Before the computing era, ILM was the master of oil matte painting, making audiences believe that some of the sets in the original Star Wars and Indiana Jones trilogy were real when they weren’t. They were the work of geniuses like Chris Evans, Michael Pangrazio, Frank Ordaz, Harrison Ellenshaw and Ralph McQuarrie ! Forever thank you, to their handmade art and the work of their colleagues, that made us dream of impossible worlds and fantastic places across Earth and the Universe.
There are more background paintings on this article, featuring comments by the masters/artists themselves !
Some of the following pieces were made by other artists 2:
I will start linking the individual paintings tomorrow so it will hopefully be hard to miss.
If you do have a request for a specific artwork that I haven’t put on there yet just let me know and I’ll get to it! For now it’s just my personal favourites :)
"I admit, after you left, I felt… inclined to hurry the process along. I do want to give you time to work within your ranks, because I trust you, and I know how capable you are. But also I—” Lexa falters again. Gives the barest shake of her head, her eyes staying glued to the hands held within her own as she visibly forces herself to speak. “Selfishly, I want this conflict finished as soon as possible.”
Clarke can't help the tremble that laces her smile because she knows. She knows. And it's nothing to lean into Lexa in the moment. To press in against the soft hollow of her cheek and dip closer to kiss the corner of Lexa's mouth. To feel Lexa turn into the touch just enough for Clarke to brush the adorable tip of her nose.
She wonders sometimes, in the quiet of such moments, if Lexa really understands exactly how precious she is. Just how beautiful and gentle, beneath the death and the loss and the weight of her blood soaked crown.
Lexa sighs into Clarke's touch, her breath a warm relief to the cold air that spurs Clarke's hands to grip tighter.
Her nose bumps against Clarke's again, seeking more, as Lexa whispers,
“Polis is lonelier without you.”
It's hard for Clarke to keep it together when yet another piece of her heart turns to shrapnel, jagged and deathly in its destruction. It makes old wounds sting like new as she adds the confession to the mountain of sins she cannot fix for them, for anyone, by sheer will alone. Because she would. So many pieces of her scream in duty-bound rebellion with how much she needs Lexa to know that she would do anything to erase the pain of her absence - to wash away the nights spent apart and spare them both.
She would, if only she could.
Clarke hugs her. There's really nothing else for it. There's nothing that feels as right in that moment more than surging closer, stretching her arms to loop around Lexa's neck and pull her in.
“I'm here now,” Clarke says, and seals her paltry offering with a kiss to the column of Lexa's throat.
She ignores her captive's flustered start at the tenderness and tucks into Lexa. Any worry for how she clings more than she means to is left for another day as her arms tighten at the burst of that familiar scent that is entirely Lexa; all forest greenery mixed with the clean scent of her sweat against skin that carries lingering notes of some floral sweetened soap.
The coil of muscle softens into a mass of Commander-shaped jelly when Lexa sags against her, knees seeming to buckle with how fiercely she folds into the hug. Her arms cinch around Clarke's waist so tightly it nearly lifts her onto the tips of her toes; hip bones pressing to hip bones, ribs crushed to ribs.
They hold each other in the creaking silence of the hut so long Clarke's feet pool in pins and pricks, offering little else more than sniffles buried into coat sleeves and armor and the syncing of juddered heartbeats. The buckles of Lexa's coat dig into Clarke's stomach and the pommel of her sword knocks rough against her hip, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when she's this close. Not when every press of Clarke's lips to Lexa's throat is mirrored against her own, tender in its supplication.
The hands that hold her feel restless against her back. Constant in their moving, gentle in their caress. They rub languid circuits from her shoulders to the tops of her hips, as though Lexa can't quite control the need to touch her as much as humanly possible, and it's only when Clarke opens her eyes just to see that face again, that she loosens her hold and slowly, so slowly, inches herself away.
Lexa doesn't let her go far. Keeps Clarke right where she wants her with a dig of fingertips against leather and spine, temple resting against temple and cheek against kohl smudged cheek, as she fills all the spaces Clarke has missed her touch. Heat traces over her skin in Lexa's shaky exhale as the snuggle-inclined warlord nuzzles closer, drifting the plumpness of her lips along Clarke's chin, across her mouth, until Clarke doesn't know where one breath ends and another begins. Eyes sparkle under the hang of lashy, hooded eyes when Lexa sways further into her.
“May I?”
The vulnerability of it stings with just how small she sounds - as though she still doubts this. As though Lexa has no idea that the memory of her mouth, and her taste, and the sweet bite of her teeth were the only things that has kept Clarke sane in her misery for all of these weeks.
Clarke's mouth tugs into a smile at the question. Even more as their lips brush when she speaks.
“Please.”
The word is barely out before Lexa is the one surging forward in a tidal wave of emotion, taking Clarke's mouth in a kiss so blisteringly gentle it makes her rock on the heels of her feet. Her lips mold to Clarke's on a sharp inhale, one that liquifies into a sigh of relief; it's the same relief that ripples through Clarke's chest like an electric bloom of confetti.
Clarke chases her mouth. Bends and reshapes herself to the mold of Lexa's body every time she dares to pull back even an inch for a gasp of air. It's too dizzying being this close to her. Reclaiming her. Letting their lips slant together in more configurations than she can keep count, each one letting Clarke relearn the taste and feel of her.
She tries and fails to let Lexa set the tempo. Entirely too enamored with reacquainting herself with how soft and luscious those lips are for it to be anything but a lost cause. How could she be expected to control it when Lexa makes this sound. This sound, so feminine and so devastatingly fucking light. Not a whimper or a moan, but something in between, and it only makes Clarke need to hear it more as she cups Lexa's cheeks, keeping her close, keeping her steady, as she changes the angle to dive back in.
The first brush of tongue makes Lexa whimper, and Clarke feels the tremble of Lexa's lips on the next breath she takes - feels the way it makes her hands turn greedy. She mumbles a curse around the lush bottom lip caught between her teeth when palms slip down, smooth over her ass and grab her. Their hips bump with restless intent and Clarke is barely able to pull her attention away from the languid sweeps of Lexa's mouth long enough to feel the nudge of a knee against hers. She stumbles just enough to let them fall open. Just enough for a muscled thigh to press in tight, answering the rocking of her hips that Clarke hadn't even noticed through the fog of Lexa's kiss.
But then the world feels empty and life loses all meaning and she's not even being dramatic because the taste of those intoxicating lips is wrenched away without warning.
I've got two and a half scenes left of Rock & Role Part Nine, and I'm REALLY trying to get it done by the weekend for you all because I look forward to getting to the end myself! Clarke and Lexa go through a lot in this next installment, and it ends with Clarke and The Grounders at a high profile party in Brooklyn faced with their kryptonite, a dancefloor on which they are encouraged (required) to put on a show of affection to music that's too fun not to enjoy for real. It’s a night full of glitter and glamor and I’ve been listening to the playlist for it over and over this week so I can see all the scenes in my head while my hands are busy and I can hopefully get every last little detail out of my brain and onto the pages.
I hope all of you have had a lovely start to your new year! Hoping to get this one out for you to enjoy real soon.
The waste of time that could be better spent actually learning.
The way she had to show up to do… absolutely nothing.
Pacing an ambling line from one end of the lecture platform to the other, her eyes swept the darkened room before checking her watch again.
“You have thirty seconds left to finish your thoughts for this piece, and then we're moving on to the final slide,” Lexa called out, remembering to soften her tone so as to not make the more consumed writers of the class jump nearly a foot out of their desks.
Again.
The screen overhead flipped from ‘ The Column of Trajan’ to ‘ The Arch of Constantine’, and the clock on the wall ticked on.
A few more minutes passed in relatively dull silence as Lexa mentally flowed through the lesson plans she had presented thus far, combing the downturned sea of faces and mentally shouting what she hoped the students had taken from them.
Because she wanted them to do well.
Because she measured her own success as an educator by her student's every success.
Because if she had to read one more essay this semester that contained the words “lit” or “potato quality” in reference to ancient carvings, she just might tear her own hair out.
She really hated test days.
Mind buzzing with thoughts of stylistic contrasts between High Empire versus Late, and wondering who among her pupils would draw the correct conclusions for why each piece represented on the test was chosen, Lexa felt her pocket vibrate as she settled down on the edge of the table at the head of the room.
Fishing her phone out, she glanced down and froze at the preview that flashed bright across the screen.
“That is a very tight vest you have on Professor”
Schooling her face despite the heat that bloomed bright hot in her cheeks, Lexa checked the timer she had set and barely hesitated before opening the message.
“Shouldn't you be focusing on your test?”
“Just finished a minute ago. Now I'm wasting time until class is over.”
“Shouldn't you want to leave then?” she thumbed out. As if on cue, she pressed her phone to her chest and nodded as a student traipsed up to the front and deposited their test booklet on the table before slipping out of the lecture hall without a sound. “It's a beautiful day. Go enjoy it instead of pretending to look busy.”
“But the view's so good right here…”
Straightening up from her slouched position, it felt like a herculean task to keep her eyes from beelining to the front row and exactly two seats to the left.
Instead she made another lazy loop around the dais, scanning the crowd for moving pencils (and any obvious signs of someone having fallen asleep.)
The dull squeak of graphite on paper had her winding back around to stand behind the safety of her podium.
“That's highly inappropriate. Remind me why I let you sit in the front row?” she typed back the second her hands were out of sight.
She snuck another glance out into the dimmed lecture hall and waited.
“Because I'm your very favoritest student Professor Woods,” she read when another message popped up right below it. “And because when I wear this outfit you can almost see up my dress.”
People say "You have to draw the line somewhere, and Biden has crossed it-" and my response is "Trump has crossed way more lines than Biden".
These categories are based off of actual policy enacted by both of these men while they were in office.
If the ONLY LINE YOU CARE ABOUT is line 12, you have an incredible amount of privilege, AND YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT PALESTINIANS. You obviously have nothing to fear from a Trump presidency, and you do not give a fuck if a ceasefire actually occurs. You are obviously fine if your queer, disabled, and marginalized loved ones are hurt. You clearly don't care about the status of American democracy, which Trump has openly stated he plans to destroy on day 1 he is in office.
if you want to vote for a third party, what you are going to do is vote for biden in november 2024 and then as soon as that’s done, start trying to get ranked choice voting in your state
we will ALWAYS be a two party system until voting reform happens, and voting reform won’t happen if project 2025 happens.
suck it up and vote biden, then put the next four years to good use
