#sometimes I feel like the old artists painting their muse or something

[sehnisweet]

I’ve been working on this art piece on and off since early November and I’m very very happy to finally be finished ✨💫 the hair was a nightmare and in fact I almost abandoned it but I made it through…..I experimented a lot with using pencil brushes for texture and tbh I think that really helped it

[hd-junglebook]

The Art & The Muse

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Artist!Reader

a:n currently spiraling at the moment so don't be shocked if I release five more fanfictions that I wrote 30 minutes before posting with no proof reading. lol.

Masterlist Link

Summary: A struggling artist finds inspiration in the most unexpected place - a painting class which the famous Luke Hughes has joined. y/n is in awe at his beauty, finding herself fascinated by his masculine beauty.

Prologue

word count - 1568

Luke let out a deep sigh as he sank back into the worn leather of his favorite chair, relishing the rare luxury of a day off. No early morning practices, no media obligations, no road trips - just him, his apartment in New Jersey, and the peace and quiet he craved.

Well, almost quiet. Luke could hear the muffled sounds of his older brother Jack clattering around in the kitchen, no doubt raiding the fridge for a snack. Luke rolled his eyes and tried to tune it out, savoring the silence. He loved his brother, but sometimes Jack's boundless energy and enthusiasm could be a bit much, especially on a lazy Sunday like today.

As if on cue, Luke heard Jack's familiar voice echoing down the hallway. "Hey, Lukey! Get your butt out here!"

Luke groaned, resigning himself to the inevitable interruption. "What is it, Jack?" he called back, not bothering to move from his comfortable spot.

Jack appeared in the doorway, mouth half-full of what looked like leftover pizza. "Dude, you need to find a hobby or something. All you do is sit around and talk to girls all day."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Jack gestured emphatically, spraying crumbs. "Go out and find a girlfriend or something. Do something productive for once!"

"Close the door," Luke said tiredly, waving a hand.

Jack just laughed and turned to leave, still chewing noisily. "Whatever, man. Your life is boring."

Luke waited until he heard the click of the door, then let his head fall back with a groan. Sometimes he wondered how he and Jack could be brothers, let alone teammates. While Luke treasured his rare days off to recharge, Jack always seemed to have boundless energy, constantly looking for the next adventure or party.

A girlfriend, huh? Luke mulled over Jack's words. It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea, exactly. He just hadn't felt that spark with anyone lately. Between his grueling hockey schedule and the demands of his public persona, it was hard enough to find the time and energy for a social life, let alone a serious relationship.

Still, maybe Jack had a point. Luke had been feeling a little...stagnant lately. Perhaps it was time to try something new, step outside his comfort zone a bit. With a decisive nod, Luke reached for his phone.

Luke drummed his fingers against his thigh as he scrolled through the endless list of activities and classes, feeling increasingly discouraged.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he skimmed through the options, mentally crossing each one off as it failed to pique his interest.  Maybe Jack was right - he really was in a rut, stuck in the same old routine day after day.

Just as he was about to give up with a heavy sigh, a flash of inspiration caught his eye. An ad for painting classes at a local art studio.

Luke felt a faint tug of nostalgia as he remembered the hours he used to spend painting with his mom back home in Michigan, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as the memories surfaced. It had been years since he'd picked up a brush, but the idea of reconnecting with that creative outlet was strangely appealing.

Intrigued, Luke clicked on the website and started browsing through the class schedules, his blue eyes scanning the page intently. The next session was in just two days - perfect.

Without overthinking it, he quickly signed himself up, a spark of determination lighting in his chest. With a decisive nod, he shut off his phone, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

With a newfound spring in his step, Luke headed out to the living room where he could hear Jack clattering around. "Hey, Jack?" he called out, drawing his younger brother's attention.

Jack poked his head out from the kitchen, mouth full of what looked like leftover pizza. He quirked an eyebrow curiously, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's.

Luke wrinkled his nose in mild disgust at the display, but pressed on. "I, uh, took your advice. I signed up for a painting class that starts in a couple days."

Jack's eyes widened in surprise, a spark of amusement flashing across his features. He let out a bark of laughter, pizza crumbs flying. "Painting? Seriously?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Luke shrugged, feeling a slight twinge of self-consciousness creep up his spine. "Well, I figured it was worth a shot. Gotta try something new, right?"

"Hey, that's great!" Jack grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, his infectious enthusiasm cutting through Luke's lingering doubts. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet some cute girls there or something."

Luke rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's not really why I'm doing it, Jack."

"Sure, sure." Jack winked and grabbed another slice of pizza, seemingly satisfied with the conversation. "Whatever you say, bro."

Luke shook his head fondly and turned to head back to his room, a newfound spring in his step. Maybe this whole "trying new things" thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

…

Luke pulled his beanie down lower over his sandy blond curls as he stepped out onto the street, trying his best to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

He had thrown on his most unassuming outfit - a simple t-shirt, jeans, and a well-worn pair of sneakers - before hesitantly heading out the door, Jack's cheerful "Good luck!" ringing in his ears.

As Luke made his way down the sidewalk, the nerves started to kick in. What was he doing, really? Signing up for an art class on a whim - it was so unlike him.

The old Luke would have scoffed at the very idea, content to spend his rare days off lounging at home or chatting up pretty girls at the local bars. But that Luke felt stale, stuck in a rut. Maybe it was time to try something new.

Still, Luke couldn't help the self-conscious twinge that made him want to turn right back around and high-tail it home. He could already hear Jack's teasing laughter, the endless ribbing he'd have to endure. But Luke steeled his resolve, forcing his feet to keep moving forward. He'd come this far, might as well see it through.

Luke rounded the corner, nearly colliding with an elderly couple out for an afternoon stroll. "Sorry, excuse me," he murmured, deftly sidestepping them.

The last few minutes of his journey passed in a blur, and before he knew it, Luke found himself standing in front of the art studio, its glass door beckoning him inside.

Taking a deep breath, Luke pushed open the door, immediately greeted by the soothing scent of lavender. His eyes swept over the space, taking in the rows of easels and the vibrant paintings adorning the walls. A petite woman with a thick accent approached him, a warm smile on her face.

"Hello, welcome! Can I help you?"

Luke cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "Uh, yeah, hi. I'm Luke - I signed up for the painting class?"

"Ah, yes, of course!" The woman's eyes lit up with recognition. "It's so wonderful to have you join us. I'm Helena, the instructor. Let me show you where you can set up."

As Helena led him over to an open easel, Luke felt a flicker of genuine interest. He followed Helena through the halls of the art studio, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of intimidation.

The walls were practically bursting with vibrant, expertly-crafted paintings - from sweeping landscapes to intricate still lifes. He found himself glancing around in awe, suddenly self-conscious about his own artistic abilities.

Helena continued to speak animatedly, her hands gesturing as she explained the layout of the classroom and the materials available. Luke nodded along, trying his best to appear engaged, but his attention was diverted the moment they passed by a particularly striking piece.

The painting was dark, with soft whites and deep blues creating a moody, almost mystical atmosphere. But what truly captivated Luke was the subject - a male figure, rendered with such realism and attention to detail that it almost looked like a photograph.

The sculpted planes of his muscular torso, the veins in his hands, the play of light and shadow across his skin - every element was meticulously crafted, drawing the viewer in with its hypnotic allure.

Luke found himself stopping in his tracks, unable to tear his gaze away. It was as if the man in the painting had somehow come to life, his masculine beauty radiating off the canvas.

Helena let out a light laugh, drawing Luke's attention back to her. "I see you've noticed one of our more...popular pieces," she said, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

Luke felt a faint heat creep up the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious about his obvious fascination. "Uh, yeah, it's...it's really well done," he stammered, clearing his throat.

"Indeed." Helena gestured towards the open doorway of the classroom. "Shall we? The class is about to begin."

Luke nodded, stealing one last glance at the captivating painting before following Helena into the studio. As he took his seat at the easel, he couldn't help but wonder who the artist was behind such a stunning work. And more importantly, would he have the chance to meet them?

…

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[cypriathus]

Updated: December 23, 2024

My anon name is 🦅🦁 or 🦁🦅

My asks are currently off!

For those who stumble upon my account... Hello and how are ya? You can refer to me as Yume, Dreamy, Floof, JJ, Roving, Gryph or whatever nickname you wanna give me. I'm a genuinely curious individual who sometimes gets obsessed with stuff that I eventually want to get engaged with or stuff that I have no intention of trying out, but I'm very fascinated by it. I'm also just a silly, creative 18-year-old Canadian who's trying to get the most out of life.

My general pronouns are she/her, but I genuinely don't mind you referring to me as they/them and he/him.

Some of my hobbies include writing, drawing, listening to music, reading novels and manga, watching YouTube, occasionally watching movies, TV shows or anime, and baking once in a blue moon. For those wondering what kind of art I do, I've primarily been doing a lot of digital artwork as of now. However, I have been using traditional mediums (acrylic paint, markers, coloured pencils, and regular ol' pencils) for many years now. You can find most of my current artworks that I have shared on my Instagram account. Before we move on with other stuff about me, some of my interests include psychology, sociology, criminology, law, biology, outer space, mythology, folklore, legends, religion, history, internet mysteries, and lost media.

My StrawPage!

My Tumblr family!

(The userboxes above are made by @custom-userboxes! Go check her out if you haven't done so yet!)

(The userbox above is made by @the-coral-collective! Go check them out!)

I listen to a myriad of music artists including:

Muse

Set It Off

System Of A Down

Tally Hall

Citizen Soldier

Fall Out Boy

Finger Eleven

Get Scared

Avenged Sevenfold

Sick Puppies

Hoobastank

Infected Musroom and so much more

I have watched a lot of anime and there are still some I need to get around to watching eventually. Some of these anime include:

Cat Soup

Ergo Proxy

FLCL

Perfect Blue

Tokyo Godfathers

Neon Genesis Evangelion

Kaiba

Haibane Renmei

Outlaw Star

Now and Then, Here and There

Serial Experiments Lain

Summer Wars

Belle

Angel's Egg

Most Studio Ghibli movies

Cowboy Bebop

Metropolis

Steamboy

The Tatami Galaxy

Mind Game

Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms

Mononoke and so much more

Non-anine movies and TV shows that I remember watching:

Breaking Bad franchise

Seven

American History X

Coraline

ParaNorman

Mad God

Schindler's List

Final Space

Cliffhanger

Del Toro's Pinocchio

Tetsuo: The Iron Man

Possum

The Mask

The Wedding Singer

Labyrinth

The Dark Crystal

Lord of War

Midsommar

Hereditary

Scarface

Monty Python and the Holy Grail & Monty Python's Life of Brian

Silence of the Lambs

Popee the Performer

Mr. Stain on Junk Alley

And many more

Some manga and books that I have currently read are:

Homunculus

Chainsaw Man

AKIRA

The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún

The Ancient Magus' Bride

Dandadan

Trigun and Trigun Maximum

Bibliomania

Heads

Goodbye, Eri

Look Back

Yogen no Nayuta

Eden: It’s An Endless World

Keyman: The Hand of Judgement

Shigahime

Rojica to Rakkasei

BLAME!

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

Animal Farm

The Green Mile

Salem's Lot

Lord of the Flies

The Catcher in the Rye

To Kill a Mockingbird

The Complete Tales of H. P. Lovecraft and more

Rules:

I would like to stay anonymous for the most part, so don't pry me for certain information that I don't feel comfortable sharing. I'll only share bits and pieces of my life if I feel comfortable with you.

Don't ask me for pictures of myself or I'll block you immediately!

Don't be rudely judgemental

Don't send anon hate

Don't say discriminatory and sexually disgusting things

Don't threaten me

Don't ask me for money/donations or I'll ignore you

Don't ask me to reblog something from you or I'll ignore you

Don't send me asks regarding real world crises or I'll ignore you

Don't mention pre-existing fictional characters or other forms of media through the comments, reblogs, and inbox.

Don't recommend me pieces of media I should watch and/or read because that gets under my skin really badly as I view it as a threat to my independence and freedom of choice.

If you want to provide constructive criticism, give me more than one thing to work off of because it'll give more of an opportunity to grow.

Do not interact with me if you're one of the following (I'll add more if needed):

Pedophile

Anti-LGBTQ+

Racist

Sexist/misogynistic

Ageist

Ableist

Pro-Israel

Misandrist

Islamophobic

Someone who invalidates a person's pronouns, gender, and/or identity

Someone who supports, participates, tolerates, and/or justifies any of the above.

That's most of the stuff you need to know about me as of now. Anyways, as I mentioned in the description, I plan on using this blog as a way to share various ideas in regards to my personal writing projects. I'm open to listening to your ideas, sharing new ideas, and even constructive criticism! I hope you enjoy your stay here and I can't wait to share my ideas with y'all!

I have a side blog where I roleplay, make moodboards, and post stuff that ain't related to my work: @floofgryph

I have a Metal Slug blog: @thesilliestrovingalive

I have a roleplay blog: @beautyinafruitfulworld

Writing Projects:

Masterpost for the Iron Eclipse AU (Metal Slug)

[clementine-side-blog]

Eli Sunday SFW Headcanons (Modern AU)

Summary: My personal Eli Sunday SFW headcanons. Keep in mind that I set this in a modern AU because I'm a lazy piece of shit that doesn't like to write in any other time except for modern <3

(Read Below For Headcanons. These might be a little controversial to some people, but I hope at least SOME of you like them. So, yeah...)

Personality:

He is very soda (I accidentally typed this while talking to my friend about soda, but it's so funny that I decided to keep it in)

I personally think that he is not that religious. I know that might be insane to say, but let me explain...

In the movie, he doesn't really seem that into religion. Every time he is giving a sermon, preaching, or absolving someone of their sins, he is ALWAYS making a show of it. He's putting all the attention on himself. Because of this, I feel like he only became a priest so HE could be worshipped. He hates his family, he's embarrassed by his father, and he wants to be the center of attention. Eli couldn't give a shit about religion, he just wants people to be dependent and look up to him. He just used the religion as a facade to get what he wanted.

I like to believe that he was a priest for a while, but got so sick and tired of it. He also hated his family, feeling forced into religion, so he moved away and went to California, then went to college and became a professor.

His weird experience with religion is what caused him to go into the profession of Religion Studies. It fascinates him.

In modern AU, I do not think he would be a priest. I feel that he would be a professor at a university who teaches Religious Studies (so basically he teaches about different religions and how it applied in history and stuff like that)

I think in the movie he's around 23 (at least thats how old paul was during the time it came out) so I'm gonna say he's like 27 in my headcanons.

Very arrogant/egotistical asf

He really doesn't even have a personality, like I'm being so fr. Most of the time he's very monotone and emotionless. You're the only one that can get any type of emotion out of him.

He lives life like an NPC in a video game.

In a relationship with someone, he acts the same as he normally is. He's not any less arrogant/egotistical. If he's going to be in a relationship with someone, he wants them to think highly of him.

He's a good boyfriend, but he also can be a bit toxic sometimes. Like he has a God/Superiority complex, so I mean, he's going to be toxic asf...

BUT, if he's in a relationship with you, he also has the need to protect/care for you. He's honestly a very sweet man, he's just arrogant.

He takes a lot of pride in his appearance. The only time he's underdressed is when he is at home. Any other time, he has his hair styled and dresses nicely. He has a skin care routine.

He HATES getting dirty.

Hobbies:

I struggle to see this dude having hobbies, but...

I feel like he would like painting. It seems like he wants to be in control of stuff, or at least feel like a God, and of course creating something would make him feel like that.

He's actually a very good artist and will paint/draw you if you ask him. He also uses you as his muse.

Eli doesn't listen to music that much, so he doesn't really have a fav genre. He'll listen to whatever you listen to honestly.

He isn't that big of a fan of TV, so just like music, he'll watch whatever you watch. Though he does like documentaries, especially about history.

The only movies he really likes are stop motion movies. There's just something about them that he loves so much. He also loves Tim Burton movies.

Random:

His favorite color is red.

His favorite holiday is Halloween. Even though there's nothing wrong with the holiday, his family never celebrated it since they were insanely religious. Since he moved away, he's able to experience it! He loves it so much and dresses up every year. He'll do couples costumes with you.

Even though he doesn't listen to music that much, he really likes the song Solway Firth by Slipknot, and the meaning behind it.

He really likes cuddling. He may not seem like it, but he does.

He's cold and heartless to literally everyone else except for you. You're his soft spot. He loves you SO fucking much.

He acts like a 40 year old man even though he's in his mid twenties.

He is absolutely horrible with technology and you're constantly having to teach him how to do things.

[bluestar22x]

A Splash Of Red

A Splash Of Red: A Baby Fever Oneshot

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female!Reader

Summary: You met him at an art gallery

Rating: 13+ but it's a really innocent oneshot

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,292

Author's Note: I was going to wait until I had this series up and running for this oneshot but it spoke to me today. If you want you can read this as a standalone.

xxx

Why not? you'd thought.

You were standing in front of a small time art gallery for novices in the heart of Washington D.C., your hometown, with nothing better to do. Your best and only true friend was working the night shift at her job so you'd been stuck alone, wandering the streets for something to occupy your time as the sun set.

You weren't exactly an art connoisseur, but you did like looking at art on occasion in museums, and you did spend a good portion of your childhood drawing. You couldn't say you'd been gifted, but it counted as something, right?

So you'd paid the entrance fee and wandered about the large room, eyeing the paintings on the white walls carefully like the rest of the patrons inside.

Most of them were landscapes or fruit bowls, what you considered typical beginner stuff, though you had to admit to yourself they were a lot better than what you could ever muster up in your mandatory art class in high school.

There were a few portraits of people you did not recognize, probably relatives or friends of the artists, that truly did impress you, the details in the color of their skin and the lifelike hair not going unappreciated, but there was one painting that really confounded you.

The only word to describe it was color. It was just swirls of black and gray and white with hints of blue. All dull, except for the big splash of bright red smeared over it, an inch in width, spanning from the lower left of the painting to the middle right.

You stared at it, wondering what could compel a grown adult to throw a few layers of paint on a board and call it art. You could do a better job, you thought.

Money, you mused. You knew if the artist got famous, a painting like this would be well sought after and on occasion sold for millions. Rich people paintings.

You shook your head.

"Not impressed?" Someone with a deep voice asked from behind you.

They stepped forward, beside you, inches away from your left shoulder, and you glanced at them.

He was tall, and handsome, was your first thought. Overdressed for this particular gallery, in a black suit and tie, a white dress shirt, and black dress shoes. The man's dark brown hair was cut on the shorter side but was long enough to flop a little over his forehead, and he sported a well-trimmed beard. The neatness of the trim almost hid the patchiness of it, but you still noticed a few of the spots that stubbornly refused to grow hair. It was cute. You personally thought imperfections like that added character. Most guys didn’t have full beards anyway.

You were studying him for so long you almost forgot to reply to his question. "I don't know if I'm into art enough to be able to appreciate this kind," you finally told him. "It just looks like something a five year old would make in their spare time."

The man chuckled. "Yeah, I guess sometimes it does. Abstract Expressionism is certainly not for everyone."

Though his tone was light and kind, you felt dread as something awful occurred to you. "Oh my god, you're not the artist, are you?"

Please, please, don't be, you begged silently. You'd die of embarrassment if he was. You hated hurting other people’s feelings over something as trivial as art styles.

He grinned at your concern and you were briefly able to focus on how gorgeous and contagious it would be to you if you weren't so worried over possibly having criticized his artwork in one of the worst possible ways.

"You're safe," he assured you. "I'm just an observer here too."

You pressed a hand over your heart, massively relieved. "Thank god. I'm not trying to be mean; I just truly don't get it."

"It's alright," he said. "I didn't get it either at first."

"But you do now?" you prompted. You were curious what he had to say about the painting.

He pointed to the red streak. "Red over dark colors. The artist is expressing a dark mood, most likely depression, tinged with anger."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "That's such a basic answer," you said boldly. "And it's wrong."

"Oh?" The man raised his eyebrows and nodded at you to go on.

"Pretty sure it is depression in the background, but that splash of red is love," you answered confidently.

"How can you be sure?" he inquired, apparently impressed by your conviction on the topic.

"There's more lighter grays and white around the streak of red suggesting that color is brightening the darkness around it," you pointed out cleverly. "And the nameplate says this is Love Through The Dark."

You smirked. You'd noticed the name of the painting while he was busy explaining what he personally saw in the work.

He belly laughed. It was loud, but pleasant to your ears. "Pretty and smart."

Your heart fluttered at being called pretty by him. Being called smart was nice too, but you got called smart a lot more than pretty, and being called pretty by him in particular was pleasing. It also made the conversation clearer to you. You hadn't been sure until then that his intentions for you were something beyond small talk about the painting.

You turned to him and smiled. "I try."

"Well, you succeeded," he told you, before extending his right hand out to you. "I'm Marcus. Marcus Pike."

His hand dwarfed yours when you shook it and said your name to him.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, still smiling warmly at you. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner with me sometime? We could exchange phone numbers and decide on when and where through text?"

You were caught off guard by his forwardness and you hesitated long enough his expression turned into one of insecurity. He brushed a hand through his hair. "Sorry if that was too upfront."

"No, no," you said quickly, flashing a smile to reassure him. "It's refreshing. I hate how society makes it feel like we have to dance around questions like that for an hour. Especially since I would like to go on a date with you, Marcus. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Of course." He pulled it out of his back pocket as you drew yours out from your purse. His was an iPhone like yours, but several generations older. You tended to keep up with the trends of technology, if being one year behind counted (the discounts were decent) but he apparently had little concern about that.

You both swapped numbers, writing them into your contract lists, and put your phones back away.

"Well, I better get going," Marcus declared a moment later, his tone regretful. He was truly sorry about it. "I have to get up early for work in the morning."

"That must suck," you figured, showing him sympathy.

He shrugged. "Depends on what the day entails. I enjoy my job for the most part, even if it takes up some of my weekends. And…I'll tell you more about it on our date."

You grinned. He was holding out on you, like you needed more reason to go on that date. "Alright. I'll text you later, after I think of the best day for it."

"And I'll text you with location ideas," he told you.

"Perfect."

He backed off and you exchanged waves before he strolled away towards the front door.

You watched him go, not shy about starring at his...assets, even though you were in public.

Cute, you concluded.

You were really going to look forward to that date.

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[upupandawcy]

(ALBA BAPTISTA, CIS-FEMALE, SHE/HER) - is LUZIA OLIVEIRA late to class again? how does the 21 year old FRESHMAN expect to get their degree in ART? professors say that they are QUIRKY but i heard that they are IMPULSIVE. hopefully they’ll make it to graduation! - gray, 30+, est, she/they

SPORTS & CLUBS: lgbtqia+ club. art club. theatre ( prop/set design )

STATS;

name: luzia isabela oliveira nicknames: luz, lilo pronouns: she/her age: 21 birthdate: apr 11th zodiac sign: aries sun. cancer moon. pisces rising sexuality: pansexual major: art major positive traits: romantic. creative. bold. compassionate. volatile. temperamental. sensitive. self-centered. sports & clubs: lgbtqia+ club. art club. theatre ( prop/set design )

DETAILS;

Luz comes from a warm and loving family of nine. yep. Nine. she’s the fifth of seven kids and is sandwiched between two sets of twins. 

She’s adopted, but it wasn’t something that was kept from her. Her mother died of complications just after childbirth and Bruno, her mother’s brother, and his wife, Angelina, took her in and raised her as their own. She’s never felt othered by her parents though there is some discourse between her and her “siblings” from time to time. 

Being the first girl, she was spoiled quite a bit. Sort of. It became clear the older she became the less she wanted to be treated differently than her brothers. She was the embodiment of the ‘one of the boys’ tropes. She loved being outside, fishing, getting dirty and fighting. Whatever the boys could do, she could do better. 

It wasn’t until the second set of twins came along that Luz began to settle a bit. She stopped worrying about keeping up and started going at her own pace. 

She’s a handful. Everything she feels, she feels deeply and sometimes suddenly. Her attention span typically falls on the short side or she’s so engaged in something, she loses herself in it. 

Art is a major outlet. Painting, sculpting, dance, poetry, you name it, she’s dabbled in it. She is always always drawing, if only to keep her hands busy. If you’ve been in the commons, library or quad the same time as her, you’re probably in one of her sketch books.

School wasn’t as difficult for her as one might think. She got the grades, it just took a looooot of refocusing. Lots of turning in work late or doing the bare minimum only to bring it up at the very end. Teachers either love or hate her. 

Actually most people love or hate her. And she’s ok with that. She’s not out here trying to make everyone like her. She doesn’t believe in liking everyone either. But she tries to at least be respectful/amicable. Until you piss her off. In that case, it’s not great.

She can get loud, her anger coming in the form of saying shit she doesn’t mean, throwing things, storming off and most iconically tears. She’s gotten a better hold of her temper in later years, developed a longer fuse, but every now and then….

Boxing and martial arts helped. And you know, regular art.

She’s sold some paintings in her home town and some around the globe. Not anything insane but it was enough that she didn’t head off to college right away. Instead she traveled around the states, living out of her car or motels, creating.

She chose Timber Creek because of its art program, though she really doesn’t know what she’ll do with an actual degree. She just kinda wanted to see what she was missing and she doesn’t hate it. She hopes to kinda figure out some sort of ambition here. Though to be honest, she’s not sure she’ll last long enough to actually graduate.

WANTED CONNECTIONS;

can I say everything?

a best friend. artist buddies. unlikely friends. drinking buddies. muses. positive influences. a tutor.

annoyances. frienemies. oil & water. bad vibes

flirts. one night stands. fwbs. crushes. ewb. make out buddies. dates. once you have her attention it can be intense but she falls in and out of feelings quickly. wants to find that person though and isn't afraid of trying on every shoe till one fits

like this and i'll come to you for some plotting.

[runningracingdancingchasing]

YOUR MUSE'S INVENTORY. [original meme from @treasurechestrpmemes​.]

rules: list the things your muse carries in their pockets or bags in their every day life. (optional: explain their significance.) repost, don’t reblog.

For the sake of the meme, I’m going with modern AU version. She doesn’t have pockets in canon, even though I know she’d love them.

POCKETS.

Phone - Rapunzel’s phone case is one she designed herself. She has several, all with her own art on them. Despite it not being the style anymore, she always alters her phone cases to allow for charms, and tends to keep a golden sun charm and a feather on each case. The variety of feather is different, depending upon the case its on. It never matches, but contrasts, to add more color.

Something she found on the ground - She’s a magpie, and anything that’s shiny, interesting, colorful, or artistically useful will go straight into her pocket (unless it’s in her hair). Every day, she empties her pockets and sorts through her new treasures. Some of them get permanently moved to her bag

Keys - Be they car keys, door keys, or old fashioned antique-looking keys that she claims opens a magic treasure box, Rapunzel always carries at least one key in her pockets.

Lip balm - She prefers bees wax lip balm, and that tends to work better if it’s a little warmed up. Keeping it in her pocket keeps it at an ideal temperature for application.

Something to tie her hair back with - Whether it’s a ribbon, rubber band, scrunchy, leather strip, string of beads or whatever, she’s always got something in her pocket to pull her hair back with, including a few bobby pins for when she finds something she wants to put in her hair that just won’t stay put.

Card wallet - rather than carrying her money in her obvious purse, she keeps a small card wallet in her pocket. There’s cash in the back of it, too, for tips and charity.

Worry stone - She has a chunk of perfectly clear tumbled quartz that’s the perfect shape for holding between her first two fingers and thumb. One plane of it has the slightest of indents in it, and she uses it as a fidget, rubbing her thumb against the indented plane.

BAG. — She calls it her Adventure Bag. It’s teal, and can easily be worn either on one shoulder or cross-body. She’s painted all over it, and hangs decorations from the O rings.

Sungalsses - Though she likes to see the world with her own eyes, and although she loves the sun, sometimes it’s just too bright and she needs her shades. 

Pocket transfers - after sorting through her pockets at the end of the day, some things get moved to her bag, either temporarily or long-term. These are usually things like small rocks she wants to keep with her, buttons, charms, or feathers she wants to add to her bag decoration.

Sketch pad and pencil - An artist on the go  still needs to draw, and when she’s out and about, she prefers the mechanical method, rather than digital.

Small lined notebook and pen - To make quick lists or jot down ideas she has while out and about.

Brush - Even when her hair is short, she never got out of the habit of carrying a brush with her.

Small flashlight - You never know when adventure will lead you to a dark place!

Sunblock - For those days when the UV index is just too high to feel good.

First aid kit - From bandages to antiseptic spray to a tourniquet, Rapunzel is prepared to come across injuries.

Snacks - Usually nuts, granola bars, fruit snacks, or other non-perishables.

[ducknotinarow]

Rhodes - Family Meme; all that apply uwu and yes the mum one does include Karine as well >:)

Talking about family

"You want me to talk about my family? Whatever not like it's gonna be all that interesting...wait I have to talk about her too? fucking...fine fine whatever."

Send 👔 for my muse to talk about their father

"Dad was different when I was younger compared to now,we just aint like we used to be when I was a kid. He was the one to tell me to put school first but he also was the one that got me into music too. I remember listening to all those old rock bands together and him taking me to music stores to start my own record collection. I guess starting a new family with his old one around still? I dunno changed him I guess. Despite custody mostly going towards him? I felt shut out. Sometimes I wonder if he rather I'd be with my mom more or fully so he could devote all his time to his new family now instead." As Rhodes stated his love for music was started by his father Derek. Who introduced Rhodes to 80's rock bands which are his favorites, especially glam rock bands. Have a lot to do for his taste in music. Rhodes won't really admit to it but of course the divorce effected him deeply. His happy home tearing apart and to Rhodes his father pulled away from him as well. Rhodes relationship with Derek has really just worsened over the years. In part Rhodes knows his father just wants the best for him but its hard to always see that when your father seems so against something that brings you a lot of joy. Music was what truly helped Rhodes get through his parents divorce playing out how he was feeling as a way to express the hurt and confusion that kind of situation brings only to have his father reduce it being nonsense? Even with Rhodes seeming to comply with his father's choice he never really did. He still collects records, he takes part in school events that let him play music to some extent. Even the way he dresses and wear make up is meant as a show of rebel towards his father.

Safe to say Rhodes and his fathers relationship? is very likely to go low contact once he graduates from school. He kind of has a fantasy of applying to the best school. And the night of his party to celebrate? he going to pull out an amp and his new guitar tear up the letter to say he aint going before shreading "we'er not gonna take it"

Despite this Rhode in part dose try and excuse a lot of his fathers actions. He still trying to protect his younger self in a sense. He likes to think one day his dad and him can be close again but the damage may be too much to turn back on.

Send 👚 for my muse to talk about their mother

"I love my mom, shes a for real hippie, she always wearing these crazy patterns on her clothes all in tune with emotions and such. She talks a lot about auras and whatever else I don't fully understand it like at all. But it's like the first thing she'll tell about someone is what color their Aura was and such. Mom's always had my back, when you think of biggest supporter my mom fits the bill. She's the only one of my parents to know I'm gay. She's even met past guys I've dated. Mostly upset I never stick to anyone, she blames herself for that. And well I hate that she blames herself for much. I tend not to tell her any issues going on at my Dad's cause to her it's her fault I'm in the situation I am. She isn't doing it to seem like the victim my mom just like that. She also is way to on board with me liking Buddy and Charlie, she was the one who brought up all three us dating in truth. Like I said shes a hippie so you know any stereo type you can think with that she fits with. Mom's also the best artist ever. Biased and not Biased included. She not afraid to just try something, she mostly excels in mix media art combine stuff together. She sells a lot of art she makes at the farmer market. Stuff for like garden decor wind chimes, stone mosaics. She makes paints as well, she really just found her love for art and full went into it...and I want to be the same with music. I miss that feeling I used to get with it. And well she just makes everything better. Sometimes just calling her up on the phone is enough to make any interaction with fucking bitch ass Karine not as bad. Speaking of her, where do I even start? I don't even understand what Dad sees in that women shes nothing like mom." "She and I didn't always click when Dad did finally introduce me to his new girlfriend, I mean she seemed nice enough even bought me a gift. But that was just to get brownie points with my Dad I'm sure. She thinks she knows everything which she doesn't and she LOVES when I point out when she is wrong. I think it was about the second time Dad had the three of us hang out when I decided I didn't like her. Dad stepped away well we met up for a meal. A diner place, I liked cause we used to go all the time which was why we went there. They severed 'happy face pancakes' on the kids menu of course that's what I wanted. Dad wouldn't care. But the waiter came by when he was away and Karine decided I shouldn't eat that. Sure I sound petty but that has pretty much set a precedent. Karine don't even like me, once she got her own kid she became way more obvious with it. That women gets pissed at any need I have. School meetings, after school stuff, doctor appointments. I don't get why she married a man that had a kid if she was gonna be such a bitch about it." As you can see Rhodes loves his mother more than anyone, she really has set an impossible standard. He finds her way of being to be weird but its said through affection. He likes the weird ones cause of his mom. I'd say his mother has really shape a lot of how he is why he can be so laid back and passionate why creative outlets mean so much and help him the most. His mother to him is the one who put more time and effort into him when his life was falling apart. meanwhile it felt like his dad was leaving him behind. And considering the women he would later move on to? It didn't really help in the slightest. Karine and Rhodes are not on the same page at all either. Part of Rhodes knows somehow she makes his Dad happy so he kind of suffers for his sake. Sadly this continues to be a tread.

Send 🤜 for my muse to talk about (one of) their sibling(s)

"Yeah I got a little half-sister, her name is Erin. She's mixed like me but looks more like a pigeon as well, good thing to or she also be a horrible canadian goose like Karine." He sighs a moment but smiles "But nah Erin a good kid by some miracle. Shes very shy, unless i'm around than shes talking none stop. I don't mind it though I know how it feels to be kind of ignored as a kid. She well pretty much what you expect a kid her age. She likes dolls, she likes pink she loves to hang out with me when i'm home. Karine hates it cause I teach her things. Erin's at the stage where she very much a sponge. Karin really hated it when she was walking around singing the lyrics to Burn in hell. I guess sometimes my feelings can be a bit complicated. I mean at first I didn't want to be her brother...to me it was more proof my parents would never get back together. Somehow I didn't think a kid wouldn't mean my Dad and Karine could divorce as well. I wanted to hate Erin. But...I guess I started to see how she was like me. And I didn't have anyone to be there for me. So I decided to be there for her...its why I don't get the custody changed So, i'm with mom more. Erin needs me."

Rhodes is a bit of a doting older brother to Erin, like himself she took after Derek and is a pigeon like Rhodes. As admitted Rhodes wasn't thrilled when he was told about getting a baby sister. At the time he was still holding out hope for his parents to get back together and everything to go back to how it was. But seeing how excited his Dad was about a baby on the way? It sort of finalized everything to him. He was prett distant with her for years. Keeping to himself he wanted nothing todo with her. But Even Rhodes is immune to a cute little chick saying his name as her first word. Erin is very close to Rhodes. Karine isn't to no surpise, a great mom pretty much expects a kid to be a little adult. Erin is nerd non-verbal cause she tends to be worried about upsetting Karine. Rhodes more laid back personalty however makes her feel more at ease. Rhodes tends to help her with her homework, they have a bit of gap between them in age. Rhodes is 15 where Erin is only five herself. He knows she has a bit of a rough time when hes not home well with his mom. When he is at his Dad he tends to be the target for her mother. Not that Karine is as bad as she is with Rhodes but shes not patient with Erin. So he worries a bit when it comes to her. But they get along pretty well he doesn't even mind babysitting her and hopefully his boyfriends don't mind her crashing dates at times.

Send 🎣 for my muse to talk about (one of) their aunt(s)/uncle(s) Future in laws

Im the mun i'm cheating uwu in a sens eit counts cause they are like family uwu.

"Hmm I'm a fan of Bailey, hes real cool actually and he understand the whole step monster thing. It's kind of nice to not be made to feel like I'm just being some dumb kid when it comes to Karine. Bailey don't make me feel that way at least. Richard's a pretty quite guy himself, but the times I talk to him its clear he has a passion for what he dose. He's kind of dork but it's also kind of cool just how much passion he has for something as simple as making coffee. I guess when they say do something you love that's what they mean? Together? They are grossly in love for sure. Not in a bad way but it explains why Bubbles is way he is. Maple reminds me of my mom a bit more so that once she got an idea you cant really talk her out of it. Shes very nice and welcoming though you pretty get told your coming to dinner and its clear she wants you around. Jasper is more clam himself, he also seems just as welcoming hes got a nice clam air to him. I can see how those two took up raising Chippy." Im the mun I can do what I want XD, Rhodes is still getting to know the other adults, I feel he'll be closest to Bailey of course due to Bailey offering to talk to him with his step-mom issues. And since Bailey basically made his family home open for Rhodes to hide away at when needed? I feel he'll be pretty close to them. He likes all the adults and I feel he feels safe around any of the four of them if his mother isn't around. he isn't used to adults outside him mom treating him as well not an issue so it's just a nice change of pace for him.

Send 🐾 for my muse to talk about (one of) their pet(s)

"I don't have any pets at my Dad's. Karine got a thing about pets, but I did get a pet when my mom moved to St.Canard. She insisted on me needing company when she wasn't around. But I gotta say she is right Joan is the sweetest and chillest Lizard ever after all." I just see Rhodes having a pet but he have a bit out of the norm pet like a reptile of some sort. Joan is his pet lizard, as stated, she is a bearded dragon named after the singer Joan Jett which is her full name. She answers to Joan, Jett, Joan Jett and Jetty.Rhodes handles her well enough to let her rest on his shoulders. She sometimes likes to perch around his neck even well he cleans her tank. He's had her for a few years so she trusts Rhodes to care for her. Rhodes likes to spoil her a little when he can, getting her the best food, or even things to play with so he makes sure her tank has pleantly of things for her to explore and keep her interest. He often takes her out as well when he dose homework or practices on his instruments. Rhodes had her just a bit before his parents divorce, Karine didn't like her so his mom took her. So Rhodes wouldn't have to lose his pet.

[willknightauthor]

To give a brief example of the meaning of the text:

The last stanza summarizes the whole thing in 3 lines. The first line is an allusion to Plato's alegory of the cave, so it's depicting the world as one of illusion--an artistic illusion, but an illusion.

Following from that depiction of debased art ("lowly picture"), "dunya" paints the speaker's back. The painting sounds gentle, but the clear meaning is the lashing of a whip. If "dunya" is an externalized force, this implies enslavement to the world, but if it's abstract, this is talking about self-flagellation, self-inflicted suffering. "Dunya" is specifically the Islamic concept of "the world" in the sense of "worldly," the immediate, illusory aspect of existence--wealth, power, fame, ego, self.

The second line establishes the image of art being imprinted on the speaker, and shifts the allusion from a Greek one to an Islamic one. The last line pivots the 2nd line on its head by switching from the concept of "dunya" to "fitra": the divine nature of the human being, which strives towards righteousness and wisdom, the part that seeks God. It can be confused or corrupted by our experiences in the world (i.e. dunya), but it is originally good, and it always allows for us to turn toward truth.

The lover's lips write on the speaker's fitra, which means either kisses or speech, and what they write is scripture. So unlike dunya, which inflicts suffering and draws us toward illusion, the lover reminds our true self of its divine calling. Both the world and the divine, personified as the lover, shape us, remake us, and in that process we move dialectically between degradation and elevation.

This also relates to the old theological question in Islam of the nature of the Quran--is it created, or uncreated? The consensus for most of history has been uncreated, because the Quran talks about itself being "sent," being "received," never made. But that opened up the question of the relationship between the Quran and the Divine Essence. The resolution to that debate was that the meaning of the Quran, the idea of it, is eternal and part of God, even if the specific instantiation of it in writing or speech is temporal. It also reflects Muhammad's self-reported experience of revelation, that it came from outside himself and then was burned into him--painfully--such that he could never forget it.

Given the divine nature of the fitra, scripture being written onto it places the speaker in the position of prophet, and the lover in the position of Gabriel or God. The lover is placing eternal knowledge/meaning onto the eternal part of the speaker, and since both are eternal really it's an act of reawakening, not creation.

This summarizes the theme of the whole poem: though we're mired in illusion, suffering, and doubt, when we taste divine love through the specific--a person, a place, a moment--it reminds us of who we are and who we're supposed to be, and elevates us to partake in the divine and become conduits for it. We know divine love through our love for each other.

It also continues the confusion of who the lover actually is, who the speaker is speaking to. Sometimes the speaker seems to be speaking to God as though a lover, then asks God as a 3rd party for the lover. Sometimes they speak to the lover in absentia, only to then be speaking directly to the lover present. The speaker's status moves from total abjection to complete exultation just before the last stanza.

That reflects my own confusion when writing it, and I don't think it's meant to be clear. Writing this honestly did feel like something was working through me. (I understand the idea of the Muses now.) I had no idea where it was going, but it felt like it was meant to go there once I reached it. I think the point’s that the distinction between the mortal lover and the divine is non-dual. That feels correct.

So it starts with the lover being more obviously divine, and the speaker grovelling for guidance. Then it moves to the lover being a real person. Then it's speaking to God asking for the lover. And then the poem becomes the speaker being the elevated conduit for the divine that the lover (or all others, potentially) seeks. Then it ends with the speaker and the lover together, seeking God through each other, with less desperation or arrogance, and more tenderness.

BLASPHEMY

[raccoon0001]

November 20th, Monday 20:38

So, first of all, hello, Im Raccoon, well at least i would like to be one. Im 17 years old and i frequently write down my thoughts when i feel sad or angry in a pink notebook by my bed, for the past four maybe three years.

And lately i have been thinking of just trying to write down my thoughts everyday, about how i feel, to know what i am even feeling, and that I'm not just overwhelmed and impulsive at the moment. So i don't ruin my next week or day by obsessing over that one boy that smiled that one time at me or was funny. Because in reality he doesn't like me and i need to step down and realise that, but maybe he does and everything is not a big fat lie, but it is. At least for me, mostly. Everything, almost, everything is fine in my life, except for being kinda fat and not having a real, single boyfriend in my 17 years of living. I know that is not that much and what i am even worrying about, because i have the whole life ahead of me(i dont see myself living past 20). Well could kind of imagine it, but because of one thing and another i always thought i would not live past 18, but now i am 17 so its quite possible i will live past 18, dont really know what will happen afterwards.

Its kind of a dilemma i know to love someone u need to first love yourself and shit, but i really hate myself most of the time, i hate how i look, i hate how lazy i am, i hate stressful i am, i hate how sick i am...yada yada yada. I know there are physical things i am able to fix, but how do i know i just wont regress? Even now im imagining how this blog or whatever this is, is gonna get popular, and be turned into inspiration for poems or people, but after all this text is just my personal feelings, about myself, for myself, that dont really make sense sometimes, because my native language is not english lol and im typing in a hurry and then gonna prob put a pretty background or something and post it if i get the courage, well its a very big probability nobody is going to read this ever, bcs lets honest who reads blogs these days..

always the artist never the muse" i have been very attached to this quote(dont know who is the author) i even begun last year attending professional art school, so i will probably never be the muse even how much i want to be one. Its almost the same with taking pictures, im always taking pictures of others and there are almost never anyone taking picture of me without asking. Well i dont really like people specially taking pictures of me, because of how ugly i look, but still, i dont know. Theres this one friend who takes pictures of me, because that of other things that that person does makes me think im gay or that she likes me, because shes gay. I think im not gay. Like i would prefer a guy fucking my brains out not a girl, but i could never imagine anyone fucking me, mby i can.. hmm not rly, maybe because i have never been fucked, or my imagination is kinda weak. Well i am in art school so i thought it should be good, but lately, well after that thing in 2018 april, I think i have been in this one giant art block. Maybe i need to go to a therapist, to sort things out, not really sure.

I wish sometimes i was a boy. And i think i stink right now, fully emotionally and physically. Whats up with that.

I must have too many dreams and too little motivation.

I dont think i should have continued art, its too much, im not even good at painting, if i actually started practicing more maybe i would, but i think im still worse than most of my peers. And in this school there are mostly girls here and i know almost nobody outside the school and town bcs i didnt even live here two years ago, the ppl who have lived here their whole childhood dont even know where to turn to get a shortcut!

My goal this evening was to paint something, but somehow i started writing a blog..

I think i should have been better of dying that day in 2018. Im not good of a person and i dont really know if ill ever change. What does actually happen after death? Has anyone thought of that? I kind of think after you die its just all pitch black and then u suddenly open your eyes and there you are as your first memory u can think of at 10 years old or whatever, like 'snap' and there you are, but dont know who you were or who you will be. I kind of want to get into biology, but idk if a have the commitment for it.

Two days ago when i was a home visiting my family, after sauna, I was sitting by the table with some other cousins at my grandmas house and one of the older cousins, who was kinda drunk btw, asked me if i had a boyfriend, i thinking already of crying and just jumping down a building calmly said: "no, do i need one?". i want one.

I think my mom is homophobic, but. i also think that im not gay, but i will probably never get a bf, because ppl these days are very obsessed by how other ppl look from the outside mostly or i just dont know a lot of ppl and real life is not like the movies or manga that i read in my free time, that i should stop reading, maybe that would solve everything.

Also by wishing that i was a male, because it really seems to be bit easier to be a boy, how the world looks at you, and how theres a lot more chance of no rejection. Maybe im just living in my small minded world and have not that many ppl with different opinions on life that would make me understand that the world works differently. A lot of ppl around me also believe we are born to fulfil our one mission here on earth, i still dont see mine here, like ppl would be fine if i went and died and go on with they're life normally, because im just this one little spec of dust besides other 7 billion dust pieces, that separately are a nobody. Maybe my family would be devastated, but prob would be prepared for this kind of event about me and i think it would be much easier for my mum if i died, she worries too much about me.



Im just lonely.

A selfish bitch.

[loversandcousins]

Houseguests

1/13/23

1/19/23

For 3 months I welcomed Stonehouse and Kerry James Marshall into my house. I checked out The Mountain Poems of Stonehouse (Copper Canyon Press, 2014) and Kerry James Marshall: Mastry (Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, 2016) from the library. Both are books that you can flip through and read in short installments. In November I renewed Mastry. Finally the due date for both books approached and I gave them back a week ago. 

I am not usually so sentimental about returning books to the library. But these two I had gotten used to. Before returning them I scanned a few pages from each, a digital memento for the box of memories and muses under my bed. 

Part 1: Turning point and arrival

In 1980 Kerry James Marshall painted Portrait of the Artist as a Shadow of his Former Self. He was inspired by the 1952 novel Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. He was 25 years old, and the painting is tiny, only 8 x 6.5 inches. This self portrait marks a turning point and an arrival for Marshall. Previously, he made mainly mixed-media and collage. From this point onward, Marshall has almost exclusively painted Black figures in everyday life, painting them with black skin, with black paint. I've heard artists say this before, that there is one piece that they make that shows them who they are, something that speaks back to the artist and illuminates a clear way forward. 

A year later Marshall painted Portrait of the Artist & A Vacuum, which I am obsessed with and very much want to imitate.

Part 2: "Right now I'm writing a right-now line"

Here are some of my favorite lines from Stonehouse:

very practical… sometimes feelings linger.. i would love to take my basket across the ridge and gather vine flowers… 

In the accompanying commentary, the translator Red Pine explains that in different times in Chinese history monks were given land to live off of. Stonehouse lived during the Yuan Dynasty and was temporarily head of the Monk affairs office in 1331. I don't want to glamorize this system, which Stonehouse clearly has a critique of, but throughout the whole book of poems you get a picture of a very different society from ours, one where being a monk is an established vocation with some supporting infrastructure in place. It is cool and thought provoking as we are currently pressed with the urgent work of crafting a new world.

"i've never been cheated by a hoe," good for you stonehouse… also very relatable, feeling lonely because your friends are out in the world striving for success. 

this verse stuck with me and I copied it into my journal. sometimes i feel a bit desperate in terms of not wanting to make the same mistakes again and again, wanting to break habits, especially those that harm my relationships with others. I really like how Stonehouse says "when life becomes simple old habits end." it strikes me as both optimistic and pragmatic.

hold the PHONE "right now I'm writing a right-now line" is an unreal line, tattoo-worthy, sky-writing plane worthy, very good, very excellent poetry. Stonehouse gets an EGOT. 

In Conclusion:

Those were 2 very good books. Furthermore, returning books means I check more out. Currently I am reading:

Cassell's Encyclopedia of Queer Myth, Symbol, and Spirit by Randy P. Connor, Mariya Sparks, David Hatfield Sparks

Dyke Strippers: Lesbian Cartoonists A to Z Edited by Roz Warren

Act of State: The Execution of Martin Luther King by William F. Pepper

Rock Steady: Brilliant Advice from My Bipolar Life by Ellen Forney

I am finding momentum in reading poetry, comics, and nonfiction, especially any text that is illustrated and/or that you can read non-linearly. On that tip, Act of State is the outlier, but it is so eye opening and righteous that I am locked in. I'll report back later~

[acewithapaintbrush]

"Mama? What are you doing up so early?"

At the voice of her son, Alma whirls around and almost drops the little tumbler of green paint in her left hand. Good thing she had just lifted the brush away from her canvas or she might have done some irreparable damage. 

"Brunito! You're up early." 

"How about, never went to sleep? " Before his Mama can scold him again for his unhealthy sleeping habits, Bruno steps up next to her in front of the family tree and changes the subject. "So it's that time of the year already? The colors still look good, if you ask me." 

Alma shakes her head. "No. Not all of them." She caresses his faded depiction on the mural. Bruno follows her fingers, swallows and avoids his eyes. He doesn't want to admit it, but the fading of his counterpart on the family tree has been the most painful development during the last ten years. 

Its position in the sun always meant that his mother has to give the colors a little touch-up at least once a year. She would usually use that time to also renew it, update the appearances of her grandchildren a little. Or, like 5 years ago, add another little boy entirely. 

But over the last ten years Bruno's part had been neglected. No touch-up for the forsaken son. Every year a little bit less present. Every year a little bit less vibrant. Less important. 

Less loved? 

"It was too hard.", his mother whispers into the morning air. Everyone else is still asleep. "I would put the brush to your part of the family tree and just… freeze. Sometimes I was so angry and intentionally skipped you because I wanted to punish you for leaving. Sometimes I was so scared that I would start and mess it up because what if I had forgotten what you looked like?"

"Mama I'm sorry, I-" 

"Don't apologize." She cups his face and smiles a little when a bit of green paint smudges his cheek. Alma tries to rub it away, but only manages to make it worse. "Ay. I'm making a mess. Always making a mess, your old Mama." 

Bruno takes her hand and squeezes it. He can feel the paint in his beard. It reminds him of easier times, when his sisters and him were little and still allowed to help coloring the mural. 

"I should have done this weeks ago. I'm the one who needs to apologize." She squares her shoulders and smiles. "But I'm gonna make it up to you. I'm gonna make you the most handsome man on that tree. My beautiful, handsome bebe!" 

"Mama!" Bruno laughs. "Just a few less grey hairs will suffice."

"Any more requests?" 

"Well, if you ask me like that…" 

*****************

Camilo and Mirabel admire the repainted family tree. Finally their tio is just as colorful as the rest of the family. It's about time. 

Mirabel leans closer and straightens her glasses with a frown on her face.

"What is it?" Camilo asks. 

"This grey smudge." Mirabel mumbles and points to something small between Tio Bruno's neck and curls. "Doesn't that look like a little rat?" 

Camilo leans closer as well. Both of them stare at the rat-shaped smudge, then at each other, wondering if Abuela would really be so whimsical as to add something like that to the beloved, sacred family tree. 

"Nah!" They drawl at the same time. 

(It is, in fact, a little rat. But maybe that can stay a secret between the artist and the muse.)

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

This was inspired by @glitternightingale and @vaguewaves post about how maybe Alma is the one who painted the family tree

[raccoonhearteyes]

invisible life of addie larue clexa au:

Sometimes, the old gods listen. Trade something worthwhile, pray to the right one, and things can be arranged. But be wary of those that respond after dark.

Foster care is brutal. Lexa is trapped with a family she doesn’t want. In places she hates. The most recent one has a penchant for drinking too much and talking with his fists.

Lexa wants to be free. She wants to see the world and not be tied down. She doesn’t want them to be able to find her. She promises her soul in exchange. The darkness grants it.

Wish granted, but with a cost. Lexa can make no mark on the world. A line written fades. A stain disappears. A drawing vanishes. It’s as if she’d never been there.

Worst of all, people do not remember her. They meet, but once that person has left the room, they have no memory of her. Life bleeds into deja vu. Repeated introductions and conversations.

She knows she’s been tricked. She doesn’t age. Nothing changes. She learns the confines of her curse over the years. It’s a lonely existence, being forgotten so often. Relationships are brief. An hour. A night. But always the same confusion when they wake up next to her with no recollection of the evening. A trip to the bathroom and the evening starts over again upon their return.

Lexa unfortunately remembers everything. It has been 20 years. A lonely, transient, scary 20 years with nothing of permanence. Until a storm cloud of a artist rolls into her life.

She and Clarke have met for the first time many times.

Lexa can’t quite stop herself from meeting Clarke again and again.

It started off innocently enough. A pretty girl. A warm summer night. Easy conversation, secrets whispered into the night, a wild night in bed.

Waking up in tangled sheets a shy “I’m sorry… I don’t actually remember your name… I must’ve had too much to drink last night”

Then it happens again. And again. A 6 month affair. And eventually Lexa realizes she has fallen for this girl. This girl who doesn’t remember her after she leaves a room. And even after all the nights they’ve shared, spots her in a crowd as a new face. As a new muse.

“Your eyes look like a forest” it’s same thing Clarke said the first time they met. And the sixth. And the tenth. And the twenty first. But it’s not just a line. Clarke is an artist and always studies her subjects intently.

She paints her the 8th time. An abstract of Lexa as a galaxy. Titled it Saturn. It sold for 25k at a gallery and Clarke not being able to remember the girl who inspired it haunts her.

“This is unlike me. I usually remember the name.”

The 16th time, they meet at a club. One too many drinks results in Clarke’s lips pressed beneath her jaw, paint-streaked fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her jeans. It was, for Clarke , a rare impulsive moment. It was, for Lexa, the second month of an affair.

One month later Lexa spots her at an outdoor concert. Clarke’s blue eyes dip down from the sky and find her own. The painter smiles, and for an instant, it’s August again, and they are laughing over beers on a bar patio, dancing too close to a cover bands music. Clarke leaning into the crook of her neck as she walks her home. It is September, and they are in her unmade bed, their fingers tangled in the sheets and with each other as Lexa’s mouth traces the warmth between Clarke’s legs. Too weak to refuse, Lexa goes home with her again.

“It’s okay, Clarke” and they way she says her name spreads warmth through Clarke’s chest for reasons she cant quite pinpoint. Why does this feel so familiar?

Clarke finds her asleep on the same rooftop and invites the shivering girl in. She gives the tour of the apartment that Lexa has heard many times. Offers her a cup of tea to warm up. Flirts. Lexa tries hard not to be charmed again. Knows her heart can’t handle it. She has lived those moments with Clarke many times, and one more might shatter her.

So Lexa vows not to fall into this routine. To not go back to any of Clarke’s old haunts, not to end up on her rooftop, or near her apartment, and certainly not in her bed.

A serendipitous run-in at the farmers market. “Your eyes are like a forest” and Lexa has to fight the urge to close the gap. To fall back into Clarke’s orbit.

Months go by as Lexa gives herself the space. But Clarke has this nagging feeling. She has a painting of a girl she doesn’t remember making.

And then Clarke sees her again. An odd sense of deja vu even though she knows she’s never met this woman before. The feeling is gone the second she leaves the gallery.

The painting of the unknown model tugs at her mind all the time. Who was she? Why does it feel like she should know her? Why does it feel like she’s in love with a stranger she’s never met? Questions questions questions… until she decides to strike a deal of her own

[qyllenhaal]

Muse

Pairing: Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve’s an artist, and you’re secretly his muse. 3rd POV. WC: 3.5k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, MDNI), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Fluff. Friends to lover.

Steve knew it was a risk to quit his job and focus full-time on being an artist. His boss laughed in his face when he turned in his letter of resignation and asked Steve how much he thought his "little paintings" were going to make him. Steve didn't just face this scrutiny from his boss, but his friends too albeit not as harsh. Many of the people in his life didn't understand his passion for something that might leave him struggling, but Y/n was always there encouraging him.

"You may struggle for a little bit, but I think it's great Steve! Only one day into your new life as an artist and you already seem happier!"

Steve has known Y/n for almost a decade. They met under odd circumstances that some would consider a meet cute. She's still so sweet and bubbly just like she was the day he met her. It wasn't hard for him to fall head-over-heels for her. She always has a kind word and an open ear even during times of distress.

Sometimes he blushes when she gives him a compliment. She claims to not know anything about art, but every time he shows her something new she always has something stark to say that sticks with him. Maybe it's because it's coming from her.

His time spent alone in his studio is sacred. He converted a room in his apartment into a makeshift studio and he finds so much solace in those four walls. He has wanted to dabble in painting live subjects, maybe even a nude model or too, but he found himself getting real shy about it. He'd love to have someone to pose and to capture the way the light perfectly hits their face. That someone he imagined was often Y/n.

He was shocked when she allowed him to make her his subject. It started with him asking to paint a few photos of her she had lying around for "practice." Y/n was more than happy to help her friend Steve, only under the condition that he show her the final product. Steve found no problem in showing off the pastoral setting paintings he created, but it was much more harder to show off paintings of the person he thinks is the most beautiful person in the world.

Just like he couldn't muster up the confidence to ask anyone else to be his model, Steve could never ask Y/n to model for him in person. He found himself becoming too shy whenever the question was on the tip of his tongue. It would be much better if he were here in person with him, but he opted for photos of her clipped to his easel for reference. He'd finish a painting in one day and send her a photo via text of the finished product.

“I really look like that? It's amazing Steve!”

But eventually he ran out of photos. He tried to reuse some old ways and paint in a different style, or play with the colors, but it was beginning to become stale. Steve needed something new, but he didn't want to let go of Y/n as his subject.

"So you need new pictures?"

"Yeah — it's fine if you don't have any more," he tries to play it off as if he doesn't have 10 canvases in his studio of paintings of her that he hasn't shown her.

"We could take some more. Do you still have that digital camera you got a few Christmas' ago?"

"No. I think it got lost when I moved."

"Oh. Well I think Sam has a camera we can borrow. It's one of those fancy ones, right?"

Steve agreed to ask Sam to borrow his camera, but he honestly wishes that he had just bought his own. The amount of teasing he had to endure when he explained to Sam exactly why he needed the camera made his skin heat up. He couldn't stop his cheeks from becoming rosy when Sam asked when is he finally going to tell Y/n how he feels about her. Steve doesn't want to ruin what they have just in case Y/n rejects him. He'd much rather wallow in his school boy crush than put a strain on their friendship.

"How do you want me to pose?"

Y/n sat on the lone couch in Steve's studio room. It wasn't the best quality but it was still useful.

The curtains were drawn to shield the sun that was nearly set. The lighting in the room was dim save for the soft light coming from a small lamp pointed at her. It casted a warm, yellowish light onto her skin. She wore a white dress and kicked her shoes off at the front door.

"Whatever comes natural to you," his voice is weak as he responds. The atmosphere of the room is slightly romantic and he can't shake his nerves. Everything feels extremely intimate.

Y/n is almost as nervous as Steve. She's never modeled for someone and it feels a little bit awkward. She's always comfortable around Steve, but she can't help but get a little nervous when she sees Steve with the camera in his hands.

"You look perfect like that," he compliments the half-asses pose she's doing before snapping the first photo. He looks at the preview before the camera's screen could go dark.

"Let me see." He shows her and she just nods her head, "let me adjust myself," she whispers.

Y/n unbuttons the first two buttons of her dress, exposing more of her chest that only gives a glimpse of her breast. Steve pretended to not notice it as he took another picture of her. Once again Y/n asked to see the photo and looked a little more satisfied with it this time.

"Do you think that I could — nevermind."

"What is it Y/n?" He asks with a soft laugh that makes her want to melt.

"Do you think I could unbutton my dress all the way?" Her voice faltered as she asked. She watched Steve's reaction intently. She hopes the question doesn't make him uncomfortable. "It's just that I was looking up some ideas online so I could prepare and I saw this really pretty picture of this model and she was semi-nude but it was really pretty so I wanted to ask if we could try it," she explained; or perhaps over-explained.

Steve was completely dumbfounded. If Y/n couldn't see it in his dropped jaw, then she can see it in the way he just freezes.

"It's okay if that's too much."

"No! No, it's okay."

Y/n gave him a half smile before she began to unbutton the front of her dress. Steve tried to look away, but how could he not? The more she revealed herself, the easier it was for him to see the swell of her breast. Her skin looks so soft and he feels compelled to reach out and caress her bare skin. But he keeps his hands to himself.

"Is this too much?" The puffy sleeves of her dress were off of her shoulder and her dress was all the way open until the middle of her stomach. It's a lot for him to handle, but he feels blessed to see such a sight.

"No. It's perfect. You're perfect."

Y/n's skin heats up despite the room being cold. She was starting to get a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a bad one or an uncomfortable feeling, but it was something she wasn't used to.

Now she's half-naked and posing on his couch. The first few photos he took of her like this were awkward as they both had to adjust to Y/n being half-naked.

Steve couldn't ignore the way the cold air made her nipples hard and breast tender. Steve was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he is seconds away from making a stupid mistake with his best friend.

Y/n arches her back which makes her breast jut out at him. Steve pauses to pray that he doesn't get a hard on. He feels a bit like a scumbag for even having this dilemma. It's just his best friend's half-naked body — that looks so soft and tender.

He forced himself to steel his resolve and hurry up and finish the task at hand. He began to treat her more like a model instead of the best friend he has a crush on.

"Try this," he suggests to her to move her body in a different way, which she does, but it's not quite what he wants. He was hesitant to get his hands on her, but he went for it anyway, "a little more like this."

In the process of moving her body, his hand brushed against her nipple. Y/n involuntarily let out a moan which made both of them pause. They looked at each other before Y/n let out a nervous laugh to try to play it off.

"Sorry," Steve apologizes.

"It's okay."

He glosses over what just happened and goes back to moving her body to her liking. He can't get over how good she feels underneath him. The truth is that he was taking his time to be able to have this experience for much longer. He may never have this kind of closeness with her again and he just can't quite let go.

Y/n watches his face as his hands touch her body. He looks so handsome under this lighting and Y/n wonders if she's always felt this way about Steve. For some reason she feels lust swirling inside of her. She hopes she isn't making a mistake when she leans forward and kisses him. Steve freezes under her kiss, stunned by reality, but he lets it happen. Her lips feel so soft against his, just like he always imagined.

She pulls away and places her forehead against his. Steve still has his eyes closed, lost in the dream that is Y/n's closeness.

"You can open your eyes now," she teases him. He obeys her and laughs along with her.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admits.

The revelation is shocking to her. She had no idea he felt this way about her, but now she wonders how much she's been oblivious to.

"Do you want this, Y/n? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"No, no — I want this Steve. I wanna feel you touching me," her voice became somewhat whiny as desire fueled her.

With her blessing, Steve did not hold back. He kissed her hard, the way he imagined he would always kiss her. Imagine the way his heart nearly stopped when Y/n kissed him back with the same amount of fervor and want. Her hand came up and rested against the stubble on his cheek. They wish they could say their kiss was delicate, but it was not; it was sloppy and their tongues danced with each other.

When Steve pulls away, he's out of breath, but he's happy. The light touches he gave to her body earlier were not a bit rougher. He wants to explore every inch of her body in seconds, but he wants to be patient; he has all night to discover every inch of her.

"Touch me right here, Steve."

Y/n places his hands on her breast with his thumbs in reach of her nipples. Steve's thumb runs across her taut nipples which makes her sigh. "You like that?" He asks with a bit more confidence. She nods her head and her approval emboldens him. “Good.”

His lips ghost across the skin on her neck before he places a wet kiss against the skin on her throat. He can feel her breath hitch every time he places a tender kiss on her flesh. She smells like lavender and it makes him feel dizzy. He keeps playing with her nipples as he begins to suck on her neck. Y/n wants to just lay there and take in the feeling of him spoiling her, but she also wants to hear him moan. She strokes the bulge in his pants with her knee and she feels him groan against her skin. He lightly grinds himself against her knee to relieve all of the tension that built up inside of him. Neither of them are sure who wants who more, but it doesn’t matter to either of them. Knowing that this is an equal exchange of love and lust is enough for the two of them.

“Oh god Steve,” Y/n coos when he sucks on the most sensitive part of her neck. They’ve only just begun, but he makes her feel so good. A part of her is wishing that she had discovered Steve’s crush on her a long time ago, but she has him now and that’s all that matters.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says against her skin, “I wanna make you cum.”

Y/n can’t help but moan at his confession. She can already imagine how it would feel to have him between her legs.

“Please Steve!”

Steve sits up just to push her dress up. The cotton panties she wears has a pink bow sewn onto it and he finds it adorable. He glances back up at her and he notices that she’s looking away from him. She’s now feeling bashful knowing that he’s going to see her completely naked even though she wants all of this and more. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” Steve pacifies her by slowly stroking her outer thigh. She finally looks at him, her pupils wide with lust. She almost sighs in content when he starts to slide her panties down. The cool air of the rooms only heats her up once it hits her hot sex.

“My god,” Steve whispers to himself. She looks so pretty, but she’s absolutely messy between her legs. She places her foot on the back of his couch to spread herself wider for him. “Good girl.”

Steve lowers himself between her legs and just stares at her for a moment. He wants to remember this for the rest of his life just in case this is the last time something like this happens between the two of them. He would be crushed if Y/n asked to just continue on as friend’s after this, but he would be eternally grateful that she granted him this opportunity. All he wants to do is make her feel good; his pleasure will follow suit, but it’s all about her.

One of his fingers runs along the edge of her folds. Y/n whimpers at the delicate way he treats her body. She feels so lucky to have someone so kind and sweet like Steve. He touches her with care, and love is in every stroke. “You’re so perfect,” he says before kissing her inner thigh. Every part of her body is sensitive but somehow she is able to withstand it all.

The first lick to her pussy overblows both of their senses. She’s sweet like honey and juicy like a peach. Steve’s first instinct is to groan against her pussy which sends vibration throughout her entire body. She feels like she’s on fire as all of the blood in her body goes straight to her sensitive nub. His tongue focuses on her clit and she’s in heaven. Steve’s tongue moves with so much skill and precision, but most importantly, passion. Steve treats her like he truly wants her, and Y/n can’t help but fall for him at this moment.

“You taste so good,” he coos against her slick.

The way he paws at her body while licking her pussy makes her feel like she’s being worshiped. Tears well in her eyes the harder he sucks at her clit. She hopes his neighbors’ aren’t home because they’d probably be annoyed at the loud sounds of her cries of pleasure. He has her on the edge and it just takes him rolling her nipples with his fingers that finally push her over.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Her cries are so angelic to him. And as much as he wants to keep licking her out, Steve needs to be inside of her so bad. He tames himself and pulls his mouth away from her to pull himself out of his pants. His incredibly hard, the head of his cock an angry red as it leaks pre-cum. “This is what you do to me,” his words are haunting. Y/n whines and wiggles her hips from being so impatient.

Steve lowers himself and presses the head of her cock at her opening. She’s so slippery that he pushes into her with ease. His cock is so big that she inhales sharply as she takes all of him inside of her. Her walls are like silk around him.

“So tight baby — oh god.”

Steve feels like he’s going to explode already. Her pussy is squeezing him and she looks up at him with wide eyes as she takes his cock like a good girl. It is the hardest task he’s ever faced in his life to not cum already. She just feels so good.

“Are you okay?” He asks sweetly before dipping his head to kiss her forehead.

She nods her head, “yes, Steve…feels so good,” she manages to speak coherently.

Her legs were thrown over his legs which allows him to fuck deeper into her. She looks so beautiful underneath him. Steve wants to feel her cum on his cock so bad. She flutters around him when he pulls out of her only to push back in seconds later.

Steve can only control himself for so long before he’s pounding into her. The cry of his name on her lips is so saccharine that it gives him a sweet tooth. He sucks on the skin of her neck to satisfy that need while Y/n places her hand on the back of his head as she moans for him.

“I’m gonna cum Steve! You’re going to make me cum!”

The ridges of his cock feels so good inside of her, but what really does it for her is how the head of his cock is kissing her cervix. The stretch of his cock is such a delicious burn that she wants him inside forever. With his face planted in her neck, lips kissing at her skin, Y/n is completely enamored with the way Steve consumes all of her. She is his just as much as he is her.

He feels her sex squeeze him one more time before she’s cumming all around him. She clings to him as her orgasm ravages through her. Steve fucks her through it before reluctantly pulling out of her. Her jerks himself off until he’s cumming all over her pretty tits, painting her body like she’s one of the world’s most precious masterpieces.

The two are completely spent as their limbs dangle off of his couch. Y/n’s heart is full feeling his cum cooling on her chest. She dips a finger in his spent and sucks it off, savoring his taste since she didn’t get a chance to go down on him. Steve almost passes out at the sight.

“You’re crushing my legs Steve,” she laughs warmly. He rolls off of her and off of the couch entirely.

Steve grabs a towel and starts t0 clean up her chest. He remembers what they were supposed to be accomplishing, but after what just happened between the two of them, Steve is certain he won’t be anxious about asking her to be his model again.

“So, where do we go from here?”

The question catches him off guard. He slowly wipes away his cum with the damp towel from her chest. As much as finding the answer to this question is hard, he is happy that she asked it because it means that she’s giving him a chance.

“I don’t want this to be the last time we do this,” Steve admits. He’s quickly become addicted to the way their foreheads pressed together; it just feels so intimate. “I love you too much for this to be the last time we ever spend like this together.”

As much as tonight has been shocking to her after the revelation of Steve proving to her that he loves her, she’s only overwhelmed with positive emotions.

“Then let’s not let this be the last time,” she whispers against his lips.

A wave of relief washes over Steve as he just lays there against, their bare bodies pressed against each other as if this is always how it should’ve been. His only hope is that they can stay like this forever.

[wickedpact]

dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........  late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

  B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.)  the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

  C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

  D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

  E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

  F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest. 

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

[heybaetae]

ah i love that we got more info on each track but something that stuck with me is how he talked about yun, and the fact he used a painting of his for his album that he made before he found his 'signature style' and joon using it for this cause he felt he hasn't found his signature yet is so big brained like what?? who thinks this way?? theres layers and layers. like just it being based on the painters words alone of being human before u make art was beautiful but then there's more. god i love this man more every day. couldnt have asked for a better album to to explode my emotions living in my 20s to moving on to another chapter (no 2) can u tell i love this album? 😭

i love that man’s brain! he has such a creative and lyrical soul, not just on paper but in every aspect of his life. his perspective is so thought provoking and i love old souls like him. he makes me feel less weird for being a ponderer. i’m realizing a lot lately how similar he and i are, though i’m no where near as philosophical as he is lol. i love that he has a passion for art and lets it bleed into his own work. that’s what’s so beautiful about having muses. letting someone’s work speak to you in a way that it inspires and moves you to the point of creating something yourself is so rewarding. that’s such a beautiful gift we have as human beings. utilizing those emotions and those talents to make something new is even better.

it’s bringing me such joy how much everyone collectively loves this album and how passionate he feels about it too! not that i had any doubts we’d like it, but i really hope namjoon is proud of it and it seems like he’s happy with it (i know how artists are super critical of their work and sometimes don’t feel 100% confident when they put their work out into the world) and that makes me feel over the moon for him.