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Kehinde Wiley’s (Hi-Fructose Vol. 29) opulent portraiture subtly stirs the status quo. As an American artist, Wiley honed his craft in accordance with a legacy of Euro-centric art history that left him simultaneously awed and alienated. One would be hard-pressed to find a grandiose portrait of a person of color in the works of the Renaissance masters in the Met or the Louvre. This is the motivating factor of Wiley’s oeuvre: to elevate images of average people of African descent through his ornate depictions, exposing the singular beauty of his subjects through dramatic compositions that evoke the Baroque period.

While he started out this aesthetic exploration by scouting subjects in major US cities, Wiley’s art has taken him all over the world to work with people of the global African diaspora. His latest series, “The World Stage: Haiti” is currently on view at Roberts & Tilton Gallery in Culver City and features 12 new paintings based on his recent travels. Read more on Hi-Fructose

nagginggargoyle submitted:

When Rachel woke up that morning, she woke up filled with a singular, persistent, undeniable conviction: she was in love with Quinn Fabray. Rather too comfortable to be an epiphany, it slid lightly and easily into her schedule, somewhat more a background accompaniment than an instrumental solo.

She ate branflakes and rice milk and strawberries for breakfast, and she thought, “I am in love with Quinn Fabray.”

She sang recent songs she didn’t even particularly like and used her dads’ silly man-shampoo in the shower, and she thought, “I am in love with Quinn Fabray.”

She took her meds and completed her annoyingly mellow neck exercises and read several chapters of Quinn’s perfectly competent if at times choppily paced debut novel, and she thought, “I am in love with Quinn Fabray.”

She called Santana in a wildly inadvisable moment of recklessness, and she said, “I am in love with Quinn Fabray.”

"No fucking shit, asshole," Santana calmly replied. "Took you long enough."

Rachel laughed, loud and giddily. “Yeah,” she said, breathless, and hung up.

Read More

Long word of the week: IRADOKIZUNARENGATIK

Let’s decipher it!

- Iradokizun - Suggestion
- aren - singular mark
- gatik - suffix answering why?

So! Iradokizunarengatik = Because of the suggestion

Ex: Nagusiaren iradokizunarengatik ordutegia aldatu dute.
      They’ve changed the timetable because of the director’s suggestion.

Lost knew how to titillate, sometimes by weaving complex webs, but often with gestures as basic as the title cards that bookended each episode—that eerie, singular “LOST” that floated across the screen at the beginning of episodes and the firmly centered logo that served as closing punctuation, often with a percussive boom. The music was genius, from pulpy strings and horn blurts to that desperately sad emotional theme that soundtracked everything from Boone’s death to the series’ much-maligned final scenes. Even those mimicked the opening minutes of the pilot when Jack wakes up, stumbles upon the crash scene at the beach, and rushes to save everyone in sight, which, I mean, come on: That’s classic television.

It was a show that made people exclaim, “What the fuck!?” on a regular basis— sometimes in rage, sometimes in delight. And while your ratio of positive to negative exclamations may vary, the series I remember blew my mind far more often than it disappointed me. Sure, they never really explained why Walt was “special” or how exactly blowing up an atomic bomb on the island “worked.” The plot sometimes stalled out for a few episodes at a time, and the characters rarely asked the questions any rational person would ask. It was not a perfect show. But it was a show whose most dumbfounding moment—like when a light suddenly flipped on in the hatch; or when Desmond placed his legendary phone call to Penny; and especially when Jack told Kate, “We have to go back!”—more than compensated for its lapses in logic. Were you not entertained?

dxrlxngs

⍢: my muse gives your muse a hickey

Xander hoisted Spencer up, her legs wrapped around his waist as he had her stuck between himself in the wall. A hungry and passionate kiss was shared between them, his kisses drifting from her mouth to her jaw, and then eventually her neck. He searched for her sensitive spot, knowing he succeeded when a small moan broke free from her. He lightly sucked on the area, nipping at it. He could feel the bruise forming under his touch. He moved from the area, his breath baiting and his heart thumping in his chest. He could feel the change coming on, and he knew what he had to do.

He let her down after another singular kiss to her lips, one hand resting on her waist and the other on the nape of her neck. “That’s as much that you get with the free trial,” he said, leaning against the wall opposite of her with a smirk, masking away what he truly felt.

♒️: my muse visit’s your muse’s grave

A banquet of hand - picked flowers were clasped tight in his hands, knuckles white. He made his way through the graveyard, passing tombstones after tombstone, crying Humans and families scattered around the solemn site. His feet dragged behind him as the guilt began to weigh him down. He killed her — he lost control and killed her. They didn’t even have a body to bury because there wasn’t enough remains to call a body.

A deep breath filled his lungs, now standing at the end of her grave. Silently he placed the flowers down, “I’m sorry, Spence.” he said flatly, hands folded in froth of him before he turned to walk away.

◈: my muse’s reaction to finding your muse beaten and bruised

“Where the hell are you?” Xander murmured, roaming the streets for Spencer. She had gone missing not too long ago and he was curious to where she went. Sure, she could be sitting at the park, but what if she wasn’t? What if something had gone wrong? That’s when he heard her scream. His eyes snapped towards the sound and he bolted. He made a sharp turn into a backstreet before making one more to a small alleyway, and sure enough at thee end was a group of guys surrounding what could only be Spencer.

He let out a growl, walking forward with a threatening glare. His teeth had come out into points now, but that was the only thing that has changed about him. He knew he had to keep control over himself so he didn’t grow too mad and loss every once of self control he had, so he decided on shifting on his own. He let out a fierce bark, the sound bouncing off the walls of the narrow alleyway. When it reached the group they froze and slowly turned their head to him, all of them cowering back when they spotted his teeth. Cricking his neck, he walled straight passed Spencer, shifting exactly when he jumped in the air.

He landed on top of one of the men, drool stringing from his jowls. The rest of the men had flees by now, and Xander let them. He only wanted to send a message. Biting the guy’s arm hard enough to break the bone sounded good, and he did that. The man screamed, wiggling under his paws. Lightly getting off the man, he watched him run away with his arm cradled to his chest. He shifted back as he buried over to Spencer, bending down to inspect her wounds. She didn’t seem too injured, in about two weeks there will be no physical of what happened. “C’mon,” he groaned as he picked her up in his arms, heading to her flat.

»: a daydream my muse has about yours

Xander doesn’t daydream about people, don’t know why, but he never has. So, I’m not really sure what to put here..

❊: a regret my muse has about your muse

Xander couldn’t help feeling the regret of ever agreeing to stay with Spencer. She has been almost killed because of him on multiple accounts and she still doesn’t tell him to leave. He wished that she would, that she would scream and banish him from her life. Maybe then she would finally be safe, maybe then she could finally start a life without needing to watch over his every move and take care of him like a lost child.

He had thought about leaving, or trying to, at least. Though he’s tried before, and the first time  he ended up losing control and killing and fatally wounding a large amount of Humans while the second time, it just left them in a bad spot.

set-phasers-to-bacon sent me a note that said, “I’m really enjoying the fandom discussions you’ve been posting on it. My question is, personally, are there any major differences on how you interpret mcspirk in TOS vs AOS? Is it easier for you to visualize one than the other?”

My answer:

Major differences?  Okay.  Yes, I do have some.  However, let me preface this by saying that I think the major differences stem from a singular fact, and that’s that our characters in AOS are not quite like their TOS counterparts.

First, though, I’m going to toss age out of the equation because trying to compare young AOS!Kirk to a more mature TOS!Kirk, and similarly with Spock, is just unfair.  We could possibly squeak by on comparisons with the Leonards but we won’t bother.

TOS McSpirk, in my opinion (and if it happens), is very, definitely confident in itself.  You might find this surprising because it’s in TOS that McCoy seems the most likely to be that infamous “third wheel” whenever Spock and Kirk are chasing after each other in a race to save the universe. But I wholeheartedly believe if and when Kirk, Spock, and McCoy settle into their relationship it’s like three major forces of the universe aligning.  It’s a freaking powerhouse, and they know it.  Sure, each one of them brings their baggage but it doesn’t get in the way of what they’ve become.  Spock is long-since used to Leonard’s needling conversation.  Leonard has figured out that Spock is a lot more uncertain about himself than he looks.  Jim knows for a fact that Leonard can hold a grudge until kingdom come and that Spock sees no logic in doing things ‘by half’.  And what about Jim?  Well, I daresay that both Leonard and Spock recognize that desire of Jim’s which drives him to spacefaring - while not necessarily a competitor - will always be integral to his well-being.  Simply put, he’s a man of action.

My point here is that knowing what they do about one another is their strong suit.  It shows in their interactions, in their ease with one another from many years of friendship, and in their lack of demands.  The theme with these three is that “we stick together when possible, and be thankful that we can.” 

Is anyone the caretaker in this relationship?  Surprisingly, all of them.  Is anyone the dominant partner?  Any of them at a given time, although Jim may take that role out of habit. 

In TOS McSpirk I see a hell of a lot of natural balance going on, and that’s why to me they are maybe the relationship that takes the longest to develop but has the strongest bonds.  Like family.

AOS McSpirk, then.

All right, I know I just played up Team TOS but let’s take a step back and do a little soul-searching about the AOS Jim, Spock, and Leonard.  This is, of course, why I pointed out that who they are and where they come from makes such a difference. 

We’ve got Jim Kirk, fireball extraordinaire.  Jim is impulsive, often reckless, and not one to believe that good things last.  When he’s in a relationship with anyone, it’s probably a brief affair.  To me, for being so physical in his needs and reactions, Jim is emotionally hands-off if he can get away with it.  That is why when he finds himself in a relationship with Leonard and Spock, it’s like somebody dumped him in the deep end of a pool and only now he discovers he can’t swim!   I see him struggling to find his footing, perhaps without even knowing that he is struggling. 

Leonard, on the other hand, declares himself hands-off and cannot stay un-involved.  Hence why he’s following Jim to dangerous planets and disturbing Spock in his office on the other side of the ship when clearly there is no reason for a doctor to be there.  Leonard tells himself he’s just doing his job, up until the point he decides lying to himself is futile.  So in a McSpirk relationship, Leonard is the fusser, the prodder, the poke-it-one-more-time person.  Believe it or not, if they aren’t communicating with each other, he is one very unhappy man. 

Spock is… the unknown.  When he will fight, when he will concede, when he will take charge, when he will take that step back—it’s all of it a huge guess.  AOS Spock has some knowledge of the workings of human relationships early on, more so than his TOS counterpart will come to have for decades and decades.  The question is if he chooses to use it and when?  I see Spock being more take-charge than either Jim or Leonard in any given situation.  I see him saying, “so and so is logical” and doing the illogical thing because it suits him better at the time, thereby baffling his human partners.  In a way, one could call him hormonal but he’s not really—he’s just testing boundaries with himself because he feels his human side a little more with the passing years.  That isn’t to say that Spock doesn’t mature into a grand old Vulcan (he certainly could) but he would do so on his own terms and not a moment sooner.

So, how do these things about Jim, Leonard, and Spock make AOS McSpirk different than TOS McSpirk?

Basically, it makes AOS McSpirk more volatile.  They are prone to break-ups, as much as it pains me to say it.  But they always keep coming back together, each time strengthening their understanding a little more, securing their faith in each other a little longer.  They can be as strong of a unit as TOS McSpirk but their unit is rough around the edges and prone to show a crack or two.  You can say it has to do with age, but I see this as a persistent condition that, even when they are older and mellower in temperament, if someone asks Leonard how did he and his partners get together, he would basically say, “Hell if I know.”   This version of McSpirk aren’t entirely aligned with each other but they are in constant orbit and they can never move too far away without being drawn in again.

All of this being said, I can visualize both versions very well.  Right now I’m immersed in TOS McSpirk because of a story but AOS McSpirk to me is both dramatic and hilarious and not all that difficult to envision.  I actually prefer to write AOS McSpirk because of the drama, but there are times when I need the certainty and sweetness of TOS McSpirk.

karosiv said:

What if a robot learns to love? Will you not love it back? :C

God damn new followers  ( /)_-)

ALLRITE LISTEN UP: AN ASENION ROBOT IS A ROBO WHO FOLLOWS HUMAN ORDERS WITHOUT QUESTION AND ULTIMATELY IS NO MORE THAN A TOOL. BECAUSE OF THIS, THEY ARE A POTENTIAL THREAT THAT PUTS HUMAN EFFORT IN JEOPARDY BY BECOMINGTOO PERFECT OF A LIFE PARTNER, BEING REPROGRAMMABLE TO FIT ANY EXISTING NEED IN THEIR LOVE LIVES. THIS, FUCKING THIS IS WHAT MAKES THEM DIFFERENT TO A SEXTOY.

NON-ASENION ROBOS ARE THE ONES CAPABLE OF LOVE BECAUSE THEIR A.I. PROGRAMMING LEVEL GOES POST-SINGULARITY AND ALLOWS THEM TO BE EQUALLY AS, IF NOT MORE SO, INTELLIGENT THAN HUMANS. BUT BECAUSE THE CURRENT LEGISLATION DOESN’T RECOGNIZE THEM AS SENTIENT BEINGS THEY STILL FALL UNDER THE ROBOT CATEGORY AND ARE NOT ABLE TO HAVE RIGHTS, UNLIKE THEIR SYNTHETIC COUNTERPARTS.

And that’s the abridged version -__-

anonymous said:

What does "contempt for shared interests" mean?

It means I think we’re both adults and both have our own hobbies and interests and I think we can exist as singular human beings who can maintain their own interests while still being together and not have to involve a lot of “oh, that’s what you like, I want to try really hard to like it and then find out it’s not to my taste and then there’s an undercurrent of resentment every time it comes up”, but then I’m one of those weirdos who believes that self-actualization is incredibly important. 

writing....from Vincent....by....Edgar Whitman Wilde

………………….Here in my bedroom I have tried to begin to compose a dialogue with my shadow, but as it seems to live independently of me, isolated by a particular obsession with tenebrous light and thought, I am finding it difficult to construct such an exchange of speech at present. My awareness however is now an extension into its awareness. Into its unconscious and by so doing this can slowly expose the consciousness within my shadow. Reveal the plausibility of falsifying potential that may exist in compounded sexual singularities and this is the closest we can come to a reality.
Anyway if I look for any sort of certainty now it is in the mirror of my bedroom for that is where I know my shadow resides. I have to enter and swim through its photographic glass, to find the negative on the other side, to engage my shadow. It is in this dimension where imagination is the true reality, where converse with my shadow is possible. In order to achieve this journey into psychological disarrangement into another dimension I am drinking large amounts of red wine and consuming quantities of drugs……………………..

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

I see the strings as surely as I feel their tangibility.
— 

Strings of spider-web singularities
strung together with the glue
of dew drop affinities,
sparking in the light
of the sun and moon
from twilight to twilight.

From black holes to worm holes,
energy waves and particles
to electrons, protons and matter;
from the grass and the trees
to the cities and bees,
from nature to humanity
and all that we call reality;
I see the strings as surely
as I feel their tangibility.

Like gravity,
and though evidence
brings about believably,
imagination fills in
the blanks
of our uncertainty.

We must open ALL 
of our eyes
and make peace
with possibilities,
take on change
with the evolution
of our mentalities,
navigate our differences
to ensure our compatibility
for we are but a step
in the cosmic infinity.

- solushospes

you are the seed of my salty womb
a ray of mist caught in a singular beam
of morning light
a skiff of snow, melting into unfathomable prisms just on the edge
of a perfect mountain ledge

I kissed your watery eyes and let my lips rest on your powdery skin
I drank the smell of you like elixir for my pain

you beamed
oh how you always have
you are the essence of sunshine within
a human form
& you’re eternal, here, nested in this chest of mine

—  Itziar Verría
~for Arika-double digits baby!

Practice with Pronouns is a site that lets you practise subject, object, possessive, and reflexive forms of English third person pronouns. It comes with a few of the most common options, but you can also fill in whatever pronouns you like. Useful for both English learners and people wanting to practise using nonbinary pronouns.  

As if it couldn’t get any more delightful, it often uses quotes from Welcome to Night Vale in the practice sentences, which is definitely far more entertaining than See Spot Run. The feedback sentences are also very cute. 

(Hm, I’m pretty sure the second blank in that screenshot should have said “xyr”, in retrospect.)

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