eyes burn blind

WYNNE ANDERSON, twenty-one you with the sad smile don't lose your c o u r a g e

[anderswynne-blog]

“Would you mind moving? You’re blocking the light.”

[anderswynne-blog]

isabellaxnikolov:

Isabella walked into the town center, just hoping to grab a burger and fries before things got too crazy and filled with commercialized booths and gooey feelings of loss and compassion for the festival. It made her a little sick, and yet, unless something better came along, she would certainly find herself there once the lights came up and the food trucks started cooking. “So… this is what they call ‘honoring the dead’, huh?” She asked with her fingers making dramatic quotations in the air. “Seems more like an excuse to sell bad hand-made jewelry and lanterns to wandering visitors and old cat women who haven’t left their home since their husbands, Sherman, died.”

          The woman’s words strike Wynne deeply, and she can feel her cheeks flushing as she glances at the paintings that surround her. The woman made it seem like they were taking advantage of those grieving, that they were commercializing death. “I never thought about it like that,” her voice is soft, hardly above a whisper. She looks at the woman with wide eyes, adding, “It’s just -- I guess that, this festival, it’s better than ignoring the memories of those who’ve died. This is meant to be a time for reminiscing of happier moments. If a trinket makes someone grieving feel better, I can’t see it as an entirely bad thing.”

[anderswynne-blog]

elijahmeadowsmg:

“Wouldn’t you believe it, about a billion lights out here and not a single booth has accidentally caught fire. I mean, objectively, that’s a good thing, of course, not saying it isn’t. But I sure wouldn’t say no to the excitement of something like that.”

          Wynne lets an awkward laugh spill from her lips before saying, “That’s absolutely horrible to say, or to think -- whatever. Exciting? I think it would be absolutely terrifying.” She reaches a hand absently to touch the edge of a canvas she has sitting on her table, saying, “Fire can be an awful thing in itself, and then to add in the trauma of how much physical destruction it could cause? Not exciting, not in the least.” 

[gail-interrupted]

Pre-Festival

[anderswynne-blog]

gail-interrupted:

❝Hey there! What’re you doing? Do you need help? I’ve got a free hand.❞

          “Oh, yes please.” Without a word more, Wynne thrusts a box of miscellaneous paintings towards Gail. “I think I might have gotten a bit overzealous when I was deciding what to bring.” Her voice trails off, a quiet laugh escaping her lips, as her gaze turns to land on her car. There is another box of paintings on the rear seat, and then a tub with paints and canvas and brushes right next to it. “Might be better to be over-prepared than underprepared, yeah?”

[praejack-deactivated20250227]

@anderswynne

ART. The purpose of it all, beyond capturing reality with a few strokes of paint, was lost on him –– then again, he wasn’t much of an imaginative person. The way he thought was linear and logical; brainstorming outside of the box was far as he got to abstract thinking. While blind to the narratives woven into art, he could still appreciated the effort put into the creative process. Wynne worked effortlessly on her current piece; what she possessed was the kind of raw talent he did not have, but admired from afar. Henry moved around her silently, as not to disturb her in the middle of her craft … until he was standing directly between her and the subject of her painting. 

“Oh, am I in your way?”

[anderswynne-blog]

Wynne had always thought that long days were good for getting odd errands and tasks done -- of course, that was only true if she set out to complete those things. She had woken up in the morning to sunlight rushing through the windowpanes, bright blue skies and fluffy clouds greeting her. In a decision that took no second guessing, she had readied herself for the day before grabbing her easel and paints and leaving her flat. 

There was a spot not too far from the woods that she had a fondness for. It wasn’t too far off the beaten path, but most often she wasn’t bothered. Some time later, finally settling down into a rhythm, she had become lost in her thoughts and her eyes only moved from between the canvas and the scenery right in front of her. The sounds of footsteps on grass had gotten through to her, but they were not a large distraction. What mattered was that she could see -- and that was when Henry stepped in front of her.

She pursed her lips, her fingers tightening around her brush when she said, “You can stand there if you want.” She had already sketched out the basis of the painting she wanted to do in pencil on canvas, and even without seeing its inspiration firsthand it wasn’t impossible to continue. She knew the colors didn’t have to be identical, that she could vary it if she pleased.

[anderswynne-blog]

muse questions

1: What kind of childhood did he or she have?

2: What's their profession and how did they get there?

3: How do they deal with conflict and change?

4: What is their favourite place to be and how would they describe it?

5: Who was their first true love?

6: What is their deepest regret?

7: How would they describe their parents?

8: What is their favourite time period & why?

9: What is their favourite genre of music & why?

10: What are they most influenced by?

11: If someone were to be angry with them, what would be the reason?

12: What are their most common mannerisms?

13: What do they think about before falling asleep?

14: What are their fondest memories?

15: How would they describe their favourite person/people?

[ofhotheads-blog]

Get to know the people in my muse’s life.

Send me a symbol and I’ll tell you about…

🌟 …someone my muse trusts. 💔 …someone who broke my muse’s heart. 💕 …someone my muse loves.  😒 …someone my muse hates. 🔥…someone my muse would die for. 💀 …someone my muse would kill for. 👻 …someone my muse considers a best friend. 💘 …someone my muse has a crush on. 🔪 …someone my muse hurt in the past. 👀 …someone my muse likes, but doesn’t trust. 💩 …someone my muse dislikes, but admires. 👿 …someone my muse used to like, but doesn’t anymore. 😉 …someone my muse has had sex with. 💋 …someone my muse used to date. 😜 …someone who makes my muse laugh. 👪 …someone in my muse’s family. 👑 …someone my muse is jealous of. 👊 …someone who hates my muse. 👫 …someone who has a crush on my muse. 👌 …someone my muse has only met once, but will never forget. 🍓…someone my muse has never met, but wants to meet. 👰 …someone my muse would consider marrying.

[anderswynne-blog]

micahdanvers:

Micah studied the woman’s intense gaze, how it was entirely consumed by the artistry crafted with her own imagination until it was abruptly cut short by the snap of her pencil. “I wouldn’t order one if it weren’t,” he responded entirely without venom. “Why? You considering something stronger than beer?” With irises glancing between the stranger and her sketchbook, he opted to take the honest approach about his observations. Lifting a pen off the bar from where another person had signed their bill, he dropped it beside her fingers. “You know, you have a real talent. I’ve never seen anyone make something like that with just a pencil.”

“Fair point -- most don’t voluntarily subject themselves to things they don’t like,” Wynne conceded with a slight tilt of her head. She took a sip of her drink before adding, “But no, I don’t think I am. I know how many of these it’ll take to get me drunk, and I’d consider myself hesitant to throw anything else into the mix.” Wynne had asked her question out of idle curiosity, spurred by the loss of her pencil. A grin spread across as her face as she watched him grab the pen and put it near her. She picked it up, testing it with a scribble on her hand rather than the paper, saying, “Thanks. For the pen and the compliment.” For as modest as Wynne usually came off, the one thing she was confident in was her art. “It’s really the only thing I’m good at, though.”

[anderswynne-blog]

cxllmecassandra:

“I was afraid I’d hear that. I’ve got half a mind to start my own shop.”

“I’m sure a lot of people here would thank you, myself included. I’m Wynne, by the way, and you are?”

[anderswynne-blog]

rowanduvalmg:

“I don’t think I will,” Rowan said. “It’s, um - let’s just say it’s complicated, but I’m kinda stuck here. Trust me, if I had the option to go somewhere else, I would have taken it. Although, I would’ve settled down once I got there, I figure. Don’t think I could imagine moving all over the place forever. Gotta be some sort of middle ground between being stuck and being nowhere.”

A shrug of her shoulders was the only response she gave. To her, claiming to be stuck here seemed like a refusal on Rowan’s part to try and go anywhere else -- she didn’t say this idea aloud for fear of being rude. “I suppose there is. Maybe you move somewhere, and then travel somewhere else after sometime, but always return to where you started. That might be a fair middle ground.” She scuffed the front of her shoe on the ground, kicking up some of the dust. For as long as she remembered, the life she had lived was nomadic. She traveled, and drifted. It might not have made sense to many others, but it made sense to her.

[anderswynne-blog]

cxllmecassandra:

“Oh, I love that outfit. Don’t tell me there’s actually a good shopping center in town.”

“Sorry to spoil it for you -- but I actually brought this with me when I moved here. Bentley is still small and lacking as ever.”

[anderswynne-blog]

isabella-nikolov:

“Seriously? You’re following me? I’m really not in the fucking mood right now.”

“Is this a thing with pretty girls in this town? Thinking that anyone going in a direction that is mildly like their own is following them? Really -- get over yourself.”

[anderswynne-blog]

gonelilyhudson:

"It’s good to hear that. Most people don’t appreciate me. They think I’m weird. But they don’t understand me.’’ She didn’t want to mention her tragic love life. "Really? Yay, now I’m so excited! I want something special for my boyfriend. There’s a strong connection between us, and I think  that he deserves a present from me.’’

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Wynne replied, offering Lily a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you just need to find the right people to have in your life.” She reached for the cup she had on the table, taking a sip as she listened to the other speak. “What were you thinking? For the painting, I mean. A picture of you, or the pair of you?”

[anderswynne-blog]

clarabvnnett:

“Probably, but I have places to go and people to see. Besides, it doesn’t hurt too much, it’s just swollen.”

“I hope you realize that’s not going to do it very good -- not resting it, I mean. But if it doesn’t hurt now, just be sure to take a break if it does.”

[caradelevingnes]

[haunted-fletcher-blog]

“Ah, thank you,” Lyla said, taking the book from the girl.  It was a lot easier to keep the place organized when patrons actually gave them books like this.  She couldn’t stand finding things in the wrong place, especially after not being able to find them for someone.  She glanced down at the title,”  That’s an interesting choice.”

[anderswynne-blog]

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, taking a step back. She was just about to turn around and leave when the woman spoke. “Oh, is it?” To Wynne, it wasn’t. It was normal. “It’s just something on Vuillard. I’ve always admired his use of light and shadow in his paintings.”

[anderswynne-blog]

gonelilyhudson:

‘’Why are you laughing? Oh wait,let me rephrase that. Why aren’t you angry?Most people hate my comments.’’ For the first time in a long time,she was surprised. "So,you’re a painter? That’s nice. You know, I want to buy something very unique for one very important person in my life. Could you draw something for me?’’

“I don’t know -- maybe because I see no reason to be?” Wynne replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Not much angered her, least of all petty comments by someone she didn’t even know. She found it an easy thing to let things roll off her back, to be disaffected. It made looking at life less of a stressor. “I am, yes.” She paused, looking at the girl, before nodding her head slowly. “I could. What do you want?”