#musings: self

[lipikkawrites]

A lot will go wrong before everything goes right.

Keep moving forward.

-@lipikkawrites

[graceandopulence]

[red-garden]

Shen Yuan is two things:

1) chronically ill

2) rich rich

He couldn’t count on both hands the number of health scares he’s had, but he fought years to move out of his parents house and live independently!

…. Until he was found half dead by his sister and nearly died in the hospital. No one even knew until she showed up.

The smart thing- the thing his parents want- would be to sell his apartment and move back in so his family can watch him. But frankly, Shen Yuan was reaching the end of his 20s. He didn’t want to be 30 in his parents home being scolded for buying yet another anime figurine and fussed over all hours of the day by nannies.

So, like the adults they were, they compromised. Shen Yuan could live independently IF he put together a complete staff of live in specialists to help him. He had a few months to do so, and all had to be thoroughly background checked.

Which is how he ended up with an old estate filled with specialists who all bore striking resemblances to the cast of Proud Immortal Demon Way.

(SY endears himself over the course of months to the entire modern cast of svsss and collects them to live with him and be generously financially supported. Additionally he finally tracks down the hack author of PIDW and keeps him as well, taking away the financial strain so PIDW can achieve its true potential as art.)

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[words-at-night]

[minimalist-quotes]

A lot will go wrong before everything goes right. Keep moving forward

-@lipikkawrites

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

~Celestial Muse~

Protect your sketchbook from prying eyes.

[iambrillyant]

“the beautiful thing about being your own muse is that you never have to be at the mercy of anyone’s gaze to feel validated, you never have to rely on external energy to feel like you are worthy of celebration, you continue being art regardless of whether they see you or not.”

— billy chapata

[saesans]

would encourage those interested in feminist/radical feminist/materialist feminist literature and ebooks to consider buying directly from spinifex press instead of amazon! it is a bit more costly to do so but there is probably no other publishing company with as extensive of a feminist catalogue and mission entirely and explicitly dedicated to highlighting and dismantling sex-based oppression for women, girls, gays, and lesbians. fiction, non-fiction, black authors, native authors, asian authors, lesbian authors, bisexual authors, mothers, child-free women, atheists, the religious, spiritual women, academics, doctors, lawyers, elders, artists, young women, trafficking survivors, abuse survivors, poetry, anthologies, critical analyses, vintage works, medical histories, memoirs, and so much more all through a [radical] feminist lens. a beautiful collection of diverse feminist thought, theory, and history. even if you can't buy anything, join their free newsletter and zoom meetings!

plus, with a changing technological landscape like ours it's a good idea to immortalize these books in physical print in our own libraries. how many movies can no longer be found on any streaming site or in any library with their physical copies going for hundreds of dollars on secondhand sites?

preserve your media and support a feminist company that still has its claws and fangs!

https://www.spinifexpress.com.au

[butcharium]

A butch (almost) every day ▪️04/09/2024

A self portrait drawn while I am in a state of general malaise and melancholy.

[lipikkawrites]

- @lipikkawrites

[graceandopulence]

[honeytonedhottie]

how to be ur own muse⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⭐️

everyone has their own inner well of creativity and inspiration. being ur own source of motivation and inspiration takes others off of the pedestal and puts u on it instead…💬🎀

IDENTIFY UR PASSIONS ;

through identifying what things ur passionate about, ur tapping into what lights ur soul on fire. start passion projects. a passion project is exactly what it sounds like and its an amazing way to use ur own creativity and also serves as something to go back to when ur longing for that inspiration again.

its important that when u have passions and interests that u explore them and foster them. fostering what ur passionate about and practicing it makes u more comfortable and oftentimes when we are more comfortable in something we are open to doing greater things cuz were not constantly psyching ourselves out.

SELF EXPRESSION ;

self expression is so so important because when u express urself honestly and authentically, u uncover passions and ur values and so many other things as well. when u express urself its not only good for ur soul but u can express urself through so many different outlets.

u can express urself through things like art, poetry, song writing, makeup, and even just speaking. its a healthy way to release pent up emotion and passion into a beautiful piece. not only that but self expression fosters creativity and innovative thinking, so its a wonderful way to spark inspiration from within urself.

EXPERIMENT WITH YOURSELF ;

try out new things with urself and ur appearance. whether thats trying out different makeup looks, style, etc. experiment until u figure out what makes you YOU. if u already know ur own style and the things that make u uniquely individual, still experiment with ur look because thats what u do with a muse. the definition of muse is

a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

so be ur own creative artist and look towards urself for inspiration. another way to look for and foster inspiration is through pinterest. i have so many boards on pinterest for things that i use as inspiration not only for the songs i write but for my posts as well.

BE OBSESSED WITH URSELF ;

compliment urself constantly, be absolutely obsessed with urself to the point where you HAVE to love urself. loving urself is such an important and essential form of being ur own muse and just such an essential step as well. every artist loves their muse, every artists adores their muse so why should u be different?

[inkedberries]

npcs somewhere in the capital, circa 1920

Andrey is an owner of an edgy underground club and architecture is his hobby whereas Peter is an artist the Kains commission frequently and alcohol is his hobby.

[starry-bi-sky]

what if i wrote a “shen yuan transmigrates into a wife” oneshot but the whole premise is based on the song “gone, i’m gone” from hadestown and its overall theme is wanderlust and freedom and it starts out as Shen Yuan settling into life in the palace and trying to avoid harem drama and thinking he can just live with his head down for the rest of his new life, only to be hit with a sudden intense yearning to explore his new world the likes he’s never felt before. What if he was sickly in his last life. What if he spent his entire last life indoors. Trapped between four walls. What if love is not a gilded cage. What if he begins clawing at the walls of his enclosure, desperate to escape because he wants to live, god please let him live. He can’t do this again. What if he spent months preparing for his escape and in that same breath getting the attention of some of the other wives around him because he has changed and it makes them wary. what if he got binghe’s attention as he is wont to do. What if he left. What if Shen Yuan was born with a bottomless pit in his stomach and a gaping maw in his chest. What if he was starving. What if he was starving for the world around him. What if i wrote that. What then

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: adult content, cheating, shitty fiancé, self-indulgent madness, mdni — notes: i can’t sleep, and @alfredosaws got the gears turning in my head. sorry if this isn’t your jam. i was horny and needed to torture myself. — now playing: see through - amelia moore

Imagine Sylus as your real estate agent, showing you and your fiancé around a potential home.

Your fiancé doesn’t seem too interested, busy typing away on his phone or occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls. You titter nervously, explaining to Sylus with a wry smile that your fiancé is a very busy man.

Still, Sylus continues showing you the rest of the house, pointing out parts that would appeal primarily to you.

“You see here? The master bedroom contains an en-suite bathroom with enough counter space to house all your skincare products. ”

“The bathtub has jets. Perfect for when you want to unwind after a long day on your feet. You look like you shoulder the world. You deserve to take a load off with a warm, soothing bath.”

“The sunroom would be great for your plants. You look like you have quite a green thumb. You strike me as a cultivator. A nurturer. Someone who should learn to sit down from time to time.”

“The counter space in the kitchen is immaculate. Perfect for when the love of your life wants to cook breakfast or have you for dessert.”

He’s so very flattering and handsome, and you find yourself falling prey to his charms. You rein yourself in when your fiancé returns, still as detached about the house as ever. You ask him for his opinion, to which he shrugs you off and remarks that he’s happy if you’re happy. Conveniently, his phone rings again, and he walks outside to take the call.

Sylus gives you a pitying look as if he knows there’s trouble in paradise. You smile awkwardly to dispel his worries.

Sure, your fiancé isn’t always present in your relationship. And maybe you agreed to his proposal out of fear, thinking you would lose out on your white picket fence if you refused him. But, who are you kidding? You haven’t felt like yourself in years. Haven’t genuinely smiled in a very long time, and your fiancé hasn’t helped improve your self-esteem, nitpicking when you’re a little bloated or leave the house without makeup.

You’ve recently caught him entertaining other women on his socials, and he would quickly gaslight you, exclaiming that you were looking for reasons to be upset. Deep down, you know he isn’t good for you, and you deserve better, but a sick part of you believes he is your punishment for some crimes you might’ve committed in a past life.

Sylus has read you like a book, and you’ve only worked with him for two months. You feel more comfortable in his presence than the man you’re about to marry, having known him much longer.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” says Sylus, his voice a sweet, sticky dolce as he takes your hand into his larger one.

He guides you up the spiraling staircase towards the main bedroom and lures you into the massive walk-in closet. And when you’re swathed in the darkness after he shuts the door behind you, he backs you up against a wall, your breaths intermingling whilst his mouth hovers over yours.

“You poor thing,” he whispers next to your ear, the hairs scattered across your body standing on end, pleasant tingles ricocheting through your extremities. He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the cool, textured wall overhead, tenderly twining your fingers together. “That Narcissist doesn’t deserve you, now does he?” His lips graze yours, the sensation making your legs tremble like a fawn.

“I can see it in your eyes.” A weighted palm smooths over your side, a devastatingly powerful knee sliding between the fat of your thighs, pilfering the breath from your lungs. He touches you with a reverence you’ve never known. “You don’t love him, do you? Not when I can touch you like this.”

He takes possession of your jaw, breathing hot and open-mouthed against your lips, nuzzling your noses together. And you’re dizzy, the closet suddenly feeling so cramped, and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of your clothes. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve so much more. I can give you so much more. May I kiss you, sweetling?”

Despite the voice screaming somewhere far off in your mind that this is very much wrong, you find yourself nodding sluggishly in the darkness as if he can see you slowly turning to putty in his palms. He chuckles, the vibrations of it making your tummy flutter like you’re cresting down a hill.

Wordlessly, he pans in, startling you with a gentle kiss at first. Something deft and ghostly, so soft you wouldn’t believe it happened. When you make a gentle keen of protest after he pulls way, he takes that as his cue to kiss you again, this time more firm and full-bodied, the rigid pane of his body slowly anchoring you to the wall. 

Your unoccupied hand slides over his spine, concluding its excursion at the small of his back, and he’s strong here. Sturdy as if he could lift you one-handed if he so pleases. The idea makes you whimper, and he swallows the pretty little noises he invokes, his sweltering tongue pushing into your mouth to map out every ridge and crevice. 

He slips a warm, weighted palm into the crook of your knee, drawing your thigh up to rest on his hip. And, with this new angle, he presses fully against you, the stitching of his slacks scraping pleasantly over the inner cut of your thigh. He releases your hand once moored to the wall to hoist you into his arms, one of your heels clattering to the floor. Ten shaky fingers bury themselves in his hair, sifting through tufts of soft white to draw him ever closer to deepen your lip-lock. 

Despite the spacious closet, it’s growing uncomfortably warm. Too many clothes are in the way, so you tug his shirt from his slacks. Your fingers blindly scramble over his shirt buttons, eager to feel the smooth, supple glide of his skin beneath them. He chuckles something throaty and enrapturing, kissing you velvet-soft as his desire awakens to press against your thigh.

“So eager, aren’t you?” he husks, breaking away from your lips with a sticky click to blister your jaw and carotid with languorous kisses. “Has he ever touched you like this? Kissed you like this?” 

You crane your head back, your skull lightly thudding against the wall behind you. Your lashes shutter. The feeling of his mouth dragging over your skin and his weighted body nestled between your thighs is too much and yet not enough. You cling to his back, your grip white-knuckled, mouth parted slightly with wanton pleas for more more more.

But before he can grant your request, your fiancé’s voice beckons to you through the empty, sturdy walls of the house. The spell that befell you disperses, reality careening in. You push against Sylus’ lean chest with the heel of your palm, panting and gasping, squirming to be let down. Sylus reluctantly heeds you, gently setting you onto your feet. 

He helps you slide back into your discarded heel, kissing your ankle on his way back up, and you try to ignore how your body burns like an inferno at the attention. It takes all of you not to snatch him towards you once more, to kiss him and demand he take you, right then and there, with your fiancé calling for you downstairs. But, as much as it pains you, you feel remorse for how far you already let things go. 

Fixing your clothes and hair to some semblance of neatness in the darkness, the pair of you exit the closet. You don a rehearsed smile, answering your fiancé that you’ll be right down. Searing, slender fingers encircle your wrist before you can descend the stairs. You acknowledge Sylus with a look over your shoulder. He fixes you with a feverish stare that burns like a flame, revealing a deep desire for you. And the realization shoots straight to your center as his mouth draws into an unflinching line. 

Something in your chest pinches and pulls. And for a moment, you consider what your life would be like if you’d given yourself more credit and granted yourself a little more grace. But you brush away your thoughts, fixing Sylus with an unconvincing smile before pulling away from him to descend the stairs into the arms of your loving, soon-to-be husband.