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@tailof-lightning
African-American Princess Series 👑 Part 1 (Part 2)
Redefining and reimagining the traditional princess with our own dash of style, culture, and swag
Creative Director | LaChanda Gatson Photography | Regis & Kahran Bethencourt of CreativeSoul Photography
African-American Princess Series 👑 Part 2 (Part 1)
Redefining and reimagining the traditional princess with our own dash of style, culture, and swag
Creative Director | LaChanda Gatson Photography | Regis & Kahran Bethencourt of CreativeSoul Photography
a memory, with @merosmillionmains Ken Cast in shadow by the dense canopy of leaves above him, a tall red-haired Midlander man bends at the knees with the heels of his boots up to the ankles in the shallows of a pond. His fingers are knit together, hands clasped in front of his chest, long red nails lightly drumming on his knuckles as he considers the pale body of a rugged Highlander man, face set in a mask of peaceful repose that stands stark against his body, cut open and spread apart from chin to hipbones. He floats on his back and drifts slowly to the center of the pond, his body formed into a macabre boat for an arrangement of water lillies and river plants, as well as some reeds fashioned into a ready-made arrangement ideal for a creature to nest within.
Mero She wasn’t sure what called her forward. It could have been the smell of fresh kill that tickled her nose, no, it was not her kill and therefore not her business to tend. So, it was the spiders, the silly little thing that watched her with an intelligent eye, of course she was to follow it, only good things could come from such a peaceful being. The smell of fresh meat grew stronger but she did not hunger, the spider made it very clear that now was not the time to eat. She drifted through the forest with ease, they did not travel far but she did. The forest always meant for her to get lost so she made each step fall with purpose, feeling the sharp twigs and soft loam under her toes. Then the spider was gone but she was still not lost. There was a Midlander standing tall, like a wild orchid, in the pond. This was not the place for orchids to grow but it looked very comfortable. Crish was confused. The kill that floated further down carried many small, happy, friends. The spider with one eye, the wingless hummingbird, and the ever gentle crows that feasted with glee. Like a breeze, gentle and warm, Crish found herself to the side of the wild orchid. “Did you make this, Otherrr?” She had no reason to fear him really, even as she got closer she could smell the outside on him. A wild bloom, what a curious thing.
Ken The sound of a voice seems to surprise the man, and as he turns to regard the newly-arrived guest he seems to startle himself further, the act of being startled in and of itself startling. “Ah,” he says, rubbing his hands together with a bashful grin. “I didn’t hear you. I was not told of you. Are you a surprise?” He brushes his hands on the tartan cloak around his waist and then holds them before his eyes, his gaze flicking between the two of them as though he can’t quite decide if he should offer a handshake. “Oh, but–your question–I did! Do you like it?”
Mero What a good bloom! Crish giggled and smiled for him, her fangs an ever present threat but not for him to worry about now. “I am a surprrrise! A good spurrrise!!” She was absolutely delighted by the question. “Otherrr is making many firriends, good for him.” She patted his arm, his shoulder being out of easy reach. She looked back to the offering as it settled in the pond, more had come, he was well liked. Not more than her, but well enough. She was no longer smiling but watched him with curious golden eyes. “It is prrretty and it smells nice.” She noted much like an appraiser would rate a piece of art. “Where is Otherr from?” She knew the answer to this of course, the smell stuck to his skin.
Ken “Thank you,” he says, beaming at his new-found friend. “I’m from Gridania, but I’m often outside of it like I am today, here, in the Shroud.” He takes a deep breath, looking up and around him at the fallen logs, the still pond, the trees, their canopies, and up past them to what little of the sky shows from between their leaves. “I love the Shroud,” he says. “Don’t you?”
Mero She yawned, not out of boredom, just a yawn full of teeth. Thea a nod with grins, “Otherr is silly and in a place he does not belong. He is also verrry happy to be in this place and trreats it well.” She pointed to the place the spirits lingered, body gone having found rest at the bottom of the pond. “Can Otherr make more prretty things? This one would like to see them.” There was a twinkle in her eyes and she sounded much like a child in the midst of discovery. She wouldn’t beg him, she shouldn’t have to, but Crish did consider a ‘please’.
Ken “Am I silly?” he takes a step back, as though he had never quite considered this, nor been put on the spot to explain himself thus. “I suppose I am,” he says, tapping his lip with a long red nail. “I do enjoy making such pretty things–and I am so glad you think them so, by the way, you have a wonderful eye–but, alas, no. This is my one and only for the time being. This man had offended the Shroud, and I put him to balance. As much as I love my art, I would not see the Shroud harmed again for me to have another canvas, and I am content to wait. Although,” he says, his mouth set into a frown, though his eyes are obscure behind his round red shades, “The man who hired him runs free, though he is outside of my purview, to my dismay.”
Mero “Ooooh.” She eyed his claws. In truth he spoke too much for her attention span, her eyes were quite pretty but that was besides the point. Compliments from Others meant nothing. “Otherrrr is a Hunter. A good hunterrr!”, Crish purred and her tail danced behind her. It only then occurred to her that he said no. For good reason too, she couldn’t argue. “Then how will this one see morre of Other’s arrrts?” He was good to be around, a blessed child, like her. She clapped her hands together sharply, her own claws covered in gold paint like little knives. “Wherrre does Otherrr camp?”
Ken “I have a home, in the Lavender Beds, by the shore of Lake Amethyst,” he says. “I suppose I’ll be returning there, tonight. Camp–if I must camp, I don’t know. I find a nice, old tree. Hollow inside, big enough to sleep in. That works well, I find.” He tilts his head as he regards her, his earrings catching the light in a way that seems practiced and deliberate. “I suppose if you would like to see more of my arts, then we must wait for an act of violence to be committed against the Shroud. If you see anyone do to her any offense, then inform me, I will come, and I will set it right again.”
Mero She pointed up, “Otherr must not leave yet!” They had only met, she would have to show him a safe place. It was not often that Good Others arrived in the forest, and even rarer for her to meet them before they were devourerd. “The Forrrest does not wish to eat you so you must stay. Of course, it is right.” She was tugging on his shirt. “This one knows a good trrree for the other to rrrest.” Crish stopped suddenly. The spider reappeared. Her hands moved to her knees and the storm colored cloud tucked to the ground, eyes on a patch of dirt. “Oh.” She looked back to him, “No, you will be well. We will meet again verrry soon.”
Ken Clerebold tilts his head and clasps his hands together, lightly cracking his knuckles as he considers this. With a small, bemused smile, he finally moves to speak. “So…am I to be shown to the tree, or aren’t I? Am I being invited to stay, or dismissed to return home?”
Mero She stood on her toes now to gently pat the top of his head, or the side if he did. “You have done a good job.” Encouragement like one might give a child. “Go home.” Her heels met the ground again and Crish crossed her arms. Her eyes fell on the pond once more then back to the Wild Blooming Other. Out of all the ones she’s met he was the least troublesome. Which made leaving him alone all the more difficult. “Be blessed Tall Orrrchid Other, you are a child of Forrrest.” With a bow of her head the Miqo'te crossed to the other side of the river. Though she felt no further from his side, they were certainly acquaintances. At the very least.
Ken “Oh…alright, then.” He turns to leave, as obedient as a child ushered out of the house by an insistent aunt. He seems rather dazed and confused. He turns back, a moment later, to cup his hand to his mouth and slightly raise his voice as he calls out across the water, “Are you sure you don’t want tea…?”
Mero Her ears visibly perked. A gold claw pressed to her cheek as she considered how much trouble she would get into for leaving the forest. Then realizing she didn’t truly care, she was not told that she couldn’t leave. Only that he was not meant to stay. She hopped back over, as if distance meant nothing to her and made way to his side. “Tea, yes.”
Artwork by American Illustrator Daniel Danger (@tinymediaempire)
Art by Boris Groh
Artist: @t.scott____
Lisa Farrall hairstyling (British Hair Awards 2016, Afro Finalists Collection)
@merosmillionmains
🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
B E L E A L U A ; ghanaian tree goddess.
Abandoned Chateau
i really wanna design a tarot deck one day lol
QUELL!
Orunmila, Tili, Sere and Aare, all below the age of ten, are running across the street.
Tili, Sere and Aare are taking cover. They’re about to play hide and seek.
Orunmila is out in the open - he is the seeker.
In their various hiding places, each kid uses his powers to hide himself more:
Sere turns invisible;
Tili creates an image of cart upon himself;
Aare penetrates into a wall.
Orunmila’s eyes turns glowing yellow. He begins seeking.
He sees through time, back in time.
He finds Sere.
She joins him in his quest.
Seventy metres ahead, a Time Portal appears.
Three figures come tumbling out of it.
One of them is of towering heights - Iji, the most notorious Time pirate of all time. The other two, his minions.
The Kids are all together now.
Iji and his minions run towards the kids … the kids bolt.
Orunmila stops. Eyes glowing yellow, he thrusts his fists forward.
Time freezes.
Every living creature within sight is has turn into a statue except Iji who seems to be moving as though kind of restrained.
Iji roars. And time unfreezes.
The kid panics, attempt to run but falls.
Iji: Impressive …
A large Time portal bursts into view. It looks like a big golden door. From it emerge a trio led by a lady. They are the Veterans Of Time. The lady is Veteran Tanwa.
Iji grabs Orunmila. He is going to snap is neck.
Veteran Tanwa: It will be wise of you to surrender.
Orunmila's eyes glows again.
He, Iji and his minions turn into a blurry figures - the kid’s unable to use his powers.
Iji manages to snap his neck.
Rhythmically, the Veterans wave their hands in air.
And …
Orunmila and Sere watches as a Time Portal appears metres from them and Iji and minions tumble out of it.
Tili and Aare are now with their buddies. They are getting ready to bolt.
The Time Pirates charge at them.
Three Time Portal appears surrounding the Pirates.
The Veterans deal the Pirates rapid heavy blows with the aid of minor time jumps.
They restrain them, finally.
Veteran Tanwa approaches the kids.
They are staring in awe.
She waves at them collectively. Then her eyes rests on Orunmila, the latter who instinctively moves a step forward from his peers.
Veteran Tanwa: What is your name, dear boy?
Orunmila: Orunmila.
She smiles approvingly.
Zareena | Spring/Summer 2018
Shaun Tan
‘Never leave a red sock on the clothesline’ 2012, oil on canvas, 84 x 73 cm (34” x 30”)
The horror art of Boris Grogh.
That sylph daily where you have to throw bombs on disguised sylphs, and one of them is disguised as a giant roast bird and basically says, “you’re no fun! die!” after you reveal them - yeah, I agree, if you’re a sylph and you want to hang out in the forest pretending to be a giant roast chicken, why the hell not?
