I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
Eden Robinson Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted / Jesse Burton The Miniaturist / Ron Hicks Stendhal Syndrome / Trista Mateer / Louise Glück Epithalamium from "Descending Figure" / Ron Hicks Warmth of the Sun / Mitski I Will / unknown / Ron Hicks The Embrace / unknown
i. Eden Robinson Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted [ "You can put your strength down. I'm sitting here with you at your kitchen table. You don't need to say anything. ]
ii. Jesse Burton The Miniaturist [ You are sunlight though a window, which I stand in, warmed. ]
iii. Ron Hicks Stendhal Syndrome [ A woman lovingly looks down at a man who's laying on her lap. They sit on a sill together. The woman is wearing a white dress and has a red jacket draped over her crossed legs. The man wears a business suit and has one foot over his knee. ]
iv. Trista Mateer [ "In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch." ]
v. Louise Gluck Epithalamium [ "'Here is my hand,' he said. 'Here is my hand that will not harm you.'" ]
vi. Ron Hicks Warmth of the Sun [ A man and a woman lay in a field. The woman wears a white dress. The man has a white shirt and tan pants. The man leans over the woman's stomach, resting his head on his arm. They hold hands over her body. They look at each other lovingly. ]
vii. Mitski I Will [ I will wash your hair at night / And dry it off with care / I will see your body bare / And still I will live here ]
viii. [ A man and a woman sit in a field. They both wear dark clothing. The man's face is not visible. The woman looks over her shoulder towards the audience. ]
ix. Ron Hicks The Embrace [ A man and a woman kiss in front of a balcony. They both wear dark clothing. They cling to each other's bodies. Behind them, two birds press their beaks together. ]
x. [ "it gets better, i think. maybe just for a day. maybe just for a song. but there's something there to hold on to. ]
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A disabled Muslim man takes a morning walk, goes with the flow & naturally chooses the path to cross with meeting Paul a Jew grafted onto the olive tree. As it’s Good Friday we openly discuss Jesus & our meeting this day.
Shalom, Salaam, Peace be with you always.
Marty
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A few weeks ago, @chawarin-panich wrote this beautiful piece about how "often it's within darkness that queer love is allowed to nurture and grow," and it very true that queer love is most often found in the shadows hidden away from public scorn.
So know that I love Golf for saying "Nah! We're living out loud! We aren't hiding! We are embracing the light!"
Fantasy vs. Reality
Asleep vs. Awake
The tenderness that each boy gives and receives during their kiss shows that this moment is for them and nobody else. They aren't only existing under the cover of the night. They aren't in a rush trying to beat the daylight. They have time. They have the warmth of the sun. They have love.
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Pye Corner Audio (ft. Andy Bell) - Warmth of the Sun (from Let’s Emerge)
Great new album out from Martin Jenkins aka Pye Corner Audio!
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Ryan Farish - Warmth of the Sun
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Norah Jones - WARMTH OF THE SUN [Beach Boys cover] @ Dolby Theater, Holl...
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Also, totally not me grieving, but what if Ruin fucked up and just managed to turn several trillion people and animatronics into cats instead of collapsing their dimensions.
So, then, after Solar 'dies' Moon is just standing screaming meanwhile newly kitten Solar is pressing his face against Moons legs in confusion because he's tiny and cold on the floor and doesn't know how to move besides wriggling like a worm.
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When no one is looking...
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he's as seasoned as white bread
good for him
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ain wordl but seven red suns's puppet is a lamp 🤯🤯
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"son, i could move the sky for you"
~
so...midnight and sol in the rewrite... (more info below the cut!)
☆
in the scorched ruins of a long abandoned ravine awaits an elderly badger. for seasons, midnight retraced the ancient claw-marks of those before this time; fading echoes of now forgotten spirits. every night she patrols the worn stone, accompanied only by the distant pelt of stars above her.
the low humming of wind bouncing off the gorge walls was scarcely broken--be it by a passing critter or occasional loner--but tonight, something was different.
she follows the shrill wailing--lumbering after it with more energy than she had showcased in moons--down the ragged cliff edge, and into the hollowed out stone. there lay a scrawny cat--a kitten. midnight's ears itch at it's mewling, and her throat tightens.
she reaches out a clawed paw, and pulls the shivering scrap towards herself. the kit whimpers still, but unscrews it's eyes. brilliant sunburnt irises burn into her own; and a warmth she had long been deprived melted the aches of age away--if only for a moment.
those pools of yellow observed her curiously. after a heartbeat, the child nuzzled deeper into her wiry coat.
how long had it been since held new life? how long had it been since was held by someone?
regardless of the answer, she couldnt let go now.
☆
i love sad old people
Original/Alt. Version here:
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I fucking broke my laptop (I CANT DRAW DIGITALLY ANYMORE) so everyone is now obligated to hear about my primordial boyfriends scarian au
because i need some way to cope
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It’s been a while, but finally drew my frozen watcher grian again!
I’m still working on making a fun plot that works for the character (it’s like, more than 50% non canon compliant haha), but it’s gonn be fucking epic, and angsty (i hope haha)
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This morning, everyone being in Grasse, I worked again and then walked alone. The sun warmed me gently, I held your hand and we walked together in the mountains. I was in a good mood at lunch, now I am less bright, but I go to work, there is sunshine in my room and, I don't know why, I have the warm and present impression of being loved by you. This puts me in a sweet and melancholic mood. In a way I think I am happy, fleetingly, more acutely than permanently, but in the end, happy and full of gratitude and love for you.
Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 7, 1950 [#177]
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Olafur Eliasson: The Weather Project (2003)
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