mom and I. The trooper shined a flashlight on my hands before my face, or even my mom’s as she was behind the wheel, before even asking for her license and registration. She had a spotless driving record; so I could’ve been a white BLM killing way back in 2000)

“It’s capital D...” Yes, agent whatever your name is, as fun as this is it doesn’t sound helpful. I would try memos since Tumblr is like any social media, and requires a Google login with my name attached to it in the first place.

*more pointing a touching the screen* “click view (about jpeg and jpg)” “Do you think you’d recognize what you’re actually looking for?” “Try PMG...go ahead and scroll through...”

(This is going to become a conversation about a “hand” or “hands”, just watch, the fbi and “phil hands”, Bryan, and this shit happens every single day since at least 2008)

“Try TIFF” The point of the conversation has turned into the baby in soap operas that goes upstairs one day, and comes down an adult years later. “Let’s search for J...P...2″ “BMP...like Bravo Mike Papa” “Try I...CO” “Try ING” “Can you send the doctor the whole disk?” “Cloud network drive, put it in the cloud and then link to it...download the whole thing and then have them run it...” (The reference pool is very very small like a syllogism of legal argument, and that’s the soap opera baby) “GIMP is GNU Image Manipulation Program” (yes, I’m well aware that you are cop like the city guy who looks like a religious relief, or the campus guy who looks like a roman fresco of same) “A proprietary hospital software” 

(This sort of thing is going to lead directly to litigation, because I don’t menace, and I don’t cajole, and I don’t have humility that makes browbeating work, or guilt or shame that makes class consciousness function)

When do we get to the part where only arguments that people like “Christopher” (who is bald, I might add) make, exist for legal purposes?

“Proton Mail” huh, subtle. “Can you do ctrl-U again, please?” I’ve never heard someone who carries a gun for a living make demands disguised as requests in the library before.

(If I were in his situation, trying to act this sort of thing out like a parable, I would use the escalated and unlimited privileges of my office to *make it go* whether it involved installing software or whatever, because these client sessions aren’t persistent state and refresh like virtual machines. Says me, coming from the persecution that I do, unlike *ANY* person whose supposed to look like me that I have encountered thus far)

I don’t internalize what I read, either.

[justhybrid]

Samba brazilian steakhouse tripadvisor

We were seated next to an old school British phone booth, placed next to the wine cellar. Many a times, my table guests have to flail their arms to catch the attention of the waiter with the meats so they’d come serve us at our table. But being Malaysia, this didn’t work as well as it should. This makes it handy that you really don’t need to nod, or talk, or wave your hand, or talk when the meat starts making their rounds. If your “button” is turned with the green side facing up, it means “Yes, please”, aka I want more meat and serve me NAO! When it’s turned with the red side facing up, “No, thanks”, aka I ate too much and I want to stop stuffing my face. Throughout your dinner, waiters will be walking around with skewers or trays and trolleys of a variety of grilled meats. On every seat, there’s a “button” (errr… plaque?) coloured red on one side, and green on the other. If you’ve not had Brazilian steakhouse cuisine before, here’s what you’ll see. Not “cozy” as in small and quaint, but rather low lighting with colourful theme and Brazilian wraps around the giant pillar on the outdoor seating. Overall, the restaurant decor looks very nice and comfy. There’s an outdoor balcony seating, handy for the smokers and those who enjoy semi “al fresco” dining overlooking the entrance of KLCC Twin Towers. Around the glass kitchen, there are 4 corners of buffet spread from appetizers to main courses to desserts. There’s the giant “fish tank” glassed kitchen in the middle, where you can watch the chef and kitchen staff cook the food and grill the meats. Nevertheless, we went to Samba (keeping it short) on a hungry and tiring Friday evening, right after work when I’m famished. It’s no longer there today, as Changkat is now a street lined with pubs and bars, leaving little room for dining places. The only other Brazilian steakhouse I remember, was Bom Brazil Churrascaria, which used to be at Changkat Bukit Bintang years ago. Samba Brazilian Steakhouse Churrascaria (Source : ) Samba Brazilian Steakhouse Churrascaria is an all-you-can-eat buffet place with great grilled meats and an amazing spread of other dishes on the buffet line. The revamped Level 3 of the previously quiet shopping mall is now alive with quite a few interesting eateries.Ī few weeks ago, along with some friends, we decided to give this Brazilian steakhouse a try. "Positive news for jobs, the town’s economy and two great culinary additions for Middlesbrough.Recently I’ve been slowly trying to discover all the new great F& B outlets in Avenue K. "The Rio runs a high-quality Brazilian rodizio experience - with waiters bringing customers cuts of meat to their table. "Fantastic news that we’ve attracted the Rio Brazilian Steakhouse to open a restaurant in Middlesbrough. Middlesbrough Mayor Andy Preston said: "The Samba beat is on its way to boro. "Make sure to follow our Rio Middlesbrough Instagram page also! "The Rio team can't wait to bring their amazing Brazilian rodizio experience to the people of Teesside! They posted: "The #1 TripAdvisor rated restaurant of Newcastle will be launching our second location at the former Bistro Pierre in Middlesbrough centre! The Rio Steakhouse has posted a mock-up of how the Albert Road venue could look once their sign is above the door - but for now, the interior fit-out is under wraps. It comes days after the Tomahawk brand announced they are taking over the former Brierley Restaurant at Acklam Hall, Middlesbrough's only Grade 1 listed building.Ĭustomers were "gutted" when Bistrot Pierre closed its doors in July. Rio Brazilian Steakhouse has been looking for suitable sites on Teesside for months. They posted a pic of how the new restaurant could look on Facebook (Image: Gazette)

#Samba brazilian steakhouse tripadvisor

[failsandfortunes]

Trying digital art properly for the first time, and I’ve been listening to the Rivers of London series recently so have a strangely formatted tarot card! 

(Pose from @senshistock)

#rivers of london #thomas nightingale #the nightingale #rivers of London series #moon over soho #whispers underground #you know I’m actually really pleased with these #There are another two or so variants that I most post later with #the magician and le bateleur #i also don’t know why one of them is apparently sized differently on tumblr??? #they’re exactly the same in my save file #These are very much me working out how to use fresco #highly experimental #i might do others in this series #if I do does anyone have suggestions for other cards? #Fan art #my art #digital art #also how tf does fire work??? #how do I draw that????? #not like this that's for sure! #and yet