#berenice x reader

[the-banana-0verlord]

Hi, I just wanted to drop by and say that I really like your "The yanderes of Nevermore" story. There's not enough self insert content for Nevermore, which is a shame since it's such a good webtoon. I wanted to ask you, based on the given backgrounds for the darling in Nevermore, have you envisioned specific spectres for them? Ex: Lenore's darling was kidnapped by her before their death, so maybe the darling's spectre is related to being a captive?

it's shame there isn't much nevermore content to begin with, tbh, so i wouldn't be surprised if i was the first to do self insert of it(tell me if you find more tho, the craving for new content is constant)

In the beginning I hadn't been as far as to give a spectre for the reader, but your ask got me thinking so I brang out the fantasy nerd I am and searched for potential spectres. Also, since i haven't figured out their deaths, I gave most of them a spectre that matched tehir yandere's.

So Lenore's darling was killed by lightning, so their spectre would be lightning related. They would have the form of a chinese dragon, often associated with weather. It's type would be Benevolent.

Annabel's darling would be a puppet, as they are always under her manipulation and gaslighting. It's type would be Malevolent.

Duke's Darling would be a poltergeist, which is at it's core a troublemaker, very befitting for the darling's personnality. It's type would be Neutral.

Pluto's darling is a mouse. It's kinda obvious with the cat/mouse relationship, but I think it fits the darling, as they are sweet and kind, who are mouse attributes. It's type would be Benevolent.

Eulalie's darling is a creature that ressembles Frankenstein's monster. It's a very peculiar monster who would certainly peek her interest. It's type would be Neutral.

Berenice's darling would be a moth person (mothman but gender neutral), as some kinds of bats feed off moths. It's type would be Neutral.

Morella's darling is a saint martyr. I'm not very well versed with christian mythology, but a guardian angel must be used to protect them. It's type would be Benevolent.

Ada's darling is a siren, who is known to lure people by singing about their deepest desires. Knowing Ada, she wouldn't last long before falling into her darling's charms. It's type would be Malevolent.

Prospero's darling would be a dove harpy, to accentuate the symbolism of death in his spectre and of life in the darling's. It's type would be Benevolent.

Montresor's darling would be a nymph. In greek mythology, satyrs often chase nymphs, and satyrs have goat legs, like Montresor. It's type would be Benevolent.

Will's darling is Medusa. Will is already devoted to Montresor, who has a snake's tongue, so it would only make sense for him to fall for a literal snake. It's type would be Malevolent.

Merry and Mourn's darling doesn't have a spectre. The deans use their position of power to subdue their darling, so they wouldn't like for them to gain some weapon that could help in their escape.

So yeah, these were my thoughts. It was fun to get into my old mythology books and to search for potential spectres, thank you for the ask!

[enbysanavi]

Nevermore WEBTOON with a reader who was the only survivor part 1

Lenore was curious when she spotted someone else that wasn’t in the school uniform.

You had heterochromia with one eye being brown and the other being grey. You wore a suit similar to the deans but had more colour.

Everyone seemed to be avoiding you even when you offered helpful advice on how to activate their spectral forms.

Lenore was the first to willingly approach you and ask who you were.

You introduced yourself as the final remaining student from the class before.

She was baffled and instantly asked why you weren’t alive. She then realised that that may not be the best thing to ask.

You chuckle and tell her that you’d rather stay here and give the students a fighting chance. After all, you lived your life and didn’t see the reason to lose what you accomplished here.

Lenore was ecstatic.

She practically had a walking talking guide book on how to survive and she had a new ally.

She asked if you were interested in helping multiple students survive.

You looked at her curiously. Not once had someone asked to have multiple people saved.

You said yes and Lenore practically dragged you to the hideout, rushing past Annabel Lee and her posey.

When the two got to the hideout Duke and Pluto were already there, relaxing on a couch that they misfits had “burrowed”

Pluto was hesitant at first when he saw you. Same as Duke, he was less trusting to others after being trapped behind a wall and almost killed.

Eulalie and Berenice were the next two to show up and instantly asked Lenore why you were in their hide out.

Eulalie was marginally more friendly than the other misfits and walked over to greet you, commenting on your different coloured eyes and saying how it reminded her of dirt and water.

You thanked her.

When you properly introduced yourself as the survivor of the previous class there were a lot of questions thrown at you.

The most asked one was “What does your spectre look like?”

You suggested that everyone’s goes in a circle and introduces their spectre form.

Duke was the first to stand up and say he was a jester like being that could turn invisible and control objects.

Berenice was next saying she was a type of vampire with wings and a lot of mouths.

Eulalie said that she was a being of pure essence. Whatever that means.

Pluto said he was a cat person.

A weird thing to bring up but You could tell he liked cats just by his demeanour then you realised he was talking about his spectre.

Then when you looked to Lenore she shrugged. She said she hadn’t transformed yet.

You said your spectre was a sort of goat-

You also ignored the way that Duke and Pluto tensed up.

You explained how you could make flowers and plants bend to your will and just generally more like a satyr than a goat.

Lenore then asked the big question on how you survived.

You sighed because this would be a long story

[literaryavenger]

Stargazing

Summary: You and Bucky are spending some time together under the stars.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: None, just a whole lot of fluff. Nerd Bucky. Nerd Reader. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word count: 1K because I'll kick myself I can't make anything short.

Prompt: we're sitting on your roof at midnight and you're pointing out every constellation but out of every star, you shine the brightest.

A/N: I wrote this story in like two hours, so bear with me. I don't know a lot about Astronomy, so I googled everything I put on here. I do know my fair share of Mythology but I realise some things may be wrong or just simply different from things you know, who knows Mythology knows there are a lot of versions of the same story, anything I wrote here are the version I've learned over the years, so no hate, but I'm always open to talk about it more if anyone wants to. Always respectfully, of course. Also, I wrote and posted this from my phone so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

Masterlist

“And see those three stars that make an angle?” Bucky points up to them. “That's Coma Berenices.”

One thing not many people know about Bucky Barnes is his love of Astronomy.

Back in the 40s he loved studying the constellations, learning as much as he could. So, after he regained control of his mind and joined the Avengers, he spends his free time catching up in all things space related he's missed since.

You have never been particularly interested in Astronomy, but seeing how passionate your boyfriend gets when it comes to it, you can never say no when he asks you to stargaze with him.

That's why you've spent countless times now in the position you are right now: Laying on a blanket next to Bucky on the roof of the Avengers Compound, looking at the stars and listening to him tell you all about them.

“That one's Cassiopeia…��� He points to it. “That one's Lacerta…”

You giggle a little at the funny name and look at him. “Lacerta?”

“It means ‘the Lizard’.” He informs you with a grin while looking at you too.

“Of course it does.” You say playfully and look back up.

“That one is Camelopardalis…” He traces the stars to give you an idea of the shape.

“Now you're just making things up.” You tease him while looking back at his face to find him glaring playfully at you.

“It means giraffe.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Alright, you little geek.” You smile at his indignified scoff but you can see he's fighting a smile, and losing.

You look at each other with goofy smiles for a moment before you softly say, “What else?” prompting him to go on.

He looks back at the stars for a moment before he starts tracing another constellation.

That's something Bucky loves to do, like the most intricate game of connect the dots ever, and he wins every time.

Sometimes you've even made it into a game, trying to find all the stars in a constellation before the other, but he has the unfair advantage of actually knowing them all. But you always have fun playing, even if you end up behaving like children.

And looking at him right now, his eyes on the stars and his hand up to trace them with his finger, you can't take your eyes off of him and you know, out of all the constellations, he shines the brightest.

“That…” He traces the biggest constellation he's shown you tonight. “is the Ursa Major.”

His voice snaps you out of it and you look back up. He's shown you these same constellations time and time again, every time with the same passion and every time you listen intently, just enchanted by his voice.

“And that one…” He traces another one. “is Pegasus.”

Huh, that was a new one. You look at it while tilting your head. “Pegasus?”

“Yeah, that one I don't know what it means.” He chuckles, about to move on to another set of stars when you interrupt him.

“Pegasus is a winged horse from Greek Mythology.” You say before you can stop yourself.

Mythology is something you've always found fascinating and, much like Bucky with Astronomy, you've always tried to learn as much as you could about it.

Unlike Bucky, you've always kept this small passion to yourself, which is why Bucky is looking at you right now with a confused yet amused raise of his eyebrow.

“What? Can't a girl know a random fact?” You say playfully while looking back up at the stars to hide your slight blush.

“So that's all it is? A random fact?” Bucky asks, his eyes still on you and you know he can tell there's more to it. He knows you pretty well, after all.

“Maybe…” You say playfully, finally looking at him with a small smile.

“Tell me more about it?” He says softly, not pushing you to talk but letting you know he's open to listen if you want.

“Well…” You say quietly after a moment, looking back at the stars as you think about what to tell him. “Pegasus was born from Poseidon-”

“Poseidon?” He interrupts you with a small frown. “The god of the ocean?”

“Yeah…” You chuckle, looking at him. “He's also known as the God of Horses.”

“He is?” He frowns more. “Why?”

“Well, according to Greek mythology he invented them.” You explain with a smile. “He created them out of foam from the ocean in order to be elected as the patron god of a new city. But Athena created an olive tree and the citizens saw that as more useful and chose her, naming their city Athens.”

Bucky looks at you with awe, his entire attention on you now as you enthrall him with your words.

“And he was the father of Pegasus?” Bucky asks you, just wanting to hear more of your voice.

“Yeah, Poseidon was his father and Medusa his mother.” You look back up at the stars, trying to  recall more details of the story. “He was born when Medusa got decapitated by Perseus. The blood from her neck fell into the ocean and, out of the white foam, came Pegasus, along with Chrysaor.”

“Chrysaor?” He asks, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Another horse with wings?”

“No, he was a boar with wings.” You correct him. “Chrysaor comes from a name that means ‘he who has a golden sword’. Pegasus doesn't have a meaning, but it symbolizes divine inspiration or the journey to Heaven, because…”

You keep talking about Greek mythology as you look at the stars, Bucky’s eyes on you the whole time.

He finally understands why you love hearing him talk about Astronomy so much even though you have virtually no interest in it.

The way you talk about Mythology, the knowledge and the passion you show… It's breathtaking to see, and Bucky never wants to stop listening to you at this moment. 

If you were looking at him you'd see the same look you have on your face when you look at him talking about the stars, the same look he has when he's looking at the stars…

He may love to stargaze, but the biggest, brightest of them all is laying right beside him, and that’s definitely his favorite.

[takescrackseriously]

Yandere Prospero!

He took me the longest, both in terms of planning and colouring.

His drawing is made up mainly of black so I had to use pen (at the time I made these I ran out of black paint). That's meant to be a skull mask in his hand. I drew it oddly. Not to mention the trouble I had with the colours. I already has Berenice for the red-black combo, so I used purple with Prospero's because in a panel with his spectre, purple was used somewhere.

In terms of personality for his yandere version, I'm still a bit loss. I feel like out of every single Nevermore character, he just isn't fit to be yandere. He isn't ever really shown to be immensely drawn to literally anyone.

Plus, he's aromantic. Now technically you could still write him being in a romantic relationship as long as you don't ignore his aromantism and personally I would love seeing more people explore more aromantic labels, it's interesting to read about. But another option is platonic yandere and those should also be explored more.

Okay, that's all for the yandere nevermore this time, I'll probably do more characters next year in April. Also, if anyone has any request for poorly done doodles of the yandere nevermores, please send requests.

Bye bye and please if you want to, write x readers, I need them :)

[bravo4iscool]

torn apart chapter 9 (index)

(cato hadley x fem!(plus-size!)reader)

You stand beside Cato as the both of you say goodbye to your guests. The wedding party was finally coming to an end and you were more than happy to finally return home. He was holding your hand, a shockingly convincing smile on his face as he spoke to your guests.

Now and then you said a couple of sentences but Cato did most of the talking. And you were glad for that. You weren’t as convincing as him. Just as you said goodbye to the last couple and you thought you were done for the day you saw a familiar figure stalk towards you.

Without noticing, your grip around Cato’s hand tightens and a frown starts to form on Cato’s face as he looks down on you. He knew the woman walking in your direction, you both knew her but why were you so tense all of a sudden? 

“Cato,” the woman says in a thick Capitol accent once she reaches the both of you. “How are you?” she tries to embrace him in a hug, not paying attention to you. You let go of Cato’s hand and take a small step back. 

Once she lets go of him you clear your throat. “Berenice,” you greet her with a small nod. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” You try to force a kind smile but you couldn’t quite do it. You and Berenice never got along. She was together in the academy with you and Cato but somehow managed to catch the eye of a Capitol man and now she is here, married into the Capitol. 

She lets out a disgusting chuckle. “Well my dear, how can I miss this? This is the wedding of the year!” she exclaims, her hand lingering on Cato’s arm. “I just needed to see if Cato would really–” she looks you up and down. “–marry you.” 

You tense your jaw, crossing your arms behind your back. But before you or Cato can say anything Berenice starts talking again. “I mean, he could be off better, you know.” She checks you out again. “This is nothing against you, my dear—“ It definitely was against you. “—but, well…” 

You ground your teeth, not sure if you’d be able to bite back but suddenly Cato starts talking. “If you have nothing nice to say, Berenice , me and my wife are going to leave now.” He grabs you—gently—by your waist and leads you away. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumble as you look over your shoulder one last time. There’s a scowl on your face as you turn your head around again.

Cato just shrugs, his hand leaving your waist. “I know,” he says. “But I didn’t want to talk to her and I didn’t like the way she was treating you .” He looks at you, crossing his hands behind his back. “Besides, I’m tired and I would really like to go home.” 

You nod along and purse your lips. “Then, uh, we should do that.” You stand in front of him awkwardly for a few more moments before he starts to move and you just follow him. You both leave the wedding hall and he helps you into the limousine, getting in after you.

Once you both sit inside the silence gets weird again. You fidget with your hands, staring ahead of you. There was something you wanted to address but you didn’t quite know how… But apparently Cato could read your thoughts because he clears his throat and looks at you.

“We’re married now,” he says in a slow voice and you simply nod. You were. “And as we both know, married people sleep together, in a bed.” As you look at him you can see that he was uncomfortable. You don’t think you have ever seen him like that. “If you would not like that, I can continue sleeping on the couch–”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, Cato. I do not…mind sharing a bed. It’s what married people do. I guess…” You could feel a blush creeping up your neck. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before,” you mumble after that, remembering the night of his night terrors. You turn your head away again, not sure what to do. It was so weird. You are married now. It still didn’t really reach your head. 

Cato bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks of what to say next. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he then mumbles in a quiet voice, not looking at you. “My nightmares get bad sometimes. And I don’t want to put you at a risk ,” he explains and you look at him again.

“I promised you to stand beside you in the good and the bad,” you answer, your voice soft. “I don’t think you will hurt me. And if you do, it’s not your fault .” You hesitate for a second before you place your hand on his. You expect him to pull back, but he doesn’t. “If you would like, we can work on your nightmares. Maybe they will get better,” you suggest, waiting for him to look at you.

And then he does. You can’t read the look in his eyes, you don’t think you ever could, but it’s almost vulnerable. Slowly he nods and a small smile spreads on your lips before you pull your hand back, missing the warmth of his palm immediately. 

You look ahead of you again, waiting for the limousine to finally arrive at your apartment. This would be an awkward night, you knew that. Your mother probably expected you to jump each other the second the door closes but that wouldn’t happen. Absolutely not. In no way. You don’t even think you’ll ever get another kiss from Cato. 

(previous chapter | next chapter | index)

[rogerswifesblog]

A/N: it’s my first time writing this much angst, I hope you like it. It’s sad. No Happy End.

Please feedback?🥺❤️

Written in the stars

Summary: Steve always loved you. And he’d always love you, in health…and in sickness. Till your forever would end. You two only hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon,

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, cancer, angst, angst, angst, fluff, but it’s sad

You and Steve met 6 years ago, literally bumping into each other on the streets. He had spilled his coffee over your white shirt-yes, very Rom-com cliché. He gave you his hoodie to wear, and his number in case you’d like to call him…

You did.

After six months of pinning, meeting the avengers and a lot of teasing you were together. A perfect, happy couple.

Steve had realized he loved you very quickly into your friendship-two months after meeting you, you had invited him over (not for the first time), but this time you wanted to show him something. Something that you loved. A little hobby and passion of yours.

Stargazing.

While you were laying on the blanket, covered with another one, your gaze was glued to the sky-while Steve had only eyes for you. He couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes were so sparkly and pretty…your pretty lips so rosy and soft looking…and the smile creeping over your face whenever you saw a shooting star.

“Oh Steve look! The Coma Berenices…”, your voice brought him out of his thoughts, quickly looking to the sky. “It’s really pretty…”, he mumbled, once again letting his gaze slide to you. “Beautiful even….”

He put his arm around you “come here, little star, have it comfortable”, he laughed gently in your hair, pulling the blanket higher.

You had spent many hours just stargazing. After a while you had put your head on his chest, cuddling him closer, since it was a bit cold. Well, you had the blanket, which was technically enough, but….but you really wanted to cuddle him. And he enjoyed it as much as you did.

When you fell asleep on his chest, talking about the stars and how much you loved watching them. He had known about a few of your hobbies-but you’ve never talked with so much passion about something. It made his heartbeat fasten.

In this new world people didn’t show their feelings or love for other stuff than technology-internet, YouTube or Netflix. Everything was always about social media-and he was an old fashioned man. Don’t get him wrong, technology was great but he enjoyed the simple things. Like sketching or…or just stargazing.

He fell in love.

What he didn’t know was that you had also fallen for him that day.

Steve had asked you if you wanted him as your boyfriend-which was sweet. He didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. He asked you to be yours.

And he did it again. Three years later.

He asked you if you’d let him be your husband. Be the one at your side for the rest of your life. Be your forever.

But you didn’t know that forever would end so soon.

Five years into your relationship you got married. It was a small ceremony, with Natasha being on your side, while Steve had Bucky standing behind him.

Steve cried. (You did too.)

Natasha said she didn’t cry. (She totally did.)

Bucky cried openly, seeing his best friend-that one that got beaten up in alleys twice a week-getting married.

One year after your marriage you got diagnosed.

You were taken to a hospital, after passing out while shopping with Natasha. She was supposed to help you find a pretty dress for your anniversary.

You tried on a dress, spinning around and needing to sit down after that. Moments later you lost consciousness.

Cancer.

Terminal cancer, to be specific.

You were completely surprised with this diagnosis-shocked, actually. It came out of the blue. Well, you were a bit more tired lately, slept more and had trouble with your appetite. You were often exhausted by doing very simple things, like walking down the stair-lately even carrying the laundry was difficult.

Maybe you should’ve seen it coming?

Steve spent the next hours with you, just holding you in a tight hug.

Needing it as much as you did.

Maybe even more than you.

Definitely more than you.

In the evening he had to leave you, since he wasn’t allowed to spend the night in the hospital. (He tried the Captain America card. Didn’t work. Stupid people. His wife was dying and he wasn’t allowed to be with her.)

He spent the night in Bucky's room, not being able to be alone.

He cried.

Hours passed and he was still crying.

Until he fell asleep.

Three months passed and you felt weaker every day. Steve stopped going on missions to be with you-he didn’t tell you that, but you knew. You knew why he was doing this.

He wanted to spend more time with you. The last days, weeks….as long as you had left. Which probably wasn’t that long anymore. You could tell it wouldn’t take long.

Steve knew it too. He could hear your weak heartbeat. Your heavy breathing…

You slept a lot-making him nervous Every Time you went to sleep or napped. He was scared you wouldn’t wake up one time, which made him scared of falling asleep himself.

Steve gave you a gentle kiss, walking past the couch on which you were sitting. “Hungry, sweetheart?”, he asked, putting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. A small smile crept over your face, while you put your head in your neck and looked up at him. Your eyes seemed so sad…slowly losing their sparkle.

“I could eat”, you mumbled. “Okay, I’ll make you…something that I won’t burn”, he grinned, giving you another kiss. It made you laugh quietly too. He really was a bad cook, always burning everything-but with the many tutorials (and JARVIS’ reminder to check the food) he managed to make decent meals. Even really good ones.

Even Bucky ate with you two once, praising the food, thinking you had cooked. He didn’t believe it, when you two told him the truth. You remember the red blush on his cheeks hearing the praise.

Twenty minutes later Steve sat down next to you, two bowls in his hands, one for you, the other for himself, clearly a much bigger portion. “I think it’s not salty enough-but I’m not sure”, he mumbled, looking at you and waiting for a reaction.

After eating a bite you shook your head quickly. “It’s really good. I like it”, you mumbled, slowly leaning your head against his shoulder. Enjoying the warmth radiating from his body.

If someone had asked you ten years ago, If you wanted to die you'd say yes.

If someone had asked you, If you were afraid of dying you’d say no. Back then, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel like life was worth living. Always working, being stressed and not being able to sleep from all the coffee you were drinking, to staying awake at work. You often had enough, just needing to scream into your pillow to let out your frustrations.

You hadn’t really appreciated life. You hadn’t found your reason to love life.

Until meeting this gorgeous, sweet man.

He made life worth living. You loved every second you spent with him.

Now you are scared. You didn’t want to die. Not when you had your whole life with Steve before you.

A single tear rolled down your cheek. You didn’t want to leave Steve behind. He didn’t deserve it.

While Steve had made your life worth living, the same happened to him. Having met you, he finally felt like he had a purpose. Not as Captain America, but as Steve. You made him happy.

“Today is a meteor shooting. Maybe you’d like to watch it? I could put some blankets on the roof…make us some snacks…”, Steve mentioned one day, while you were a bit stronger than the days before, taking a walk outside.

Steve still wanted you to hold onto his arm, which you gladly did, leaning your head against his bicep.

Smiling brightly, you looked up at him. He finally saw some of the sparkle he had missed so much. “Yes, it’s so sweet you remembered, Mr Rogers”, grinning you gave him a kiss on his cheek-to do that you needed to step on your toes. Steve pulled you a bit closer, kissing your lips gently. “Of course I remembered Mrs Rogers. It’ll be a beautiful night”, he whispered, giving you a few gentle kisses on your face.

A few hours later you two were laying down on a blanket on the roof, with you cuddling against his chest. He was like a human heat pack- “I’m what?”, you felt your cheeks blush, realising you had said these words out loud. “Oh god, sorry Steve-it’s just you’re so warm”, you laughed quietly, matching his own laugh.

He shook his head slightly. “Yeah, okay, you’re always telling me I’m warm but…a heat pack? Interesting” Steve grinned, looking at the sky, slowly turning a darker shade, from the most beautiful rosy, organ he and purple shades the the dark night shades, lighted with beautiful bright stars.

Both of you sighed, watching the stars shining brighter than ever.

It felt special.

A special, beautiful night.

“There’s the constellation Coma Berenices…”, you pointed at the sky, where you saw it-knowing that Steve had no idea what you were talking about, but he liked listening either way. He tried to find it. “I remember you’ve mentioned it a few times before…What does it look like?”

You pointed once again at the stars. “These…these three stars in the half square are the main stars” “what is it about?”he asked, looking at the stars you were pointing at.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “It’s a constellation for lovers-well, technically for the sacrifice of the beautiful hair of Queen Berenice of Egypt. She did it for her husband Ptolemy…was so concerned for his safety when he went off to war….so she vowed to cut off her glorious long hair as a sacrifice to Venus”, you whispered, closing your eyes slowly.

“Did it work?” Steve sounded hopeful, making you smile a bit. He had such a good heart. “Yes. He came home safely…and Zeus placed Berenices beautiful hair in the heavens to shine among the stars…” “that’s a beautiful story.”

You nodded slowly. “It really is….I get why she did it. I’d do everything for you too”, you whispered. Steve was quiet for a moment, looking at the brightly shining stars. He kissed your head gently. “I’d do everything for you too. Meeting you was the best thing that happened to me.”

Smiling, you put your arm around his waist, inhaling his rich smell. “I love you, Steve. You’re the love of my life…the reason I was the happiest I’ve ever been in the last few years. God, you’ve no idea”, you said, which nearly ended in a sob. Steve felt like he could cry himself, which he often did.

“I love you too, my little star.”

You smiled, looking at the Coma Berenices again, then also seeing another shooting star. Then you closed your eyes again, cuddling a bit closer against his chest.

Lying in Steve’s arms was an incredible feeling.

He was your home.

It’s the best place you could imagine ever being.

It was perfect.

For a while you two just watched the shooting stars. The sky was filled with beautiful and bright lights. Nature was the most beautiful thing. Incredible.

Feeling Steve hugging you even closer-if that was possible-made you sigh quietly, softly.

If hugs could heal, you’d never be sick in the first place. Maybe they did. Maybe Steve’s embrace was the only thing you needed.

The pain stopped.

Steve stroked over your hair gently. Another star fell, making him smile lightly. “Look, another one.”

But no answer came. “Sweetheart, we’ve been here for only two hours, you can’t sleep now”, he laughed, gently shaking your shoulder.

You still didn’t move.

He took a deep breath, listening to your heartbeat.

Silence.

Gently kissing your head he stroked over your hair, not holding the tears back anymore. It was over. Your pain was over.

And he was happy he was with you, till your forever came to an end. You weren’t alone. You died in his arms.

In the arms of your true love. He knew you were happy in your last moments, doing what you loved the most, watching the stars. With him. He knew you loved him, he saw it in your eyes everyday. Even when your sparkle vanished, he saw love.

“I’ll love you till my forever ends, my little star…”

And looking up at the sky he knew you were looking right back at him. Free. At peace.

Thank you for reading!

Please interact, leave some feedback!❤️

I’m thinking about writing another one shot about this-maybe some fluff and cute memories or something, or Steve’s life after…I’m not sure, but I enjoyed writing this. (Even if it broke my heart, it was nice to write something like this)

[fake-hair]

Coma Berenices

Cole x Reader

Looking up at the stars, watching them twinkle in the sky, while laying on coles chest is probably your favorite way to pass time at night. You two always drive to some random field and lay on a blanket watching the stars while he tells you about constellations. 

Your head lays on his chest while his arm is wrapped around your waist holding you close and his other hand is pointing out the constellations. “ you see those 3 stars right there that connect to make an “L”?” he asks, pointing to them. I nod, knowing he’ll feel the movement. “Well that's Coma Berenices the story based on queen Berenice ii who ruled in Ancient Egypt between 267-221 BC. When Queen Bernice’s husband Ptolemy III went to war, she was desperate to ensure his safe return. Her beautiful golden hair was the pride of Egypt so she cut it off and laid the locks as a sacrifice in the temple of Aphrodite. The goddess of love was so moved by Bernice’s devotion that she delivered Ptolemy safely back to his wife and used the hair to decorate the sky in tribute to the lovers.” As he tells the story he rubs my waist. “Love really is measurable, people would do anything for someone they love.” He sighs. “Yeah, that's why it's so dangerous.” I add on and he hums in response. “ I would do anything for you, even if it meant I would have to face the most unbearable consequences.” He states. “ And I would do the same for you, but let's try not to get into that situation.” I reply, scooting closer, and tucking my head more into his neck. “I'll try.” He adds, but i dont reply, not wanting to say anything more. We sit in silence looking at the endless sky, knowing that the sky was nothing compared to the amount of love we had eachother.

[sartle-blog]

Art History Reader: How to Read a Photograph (As Art)

Robert Frank, Trolley - New Orleans, 1955, Gelatin silver print, 8 5/8 x 13 1/16 in., The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

  From Rembrandt to Frida Kahlo, artists have long found inspiration in the mirror. While their painted selfies may have taken a bit longer to create, they are not so different from what we post on Instagram. Whether it's to share your experiences or please the algorithm, we continue this trend of photographing ourselves for our followers. Our technology allows us to do this through the grueling work of clicking a button, not to mention using apps to edit and perfect this version of us. The amount of likes then confirms that we have shared a significant picture with the world, as we sit back and wait for verification from the Pulitzer or TIME committees. However, contrary to social media’s endorsements, “liking” a photograph isn’t the same as critically reading a photograph. 

There is more to a photograph than simply looking at it. Since we are so inundated with images--from the news, social media, and memes--slowing down, practicing visual literacy, and comprehending what we see is essential. Here are a few easy steps to start to more critically read and analyze photographs. 

  Do a formal analysis. 

Just like checking an influencer’s photos for Photoshop mistakes, slow down and look at every nook and cranny of the photograph. Try to see each item and element individually without creating any expectations or stories. List the items, people, words, indications of location, and the elements of art in the image. Photographs are a record of light, bouncing, reflecting, and being absorbed by different surfaces. Acknowledge the light and colors that are visible.

Consider the example of Robert Frank’s Trolley, seen above. There are strong lines that create a grid to frame the shapes of the subjects. The light is diffused likely from the clouded sky creating bouncing reflections on the trolley siding. Photographs that have many aspects to formally analyze are:

Gunsmith and Police Department, 6 Centre Market Place and 240 Centre Street, Manhattan by Berenice Abbott

Untitled by Francesca Woodman

  Examine the composition.

After looking at the individual elements, see the image as a whole. Be aware of how your eyes move through the photograph, observing if there are places for pause. Consider the overall tone of the work, whether there is more complexity or harmony in the shapes, patterns, light, color, and contrast. Ask yourself whether these moments create a sense of balance or instability. Again, practice looking rather than creating assumptions. 

The composition of Trolley is very formal and symmetrically balanced by the trolley’s wall and windows. The subjects are centered horizontally. The contrast overall is rather high, where the middle gray frames the subjects. Photographs that have strong compositions are:

Roadside Stand, Vicinity Birmingham, Alabama by Walker Evans

At the Time of the Louisville Flood by Margaret Bourke-White

  Identify the narrative.

Now that we’ve read the receipts we can spill all the tea we want! Think about the story and meaning of the photograph. While photographs are documents of the world around us, each image is carefully curated by the artist with regard to the story they want to tell. Sometimes that narrative is about people, where the expressions, actions, and clothing (or lack thereof) convey the character’s personality. Objects and colors can give more abstract context to the story, being symbolic of a larger idea. Be aware of what is not included in the frame as well based on any shadows, lines, or shapes surrounding the subject.

In Trolley, the assumption is that the passengers are using public transportation. The facial expressions and clothing indicate personalities, showing irritability in the older woman, apathy and concern in the children, and resignation in the man. Consider their lack of interaction. Other photographs with strong narratives include:

Flower Power by Bernie Boston 

Untitled Film Still #35 by Cindy Sherman 

  Give context to the artwork.

Now that we have an understanding of what is going on in a photograph, we have to establish the why. The artist’s goals often shift the way a viewer interprets an image. Context can be given in two ways: within the photograph or through a title and artist statement.

Within the photograph, explore the details of location and time period. Location can be explored through the scenery, whether there is urban infrastructure or natural landscapes. The time in history can be more difficult to establish but clothing and objects often give it away. The time period is essential for understanding the social and political atmosphere of the scene. Tension and upheaval in racial, gender, and economic inequalities are prevalent throughout twentieth century photographs. While these larger ideas are not always the ultimate goal of the artist, it is important to understand the historical context.

The artist statement gives a very specific version of the artist’s story and objectives. These will place the exact year of the image and often describe the process and story behind the photograph. No photograph is neutral nor can it be objectively read. Viewers bring their own preconceived ideas to each image based on their own beliefs of what is visualized and what a photograph can do. The artist usually has a specific story they are telling to share information, create commentary, and give visuals to situations and ideas. 

The racial tensions in Trolley are the primary subject matter. The racially charged atmosphere is clear in the segregation of seats on the trolley. The dispositions of the passengers also hints to the turbulence of the time. Explore these other photographs that show a larger concept with greater context:

American Gothic by Gordon Parks

Self Portrait with Fried Eggs by Sarah Lucas

  Establish where the image exists.

Whether you’re scrolling through Instagram, on a gallery date, or seeing ads in a magazine, the location, size, placement, and space of the photograph can alter the reading of it. Consider where the image exists. Installations of photographs allow the artist to curate a viewer’s experience of the images. Images in advertisements have an indication of commodity and capitalism. Images on social media are immediately given ratings. While the first experience you have with a photograph is not the only way to read the image, the impression of your encounter will affect your reading.

Frank’s Trolley exists within the larger monograph The Americans, a book which features 83 photographs. There is a specific order for the viewer to read the images. Seeing a photograph between the pages of other photographs creates a connection between them, allowing the viewer to understand them in relationship to each other. Consider the following photographs and their installations:

Untitled from The Kitchen Table series by Carrie Mae Weems

The Flooded Grave by Jeff Wall

  Scrolling through Instagram might be a bit easier than critically reading a photograph, but the payoff is worth more than likes. The more practice you have, the better you will be at understanding the ways of truth and manipulation in images. While many of these steps seem simple, the act of slowing down will be beneficial for reading any kind of artwork. You will also be even better at spotting selfie edit fails! 

By: Epiphany Knedler

[biqherosix]

can you bmaybe write a lance x romantic reader where lance gets insecure (abt whatever, you pick☺️) and is crying and reader comforts him

hey stupid, i love you - blurb

fluff, angst

(voltron legendary defender — romantic! lance mcclain x fem! altean princess! reader)

no matter how many times you'd have to reassure lance that you love him for exactly who he is, you would do it. as harsh as it sounds, sometimes a part of you felt like he didn't reciprocate the feelings

cw / mention of major character death

a/n it’s the way i wrote this while staring at keith in his blade of marmora uniform,,, anyway ty ali who paved the way for this fic ngl because i am obsessed with lance and his flower agenda. also @whoseblogsthis was an amazing help during this so please appreciate her please and thank you. enjoy ilysm :)

the constellation of coma berenice. it was beautiful, with its stars dancing around the dark sky above you, telling the story of true love. as it sparkled boldly, you found yourself distracted by a different kind of sparkle — in lance mcclain's blue eyes.

his shrill giggles took you out of your trance, and his infectious joy caused you to do the same. glancing away for a mere moment to bask in the plethora of juniberries, you never thought you could feel so relaxed. though your moment of serenity was cut short when lance's giggles progressively turned into loud laughter.

rolling your eyes, you turned back to him, suddenly being met with a stickiness on your cheek. when the remnants fell into your hand, you scoffed. rubbing the pieces of fruit between your fingers, you smirked. too caught up in his laughter, he laid back onto the blanket, eyes closed. you took advantage of the distraction, silently scooting over. smacking the rest of the crushed fruit onto his cheek, you smothered it all around his face until he sat up in shock.

"oh you're so gonna pay for that!" you shrieked as you felt yourself being pulled towards him. pressing his messy cheek to yours, you made an attempt to squirm out of his grip, but lance's hands dug into your waist, keeping you in place. knowing you wouldn't be leaving this position anytime soon, you relaxed in his arms. out of the corners of of your eyes, you soaked in the way he looked so content from beside you. you let out a giggle at the way lance scrunched up his nose, catching his attention.

"what are you laughing at, pretty lady?" he wiggled his eyebrows, loosening his grip on you. pulling away from him, you felt the heat pooling quickly into your cheeks. shaking your head at his antics, you grabbed a clean napkin.

"just you. you look cute like this. it feels like when we first met." you hummed, gently wiping the sticky mess away. lance removed his arms from you, mirroring your actions as he cleaned your cheek.

"and how exactly do you remember that? you falling in love at first sight for a human like me from planets away?" he smirked, placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"not exactly. from my knowledge, it was you falling for me when you tripped over coran's foot in an attempt to bow in greetings. quiznack, you were such a mess. but i guess that's what makes you quite loveable, don't you think?" you scoffed. nudging him and leaning your head on his shoulder, lance nodded in response. you made no effort to speak, instead reaching forward to pick out several flowers.

swallowing yourselves in a silence, your fingers worked through weaving the stems. a small smile creeped up on your face as altea's legacy lived on through you, through the mcclain's and their small juniberry farm. but the thought quickly turned bitter upon the realization that your sister wasn't able to see it, nor would she ever. pursing your lips, your train of thought cut off when lance's soft voice rippled through the air.

"you still don't think i'm a mess...do you?" he breathed, fiddling his hands in his lap. finishing up, you gently placed the flower crown atop his head. admiring your work, your hands lingered a little longer before moving them down to caress his matching altean markings.

"well, on occasion you can come off as a klutz, but it's nothing too major. why do you ask?" you questioned with a laugh. tilting your head in curiosity, lance's smile didn't quite reach his eyes and the sparkle you had come to love didn't shine as bright.

"no reason." your heart dropped at the sudden shift in attitude. the drop in lance's tone was certainly hard to miss. moments passed by where you bore your eyes into him as he refused to meet your gaze. suddenly looking up, your gentleness caused him to tear up. exhaling shakily, he took a moment to find the right words. he began to ramble, "it's just...you're a princess. and you're so perfect! you have your act together all the time; and i mean i guess that's what comes with the position. but, i can't help but think that i'm such a mess compared to you. you could find someone less like me, and someone more like you, so why haven't you? but, it's stupid, i know." the wariness and insecurity seeped through his words, and you couldn’t believe that the bright, beautiful boy you had fallen for could look so wary and broken.

"don't say that. if you're thinking like that, then you don't know me as well as you think you do." you cracked, cupping his cheeks. your eyes had become glossy with your tears, but you made no effort to let them fall as you focused on lance. 

"i'm sorry." he apologized.

"no, don't be! lance, yes you can be a mess. but that's what i love about you! you are one of a kind, and you do so much for your family, for me. why would i want to find someone more like me? then i'd only be living a life of pure boredom. you're what makes my days so much brighter. never forget that please." you assured, and he simply nodded. he tried putting on a brave front, but the look in his eyes said everything. you sighed lightly, furrowing your eyebrows.

"i uh...don't know if it'll help, but i get quite a bit insecure at times as well." you confessed, pulling your hands away from him to lay them in your lap. "sometimes i feel as though we only started dating because allura..." the pain clouded in your chest at the mention of your sister, but it didn't hurt as much when lance took your hand, squeezing it. grimacing, you evaded his gaze by staring back at the juniberries. you cleared your throat before straightening up, a royal move on your part.

"well, you loved her. it had only been a year when we started considering our feelings. i thought, maybe you saw me as someone to bounce back to. someone that reminded you so much of allura, that that's why you're with me in the first place." you admitted, tightening your grip on his hand.

"y/n..."

"no no i know. it's silly, i hate whenever it pops up in my head. but it's something i can't help but think about." you scoffed, staring at your lap. you could hear lance shift around, and your mind was yelling at him to say something.

"i loved allura, and i always will. but y/n, she was never you." he started off. when you looked at him, lips parted in shock, he took it as an opportunity to continue. llifting your hand up to press a soft kiss to the back of it, he exhaled.

"allura felt super horrible after lotor took advantage of her. at the time, i never thought you'd go for a guy like me. so, i spent time with her; at first it was to make sure she wasn't still blaming herself for what happened, or just being there when she needed to talk, that kinda stuff. but over time, i just grew to care for her, and she cared for me too. at first, i thought it was love, but then i realized didn't feel the same way with her that i felt with you." lance explained with nostalgia filled eyes, and you were simply rendered speechless.

“and how do you feel...when you're...with me?" you spoke slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes. the boy simply smiled, taking the spare juniberry that laid in your hand. breaking off the stem, his touch was tender as he placed it behind your ear. his hand stayed on your cheek for for a split second before his fingers traced down to lift your chin up. pulling you closer, his lips met yours in a soft kiss. your stomach filled with fireworks, exploding wildly while your heart sighed in content. you pulled away first, but lance was still able to sneak in a few soft pecks before touching foreheads.

"like that." he whispered against your lips. you hummed, a bright smile on your face. you let yourself admire lance, and you couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh when he made funny faces. regaining your breath, you squeezed his hand.

"hey lance?" you asked.

"hmm?"

"i guess we're both messes after all." you giggled, pulling away fully to lay yourself down on the blanket. lance followed suit, placing an arm around you. as you buried yourself into him, he adjusted his flower crown, staring up at the starry sky. as you felt yourself being lulled into a sleepy trance, the boy rubbed your arms, placing another blanket on top of you both.

"maybe, but i still love you." he whispered in your ear, caressing your hair. as the constellation of true love twinkled brightly in the sky, it would never shine as brightly as the love you and lance had built up in such a short time. closing his eyes as well, he kept you close. and if he had to deal with the consequences of waking up to veronica finding him (with a lopsided flower crown and dopey smile next to his soulmate of all times), he wouldn't mind. and neither would you.

[leepace71]

Director Joe Miale Talks REVOLT

Last year, I came across a fund raising campaign for Africa. It was called Ward 48. What intrigued me about this particular campaign was a film production company started it. It’s not often you see a film production company give back in a public way. This both inspired and encouraged me to learn more about the film REVOLT. I believe the work that they have done helped a small community grow and realize its potential. I hope you enjoy my interview with Film Director and Writer of Revolt, Joe Miale, and find it an informative and delightful read.

REVOLT is a story of humankind’s last stand against a cataclysmic alien invasion. Set in the war-ravaged African countryside, a U.S. soldier and a French foreign aid worker team up to survive the alien onslaught. Their bond will be tested as they search for refuge across a crumbling world. (Source: IMDB) The film is written by Rowan Athale and Joe Miale. It is directed by Joe Miale. It stars Lee Pace, Bérénice Marlohe, Amy Louise Wilson.

In your approach to making Revolt, did you choose to focus on the human experience of a cataclysmic invasion?

Most alien invasion stories are about basic survival, but by now the genre has matured. We saw REVOLT as a chance to make a different kind of invasion film that explores more nuanced themes. When the movie begins, the world is already largely destroyed— the invasion has already occurred and they are already here. I like to call it a mid-invasion movie. Bo wakes up in the middle of the end of the world, and he’s suffering memory loss. He knows he’s a soldier, but doesn’t know why he’s in Kenya, doesn’t know his mission, doesn’t know his name. This is the question at the center of the film: how do you find your place in a crumbling world?

You shot the film South Africa. By the way, a wonderful country. Tell us why you chose this location for the film.

REVOLT is set in Kenya and I felt it was critical we film in Africa. I wanted real African sunsets, red roads lined with the right trees, and as many African actors as possible. We’ve seen plenty of alien invasion films set in the biggest cities or the American Midwest. I wanted to look at this from a different angle. And I wanted it to be as authentic as possible because this kind of science fiction is best when it’s grounded in reality. Ultimately, filming in Kenya proved unfeasible, but we found South Africa to be the best choice. We shot in and around Johannesburg, a city built on gold mines, most of which are now depleted. As a result there are many abandoned facilities which are incredible filming locations. The crumbling concrete, chipped paint, and rusted metal is beautiful on camera. But there is also an inherent sadness to these industrial ruins, quite fitting for our story of a broken world. Some of these locations were very remote and difficult to access, others posed safety concerns, and the city is known for spectacular electrical storms. When you see a lightning bolt in the movie, it’s real! But South Africa is a beautiful country with amazing people. So many movies are made there that aren’t set anywhere near Africa, but they shoot there because of the excellent crews, talent and facilities. A great, unique place to make a film.

How has the community embraced the film? Did they play extras in the film?

The vast majority of our cast and crew were locals from either Johannesburg or Cape Town. We flew in just a handful of people, such as our two lead actors (Lee Pace, Bérénice Marlohe) and our cinematographer (Karl Walter Lindenlaub, who knows a few things about alien invasions.) Some battle scenes required hundreds of extras, all local, often hired from the areas in which we filmed.

Editor’s Note: Karl Walter Lindenlaub was the Cinematographer on Independence Day (1996).

During production, you started a crowdfund campaign, to help the community you were filming in. Tell us what inspired you to do this.

As soon as we arrived in South Africa, we were looking for ways to give back. It felt wrong scouting a township for our film— a piece of entertainment— while the townspeople themselves were hungry and in need. We hired locals often, but those jobs are temporary. We wanted to leave a lasting impact, and Ward 48 provided that opportunity. We are all so proud of the campaign and its contributors. I’m especially proud that my first movie, dreamed up on my couch in Los Angeles, is benefiting real people 10,000 miles away in Ward 48.

Editor’s Note: Although the campaign is currently closed, you can still learn more about it by visiting the campaign page or following REVOLT‘s Twitter page, to see all the great work accomplished.

The campaign was a huge success. What’s next?

The fundraising was indeed a huge success, but spending the funds in an enduring way has been challenging. One of our executive producers, Josh Horsfield, recently posted a progress report after his latest Ward 48 visit. Thanks to the campaign, Ward 48 now has a soup kitchen feeding hundreds of people every single day. According to Josh, the next step is to align with a local organization that can help advance further projects.

Some production companies say casting can be a challenge. How were you able to make the process go smoothly? How did you chose the actors for the leading roles?

Casting is arguably the biggest decision a director makes, as it affects every single moment in the film. Bo (played by Lee Pace) is a difficult character to portray. He is a lost American soldier, a bit stubborn and fully determined to “join the fight.” But his memory is totally blank. And playing amnesia without falling into cliché is a delicate balance. But I knew Lee was up for the task. Lee Pace is the ultimate professional, often the most experienced person on any set. The first time we spoke he seemed eager to tackle these challenges, relishing the workout. And it was often grueling. The story unfolds through Bo’s perspective, so Bo is in every scene. That means Lee was on camera all day every day. Lots of dialogue, lots of action and fight scenes, lots of dusty exterior locations. Sometimes shooting this film was a real battle, and Lee was a real soldier. Nadia Rue (played by Bérénice Marlohe) is foreign-aid worker, a doctor from France, but the invasion has forced her to violence. As a result, her inner light is dimming. She is losing herself and becoming unstable, and that needed to be apparent from her first scene. So the moment I met Berenice, I knew she could deliver that dynamic. She is both radiant and dark at the same time. I felt she has this live wire buzzing beneath the surface, and I needed that energy for Nadia. Our first meeting was over coffee, and we ended up at that table for four hours. We hit it off and from there, it was a simple, gut-level decision.

After production wrapped, what has been your biggest takeaway from the film?

As a writer-director, making one’s first film is a massive education. A thousand film schools an hour. In ways this was the biggest little production I’ve ever heard of. We crashed cars. We blew things up. We filmed monkeys and giraffes. Dozens of locations. Hundreds of extras. And hundreds of VFX shots. I learned everything about making a movie and I was a different person when I finally got back home.

When can movie-goers expect to see the film in theaters?

REVOLT releases later this year. Our online fans have been really cool, very enthusiastic, and extremely patient. And now, things are about to start happening.

Thank you for speaking with me about the film! It’s greatly appreciated.

Please tell our readers how they could continue to contribute to the Ward 48 project. (Note: campaign currently not accepting additional funds.)

Connect with REVOLT:

REVOLT IMDB: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3722614 REVOLT Twitter: https://twitter.com/revoltthemovie

X

[the-banana-0verlord]

The yanderes of Nevermore

Notes: Gn reader, yandere themes, etc. You can choose to see some sort of contuinity between the paragraphs or not. also GO READ NEVERMORE IT’S AWESOME AND ON WEBTOON.

***

There were times when you made Lenore saner and others where you drived her crazy. But it all broke down on the day she kidnapped you, taking you away from your arranged marriage until lightning struck twice and killed you both.

Annabel Lee was absolutely whipped with you. She learned the news of your death the day of her unhappy wedding, as the knife of her fiancé struck through her heart. But now that she found you again, she’ll use all of her power to make sure you’ll stay by her side.

It was common knowledge that Morella had nothing else than good intentions. It was those intentions that drove away all of the people she considered a “bad influence”, even if they were your friends. You were left isolated, turning to her and only her for support.

Duke was a trickster: one second he was there, the next he was nowhere to be seen. You were also a troublemaker, a quality not unseen by him. Using nothing but his wits, he tricked you into more trouble than you thought, with only him able to be your knight in shining armor against the Dean’s wrath.

Pluto worshipped the very ground you walked on and celebrated every breath you took. Everywhere you went, he was there, following you like a shadow. He hated everyone you talked with as they were not worthy of your smile and your kindness. He would make sure they’d disappear.

Berenice was not one to hide her affections, and god forbid a man would even look at you in the wrong way. But it was no use to try and get away: everytime you manifested your uncertainty, she would still smile, but her claws would dug deep into your arm as a warning.

Eulalie was strange, to say the least, but you gained quite a liking to her as she stuck around. To this day, you still have no idea of the horrors she has done to keep her for herself thanks to her seemingly harmless nature.

Dignity was a bizarre concept to Ada, as she would throw away every last shred of her own to satisfy you. For you, it was privacy you lacked: no matter how many times you tried to avoid her, she would pop up beside you like an unwanted weed.

Prospero may be cold, but he is also entitled. As your fiancé in your past life, he believes you belong to him. He doesn’t hesitate to punish you harshly if you fail the duties he assigns you to be what he calls a “good partner”.

Montresor was anything but a good man: selfish, greedy, cruel and a hypocrite. While he was busy sleeping around as he pleased, you were forbidden of showing even the slightest glimpse of your neck to one of these peasants. You were his and his alone.

Do not underestimate Will. Like Pluto, he is similar to a lost puppy, sticking by anyone who is stronger and will “guide” him. His instinct is to serve, even if his last act of service would be to die in your name.

You don’t remember when or how you died, or how long it has been. All that mathered is that you woke up in Merry and Mourn’s arms as their new little doll, a plaything to use until bore.

***

Have a good day/night!

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: When “Queer” Art Becomes Commonplace

Ariel Goldberg, The Estrangement Principle (image courtesy Nightboat Books)

Reading The Estrangement Principle feels like walking alongside author Ariel Goldberg as they attend art openings and performances, mull over volumes at bookstores and the classroom, ask questions to poets, writers, and theorists at readings and panel discussions, and flirt at dance parties. Each of these events was tagged “queer” by organizers, participants, and publishers. Goldberg, a poet and photographer, began “collecting the phrase ‘queer art’ in all its sweaty megaphone pronouncements” in 2010. In 2012, this collection inspired an essay, self-published as a pamphlet, which Goldberg distributed at events like the aforementioned. In it, Goldberg forewarned of the overuse of the word “queer” and the dangers of doing so.

2012 was the year I personally stopped using the word queer as a descriptor of my identity. The term reclaimed by LGTBQIA folk in the late ‘80s, at the height of the AIDS epidemic, rang out like an S.O.S call across the country, insisting on a radical platform that rejected the heteronormative agendas of the mainstream gay political movement. But by 2012, the term had reached the ears of marketing machines and retailers and it seemed like Urban Outfitters was trying to sell queerness back to me for a price heftier than an inflated sales tag. It seemed that everyone born after 1990s was dressing as if it was 1990 — a light-hearted regurgitation of fashion stripped of politics and the context of mass death.

Ariel Goldberg, “Rainbow Dreams” (2012), 17 x 22 inches, archival ink jet (image courtesy the artist)

In its worst manifestations, “queer” is used as a substitute for a politic, the veneer of activism without the action, only utterance. Goldberg’s choice to quantify the barrage of the word as applied to art rather than qualify the many permutations of the word itself was a wise one. The danger of overusing the word “queer,” Goldberg argues, is that it upends its very intention to resist definition, while depoliticizing it and placing incredibly limiting boundaries around the expansive space “queer” purports to be. For instance, there’s been an increasing use of “queer” as a kind of disclaimer for one’s positionality in the world. As a result, the category has been overgeneralized for a group of people with divergent, specific sexual practices and gender expressions. Goldberg, for example, writes from a “Jewish, white, lesbian, trans, middle-class, able-bodied, and united statian perspective.” Throughout the book, Goldberg, who is both a poet and visual artist, parses language, often with evocative and memorable word play. “Queer resembles an umbrella one buys that falls apart shortly after a rainstorm,” they write when considering canonic and contemporary works from the realm of visual art, poetry, fiction, and criticism.

Ariel Goldberg, Strand Bookstore “June is Gay Pride Month,” Cell Phone Photo Notes (June 2014) (image courtesy the artist)

In the book’s earliest chapters, Goldberg resurrects Berenice Abbott and Susan Sontag as examples from a previous generation who refused or did not disclaim their queerness. The shifting relationship to the coming-out story over time becomes an investigation of the queer self against the backdrop of a changing world. American poet laureate Kay Ryan’s self-censored lesbianism contrasts with current generations that actively market themselves as queer. Goldberg points out the intersection of identity politics and capitalism when artists are asked to professionalize and prioritize their public image as much as their actual work. Goldberg delves into the professionalization of the queer artist and the institutionalization of “queer art,” in programs such as the Queer Arts Mentorship, to suggest the ways in which positioning one’s identity at the forefront has become a sales tactic. Though not explicitly stated, this emphasis on the identity-as-marketing strategy has the potential to place the work beyond the reproach of critics belonging to a different identity group.

Ariel Goldberg, “Rainbow Drawing” (2014), 17 x 22 inches, archival ink jet (image courtesy the artist)

Just as interesting as attending to the proliferation of works and events tagged “queer,” Goldberg also takes note of “the palpable silences around events that could have used the word ‘queer’ as a descriptor, but didn’t,” usually when race or multiple subjectivities enter the mix alongside gender and sexuality. Goldberg’s collection of press releases, flyers, and postcards reveal who, when, and how one is tagged with “queer” — almost as metadata that structures where content circulates IRL and in the invisible cloud of capitalism.

Ariel Goldberg, “Missing Photo of Fran Lebowitz from Peter Hujar by Peter Hujar (1990),” Cell Phone Photo Notes, (June 2013) (image courtesy the artist)

Goldberg’s critique is multipronged and, as such, revels in an ambivalence that is refreshing for acknowledging how the questions at stake are complicated. Maintaining this ambivalence is a difficult feat that Goldberg does well. To come to a more direct point, would be, well, too phallic an approach. There are no easy answers as the stakes of visibility are intertwined with cooptation. I appreciate the way in which Goldberg lingers in the folds and dark corners of questions about the relationship between aesthetics and identity, rolling experiences and words around their mouth in a poet’s exploration of textures, tastes, and sensations of language as they attempt to get closer to the core of “queer.”

When Goldberg started this project more than seven years ago, they were “young(er) and hadn’t been in one place long enough to contribute to various communities built around shared interests and experiences. [They] could only have been completed to write this book at that acute moment of estrangement.” The eponymous “estrangement principle,” then, points to the etymology of queer as strange, but also stranger, and one step further to estrangement. Distance, in both its critical and alienating forms, is considered at length in the subtext of the book: How does one formulate and maintain a critical position while immersed in a community of makers, writers, and thinkers who are also friends? As the book surveys the territory where “queer” is staked, it ultimately constructs a portrait of a community of people at various stages of mobilizing. It’s here that I should tell you that I’m in the book, as are a number of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. I was in the audience with Goldberg during many events, though not literally by their side. They recount the conversation we had on the 25th Anniversary of a Day Without Art, for which I curated a project by fierce pussy and Alex Fiahlo led a group from the West Village to the Chelsea piers, stopping at the former homes of artists like Cookie Mueller. It was a joy to revisit the past seven years with Goldberg guiding me through my memories. For the reader not immersed in this community, the book constructs an archive of ephemeral conversations. One is privy to the inside of the “queer” art world as Goldberg centers this self-fashioned community and flips the terms of estrangement.

Ariel Goldberg, “Rainbow Slice” (2014), 17 x 22 inches, archival ink jet (image courtesy the artist)

Ariel Goldberg’s The Estrangement Principle is out from Nightboat Books. 

The post When “Queer” Art Becomes Commonplace appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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