[ The curious one ]

Sycamore, a shape shifting panda/girl. Curious about a lot, she asks away. Though, don't be shy to ask her stuff too! Just... Don't steal her food. You've been warned. [Multiverse OC, Check the Universe page to know more!]

[haveueverlovedawoman]

Happy Mother’s Day by Rita Petita Via Flickr: These are photos of Bai Yun (soon to be 25) and Mr Wu (soon to be 4) from 2/2013. Xiao Liwu is her 6th cub to be born at the San Diego Zoo. Bai Yun has been an excellent mom from her first cub, Hua Mei to her last, Mr Wu.

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

The Summoning

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

The demoness half-wanted to scare the artist, who responded so rudely. That ought to teach him a lesson after all, but she didn’t want Syca in trouble or for her friend to be upset with her. A curse would be much more subtle, but even that might be too much. Giving up, the young woman would hold the cushion Sycamore gave her and follow the shape-shifter out.

“That was…certainly something.” The disguised girl sighed, glancing over at her friend when they were finally on the streets again. “I can always teleport us, you know. We don’t always have to do everything the ‘normal’ way.” The evening air was cooling off, and offered a much-needed breeze to the robe-clad woman. “If I must be honest, I suppose they might detest their jobs, just as many do. But some men, no matter how poor or what job, can always be happy. So I suppose it comes down to each individual.” The brunette nodded once, hugging the pillow to her chest. “If you’d like, Sycamore, I can be whatever you want me to be when you paint. I mostly only transform into someone of equal size or gender, though, but I can also alter my looks as well.” A demonstration of that would need to wait until the duo had returned to her contractee’s apartment, though.

For once, however, the demoness did not wait on a response from Syca. She hoped they were done for the day, and grasping onto the panda-girl, transported them, the dog, and their new supplies back into the main room of her flat. “I felt a bit lazy,” Evie commented, taking on her true form once again. “I didn’t wish to walk all the way back for once.” The demoness sheepishly smiled at her friend, and with a snap of the fingers lit the lights in the apartment. “Are you tired? Should we wait until tomorrow to begin?”

[thetreeofcuriosity-blog]

Surprised by the sudden light, Sycamore stepped back and tripped over, throwing cushions everywhere. Sitting up as fast as she could, she said :

“That’s so much faster than walking or taking a carriage!” She was delighted. “I am sorry, my teacher really is special…” A sigh left her lips. “ I am a bit tired but my mind won’t stop thinking about the portrait. Perhaps… We can start the base of it, meaning a couple of sketches with positions? So I can learn better the lines of your body. Oh and… Hm…. Be true to yourself. I mean, be you. The way you are the most at ease. If it is with your wings and horns, then so be it. If you prefer a more human form, it’s up to you! And tell me which position you want. Or which portrait you want me to work on first, actually.” She smiled, opening the stool to place closer to the window and started rummaging through her small bag for her tools.

“Are you hungry? I must have something somewhere if you want!” she proposed while going the opposite way to pick up her sketchbook from her studio room. For once, her stomach was pretty quiet. Her mind was too busy. Back in the main room, she lifted up some cushions, comparing the colors with her friend’s skin. Really, lavender, ivory and cloud grey were a good combination. Though teal was not bad either.

[wnq-anonymous]

If you cant be kind, be quiet.

Anonymous  (via wnq-anonymous)

[exorcist-on-paws-blog]

Reblog if I'm allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.

[justrpmemesandmusings]

Send ◕‿◕ to play with my muse’s hair

[lohrien]

Illustrations by puimun

website l dA l kickstarter

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

The Summoning

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

“If an artist does not paint from the heart and with creativity, sir, then how could one make such delightful pieces like David, portraits and statues of the gods and goddesses, and so many others? If one paints just what is before them with no emotion or creativity, art would be much less beautiful and whimsical. Art is meant to inspire and enrapture, please the senses in some cases, not deliver a constant, cold reminder of the truth of the world.” Evie was pleased how Syca agreed, and her lips curved upwards into a smile. However, hearing her friend scolded made the woman wonder if she should have kept her mouth shut instead. “Oh, Sycamore, that sounds so like you,” the demoness stated with a rather amused tone, instead heading to the window and glancing out at the small view of London, fingernail gently pressed against the glass. If it meant not angering her friend’s teacher, she’d keep quiet and instead wait on them to finish conversing. The brunette thought the teacher stubborn, and the last thing she wanted was for the man to hate her. With a hum, the disguised lady went to the stool meant for the model to sit on and took a seat, having grown tired of inspecting the man’s pieces and wishing to stay out of the way.

[thetreeofcuriosity-blog]

“What would you know of it, you ignorant girl?! The time of David was neither in London nor the same as ours. It was in his culture to paint gods! They were indecent traditions amongst them too, how could you - ” Sycamore tuned him off, not listening anymore. She knew it by heart and was really bored of it by now. Evie was on the posing area and it was the most normal position Sycamore had ever seen her. It almost was strange. She mapped the way the body folded, where was the main balance point, how the legs were delicately curving, how -

“Sycamore? Sycamore!” called her teacher loudly. She looked back to him.

“Yes, sir?” she said innocently.

“You’re not listening, as usual.” He sighed. It seemed that both of them knew the outcome of such speech. “Was there anything else you wanted?” he asked.

“No, everything is on the list. Though, may I borrow a stool and some cushions?”

He looked funny at her, but waved his hand toward what she wanted. It was his way to tell her to help herself. She smiled and picked up light colored cushions, handing a lilac one to Evie. She went behind a curtain and dragged out a stool alike the one Evie sat on.

“This will be all, thank you. If you wish, I let you see how I advance on my work.” With a sheepish look, the shape-shifter turned to her teacher one last time.

“Of course I wish to see! I may not like what you paint, but I still appreciate to see how you improve your technique! I am your teacher after all!” he answered, as if it was incredibly obvious.

She smiled and left the room, balancing cushions on top of the stool.

“We might need a carriage to go home this time… I don’t feel like walking through the city with all this.” She said once back in the street. “I hope he didn’t offend you. He is harsh in his way to talk and quite stubborn in his ideas of art but he is a great teacher. With time, we both figured out there are some subjects best left unsaid, yet we can’t help it.”

The sky was darker and a lamplighter was down the street, turning on the lamppost she had ran into earlier.

“I wonder”, she started, “If they find their work sad and boring, or if they understand that they give some light to people, like stars shine in the darkest hours of the night.” She turned to her friend, curious brown eyes locking on piercing blue ones.

[queroserpicasso]

[wordsnquotes]

When the rain falls you just let it fall and you grin like a madman and you dance with it, because if you can make yourself happy in the rain then you’re doing pretty alright in life.

David Levithan and Rachel Cohn, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist

[songesoleil]

Spirit of the Sea. Pencil and watercolour with touches of bodycolour on paper. 24.1 x 15.3 cm.

Art by Cecile Walton.(1891-1956).

[lohrien]

Illustrations by Z.Ling Shu

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

The Summoning

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

“Well, I suppose the term starving artist must not apply to your teacher.” The building was quaint, and with how many children running amok and a maid, it certainly gave the impression the man was getting by. Evie kept to herself until they reached his studio, and inside there she gave a short bow of the head to the painter to be polite, then began studying his pieces of work being organized. The pieces that caught her eye were ‘The Lovers’ and ‘The Beautiful Grisette’, with the brunette studying them closely and carefully but was cautious not to touch. “Artists, I have learned, can have gentle or quite the angry temperament. The best examples of that would be Botticelli and Michelangelo,” the demoness-in-disguise muttered to herself. The pieces were surely pretty, but they were lacking elsewhere. 

“I cannot feel the artist’s emotions when I look at these pieces. The atmosphere of each piece is nice, along with the strokes from the brushes, but I cannot feel any emotion here. Grisette, the woman in the painting; her gaze does not look like one of adoration or flirtation, but a blank, forced gaze.” The intrepid one was usually more coy, but when it came to art she expected to see the painters’ emotions and feeling for the subject or models in the art, and for each piece to come to life. Her gaze turned towards Sycamore, gentle as ever, however. “Syca, when you paint me, I want it to be from the heart. If not, I shall never be pleased with it, no matter how beautiful it shall look to the naked eye.” This was an instance where the Frye woman was as stubborn as her brother. She nodded decidely and kept browsing the pieces, leaving her friend to speak with her teacher, whom she might have offended in the process of speaking about his art. But, in her mind, every artist should be opening to listening to what others think, lest they become rutted in work that isn’t to their full potential. The large windows poured in the last bits of light for the day, casting long shadows along the walls. Her eyes scanned over the room, numerous paints and brushes along with other mediums, and a small area with a white cloth of linen hung up, likely where a model would pose for the artist.

[thetreeofcuriosity-blog]

Amidst her notes, Sycamore looked up at Evie, hearing her muttering. Apparently she was not the only one, for her teacher stared at her friend.

“An artist should paint his world, make a proper picture of his time! This is how we will transmit our time to younger generations and how they will know about us! If no one does it, how could they possibly know? This is an heirloom of what is important! Emotions are nothing but a fleeting useless thing. An artist should not put his emotions in his work.” He looked down at the shape-shifter while saying his last words and she answered him by beaming a toothy grin.

She knew his speech all too well, and knew where this would go if she spoke her thoughts, yet she couldn’t help herself.

“I believe an artist should pour its heart into the work. I believe emotions are the first things that make me draw or paint.” She turned to Evie, to let her know she understood her wish. “I believe too, that emotions are the reasons why some artist can make a better portrait than another, depending on how the artists feel about the model.”

She tried hard not to laugh. Her teacher was red, as she expected. He had shown her how to make lines and stroke by stroke how to create a city on paper, how to line the body and tame the shadows, how to stop a moment forever on a blank canva. But never could he stop her from adding details or stories to give more life to the painting. He hated how she always changed what was right in front of his eyes, no matter how many times she explained that what she saw might not be for the eyes but for the heart.

“You will never make a name for yourself if you keep working like this!” he scolded her. “People want reality, piece of their time, of the proper society, not some foolish girl painting lovers or wild animals in the sky!”

She looked down, biting her lips to keep the laughter inside and scribed in a corner of her notes about the sleeping animals she once drew. It had shocked him enough that he still remembered and mentioned it every time he lectured her.  Her teacher had taken her to a speech made by a friend of him. She had been so bored she had to draw sleeping animals or she would have fallen dead asleep herself. She gave a quick glance at her friend, still trying to hide her smile and laughter.

[onehellofaconfusionarchive]

Active roleplayer hunt!

Please reblog if you’re an active roleplayer of any sort, and welcoming to OCs!

[culturenlifestyle]

Elegant Cityscape Rings by Ola Shekhtman

Jewelry designer Ola Shekhtman (previously featured here) began her professional career as a goldsmith student in St. Petersburg, Russia. Shekhtman’s exceptional talent allows her to hand make every process in the creation of her contemporary designs. She manually melts metal and is responsible for rolling, sawing, soldering and polishing every detail by hand.

An avid traveler, the Serbian-born artist habitually relocates with her family every couple of years to a different city. Inspired by different cityscapes, sceneries and aesthetics, Shekhtman’s creations are a direct reflection of her personal life. In addition to being an expert with working with metal, she is trained in 3D modeling. Her collection of rings features major cities, including New York, Hong Kong, San Francisco, London and Amsterdam among others. You can find the entire series in her Etsy shop.

View similar posts here!

[wordsnquotes]

It doesn’t matter. I have books, newbooks, and I can bear anything as long as there are books.

Jo Walton

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

The Summoning

[iintrepidfrye-blog]

“If I desired to eat anyone, I’d have done so by now.” The young lady smiled even so, following her friend out of the shop. Shadows were cast from the early evening sun, Evie’s being a bit darker than Sycamore’s. The demoness-in-disguise watched the dog bounding along on the sidewalk happily, a small smile forming on her lips. The streets were near-barren, and of course the Assassin nodded in response to her friend’s question. Since the streets were so empty, the dark-haired one decided to speak openly now, having no fear of someone overhearing her. “As you know, I wasn’t always a demon. The changes happened around sixteen, when I properly hit puberty. I still sometimes consider myself one, even though that’s the furthest thing from the truth now. This form, the one I must be in when around humans, this is how I should really look.”

The Frye girl glanced at Sycamore, raising both brows simultaneously. She sighed when Syca collided with the lamppost, and approached her. “Goodness, you’re just like a kid.” The demoness could see a small scratch on the other’s cheek, red and like it might bleed a bit. The brunette kissed her thumb and stroked it across the injury, easily making such a small blemish vanish. “Let’s not look too disheveled for your teacher, hm?” Evie then spurred the dog on to follow her, jogging ahead just a few paces before hanging back again to listen to Sycamore speak. “Lavender? Yes, I quite like the color, and the flower. But I’m not a fan of the way it smells. Speaking of your teacher…is he a rather old-fashioned man? Shall I need to disguise myself as some gown-wearer?” The demoness nearly scoffed at such a thought, one corner of her lips tugging up into a semi-smirk. Watching her shape-shifter friend bumble around like so made the elder twin sigh, and she helped her to stand straight again before the man, or maids, if he had any, would answer.

[thetreeofcuriosity-blog]

While her brain was slow to register all that was said, Sycamore knew she heard everything her friend said. About her youth, about her being childish, about her teacher. The last part was easy to catch up with, but she would come back on other subject later. She laughed at Evie’s suggestion, shaking her head.

“My teacher is somewhat of an old fashioned man, yes. But I somehow manage to gain his respect and make him teach me. We do not always agree on our models and subjects, but we both are quite interested in the way each other bring out details.”

The door opened to the young maid who had taken over her child minding duty. The poor girl looked like she had run a marathon and wanted nothing more than ran away through the opened door.

“Good afternoon my ladies, may I know the reason of your presence here?” she asked as politely as she could. Sycamore smiled and answered “I am mister Powell Frith’s student, Sycamore Kinsley. Is he there?”.

The maid let them in the entry hall and went to the back of the house to find her master. As usual, it was noisy. Twelve children bickering, playing, arguing, and crying at the same time was sure to make lots of work and not-so-background noise for whoever was in charge of them. From fifteen to barely one year old, the children reminded the girl of a pack of puppies. They might argue amongst themselves but would turn and stand together against any threat, no matter who it came from or what it was about; eating vegetables, studying in the library or simply going to bed, all of it was somewhat of a fight. Having taken care of them a few times, she talked from experience. “Though, it made things funny!” the shape-shifter added after explaining a bit about the live in here.

The maid came back and led them to a studio away from the others and their noise. William was apparently putting in order his pieces of art, landscape on one side, portraits on the other and whatever was left somewhere around.

“My young painting miss, a pleasure to see you on this hot day. Who is you companion?” he asked, sparing only a glance at Evie.

“A friend of mine for whom I promised two portraits. Mister Powell Frith, meet Evie. Evie, my teacher, William Powell Frith.” She introduced them and smiled all the same, though she was more careful. “We came to ask you some material and I wanted your advices on mythological painting.” Seeing the surprised expression on her teacher’s face, she explained, “Both my friend and I enjoy Greek and Roman gods and my idea was to depict her as one of them, or at least, in the inspiration of them. Are there any details I should to be aware of to succeed?”

She had paper in hand, noting down his words, nodding along and gave him a list of paint and canvas size she wanted. Though she carefully kept to herself the exact measurement. It would be a surprise for Evie. Gazing around, her eyes looked for tools or decoration items she might need too. What would Evie fancy here? What could be useful?

[thetreeofcuriosity-blog]

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