#Times of the Day

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

... times of the day ...

Mucha’s 'Times of the Day' series is ‘Nights Rest’ (1899)

The night is symbolised as winter in the foliage and natural background in Mucha’s ‘Nights Rest’ (1899) - plants and animals go to ground at the end of the year’s cycle, mirroring the preparation for a new day that nighttime offers us. In the night sky behind the female figure sleeping deeply, we can see a full, bright moon hanging heavy and low.

[landschaftsmalerei]

Die Tageszeiten: Der Abend, 1821-1822 von Caspar David Friedrich

[pontedeiconzafelzi]

The mi team as times of the day

LUTHER

Luther reminds me of midnight. Or perhaps twilight, when the lampposts are silently glaring away in the blinding darkness for no one, except maybe a few stray sheep now and then. The stars are just slightly visible in the kaleidoscope of sky above, shifting in and out of view erratically like playful children playing hide and seek. He's wise and daring, strong and gentle at the same time. Like midnight, as it grows deeper, he seems to stay even more stoic, more quiet still. But sit down and listen; wait for a cricket or two. You'll hear him speak words as soothing as wind, freshening you up and pushing you on just when you need it oh so desperately. And when you don't, his voice is there all the same, smoothening out the tangles in your hair and making sure you don't break a sweat. Still it stays silent, lovingly so, bringing you peace and a little variation of everything as long as you look for it.

BENJI

Benji is the sun. He's so warm and bright and sometimes so dearingly dorky, shifting in and out of what-ifs and yet managing to maintain that perfect level of cool-- as cool as one can be when his teammate is scaling the burj khalifa, anyway. And that's why he's mid-afternoon. His spirit dances so freely, unshackled, bouncing here and there and expressing whatever he likes. And who's to complain when sun rays intrude, crawl sweetly into the crevices of your room, your mind, your smile? Exactly. He brings a sort of hazy comfort to people, and they're not exactly sure why, but they're basking in its warmth all the same. It's the sort of comfort you feel when you visit your favourite spots, remembering how you'd once fallen down there or perhaps laughed till tears lined your eyes. You have no idea till today why it's your favourite spot, but you close your eyes anyway and know, oh so inexplicably, that you're safe. Anyhow, the thing about mid afternoon is that it teeters freely into evening, with no warning. It likes to play around, trick you into getting ready for a new phase of the day, only to turn around and say oops, sorry boys, was just a little passing cloud. And that's what's so refreshing about it- - you never know what's next, but you know it'll be warm anyway.

ETHAN

There're many drastically different aspects of the evening-- the gorgeous, strangely grounding stillness of colour as the sun lays its head; couples holding hands in the streets and neighbours walking their dogs together; the busy office buildings lights going off one by one, windows blinking to darkness, and the blinding light of the sun as it goes down the west, for some reason attracting people to its harsh, scorching glow.

Perhaps they find it tranquil.

One thing that ties all this together? It's people, animals, things, going to rest, laying down their shackles after a gruelling day. Not afraid to simply let go and be, because they know another day is coming.

Putting their own meaning in the mundane and projecting their love onto the ordinary, like how suddenly, sniffing the usual salmon-with-broccoli dinner when you get home from a long day of work is strikingly the most beautiful smell that'll ever seem to grace you.

Similar and yet different from himself, in more ways than i can describe. He's so spirited, blazing out in ways that people like us cannot begin to imagine, slogging away and giving every little bit, every little fibre of his being to his job. To the world, to humanity.

We know he's tried to rest. But really, there's always the next day. All for the purpose of preserving, perpetuating the sweet sweet taste of rest. To protect the peace in which we can rub our dog's belly, snuggle up with a significant other, sigh at a disappearing sunset. Even though he may never get to suck on, chew, digest that oh so palpable relief.

And, like the evening sun, there's something so inherently beautiful about that. He lives out his days with some sort of fiery purpose, flickering at times, but never going out.

Have you ever noticed how drawn people get to fires?

ILSA

When the sun breaks into the horizon at dawn, it's quiet about it. Furtive, almost shying away from the prying stare of the early birds. But it rises steadily all the same, never batting an eye as it pushes them to sing and children to leap out of bed. Gaining strength as it does, too, gently shaking awake the little beings in their beds, snoring away, as some others hurry along with their day.

lIsa's a sign of renewal like that. She springs up change, invigorates thought, eggs on action. It's not particularly evident, but it's fact-- so factual that it's taken as a given. No one counts on the sun to stay on the other side when the clock strikes a certain point, does it? No one forgets the reason they draw their curtains, push their flowerpots into just the right spots.

She's the driving force, the very energy powering through your veins. The type you don't realise is essential, but once it wanes even in the slightest, you drop to the ground, feeling the strain. She's an essential. The starting domino.

You know it's exactly what you need to feel energized, what you need feel to have that little bud of warmth in your chest bloom and remind you you're human. In more ways than one-- reminding you you can feel, you can hurt, bleed, win, yearn. And as time goes it coats her strength, polishing it and embroidering it with little marks that show she's withstanding the wear of time.

But it's funny, really, that her irrevocability should be so overlooked.

No, it's lovely how the full force of her shine dilutes itself over her landscape, concentrating just the right amount of her glow into people's lives. And every morning, there'll be a few regulars, standing at the edge of their balconies. They tiptoe, crane their necks so far in front just to drink in the beauty of her providence, smiling when the warmth soaks their skin, when the shine seeps in through their eyelids.

And all is right in the world.

[cunning-and-cool]

idk man but something about Stanley "taught himself extremely advance physics/math/probably many other things while running a relatively successful business" Pines and Stanford "is wanted in almost every dimension with a judicial system of some kind" Pines is sooo fucking funny to me

[bookwyrminspiration]

god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait

[modmad]

hey! there's zero esims left for the connecting gaza campaign as of today. i remember you promoting them earlier. could you give them a much needed boost?

oh dang! unfamiliar with that particular campaign, as I always donate via crips for e-sims because it's super easy to do, but regardless let's go people!

[spextkrr]

GET BOOPED BITCH

while you're at it, please don't forget ur daily click for palestine!

[teaboot]

When I was a kid one of my moms would call her period "moon time" or "her monthlies" or shit like that and my other mom straight up stealthed it, but when I'm a dad I think I'm gonna go straight down the middle and call it Werewolf Week. Like sorry kids, dad can't roughouse right now, it's Werewolf Week

[myballsitchaurghouchie]

I can imagine The Characters to any song

[thatbuddie]

people telling you they reread your fic is the biggest compliment you could ever receive. there are thousands of stories out there begging to be found, to be explored, but your story meant so much to someone that they came back to it eagerly, they went over every word again. to love is to return and loving a fic is rereading it. thank you to all readers and rereaders <3333

[obsob]

i am a being capable of immeasurable love and whimsy

[mysillycomics]

[starbuck]

i say i like tragedies and everyone’s all like ‘why do you like sad stories? are you depressed?’ and never ‘how was the catharsis? was the catharsis fun?’

[krispytm]

You can only reblog this today or until the next Monday, June 19th, 2028.

[mossy-addison]

You guys really liked my last poll so

[calicorobin]

beanbag chair psychology