work in progress.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
i don't do bad sauce passes

JBB: An Artblog!
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Game of Thrones Daily
styofa doing anything

No title available
$LAYYYTER

★

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
noise dept.
almost home
Three Goblin Art
trying on a metaphor
todays bird
dirt enthusiast
🪼
cherry valley forever
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@camelcts
work in progress.
ext, early evening. outside the plaza hotel at a civic planning fundraiser. status. closed starter for anastasia stratton @camelcts
THE INTERSECTION between his family's affairs and politics was not rare. in fact, more often than not was it a discreet sort of dependence, like a remora suctioned onto a shark's belly. the remora does not fear their teeth and the sharks know to leave well enough alone. so when julian saw baby shark exit the lobby, he gave a thoughtful dip of his head in greeting, like he understood why she, too, needed to step outside. cigarette already in hand, he offered the pack of lights towards her should she want one. "they started talkin' numbers. i had to dip."
“ i respect that. ” ocean hues narrow, inner mind turning to put a name to face before dropping from rugged features to offered cigarettes instead, two manicured digits reaching out in acceptance. “ they're boring. ” words muffled around stick as it's placed between glossed brims, frame leaning forward expectantly for other to light. “ it's always the same conversations with the same men and their same inflated egos. ” optics snap to homme, trailing up and down twice. “ no offense. ”
if the floor would swallow him whole like the quicksand in a legend of zelda dungeon then he would be in its debt. words surrounded him, current context making them sound foreign despite definitions known; only a matter of time before monologue, broken slightly as others chimed in their opinion, ended in a question and predator eyes would lock onto deer. gaze darted around. a second after finding the hues that mirrored his own, he knew she'd heard him. a blink and she was there. ❝ oh, right . . . the initiative. yes, we shouldn't delay on that. my apologies, gentlemen. ❞ arthur knew he should promise a return, but he silently gravitated into sister's shadow. in childhood, he would've clung to her arm; hands merely clasped together. it didn't stop camelot's future from moving in sync. ❝ thank you, ❞ muttered under his breath. air able to enter his lungs with ease once more. ❝ think we can also flag down someone serving the hors d'oeuvres ? i don't think i've eaten since we've arrived. ❞ stomach in knots and body pulled in every direction.
skull nods in agreeance, an ' mhm ' sound spilling from glossed petals, further selling golden sibling's performance of a faux initiative. with proper distance growing between pair and trio of sharp teeth now, sister leans into brother then, assurance matching his uttered tone, “ please, don't thank me. i'd do anything for you, art. you know this. ” and truly meant it, shared blood being of utmost importance to blonde. “ oh but of course, we have to find the guy with mini quiches, they're to die for ⎯⎯ hm, actually, i'll do you one better .. c'mon. ” no further explanation offered, lithe frame diverting abruptly, guiding away from center of gala and towards more isolated corridors. heels of vintage red - bottoms sound against marble floor, conviction of someone entirely accustomed to walking wherever self pleases. destination is reached at last, palm dropping from brother's limb to swing open one of the double doors to kitchen space. abandons mirroring blond at entry in favor of stealthiness, optics finding an unattended silver platter lined with requested hors d'oeuvres and before anyone can object, feather light hands lift it into own grasp, already turning back toward exit as if this were unquestionably permitted. a ' hey ! what are you doing ? ' is heard behind as she reappears in front of brother, laughter bubbling as she shoves platter towards him and ushers him in the opposite direction, “ okay, walk. don't look back. ”
#𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡, scene change
hands come to rest, briefly, on her shoulders in his approach, senator leaning to press a fond kiss upon her cheek in a display of fatherly good will. approval points had been noted when he'd had the dinner scheduled, somewhere quiet but not private ⸺ enough to be seen but not heard. still, he does enjoy her presence. ❝ i hope i didn't keep you waiting long, sweetheart. ❞ he offers as he draws away to find his seat across from her, offering brief thanks to the host before dismissing him. ❝ i haven't been here in quite some time. your mother doesn't like it much, but i've always enjoyed their rib eye . ❞
early evening, polo bar, 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺
straw hued liquid burns esophagus as father's palms settle briefly upon delicate shoulders, daughter stilling beneath weight, caught wine - handed, mid swallow. digits push stem of crystal glass to edge of table like it had never been touched as he is preoccupied with fatherly display of affections and finding own seat. is younger again, recalibrating self around patriarch's attention — learning exact angles of closeness that may earn warmth. “ not long, ” painted brims pull taut as answer comes assuredly, “ tomorrow's briefing notes needed another review anyways. ” a pause as phone is then placed face down in favor of menu, “ i can see why you like it here. and why mother doesn't. it's understated. ” blues glance over offered selections before cutting to father's opposite, “ i think i'll take your word on the ribeye, though, maybe your taste is better than she gives you credit for. ”
“ you have some semblance of a brain, is why, i'd assume. ” barely looks up from assortment of canapés and fruit upon their plate, considering strawberries to offer more interesting conversation than the stratton before her. done multiple rounds about the room already, pausing for pictures and pleasantries that amounted to nothing but a good look to be present with family in places like these — though maika wanted nothing more to be watching netflix nestled in bed. chocolate hues rose briefly to rest on anastasia, manicured brow raised in anticipation. “ hummus ? or are you too good for that, now ? ”
“ and yet, here i am, wasting it in this corner talking to you. ” rolls stem of champagne flute between digits, look of seasoned disinterest as gaze focuses on bubbles climbing towards surface before snapping to meet other's, “ hummus .. you're hiding with hummus ? that's a little .. hmm, tame for you, no ? wait, mai, have you finally grown up ? ” syllables fall from glossed brims, mockery concealed by honeyed tongue, glacier hues then traveling to plate briefly and back to chocolate ones of once friend, frost finding home back on porcelain features. “ i'd rather starve, actually. ” venom spat plainly, allotting no time for famed disillusion of sweetness at heart to skillfully weave through words. “ you know, i suppose this is an improvement for you. i'm sure mayor mann will sleep much better now. i mean, it's got to be exhausting pulling so many strings, right ? ”
closed starter featuring aurelia moreno. location: the met gala afterparty featuring: @camelcts ( anastasia stratton )
the fact that aurelia was invited to the met gala or the after party was a mystery to everyone, including herself. it wasn't like she was a nobody but she also didn't quite fit the mold of being a well behaved celebrity. there was a reason they weren't inviting certain reality tv show stars because they were promoting the arts, not some beef filled spectacle. aurelia liked seeing everyone's outfits and she would never admit this to anyone, but she loved that she was supporting the arts. most people thought she was doing it for the clout and status, and maybe that was partly true, but she was really an admirer in secret. realizing her cocktail was now sadly empty, she went to the bar, putting her glass down. " should i get the same drink or switch it up ? " she asked to the other woman at the bar. " this one is good but a little too sweet. maybe i need something stronger. "
royalty adjacent's declining of coveted gala invitation was courteous, worded response that appeared as mere scheduling conflict than disdain. to her, attending would imply eagerness and that alone made the invitation intolerable. would rather carve wanting out of self, than allow world catch her reaching for anything at all. still, hefty donation in family's honorable name would arrive to board and later, blonde would find self occupying seat in lavish space, after party synonymous to perfect place to network, to sink manicured claws into new constituents. soon, unfamiliar voice piques interest and torso twists towards source. “ get something stronger. if your drink tastes mostly like sugar, you're doing it wrong. actually, ” index beckons bartender then, “ hi, two revolvers. ” then upon swift return, two glasses containing dark liquid and garnished with flamed orange peel before pair. “ try it and give me your most honest take. ”
#𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗧, valentina montero
❝ i prefer the lilac to the peach. ❞ rouge tinted lips purse as she considers the options, molten hues wandering companion's frame and every detail of the gown. ❝ but it's not awful, if you like it more. just please, promise me not the canary. i've never liked blondes in yellow - you're not daffodils. ❞
mid afternoon, dress shopping, 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺
“ my mother would agree with you, she's always said yellow in fabric is vulgar. ” skull tilts deep in thought, lissome figure standing before peer and mirror, palm displeasedly soothing surface of peach hued fabric adorning her. “ which is unfortunate because i rather like it. the lilac is too soft and the peach is definitely washing me out. it's a donor dinner, not another garden party, v. canary isn't subtle and that's what i need, that's the point. ”
𖥻 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲. 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗇, 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗋𝗄.
pains him to not be near her anymore but he respects her wishes — smiles through the torture as younger sister asks questions nick tries to run away from with delicate spun half - truths, it works with physical distance between them. fingers tighten around iced latte as leaves the small locally owned café near the court, mind still reeling from mother's word during lunch date ⸻ how quickly work matters spun into his personal relations. attorney would die for anastasia in secret, carries his misery in silence with canines on sharp tongue, desperate wishes of a coward for it to be enough. devotion only goes so far, van rensselaer can cling to the what ifs, maybes and one days but reinventing himself does not work when golden hair and ocean eyes holds the mirror ⸺ can't run, can't hide. " hi stas, " polite reaction when he nearly walks into her but otherworldly, drowning in an ocean of regrets - death by suffocation in exchange for the taste of her lips.
skull bowed, attention buried between pages of book in hand, steps routine enough to carry through streets sans thought, it's her world and longtime family aide trails not too far behind. turns a page then, thumb soothing corner, darkened vintage lenses conceal absorbing optics, until a body steps in and out of path. had been quite simple to disallow consumption of self by thoughts of him, must keep mind occupied, middle stratton skilled in the art. that was, until met by chocolate hues and familiar sentiments of longing hits like a tidal wave ⎯⎯ misses him greatly, other half of something neither have the language to explain and already too late to undo. twin flame, soul tether, whatever name makes it easier to survive. “ hey nicky, ” chosen moniker of endearment rolls off tongue as it has many times before. knows attorney by heart, learned language beneath surface of him so query comes as little surprise: “ how're you ? ” american princess and golden boy cut from the same cloth, for if she is aware of own ache because of their distance, mirror must feel it too.
a princess by status and newest casting if not by name, deserves only the finest things — yet finds beauty in these, even the simplest pressed flowers and jewels. ❝ i could. ❞ agrees as doe eyes admire her reflection, pink and yellow with the violet hues presenting the most delicate contrast. ❝ i'm sure disney would even approve of me posting in a purple crown, at the very least. but i was thinking something a little softer. ❞
location change, 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺'𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾. 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 + 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝗂.
“ so there's macaroons — from paris, of course .. cucumber sandwiches, lemon tarts, scones .. hmm, oh and toast points with caviar, how could i forget the caviar ? ” gestures to spread flawlessly arranged before pair, manicured fingertips smoothing over delicate lace that drapes table, “ what do you think ? granted, i did have some help. irene set the table and grady plated it all but i was the visionary. ”
location, 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝖺𝗅𝖺, 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 + 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇, @theydivine
cornered by trio of suits other half of america's golden heirs is as cerulean meets cerulean, femme's proficiency to read blood superior to anyone, prompting lissome frame to move with aim, times entrance into circle to breath between inquiries, feather light upper limb slipping into brother's. “ gentlemen, i'm afraid i have to steal my brother. i know, i know, i'm sure he would've provided some excellent insight into whatever fascinating discussion you've all cornered him with but i actually need his brains for something else. ” pauses long enough for skull to nod partingly, “ a very important joint public initiative project awaits us .. i'm sure you all will hear about it in the press soon enough. ” moving once again, him in tow now, conjoined pair soon out of their orbit, “ the only project i'm interested in right now is finding more champagne. very time sensitive, possibly life saving. ”
location, 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 + 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗄𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇, @hteds
receiving line of donors before her, senator's daughter moves through like she had been built for such geometry of people: shake, pressure, release. again and again until blonde is able to step away, at long last. swiftly plucks champagne flute from passing tray without slowing and then moves along the edge of gallery, somewhere behind her name was said, once, twice — politely ignored both times. soon finds refuge in corridor, where ocean hues also find them, recognition blooming and curdling in same instant as corners of mouth tilt, tension gathering at the bridge of nose, disdain made delicate but tuh sound spills before words, “ maika mann, why am i not surprised ? ”
location, 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗈, 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 + 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗈𝗑, @chcrryw1ne
groan escapes as blonde drops out of last stretch, allowing slender frame to fall back onto elbows. “ okay, seriously, i think you have it out for me, mi. ” no true accusation, jest evident in tone as she finally tugs hair tie loose, tresses that had not already fallen out now spilling over delicate shoulders. “ because that was brutal .. but i definitely needed it so thank you. ”
location, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖽, 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄, 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 + 𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗅𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗀 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖺, @lovedsme
faded yankees cap sits atop crown of trademark, privately formulated blonde locks as femme crouches by water's edge with goddaughter perched against vintage levi's on knee, taking tiny hand in her own, guiding fingers to grasp grain and send it into water, bringing about a frenzy of splashing mallards. icy blues scan perimeter of the pond soon after and own laughter dissipates at the sight of man leant against a lamppost near the bridge, adjusting camera body beneath his arm. angles torso in attempts to shield babe, chin tilting upwards so narrowed gaze can meet best friend's. “ god, they get more insufferable by the day. ”
Sarah Pidgeon as Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy LOVE STORY Season 1, Episode 4 — I Love You
a habit once formed is unlikely to be forgotten, and any interest in cake is surrendered to the desire to indulge her request. he rises from his seat, mouth tilting upward into a faint grin as hand is extended to companion, courtesy as ingrained in him as memories of moments like this. he waits, expectant, for delicate fingers to slip into gloved hand. “ a small price to pay. ” golden-hued gemstone catches the light as hand settles into his, inspiring a quiet huff of amusement. a talent for predicting winners, and the title bestowed upon him by femme feels all the more tangible for it. champagne-tinted tresses gleam beneath the gentle glow of chandeliers that line the marble hall, their light casting a soft haze over the assembled guests. the pair join those awaiting the next dance, and azure gaze remains fixed upon dance partner, encased in a gown that is more siren’s call than mere fabric and stitch. beauty made all the more compelling by pearls and crystal-woven cloth. the space between them narrows as hand finds the small of her back, the other lifting hers into place. familiar. “ just like riding a bike. ”
glide of lithe digits against glove is instinctive, muscle memory as palm settles into his, pale blues wandering to the other elite drifting past in a glittery procession but awareness of him lingers. eyes against her feel warm, familiar, chin tilts then so own focus can meet his, “ it's my dress, isn't it ? ” voice lilts, though truth nestles beneath the veneer, “ it is a bit much .. i feel like i'm suffocating. ” would much rather prefer silk duchess satin to scales but ever willing to put on for show, royalty adjacent well trained in the art of a spectacle. his hand steady at her back now and hers rests against plane of shoulder as other two join in symmetry, rhythm settling between pair. “ hmm, you say that but if my memory serves me correct .. haven't you stepped on my feet a time or two before ? ” wistful in tone yet unable to stifle airy laughter, could very well be a false recollection, recalls most but heavens know what's taken root in grey matter since. soon line of his shoulder blade isn't enough and hand gradually slides to curve where it meets base of neck, unfair it is, how naturally she still fits into the space once shaped for her all those years ago. connected digits curl into his, tethering self to him, to younger self who moves with him now.
his hold on the metal helmet slackened upon sight of an eerie spectre meters before them. “ darling, i hate to be the bearer of terrible news but i have a strong suspicion we’re already in hell. ” he tipped his head and encouraged her to turn around and take a look. “ that or the senator has deigned to grace us with his presence here up on earth, where us mere mortals walk. ” if she was arthur, he would have offered to let her hide her face with the helmet now miraculously sprung open. “ what have you three cerberus heads done to summon the senator here ? ”
own grip drops from metal, spine twisting so she can meet aforementioned figure, cerulean optics narrowing, alcohol dulling usual sharpness but not enough to blur recognition. brother is at the forefront of thought, how presence will affect the fragile architecture of his happiness and second is of self, intoxication that wrapped senses and fear of patriarchal gaze finding her this way. “ shut up. ” to accompany words, palm swiftly hits metal breastplate of cousin's armor, not registering solidness of surface until ache reaches cortex, a delayed 'ow' falling from brims as she cradles hand to chest, a blip before mask is donned. “ just smile and wave. actually — ” hand reaches to knock a now opened visor back down, “ leave that to me. you just walk. ”
❝ okay, okay, ❞ he chuckled, holding up his hands, capitulating second nature — forever the easier path in the environment they were raised in. god knew how he'd tried molding himself to fit the place carved out for him on family mantle and how his failure stung like an unhealed wound, heart muscle tearing whenever disappointment filled parents' voices or sister was left alone in the political lions' den. believed all parties wished for a proper stratton at times rather than one most content in a lab or here playing pretend. ❝ they're probably well trained . . . right ? ❞ corner of his smile momentarily wavered, but steps didn't falter ❝ i might faint from shock if mother abandons a decades long tradition for a photo of us dressed up like game of thrones characters. but maybe it'll be worthy of a place on the mantle. ❞
“ i'm sure they are but i mean, even the most well trained things can go rogue. ” doesn't speak it but glance indicts that it could also be said for the two of them: him, veering off predestined path and her, being sent off to programs and specialists to correct behavior that didn't align with upbringing. america's brother and sister rogue in their own ways. arrival to falconry perch and handler in sight prompts a nudging of shared blood with foot, hitting calf pertly as she reaches to retrieve phone from designer handbag. “ you're probably right, she'd much rather us cosplay as the sopranos .. but go on then. we're vying for that spot on the mantle now so smile big. ”