Otabek had never planned to go into fashion photography, but as fate would have it, he has an eye for camera angles that fashion magazines highly favor. Now he’s done this so many times that it’s second nature.
He already has his cameras and lenses set up behind him, the preliminary camera in hand. He focuses the lens on the lights, on the background, on the people milling about, on the clothing that hangs on the racks around. Snaps a few pictures here and there. He likes having images of the setting for himself, to remember where he was, how he’s progressing and where he’s going.
As he clicks through the photos, he pauses to zoom in on the fabric. A wide variety of tacky, overdone animal prints. He grimaces. He’s seen some bad fashion in his time in the industry, but this one is definitely high on the list of things he’d never wear. How could anyone look good wearing what looks like dead, dyed animal skin?
With a sigh, he lowers the camera. A door opens off to the right and he hears one of the managers ushering the model in. Otabek tilts his head backs and hopes for a model who will listen, who will take his non-verbal queues and cooperate. He’s not a talkative photographer and works better when the models understand that.
“If you’ll just head over to the–”
“I know where the fuck to go.”Otabek grits his teeth. Great. A model with an attitude. He doesn’t think this shoot with last.
So, Caesar is interesting to me because of his rather startlingly negative character development, especially in comparison to basically everyone else on the protagonist’s side in Battle Tendency.
When we first meet him, he embodies pretty much everything you would expect of the role model rival character: the opposite of Joseph’s difficult nature, Caesar is older, better trained, more driven, a scholar and an actually successful ladies’ man. He’s depicted as passionate about his duty while also being calm in persuasion…
…and slowly, we see this image of him deconstructed over the course of the part. It turns out that any Hamon advantage he had beforehand was mitigated once we find out his and Joseph’s are actually equal, and when it comes to improvisational thinking and flexibility, he’s far too stuck in his mindset to assess when he may need to change his strategy mid-battle. He is driven, that much can’t be denied–but not healthily. Twice he is pushed forward by, and only by, a deep-seated and powerful hatred that quickly overcomes reason in heated moments.
The first, his driving force throughout childhood, was to confront and very likely even kill his own father–only for those years spent hating him to crumble once Mario was killed by the pillar men instead. He gained no closure and lost everything for no gain. The second-the push to kill the pillar men at all costs–lead him to neglect any sense of self-preservation or caution in a desperate scramble for that closure, to not only avenge his father but to give some sort of meaning back to those lost years of his life, and as an act of penance towards his family in general.
Ultimately, ever single facet of his successful facade shatters during the argument at the hotel, and when we see Caesar charge in recklessly, we’re seeing perhaps the closest to his truest inner emotions that we, the viewers, have experienced yet. We get to see him at his weakest and most vulnerable and reckless shortly before he dies.
And this is what I mean by negative character development–he dies losing. He dies of his own weakness, of not being able to rein himself in, of letting the fantasy of revenge cloud his judgments to the point where the whole thing could’ve been easily avoided were he able to think more calmly. He dies butchering his own plan mid-victory; hell, he doesn’t even die taking his opponent down–Wamuu is perfectly fine once he’s able to heal himself. Caesar dies ultimately worse off than when we first meet him, with no closure, showing himself to be very lonely, and in a broken state of mind. At the very least, he is able to snatch the ring, but that’s about it.
The reveal of Caesar’s (major) flaws goes hand-in-hand with his humanization and ultimately makes him someone the audience sympathizes with. The introduction of his hot-headed traits over the course of the part show him to not be devoid of attachment, as some of the audience and Joseph himself may initially presume, but to be consumed by his attachments–his dedication and loyalty towards family, friends, and ideals is so strong as to sometimes override common sense. It’s the reveal that he is just a human, that he isn’t less prone to mistakes and flaws in judgment than Joseph or even Lisa Lisa (whose own past failures we learn about in backstory later on) that makes the flaws of his character into strengths of storytelling.
Anyway, I’ve always been bad at conclusions and I should probably check the food on the stove.
What about McKirk with one of them being an art class student and the other an art class model?
Uhura talked him into this. The idea is uncomfortable at best, but she promises him to take him out to dinner after, and Leonard isn’t one to decline free food. And so Leonard shows up in her art classes to model. He expects it to be awkward, and perhaps in a way it is. He’s not really supposed to move much, but at least his pose doesn’t require him to stand for hours. He just sits down and reads a book while students draw the way he sits, or something. Either way, reading some fiction while earning free food isn’t that unpleasant at all, even if the may eyes on him make him feel a little uncomfortable.
He doesn’t even think about it until a few days later when he’s grocery shopping. “Oh hey, you’re the art model,” a guy says, and Leonard’s briefly convinced the guy next to him is talking to someone else because it’s so bizarre. “Excuse me?” “The art model,” the other replies, “from Uhura’s class?” “Oh, I’m not a model,” Leonard laughs at that, “I just helped her out.” “Looked pretty model-y to me,” the other replies. “Model-y? That’s not a word,” Leonard says, and the other smiles. “I’m Jim.” “Leonard.” “I have a question, Leonard. For one of my other modeling classes, would you like to model for me again? I’ll pay you.” Leonard glances at him a little suspiciously, but when Jim adds: “I’ll get us food”, it’s a done deal.
He expects Jim to live in a dorm room, but Jim has his own apartment just outside the campus. It’s small and above a pizza place Leonard assumes Jim visits a little too often, judging by the empty pizza boxes just outside his front door. “You like pizza, huh?” “Everyone likes pizza,” Jim comments, “don’t tell me you don’t, because I don’t think I can take you seriously if you don’t.” “Of course I like pizza.” “Good,” Jim says, “after I’m done, we’ll run downstairs and buy a slice.”
Leonard sits quietly by the window of Jim’s apartment, the sound of pencil on paper oddly soothing. He watches people and cars pass by, some of the people carrying pizza boxes in their arms. Occasionally he looks on his phone, but mostly he’s actually talking to Jim. “Dude, I can’t believe you’ve never even seen Star Wars,” Jim says, “what is wrong with you?” “What is wrong with you?” Leonard counters, “it’s just a movie.” “It’s a classic!” Jim says, “I’m sorry, but now I gotta ask you for a movie date.” “You want to watch Star Wars with a stranger?” Leonard asks, and Jim smiles. “Not a stranger, a model. And since we’re having pizza, see the movie as a second date.” “I wasn’t even aware this is our first date,” Leonard says, and Jim laughs. “Don’t worry, the day’s still young.”
They go for pizza after Jim’s done, and it’s pretty damn good pizza. They sit just outside the restaurant on the bench, watching people pass by while talking about everything and nothing. Movies, jobs, hopes and dreams, that kind of thing. And though it’s quite a walk home from Jim’s place to Leonard’s, Jim just walks with him.
“We should do this again some time,” Jim says when they finally arrive at Leonard’s house, and Jim smiles lightly. “Weren’t we going to do movies?” “Oh, yes,” Jim says, “absolutely we are. I wasn’t sure if you were going to let me.” “I’ll let you,” Leonard says. “Good,” Jim replies, “can I also use you more often as a model? Uhura’s got good taste.” “I don’t think Uhura has any interest in me.” “I mean, she has good taste in picking art class models,” Jim laughs, “and I’m glad she doesn’t have an interest in you. That means I don’t have to feel guilty about actually being interested.” “You are very bold,” Leonard says, and Jim simply shrugs. “What can I say? No point in dancing around the subject. I fancy you, and I’ve enjoyed your company.” Leonard leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. And when Leonard pulls away, Jim just grabs him and keeps him close for more. “So,” Jim says eventually, arms circling around Leonard’s shoulder, “what if I ever need a nude mode-” “No.”
Request: Hey could you write a tony stark
x reader one? He’s been seeing the reader for a few months and it baffles
people cause she’s nothing like his typical women. She dresses casual, bad
table manners and a crude sense of humor plus she’s short and curvy? She starts
hearing rumors about their relationship and feels self conscious and asks why
he chose her. She reassures her and tells her that it’s refreshing to be with
someone real and he loves her.
You had been dating Tony Stark for a few months now, and
people were surprised to say the least.
I really wish we could just somehow make neighborhoods be more like college campuses, but unfortunately that whole model is built on people all working (or schooling or whatever) in the same place and more or less committing to not moving for four years. (It could also be relying on people not having kids, but if anything I would expect the college campus model to be better at having local daycare services and safe, stimulating places for kids to play, so I don’t think that’s it.
YOI Headcanon: Victor owns (at least) one pair of sexy underwear with PROPERTY OF KATSUKI YUURI printed across the ass.
Victor doesn’t know Phichit well. They’ve met, of course, they’ve drunk together, eaten together, stood next to each other, even talked over video call with Yuuri. But most of what he knows about the Thai skater is from the stories Yuuri has told him.
Which is why he’s surprised when Yuuri hands over a package to him a week after his birthday. It’s wrapped half in christmas paper, half in birthday paper. It looks sloppy, but endearing. “It’s from Phichit,” Yuuri says, sounding just as surprised as Victor feels.
“Why?” Victor asks, but grabs the present quickly, excited that someone cares enough to send him even just something small.
The tag reads ‘To Vic for your Birthmas, Love, Phichit’
“I was going to call him tonight, so you should probably open it before he asks about it.” Yuuri tells him, settling onto the couch next to Victor, one leg tucked under him.
“It’s a little belated,” Victor says, turning the soft package over in his hands, trying to guess what might be inside.
“It was in with that ‘care package’ he sent me for the new year,” Yuuri says. “It was mostly just Thai candy, but that was tucked in there too.”
Victor smiles, knowing that Yuuri’s actually really appreciative of Phichit sending him little things like that. Yuuri has quite a sweet tooth sometimes, and there’s certain sweets that Phichit introduced him to that he can’t get in local supermarkets that he craves. He’s probably upset Phichit took up precious candy-space in his package for Victor’s gift.
“Just open it,” Yuuri says, watching the way Victor picks at the tape.
Victor dives in with a smile, tearing the eclectic wrapping paper off. He blinks when he pulls out what’s inside. It’s a pair of underwear. What looks to be a tight, bright-red briefs.
“Uuuuuh,” he says, holding them up.
Yuuri’s frozen beside him, body tense, staring wide-eyed at the red fabric. It’s an odd choice for a present, but Phichit’s always been a little wild, Victor’s thought, so he’s not terribly surprised. Not like Yuuri is.
“I, ah-” Yuuri stutters, his whole face beginning to turn the same shade as the underwear.
Victor turns the briefs over in his hand, confused as to why Yuuri’s so flustered. It’s not like it’s terribly embarrassing- oh. There, printed on the back, right over the ass portion, in bright white letters, it reads ‘Property of Yuuri Katsuki’.
Victor starts blushing too. To think Phichit would send something like this to him when they don’t know each other well enough. To think he spent money getting a pair of underwear custom-made. “I, ah, I don’t think I’ll be able to wear these outside the house,” Victor says, thinking about how if he anyone at the rink caught glimpse of them in the change room, he’d never hear the end of it. Not that what’s printed on the ass isn’t noticeable to everyone anyway. “I’ll have to say thank you, I guess, but I hope he doesn’t expect me to model them.”
Victor looks over at Yuuri just as he’s licking his bottom lip. “Put them on,” Yuuri says in a dark voice.
“Hmmm?” Victor blinks.
“Not really a present for you, it seems,” Yuuri says quietly, his face still red, but his eyes are focused, “put them on. Now.”
Victor scrambles to take his pants off.
Apparently, even though they need to get to know each other better, Phichit knows Yuuri all too well. Victor will have to thank him later.
((I would give anything to see a drawing of Victor wearing this underwear.))
Returning to her desk from the bathroom, Kate Beckett
strolled confidently through the bullpen, nodding to her coworkers as she
passed them by. She and her team had just wrapped up another successful case
and she was looking forward to a few days without tracking down a killer—assuming
the seedy underbelly of New York would comply.
As she rounded the corner of the hall leading towards her
desk, Kate saw before her a sight that while not unusual was peculiar nonetheless.
Ryan was seated at his desk with Esposito and Castle crowded on either side of
him; they all appeared to be studying something intently. She rolled her eyes,
initially thinking it was something mildly salacious on Ryan’s computer screen,
but the closer she got she realized the screensaver was on, and their focus was
on something resting on Ryan’s desk.
“What are you boys doing?” she asked a bit louder than
necessary in hopes of startling them. She did and they all jumped apart while unanimously
Kate narrow her eyes as she gazed at each guilty man’s face
trying to interpret their nervousness. She studied them for the better part of
a minute, mostly just to make them sweat, before saying, “Nothing means
something. Let’s see it.”
She held out her hand and the boys crowded protectively
around Ryan’s seat. “No; it’s nothing.”
With an eye roll and long suffering exhale, Kate stepped
forward and reached through them to grasp at the pages sitting in front of Ryan’s
keyboard. While the boys chorused, “No! Wait! Don’t!” she yanked the magazine
forward and held it open in her left hand to examine it.
Though she had half been expecting a scantily clad model in
GQ or even an article with a get-better-at-sex type theme, she was utterly
floored to discover they were not only looking at a women’s magazine, but a
quiz in a women’s magazine! “’Your coffee habits will reveal the hair color of
your next boyfriend’?” She read with a squeak. “Guys!”
Ryan stood from his desk and quickly attempted damage
control. “It’s, ah, Jenny’s…she left it…in my bag…”
She arched a skeptical eyebrow at them before gazing back
down at the page. Honestly! The quiz seemed more fitted for a teen magazine
than anything else. “I see. Well I can’t wait to meet your next beau, Espo.”
The detective squeaked. “Me!? Wha—no! Castle was taking the
Kate rotated her head so she could stare at the writer. He
appeared mortified and she could hardly contain the laugh bubbling in her
chest. Fighting to keep her expression neutral she tilted her head to the side
and said, “Was he now? And here I was so adamant to Natalie Rhodes that you weren’t
We are Nintendo. We challenge all players. You cannot beat us.
It’s a blast from the past! These models are recreations from one of the most memorable Nintendo commercials, courtesy of 80s Australia. I know I previously mentioned that I wouldn’t model anything from Gyromite, and I certainly didn’t expect to model anything from Duck Hunt, but I couldn’t resist recreating all of them.
Making these models was a lot of fun. In fact, it was so fun, that I think I’ll permanently switch to using this style for all of my future models. I may even redo all of my old models and toss the old ones. And of course, first up on my to-do list with this new art style is fan-favorite Geno!
The book describes a ‘Triple Bind’ that many young women and girls experience, and carry into adult life. These are basically three conditions that cannot conflict to remain valid, but inherently contradict:
Be good at all the ‘girl stuff.’ That’s not just performative femininity, looking ‘like a girl’ and having access to resources required for feminine appearance. But also performing all of the emotional labor expected from girls, roles expected from girls, and be good at them.
Be good at all the ‘guy stuff.’ If you want to survive in our current culture, women need to ‘trespass’ into activities that our culture once coded exclusively male like work and careers, sometimes in school sports, being aggressive or assertive in projects, sometimes just having access to and spending money. This includes emotional approach and labor, performing a sort of numbers-filed-off suggestion of masculinity because the feminine is inherently considered subordinate. But not one that’s ‘good enough’ to transgress against assigned gender, or has access to challenge men in their own sphere of life.
You MUST conform to the above, within a narrow set of standards of success that can’t mutually fulfill both of the prior conditions completely. Women’s role models are expected to have both traits, but not too much of both or either. You can be a star athlete, but people will criticize the same body they celebrate. You can be a successful career person but be prepared to be seen as cold, demanding, and non-maternal. Alternatively, you can be a mother but you better not be one of those no-career moms who just aren’t Feminist™. But a mother with a job is a bad mother and a bad worker because she’s not one thing or the other. You can be a tomboy but you better not transgress against the gender binary or heteronormativity too much. Girls who don’t wear blue jeans and aren’t cool with ‘the guys’ aren’t ‘cool.’ But some (gross men) want those girls because feminine girls are typified as not aggressive. But you better not have worn a skirt to the club, because you were asking for what happened next. You also better be aware of all of this, in control at all times and not have any form of disability or mental illness that effects your behavior or presentation.
Because the ‘girl stuff’ and the ‘guy stuff’ contradict (many people have described femininity as a lack of masculinity, and masculinity as a lack of femininity) it’s impossible to meet both demands at the same time in a satisfactory way. And then the third part of the bind that you must meet both, that it is not optional further traps women and girls. Basically it is a hell of inauthenticity that can leave someone feeling empty trying to meet all of these contradictory demands, inevitably doing something ‘wrong,’ and never being able to tell what is actually their real personality and what is just something that was expected of them that they can’t actually ever succeed at properly.
Because it’s impossible to fill these demands, so much media,
both by men who idealize a woman who magically achieves the contradictory demands (think: women by Joss Whedon)
and by women and girls who are tortured and are trying to invent ‘better’ versions of themselves that fulfill the contradictory demands (think: women by Stephanie Meyer)
depicts women and girls that come across as ‘too perfect’ or else strangely not subject to reality or their environment that in real life maintains we can’t ‘have it all.’
And yeah some of it is misogyny– there’s no reason to call Rey from Star Wars a Mary Sue other than that you think women shouldn’t be competent at anything.
But you can’t deny that in a lot of media women’s power fantasies are not merely about ability or image, but about control: achieving a very specific sort of ideal persona that is able to be in control of patriarchal demands upon them, perfectly respond to everything society asks of women. Be strong but not so strong you threaten men. Be maternal but not too maternal, and still do all of that work to reassure men that you’re there for them. Be one of the guys, but don’t lose your feminine appeal to them. Be sexual and model a typified-male detached view of sexual encounters, but don’t be a slut. Be beautiful, but don’t come across as if you need to maintain your beauty. Be powerful, but remain firmly within the male gaze. Be independent, but not too independent.
It really can feel like the only way anybody in real life could somehow fulfill all of this at once is to sell your soul to demons. A lot of lateral hostility among women follows that script. it’s framed as ‘jealousy’ but it’s more complex than that. It’s a warped perception that some other women ‘have’ managed to fill the triple bind a little, and a self-loathing that we can’t. She must have sold her soul somehow, is faker, is more superficial than we are, to have met some of her contradictory hell demands.
Often this kind of anger has to do with hatred or idolization of money, which is one of the ways to lessen the triple bind; be able to buy all this shit that fills the image and makes it ‘easier’ for some women. But it better not be your career. Get a rich husband. But then you’re a gold digger. And it begins again.
So in the end that picture isn’t just a joke about summoning demons to gain control over your life and avoid the eventual mediocrity all people will achieve in some aspect of their lives. Intentionally or not, It’s also about women discussing that they are in hell and the only way one could ever win is to somehow impossibly bend the demons to their will. It’s a bitter joke because in real life you can’t make the patriarchy lay off of you, just as much as you can’t actually ritually summon imps to do all your chores.