I Am In Love With This. - Blog Posts
geto’s lookbook
(the original ribcage/saturn devouring his son dress is by officialhambly, check out the making of here)
"We're trapped ! We are trapped, in the subway under metro tower, the tank is running on emergency power and is covered in some kind of krang bio growth. I repeat-"
"APRIL ! COME QUICK, WE'RE GETTING SQUISHED !"
Random Turtle Thoughts of Whimsy...
He hears your voice. Softly singing along with the song, it's volume and melody low compared to the music he's used to hearing his brothers crank. And it calls him. Beckoning him to you like a moth to flame.
He finds you in their common room. Barefoot, wooden bo staff in hand, moving through a series of stances. Entirely lost to the music. Completely unaware of his presence.
He watches intently. You're not finishing each stance with decisive sharpness. Nor is your form controlled the way it should as you transition into the next. Then you raise up on your tiptoes, with the staff stretched across the back of your shoulders. You spin, dipping your head low and raising one leg high as you rotate in a smooth, practiced motion.
Now that's not right, he thinks.
He knows the training is still pretty new to you. It's not that new though. He's shown you proper technique. There's no reason for you not to have it now.
But just as he's about to take a step forward to correct your form, the music suddenly seems louder, and a thought occurs to him. Freezing him in place.
You're dancing.
You're dancing through the stances he's taught you.
You're in control. You know what your body is doing. You know exactly each step you intend to take.
And it takes his breath away.
The fluidity of your limbs. The strength of your form. Your own unique power and control shining through. The beauty you convey.
No, there is no sharp, snappy jerks as you shift. There are no short huffs of air forced from your lungs. Not an ounce of tightness to your delicate features. There's no force or fury being channeled through. Not like when he trained.
You're enjoying this. So effortless are your actions, as the music floods your mind and sweeps you off into a world all your own, he wonders if he is really the teacher. And you really the student.
Were you showing him the grace and beauty of his own art? Letting him truly see his own craft for the first time? Or was it --- was he truly seeing you for the first time?
It felt like watching you move in slow motion to him. The music deafening everything else but your voice to his ears. Your voice making his eyes blind to everything except you.
Smooth. Soft. Fluid and steady. Circular motions without points like those of his own angular ones.
Funny, how this moment mirrored the differences between you two. And yet, somehow making clear how much sense it made for those differences to bring you together.
Just as the last notes of the song fade away, your hair falling from free from momentum to drape over your shoulders, bo staff resting across your thighs as you drop into a bow, it hits him hard in the chest. Audibly knocking a shaky breath free.
Fuck, he thinks, as your eyes finally raise to his. Fuck, you're the one.
@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @morenovix218 @writinandcrying @donniesgirlie
Fig and the Cig Figs sophomore concept album
Blame it on the Time Quangle
1. Homemade Forever (crystal phone recording, no polish)
2. Your Car Isn't Half the Boat My Van Is (My Van is a Boat reprise)
3. Missing the Shrimp Jump (Beats Blowing Off a Goddess)
4. Fossils (or Sacred Order of Knights)
5. Brand New Face (Wanda Childa's version)
6. Mysterious Strudel Fracture
7. Yathmag Mount Go!
8. Nightmares (Summer Remix)
9. Chronomour (Ayda's Song)
10. I'm Cloaca (I SUCK!)
11. (hidden track) CRASH!!!!!!!!! (ft. The Ball)