I want to know more about the m9 artist au!! I remember reading a post or two about it a billion years ago (and would love to read them again) 💜
hi jess!!!! thank u for being interested hehe :")
so ever since i drew that lil thing of essek painting a frank stella inspired painting (or even before), ive been thinking of what kinds of art each of the m9 would do. essek ofc is inspired by a minimalist show that i went to here, all the big names from that movement were shown, but those really dark, sinkhole-like paintings are speaking to me. another artwork of boxes made of mirrors also seems like the thing he would do too
there's a kiln here that we visited which was huge, and surrounding it were artists' studios and some other ceramic sellers, i imagine the clay family having a place like this in the middle of nowhere amongst the trees, and caleb would do his work there
anyways because at heart im a shadowgast luver its centred around them,, they meet at an artist residency or something like that and its an incredibly slow burn that involves talking and not-talking and looking and not-looking. in the end i am but a simple wong kar wai fan so. that kinda vibes would definitely influence this, i would describe it as a quiet burning i guess?? time skipy and words that are not said
i think im gonna rant a bit more about their different mediums and styles so i'll keep it under the cut
i think caleb sculpts figures and portraits, but in a sad, kathe kollwitz charcoal vibe. maybe some funky looking animals, perhaps some pots and vases to look at the pretty glazes. he's interested in using fire to burn texture into different mediums, like ive seen it being used on shellac to make a really cool net of ink looking structure.. but yknow, just seeing the aftermath of glazed ceramic from the kiln is enough, and probably better for him to keep his distance anyways
the clay family produces most of the ceramic to sell, vases, pots, plates, cups, teapots, yknow just a whole array. and its really colourful too, depicting every family members different style. i think caduceus would do some matte glazes with a lot of different colours, theyre all a little wonky but theyre better off that way anyways. he does some really mean ink calligraphy and painting though
jester definitely does,, everything, whatever her heart desires kinda thang. she makes pastel textile installations and lighthearted cute paintings, but theyre always so contemplative and soothing. she gets m9 a lot of work cus her mom has connections, etc etc. i really love the idea of jester creating works that talk about the female body and femininity (definitely not projecting no)
beau is a printmaker and photographer who's really experimental, she loves cyanotypes and printing flowers (for yasha), idk she seems like she would put fabric and rocks into the washing machine to see what would happen. u would probably catch her in someone elses studio learning about what they do or in the library learning about what old people did
veth works in a museum as a curator, getting beau to help her sometimes with gathering artworks and artists etc. she probably organises community art projects for kids and public art installations. her house is full of m9's artworks and various other artists shes worked with.
yasha does bouquets as her post-retirement part time job, prior to that no one really knows what she did ("she probably murdered a bunch of people and is now hiding from the government"). fjord draws comics for fun but is also not a job for him, molly is a question mark for me. but these guys probably wont be in it as much anyways
im still not sure what format i wanna do this in, im actually having fun just writing it in my notebook now (digital does not facilitate the creative juices) but i do want to do some visuals like fake movie stills or storyboards. maybe they will work together well???? dunno. working on the other shadowgasty thing im doing made me realise how much easier it is to draw when there's a script already there, so im writing the script for myself
im definitely not as practiced in writing as i am in drawing, but idk im just gonna have some fun and see where that takes me, meanwhile try not to feel too bad that its fanart HAHA (very bad habit)
edit: i just saw my previous thoughts on beau being an art journalist, but i kinda like this better.. but maybe she can do both muah
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“Hold the elevator!”
The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.
He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.
His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.
The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.
As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.
“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”
Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.
“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”
Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.
“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”
Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.
“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”
This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.
“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”
Forty-one. Forty-two.
Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”
“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.
It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.
And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.
But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.
Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.
He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.
Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.
“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.
“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.
Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.
Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.
But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.
Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.
Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”
As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.
When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.
/ Now with a Part 2!
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modern au crack-ish yandere idea. dragons being the king of all lizards, imagine zhongli being able to control all the 'lesser' lizards to some extent, maybe even share senses with them.
and what better way for him to watch you, his dearest darling, than connecting with the common house geckos that's roaming around your house?
they're harmless, agile, and inconspicuous enough to do some basic monitoring. don't pay attention to the strange amber-eyed tiny animal perched on your bedroom walls, dear. don't delude yourself into thinking that its eyes seemed to shine in the darkness of your room while you teeter between dream and reality deep into the night. don't worry about how it seemed to chirp angrily whenever your friends come over, as if it's warning them from entering its territory.
it's just a common house pet anyway. right?
if you're a superstitious person, that's even better. geckos are said to be a symbol of luck, protection of your home and its residents. and in this case, it's especially true for you.
worry not, for this 'lizard' will gladly rid all the 'insects' who dared to step into your abode.
a/n: lil background story time. i needed to change my bedsheets and got utterly spooked by a tiny lil house lizard flopping onto my arm when i was moving my plushies to my desk. zhongli... honey... lizards are cute, yes, but you're the only lizard i don't mind having in my bedー /smacked
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The Van Fund, or "Help Pops become homeless so they can finally stop begging for rent money every goddamn month"
Hey y'all! I'm Pops (they/them), a broke-as-hell nonbinary autistic anarchist. People who follow me will know that earlier this year I got a full-time nonprofit job, which I truly believed in and did my best at while I was there. Unfortunately, my best wasn't good enough, and by the end of my term there I was getting lectures from my boss daily (same as all my previous jobs - being autistic enough to suck at work but not autistic enough to get any sympathy or accommodations is hell). Eventually I was so ground down and burnt out that I quit, and I've spent the several months since paralyzed with depression. On top of that, while working there the partner I was living with dumped me forcing me to move into a shitty one-bedroom apartment, and shortly after moving there my motorcycle (my only vehicle) was stolen. Needless to say, being trapped in this tiny space alone with no transportation has not been good for my already historically bad mental health
At this point, the thought of ever working a capitalist job again genuinely makes me suicidal, so I've been looking into other ways of living. After talking to some very helpful folks and looking through various resources online, I've decided to get a used contractor van and live in it for the time being. I intend to dedicate the extra time, energy, money, and freedom that'll give me (plus the van itself, when it can be useful) to mutual aid and the broader anarchist struggle as much as possible
To summarize: capitalism sucks, I'm gonna live in a van and do anarchy instead
Like I mentioned before, I'm completely broke. I know how I'm gonna make money once I have the van, but without transportation I don't have a lot of options. That's why I'm asking you guys for help
After looking around online, I settled on a goal of $3000 to buy a van outright and have it delivered here. If you're in a comfortable enough financial position to help me out, you can contribute to the goal on my ko-fi. I also have a patreon, and you can DM me for my venmo, paypal, or cashapp. Hopefully, unless something unexpected happens down the road, this should be the last big begpost I'll ever have to make
Thank you for reading, and thank you all for your help all these years. Reblogs are appreciated
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When it comes to ASL, Luffy is perceived as yellow, and when he forms the Straw Hats, he is finally seen as his most characteristic color: Red.
I find this interesting because yellow is considered to be a bright and joyful primary color, bringing happiness and laughter, and is often associated with sunshine and sunflowers. It can be seen as courage, too. However, it can also be associated with cowardice. Luffy's role within the three of them is to be the little sibling. He is, indeed: bright, joyful, sun itself, and a crybaby. He represents cheerfulness and adventure. He's nature and happiness. Yellow is often used to catch your attention. To be persuasive. To be fun and childish. To be warm and optimistic.
Then, Luffy becomes red, when he becomes the captain of his own crew.
Red is a primary color too. It's often used to rule and, exactly like yellow, to catch your attention. It's associated with violence, rage, and fire, things that could be easily translated as strong emotions. But it's also heavily tied to passion and love, and if we know something about Luffy is that he's both passionate and strong, willing to do anything for the ones he loves. It's also mainly used to represent importance and authority. And it has different meanings depending on the country: Happiness, good luck, rage, mourning, communism (which, you know, is easily tied to freedom, equality, and the end of oppression). It's a powerful color.
I don't exactly know what I want to say with all of this. I just find very interesting the change of color depending on the group he is in. But even if he's red, his clothes almost every time have yellow in them. So, yeah, nothing new. Luffy is yellow and red and I love it.
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