x,3 Finally, my latest Solavellan piece is finished!!! <3333 (Thank you all so much for liking and sharing my WIP sketch of this; I couldn’t believe it! ;u; <3)
This was a commission done for lovelykotori on DeviantART, featuring her beautiful rogue Saskia Lavellan~ *u* She gave me total artistic freedom with the scene, and once I thought, “Paint fight?” I just leapt with it.
May the Dread Wolf take you all. •w•
~ Prints of my work will
soon be available online! Look for more from Sarah
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moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed
“Shinichi, don’t.” Ran says, her voice quiet in the dim light. A full moon shines through the giant bay windows and bathes the hotel room in a soft pale glow. “It was a case. It’s always a case.”
“Ran,” Shinichi repeats, helpless, lost the way he always is around her. In but a look, she robs him of the ability to think. Oh, but she is gorgeous in her tattered white wedding dress. They’d had a western wedding, and the white lace of the bodice makes her look like an angel. Well, more so than she already is, in any case. She is glowing in the soft moonlight, even with her tear-stained cheeks. She picks at the hem of her dress. At some point in the frantic chase, she’d torn it on something, and it is stained with mud and filth. “I’m sorry,” is all he can say. She’s beautiful, even so.
“I’m tired of apologies. I'm tired of excuses,” she says, turning so he sees her in profile. Her full, heavy bust, trim waist, lean muscle that still makes him go weak in the knees. The curve of her hip as the dress flares into tulle, the veil blending almost perfectly in with it. She has fresh orchids in her hair; wilted now, but still gorgeous, the purple flowers bright against the off-white. “I’m just tired, Shinichi.”
do u ever just see one of those basic ass anti-terf posts (“anyway terfs are all ugly and they can choke” or something similar) and u look at the “cartoon-character-against-terfs” url… and u look at the weird anime icon… and u look at the description and see that it’s a fourteen year old with they pronouns… and u can just tell that those kids are like so fucking weird in real life like please if you insist on having an edgy phase can you just go listen to my chemical romance and get choppy layers in ur hair like every other kid instead of harassing lesbians on the internet
“At once ardent and analytical, cerebral and swooning, Carol is a study in human magnetism, in the physics and optics of eros. With sparse dialogue and restrained drama, the film is a symphony of angles and glances, of colors and shadows. It gives emotional and philosophical weight to what might be a perfectly banal question: What do these women see each in each other?… In this film’s version of the 1950s, nobody necessarily suspects that two women out for coffee or cocktails or a drive in the country might in fact be lovers. When such suspicion does arise, the consequences can be unfathomably cruel. Shame, exposure and ostracism lurk in every stranger’s glance. A rumor can ruin a life. Terror hovers in the air along with yearning, but Mr. Haynes honors [novelist Patricia] Highsmith’s decision to tell a tale of same-sex love stripped of pathology or tragedy. There is plenty of melodrama, though, and more than a touch of film noir. Carol filters a relatively happy romance through layers of anxiety, dread and psychological suspense.” — A.O. Scott, New York Times (November 2015)
Uh. She sniffles a lot. And there are handkerchiefs. And she tries to get up and move and stuff and Adam can only get her to stay in fucking bed by promising to read to her.
“I thought you didn’t like reading aloud?”
“I don’t. My voice always sounds funny. It was too gravelly and growly, and now it’s too…light. And human.”
“Read to me.” He can’t tell if the sneeze that follows is natural or a ruthless play for his sympathy. Either way, it works.
“Fine. What book do you want? Your precious Romeo and Juliet?”
She snuggles deeper into the covers, looking expectant.
“Well? Get going.” She sips her tea, eyebrows raised over the rim.
“Ugh. Fine. ‘Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?’”
“You’re skipping bits. No skipping bits.”
“No interruptions. That’s the rule of the reading aloud.”
He goes at it, and it’s a manful attempt, if a bit of a bald one. He plods through the lines, uninterested, trying to find his way through this dreary romance. But slowly, slowly, as the romance is underlaid by layers of conflict, of blood, merciless jest and the quick and steady rhymes of the youth of Verona—somehow, Adam finds his voice.
He rips through Mercutio, fencing through the dialogue, fierce and stabbing and frighteningly brave. His voice softens for Juliet—but there is a hard edge, there, a darkness as he dives into her love-song to Romeo, her promises to cut his face into the stars to make the heavens blaze. Romeo is simpering and silly but so sincere—foolish, frightened, real as a child. Looking at him, Belle sees he is playing all the parts: and he’s forgotten he’s only reading, and he will not skip a line, and he can barely look up to turn the page because he is so sunk in the story of the Veronan feud.
She falls asleep, just as Romeo departs. He doesn’t notice until Romeo has died. He drops the book and looks at her, hair spilled out on the pillow, a contented smile still on her face.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” says Adam, “but I am glad your name is Belle. It suits you.”
theme: romantic + whimsical wedding finds romantic silk batiste and lace-lined low back wedding gown by cathytelle
what. a. gown. this low-backed long-sleeved stunner features an open back, a romantic color palette, a feminine combination of fabrics including mesh, silk batiste and lace, and a super-unique design with lace layered under sheer for a textured look. and the bride’s HAIR!! swoon.
Full offense this is the worst thing I’ve ever read with my own two eyes lmfao. I didn’t sit through Michelle Phieffer’s overacting and face-licking, Halle Berry’s unfortunate go at the role with the shittiest script on the planet, and Anne Hathaway’s neutered, watered-down Catwoman impression, to miss the opportunity of getting to see Batman and Catwoman have a real, genuine onscreen romance without fifty layers of bullshit between them.
“Oh baby, here comes the sound. I took a train outta New Orleans and they shot me full of ephedrine.This is how we like to do it in the murder scene. Can we settle up the score? If you were here I’d never have a fear.
So go on live your life, but I miss you more than I did yesterday. You’re beautiful. Well I’m a total wreck and almost everyday, like the firing squad or the mess you made. Well don’t I look pretty walking down the street. In the best damn dress I own?”
You were laying on the couch in comfortable pajamas and a tank top ready to dedicate tonight to unwinding. Calum was upstairs changing into the same thing ready to take on this relaxing night with his wife by his side. Ever since you and Calum got married most of your time was spent together, which was the dream way of spending married life. As Calum came running down the stairs, you noticed that the way he looked right now was your favorite way to see him. His hair was already starting to dry from his shower into your favorite curls and he had a gray tank top over his torso and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He looked heavenly even though you two were practically dressed in the same thing. When Calum got to the room you were laying in, he plugged his phone into your living room speakers, a necessity when designing your new home. He turned on a slow song that the two of you knew all too well. When Calum reached the spot you were relaxing on he stopped right in front of you with his arm extended towards you and you knew exactly what that meant. You placed your hand in his and let him pull you up and close to his body. The closeness of your bodies and the song that Calum chose could only mean one thing, he wanted to dance. Dancing had always been you guys’ thing. Whenever one of you had a bad day or when you needed a pick me up whatever it was, it could always be solved with a dance from your husband. Something about the intimacy of sharing a dance made you two feel like you were the only people in the world even if it was just for the length of one song. You and Calum were hand in hand, your foreheads were pressed against each other and your lips were centimeters from each other. Your feet were gliding across the carpet of your living room and your eyes were lost in the deep and glowing brown of Calum’s eyes. The dancing moments never got old, even though they happened very often in the Hood household. In this moment your mind wandered to all the special dances you guys have shared, the ones that really stood out in your head.
You know, I’m always a little surprised by the amount of people romancing Dorian who are downright offended by his, “He’s not my friend” comment during the amulet quest. First of all, he’s been dragged straight into the exact situation he never wanted to be in and the Inquisitor seems intent on blithely ignoring his opinion on the matter (and has to ignore him because of game mechanics, I might add, which is why I’m glad I didn’t bring him along the first time). So, of course he’s going to be upset and perhaps not as tactful as he could be. However, I don’t read it the way so many people seem to, because he doesn’t stop there.