#even more so for appreciating the paintings !! i love love renaissance art so much so I projected that into the fic a lot LMFOA | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrchiipchrome · 9 months ago

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The Museum

W.C. - 5.2 k

this is so the 'pookie looks absolutely fire' tiktok couple coded

thank you to the anon that requested this, much love to you:)

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The skittles made a crunching sound as your molars bit down on them, it was an every day snack for you, tasting the rainbow more often than not. It was a relatively new habit, but when your ex had broken up with you, you promised yourself to become a better person.

It obviously had to be you who had something wrong with them, otherwise she wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else and out of love with you. Quitting smoking was the first thing on your agenda, hence the skittles.

The next thing was to get away from the small southern town in Texas, move so far away that you left the country entirely. The only thing you’d taken with you on the plane was a carryon with 2 changes of clothes, your cowboy hat and a dream of bettering your life.

The third thing you bettered was your health, going out for a run every morning through the streets of London, going to the gym after work, doing push-ups before bed. It worked wonders, the tips you got from the ladies at the bar where you worked were simply incredible.

The fourth thing you wanted to improve was your cultural knowledge, the exact reason why you were standing in the middle of a museum, old renaissance paintings in every corner of the large room. It was something you appreciated, none of that modern bullshit where people just taped a banana to a canvas and called it art, it was back from when people actually painted.

Your hand slipped down your body into your jacket pocket, fetching another piece of candy, although a voice speaking up from your right startled you nearly enough for you to drop it back into the bag.

“You’re not supposed to eat in museums, you know?” The woman had a foreign dialect, just like you. You guessed it was from somewhere in the middle of Europe, maybe Germany or any of the neighboring countries.

“It’s not a problem if you don’t tell on me, no one has to know.” She seems just as startled by your accent as you were by her speaking to you, her cheeks dusted with a light pink at the wink you sent her.

“What are you going to do if I tell them? Take me back to your ranch on your horse?” The mystery woman teases, obviously making fun of the accent and the cowboy hat sitting perched on your head. In response you laugh under your breath, shaking your head in amusement.

“I’m afraid that I left the ranch back in Texas, Miss. All I have here is a small one bedroom apartment.” She looks up at you through the side of her eye, her half smile distracting you more than you’d like to admit. Her brows knit together when she notices a security guard eying the two of you curiously and her elbow digs into your ribs when you once again reach for the skittles in your pocket.

“Nice hat, my friend would be jealous.” You nod in agreement, plucking the stetson off your head and turning it around in your hand. In a brief moment of stupidity, you place the cowboy hat on the pretty stranger’s head, it falling down the front of her face to cover her eyes. It’s frankly adorable, the way she brings her hand up to push it back to the crown of her head.

The reassuring smile on her face tells you that she approves of your action, a relief to your entire being. She takes her phone out of her back pocket, turning it on and snapping a picture of you both, the cowboy hat still perched on top of her head.

In response, you snap a picture of her alone, the woman posing like a cowboy would for you. She was going to be the wallpaper of your phone for a while, even though you didn’t even know her name.

“So, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you mine?” The cheesy pickup line just slips out, not at all consciously, it was like instinct took over, a pretty girl was to be flirted with.

“I wouldn’t mind being called yours, but for now you can call me Lia.” The woman doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your advances, in fact she embraces them, teasing smile telling you that she found it amusing how worried you got over a simple pickup line.

“Lia, a beautiful name for an even more gorgeous girl.” She gains her pink tint back, the compliment likely the cause of her blush. It wasn’t like she never got complimented, it was just the attractive zing your accent put over the words that made them feel more sincere.

“And how about you? A name attached to that pretty face?” Now it was your turn to blush at the other woman’s words, her lips splitting into a full toothed smile.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You imitate Bond to introduce yourself, sticking your hand out for her to take, a firm handshake and the tip of an imaginary hat letting her know who exactly it is you are.

“Good to know my future last name.” She winks at you and the blush that’s already covering your face deepens significantly. The insinuation that you were to marry the girl beside you too much for your poor little heart to take.

She starts to walk away from you and towards another section of the room, looking back over her shoulder when she realizes that you weren’t right beside her, walking. Waving her hand in a “come here” motion, you quickly catch up with the older woman.

“So, why skittles? Is there not any other sweet you’d rather have?” She asks as you match her slow rhythm of steps, your hands shoved in the pockets of your coat with your arms forming loops. Lia threads one of her arms through yours, leaning her head on your shoulder, standing still all of a sudden to look at a painting. It didn’t feel like you’d just met, like you’d just introduced yourselves to one another, it felt like you’d known each other for decades, easily slipping into being comfortable with each other.

You gaze at her as she looks at the painting, making sure to map out all her gorgeous features and commit them to memory. She was like a breath of fresh air in a world of polluted oxygen.

“First of all it’s called candy, not sweets, candy. Secondly, they’re amazing for when you want to stop smoking.” Her cheek smushes against your shoulder as she turns her head to look up at you, her eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“You were a smoker?” You feel the strong urge to place a peck atop her lips, soft and warm against your own. But in the end you resist, you’d only just met the woman for god’s sake, you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes hold so many emotions that you just can’t read.

“Yeah, only for about a year. My ex stressed me out so much that I felt it was the easiest way to deal with it. But when she broke up with me, I decided to get my life back together, moved here, got a job at a bar and that’s it. That’s why I’m here.” Lia listens intensively at the story you’re telling her, the way she looks at you suggests that she’s hanging off your every last syllable.

“So no more smoking at all for you?” You puff your chest up, proudly displaying the grin on your face and your now discolored tongue. Lia looks on in amusement at your actions, a grin that could light up an opera house on her face.

“Nope, I’m never picking up a cigarette again.” The amusement turns into a sort of profound proud feeling, a feeling that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling for what is practically a stranger. A stranger that in the matter of a mere hour had worked their way into her heart and made themselves home.

“Good, I’m really happy for you.” The softened look on Lia’s face makes you blush, it was the way most people looked at their loved ones. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be one of her loved ones, how it would feel to see her first thing in the morning, to gaze into her tentative eyes and try to read her like a book just because you know exactly how it is she acts, how she feels at that exact moment, what she thinks.

At your faraway look Lia nudges you in the ribs, giggling at the embarrassed expression that occupies your face. Her giggle could only be described as a ray of sunlight, lighting the glum room up in seconds, giving it a golden glow.

The older woman doesn’t miss the fondness in your gaze as you watch her laugh, your own lips splitting into a smile and soon after a loud belly laugh bubbles up in your chest, welling out of your mouth like water out a dam.

Only moments later the both of you are doubled over in laughter, tears slipping down your cheeks and arms crossed over your stomachs. Some scattered guests give you two dirty looks, as if you were peasants in a house full of royals, but they are counter effective because it only makes you and Lia laugh harder.

The security guard from earlier approaches you both as you drop down to the floor with a loud thump, Lia bursting out into an entire new fit of laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I’ve already let you get away with a lot today but this is your last strike. Up you get, I’ll escort you and your lady companion to the exit.” He speaks through his thick mustache, his round beer gut bobbing up and down with every word like he needed every fat covered muscle of his stomach to get the words out.

Small giggles escape you both as Lia and you are led out of the building by a firm grip around both of your arms. You both watch in amusement as the fat man gets winded walking back up the stairs he just led you down, bending over for a brief second at the top before disappearing back behind the door.

“So, I take it you know the security guard then?” She sounds a little out of breath as she speaks to you, flyaways sticking out of her bun, your hand itches to reach up and smooth them out, undo her bun and run your fingers through her hair. But you don’t.

“Yeah, he’s my regular. Comes in every day and buys a pint after work, a good friend of mine he is. He lets me get away with eatin’ in there every time I come.” You stand right in front of the brunette, hands again in your pockets as you smile at her tentatively. Her hand comes up to rub at your arm, and you feel as though you were going to pass out at any moment, the electric feeling of her ring covered fingers touching your arm overwhelming in a good way.

“Ah, a museum nepo baby then.” You can tell that she’s joking by the way her eyebrows raise all the way up to her hairline, and you imitate her by doing the same thing. Another fit of giggles ensues, Lia looking directly into your eyes, holding eye contact for a prolonged amount of time.

It makes you nervous, her somewhat challenging gaze locking on your face for a moment longer than necessary. When she grasps your hands in hers you finally look back at her, meeting her tender gaze with your own.

“I really enjoyed today, I was hoping we could do it again sometime.” The older woman looks at you sheepishly, nearly nervously. You’re mesmerized by her gorgeous simplicity, simple smile grazing her lips as you nod, a recognisable warmth behind the hug she gives you, the quick kiss she places on your cheek haphazardly before walking away, not looking back to see your rose tinted cheeks.

It’s only when Lia has disappeared far behind the horizon that you realize that you have no way to contact her AND that she essentially got away with your favorite cowboy hat. You aren’t as distraught about your hat as you are about not getting her number, it was a dumbass move from you.

You drag your feet all the way back to your apartment, not knowing that only moments after you left the museum, the girl of your dreams ran back all the way to get your number. And like you, she dragged her feet all the way back to her apartment, sulking and questioning her own intelligence.

Arriving at the bar that evening was strange, you felt almost empty without the girl you’d met earlier that day, no light brown cowboy hat perched atop your head nor a beaming smile. It was weird to everyone around you, you always had that damned hat on, but now it was a completely different one, black with a few white accents.

“What happened to you? It looks like someone ran over your dog.” Your co-worker and best friend Marla asks, placing her hand on your shoulder softly as if you were to break if she did it any harder. Shaking your head, your other friend and co-bartender Jason comes up to rub your back softly, the comfort from both of your best friends loosening you up significantly and soon after you spill everything that had happened up to that point.

They were both smirking at you when you finished up the story, knowing that despite only just meeting the woman in the museum you were already in love.

“So do you have a picture of this goddess who’s making you drop to your knees?” Marla asks you, looking knowingly at your other best friend, who in return wiggles his eyebrows at her. You knew something would happen between them soon, and you’d rather be in hell than to watch it.

“Yeah, just give me a quick sec.” Pulling out your phone, you quickly unlock it and enter the photo app, not needing to scroll as the most recent photo was of her, Lia.

“Girl, are you fucking with me?” You look at the dark skinned girl in confusion, her eyes widening as she realizes that you had no fucking clue who it was you had met. She looks to her ‘boyfriend’ quickly in shock, who looks back at her equally appalled.

“Are you telling me you don’t recognise her?” The moment you shake your head is when the green eyed boy facepalms, not believing your stupidity. “Not at all? You haven’t seen her before.” When you once again shake your head the man sighs in disappointment, all faith in your intelligence practically gone.

“Girl. That is Lia Wälti, you know one of the best midfielders in the country? Arsenal Women’s player.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, not at all knowing that she was a footballer. All the times you’d gone over to Marla’s house to watch footy, she’d probably been injured.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even recognise her.” You lean against the door, sliding your body down until you’re sitting flush on the floor, head in your hands. Jason places his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly at you as he tries to reassure your overwhelmed mind.

“Hey, man, it was probably a good thing that you didn’t recognise her. She knows that you’re not some crazed fan trying to kill her, eh?” Marla’s hand plucks your cowboy hat from your head and runs her fingers through your hair, your shared shift started in mere minutes and yet they were there, comforting you.

“I’m okay, just a bit shell shocked.” They both laugh, pulling you up by your hands and bringing you into a group hug, patting your back before Marla gives you your hat back, smacking both you and Jason’s asses before disappearing out to her office.

“You know, we have an extra ticket to the Arsenal game on Sunday, so I mean if you want to see her again then you’re welcome to join.” You smile at the man’s kindness, telling him that you’ll definitely take him up on his offer. You didn’t have a shift at the bar either way that day so spending it looking for your … well you didn’t really know what it was she is to you. All you know is that you wanted to see her again.

Two days later you find yourself sitting as close to the pitch as you possibly can, waiting for the North London derby to start.

Lia is in the starting lineup, looking determined as she waits for the whistle signaling the start of the game to sound. The shrill noise cuts through the air and the game starts.

It’s physical right from the start, loads of pushing and shoving coming from both sides, red and white. There are a few times where you nearly jump to your feet as Lia gets pushed but the fact that your friends sat there right beside you made you choose not to.

At half time the score is the same as the beginning, nil-nil. Despite not knowing much about football you join in on analyzing the first half of the game, mentioning all the times Lia went down. Marla makes some ‘innocent’ comments about how you’d much rather have her ‘go down’ somewhere else. The blush that overtakes your face is enough for you to blend in with your jersey, the red of the Arsenal shirt the same shade as your face.

When the second half starts, you’re basically on your feet all the way through, cheering loudly when Alessia scores, meaning that the gunners were up one-nil.

It’s particularly hilarious when Lia finally notices you, a pause in the game meaning that she had the time to look around at the fully packed Emirates Stadium. When those eyes you love to gaze into meet yours for the first time since Friday, her face split open in a smile, a smile reaching all the way up to her eyes.

It looks like she has to physically restrain herself so that she doesn’t run over to you, her body shaking slightly as she calmly inches her way towards you, the cheers of the fans around you becoming louder as the player comes closer. Lia tunes them all out though as she looks at you, the only thing cutting through her trance being the whistle signaling the freekick being awarded.

Lia looks back towards you as she walks in the direction of the group of players and you wink at her, even though she’s far away it seems like she saw it, the deep tint of red dusting her face definitely more than exertion from the game.

When the three loud whistles sound throughout the arena, it explodes in cheers as Arsenal manage to keep their one-nil lead and in doing so make London red again. But you don’t even acknowledge the win when there’s a speeding Lia Wälti heading straight in your direction.

She only starts to slow down as she reaches the barrier which separates the fans from the pitch and players, with you standing up behind it to watch her come closer and closer with every quick step she takes.

Lia throws her arms around your torso when she comes close enough, the way that she had been longing for your touch had been driving her crazy in the days since you first met. She also knew that it wasn’t smart to do it all out in the open, fans and professionals alike were probably going to know everything about you within a few days. You didn’t seem to mind though, content with having her in your arms again.

Pulling away from her, you quickly take her face in your hands, looking her over to see if her face was scratched up from all the times she’d met the ground in the game.

“Shit, darling, I think you spent more time on the ground in this game than on your feet. You ought to be more careful.” Your southern drawl is especially thick when you speak to her, the worry you’d experienced the entire game bubbling to the surface.

“I’m perfectly fine, I think you’re forgetting that I do this for a living.” She smiles at you reassuringly and you calm down fully, her hand placed on your arm a sure factor of it. Lia’s head turns to your side, looking directly at your friends who both send her starstruck looks.

“Hi, I’m Lia.” The footballer smiles in their direction and they both remain in their seats, completely unmoving. She looks back to you concerned and in response you just laugh, they were apparently not expecting her to actually greet them. “Are they okay?”

“I think they’re just a bit starstruck.” Gesturing towards their gaping mouths, Marla quickly slaps your hand away from her face, biting at the air to show you that she wasn’t afraid to bite.

“Oh okay, well do you think they want anything signed? I can ask the team, or maybe if you want we can go meet them?” Lia sounds unsure of herself, apparently doubting that her first impression on your friends was good.

“I think that they’d love that sweetheart. But judging from all the looks we’re getting from that same team, I do think they want you back.” You glance towards the women gathered in a clung in the middle of the pitch, all of them staring at you and Lia interacting. She sighs at their slightly invasive culture, but alas there wasn’t anything that she could do about it. When you smile and wave at them, you’re thoroughly amused when every single one of them repeats your actions back to you, some in confusion and some in amusement.

“A guard is going to tell you to follow him, just do as he says and we’ll meet again soon.” By that point the stadium was almost empty, everyone wanting to go home and brag about their team’s win over the archrival. So as Lia walks away from you, you’re totally free to stare at her ass, only stopping when Marla slaps your arm harshly.

“Did that just happen?” Jason asks shakily, running his hand down his face in embarrassment.

“You’re damn right it did.” You laugh at their stupid expressions, their embarrassment clear on their faces. “Well look on the bright side, y’all are going to meet the team.” With that their embarrassment turned into excitement, meeting their favourite athletes quickly turning their mood around.

“Y/n Y/l/n? Come with me and take your friends with you.” Walking around the labyrinth of slinging hallways and narrow paths, you appear in front of the locker room in no time, the loud music escaping the door a clear indicator of the Gunners good match.

“Now just wait out here until they come out, they’ll probably be out in a few.” The guard tells you unbothered, not caring at all that he’s leaving people he doesn’t know outside of the locker room.

“Yes sir.” You speak up clearly, mock saluting him as he disappears down the hallway with a sigh.

“I can’t believe that you’re 28, you act like a 12 year old.” Marla tells you jokingly, leading to you pushing her away from you. In the span of a few seconds both you and Marla find yourselves on the floor, engaging in a wrestling match. It only gets broken up when the sound of the door opening echoes through the hallway, both you and your best friend quickly getting on your feet.

“Nah what’s going on here?” A very amused Irish accented voice escapes the player exiting the locker room, one Katie McCabe staring at you and Marla.

“It was her fault.” You point at Marla so as to gesture that it was her who started it, the woman vehemently denying it.

“So I’m guessing you’re Lia’s cowboy then?” Katie completely ignores the blame game currently going on in front of her as she talks to you. Blushing at being called Lia’s, you quickly start to stutter out an answer.

“I- uhm yeah, I think so?” Laughter coming from behind the Irish woman makes you glance in the direction of the sound. Seeing Leah Williamson of all people is not what you expect, a bit starstruck yourself.

“Of course it’s the cowboy you buffoon, who else would wear a cowboy hat in London? You have to tell me where you bought the one Lia brought home, I need a new one. Mylie-moo chewed mine to filth a couple days ago.” Leah throws her arm around your shoulder as if you’d known each other for years, the woman clearly having heard a thing or two about you.

“Oh well I’ll be sure to bring you one next time I go back to Texas, my buddy Carl, he’s 72 and he makes the most gorgeous hats you can imagine. Last time I visited him I made him an instagram page, I’ll send you the link if you want?” You speak enthusiastically with the England captain, her arm still resting around your shoulders casually. Both Marla and Jason are in a conversation with Katie and Lotte, who just got out of the locker room.

“Important question, so answer me truthfully now, do you like country music?” She looks at you skeptically, trying to deduce if you’re being truthful or not. The question itself makes you roll your eyes playfully, but alas it didn’t surprise you. It was widely known that Leah was quite the country fan.

“Ma’am I grew up in Texas, yeah I’m a country fan. I’d be disowned if I wasn’t.” Leah looks at you like you’re her hero, it was clear to you that she accepted you. The hinges of the door squeak as a few other players exit, namely Lia.

“Lia please let me steal her, she’s perfect.” Leah says jokingly, holding onto your arm softly like she was a little kid. Lia looks at her weirdly, but quickly catches on to the joke, walking over to the two of you.

“I know, that’s why I want to keep her.” Lia wraps her arms around your waist tightly, her newly washed hair curling up into adorable curls, head placed on your shoulder.

“Sharing is caring.” Leah is on the verge of laughter as she talks, the statement a shocking one for sure. It was hilarious though so you also had to keep from laughing.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind-” Lia shoots you a mean glare at your half serious words, and even though it was like being glared at by an adorable kitten, Lia already had you wrapped around her finger. “Actually I’m taken so I don’t think that would work.”

All it takes for you all to break character is a shouted ‘WHIPPED’ coming from one of the players watching the interaction like it was a soap opera, the three of you laughing like it was the last thing you’d do.

“Alright, anyone want a drink? Not to brag but I can make a mean cocktail.” The women all cheer as you ask them, everyone rushing out to get into their cars and get to the bar. Just as you’re about to follow them, someone takes hold of your collar, making it so that you can’t go.

Lia looks back when you don’t follow her but you just wave her off, telling her to go on without you. Turning back, you’re met with all the ‘scariest’ Arsenal players, looking like they’re about to beat you up.

“Listen carefully now, because this will only be said once, if you hurt a hair on her head, do anything to hurt her emotionally, if you do anything wrong that makes her sad, we will not hesitate to take your knees.” It’s Katie that speaks, all the others just nodding intimidatingly, glaring at you.

“I’m going to try my best to make her happy, I know that she deserves the world.” They let up the facade of intimidation at your words, patting your back and pushing you in the direction of the car park. The conversation as you all are walking out of the building is pleasant, when you arrive at the parking lot there are just a couple of cars left.

Both of your best friends had left you to carpool with one of the remaining players, Lia called dibs though the second she looked at you, so it was with her you went.

“They weren’t too scary with you right? I know how they can be.” Lia says over the soft music being played from the radio, some Tyler, the Creator song. You look at her face, she was in deep thought and absolutely adorable.

“Nah, it’s like being threatened by a pair of teddy bears. Let’s just say that I’ve had worse shovel talks.” She giggles as you start to tell her about all the weird shovel talks you’d gotten back in Texas, everything from being threatened with Chinese water torture to being hung upside down from a tree for simply speaking to a girl that wasn’t her.

When the bar comes into sight you see that multiple people have parked their cars right in front of it, telling Lia to just park on the curb.

“Y’all are such dickheads.” You laugh, slapping both Marla and Jason’s heads hard, they left you stranded.

“Well you’ve got a girlfriend now who can drive your broke ass.” Marla shoots back, rubbing her head in pain. You roll your eyes at her dramatic actions, the slap wasn’t that hard.

“One-nil to me then, at least I have someone.” The sibling like banter was normal between you two by now, she was your best friend after all.

“C’mon cowboy, let’s sit down for a little.” Lia’s hand rests on your stomach as you both sit down on the booth, the place to sit being suspiciously small, to the point in which Lia had to throw her legs over your lap to get enough space.

It was nice to sit and talk with the team, they were regular people just like anyone else and it made you glad to see them just relax after a match. The atmosphere was calm, so calm in fact that Lia managed to fall asleep on your shoulder, quiet snores escaping her mouth.

Only moments later you fall asleep too, after having fought sleep for as long as possible. Your head rests on top of Lia’s and the girls think it’s absolutely adorable, some of them taking pictures of you both to send to their group chat.

“I knew being friends with her would pay off.” Jason jokes, thinking naïvely that you were fully asleep, getting a few laughs from the girls in the room. They get startled though as you utter a quick;

“Hey!” In protest, everyone soon laughed at your dramatic reaction to his joke.

Who knew that going to the museum would result in you getting a date?

#woso #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #lia walti #lia walti x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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mikareo · 1 year ago

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⌗ RENAISSANCE ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (2.1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ he's never been one to appreciate art, but you've given him a new set of eyes— the love he feels for you is overwhelming, and he hopes it lasts forever. (bonus for rationalism and romanticism; necessary to read first!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, swearing, immense fluff, kissing, sae and rin actually have a good relationship, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness author's note; bonus ending for rationalism/romanticism!

This is a fancy-ass venue.

Rin can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Rin can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it.

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster.

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Rin is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are.

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching.

“She’s talented isn’t she?”

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Rin, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when Sae walks up with his teeth beaming. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Itoshi family; famous in not only football, but good looks!

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Itoshi has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Rin doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his teammates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Rin sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Itoshi’s eyes and Rin can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Sae gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Rin knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Rin.”

Sae smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Sae since he was nothing but a young boy, six years old and playing soccer for the very first time. Rin finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his older brother, who was his rival for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first goal and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Rin believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Sae pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs.

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Itoshi nudges Rin on, standing beside Sae. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room.

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking.

Never in Rin’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his teammates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Rin looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Rin believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Rin feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Rin’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You're everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Rin raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his brother, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his teammates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Rin can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Rin. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

this is the end of this series! every part was such a joy to write and i'm so thankful for all of the feedback i've been given. more fics coming soon love y'all <3

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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captainofthedauntless · 2 years ago

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S/O's Hobbies HCs

This wasn't requested, but I wrote down the first little idea and then it snowballed wildly out of my control. Have some Bay Boys and how they engage with their partner's hobbies.

Like their namesakes suggest, these are Renaissance men, okay? They do a bit of everything (partially because they've always had a lot of time to fill), and they absolutely want to learn about whatever you do.

Donnie is naturally curious across the board. He wants to know a bit about everything all the time- and you happen to be his favorite subject to study! Even if your hobbies aren't his thing, he absolutely wants to learn about them.

He also loves to apply his own knowledge to them! If he knows something about it that you might not, he loves to offer it up- exchange of knowledge is this guy's love language. He's careful not to sound condescending, he's just excited!

If you're into woodwork, he's over the moon- he hates doing it himself. He'd much rather weld for three days straight than have to work with wood for any significant period of time. However, he does love dropping tree facts on you ("You know, this tree is actually considered invasive in parts of Europe.").

If you're into anything with a chemistry element, like cooking or baking (or makeup or traditional art), he's all about it. He views it all from a very chemistry-heavy angle, so he adores hearing and seeing your thought process and perspective. He knows how the ingredients you're using (or were used in your supplies) work together to create the end product, but he loves to learn about how you use them.

If you're any kind of performer, he loves seeing you practice! Please show him videos of your performances, he'll love every single second. He is your biggest cheerleader. He'll notice little details in your work ("I love how you said that line! Quick and angry but still speaking so clearly- that's so impressive, love." or "Oh!! That spin! Look at you go!" or "That note was perfect, sweetheart- I could listen to this all day.") and will absolutely study up on your art of choice so that he can better appreciate what you do!

Same with sports! He loves to watch any clips you have, even if they're from your friend's shitty eight year old camera that has about 12 pixels to offer. Don would absolutely do drills with you if you asked- pitch a ball, guard a goal, swing a bat, whatever. He likes trading warm up and cool down routines, too!

You're into mechanics? Machinery? He's so excited to compare notes. You love driving- or even better, being driven? Dates on the road. All the time.

If you write, he would love to read anything you'll give him! If you write nonfiction, he loves to see your thoughts and findings and keeps a little notepad of questions and observations to talk to you about. If you're a fiction person, he loves to find your voice in the descriptions and characters! He gets absorbed in the story- right up until he sees a phrase you use a lot around him, and he has to take a second to be all smiley because he loves you before he keeps reading. Poetry? He somehow admires you even more than he already did. Will absolutely ask you if he can print a copy of one of your poems to keep by his computers- it doesn't take long at all before he could recite your work from memory.

Please tell him all about your creative choices, no matter what your hobby is. Painting? Tell him why you chose those colors, that angle, that medium. Dance? Talk about why you chose that song and did that wave with your arm. Music? Explain why you switched up the notes in that cover you did, or why you chose the chords you did in that song you wrote. Writing? He wants to hear about every single scrapped concept.

If you have a performance or a game or a display of any kind, he's absolutely either sneaking his way to watch- even if it's through a window or skylight- or hacking into whatever camera he can.

If you give him something you've made- be it a painting, something you wrote, a sculpture, a bowl, a stuffed animal, whatever- it's going where he'll see it every single day. It's his prized possession. It makes him smile even when he feels like shit.

Leo's a big believer in the value of mindful hobbies. He uses his to relax (something that does not come naturally to him, especially these days), but also to keep his mind as sharp as his swords.

He's an even big believer in the value of you. He loves sharing his life with you, and cherishes any time you share yours with him- including your hobbies!

This acts of service bitch will do anything he can to help you out with your hobbies. If you're an artist with traditional mediums or makeup, he's offering to wash your brushes. If you paint on wood or canvas, he's happy to prep them for you. If you work with watercolor, he's emptying and refilling your paint water as often as you want. You're building something and need supplies or equipment held or moved? You mean, an excuse to show off help his partner? He's in heaven.

Any gear or equipment you use that needs to be cleaned, he's there and ready to help. However, he's careful to only help with permission- the boys all have a lot of respect for people's possessions and space. There weren't many ways to separate their things growing up, and even fewer things to separate, so (with some siblings-gonna-sib exceptions) they're all very, very good about not touching your shit. Leo specifically makes the comparison to his katana- if someone cleaned them without his permission, he'd be royally pissed. He's not about to do that to you. Just know that all you have to do is ask, and it's as good as done! (And it's done well, too. He'll pay intense attention to your instructions and follow them to the letter, taking his time and moving very carefully.)

He's a bit intense in general, actually. When you're showing him your work or your process, you have his entire focus. Nothing else matters. It's sweet, but it probably makes you trip over a few words while you're explaining.

He puts the constructive in constructive criticism. Critique is the key to improvement in his opinion, so he's definitely offering his thoughts unless you specifically ask him not to. A big part of Leonardo's life is wanting to be the best he can possibly be, and he does everything he can to help his loved ones do the same, including you! You whip up a meal? "This is delicious, baby. I think a little char would make it legitimately perfect." You're practicing choreography? "Looking good! Swing that leg just a little higher!" Writing? He's the perfect beta reader, if you really want to catch errors. He has a flawless eye for misplaced commas.

He loves anything to do with words, so if you're a writer, songwriter, poet, actor, whatever? He's delighted. He soaks up your work like a tree soaks up sunshine. Words have power, and you have power, and putting the two together means he's in awe. Will read and reread your work as many times as he can if you write. If you're a speaker- actor, spoken poet, whatever- he's front and center for every practice session you let him witness. Will take notes on his favorite moments and shower you in praise after.

He also loves music. Loves it. You play an instrument? The moment you're willing to share, he LIVES to hear you play. You sing? He's pretty sure he's actually falling more in love, and he didn't know that was possible. You're an avid listener? Please, please, please share your favorite tracks and albums and artists with him. Please have him over to your place- away from the noise of Don's work and Raph's weights and Mikey's Mikeying- and put on your favorite record and cuddle up to listen. Listening dates are one of his favorites- one of his favorite activities with one of his favorite people? Bliss. Add in some snacks and he's pretty sure it's what perfection feels like. (If you really, really want to make him happy? Listen to his music with him, too. Talk about it with him after. Tell him which songs you loved and how you noticed the beat in Song A matched the beat in Song B, and they felt like they belonged together.)

If you're an athlete, he's all about learning everything there is to know about your sport and your personal routine. He's a big fan of learning from as many different disciplines as possible, so he loves to hear about all of the little details. What stretches you do, what exercises you rely on, how you practice- all of it! He'll incorporate parts of it into his own routines if he sees benefits for his own body and abilities.

Honor Boy will also sneak his way into whatever events you have, be it a gallery or a performance or a competition. If there's a shadowy spot to hide, he's there! If not, he's finding a secluded window. Failing that, he's not above asking Don for help with cameras. (It will be on the down low, though. He doesn't need Raph and Mikey making fun of him for the next six years for being too impatient to wait for the photos and video you'll share later.)

Give him something you've made? It's getting put in the safest spot he can possibly come up with, and he looks at it every morning. It becomes a part of his routine- brush teeth, stretch, look at wonderful gift from wonderful partner and think about how lucky he is. It's instant stress relief. You cared enough about him to make something, you trusted him enough to give him the result of your time and energy. He loves it and he loves you and he loves having another reminder of you in his space.

Mikey has the strangest, most eclectic bunch of information tucked away in his mind. He goes on YouTube journeys bouncing from one suggested video to another and has learned a little bit about all sorts of obscure topics, so there's a decent chance he'll surprise you with prior knowledge of your interests! Into history? He saw this crazy video about agriculture in India in the 1500s- he should totally pull it up for you! You're a welder? He's picked up some of the basics by hanging around Donnie, just enough to know how damn impressive your work is, and follow along with what you're saying. He knows an almost unsettling amount about the arts in general, too.

Dance, cooking, baking, music, painting, drawing, sculpting- hell, origami? He's done a little bit of all of it, and would love to learn all about your methods. He wants to see (or hear!) everything you create. He eats that shit up.

He's the loudest, happiest, most extra cheerleader you could ever possibly hope for. He will offer critique if you ask, but it's always always sandwiched by compliments- not because he wants to soften the critique, but because he genuinely thinks you're the shit. You're the next great master, his name be damned. Anything you do has notes of you in it, and he adores you more than he will ever be able to put into words (not for lack of trying), so obviously he adores your work.

You're a performer? He's the best audience ever, baby! He's fully focused on you, cheering as much as you can tolerate, straight up whooping when you do something particularly impressive. "Lookin' good, baby cakes!" and "Go off, cutiepie!" and "You're the next Shakespeare, sweets."

You make something? He's in awe. He's admiring every little aspect of it. Every stitch, stroke, flavor, whatever.

You make him something? He's is literally protecting it with his life. Anyone even looks at it wrong and he's ready to get rude. (Now, nobody's safe from him making them look at it. He shows it off every chance he gets. You're very lucky you make Mikey so happy, because otherwise Raph might start to dislike you a little for how often he has to look at it. Raph does make comments, though. "No more gifts until the holidays. I can't take any more show'n'tell sessions from this nitwit." Subtext? Mikey loves it, you make him happy, good job.)

Please let Mikey join in your hobbies. Out of all four, he's by far the most excited to get hands-on. Teach him to make your favorite recipes, teach him choreography, challenge him to matches in your sport of choice. Have painting dates. Trade mediums with him and teach him what you know- and let him teach you his! Have him help you build a table! Have jam sessions with your respective instruments! Whatever you're into, try and find a way to include him. He's gonna love you forever anyway, but that will really be the cherry on top.

Like Leo, he loves a listening date, so if you're into music please share it with him! His are much noisier, though. It's damn near a karaoke night, and he's probably dancing around like a dumbass and asking you to join him. (Please join him.)

You're performing, competing, showing off your work? He is there. He actually does not give a shit what Leo says about it, either. You'll see him, too. He'll be sure of it. He's sneaky and subtle and will be hidden from your audience, but you'll know he's there to support you, even if he has to text you a selfie from his hiding spot with a fuckton of emojis and words of encouragement.

You say you're "just" anything, and this guy is ready to go off. "Just" a beginner? Bitch, please. That's how everyone starts- and look what you're doing already! "Just" an extra? That's where movies get their depth! That's how plays feel alive! Extras give the story dimension, baby! "Just" backup vocals? First of all, you're upstaging the lead by miles in his book. Secondly, without you, none of that sweet harmonizing would be there! He's relentless and will convince you of your own amazingness or die trying.

Raph's quality time ass is a SUCKER for learning about your hobbies. He wants to hear you talk about them for hours. He wants you to sit in his lap and show him something you made and explain every little detail. He wants to watch you practice.

He's pretty private about his hobbies beyond martial arts and lifting, so he sees you sharing yours as trusting him with part of you. It means more to him than he's ever going to say unless you express a similar opinion- he feels too corny trying to articulate it himself. He's worried you wouldn't see it as being that deep, and he'd sound cheesy. But if you say it, he's agreeing wholeheartedly.

If you really want to make him feel loved, tell him about what goes into whatever you do. What inspires you? What does it make you feel? Why do you do it? Why that specifically? How'd you start? All the fine print details that make the hobby personal to you- share them with him. He wants to know, and he knows how personal his hobbies are to him, so you sharing that information makes him feel extremely special. He loves to connect with you like that. It's doubly important if you create from emotion- Big Red has big ass emotions and channels a lot of them into things he does, so if you do the same, he feels like you're got that much more in common. Like you get him even more than he thought.

He's the most subtle and relaxed about your hobbies outwardly, but never to the point of looking disinterested. You know him well enough to know exactly what that look in his eyes means- he's invested as hell and is downright studying whatever you're doing. He reads up on your hobbies on his own time, because he doesn't want to make a fool of himself by not knowing something "obvious", and tries to subtly slip that knowledge into his questions and comments. ("Why'd you go for the ladder stitch, babe?"). It's sweet- especially because he soaks up any information you give him like a damn sponge. He remembers more than you remember even telling him.

If you're into something he has some history with- mechanics, woodwork, knitting, athletics- he's constantly absorbing your methods. If you're observant, you'll start to notice little details done the same way you'd do them. Some of it is a conscious recognition of your knowledge and competency, and some of it is his subconscious absorption of you into every possible aspect of his life. Your metaphorical fingerprints are on everything.

If you're an athlete, he wants to work out together. He'll incorporate exercises that you do into his routines just so you can do them together. He loves it- not just because you're hot, or because it's when he feels the most attractive, but because he loves what you can do. He loves seeing your body at work. There's a level of attraction there, obviously, because he finds you exceptionally hot (even if you don't feel that way about yourself!), but a lot of it is very innocent love for what your body allows you to do. He loves movement, loves working out, loves being physical, and getting to share that with you is very special to him.

Your number one supporter. I don't care what you do. He may not get it, but he'll be damned if you doubt that he loves it, loves that you do it, and supports you with every ounce of his being. Anything he can do to help you do what you love, he's doing.

He loves to hang out while you do your thing. He just likes being in your space.

And, yeah, he's gonna be there for any exhibit, competition, performance, whatever. Consequences be damned, he's going. He'll only tell you beforehand if he thinks it would help you to know, though, and he probably doubts it. If you don't tell him straight up that you wish he could be there, he probably assumes it wouldn't help. He'll tell you after, though, pulling you in with his hands on your hips and "You were amazing out there, y'know that? I'm proud of you." and squeezing you gently.

If you make him something, he's going to try and play it cool, but he's like, massively impacted by it. Externally, he's "Thanks, baby," and slipping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. The only indication that he's a gooey mess on the inside is the way he holds what you made (like it's made of glass, of diamonds, like it's his actual heart in his hands and one wrong move would have devastating consequences) and the way his eyes don't drift from it for long (studying it, eyes all soft and fond and in awe, a lot like how he looks at you).

He'll rearrange everything he owns to give it a place of honor. It's treated with care and respect, and he stares at it at night and when he's having a rough time and it takes the edge off. It's like micro-dosing on you, on the love and joy you bring to his life, and it makes everything significantly less shitty.

#*writing #*headcanons #raphael #raphael x reader #donatello #donatello x reader #leonardo #leonardo x reader #michelangelo #michelangelo x reader #bayverse x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #2014 #imagines #x reader

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camisoledadparis · 29 days ago

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … November 3

1500 – Benvenuto Cellini (d.1571), sculptor, goldsmith, memoirist, and flamboyant pederast, is one of the greatest artists in the history of Western art. He was the last of the great Renaissance artists, for the free exploration and celebration of the sensual (particularly the homoeroticism) that inspired his genius and was a hallmark of Renaissance Florentine culture were soon aborted.

Benvenuto Cellini was born in Florence at the peak of the Italian Renaissance. Apprenticed to a goldsmith, he excelled in that art. In fact, he was so successful that he was called upon to fulfill major commissions throughout Italy and France. Indeed, he traveled so much that until he was forty-five years old, he never lived longer than five years in any one place. The reasons for his sometimes abrupt departures ranged from political upheavals and plague to outbursts of temperament, including murder.

At nineteen, Cellini went to Rome, where over the years he worked for Popes Clement VII and Paul III. In 1536, he traveled to France, where he sculpted decorations for the palace at Fontainebleau. In 1545, Cellini returned to Florence, where he lived the rest of his life.

Florence was notorious in the Renaissance as "Sodom City": in German slang, "Florenzer" meant "sodomite." In the late fifteenth century, one in two Florentine men had come to the attention of the authorities on suspicion of sodomy by the time they were thirty. In 1432, the "Office of the Night" was created to eliminate sodomy, but after seventy years it was disbanded as the task was deemed hopeless. About ninety percent of the cases reported involved boys under the age of eighteen. Sexual activity between men and boys was an integral feature of Florentine culture in the sixteenth century.

Cellini himself was convicted of homosexual sodomy with a boy named Domenico in Florence in 1523 and fined 12 bags of flour. He was prosecuted but absolved of charges of heterosexual sodomy in France. In Florence, Cellini was supported by his appreciative patron Duke Cosimo I de'Medici. Cosimo's first commission was for a large bronze Perseus holding Medusa's severed head. This magnificent nude figure in the Piazza della Signoria is a gay icon for its depiction of a beautiful young man.

Perseus

Cellini's subsequent works, including the marble statues of Ganymede and the Eagle, Narcissus, and Apollo and Hyacinth are particularly appealing to men who love boys. In Ganymede and the Eagle, the young Trojan boy lovingly ruffles the neck feathers of his seducer, while in Apollo and Hyacinth, the mature Apollo ruffles the tousled curls of an expectantly receptive Hyacinth, on his knees at the god's feet.

The homoerotic spirit that nourished Cellini's art was soon to be crushed in Florence. In response to the Protestant Reformation, the Roman Catholic Church at the Council of Trent (1545-1563) adopted policies designed to make the Church even more austere than the Protestants. It also embarked on a campaign to crush heresy. It established the Index of Prohibited Books and it proscribed carnality in art. In 1559, Pope Paul IV ordered draperies painted on the nudes in Michelangelo's Last Judgment. The Council's decrees were enthusiastically enforced through the sadistic power of the Inquisition.

In this context, in 1557, when his apprentice Fernando di Giovanni di Montepulciano accused Cellini of having sodomised him many times, the penalty was a hefty fifty golden scudi fine, and four years of prison, remitted to four years of house arrest thanks to the intercession of Duke Cosimo.

During his years of house arrest, Cellini attempted to rehabilitate his reputation. Not only did he devote himself to religious art (including a deeply religious marble crucifix), but he also took minor holy orders and fathered a son in 1560 by his servant Piera, whom he married in 1563.

Most importantly, however, during his period of house arrest, Cellini began his celebrated Vita. In this autobiography, the artist recounts his acquaintanceships with princes and popes and his great achievements as sculptor and goldsmith, while disavowing, with wounded innocence, his reputation as a pederast. He implies that he is a ladies' man, but cannot resist bragging that once he took his apprentice Diego in drag to a party of artists and their whores. The boy was voted the most beautiful prostitute in Florence, which nearly caused a riot when one of the girls groped Diego and discovered the truth of his sex.

Although the Vita attempts to present an appearance of orthodox morality and fails to mention Cellini's gay affairs or his convictions for sodomy, it nevertheless repays interest for its homosexual content. Especially significant in this context is Chapter 71 of Book Two, which may be read as a defense of sodomy, that "noble practice" indulged in by "the greatest emperors and the greatest kings of the world." Cellini says that he lacks the knowledge or means to meddle in the "noble practice," but he nevertheless commends it as "a marvelous matter." Whether these passages can be taken seriously or in jest is a matter of debate; certainly the context in which he was writing—under house arrest for having had sex with a young man—is an important consideration in interpreting the autobiography.

1846 – (Francis Davis) Frank Millet was an American painter, sculptor, and writer who died in the sinking of the RMS Titanic on April 15, 1912.

Francis Davis Millet was born in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts. At age sixteen, Millet entered the Massachusetts regiment, first as a drummer boy and then a surgical assistant (helping his father, a surgeon) in the American Civil War. He repeatedly pointed to his experience working for his father as giving him an appreciation for the vivid blood red that he repeatedly used in his early paintings. He graduated from Harvard with a Master of Arts degree. He worked as a reporter and editor for the Boston Courier and then as a correspondent for the Advertiser at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition.

Millet had a studio in Rome in the early 1870s, and Venice in the mid-1870s, where he lived with Charles Warren Stoddard, a well-known American travel journalist who, evidence indicates, had an active sexual interest in men. Historian Jonathan Ned Katz presents letters from Millet to Stoddard that suggest they had a romantic and intimate affair while living a bohemian life together.

A well-regarded American Academic Classicist, Millet was close friends with Augustus Saint-Gaudens and Mark Twain, both of whom were present at his 1879 marriage to Elizabeth Merrill in Paris, France; Twain was his best man. He was also well acquainted with the impressionist artist John Singer Sargent, who often used Millet's daughter Kate as a model, as well as the esteemed Huxley family.

Millet became a member of the Society of American Artists in 1880, and in 1885 was elected as a member of the National Academy of Design, New York and as Vice-Chairman of the Fine Arts Committee. He was made a trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and sat on the advisory committee of the National Gallery of Art. He was decorations director for the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893, where he is credited with having invented the first form of spray paint. His career included work with a number of worlds' fairs, including Vienna, Chicago, Paris, and Tokyo, where he made contributions as a juror, administrator, mural painter/decorator, or adviser.

Millet lived with Archibald Butt, who called him "my artist friend who lives with me", in a large mansion at 2000 G Street NW. They were known for throwing spartan but large parties that were attended by members of Congress, justices of the Supreme Court, and President Taft himself. There is some speculation that Butt and Millet were lovers.

Historian Richard Davenport-Hines wrote in 2012: "The enduring partnership of Butt and Millet was an early case of "Don't ask, don't tell". Washington insiders tried not to focus to closely on the men's relationship, but they recognized their mutual affection, and they were together in death as in life."

On April 10, 1912, Millet boarded the RMS Titanic at Cherbourg, France, bound for New York City. He was traveling with long-time friend Archibald Butt. He was last seen helping women and children into lifeboats. His body was recovered after the sinking by the cable boat Mackay-Bennett and returned to East Bridgewater, Massachusetts, where he was buried in Central Cemetery.

In 1913, the Butt-Millet Memorial Fountain was erected in Washington, D.C., in memory of Millet and his long-time friend and lover Archibald Butt, with whom he shared a home, and who also died on the Titanic.

1871 – Hanns Heinz Ewers (d.1943) was a German writer famous for his short stories and novels that expanded the parameters of the horror genre. He began his literary career as a poet when he published "A Book of Fables", satirical verses, in 1901. In addition to writing, he was an actor and created a vaudeville theater the same year he made his literary debut. He also founded another acting company that toured Central and Eastern Europe, but he abandoned the theater due to censorship.

It was his stories about the occult and horror that made his name. His first novel "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" was published in 1910 and his masterpiece, "Alarune", in 1911. The two novels were part of a trilogy based on the autobiographical character of Frank Braun, who also appears in the 1921 novel "Vampyr".

Ewers was deeply attracted to the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche, and the Nietzschean philosophy of the "intellectuals" of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, as well as their nationalism (to say nothing of their mysticism) attracted him to the Nazi Party, though he never joined it. He did not agree with the party's anti-Semitism and this plus his homosexual tendencies soon ended his popularity with the party management.Though he wrote a novel based on the life of Nazi martyr Horst Wessel, allegedly at the bequest of Adolf Hitler, his works were banned by the Nazis in 1934.

A penniless Hanns Heinz Ewers died from tuberculosis on June 12, 1943 in Berlin. He was 72 years old.

1939 – Terrence McNally (d.2020) was an American playwright who has received four Tony Awards, an Emmy, two Guggenheim Fellowships, a Rockefeller Grant, the Lucille Lortel Award, the Hull-Warriner Award, and a citation from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.

After graduation, McNally moved to Mexico to focus on his writing, completing a one-act play which he submitted to the Actors Studio in New York for production. While the play was turned down by the acting school, the Studio was impressed with the script, and McNally was invited to serve as the Studio's stage manager so that he could gain practical knowledge of theater. In his early years in New York, he was a protégé and lover of the noted playwright Edward Albee.

Although several early comedies such as Next in 1969 and 1975's The Ritz, set in a gay bathhouse, won McNally critical praise, it was not until later in his career that he would become truly successful with works such as his Off-Broadway play Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune and its screen adaptation with stars Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer.

In 1990, McNally won an Emmy Award for Best Writing in a Miniseries or Special for Andre's Mother, a drama about a woman trying to cope with her son's death from AIDS. A year later, he returned to the stage with another AIDS-related play, Lips Together, Teeth Apart, a study of the irrational fears many people harbor towards homosexuals and people who have AIDS.

With Kiss of the Spider Woman (based on the novel by Manuel Puig) in 1992, McNally returned to the musical stage, collaborating on a script which explores the complex relationship between two men caged together in a Latin American prison.

Another of McNally's other plays is 1994's Love! Valour! Compassion!, with Lane and John Glover, which examines the relationships of eight gay men; it, too, was made into a popular movie.

In 1997, McNally stirred up a storm of controversy with Corpus Christi, a modern day retelling of the story of Jesus' birth, ministry, and death in which both he and his disciples are portrayed as homosexual. In fact, the play was initially canceled because of death threats from extremist religious groups against the board members of the Manhattan Theatre Club which was to produce the play. However, several other playwrights such as Tony Kushner threatened to withdraw their plays if Corpus Christi was not produced, and the board finally relented. When the play opened, the theatre was besieged by almost 2,000 protesters, furious at what they considered blasphemy.

On January 19, 2008, Robert Forsyth, Anglican bishop of South Sydney condemned Corpus Christi for depicting Judas seducing Jesus: "It is deliberately, not innocently, offensive and they're obviously having a laugh about it." The play also showed Jesus administrating a marriage between two male apostles.

In a January 2003 interview, McNally addressed critics who said he had "added" two gay characters to his Broadway adaptation of the film The Full Monty: "If Neil Simon had written the script, they wouldn't have said that. I get it for being gay, for proselytising. It's so annoying, all that bullshit."

McNally was partnered to Thomas Kirdahy following a civil union ceremony in Vermont in 2003, and they subsequently married in Washington, D.C. on April 6, 2010. McNally was one of the first victims of COVID-19 and died from complications on March 24 2020.

1948 – Walter Lee Williams is a former professor of anthropology, history, and gender studies at the University of Southern California. He is one of the pioneers in the field of Queer studies, with a long background in human rights activism. In 2013, after his retirement, he was arrested and imprisoned for five years on the charge of "illicit conduct in foreign places."

As a teenager in Atlanta in the 1960s, Williams was inspired by Martin Luther King to get involved in the civil rights movement. In 1978 he became a gay rights activist, protesting against Anita Bryant’s Save Our Children campaign.

Williams earned an undergraduate degree in History and Anthropology from Georgia State University in 1970, and continued to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where he earned a Master's in History in 1972, and a Ph.D. in History and Anthropology, in 1974. His doctoral thesis was Black American Attitudes Toward Africa: The Missionary Movement, 1877—1900, and would form the basis of his first book.

In 1979, while Williams was an assistant professor at the University of Cincinnati, he and Gregory Sprague founded the Committee on Lesbian and Gay History, an affiliate of the American Historical Association.

In his fourth book, The Spirit and the Flesh: Sexual Diversity in American Indian Culture, in 1986, Williams came out as gay. This book was the first complete study of the berdache, androgynous and gender-variant people among the American Indians. The book won the 1987 Gay Book of the Year Award from the American Library Association, the 1986 Ruth Benedict Award from the Society of Lesbian and Gay Anthropologists, and the Award for Outstanding Scholarship from the American Foundation for Gender and Genital Medicine and Science presented at the 1987 World Congress for Sexology.

He has published ten books and taught American Indian Studies. He has also been recognized for his work with the gay and lesbian community. An ethnographer, Williams has also traveled throughout North America from Alaska to Yucatan to study Native American tribes. His other areas of expertise include cultures of Southeast Asia and the South Pacific, based on his years of field research in Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia, the Philippines and Polynesia.

In 1994-1995, Williams, with Jim Kepner, oversaw the merger of the International Gay and Lesbian Archives and the ONE, Inc. library holdings to form the ONE National Gay & Lesbian Archives at USC, the largest repository of LGBT materials in the world.

On March 24, 2006, Williams was awarded the Gandhi, King, Ikeda Award from Morehouse College, for his work during the civil rights and peace movements and in support of LGBT rights.

Williams taught anthropology, gender studies and history at the University of Southern California until his retirement in 2011. He lived in Mexico on a retirement visa from 2011 to 2013, where he continued his earlier research among the Mayan Indians.

On April 30, 2013, a federal arrest warrant was issued for Williams in the United States District Court for the Central District of California for sexual exploitation of children, travel with intent to engage in illicit sexual conduct, and engaging in illicit sexual conduct in foreign places. Williams was accused of engaging in sexual acts with teenage boys in the Philippines via webcam.

On June 17, 2013, he was placed on the FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list. He was arrested in Mexico one day after he was put on the FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list and was extradited to Los Angeles, California. The FBI, with reasonable suspicion, searched Williams's computer, finding unclothed photographs of teenage boys. In 2014, he pleaded guilty to illicit sexual contact with boys aged 14 to 16 in the Philippines and was sentenced to five years in prison.

1952 – David Ho, HIV-AIDS researcher, was born on this date; a Taiwan-born American AIDS researcher famous for pioneering the use of protease inhibitors in treating HIV-infected patients with his team. Ho devised the method of treating HIV with "cocktails". He theorized that combining the powerful protease inhibitor drugs with other HIV medications would provide a more effective way to treat the disease.

Ho is married to artist Susan Kuo, with whom he has three children. Many of us owe our lives to his work.

1959 – Timothy Patrick Murphy (d.1988) was an American actor, perhaps best known for his role as "Mickey Trotter" on the popular CBS prime time soap opera Dallas during the 1982-83 season.

Murphy started his acting career as an adolescent in several television commercials and from there he went on to act in the 1978 miniseries Centennial. Other than his role in Dallas, he spent more than a year playing a young con-man on the CBS daytime soap drama Search for Tomorrow, and also had a regular role on the short-lived 1984 ABC prime-time drama Glitter. In addition to this, he appeared in episodes of Hotel, The Love Boat and Hunter.

He appeared in the 1981 film Bushido Blade. One of Murphy's most substantial roles was in the 1984 feature film Sam's Son, the film biography of the life of actor Michael Landon, in which he played the character of Gene Orowitz (the young Landon).

Murphy contracted HIV and died of AIDS on December 6, 1988 in California, aged 29. He once stated that he'd had an affair with the allegedly bisexual actor Brad Davis, who had AIDS and committed assisted suicide in 1991

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angy-lane · 2 years ago

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How do you think Monsieur Rook would react to fem!MC having a bunch of different interests? I can see them being a Renaissance person, the type to be endlessly curious and unearth as much as possible. Probably invited both him and Grim to sneak into the Hall of mirrors at some point.

Hella autistic. I be collecting special interest like Pokémon

Personally it’s the adhd for me, we be hoping back and forth between interest so I love this

Authors note: i decided to do this in head cannon format. I hope that’s ok.

Rook with a FemMc with many interest

Rook would be absolutely enamored. As a man with so much passion, he personally respects someone who can have such passion too. He could find MC just chilling with their head in a book and go all starry eyed “oh Mademoiselle, what now has caught your mind. Tell me so” His little flamboyant ass pulling out a chair so that he can sit and watch the sparkle in your eyes. Rook, who’d utterly adore hearing about what you’ve taken an interest in this week. He may be busy with Vil and stalking Leona, but he can always stop to lend an ear. Now renaissance, rook greatly appreciates the renaissance. A time of such love and emphasis on art has stricken the hunters heart. An MC who shares his love for that will surely excite him. He can’t wait for the next time you can sit and chat about all of your special interest. Just invite him and y’all can go to a Ren fest together. He’d have a blast eating food and seeing the beautiful scenery and ALL OF THE HAND CRAFTED ART✨. But whaat if it was romantic��👀 ohooho, sweet French words X 1000%, “mon ange” “mon amor” “Cherí” and my personal favorite “ma biche” which despite what it looks like , actually means something much sweeter. Rook would surely rather spend his time with you. He’ll show up at your windowsill with a soft look in his eyes. Knocking on the glass, and you can take out the earbud of your most recent documentary to hurriedly greet him. Late night, brushing each others hair, gentle giggly touches, going on and on about your favorite paintings or even pretty renaissance dresses. He’ll bring your favorite snacks and surprise you with tiny sculptures of your favorite animal hoping that it’ll cause you to burst out more cool facts about it. On a breezy day he’ll stare into your eyes, watching the way the sun glimmers in them. He’ll lean closer to give you his coat, but stay near to “keep you warm”. Your breath will hitch and your ramble hesitates as he gets even closer to brush a strand of hair out of your face softly. And there he’ll stop and stare. Thinking as he always does to maybe land a kiss onto your oh so passionate lips, but vying to rather wait. As to kiss you would stop your pretty voice from entering his ears. send in request and have a lovely day ✨

#Rook hunt #Rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #Fluff #headcannons #twisted wonderland

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mackspaws · 6 months ago

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I'm just gonna rant here for a second bc it's too long to put on Twitter

ANYWAY I love art and I feel like people put art on too high of a pedestal. Art isn't something high and mighty, it doesn't have to be anything fancy. When people think of art they think of Renaissance paintings or something when that, fundamentally, is NOT JUST what art is. Art can be literally anything and I don't think people realize they're artists. It's such a broad spectrum!!! It's not just art and painting, it can be anywhere from architecture to cooking!!! Because *you* made it!!!!!!! It's just AGHHH people don't realize how important art is to humanity in general either. It's SO important! It's not just entertainment to blindly consume it's something that should be APPRECIATED!!! And I get so upset when people just can't or won't look deeper into a piece of media when there's SO much more beneath the surface. Art takes skill and craft but most importantly it is made with EMOTION! It is made with sentiment! When an artist creates they are taking a little piece of themselves and putting it into that media, whatever it is.

Of course it's a broad spectrum so it's not *always* that deep, I get that. Sometimes people create with only the action of doing so, but that doesn't make it any less art, even if it's just slop churned out to make money. Art can be good, it can be bad, it can be mediocre. It exists to be appreciated and loved, or criticized and talked about. And it exists for people to connect with each other too!!! Art is a fundamental part of human life in my pure, honest opinion. Without art everything would be so much more sad and grey. It's so important to me and I really really think it should be important to everyone else too. It makes me sad how underappreciated it is.

#macks talks

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morkitten · 1 year ago

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tell me about a favorite piece of Fancy Art you have (painting/sculpture/etc, like something you'd find in a museum)

I wish I had a more eloquent answer, but I have not seriously studied the history of arts much further than, say, what you would learn from school. I'm self-taught and haven't attended art school. So this is basically to say that my answer isn't based on knowledge of history and intricate symbolism, just pure visual taste.

So, uh, I like Monet's paintings. I love the way he uses color. Cools are really cool and warms are really warm. Yet, no color feels perfectly "blocked", you get warm brushstrokes in cools and vice-versa. His color "noise" feels so natural and intricate. That sort of color explosiveness is what draws me to paintings.

Also, recently, I got to see several sculptures from the Renaissance up close, and it is such a different experience seeing photos of them versus being there next to them. The sense of physicality is another dimension entirely, it really helps you appreciate how much these artists were insanely horny for all aspects of human form. Seeing even the tiniest details of skin folds and stretches sculptured with so much arousal is really incredible. I also appreciate how many of these paintings would have the hand glued to the body but the pinky finger partially "out", as a sculpting flex, because it means you can slot your own pinky in there and hold pinkies together with the sculptures. I may or may not have done this. Several times.

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mclmora · 4 months ago

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✧ louis howard - headcanons ✧

note: as i mentioned in my previous midcin post (click here to see it) here are louis’ headcanons! all headcanons are SFW! credit of the pictures used to their respective owners on pinterest.

،،̲ his childhood.

growing up with strict rules, he would be forced to learn as much as possible, regarding all kinds of things. he hated most of it, however, after a couple years of learning waltz he began appreciating it, until becoming one of the few things he’d actually enjoy practicing.

he loved pudding. vanilla pudding to be precise, with fruits on top of it. he would be given that only as a reward on rare occasions, it was one of the things he looked forward the most.

he was very good with scientific subjects, although he preferred humanistic ones. he was particularly good with biology, even though he would much rather read poems all day.

،،̲ his appearance.

tremendously pale. he’s got the palest skin of all the midcin characters, which contrasts so hard with his dark blue eyes. his blue veins can be seen like thunders all over his arms.

his facial features are really soft: he’s got paper thin lips, droppy eyes and a straight nose. also, he shaves off his beard religiously, he despises the feeling of hair on his chin & cheeks.

he has little muscle mass. his limbs are thin, just like his legs. he’s also got a pretty small waist compared to his shoulders, indeed his clothes fit almost tightly on his shoulders but super loose near his waist.

،،̲ his likes.

the ocean. he’s in love with water places such as lakes, seasides, rivers and waterfalls. the sound of beach waves gives him peace of mind, it’s his absolute favorite place to be at.

the art of painting. a lover of renaissance art the most, he owns several copies of the paintings he prefers, such as saint jerome writing (caravaggio) and the birth of venus (botticelli).

horses. he loves animals in general, he is super attached to his bird lucia, however he has a deeper connection with horses. he loves visiting the riding stables of the royal knights just to go and see them.

،،̲ his dislikes.

bracelets. oh, he hates them. he likes earrings and rings but he absolutely despises bracelets, of all kinds. he just can’t stand them, even if they fit perfectly and don’t move from his wrist.

hot weather. although he doesn’t really sweat much, he detests summer. he’s much more of a winter guy, with heavy clothes, indoor dinners... yeah, that’s his thing.

small talk. he may not look like it, but he enjoys debating about important topics and is not scared of using big words. he’s a well spoken man who has opinions and is not scared of discussing them.

note: and that was it! i really hope you liked these. thank you so much to everyone who interacted with my first post, i appreciated it so much, you have no idea. sending lots of love to my fellow midcin lovers ❤️ i will gladly post more about this beautiful game!!!

#midnight cinderella headcanons #midnight cinderella louis howard #ikemen midnight cinderella #midnight cinderella #cybird ikemen #ikemen series #louis howard #midcin #mclmo’s ta #⟢

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literatureloverx · 5 months ago

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Can we have some more of your thoughts about fyodor? Pretty please 🙏

F Y O D O R D O S T O E V S K Y

Fyodor’s ideal type

Of course, sweetheart! I’ve been working on this one for a couple of days now and I decided to combine it with your request. ♥️

I hope you enjoy this one.

mdni, fem!reader, unhealthy thoughts in general, misogyny(?), yandere content. Headcanons under the cut.

Oh, how he loves delicate, fragile, sweet little things.

I talked about Fyodor having a soft spot for beauty or beautiful things in general, and you are no exception.

I can see him having no interest in romantic or sexual relationships in general (at first), but appreciating beautiful people ever since he’s been alive, especially women.

Women are like pieces of art to him, at least certain types of women.

He loves women who look as if they have sprung out of a painting, depicting the epitome of grace and beauty, bringing serenity and peace to his chaotic and cold life.

He would love women who are either slim and fragile, or curvy, like in a Renaissance Botticelli painting, reminiscent of his depiction of Venus.

However, I think the first type is more fitting for his character because he is weak and anemic himself, and it would make him feel more powerful and manly if you were even more fragile than him.

Long, flowing, shiny hair would be one of his favorite features, and he would love to caress your hair (or tug at it mercilessly, depending on the context for him).

He would love pale skin, so that his marks would appear as deeply as possible.

I don’t believe that eye or hair color truly matters to him, but I have the feeling that he might like it if your dark hair complements your fair skin.

Eye color wouldn’t matter, as long as you look like a princess from a fairy tale.

Regarding personality, he would definitely choose someone who is very empathetic and nurturing, as well as kind and gentle.

The contrast to his own dark personality would make him feel at home and at ease, something he can truly trust without any need for manipulation.

With you, he would find his other half. Peace, harmony, perfection.

He is well aware that he doesn’t trust people. If you were as smart as he is, he would find a reason to doubt you.

But if you don’t share his strategic mastermind, and instead have very high emotional intelligence? He would be all in.

He is the doer and you would be the lover.

That makes you intelligent, warm, and adorable, but not a threat to him in the slightest.

You’re perfect for him.

Of course, you’re still his fragile little baby, so he would plant some of his mind tricks to keep you in check, but it would be in a non-harmful way. You wouldn’t notice that anything is off.

He wouldn’t want you to be manipulated by other wolves now, would he?

If he wants to protect you, he needs to mold you.

He would isolate you, and you wouldn’t mind because you would be as socially introverted as he is. He doesn’t like unnecessary fuss or talking. Meaningful conversations only.

He would love to hear your thoughts on various topics you’re interested in, such as philosophy, psychology, and art history.

He loves classical art, be it in form of music or any other genre. You would share this love with him.

Those peaceful-seeming activities may fool anyone into thinking that Fyodor is a gentle soul, however, I believe it to be a half-truth.

He has a very bright, as well as a very dark side.

He loves harmony and believes in a singular ideal goal, but his actions are pitch black.

You would need to be someone who can bring more brightness to his life such as love, warmth, connection, compassion, balancing his dark traits out.

These aspects would make you worthy of his affection and limited time but would not pose a threat to him, so he would trust you with his cold, untouched heart, even if he can’t admit it to himself.

He would be flabbergasted once he saw how much you love him without being manipulated into it, how pure your feelings are, and how you seem to see his soul and accept him as he is.

Oh, after that, he would never, ever let you go.

You would be caged, forever.

But you are indeed someone who can appreciate her cage, as long as it has all the freedom you need inside.

Guess what? You awakened his interest in a romantic relationship and sexual intercourse.

Good luck. He won’t go easy on you.♥️

A deeper explanation regarding the physical traits can be found here

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

#bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #yandere fyodor #fyodor x you #yandere bsd #yandere #fyodor smut

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soul-dwelling · 2 years ago

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I agree that when analysing something the text itself is allways the most important thing, but when the only thing one sees is "power inconsistencys" or "plot armour", I think one isn't really reading the text. A comical example that onece was popular was about kids reading animal farm and thinking it was about animal mistreatment (not even defending animal farm, but you get my point)

I think that person is still reading the text when talking about power inconsistencies or plot armor.

But I do think that’s only one reading, and it would suck to not try something else, too.

It’s like that viral post on Tumblr about “don’t engage in just children’s animation.” I personally take some offense to that post--but that’s interpolation, it’s calling me out, and it’s fair to say that you’re not going to enhance your critical thinking skills if you don’t try something else. You try stuff other than children’s animation--so that, when you get back to children’s animation, you have awareness how this work is not like the Renaissance paintings, the ancient Chinese literature, the contemporary works of African diasporic writers--but also that maybe you found something cool in those other works that you see in children’s animation and say, “Oh, that’s neat, I wouldn’t have appreciated the songs in Bluey as much if I didn’t know about the punk music scene in Australia.”

I think you get better at figuring out power inconsistencies and plot armor when you do learn how stories are constructed. I do think treating a text as a text that may have a message and isn’t just the actions in that story helps you get more out of the story--to pick off meat from every bone of that story.

Awhile ago, film critic Matthew Buck had complained that the Quantumania movie was so weak because it wasn’t about something. I thought that was odd, given that it is a Hollywood action film, it’s a goofy film, it’s a comedy, it is playing with sci-fi conventions, it is a father-daughter bonding film, does it really need to be “about” something? But, yeah, a film has to. For me, having not seen the film, I can’t speak. But from what I heard elsewhere? That film was about all I just said: action, goofiness, comedy, sci-fi conventions, father-daughter bonding. Whether it actually said anything about those details, I doubt it; it was about something, but it didn’t say much about what it was about, if that makes sense.

It’d be like if you enjoy Dragon Ball--but does it say anything about what it is about? Does it need to? Soul Eater spoke to me personally--I sure as hell needed to see that anime, after a lot of changes in my life, wanting a story that ended with a message that fear persists but courage also exists.

But sometimes, a good work is just good for whatever it does for that person. Whether that person can verbalize it is another matter. I have a hard time putting into words what Soul Eater did for me when I needed it when I first encountered it--and I don’t think it’s a story that would be applicable to as wide an audience. But someone can say a lot of what Fullmetal Alchemist says to a wide group of people, or what Spider-Verse says to a large audience. Maybe a work is just an achievement in its visual art, or its story crafting, or the kind of character it presented that was needed at that moment. Not every analysis is going to be why its impressive how each sin dies in FMA Brotherhood, or the falling-rising scene in Spider-Verse. It doesn’t even need to be some “high-culture” moment, like how Gogol in Bungo Stray Dogs is such an excellent summary of the tragedy and comedy inherent to the real-life Gogol’s work. Sometimes it’s just, “I like how hard the animation went when Luffy punched that guy really hard,” or, “I love how the music kicks in at the right moments in the All Might versus Nomu fight.”

As for Animal Farm: look, if I had a student write a paper about how the story _speaks to_ topics like animal abuse, if the evidence was presented in a way that persuasively led to that conclusion, I would give the essay a grade A if and only if that student also acknowledged the major counter-argument starting in the very first paragraph, that they understand the messages and morals of Animal Farm, but that for this paper they were reflecting on what else the story demonstrates. Not every analysis has to be what the author intended, especially given that intention is hard to figure out when an author can lie or just miss out on what they accomplished. But yeah, if someone came away from reading Animal Farm as just “it’s about animal abuse” or Moby-Dick is “it’s just about hunting a whale” or “Hills Like White Elephants” and didn’t see it was about planning for an abortion, that is a question of reading comprehension and not getting to talk about a work with other readers.

#long post

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evilasiangenius · 3 months ago

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❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️! You are so sweet and kind, thank you!

I have totally linked the art on the fic, in both the summary and the end notes. Thank you so much, you are wonderful and generous!

Artistic choices and symbolism align! Amazing!

All the stories have even more research in end "Notes" chapter(s) so anyone who just wants to say, learn more about some ancient culture or want to write their own fic set in a historical time but needs some place to start, feel free to check it out. I'm not an expert and I don't guarantee to know or have covered every detail exactly, but it's at least a starting place for those of you who may want to write (or draw) your own historical stuff. FYI for the artists: I was recommended 20,000 Years of Fashion by Francois Boucher and it has been a really great reference. Often it'll have the name of some obscure fashion thing, which you can then look up online to find more about. For example, for the Chaucer story, after reading the relevant sections in the Boucher book, I found this site on medieval furs -- with actual medieval art examples that depict how the people of that time thought about themselves. Which is waaaay better than like, here is a bunch of ahistorical Renaissance/Baroque/etc. paintings of Rome or Greece or the Medieval from times when people knew way less about Antiquity/the Medieval than we do now.

Oh good point about what readers get versus what the writer creates. That is a Real Phenomenon. Artists deserve some more love. At least reading forces you to slow down a little but because we're such visual beasts, but art is one of those things that can be digested in seconds and not appreciate as much other than "ooh i like" or "ooh i don't like". But you deserve praise! Looking through your work, it looks like you continuously improve in skill, you challenge yourself, and you continue to experiment and innovate, constantly growing. I hope this is something that you always do for the rest of your life, because it seems to bring you much joy and you're good at it. Keep exploring and keep growing, and see where art takes you :) P.S. I wouldn't have guessed that your watercolor was a struggle. It looks so effortless!

🤣

Awww, thank you so much! I appreciate your kind words and I appreciate you for all the hard work you put into your art, especially on my behalf. I can't tell you how much this means to me, I am so honored. In my experience, this kind of thing happens once in a blue moon and I am always, always grateful for artists who choose to take time out of their day to create something based on work that inspires them. BTW, your Aziraphale and Crowley in traditional Slovakian clothing, is this a folk tale you're referring to and if so, which one?

Based on a fanfic by @evilasiangenius loved it go check it out !

Hope I got the appearances right also azis dress is from 1300 bc not 1900 but oh well

Ps author thank you for spamming me I was smiling like an idiot for solid 15 minutes hope you like this

Fanfic link below:3

#rybkart #long post

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clairenatural · 4 years ago

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i had a dream that sam and dean took cas to an art museum and showed him all these paintings of angels and it was like that scene in vincent and the doctor and cas said these paintings are beautiful because they depict the angels as human when a true angel could never be described as anything but monstrous and i woke up crying

anon i love this SO much. i love it so much i had to write it. this is 1.4k, destiel, human!cas

They’re making their way out of the city, monster killed and day saved, when Castiel sees a poster, pasted up on the side of the plywood wall of a construction site. It’s an angel—he doesn’t recognize the artist, but he’d guess late 19th century. Be Not Afraid: a History of Angels in Art, it proclaims, the logo of the city’s largest art gallery tucked into the corner.

Castiel stares at it. The angel on the poster stares back, wings spread and staff raised. Valiant. Something in his heart twitches, but it’s hard to place. He still has his blade, tucked safely into the trunk with the rest of their frequently used weapons, and he never had wings like that; even the shadows, the ones they showed to humans, were simply the closest representation to the real thing possible in this dimension (his back aches anyway, dimly, his human body reacting to the loss as if they were real severed appendages. He ignores it).

Dean notices, because of course he does. He stops, because of course he does, and flags Sam down before his long legs can carry him too far ahead. “Hey. You good?”

Castiel isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at the poster, but it’s long enough that Dean is obviously concerned. “Hm? Oh. Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”

Dean nods but doesn’t move. He considers the poster. “Art gallery, huh?” he asks, avoiding the obvious elephant. Castiel appreciates it. He nods back.

“I’ve never been to one,” he offers, as explanation. It seems odd—he can remember the painting of the Sistine Chapel, he remembers watching with fascination as humans began collecting the smaller paintings into collections and museums, but he’d never been inside one. It hadn’t seemed necessary. Humans collect art in large boxes to remember their history, but Castiel has seen it all.

Dean seems surprised by this. “Seriously?” Castiel nods, and there’s a pause, and he’s about to turn and keep heading towards the car, and Kansas, and home, when Dean claps him on the shoulder and turns to call over his own.

“Sammy! How do you feel about seeing some art?”

“You want to go to an art gallery?” Sam sounds incredulous, and is closer behind him than Cas expected. He hadn’t noticed him retreat the half-block he’d managed to gain on them.

“Yeah, why not? Come on. What happened to ‘a little culture wouldn’t hurt, Dean?’”

"What happened to ‘I’ve got plenty of culture, eat your damn burger?’”

“It’ll be fun, Sam,” Dean counters. Something in his tone has changed. Cas doesn’t think too hard about it.

There’s a long pause, and Cas knows there’s some sort of communication happening he can’t hear or see. “…Okay,” Sam concedes. “Okay, sure. Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they do.

Dean makes a comment about “haven’t been in one of these since I was a kid,” before they all fall into the hushed silence of the museum floor. It’s nice—nicer than Castiel had expected. Not in aesthetics; the building is sleek, and modern, and the art is obviously beautiful. But it’s nice to be there. It feels almost Holy—humans, funny creatures they are, with their habit of treating their own culture with the respect of something divine. Creating houses of worship out of museums and libraries and living rooms.

He wanders through the various exhibits but doesn’t really pay attention until he ends up in the exhibit from the poster. He’d managed to lose the Winchesters halfway through the photography exhibit, when both the brothers had gotten distracted. Castiel had continued onward anyway, on a mission, and by the time he finds himself walking into the angel exhibit he’s on his own.

He comes to a stop in front of one of the largest paintings in the room. It’s not the same angel as the poster. It’s several, actually, looking over what appears to be Mary and a baby Jesus. The angels are beautiful—smooth, flawless skin. They have long hair that looks soft, even in paint. They’re wearing white robes, and their wings are white and dove-like. None of these angels have several heads, rotating bands of fire, or thousands of eyes. They’re beautiful, but they aren’t angels. The human who painted this didn’t know that, of course—none of them did. Humanity was faced with the concept of divinity and conceptualized it as a version of itself.

“The real things ain’t as cuddly, huh?”

Dean’s voice startles him, which he hates, both because he hates being startled and because he’s still adjusting to Dean being able to sneak up on him.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, pretending he’d known Dean was there the whole time, “you paint us like we’re human.” Not ‘us’ anymore, he reminds himself, but he brushes that thought off. Not now.

Beside him, Dean snorts. “Yeah, well. If you’d told any of those Renaissance guys that the real angels are dickhead balls of celestial intent, they’d’ve arrested you for heresy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.” he pauses. “Well, yes. But that’s—” he turns to face Dean for the first time. He notices Sam over Dean’s shoulder, focusing intently on a painting a few feet away and obviously pretending not to listen.

“My father—God—Chuck,” he cycles through, which will never not be weird, “created us first, but not in his image. We weren’t worthy of that. Only you were. Humans, his perfect creation, modeled after their creator. But then—” he turns back to the painting and gestures to it. “You created us in your image. You thought about divinity and you couldn’t conceive anything more Holy than yourselves.”

Dean shifts. He tries for a laugh, but it comes out short. “Well, damn, Cas. Way to make a guy feel self-centered.”

Castiel turns back to him. He blinks. He frowns. That’s not what he means. “Most of my siblings thought so,” he agrees. “But I always thought it was an honor. Look,” He turns again and reaches out for the painting, only remembering a few inches from its surface to not touch it. “This one has a lyre. You always paint us playing music. But music, art….these are human things, Dean.” He lets his hand fall, but keeps his eyes forward. “We’re soldiers. They don’t teach us to play the harp in Heaven, they train us to fight. But these angels are…soft. Kind. Angels you trust to protect. The kind of angels people pray to, build churches to.” He looks back at Dean, who is staring at him with a frown. He holds his gaze, steady, and takes a deep breath before finishing. “I wish I was—that any of us were—worthy of being depicted this way. I wish we were the angels you paint us as.”

There’s a long pause while Dean searches his face, obviously trying to decide on the right reaction. If they were at home, Cas thinks Dean might reach out and hug him. Instead, Dean reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder—he lets it linger there, and Cas knows what it means, so that’s okay, too. “For what it’s worth,” he starts, and his voice is softer than the last time he spoke. “You’re the closest thing to those angels that I’ve ever seen.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Cas smiles sadly as he turns back to the painting. “I’m not any kind of angel anymore,” he points out, and tries his hardest to keep his voice neutral.

Dean squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head, trying to recapture Castiel’s gaze. “Hey. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he looks back over. “Your wings weren’t what made you a good angel, alright?” he brings his other hand up to poke into Castiel’s chest. “That was all in here.”

He sounds like he’s quoting the Wizard of Oz, and Cas wants to make a joke about that, but he’s also never wanted to kiss Dean more. He doesn’t, because they’re in a museum, and they’re still working up to that, but he makes a note to do it later. Instead, he reaches up and pulls Dean’s hand away from his chest, links it in his own, and squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s earnest, and it’s for everything.

Dean smiles. He understands. He squeezes back.

#i do hope it was ok to write this #i was hoarding this ask until i could #bc i couldnt stop thinking about it!!!#Anonymous #answered #my words #over 1k words #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #i am Not an art historian so i tried to keep all the descriptions vague enough to not cause problems but if there are issues im sorry

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frozenartscapes · 3 years ago

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New Edelgard Headcanon:

So there's debate in the fandom if she's actually a good artisit, right? Like some people like to think she's actually pretty good, and just hard on herself (which is totally believable given who she is). Others like to think she's moderately good, but she shouldn't get her hopes up about commissions. And then there's the classic "bad anime artist" headcanons.

But I propose this: she's actually a pretty good painter. By our modern-day standards. But in her time, where art has a Very Specific Method, she is not a master by any sense of the word.

Fodlan is based on medieval Europe, right? So let's imagine that, in Crimson Flower, post-war sees a bit of a renaissance, if you will. Gone are artists having to follow the Church's approved style. Art no longer has to be about the Goddess or the Church's teachings. Things take on a more humanistic approach, and as a result, art becomes much more grounded in reality. And so the style of art changes to reflect that, resembling high Renaissance art of our world. The focus was on realism, on perfect form and composition.

Edelgard, however, doesn't care about that. At first, she was. Especially for her portraits. Her memories of her family aren't very good and after almost losing Byleth twice she greatly fears forgetting details over time. But once she retires to the countryside with Byleth, once she is no longer Emperor and is able to actually relax and enjoy life, struggling to capture every tiny detail becomes less and less of a concern. Slowly, as she allows herself to feel and experience the world around her, her style of painting shifts to reflect emotions, rather than reality. And as she does this, it becomes easier and easier to complete a painting in a day. Sometimes even an afternoon. It's about capturing the moment, even if some details are missing. How she feels about the moment are reflected in colours and exaggerated brushstrokes. The whole scene seems to move - she can capture the gentle sway of reeds in the breeze or the ripples of a pond far better than any realism painter of her time.

Basically, she paints like Van Gogh.

But, also like Van Gogh, no one appreciates her art while she's alive. It's so garish and unrefined. The brushstrokes are too aggressive and rough. Those who knew of her from the war would often joke that she'd paint a better image if she simply took an axe to the canvas. But she doesn’t care. She’s not painting to impress anyone - she’s painting for herself. She’s doing this for herself, finally, after a lifetime of sacrifice and strife. She is doing what makes her happy, and to hell with all the snobby art critics.

Centuries later, someone finds an old cottage, one almost lost to time and the forest. And inside, are well over a hundred paintings. The paintings are restored and displayed, finally being appreciated. No one had ever seen art quite like it, and almost immediately a new wave of Impressionism began in Fodlan. The mother of this movement remains mostly a mystery, and art historians pour over every brush stroke to try and learn all they can.

They gain much from the subject matter. The artist was a cat lover. She was fond of gardens, particularly carnations. (She had a whole series dedicated to those.) She had a love of provincial life, and often featured labourers as subjects rather than nobility. One particular subject was deemed “The Fisherwoman”. She was easily the most popular of models for the artist, as she appears in more paintings than any other. There is an ongoing debate on if the Fisherwoman was merely a friend to the artist, or if she was something more.

Every single painting has a solitary, yet elegant signature on the bottom corner: “Edelgard”

Some wonder if this is the same Edelgard who threw Fodlan into war, who was once a fearsome and powerful Emperor who changed the face of the continent. But most scoff. There is no way someone with such passion and love of life would be the same as such a destructive force. Only ghosts and history know the truth.

#I just like the idea of el being a plein air painter #especially one who doesn’t care about commissions #she just does it for fun #and Byleth is a good model #I’m picturing her style mostly resembling Van Gogh #but maybe also something like the group of seven?#(Thomson or Jackson specifically)#Edelgard isn’t the type of person who just follows the rules #so why would her art be that way?#fe three houses #Edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #headcanons

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again.

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized.

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #mob au #mob!au #mob!clark kent #portrait of a dangerous man #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #au #dc #dcu

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rikachureadsbooks · 2 years ago

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I'd love to share! So oddly enough, I had all my annotations on post it notes instead of written on my books and I ended up typing them all out. I'll share them below :)

They are in order of book and page number. They'll be pretty slapdash and many will be missing context but I suppose I thought the page number as reference would be good enough 😅

(I would make this read more but I'm currently on mobile >.<)

Book 1: Scythe

53 - Anarchy?

53 - Technological Singularity

54 - How was it [creation of the scythedom] decided? Sounds like it was by the people. Democratically perhaps? [In hindsight, nar. The decision to leave the power of death to the humans was by a small group. In dissent, no less.]

54 - Conscience + consciousness, mortality. -> Thunderhead = science, logic, systems.’

57 - “Is anything really necessary?” Citra responded. {LOL}

58 - ‘The more troublesome offenders were tweaked with shock nanties in their blood, just powerful enough to deter any scoffing of the law.’ Citra’s uncle married his peace officer. Bruh. Bruhh.

59 - Scythe Faraday telling that unsavory he’d see him in 366 days. Gold. Heh.

64 - What a guy.

68 - All great questions. As a scythe you witness and enact perhaps the hardest part of post mortality life. If you have empathy that is? Or compassion at least. It could open a greater appreciation of life, ie through art, but as a scythe you still operate mostly outside of it. Solitary. Pensive, no worldly, familial, friendly attachments. What a role, truly.

70 - ‘...had been eliminated along with other unpleasant things, like disease and government.’ Heh. Nice. Same difference am I right?

71 - entire flight selected for gleaning me: -_- O.O

74 - uh oh. consequences of commandment 10 rearing its ugly head

101 - scythes being the sole purveyors of fear....hrm. too much power for humans.

110 - mortality being essential to humanity

114 - the sanctity of the law... and the wisdom to know when it must be broken

119 - I often wonder if the bright benefit of belief outweighed the darkness its abuse

could bring. I often wonder too...

137 - Oldest trick in the book to anon accuse yourself of misdeeds so anyone moving forward who attacks him will be painted the cowardly anon accuser. no one will try in that case

138 - ‘power politics might have been a thing of the past elsewhere, but it was alive and seething in the Scythedom’ how very human

141 - THE WEAPONSMASTER JUST GLEANED THAT SALESWOMAN ON THE SPOT. BRUH. SAVAGE. BRUTAL.

144 - ‘Will we all be renaissance children, skilled at every art and science, because we’ve had the time to master them? Or will boredom and slavish routine plague us even more than it does today, giving us less of a reason to live limitless lives? I dream of the former, but suspect the latter.’ damn Curie. I think I agree. So many safety nets. I would like the bare minimum in our world, but the TH really does coddle em

155 - The TH is perhaps their god in some ways. ‘which is worse-to be despised, or to be ignored?’

158 - damn. I mean yeah, but OOF

159 - ‘perhaps everything will change again’ this guy....

169 - a lovely conscience. a heavy burden.

184 - Huh... I like the cut of her gib.

190 - ‘it may not being you redemption, it might not even bring you peace, but it will keep you from despising yourself.’

192 - ‘Immortality has turned us all into cartoons’ Iconic line tbh

202 - Goddard...Egomaniac

211 - Any? All?

229 - ‘in time you’ll come to appreciate the silence and self-reliance that comes from its [TH] absence’

244 - ‘without the threat of suffering, we can’t experience true joy. the best we get is pleasantness

255 - even if rowan could make himself heard, he would never be understood

262 - journal of H.S. Prometheus.... a way to escape the system embedded.

270 - ‘Goddard promised his disciples anything a human heart could desire, in exchange for the complete abdication of one’s conscience.’ remniscient of capitalist era trade offs. Bezos.

294 - her thoughts, ponderings, philosophy. beautiful and intriguing. would the TH grieve them? as a child losing a parent or a parent who could not save a petulant child from its own poor choices?

295 - WHO DAT.

303 - Tyger a ward of the TH. They can do that? :o

306 - OH SHIT. Goddard was Xenocrates’ apprentice

334 - TH says what it sees concerns it.

340 - ‘to this day i still can’t understand why’ by choosing not to glean a woman who wanted it...and eventually thanked her for not. perhaps it simply felt wrong to hold such power in your hands. power that what people once called gods had. or nature. unnatural to become nature in that way.

345 - HOLY SHIT. Faraday took Curie on as an apprentice.

347 - ‘I think all woman are cursed with a streak of unrelenting foolishness, and all young men are cursed with a streak of absolute stupidity.’

368 - YOU. FARADAY. HE ALIVE.

372 - T~T reunited and it feels so good

372 - ‘I love the way it rains here. It reminds me that some forces of nature can never be entirely subdued. They are eternal, which is a far better thing to be than immortal.’ beautiful, ugh, the distinction

373 - ‘The stagnation that I so fervently glean on a daily basis seems an epidemic that only grows. There are times I feel I am fighting a losing battle against an old-fashioned apocalypse of the living dead.’ what a raw line.

387 - RIP T~T

388 - ‘My greatest joy for humanity is not for peace of comfort or joy. It is that we all still die a little inside every time we witness the death of another. For only the pain of empathy will keep us human. There’s no version of God that can help us if we ever lose that. - H.S. Faraday’

Book 2 - Thunderhead

3 - Foreshadowing? in hindsight, yeh lol

14 - that’s so cute tbh

15 - TH can’t directly intervene. but can choose not to

23 - lol. loophole bitches. sassy lil TH. ‘that is not the TH’s problem.’

27 - enough time for bucket lists + goodbyes. closure. true closure on your own terms.... beautiful. if only they all could have gleaned this way.

29 - Gottem! Anastasia saying for some, death was NOT instantaneous

31 - I’m inclined to agree about the indignity of having your death chosen for you

35 - ‘This is what the scythedom was incapable of understanding. They were so focused on the act of killing, they couldn’t comprehend what went into the act of dying.’ beautifully put, truly.

37 - TH is such a cool character

51 - stagnant, in your own way.

56 - that makes a lot of sense. and is so sad holy shit. the isolation of new traumatizing experiences that old friends just can’t understand. like war, or scythedom.

56 - ‘Tyger might have thought of himself as a free spirit, but he wasn’t at all. He just defined the dimensions of his own cage.’ damn. what a line

62 - WHAT. how?

65 - ...for now...?

66 - serial parents, love the idea of having families, but loathed raising them. YEESH.

76 - damn dude... it is sad to live and die without knowing the truth of one’s existence...only sad to us however.

87 - what is normal will often be taken for granted.

100 - compassion even in this. unsavories.

115 - ‘the illusion of purpose is critical to a well-adjusted population.’

123 - omfg. smort.

158 - ‘therefore, although I do not require devotion, am I not deserving of it?’

163 - :o ... D: they gleaned the people she was going to glean later!! rude!! unfair!!!

169 - omfg. posers. ‘They conformed so closely to their culture of non-conformity that there was a uniformity to them, defeating the whole purpose.’

176 - ‘Permission is the bloated corpse of freedom’ damn dude. RAW line.

188 - scaring a near omnipotent A.I.....

191 - ‘The simple pleasure of being good at what you do is very different from finding joy in the taking of life. ... Guard your conscience, Anastasia, and never let it wilt. It is a scythe’s most valuable possession.’

203 - hehe Rowan said Xenocrates deserves a spanking. it true.

209 - sadge. but fascinating

212 - WHAT. PLOT TWIST. AGENT TRAXLER NOOOOO.

213 - you had a point but damn. ‘Were I to begin doling out death, I would be the very monster that mortal man feared A.I. would become. To choose those who live and those who die would leave me both feared and adored, like emperor-gods of old. No, I decided. Let humankind be the saviors and the silencers. Let them be the heroes. Let them be the monsters. And so, I have no one but myself to blame when the scythedom befouls the things I have worked for.’

222 - wow. sadge. the TH uses rain for tears.

227 - :(

231 - bro the TH is so cute tho.

255 - ‘Man creates God, who then creates man. Is that not the perfect circle of life? But then, if that turns out to be the case, who is created in whose image?’

259 - scythes having no natural predators.... scary

288 - two perfect acts. creation of life and life’s taking.

300 - i have no mouth but I must scream

303 - obeying law is not always just. breaking law is not always wrong.

309 - ‘vast difference between things TH can do and things it chooses to do

346 - um. uh oh. ‘all I can do is watch unblinkingly as my beloved humankind slowly weaves the rope it will use to hang itself.’

352 - Curie’s high blade speech!!

355 - ‘The truth of that hit home for all of them just as thoroughly as a raven at the chamber door.’

364 - she finally sees herself as Scythe Anastasia! yayy

365 - ‘am I not superior to nature?’ dear me TH

382 - Goddard the bastard! Gleaning engineers that would behoove space travel!!

393 - ‘Yes, the mindless can be pleasant.’ lmfaoooo

395 - TH gave Greyson a sign!! but his eyes were closed!!!! widestpeepoestsaddest

418 - ‘We are forever impaled upon our own wisdom’ love that line

488 - o shit bye Xenocrates. You were not great but not the worst.

489 - o shit TH is done with humanity. oop

Book 3 - The Toll

28 - INTRO OF JERICO, MY BELOVED <3 A woman beneath the sun and the stars. A man under the cover of clouds.

102 - Big sadge! “where are you my dear Marie?’ T-T

147 - Greyson can’t take advantage of his position. Doesn’t want to be a hypocrite. what a little paragon of goodness. pats head

164 - A whole industry for designing near impenetrable sanctums! cool. wish I could do that...oddly enough

166 - A construct does not make new memories. Ayn and her tortured actions and regrets... o u miss him do ya? maybe u should have thought about that before u repurposed his body!!

169 - Ayn made a mistake and regrets it. poop head.

171 - iteration who? TH iteration for sure but hmm

182 - ‘One could say that he has cast himself as Atlas. Which means the slightest shrug can shake the world.’

183 - change of definition bias. uh oh.

184 - isn’t attractiveness a factor of genetics? u can probably get surgery but like still??? idk

186 - ‘Greatness is overrated.’ u tell em TH

201 - Scythe trading cards...sounds about right.

211 - people started staying away from theaters and clubs.... killing culture and social gatherings... and generating isolation. Well that's paralleled in the most horrifying way. ....USA.USA. T-T

218 - ‘No one’s memories are true.’

237 - Mary Pickford beat the fuck down. fallen in but tired and ...given up

245 - When?? not if?? when?? mobilize the tonists??

258 - TH silene speaking volumes!! can’t talk about scythe stuff! oho!!

269 - Greyson legit said work for me to the assassin sent after him. bad. ass.

306 - ROWAN SAYING THANKS I LOVE YOU TOO. PLZ. baby boy this aint the time

369 - most ppl not taking a position and disappearing into the pleasantries of their lives.... too reeeallllll

406 - scythe Da Vinci say what? ahem?

414 - primal, predatory lust for the crushing of life.... dear me

417 - he’d need to lead them into the darkness before he could lead them into the light..... hrm

425 - ‘Perhaps it was vanity on her part, but the last thing she wanted was to be immortalized by an artist who was ‘less mediocre than most.’ LMAOOO same girl

429 - TH ‘Correction must be about lifting one up from one’s poor choices and prior deeds. As long as remorse is sincere, and one is willing to make recompense, there is no purpose to suffering.’

439 - ‘People are vessels,’ Jeri, ‘They hold whatever’s poured into them.’

460 - GODDARD COMMANDED THE SPACE GLEANING AAAA

501 - TH believes in a sort of reincarnation. Energy/spirit wise. damn

502 - ‘I’m frightened.’ ‘That is not a bad thing. It is the nature of life to fear its own end. This is how we know that we are truly alive.’

506 - MENDOZA ARMED THE SIBILANTS IN SUBSAHARA. FUCKO.

508 - the iteration needs to connect to biologic experience!!

524 - ‘If we gleaned every asshole, there’d be virtually no one left.’ rip Scythe Volta

539 - T~T Reunited againnnnn noooo my feeeeeels SCYTHE FARADAYYYYY AND ANASTASIAAAA at last!!! omfg he called her Citra. I am emOTIONAL

543 - Cirrus! the cloud that rises above the storm! sick

548 - we could have had it allllll

550 - Cirrus was the child of Greyson, Jeri, and the TH. woooow.

565 - ‘I am unwavering, with so many things in flux, there’s got to be someone who stands firm.’ damn ok Astrid.

568 - Rowan and Citra!!! REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOOOD. ;~;

569 - Citra is back! Casting off Anastasia! WOO!

578 - :O Greyson has feelings for Jeriiiiii AAAAA MY SHIP. my captain!!

580 - ‘Old habits die hard.’ ....old man please. good pun though

585 - he found another wild heart, i’m sobbing don’t mind meeee

586 - damn. ol’ Sykora is finally useful

590 - CRIES. HE DIDN’T GET A FINAL GOODBYE. it hurts o it hurts.

615 - 77% chance to live to 100. 60% to 200. 46% to 300. p good i think. at that point you could get quite weary of life

617 - sobbing againnn Greyson saying TH is unsavory to him. warranted and oh so sadddd.

618 - TH and Greyson both made the right choice. sob sob sob

620 - she brought that bitch back ohymgod. Rand you ho. now he has Goddard’s face. ...but Tyger’s body and mind so I guess. Hm. At least that stupid bish is gone.

625 - A CENTURY TO DEAL WITH HIS CRIMES AND MISTAKES AND RECKON WITH THEM AND FIND PEACE IN HIMSELF AND THAT MEANS HE CAN BE HEALED WHEN THEY FINALLY GET TO BE TOGETHER OKAY OKAY I'M SOBBING FR NOW.

Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman ~ annotation tour

mostly ones near the start to avoid giving spoilers

i got it signed when i met him last year so obviously i have to show that off

#aoas #arc of a scythe

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