#muse;william

[beausprouts]

Dancing with my deepest dark desires

[cloudysarts]

ive seen SEVERAL 'bill and mabel friendship' au's over the years and i love them all, so i figured it was about time i show the world mine!! ^^ im calling it Mabel's Muse. details under the cut!!

(DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT A MABEL X BILL AU. GROSS. PROSHIPPERS DONT TOUCH THIS)

in this au, bill and mabel form a bond in the very early era of the show. like, early to mid season one. much like ford did, mabel lets him into her mind, and they form a close bond. she has no idea he has any ulterior motives. the rest of the shack, and honestly the town in general, chock this up to a weird "phase" of hers, referring to bill as "mabels imaginary friend". but mabel calls him her muse <3

theres a little more to it than this but its honestly still a work in progress, so take this for now and let me know if anyone would be interested in seeing more of this!!!

(edit: if you're interested, you can now check out more of this au (with additional art and lore) over here!) (EDIT EDIT: made some more!! here and here <3)

[joeloverture]

it's been on my mind since i've started reading tlou reader-insert, but i just want to let you all know: plus-sized people can exist in the apocalypse. there's a plethora of reasons why:

genetics. lack of eating can cause slower digestion. your body enters survival mode and slows down your metabolism. eating canned, processed foods that outlasted traditionally healthy foods.

people can be plus-sized and still athletic. people can be plus-sized and have 'healthy' lifestyles. people can be plus-sized and not fit your expectation of what being plus-sized is like.

i make this post because, with fatphobic rhetoric always floating around, it's hard to remember that you exist as you are, oftentimes regardless of circumstance.

[7pleiades7]

Titania Sleeping (1840) by Richard Dadd (1817-1886), oil on canvas, 64.8 × 77.5 cm, Musée du Louvre, Paris

[lionofchaeronea]

The Dance, William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1856

[little-blurry]

[cleopatragirlie]

𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞'𝐬 '𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞' (𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟔)

[flor4de4amor]

cheerleader!reader having a threesome w basketball!abby n team photographer!ellie

[pommedepersephone]

I watched Queer yesterday and I have FEELINGS about all of it. First of all, brava, it was amazing. The acting, the costumes, the cinematography, the soundtrack, it all worked for me. I am going to be gnawing on this for a while. But to satisfy my immediate urge to scream into the void about this movie, I want to talk about cameras, in both the book and the movie.

In the intoduction to the 1985 edition of Queer, William S. Burroughs wrote-

What Lee is looking for is contact or recognition, like a photon emerging from the haze of insubstantiality to leave an indelible recording in Allerton's consciousness... Lee does not know that he is already committed to writing, since this is the only way he has of making an indelible record, whether Allerton is inclined to observe or not.

For context, the semi-autobiographical Queer makes Burroughs into Lee, and Eugene Allerton is the fictional version of Lewis Marker (seen here with Burroughs in 1951), who Burroughs pursued intensely.

In a letter to Allen Ginsburg, Burroughs states, "I wrote Queer for Marker." Their relationship fell apart in the course of writing the book, with Burroughs penning repeated letters to Marker in an attempt to reconnect. The longing for "recognition", to leave an "indelible record", is pervasive in the narrative. And the camera serves as a physical manifestation.

🚫 SPOILERS FOR "QUEER" BELOW THE CUT 🚫

In the book, the camera makes its first appearance immediately after Allerton and Lee first sleep together. Lee mentions that Allerton's camera is in pawn, and he offers to buy it back for him.

After they get the camera out of hawk, Allerton does not express any gratitude, and becomes "nervous and irritable" and after a tense conversation the the cafe he abandons Lee, refusing to make future plans.

In the movie (at least the theatrical cut, I mourn for that lost hour) the camera just appears as an object belonging to Allerton. However, the tense scene in the cafe remains, and ends with Allerton getting up to abruptly leave, nearly leaving the camera. Lee stops him, handing him the camera before he goes.

Lee in the book sees the incident with the camera as indicative of their relationship, saying -

He forced himself to look at the facts. Allerton was not queer enough to make a reciprocal relation possible. Lee's affection irritated him... Allerton did not recognize friends who made six-hundred-peso gifts, nor could he feel comfortable exploiting Lee. He made no attempt to clarify the situation. He did not want to see the contradiction involved in resenting a favor which he accepted. Lee found that he could tune in on Allerton's viewpoint, though the process caused him pain, since it involved seeing the extent of Allerton's indifference. "I liked him and I wanted him to like me," Lee thought. "I wasn't trying to buy anything."

While the story of their trip I to the jungle is vastly different from book to movie (which I am sure will be its own future ramble) they end very much the same - abruptly and with no closure.

While Lee wanted reciprocal affection, when he realizes that is unlikely to happen, he does buy Allerton's attention by paying for their trip to South America. In the book, the camera isn't mentioned during their journey, but its inclusion in the movie feels like a solid artistic choice. Allerton is along as an observer, after all, giving Lee the recognition and indelible record he longs for.

The final chapter, in the book and the movie, finds us back in Mexico City, two years after Lee's trip with Allerton and an extended absence by Lee himself. In the book, Lee is seeking subjects to take pictures of, but mostly resorts to snapping portraits of unwilling people. He says -

There is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, incorporate, a sexual pursuit of intimacy.

The movie, though, offers an absolute gut punch. Two years have passed in the literal blink of a cinematic eye, spitting Lee back out with a camera and Allerton's haircut. It is as if he has become the observer he so desperately wanted, but still he is seeking out Allerton. It made me think of a line from Burroughs' introduction to the book -

While it was I who wrote Junky, I feel that I was being written in Queer.

One of the things I find fascinating is the self editing that took place between when Queer was written in 1952, and published in 1985. Burroughs writes in the introduction about how the death of his wife had influenced the book, and never once mentions Marker. But his memory clearly still stuck with Burroughs, as the editor of the 2010 edition of Queer notes that Allerton appears as a character in My Education and The Soft Machine.

Annnnnyway, I can promise I will be revisiting Queer. AND if you are like me and could not get into Junky, I highly suggest still giving Queer a read.

[layla-keating]

LAYLA BAKER ALL AMERICAN | 6.14 "I Do (Part I)"

[duchessofostergotlands]

SOMEONE WHO IS GOOD WITH THE GIFFING NEEDS TO DO A SIDE BY SIDE GIF OF DIDI IN A MAN ON THE INSIDE SAYING "THAT'S ALL ANY OF US REALLY WANTS, RIGHT? MORE TIME WITH THE PEOPLE WE LOVE" AND CHIDI IN THE GOOD PLACE SAYING THE REAL GOOD PLACE IS "HAVING ENOUGH TIME WITH THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE."

[witchrealms]

(x)

[cloudysarts]

ever since i was a kid, ive wondered what it would look like if mabel was convinced to rule gravity falls alongside bill during weirdmageddon.....and my au FINALLY gave me an excuse to draw up a design for it!!!! SO, i introduce you to: Henchmaniac Mabel!!!!!!!! look at how cute she is!!!! <3 more context under the cut!!!

(other mabels muse au parts can be found here, here, and here!)

if you don't wanna check out the other parts, a really quick summary of this au is that: near the beginning of summer, bill reveals himself to mabel, and they become fast friends. everyone else in town assumes hes imaginary, but she knows hes real. what she DOESNT know, is that he has ulterior motives for wanting to get on her good side, specifically....

eventually, that leads to this!!! ford and dipper pull away from her, upon the discovery that shes working with a demon, which makes her feel more isolated than ever. shes convinced they just have the wrong idea, about bill. when ford suggests dipper stay with him after the summers over, she finally breaks down, and is comforted by her "muse". he promises her more summer! if she just break's her great-uncle's rift :)

of course, mabel isnt a MONSTER. and bill knows this! he knows that she might think his idea of a party is a liiiittle bit extreme. so, at the beginning of weirdmageddon, he gives her a gift! a pair of magic goggles! and juuuust enough of his power so that she can share in the joy of re-decorating the town :)

[themuseofaphrodite]

do you get deja vu? ✧ FC43 / CS55 

summary: you are at a masquerade ball in buenos aires, argentina, and you have garnered the attention of a certain argentinian driver. little does he know that a year ago, you were living a mirror image life with a different spanish driver.

trigger warnings: angst, suggestive content, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of depression, cheating

note: phrases and sentences in the spanish language are utilized throughout; keep a translator accessible

word count: 1.9k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Parties were the only thing that quieted the whirlwind in your head. Getting drunk, dressing in fancy attire, pretending to be someone you were not, helped fix your fucked-up mind, even if it was just for a handful of hours. Ever since your break up with Carlos Sainz Jr., you had fallen down a rabbit hole of despair and heartbreak, muting your feelings with Bacchian revelries. Nothing else you did helped – you tried meditating, yoga, spin class, journaling…yet nothing gave you peace like parties did.

You nursed the glass of white wine in your hand, sipping it casually as you perused the ballroom, scanning the crowd for someone worthwhile. Another reason why you enjoyed parties is because it was the best hunting ground for a one-night stand. Most people who went to these festivities were looking to find hook-up partners, which is exactly what you needed. 

Everyone’s face was obscured with masks, and you could tell a lot about someone based off of their disguises. Those who wore fanciful designs were vain and egotistical, those who preferred muted designs were insecure. You needed someone showy but not extravagant – and that’s when you found the perfect mark.

He was already staring at you, his piercing olive eyes honed in on you. His light brown hair sloped in gentle waves over his forehead, his muscular build concealed by a tight-fitting tuxedo. Sun-kissed freckles dotted the lower portion of his face.

He was everything you needed to take your mind off of Carlos. Or so you thought.

“Buenas noches,” you murmured to him when you stood beside him, your head tilted to the side, scouring for details previously missed. He smelled like caramel and sea salt mixed with expensive cologne, and he carried himself like he was a prince. “¿Cómo ha sido tu noche?”

He craned his neck down to look at you, a smirk curling at his top lip. “Mejor ahora que has venido a charlar.”

“Hm,” you hummed under your breath. “Pensaría que un chico lindo como tú tendría las agallas de hablar con una chica.”

“¿Y quién dijo que no?” he inquired, one eyebrow raised.

“My name is Y/N,” you responded, not caring to stay on the same topic of conversation anymore and switching to English, the language you were more fluent in. Carlos had been the one to teach you Spanish so you could understand what his family was saying when you visited them, but you still felt unsure when speaking it. “And yours is?”

He chuckled. “Franco Colapinto.” A soft accent tilted the edges of his vowels, and it sent a spark of electricity racing through your veins. Just like Carlos. You forced yourself to take your mind off of your ex – thinking about him would not do anything. Carlos had someone better, and soon you would too.

Franco’s name sounded vaguely familiar, but you had far too many drinks to remember exactly why. “Ah. You’ve been looking at me all night. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” you  crooned playfully.

“Yes,” he responded, his tone just as mischievous. “And would you like to tell me something as well? Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring at me, hermosa.”

“You first,” you pressed, taking a sip of your white wine.

“I was thinking how surprising it is that una chica impresionante like you would not have a date to such an event,” Franco mused. “Do you have someone?”

You shook your head, swallowing roughly. “No.”

“Then it would be my pleasure to accompany you, querida.” Franco looped his arm through yours, pulling you close to his body. He was warm, toned muscle, and you suppressed a groan at the contact. “¿Te gustaría encontrar un lugar más...privado?”

A private area…just what you needed. You bobbed your head in agreement, and Franco tugged you towards a small alcove, away from the eyes of partygoers. “Tell me why you’re here,” you pushed. “Do you not have a date?”

“No date. I was hoping that I would stumble upon a beautiful girl like you, though,” Franco flirted casually. The way he had with words alerted you to the fact that he honed his charm like a weapon, and it intrigued you. “Gracias a Dios que mis deseos se hicieron realidad.”

“You’re such a smooth talker,” you teased, tugging gently on his mask and causing him to make a disapproving noise at you. “How many girls have you picked up with those same lines?” You appraised him, scanning his stature from head to toe. “Eres un espectador.”

Franco laughed. “Tú también.”

You stepped forward, encasing his shoulders with your arms. Angling your face up, you kissed him deeply on the lips, a moan escaping your lips at the sensation of how soft he was. It was deceiving, the way he looked – strong, hewn stone, but his lips were like a cloud. Franco immediately intensified the kiss, his tongue battling with yours for dominance, his arms snaking down your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Fuck,” you murmured when you broke apart. “Someone knows how to make out.”

Franco grinned and pecked you on your cheek. “I’ll gladly continue, amor. Just give me the word.”

You kissed him again – this time more fervently, like you were trying to etch him into your memory and erase every flashback you had of Carlos.

Madrid, Spain

Carlos Sainz Jr. sucked in a breath as you spun around the room in your lavish pink ballgown. “Fuck, cariña, you look so good.” You beamed back at him. “We have to go to more parties now. You look absolutely stunning.”

“Yeah?” you cocked your head. “Says the sexiest man alive.”

Carlos laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Te amo mucho, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re perfect.”

You scoffed. “If you say so.”

Carlos clucked his tongue, picking you up and setting you down on the edge of the bed. “I know so, amor.”

“Hm.”

He kissed you, making you topple over onto the bed and screech in surprise. “Trust me, cariña, you drive me crazy.” Carlos crawled on top of you, pinning you down and kissing you again passionately. “My fucking ángel sent from the heavens.”

“Except you know I’m anything but an angel,” you retorted, and he quieted you with another kiss. “Carlos, come on, we’re going to be late.” He huffed angrily but extricated himself from you, brushing invisible specks of dust off of his lapel. 

“Do you have your mask, Y/N?”

You nodded, sitting up from where you were lying and pointing at the shiny rose gold masquerade mask that was resting on the vanity table. “That’s mine.”

“OK. Everything else done?” Carlos inquired, and you nodded once more. “Then come here and vamos.”

You were extremely excited to go with Carlos to your first ever masquerade ball. You’d spent weeks agonizing over what color scheme to choose for your dress so that it would match up with your mask, whereas Carlos had selected a simple black-and-white tuxedo with a stormy gray mask. “I want you to stand out, amor. I don’t care what I wear. I want everyone to be looking at my beautiful girlfriend, not me.”

Forty-five minutes later and you were in the ballroom, your jaw gaping open in awe. A large gilded chandelier hung suspended over the crowd, a thousand candles flickering vividly. The floor was a plush red carpet and the walls were filled with ancient portraits. You could swear that some of them were alive, and that they were staring at you.

Hopefully not judging you…

Carlos signaled a waiter over and ordered a glass of wine for the both of you. “I need to use the restroom,” he told you. “Don’t drink my wine, ¿OK, cariña?”

You nodded and gave him a peck on his cheek, watching him disappear through the crowds. A few moments later, your wine appeared and you took a gulp, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for Carlos to return.

Minutes ticked by and still Carlos had not come back. Maybe he got caught up talking to someone, you assured yourself. He’s fine. 

But even after the belltower chimed eleven, Carlos was nowhere to be seen. You began a frenzied search for him, asking people frantically if they knew his whereabouts. Everything was a dead end, until…

The familiar tall, bronzed body with his fingers twisted through another woman’s hair, his lips plastered against hers like they were glued together.

Your breath stuttered in shock, tears pricking your eyes like knives.

Without another second wasted, you turned your back on him and fled the scene where your heart was torn into a million pieces.

Buenos Aires, Argentina

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked Franco a few hours later as the sun was descending into the horizon. You had left the ball an hour previously, finding your way into a small cafe where you two had been chatting and sipping on green tea. 

“Oh, I drive cars,” Franco responded, his eyes lighting up. “I’m a Formula One driver.”

Your heart spasmed in your chest and you fought to remain still. “Really? What team?”

“Williams,” he specified, one shoulder shrugging nonchalantly. 

The same team Carlos was heading to after the end of this year. God liked to play cruel games on you, that was for sure. “Interesting.” You tapped your fingers against the wooden table. “Do you enjoy it?”

Franco bowed his head. “Very much. I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t.”

“How long have you been racing?” you inquired.

“In Formula One? Since the start of this season. I was pulled in because a different driver wasn’t doing well. Mejor para mi, supongo.”

At least he didn’t have years of experience like Carlos did. Franco was getting newly acquainted with the lifestyle and demands that was Formula One, which was all the more reason that you should stay away. If Carlos could not resist the temptations, Franco would break in an instant. That much you could tell already from the way that he had effortlessly flirted with you, like it was second nature. “I hope you stay longer.” You gave him a smile, suddenly nauseous and desperate to leave. “But I think that I must say goodnight and go home.”

Franco pouted. “Lo siento. I gave you my number. Stay in contact with me, por favor.”

“I will,” you promised, although you did not have any intentions to do so. The ghosts of Formula One had to remain in the past, and you couldn’t move on if you dated a driver from the same future team as your ex. “Goodnight.” “Buenas noches.”

It was so strange how life was. You had never believed in predestination; you always thought that life was constantly changing. There was no such thing as fate or destiny, but the more you thought about it, it seemed like there was only one road for you to travel down. 

Deja vu was everywhere, and God forbid you if you succumbed to its miseries.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[expectiations]

When talking about Amy and Rory as a unit, I call them "the elder Ponds". Because they are. It doesn't matter that River and the Doctor are older than them. They have had to mitigate rows between their own daughter and son-in-law. That immediately makes them the elder Ponds.

When talking about the Ponds, River is always included in it. Because River is a Pond first and foremost. Unfortunately we don't even have a proper Pond Fam pic because of what series 7–[gunshot]

[elv1raes]

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