<b><p></b> <b>Wampus:</b> loud, clear voices; speaking up without fear; clenched jaws; sloppy handwriting; a commanding presence; the first inhale after coming up for air while swimming; strong noses that flare when angered; staying up until 3am laughing with friends; messy buns; strength training; bitten lips; cinnamon; fishnets; muscles shifting under a lover's fingertips; powerful thighs; neon and bright colors; chiles rellenos; that moment right before the free fall on a rollercoaster; scratch marks; the sound of a knife sharpening; fruit infused water; tongues burnt on midday coffee; kisses from big dogs; hair ties breaking; unsettled dust; linking arms; backless dresses; very hot baths; rock climbing; mosh pits; Doc Martens; smudged lipstick; spicy curry; tunnel graffiti; charcoal-stained fingertips; baring teeth; caffeine addiction; wrinkled noses; gasping between passionate kisses; sharp cut creases; holographic knives; 1967 Chevy Impala; heterochromia; the snap of leather; the scent of an extinguished match; hickeys; ripped leggings; inner ear headphones; screaming at the top of your lungs; twists; the sizzle of steak hitting the grill; strobe lights; the anticipation of a bassdrop; new age tattoos; dermal anchors.<p/><b>Thunderbird:</b> tilting faces toward the sun; mountains in the distance; bright smiles; weathered and worn books; hammocks; darjeeling tea; the look of awe and wonder; smirking; wavy hair; paper airplanes; muted nail color; sunkissed highlights; aster flowers and wildflowers; recycling; legs aching from standing and/or moving too long; trailing hands over tree trunks; wide, open spaces; stargazing; hipster fashion without hipster elitism; whistling along to the music in your head; lightning bugs landing on hands; music festivals; Sailor Moon; choker necklaces; abandoned railroad tracks; making custom playlists for friends; lifted pinkies when drinking; crochet braids; space buns; dresses with pockets; morning fog; being unafraid of, or even thrilled about, getting lost; high cheekbones; petrichor; feeling breathless contemplating existence; a light sheen of sweat; septum piercings; blushing from ears to chest; schadenfreude; OTEs; power lines; burnt marshmallows; accidentally dropping food on shirts; horizontal bamboo blinds; tripping over words around attractive people; vintage suitcases; reading field journals; Long Island iced tea; maypoles; handmade flower crowns; serendipity; elote; Volkswagen vans; bathhouses; windblown hair; pastel hair; homemade granola; picking up bits and pieces of language while traveling.<p/><b>Pukwudgie:</b> herbal tea; warm, fond smiles; dimples; brown eyes; being underestimated; thick blankets; humming along to music playing in the background; journaling; macadamia nuts; the sound of cicadas; tracing hands over tall grass; tight hugs; peaches; tiny, dainty tattoos; naturally long eyelashes; muddy hemlines; elderberry wine; holding hands; jumping as high as possible on a trampoline; rain pattering on a window; succulents; crystals; terrariums; bangles; flannel shirts; tear tracks; powder-lined cat eyes; finding an onion ring in your fries; balloons; throwing autumn leaves in the air; honey bees; stickers; apple cider; crickets chirping; damp cotton; Ford Farlaines; hide and seek; an unnoticed stumble; sunlight reflected on lake water; Eskimo kisses; ice cream melting over fingers; the twitching of squirrels' tails; raw spider silk; headwraps over natural hair; tapping toes to the beat; "Christian cussing" around children; competitive sand castle building; fiercely protecting others' autonomy; bunny teeth; dulce de leche; harmonizing; grass stains; gardening; gel pens; absolutely losing it to memes; angel bite piercings; naturally pink cheeks; the countdown before taking the plunge; freshly clipped nails; rushing to aide someone having a panic attack.<p/><b>Horned Serpent:</b> narrowed eyes and pursed lips; box braids; stacks of nonfiction books; satire; forehead kisses; hands gently caressing cheeks; helvetica; a collection of partially filled notebooks; a face softening in realization; diffused light; bitten nails; eavesdropping; Earl Grey tea; fencing; the sound of the A/C kicking on; A-line dresses; freshly shaved legs against cool, clean sheets; glass ceilings; minimalist tattoos; sketchbooks; cursing when spilling coffee over your notes; plum lipstick; thick-rimmed glasses; vindication; neutral tones; smudged makeup from rubbing eyes during an all-nighter; button-up shirts; aching fingers and wrists; taking a break from a project only to realize hours have passed; Cadillac Broughams; julienne cut vegetables; fish tacos; ankle socks; being 10 minutes early; origami; spiral staircases; soft smiles watching children learn; flyaway hairs; finger-walking on metal desks; mint ice cream; having a 10 or more kill streak; pressed flowers; silhouettes; the crunch of biting into an apple; limericks; sake; Frank Sinatra; lighthearted debates that turn into yelling matches; sphinx cats; pastel hair; deadbolts; elaborate mosaics; nostril piercings; YInMn blue.<p/></p><p/></p>
If you’re a classic art aficionado, you’ll recognize my reprint of a famous Georgia O'Keefe painting. She was famous for her paintings of oversized flowers that evoked images of female genetalia. So, unless you’ve been living in a cave since you were five (or only playing video games – same thing…), you will certainly recognize what this painting is. If not, it’s a black orchid, you idiot. Now get your mind out of the gutter.
I love people who break barriers that help open up the human soul and improve our lives. Georgia O'Keefe was one such woman, and she was light years ahead of her time. She was born in 1887 and lived 100 years. She really hit her stride in the late 1920s and 1930s, when she left NYC for New Mexico - the land of enchantment (before Walter White made it the land of meth…). She was a transformational influence on the art world, and society in general.
Think of those times, when sexuality was repressed. She brought it front and center into highbrow society, in a magical and erotic way. And to think all this from a woman who looked much like Lyndon Baines Johnson in drag. (Go ahead and google it, there are thousands of sites. Go on, do it!! Haha, made you look…. But do check out her later life pictures and tell me if you can’t see a more liberated LBJ looking back at you.)
I love the historic mavericks in U.S. history, particularly the women who broke down stereotypes. Women like Julia Morgan, the brilliant architect from California who designed so many epic buildings around the same time that Georgia was rocking the art world. Fortunately their impacts are highly visual, and permanent.
Side note: You probably know how I love vintage fashion, and I picked up this incredible slip last week from a local thrift store. It’s definitely silk, the high quality ‘raw silk’ type that has that has that unmistakable texture. The label was removed, so I can’t tell if it’s vintage or modern. It has all the attributes of a classic vintage piece, down to the subtly beautiful embroidered floral pattern in the bodice. It’s also small as hell, which makes me think it might have been made many decades ago.
“The spirit to live in the moment, making the most of it. The palette of Brick red and cerulean signifies zest for life. Playing with natural fabrics such as breezy semi linens, cascading and raw silk, Nauman gives wings to fly free. While digitally printed scarves add vibrancy, camel hued bags give a touch of strength to the collection. Check prints and accessories are there to balance the look. Carpe Diem is for the one who flies solo and has the strongest wings.”
Inspired by @triruntu‘s gorgeous art, today’s unfinished fic with no future is cyberpunk burlesque, featuring nonbinary cyborg Jack. I want to try coming back to this setting from a different angle, but I realized I set up this particular attempt with no real opportunity for any movement. It’d work as the opening to something MUCH longer, but I’m not going to try that because I can’t finish long things.
Gabriel’s never been to a place like this before. His army buddies brought him as a congratulations for his promotion. Major Gabriel Reyes.
Nightclub, brothel and burlesque palace all rolled into one; the place is legendary in gossip circles. They say that if you can afford the admission price then you can find pretty much anything you could wish for: man, woman or enbee; human, cyborg or omnic. Robofucking hasn’t exactly been on the list of socially acceptable pastimes since the Omnic Crisis, but that only ever seems to increase the appeal when it comes to fetishes.
Rex/Obi-wan pretending to be married for an undercover mission
“And of course your husband must be
thrilled with this promotion of yours.” The woman gushed at him and
Rex forced a smile on his face even as he wanted to bash his head
against the nearest wall or grab several drinks and get drunker then
Hardcase on brandy.
“Very much so, the salary it pays is
enough to keep us well cared for.” Rex tucked his arms behind his
back. “Being a carrier soldier means we don’t get to see each
other as much as we would like but at least I keep food on the table
and know he’s safe.” Rex added.
As the noble in front of him kept
gushing, he glanced over her head to where Obi-Wan was charming
another woman with his words, two drinks in his hands. So that’s
why his ‘husband’ hadn’t returned as quickly as he should have.
“Excuse me, it seems Ben has managed
to attract himself some…unwanted attention.” He smiled and moved
away before she could comment, sliding to Obi-Wan’s side and
wrapping his arm around the others waist. “Ben love, I wondered
where you went.” He offered pleasantly.
Obi-Wan instantly looked up at him and
gave him a small smile, offering Rex the drink in his left hand. “I’m
sorry, Senatorial aid Nuraga here wanted t-oh, he’s gone.”
Obi-Wan hid a small smirk with his drink as Rex tightened his grasp
about his waist a bit.
“What a shame.” Rex grunted a bit
before looking at Obi-Wan and sipping down the drink in his hand.
“You got what you wanted?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, socialized a bit,
mingled…are you tired love?” The copper haired man questioned
lightly, leaning against Rex side as if it was the most natural thing
in the world.
“A bit, I wouldn’t mind taking an
early night.” He shrugged.
“Early night then love.” Obi-Wan
grinned up at him, the flop of his hair falling in his eyes as he
peered up at Rex with his head tilted a bit downwards.
Oh if there was ever a time Rex wanted
to press the other to a counter…
“So, you got the bugs planted and
confirmed a Senatorial aid working with CIS?” Rex sat down on the
bed, watching the Jedi move about the room they rented.
“Mhmm.” Obi-Wan offered while
leaning on the desk to type in some instructions.
Rex watched him, smiling a bit at how
good Obi-Wan looked. “…The vest suits you.”
“I’m sorry?” Obi-Wan blinked,
looking at him.
“The vest. It suits you. The color
and all.” Rex pointed out.
The Jedi stood and looked down at
himself, taking in the black slacks and purple vest with bronze
thread as its decoration. He ran his hands over the raw silk of it
and looked back at Rex who was pushing of the bed and moving towards
him with an all to familiar glitter in his eyes.
“The same could be said for you.
Civilian outfit suits you.” Obi-Wan countered quietly and Rex
chuckled as he caged Obi-Wan between his arms against the wall,
peering at him.
“So…are we going to pretend the
kissing didn’t happen?”
“I don’t know. Are we?” The Jedi
countered, raising his chin.
“I don’t particularly want to
pretend.” The captain shrugged.
“You do know as a Jedi I can-”
“Attachment, I know. But are you
going to deny there’s an attraction between us?” Rex raised his
“I like most clones.”
“Yes, Cody mentioned that to me.”
“…I’ll need to have a few words
with Cody about discretion.”
Rex laughed lowly before leaning in
until his breath was washing over Obi-Wan’s lips. “Most clones
know which Jedi are interested in us. It makes it easier if we in
turn like certain Jedi.”
Obi-Wan raised his brows. “You’re
“No. If its an open relationship,
like most of you Jedi seem open minded too, then we try our luck.
Like I’m doing now.” He bumped his nose against the Jedi’s.
Obi-Wan hesitated and Rex knew that the
other could slip away any moment he wanted.
Yet he hadn’t.
It gave Rex hope.
“I guess…if you can keep it
professional just like Co-” Rex didn’t need more permission then
that and closed the Jedi in his arms, pressing a slow kiss to his
lips while backing towards the bed and bringing Obi-Wan with him
until he hit the bed and sat down, pulling the Jedi with him.
“Was hoping you’d say that.” He
growled quietly as Obi-Wan straddled him.
His answer was a breathless laugh and
At home with Phryne Fisher: now you see it, now you see it again Pt 13
“Marion had the silk cardigan fabric and when she started designing for Phryne this was the first time she wanted to cut it up.”
(MFMM Costume Exhibition catalogue, 2014)
Phryne’s beautiful, soft silk knit long line cardigan is for ‘at home’. She wears it over cream silk faille pants or raw silk skirt together with cream silk blouses of various necklines and collars - tie, mandarin, v-neck, round, roll, cowl and boat necks. She accessorises it with a long scarf with gold thread that follows the line of the cardigan, or a green silk chiffon brooch. Phryne looks relaxed and casual but elegant and stylish to entertain, and interrogate!
Right from the first episode, home sitting rooms double as investigation rooms. In Series 1 Episode 1 Cocaine Blues, headache powders are suspected of being laced with cocaine - Phryne confirms the doctor’s opinion.
Phryne: Definitely cocaine.
Mac: I’m the doctor.
Phryne: Just to make sure.
Jack learns early on that he needs to find a place in the St Kilda incident rooms if his cases are to run smoothly. In Murder on the Ballarat Train an offer of tea precedes an offer of evidence. This time a green ‘sea anemone’ silk chiffon brooch augments the outfit.
Phryne: Morning, Inspector. I was just on my way to see you.
Jack: To explain yourself, I hope.
Jack: I can’t believe your hide. Appropriating a child who should have been in the care of the state.
Phryne: State care? You know what those places are like. And if that woman was Jane’s aunt, I’ll eat my cloche. The poor child clearly loathed her.
Jack: None of this explains how that ‘poor child’ came to be in possession of Mrs Henderson’s jewels, or what she had to do with the murder.
Phryne: It’s lucky for you I convinced Jane she should speak with you. Come in, Jane!
And from her own home to another’s in The Green Mill Murder, the cream and gold accessories blend seamlessly with the Freeman’s decor. The Freemans are a family in crisis - societal prejudice and family secrets lead to confrontation and tension as Phryne finds ways to solve and absolve.
Death By Miss Adventure supports a similar theme of bigotry as the episode reopens wounds for Phryne with the reappearance of Murdoch Foyle, and Mac hides her own wounds - ironic for a doctor. Mac finds it difficult to open up to her closest friend, even in the comfort of her parlour.
Aunt P voices society’s intolerance of difference in a visit to Phryne’s home to warn her of the hospital board’s view of Dr Mac’s ‘unconventional activities’. The setting and Phryne’s outfit are in parallel for both conversations.
Narrow views of women’s place in society, with car racing as a metaphor, provoke reactions from Phryne in Blood at the Wheel. Her parlour and the cream outfit with green sea anemone silk chiffon brooch, play host to meetings with two men, one immediately after the other, Lachlan Pepper from the VAA and Jack.
Peppercomes to Phryne’s home to ensure she cannot race in place of Gerty Haynes. He dismisses suggestions of race fixing, is offhand at the mention of past attachments and perfunctory in his manner.
Pepper: You women are all the same.
Phryne: I’m quite sure we aren’t.
Pepper: Ah, no, your threats are wasted on me, Miss Fisher. Your driving offences are on the record. My hands are tied… Good evening to you too, Miss Fisher.
Wheels within wheels as the confrontation with Pepper is immediately followed by a quieter dissonance between Phryne and Jack. At this point Jack is unable to express the depth of his feelings for her, and she is so distracted by the case that she misreads the reasons for his dark mood and disquiet.
Phryne: Did you follow up on Antony’s story?
Jack: The girl can’t be found, but the manager of the York Street Hotel thinks Mr Rose checked in.
Phryne: Hardly watertight.
Jack: No, but I can’t question him again without further evidence.
Phryne: But you could question our friend Pepper. See what comes to light.
Jack: I intend to. I’ll see myself out.
And so ends one of the most devastating scenes in the show (IMHO).
Thank goodness the cardigan makes another appearance and I don’t have to end the post at this point. Dead Air has the cardigan and cream accessories playing host in Phryne’s parlour to interviews and evidence sharing again.
First to the all-too-helpful Jimmy Creswick:
Phryne: While you’re here, I would like a quiet word about Louisa.
Creswick: Of course.
And then to Jack/Archie. Here again we have mirroring of setting and outfits as in Miss Adventure and Wheel, but on this occasion the chord struck between Phryne and 'Archie’ is anything but dissonant.
Jack: Who told Hazel Creswick I should diversify into singing?
Phryne: I’m not sure, but it certainly is a wonderful suggestion.
Jack: I’m glad my feeble undercover attempt provides you with amusement.
Phryne: I look for joy in all the dark places, Archie.
I think Archie quite likes the thought of the dark places.
OG pirate prompter here! Might I prompt you with pirate!Qui-Gon feeling the pressures of a mutinous crew for his less than pirate like behavior towards Obi-Wan with his hand being forced into a public ravishment and Obi-Wan secretly loving it?
Qui-Gon Jinn was by no means a stupid
He knew how the galaxy spun and how to
read people so he knew when he was making a bad deal though he
imagined the sensation of an itch across his skin was also a big
clue, the Force as Obi-Wan said.
So he knew when his crew started to
mutter quietly among themselves about his less forceful behavior with
Obi-Wan, wondering if Qui-Gon was going soft, wondering if he was
going to become a Republic lapdog because of his lust (love a voice
whispered in the back of his head) for the Jedi.
They had reason to worry of course,
Obi-Wan was making Qui-Gon soft.
But he’d never rat them out!
No, he had more dignity then that, he
was no damn hutt!
So a delicate balance had to be struck.
The spot where he respected his lover
and the spot where he kept his men in line and it was coming to a
head. He may have to choose to cross a border with Obi-Wan that the
other would never forgive him for.
Sith spawned hells, this was not good.
He had to take a choice.
And he took it.
He grabbed Obi-Wan by the wrist when
the man walked past him to head to Qui-Gon’s quarters, pulling him
into the pirates lap with a swift tug that de-balanced the Jedi.
Covering Obi-Wan’s lips with his, he
kept a firm hold on both wrists so he couldn’t struggle away,
Obi-Wan’s hands going to his chest to push. Qui-Gon was durasteel
though under the catcalls and whistles of his men.
And then he was gone in the taste of
Obi-Wan, his mouth tasting of bitter ale and sweet pies as he pushed
closer, growling quietly as he nipped the others lips open and firmly
pushed into it with his tongue, ravishing the Jedi suddenly moaning
in his lap with his hands fisted into Qui-Gon’s raw silk shirt.
Large hands went to the others thighs,
picking him up and dropping him on the table in front of the pirate
captain, pinning the Jedi to the surface with his bigger bulk only
leaving now kiss swollen lips once air became an issue.
But of course there were other places
Like the pale column of Obi-Wan’s
neck that deserved to be worshiped and covered in hickies.
Legs wrapped around his hips as he went
for it, sinking teeth into it to provoke a reaction, the moan making
Qui-Gon chuckle even as he tugged on the belt and obi of the Jedi
uniform, loosening them enough to slide his hand beneath the tunic,
appreciatively caressing the twitching muscles of the redhead’s
“Aaaah!” Obi-Wan gasped beneath his
touch and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but tug at the clothes enough to
expose a bit of the others collarbone, latching onto the junction
between shoulder and neck.
He bit down a bit harder then needed,
almost desperate to leave behind a permanent mark before easing and
sucking on it as his fingers teased the hidden red trail of Obi-Wan’s
groin as the Jedi whimpered.
The sound of a wolf whistle brought
Qui-Gon back, the sound of that whimper wasn’t something he wanted
to share and he pulled up enough to look at Obi-Wan’s flushed face
and parted kiss swollen lips with the Jedi tunics askew on him to
expose the pale freckled skin of the master’s neck, right shoulder
and parts of his collarbone.
A throb went through Qui-Gon’s frame
before he lifted his head and smirked at his men. “I do believe I’m
going to retire now.” He offered before pushing from the table and
lifting the Jedi up over his shoulder, giving his butt a pat for show
and heading out to the sound of cat calls and cheering.
“…Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan panted when
they were finally alone and far enough away not to be heard.
“Apologies Obi-Wan, my crew was
starting to get mutinous in the face of my less then…ah…”
“Buccaneerish behavior?” Obi-Wan
snorted a bit.
“I was going to go with privateer
behavior.” Qui-Gon offered in mock wounded pride. “But I do
apologies for basically fondling you in public.” He sighed.
“…I didn’t actually mind it that
much.” The Jedi on his shoulder confessed.
“I was not going to mention the
erection poking my shoulder if I was honest but now I will after that admission. Public
displays Obi-Wan? My what would your council say.”
On this day in music history: March 24, 1986 - “Please”, the debut album by the Pet Shop Boys is released. Produced by Stephen Hague, it is recorded at Advision Studios in London, UK from Mid 1984 - Late 1985. After their split with dance music producer Bobby “Bobby O” Orlando, Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe sign a recording contract with EMI Records subsidiary Parlophone Records in 1984. The duo also collaborate with dance music musician Ron Dean Miller (Nuance & Vikki Love, Raw Silk), as well as Art Of Noise keyboardist/programmer J.J. Jeczalik, Roxy Music saxophonist Andy Mackay, former Bee Gees keyboardist Blue Weaver and vocalist Helena Springs. The British synth-pop duo title their album as such so that fans could simply ask for “the Pet Shop Boys album, “Please”. It is a huge worldwide success, spinning off four singles including “West End Girls” (#1 UK and US), “Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots Of Money)” (#10 US Pop, #11 UK), and “Love Comes Quickly” (#19 UK, #54 US Pop). The albums’ stark, minimalist cover graphics are designed by graphic artist Mark Farrow at Circle 3 (with an extra small cover photo of the duo taken by Smash Hits Magazine photographer Eric Watson, a friend of Tennant’s from his days as a writer and editor for the UK music magazine. Watson also directs several music videos for PSB.), who designs many distinctive album and single sleeve covers for The Pet Shop Boys over the years. The album is remastered and reissued on CD in 2001 as a double CD deluxe edition titled “Please/Further Listening - 1984 - 1986”. The first disc features the original eleven track album, with the second disc including thirteen bonus tracks consisting of extended 12" mixes, single edits and B-sides. “Please” peaks at number three on the UK album chart, number seven on the Billboard Top 200, and is certified Platinum in the US by the RIAA.
I slightly know a Lady
a Woman a Girl
I think i saw all three
I think there may be more
hidden beneath the skin
like seeds in a pomegranate
waiting for the keenest blade
I doubt my sharpness
would make the grade
I did notice the blouse
of raw silk sophistication
and the practical shoes
the best to reach a destination
a mixture of sense and sensibility
poise and practicality
control and curiosity
but those are only the
opinions of a limited male
trying to put into words
the whole of something
beyond the wit of (a) man