#had to look up degas and seurat
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8, 16 and 19 (word: love) for the WIP ask 👀💛
So far this morning I have cancelled a meeting, put it back on the calendar, and cancelled it again. I've been at work for less than two hours. Which is to say, clearly this is a better use of my time. Thank you!
#8 - What is the last scene you’ve written?
For knave-verse it was what I posted on Sunday, because this week so far has been full of the kind of days where you're busy from the minute you wake up but somehow feel like you've accomplished nothing.
#16 - Write the next 5 sentences and share.
Cheating slightly because this was already written, but this is the end of the scene from above and is more or less verbatim a conversation I had with a college boyfriend who did not eat pork except for bacon because it was delicious, and made an exemption for crabs because his father's family was from Baltimore.
Carlos smothers a laugh and steals an onion ring when Amy leaves. TK gapes for another minute and then squirts a pool of ketchup onto the plate and dips an onion ring in it contemplatively. "The salad has bacon in it."
His lips twitch. "She probably leaves it out for the vegetarians." He pauses, "She'd probably leave it out for you too if you asked."
TK looks baffled for a moment, and then. "Oh, no. I'm a shitty Jew, and bacon is delicious."
He blinks and wonders how he'd never noticed this about TK before. "Wait, does that mean my mother doesn't have to figure out how to make frijoles refritos without lard? She keeps trying and saying it doesn't taste quite right, and she wants to make them perfect for you."
TK freezes with an onion ring halfway to his mouth. "Shit, seriously? That's really nice of her."
"She really likes you," he says helplessly and gives into the absurdity and laughs.
TK chews and swallows. "Well, tell her I appreciate the effort, and I'm probably not quite shitty enough a Jew to eat pork chops, but a little bit of bacon or lard in the frijoles refritos isn't going to bother me." He eats another onion ring thoughtfully. "There's a carve out on the pork prohibition for times of duress. I'm not sure where making your boyfriend's mother like you falls on that scale though."
#19 Where does (the word love) appear in your fic?
I really need to dump all my snippets into an actual document and see if it makes any sense. But.
"He likes Degas and Seurat and Renoir," Carlos says absently, still thinking about Cassel, "He thinks the water lilies are mind numbing."
Tulson snorts. "That tracks. He also thinks all the endless Constable style landscapes of the British countryside are tedious."
It startles Carlos out of his reverie and he gives Tulson a considering look, he's not wrong, it's just always strange to realize that other people know these things about TK too, but because he's a subject in a case file that they've studied, and they've tracked and cataloged his moods and opinions as obsessively as Carlos has but without the overwhelming love that Carlos feels.
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(Wow this set of questions is REAL good) ❝ sometimes, i just need the world to be beautiful. i know how dark and ugly it can be but i just want to see something good and focus only on it for a few minutes. ❞
It's all about the yearning prompts // AO3
Mild cw for discussions of childhood neglect/emotional abuse and the concept of running away from home as a child
To no one’s surprise, London’s skies are grey and there’s a chill in the air that makes neither of them feel like lingering more than necessary. So instead they’ve lingered amongst Monet, Seurat, Reubens, Van Gogh, Turner, Degas and Rembrant amongst others in the much more pleasant environment of The National Gallery.
Nemo’s been mostly lulled into comfortable silence (Which they’ve noticed happens a lot around him) as they’ve wandered the galleries with Gerry as he’s given his input (And Nemo’s found he has a lot)
The gallery’s been quiet, not that surprising for a grey weekday afternoon outside of peak tourist season. There’s been a secondary school trip of adolescents of various degrees of enthusiasm that they lost track of several galleries back, a handful of other patrons likely out of season tourists and a few art students studying the masters. (Nemo had noticed Gerry watching the students with a wistful look before they’d moved on)
They’ve been bathed in comfortable silence for a long while now only broken by the occasional echo of footsteps from the nearby corridor as they’ve sat on one of the wooden benches, another grand oil painting from another Old Master before them.
Gerry breaks the silence with a snort that sounds like he’s bitten off a chuckle.
“What?”
“Just… remembered something.”
“What?”
“I…” Gerry pauses, “First time I tried to run away.”
Nemo turns to him, “I… How old were you?”
Gerry sighs, “I was… eight? I think,” He pauses, “Mum had left me alone to deal with… something and I decided it was a great idea to finally run away and I came here,./
“Why?”
“I… Don’t really know why… or don’t really remember,” Gerry shrugs, “Just had some idea I could live here, hadn’t really planned all the details out,” He snorts, “Not much has changed on that front.”
Nemo offers a weak chuckle in response, “Then what happened?”
Gerry shrugs, “I… stayed here for a few hours seemingly unnoticed and then realised maybe running away wouldn’t really work and I went back home.”
Nemo turns to him, their expression a combination of concern and confusion.
“No one noticed you?”
He shrugs again, “Yeah no idea how that worked, guess people just assumed I was with whatever adult was nearest to me, I think there was a school trip here on that day so I guess people thought I was a straggler. I managed to slip through the barriers at the tube station easily enough, and somehow I just knew what trains I needed.”
“Gerry Keay, faredodger, I never expected.”
Gerry snorts, “I do mostly pay for my tickets these days.”
There’s a long pause before Nemo speaks up,
“Did…” Nemo pauses, “Did she-”
“She was still out,” Gerry tenses his hand grips the edge of the bench, “Nearly made myself sick thinking she’d find out either that I made some mistake to expose myself or that she’d just know what I did but she never mentioned it-”
“Gerry-”
“I’m ok,” Gerry sighs and relaxes his grip, “She came home late, I pretended I was asleep and woke up the next morning and it was… normal,” He gives a bitter snort, “I mean as normal as it ever is with her.”
“And?”
“Made me realise eventually I could maybe pull one over once in a while, guess it was one of my first acts of petty rebellion,” He pauses, “Or maybe she wants me to think that, let me occasionally get away with something so I lower my guard and-” Gerry claps his hands together to pantomime something getting crushed and the sound echoes around the gallery.
“Cheery thought.”
“Comes with the territory, right?” Gerry laughs, seems a little brighter, “Have that moody freak reputation to hold up…”
“You’re not that moody.”
“Didn’t say anything about me not being a freak though.”
“Well that’s undeniable,” Nemo grins, “And I’d like you a lot less if you weren’t one and anyway us freaks need to stick together right?”
Gerry’s actually smiling by this point, whatever looming darkness seems to have been shoved back into its box for now.
“Yeah.”
Nemo shuffles closer to him, “So… art?”
“Art.”
“You know a lot about it?”
“I guess I kinda do?” Gerry sighs and gives Nemo a brief smile, “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever really been able to talk about it with,”
Nemo smiles
“Does… she… mind?” Nemo pauses, “That you’re into art?”
“Weirdly she doesn’t,” Gerry pauses, “I don’t think she’s as fond of my interest in the… academics of it? Probably feels i’t a distraction from her bigger picture but she does seem to like the fact I’m apparently not totally terrible at actually making it”
Nemo gives him a nudge, “I’d say you’re a bit better than ‘not totally terrible’”
Gerry grins and nudges Nemo back, “Maybe I’m just fishing for compliments,”
Nemo nudges him harder (Not that it makes much impact on him) and Gerry chuckles.
Gerry shrugs, “Yeah I don’t know maybe she just appreciates the fact it was a way to keep me out of trouble as a kid when she wasn’t… teaching me,”
With a sigh Gerry leans back, his attention on the ceiling long enough he starts counting the panes in the skylight and Nemo leans into his shoulder. And although this has become a feature in the time they’ve known each other this time Gerry feels a warmth blossom to his cheeks that almost derails his thoughts instead after a pause he wonders if it bordered on awkwardly long he says
“There’s a lot of fucked up shit out there,”
Part of Nemo wants to respond with ‘You’re telling me’ or ‘No shit’ but instead keeps quiet.
“And art,” Gerry pauses as he tries to get the words together, “Art… there can be fucked up shit in there too but it’s contained and it can’t hurt you… not really. It can make you uncomfortable, it can scare you, it can make you have to face things you don’t want to but at the end of the day it has no claws,” His gaze drops from the ceiling, “And often there’s still something beautiful there,” Gerry sighs, “And even the most realistic art is just… an approximation of reality, it’s all an escape really.”
“An escape?”
“Yeah…” Gerry pauses, “And I mean,” He gestures to the painting they’ve been seated across from, “Look at it,”
“It’s beautiful,” Nemo offers up.
“Exactly,” Gerry pauses again, “It’s… See there it’s art, it’s beautiful, it’s all contained within that gilded frame, nothing more nothing less, it’s an escape into an approximation of reality where-”
“Nothing bad happens?”
“Yeah,” Gerry sighs, he shifts his gaze away from the painting towards Nemo, “Everything is kind of fucked up and ugly out there when you look at it for too long,” And finds he’s again taking in every little detail in Nemo’s face, the exact shape of their hairline on the shaved side of their face, the distance between the piercings in their ear, the exact constellations of freckles against their cheeks, the rounded tip of their nose, the shape of their lips, how it all adds up to make their specific profile. “And maybe sometimes I need things to be beautiful and look at something… good for a while.”
Gerry swallows and then shifts his focus back to the painting, he only just realises that Nemo hooked their little finger around his at some point whilst he was talking. Nemo settles against him again and that warmth comes to his cheeks once more and with a soft sigh he relaxes against Nemo.
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Short: An Unexpected Exhibit
Kim Namjoon x Reader
(written as non-idol Namjoon but could be read as idol I guess!)
Summary: You're just trying to enjoy the gala for the new museum wing opening when your art rival shows up. Except this time your bickering takes a different turn.
CW: some cursing, nothign else unless you get really worked up about strong art opinions
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An Unexpected Exhibit
You stood in the foyer, looking up at the stacked cubes.
“It’s a block tower.”
Your mom sighed beside you, “Y/N… How much did I spend on that degree of yours just for you to blaspheme an entire movement like this? I know you take great delight in taunting me but if you’re going to disparage minimalism as a form of art you could at least use language more advanced than a three-year-old.”
You grinned. A lifetime of disagreements on art had you both well-versed in the ways to needle each other. Your degree in Art History had taught you all the greats, but you had focused more on classical art, particularly Impressionist and post-Impressionist masters –Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Monet, Cezanne, Degas, Mary Casset. Older was good too; you’d written papers and spent hours, days, weeks pouring over art from older movements too: Baroque, Gothic, Renaissance, Neoclassicism. For a while you had thought Folk Art might be where your passion lay, particularly of Central and South America. And yes, you had an appreciation for more than Western Art, despite what one particularly snooty person had accused you of. Japonisme art had been your stepping stone from European Impressionism to a deeper study of Eastern Art schools because you didn’t want to only consume Eastern style art through the lens of Europe. Hiroshige, Utamaro, and Hokusai were plenty familiar to you, though your favorite Eastern art came from the Shin-hanga movement in the 20th century.
The 20th century though was when things got wobbly for you. Impressionism, Post-Impressionism… well, Pissarro and Seurat called to you. Surrealism started to lose you; the absurd as a concept sort of gave you a headache and didn’t feel as remarkable to you as capturing more accurately the things around you. Modernism and Expressionism felt largely bleak and empty. Constructivism was messy. Pop art… ok? So what? At least Art Nouveau was gorgeous and captured that abstraction of real life, its hazy, ephemeral, dreamlike quality without slicing away everything that felt alive about it and leaving you looking at…
Blocks.
“It’s not that I don’t understand modern art,” you frowned, crossing your arms. “I get what minimalism is trying to say and do…”
“Actually…” You flinched at the low voice suddenly near your arm. Of course. Of course he was here tonight. “Judd isn’t trying to say anything. He believed the art he made should simply exist in itself, in the space it inhabits, and in the experience of the–”
“Did you really come here to mansplain art to an Art History major?” you sighed, turning to face him. To look up at him, actually, because he was stupid tall. He always towered over everyone.
He gave you that smug grin, “But you don’t like Modern Art. I thought you might not be familiar with Judd–”
“Of course I’m familiar with Judd.”
“You are right she doesn’t appreciate most contemporary movements, though,” your mother said, and, before you could stop this catastrophe from getting worse, “You must be Namjoon Kim.”
Instead of immediately taunting you with the fact that you had apparently mentioned him before, Namjoon held his hand out, “I’m honored, Ms. [Your last name]. I’m a serious admirer of your work.” Of course he was. You rolled your eyes at what was not surprising to you at all. How many times had you endured the exact same art arguments with Namjoon as you had with your mom? Except that your mom was an actual artist who made art and also not such an asshole when she disagreed with you. Namjoon was just a collector. He didn’t even have your degree, but he sure talked like he did!
“How flattering, thank you. It’s wonderful to meet young people who can appreciate my work since not all do.” She gave you a playfully pointed look and you glared.
“Your art is meaningful,” you defended. “You know I admire your work objectively, even if it doesn’t always resonate with me personally–”
“A scholar,” your mom laughed.
“A scholar, a collector, and an artist,” Namjoon mused, looking between the three of you like there was anything at all amusing about this. There wasn’t. You had known this meeting was inevitable but you were tired from being on your feet all day and had not wanted to deal with … this… today.
You narrowed your eyes at him and prodded, “Don’t you have something to go collect? Go on.”
“Nothing is for sale tonight.”
“Yes, so why are you even here?”
“Why are you here? Your wing isn’t even open tonight. I half expected to see you in there anyway… sneaking under the rope with a flashlight.”
“Well give me ten more minutes around here and I may do it,” you admitted. You had agreed to come to the gala marking the opening of this new Blue Wing of the museum with your mother because that’s what you did, what you had always done, the two of you spending many long afternoons wandering this museum or that, disagreeing on the fundamentals of art. You loved it and she loved it too, because though your views weren’t aligned, there was respect there, even if you also liked to tease and press. Before her career took off, you’d been there at every early showing and helped with those small installations as a little girl; now that she was a big deal, you enjoyed arriving on her arm, well-dressed and ready to share your opinions. But calmly.
Not so with Namjoon, who sometimes got so red in the face with disbelief and frustration when the two of you argued that you thought maybe you ought to throw a glass of water on him, help him cool down. Maybe then he could check himself and see clearly how wrong and offensive it was. What, did he think his views were superior just because he had a shit ton of money from some mysterious place and bought up art like it was going out of business? You wondered if art patrons of old were as insufferable as him.
“Don’t you dare go wandering, Y/N,” your mother warned, and Namjoon angered you with his smile. He didn’t even know what he was smiling about, the moment your mother was referencing (ok, maybe multiple moments) when you would break away from her or tour groups and find a place to park your ass in a museum in front of some larger than life painting and just exist with it.
“I’m sure she won’t, I was only joking,” Namjoon clarified. “That would require breaking rules, and Y/N prefers everything follow a clearly defined tradition, with obvious meaning and clear parallels to real life that are impossible to misunderstand–”
“Ha!” you scoffed. “We only know any of the old painters to this day because they made new rules. Don’t you dare dismiss an entire history like that. Each new movement was a step beyond anything that had come before.”
Namjoon nodded, “Yes, so why do you insist art had to stop evolving? Human experience is so much more complex than anything the older painters every experienced–”
“Well that’s elitist. How can you say that? Maybe our technology has advanced, and our connectedness, but you have no basis to think the depth of our experience is any different!”
“Your beloved Van Gogh, how broad was his world? He traveled to what, two, three countries? Meanwhile I’ve been all over the world–”
“So impressive,” you interrupted, barely suppressing the eyeroll.
“You’d love the National Museums of China and the National Palace Museum in Taipei –and the National Museum of Korea is– well, if there’s room in your head for Asian art, I think you’d love them.”
You sighed deeply and gave your mom a look, “Are all collectors like this?”
“Art students are like that after a summer backpacking around museums…” she said, looking away pointedly.
“I haven’t been around Europe much,” Namjoon admitted. “I mean, England and Italy. Your sweet spot is France and the Netherlands…”
“Yes,” you said, arms crossed. “Not just my sweet spot. The art that came from there was revolutionary at its time– but it doesn’t matter, I can and do appreciate art that comes from Asia as well. I don’t know why you always bring that up, just because I didn’t specialize in it–”
“No, more because you haven’t been yet. I just think you should see some of it in person.”
“Ah, I once believed that about contemporary art too, that if I could just expose her to enough, she’d fall in love,” your mom said. “Turns out her tastes are deeply embedded and it’s hard to change her mind once it’s set. It’s always such a victory to find a contemporary piece that makes her light up.”
“Her tastes are very specific,” Namjoon agreed.
You cried, “All right, as if you don’t just buy the same piece of art over and over again!”
“I would be happy to show you the range of my collection if you could give it a chance,” he said, and you could see his face getting red. He could try to sound cool as a cucumber to your mom, but you knew he was as rabid and evangelical about the art he loved as you were. And there was just not enough overlap to your tastes for the two of you to ever get along.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on it,” you said. “I’ll leave you two to fawn over Judd. More champagne, Mom? I’ll get it.”
You did not, just stomped off to get a new glass of champagne for yourself. When you glanced over a few minutes later, Namjoon and your mom had moved onto another work of art together. Namjoon gestured broadly at the piece, clearly talking out of his ass as your mom politely listened. Poor dear, but if she hadn’t wanted to be abandoned with a “serious admirer” maybe she shouldn’t have taken his side. She clearly had, right? Just because they liked the same kinds of art? She knew better than to just make it obvious you had ranted about him, always followed by you bullying her into promising she would keep her mouth shut if and when she happened to run into him someday –which again, you had known was inevitable, because Namjoon had mentioned on multiple occasions how “absurd” it was that you were your mother’s daughter when she was so famous for the type of art you could barely fein enthusiasm for.
Namjoon. Namjoon Kim was so fucking annoying. He’d annoyed you ever since you’d met him through mutual friend Taehyung Kim –who was also very into art, but much more flexible in his tastes, and also not such an asshole when he disagreed. He didn’t seem to care as much about being right. He was open to the ideas that contradicted his own beliefs!
Anyway, it wasn’t fair for either one of them to say you couldn’t appreciate Contemporary Art. That was like saying you hated all people. It was too broad and completely untrue. You didn’t hate all Contemporary Art. You just didn’t like Modernism, Post-Modernism, Minimalism, Post-Minimalism… that… stuff. Performance art made you uncomfortable even if you’d seen a few exhibits that had left you overwhelmed in a thoughtful and remarkable way. Contemporary Artists had lots to say and you recognized and respected that. Not only the messages but the mediums were more varied than at any point in history –not that you would say that to Namjoon, who would take it as victory. He’d insist it was proof that human experience was so much more profound than it had once been.
But you’d published a paper on this even! Maybe only in a minor magazine but still, you had done your research and talked about how some popular Contemporary Art tried to address the overwhelming data received of the Information Age by simplifying it, analyzing it. That’s why traditional art was still so valuable, because it could stop trying to say so much and instead just focus in on some singular aspect of life, and really let you look at that. For a moment, your world could focus on a single thought, a single emotion, a single still life, just like some painter two hundred years ago did, and see how life was still so connected through the generations, even when the whole world seemed to change.
You stared longingly in the direction of the older wings of the museum, but Namjoon was right, they had been roped off for the gala. All guests were supposed to concentrate only on the new wing tonight, and keep their Champagne far away from any of the galleries with exhibits that could be ruined by an overzealous gesture like Namjoon had been making with his empty glass.
Instead your gaze landed on a temporary exhibit in the wing in between this new Blue Wing and your favorite Green Wing. No velvet rope to step over there. The bright colors and bold patterns drew you closer but the faces of the subjects were what kept you present. The blend of contemporary clothing with traditional postures and timeless expressions was powerful.
“Love it or hate it?”
“Why are you always creeping up on me?” you demanded, only glancing over your shoulder as Namjoon once again approached. “Weren’t you talking to my mom?”
“Yes, I think she really likes me.”
“She won’t give you a discount.”
“I don’t need a discount.”
“You’re insufferable,” you sighed. “Who brags about wealth as much as you do–”
“No! I’m… not bragging about wealth. I meant– nevermind.” He sighed and shook his head, and that annoyed you too, the disengagement. He never usually disengaged! About the only thing you could respect.
Before you could press him to just say what he meant, he repeated his question, “Do you love it or hate it?”
“I think Kehinde Wiley is incredible,” you answered. He looked up at the painting as well, a regal woman in Renaissance garb holding a severed head: Judith Beheading Holofernes, a direct reference to a work by Caravaggio. “You may not know this, but this painting is a reference to–”
“Caravaggio,” Namjoon interrupted. “I may be a hobbyist but I do know a lot about art. Besides, you’ve yelled at me about him before.”
Instead of remarking on that, you mused anyway, “This reimagining is glorious. Caravaggio’s painting famously depicts Judith’s ambivalence for what she must do, even though she beheads the invading General Holofernes in order to save her people. Then there’s Artemisia Gentileschi’s version, Judith is all concentrated business… It’s interesting, the ambivalence painted by a man and the concentration painted by a woman… But then you have this, none of the gore, just the glory. She’s not apologetic or disgusted. She had a job to do and she did it and now she looks…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, and about two paintings Namjoon couldn’t even see right now and probably couldn’t as easily call to mind as you had. You had always loved seeing the way male and female painters handled the same subject matter, or how different time periods influenced the handling of subject matter. History was a wheel that repeated itself, the heroes in one generation were the demons of the next. The story of Judith was Biblical, after all. Old. An old badass woman.
“I know what your mom means about your face lighting up.”
You failed not to roll your eyes this time and argued, “I love art. Just because I don’t agree with you on what I think makes good art doesn’t mean–”
“Yeah, we don’t usually agree,” he laughed. “We agree about Kehinde Wiley though. It’s not the kind of art I put up around my home but I still think it’s powerful.”
“Hm, too many people, not enough… blank space and columns?”
He snorted and shook his head, “Yun Hyong Keun isn’t the only artist I’ve bought. Thibaud Hérem, he’s French.”
“I’m not familiar,” you admitted.
“What do you think of paintings of flowers?” Namjoon asked. “You only like things with people?”
“No, I like flowers too,” you said pointedly. “I appreciate life in my art, just not…” You gestured but trailed off as he’d pulled his phone out to show you something, then shook his head and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Ah, it would be nice to walk you through what I have in Seoul and see what you actually like from it. Joung Young Ju, do you know her? She paints cityscapes. There aren’t visible people in them, but there are… rooftops and warm lights and you can feel life… that’s what you like.”
“... Yes. That’s the kind of thing I like,” you admitted begrudgingly because you didn’t appreciate Namjoon seeming to take great joy in finally articulating your particular passion. His dumb handsome face lit up now and it annoyed you. He was the kind of man it was far more enjoyable to fight with than make peace with because he was just so… so…
“Ok, look at this,” he said, deciding at last to pull out his phone. He showed you a photo from his gallery, encouraging you to zoom in. “This is my new one by her…” You studied the blue and brown and beige rooftops, buildings stretching off into the distance between the lush green mountains. Spots of bright lights dotted the page, evidence of unseen lives taking place inside the buildings or hidden down on the streets below.
“What do you like about it?” you found yourself asking before admitting that yes, it passed your personal preference tests. You liked it.
“Life is busy and noisy,” he said. “A painting like this, it lets you step back from the individual noise and appreciate the community, the shared human experience. Nighttime is a shared experience.”
“You like to feel like a god?” you asked, quirking your eyebrow.
He literally slapped his hand to his face and sighed, “Why. Why, Y/N? Why is everything I say always the wrong thing with you?”
“I… I was just joking,” you admitted, handing him his phone back.
“I just want to talk art with you. I respect your opinions so much but–”
“Since when?! All we ever do is fight about art and–”
He smiled, “Yeah! I’ve never met someone who has such opposing art views but your opinions come from a place of thoughtfulness and education. It’s awesome. I learn so much every time I talk with you about art.” This stunned you to hear. Stunned you. And it clearly showed on your face because now he looked less certain and asked, “You um… wait, do you hate talking to me that much?”
Your instinct was to say yes, but for a beat you only stared at him, stunned by his answer and by this confession that he looked forward to your arguments. You thought he must be fucking with you, but he looked so earnest right now that it occurred to you maybe he was telling the truth.
“I don’t… hate… it,” you offered slowly, torn now as you tried to contemplate what your own truth was. His loud laughter earned you looks from several other guests walking by; you quickly shushed him.
But he shook his head, still chuckling, “See? I like that about you. Your opinions are blunt, even if… damn.”
Now you felt like an asshole and it made you defensively insist, “You’re just always so… pushy! I enjoy a healthy debate, but it’s like you want me to defend every single opinion–”
“Ya I want you to explain them to me so I can learn what you see.”
He made that sound so nice, you glared harder as you argued, “And you’re always like name dropping and location dropping and wealth dropping–”
“Ah…” Now he looked sheepish and scratched his head, looking uncomfortably away. “Sorry…”
“You think you’re better than everyone–”
“I don’t think I’m better than anyone,” he insisted, “Especially not you. I just, uh…” Damn, he looked so uncomfortable you almost felt bad for him. Almost. “Look, you’re just…”
You crossed your arms and popped your hip out and gave him your iciest glare, “I’m just what?”
“Intimidating. Exactly like you look right now. Intimidating,” he said, gesturing to you not wholly differently than he’d been gesturing to the Judd exhibit earlier.
“I am not intimidating– how is someone like you possibly intimidated by me?”
“Yeah, you’re opinionated and intelligent and… and blunt,” he said, a smile stretching so wide his dimples showed. “You’re a lot to keep up with and I just am trying to keep up.”
“By bragging about–”
“I’m not trying to brag about anything. I mean unless… uh… you think I’m impressive?”
The uncertain look he aimed at you was infuriatingly handsome. Much more handsome than his smug grin or the frustrated sigh or shake of his head you usually saw. Or maybe you were just more open to it now since he was… you know, saying nice things to you. That was unusual for him.
Barely a second had passed before he added, “I think your mom found me impressive.”
“Well go flirt with my mom then,” you snapped and turned to move to another room, literally anywhere but here. “After all, she’s a famous artist–”
“It’s really amusing actually –she and I seem to have a lot of artist appreciation in common.”
You whirled on him, “Are you really saying that you’re hitting on my happily married–”
“No! No no no,” he said, waving his hands between you. “You. Shit. I’m hitting on… you.”
“Here?!”
That wasn’t really your question. Your question was more along the lines of what the fuck? And you? And me?! And maybe another what the fuck? But you had been raised in museums and definitely knew better than to shout that inside of one, especially in the middle of a gala celebrating the opening of a new wing that your mother had helped bring into existence.
“What do you mean, here? In a museum? It’s the only place I ever see you…”
You stepped close, trying to keep your voice low as you insisted, “Are you telling me that everytime you made me want to rip my hair out with your devil’s advocate and your unnecessarily long word choice and your bragging about buying art, you were flirting?”
“Ah…” He licked his lips and looked uncomfortably to the side. “It doesn’t have to be flirting if that’s not– I can see that maybe I was… uh, mistaken…”
“You think I’ve been flirting with you this whole time? You’ve infuriated me! Multiple times!”
“Yeah you infuriate me too! I thought that was the flirting part…”
It was absurd. Never before had that word been so very true and understandable to you. This handsome wealthy man who your friend Taehyung swore was a gentle soul despite you never seeing it, who bickered with you over art, and used the most ridiculous vocabulary even though yours wasn’t even his first language, who seemed eager to stir the shit with you every time you showed up on the scene…
But here you were, causing a scene. You felt eyes on you, and eyes should never be anywhere but the art at a museum. You grabbed his arm, digging your fingers in as you dragged him through the gallery in hot pursuit of a private place for a very weird conversation. He lumbered after you, easily keeping up with his longer stride. There was nowhere though, not until you stepped outside into the cool evening air and let the glass door close behind you. The concrete patio on this side was not a part of the gala, and was probably off limits, but to be honest your mom was a board member for the museum and so you didn’t totally feel like those kinds of rules applied to you. The whole wall of windows wasn’t ideal but at least the window treatments meant lowered visibility from the inside, in order to protect the exhibits of new artists in that hall from any sun exposure during the day.
You stared up at him and tried to remember what you had planned to say before you had dragged him out of there. Something about his ego or his stupid bragging or… or that the way to a woman’s heart was not by making her think you doubted her intelligence or…
“I’m sure my mom found you charming but…”
“Ah,” he said quickly, nodding. “Ok, it’s unwelcome. You can just say that. I misunderstood, my bad. Sorry.” He turned to go and you hadn’t even finished your sentence.
“Yeah can you let me finish my damn thought!”
“Ok ok,” he muttered, planting his feet.
“I don’t always just agree with my mom,” you said. You hesitated but decided to dare admitting, “I thought you just thought I was an idiot.”
“I mean your taste in art is conservative but–”
“For fuck’s sake,” you cried throwing your hands up.
“--but I like it. I think we actually have a lot in common –including a lot of art. And I would uh, like to get to find more of those things. If you want to do that too.”
You stared at him, still trying to catch up that he didn’t actually despise you. You tried to take stock of your own feelings. Did you despise him? He infuriated you. He annoyed you. He antagonized you. But…
But.
But you did sort of enjoy the flush of a heated argument with him. He challenged you in a way no one else in your life really did since college, now that your mom was just used to your views. His appreciation of art did, you had to admit, rival your own, he just had gone about pursuing that love on a different path. He didn’t back down from a heated argument, which was enlivening. Maybe there was a lot mixed into that feeling of anticipation you got when you’d see him walk into an art exhibit or event or auction. You did not want to admit maybe your mom had been onto something when she mused that you talked about him an awful lot for someone you claimed to despite.
“I guess I… do… want to do that to,” you said slowly, half expecting him to just laugh at you, like this was a big joke. You braced yourself. That might be all this was, some low blow final attempt at victory.
Instead, his look of concern melted into a relieved smile, eyes crinkling, dimples out.
“Thank god, you and your mom aren’t going to get me banned from the art world for harassing you–”
“Remains to be seen,” you shrugged. “Depends where you’re taking me for dinner on our date.”
“Depends what kind of food you like. Hm, maybe somewhere traditional… overemphasizes outdated rules– oh! Definitely a place with pictures on the menu, right? So you know exactly what you’re getting–”
“God you are infuriating,” you cried through your laughter because actually that was kind of funny and clever. “I’m not just rule hungry. I appreciate tradition and shared meaning and honesty.”
“Honesty.”
“Nothing deceptive about–”
“Honesty,” he said. “I want to kiss you because you’re all worked up and yelling at me. Do I have to wait for a certain date?”
“You want to kiss me before we’ve even been on a date?!”
“So you do have a rule–”
“It’s not a rule, it’s just– I’m just reeling to go from thinking you hate me to suddenly you just want to kiss me!”
“You said you appreciate honesty! I’m just being honest! Is that too much honesty for you?” You wanted to say no. You didn’t want to just kiss this guy who fifteen minutes ago had been your arch art enemy and now was… whatever… just because he was looking at you like that with that damn handsome smug grin. He was right, you were worked up and yelling at him right now, up at him because he was so tall and… and fine, maybe you’d thought once before about what it would be like to just kiss in the middle of an art argument– but that hadn’t been a real thought or anything!!
Fine, you’d call his bluff.
“Fine, impress me, if you’re so worried about what I think. You want to just jump right to a kiss? There’s not a rule.”
He hesitated, but the transition on his face was immediate. His smile disappeared into a narrower look of concentration. For a moment you believed you had called his bluff after all. He’d been making some weird abstract joke you didn’t get and now he realized his mistake.
But then he did it. Leaned down, gently took hold of your shoulder, and kissed you. It was as clumsy and strong and eager as his art opinions were, for what little space you had to think around it. It was dizzying to go from arguing to kissing in the span of a moment, and before the first date and–
But the feeling was there. Human experience, shared perception, colors and detail and thousands of years of attempts to capture that shrank down to one point of contact: his lips against yours. Lips that talked too much but were sweet with champagne and warm against yours. Big hands circling to your back, holding you close, protecting that fire that transferred so cleanly from argument to kiss.
He was slow to pull away and you just stood there, at a loss for words. For once. This did not make sense to you. Your own behavior didn’t make sense to you. Your own feeling, that the kiss had been too short, was a shock to you. He was crazy! You hadn’t even been on a date yet! And you were crazy to go along with it!
Your eyes took a moment to focus, and the lights from the museum seemed so dizzyingly bright. Behind Namjoon, a painting of bright, bold streaks of color, horizontal, no other shape or form or obvious meaning, briefly seized your attention, gradually guiding you back to life. A sunrise. It looked like a sunrise, but with colors you wouldn’t expect, light blue and white between the red and orange and yellow streaks. It felt perfectly right for this moment and this unexpected kiss. It didn’t make sense. It just felt right.
“I think you’re right,” you admitted quietly. “Maybe we do have some more things in common.”
His eyes went big, jaw dropped, “I convinced you with a kiss? For real?”
“Don’t get smug about it… I didn’t say that–”
“A little smug. You’re impressed. I can see it on your face.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to undo it as soon as we walk back in there.”
“Maybe we should just go straight to dinner then…”
“What? Sneak away from the gala? Don’t you have a new wing to fund or something–”
“Oh. You knew I–”
“Oh my god you donated to the new wing?”
“Well… yeah, I–”
“Yeah ok let’s just go right to dinner.”
He laughed, “Seriously? Ok, yeah, I don’t want to risk it, let’s just go… we can get to coatcheck… are we going to get arrested if we sneak around–”
“My mom’s on the board and you’re an investor so…”
“Oh. Your mom’s on the board, huh? Are you… trying to impress me?” he teased.
God, he was infuriating. In maybe a kind of sexy way. Sometimes.
“Keep your mouth shut and maybe you’ll get another kiss before the night is over,” you scoffed. “Maybe.”
“I don’t think keeping my mouth shut is what got me the kiss.”
“You–”
“All right, say you could be at the moment of creation for any painting in the world. What would you choose–”
You took the hand he held out to you and followed. Until you remembered your mom was on the board and took the lead. You were the museum princess and this was your home turf. Namjoon just tugged your hand back to get you to walk beside him.
“Ok, hear me out, I think I would choose…”
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tagged by @elfsidian, time to make more decisions i hadn’t ever thought i would
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or unsweetened iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafes // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trips or camping trips (neither)// colouring books or watercolour // fairy lights or candles
tagging @cryptidfaunie again because idk anyone else and i am Tired
#i had to look up who both degas and seurat were whoops#this was remarkably evocative of An Aesthetic#i just can't think of what
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ty @yeeting-patriarch !! <3 <3 <3
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or unsweetened iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // coloring books or water color // fairy lights or candle
tagging @wirespulled @unravelingivy and @kibbley :) and anyone else who wants to do it!
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🌚 tagged by @imanetsabr 🌝
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays (i hate musicals too 🤢) // lemonade or unsweetened iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés / unicorns or dragons// gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam// classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or water colour // fairy lights or candles
if you read this then do it bye ✌🏽
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Ttagged by @tinyarmedtrex thanks!
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moons // polka dots or stripes // macaroons or croissants // glitter or matte // DEGAS or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or water colour // fairy lights or candles
#have been to rome very briefly and amsterdam never but i want to go there#had to look up degas and seurat because i am uncultured#road trips and camping trips go together
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I was tagged by @sweethawke
I’ll taaaaag @threefeline @bzrcdragons942 @ironbullsmissingeye @pickleandthequeen
Rules: BOLD what you prefer. Strike through if neither.
Honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // (sparkling)lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // Rome or Amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or water colour // fairy lights or candles
#I had to look up degas or seurat#they're artists#and why rome or amsterdam??#I can't think of what either looks like#off the top of my head
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This or That
I was tagged by @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt (MATT IM SO INDECISIVE WHY?!?!?!)
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or water colour // fairy lights or candles
I TAG @disco-friend @harryhooksgazebos267 @wukindly @lskamil27 AND ANYONE ELSE!!!
#tag game#AAAHHHHHH THIS WAS HARD#im allergic to both strawberries and raspberries 🤷♀️#also i like both classic and modern art EQUALLY#i had no idea who degas or seurat were#lol i had to look them up but i think i like degas more#lol and i didnt pick road trip or camping...#i get car sick so definitely not road trip#but i also hate bugs and dirt so not camping either oof#overall im just bad at this 😂
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this or that
ok damn i leave for like a half an hour and i get tagged by three of my favorites <3 @calpurnias, @mikeswheeler & @mikewheeler, love y’all thanks for thinking of me
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // Rome or Amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun AND moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // Degas or Seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // coloring books or watercolor // fairy lights or candles
i’m gonna go ahead and tag: @fatechica, @dylobriens, @lea-michele, @koridick, @milliebbrowns& @john-mulaney :)
#this was fun thanks y'all for tagging me!!!#i had to look up degas and seurat and degas had a lot of ballet paintings so i picked him#also i cheated bc you CANNOT make me choose between the sun and the moon#it's illegal#about me
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this or that tag
i was tagged by @tearsanddisappointment thanks for tagging me!! this is really cute
lol a lot of our choices were the same!!
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forest // planets or neons // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // humming birds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // Rome or Amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macaroons or croissants // glitter or matte // Degas or Seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or watercolour // fairy lights or candles
hmmm ok i tag @nelumfl0wer @writingsfromtheseaside @lostinskyler @platinumjeon and anyone else who wants to do it!
#tbh had to look up degas and seurat cause i am not an art person#i like greek sculpture!#but I'm more of a literary person tbh#give me an author and i can probably tell you what they wrote lol
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honey & lemon or milk & sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macaroons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or watercolour // fairy lights or candles
TAGGED BY: @crystallising
TAGGING: you !! ( no really i don’t know who’s done this so just. you’re obligated to do it now if you haven’t )
#crystallising#i had to look up degas and seurat and that's very Ruby of me the answer to that one is 'huh'#* hc.
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okay so apparently I’ve been tagged by some people in stuff and I didn’t even realize? since coming back to tumblr for my star war phase I’ve mostly been hanging out in my own corner, with, like, two of my mutuals that are my real life friends who still use tumblr, and only now I checked my mentions and I feel bad for ignoring the tags now, I want to interact with y’all ಥ_ಥ
but since this is my tumblr, I can do what I want so I’m doing the months old tags now because they look fun – imma put them in this one text post though cause yea, I’m so late...
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first one is from @itstimeforstarwars (original tag post) <3
honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or unsweetened iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // coloring books or watercolour // fairy lights or candles
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and second one from dear @kavecika (original tag post) :D
confessing 5 things about star wars
(ranging from personal stories to casual opinions to some more spice)
1. I’m not a growing-up-with-star-wars-kid, I never had any adult fans around to introduce me to it :c I actually made my dad take me to the cinema to watch a star war because it looked fun - but it was 20 years ago, there was no internet to google how to watch this, so we went to see “Attack of the Clones” with no previous knowledge of the universe. I didn’t retain much from that screening. So I actually watched everything as an adult because I wanted to go see “Force Awakens” in cinema. I truly got into it only after “Rise of Skywalker”, though. After seeing it, I was so disappointed with the wasted potential of this story that I went seeking more content (specifically Poe and Finn content at first, too bad the novels write them better than TLJ and TROS did). So 2020 was my year when I started reading novels, watching the animated shows, and basically going balls-deep into gffa. After hyper-fixating on it in lockdown for the last year and a half, I have inhaled more lore than some of my friends who’ve been casual fans for decades :’D
2. After reading the previous point, please consider that I’m thinking of getting a star war tattoo soon hahaha
3. I didn’t like The Bad Batch in “Clone Wars” so I was very mildly excited about their show, ooops. I mostly looked forward to Echo content and the Rex crumbs. But I am growing more fond of them now that the show is actually going
4. I am thoroughly enjoying all the alien p0rn and detailed descriptions of xenodicks/other xenobiology while reading star war иsfw fics. I’ve been into fandoms with demon s3x and robot s3x but this fandom is finally feeding me with some good alien p0rn >:D
5. I am actually kinda afraid of being openly a star war fan in general fandom spaces after enjoying the selected best parts of it in my lockdown bubble but at least for now I am having much fun
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once again, thanks so much for tagging me and sorry for being weird and going back to these tags now after all that time but this was actually fun <3
tagging @deepfriedbread, @amikoroyai, @teirwen if you feel like doing any of the above, but of course feel free to totally ignore me ;)
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Edward G. Robinson, the Art Collector By Raquel Stecher
“I was hooked on art—an addict. The only thing real in the world seemed to be catalogs from dealers, galleries and museums.” - Edward G. Robinson
Edward G. Robinson, the cigar chomping star of such crime dramas as LITTLE CAESAR (’31), BULLETS OR BALLOTS (’36), KID GALAHAD (’37) and KEY LARGO (’48), was a gangster on screen but a refined art collector off screen. What began as a childhood fascination eventually blossomed into a full blown obsession. Robinson often joked that, “you don’t collect paintings, they collect you.” Over the years, Robinson collected over 70 works of art, mostly impressionist and post-impressionist paintings. Art was a lifelong passion of his, one he couldn’t just keep to himself but would share with anyone who would listen.
As a child, Robinson would cut pictures of paintings from magazines and add them to his scrapbooks. According to Robinson biographer Alan L. Gansberg, “he would find his way to museums and art galleries, look around, then head back to the Astor Library to discover, in books, what he had seen and why it was renowned.” Robinson’s love extended beyond just collecting, and he developed a pure love of curation. He wasn’t interested in status. And art dealers soon discovered that he couldn’t be swayed by suggestion or opinion. Robinson’s method of selecting his next acquisition was from pure instinct. If the piece spoke to him, he bought it. If it came with an intriguing backstory, even better.
In his autobiography All My Yesterdays, Robinson shares with readers his many art collecting adventures. He started off by purchasing reproductions which he would lovingly frame and hang on the wall or give to friends. His first real purchase was an oil painting entitled “Cow in the Meadow” which he bought for $2 at auction. Since he earned more money working in theatre and in Hollywood, Robinson caught the art buying bug. He’d visit public galleries and private collections in New York City, London and Paris. Robinson became known among art dealers, who would let him take home a painting for a month before purchasing.
Robinson celebrated big milestones in his life with new art. In his memoir he wrote, “to mark suitably the birth of my son, I bought a good-sized Degas of two dancers and a lovely Pissarro — oh, such a lovely Pissarro — for $2,500 and a Monet painting of some willows for another $2,500.” Robinson fell in love with the work of Georges Rouault, Pablo Picasso, Titian, Francisco Goya, Vincent van Gogh, Paul Gaugin and others. He thought Rembrandt was overrated.
Notable pieces in Robinson’s collection included:
“Daughters of Revolution” by Grant Wood
“The Black Marble Clock” by Paul Cezanne
“Portrait of Père Tanguy” by Vincent van Gogh
“Young Girl with a Hat” by Pierre-Auguste Renoir
“The Artist’s Mother” by Edouard Vuillard
“L’Italienne” by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot
“Figure of a Woman (Before the Theater)” by Berthe Morisot
“Jane Avril Dancing”” by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
“View of Le Crotoy, from Upstream” by Georges Seurat
“The Vase of Flowers” by Georges Rouault
Over the years, Robinson worked directly with artists. In 1939, he commissioned a painting of himself, his wife Gladys and his son Eddie by Edouard Vuillard. After filming CONFESSIONS OF A NAZI SPY (’39), he took Gladys on a trip to Mexico where he met with Diego Rivera and bought several pieces. It was there that he met Frida Kahlo, who was not yet known in the states, and purchased four of her paintings for $200 each. According to artsy.net, “Robinson’s purchases were Kahlo’s first major sales, her first to an American, and gave her some financial independence.”
It wasn’t enough for Robinson to keep these pieces to himself. He felt that others should enjoy them too. When he bought a house in Beverly Hills, he petitioned the City Council for permission to build an adjoining gallery on the property. Once complete, he filled it with his prized possessions and opened the gallery to the public by hosting guided tours. Whenever a tour guide failed to show up, Robinson, his wife and even his butler would fill in. Robinson also exhibited his pieces elsewhere including collaborating with friend and fellow art collector Vincent Price on a museum show. In 1953, he loaned out 40 of his paintings for an exhibition at MoMA. The proceeds went to the museum’s New York City School Fund.
Robinson’s collection would diminish drastically when he had to sell 60 paintings as part of a divorce settlement. An auction was planned until Stavros Niarchos, a wealthy Greek shipping magnate, stepped in and bought the whole kit and caboodle privately for $3.5 million. It pained Robinson to lose so many of his darlings all at once. He eventually bought 14 of those pieces back from Niarchos and from other private collectors who purchased them after the original sale. Robinson was able to buy back some of his favorites from Cezanne, Renoir, Seurat, van Gogh and Gaugin. When Robinson remarried in 1958, he and his new bride Jane Robinson (nee Bodenheimer), a fashion designer who went by the name Jane Arden professionally, set out to build the collection back up again. A couple of years after Robinson passed away, Jane published a coffee table book called Edward G. Robinson’s World of Art as a way to pay tribute to Robinson’s lifelong passion.
#Edward G. Robinson#art#impressionism#post impressionism#vincent van gogh#picasso#TCM#Turner Classic Movies#Hollywood#Raquel Stecher
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Thank u to the wonderful @sashacore for tagging me in this! We don't do these things enough anymore on tumblr and frankly we should bring them back x
Honey and lemon or milk and sugar: if this is about tea then im afraid I have to inform u I detest the hot leaf juice because I have the palette of a 5 year old
Musicals or plays: plays. I respect all the musical fans out there deep down, but I worked with a lot of btec drama students during my A-levels and I would commit many a sin to never hear a group rendition of "do you hear the people sing" evrt again thank you very much
Lemonade or unsweetened iced tea: lemonade because I like how it is always a carbonated lemon flavoured drink :)
Strawberries or raspberries: I chug strawberry milk like some kind of morally upstanding vampire chugs on alley rats. So strawberry
Winter or summer: summer but only because it is currently winter. Ask me again in july and I will say winter. I am fickle and stupid
Beaches or forests: trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees trees 🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
Diners or cafés: went to a diner once in Florida. Cafés
Unicorns or dragons: dragons are beautiful little scaly men who I love So Dearly. Unicorns are weirdos who obsess over virginity and purity. Grow up. Dragons obviously
Gemstones or crystals: dunno exactly what the difference is but gemstones I think, they are pretty and good for throwing probably
Hummingbirds or owls: owls. Owls fuck
Fireworks or sparklers: sparklers make me feel like a fucked up and evil witch about to commit arson or maybe necromancy. Fireworks are pretty I guess but a sparkler holds power
Brunch or happy hour: I don't drink and desperately miss going to sit in the pub in a morning to meet friends for brunch :( so brunch
Sweet or sour: sweet because I have a crippling sugar addiction (dentists HATE her)
Rome or Amsterdam: never been to either but im an (aspiring) archaeologist and would sacrifice many a limb to be part of a dig in rome. Can you imagine??? Digging in the colosseum?? Uncovering a mosaic or some shit? Bucket list material
Classic or Modern art: not to be That Bitch but I just cannot appreciate modern art at all. Like im not gonna act like im above it or its not meaningful but like poetry I just dont have a brain that finds merit in more abstract stuff. Meanwhile I love classic art so much its so pretty and detailed. Know fuck all about it though so I am a mere normie looking at joan of arc and wishing she would marry me :(
Sushi or Ramen: ramen, did I mention I have the palette of a baby?? Sushi bad (also I might be allergic to fish lmao)
Sun or moon: I can't even look at the sun, so what's the point of it?? Also im a lesbian so like. Moon all the way babeyyy
Polka dots or stripes: I own too many things with stripes so I am obligated to side with them on this
Macarons or croissants: croissants are the one thing france got right (joan of arc isnt french shes lesbian x)
Glitter or matte: the femme in me says glitter and the goth in me says matte. I will settle with both
Degas or Seurat: had to google these old bitches. Degas I guess but I honestly dont feel much for either style
Aquariums or planetariums: at aquariums I get to see the silly little fish and maybe even touch a stingray. Call me when planetariums let me touch the planets thanks
Road trip or camping trip: I plan to do the journey to my parents' house entirely on foot one day, camping along the way. It's 70 miles away across the whole peak district, so it will be what you might call An Undertaking. Anyway this is to say camping
Colouring books or watercolour: I wish I could say watercolour but I suck at physical art and colouring books are very relaxing
Fairy lights or candles: fairy lights because I would likely cause a fire if I used candles more often and also I am a fairy (derogatory)
tagging
@passionatememes @wellshitmeariver @transssminecraftklungo @diondecarnate @slorpjuice
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Hi! I was tagged by the hilarious and beautiful @majestic-seagull (go follow her or else). I can’t promise I can commit to the same charisma but I will attempt
Honey and lemon or milk and sugar:
Honey and lemon; I love love love honey and lemon juice is nice when am sick
Musicals or plays:
Musicals; plays are nice but adhd dictates at least once every 20 minutes something loud and obnoxious should happen for several minutes. After being around theater kids for all of high school either are awful and inescapable, might as well throw a high kick in (theater kids DNI /j)
Lemonade or unsweetened iced tea:
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I hate lemonade (and Carrie I love you but sprite isn’t lemonade and I’ll fight you) so unsweetened iced tea, the lesser of two evils, will have to take this one
Strawberries or raspberries:
Raspberries; I love strawberries but something about them taste so weird to me I can’t get behind them wholeheartedly, raspberries tho? Timeless
Winter or summer:
I wore a dress today in 40 degree weather (Fahrenheit), and i will wear one tomorrow as it snows. Winter
Beaches or forests:
*Insert brooding-anakin.gif here*; I like the beach in theory because sometimes you see crabs and shells are pretty but forests have such power to them I cannot help but feel so much happier being in them
Diners or cafés:
Real answer? Wherever my friends are; but! Important thing to note: you cannot get a breakfast burrito sweet potato fries and strangely bad but satisfying diner coffee at a cafe (also they are much smaller and I like big space)
Unicorns or dragons:
The knight in me says unicorn, it’s what is to be strived for. But dragons objectively fuck harder, and have way more culturally different ideals and designs, so dragons (side note: jawzahr can hmu anytime 👁)
Gemstones or crystals:
Gemstones are cool, but crystals look like candy and I like to bite them, so crystals; also people who know a lot about gemstones freak me out a little lol, but anyone will see quartz and be like “pretty”
Hummingbirds or owls:
As a frog and crab lover, small and cute things that are vicious are peak aesthetic, so hummingbirds; also my grandma loved hummingbirds, and had little hummingbird things all over wherever she lived
Fireworks or sparklers:
Sparklers; fireworks are 1. Loud 2. Obnoxious 3. People don’t give a shit about anyone else and gladly freak out pets and people with ptsd like some unthinking curs (side note: can we get sparklers that don’t fizzle out after like 10 seconds?? I want to hold the flame stick for 10 minutes at least)
Brunch or happy hour:
I don’t drink anymore, so brunch; besides it’s nicer cause your friends that stay up til forever o’clock can still eat breakfast with you even though you’ve been up since like 8am lol
Sweet or sour:
Sour; I don’t really like consuming either very often to begin with, but esp with gummy candy sour is best
Rome or Amsterdam:
You think I have money to leave the country? Like at all? Like in my lifetime? To give an answer, probably Amsterdam haha weed 420 420 420 420 haha weed (also I just fucking hate Italy) (Italians DNI /j) (god help you if you’re an Italian theater kid)
Classic or Modern art:
Uhhhhhh there’s elements in both that I really like so I will not decide; I think it should be noted I only consume art, I do not know or will ever study its history (art history majors DNI /j)(god help you if you’re an Italian theater kid who majors in art history)
Sushi or Ramen:
I cannot consume anything that has touched the ocean, so ramen; I know there’s the little uzimakis and they are on thin ice
Sun or moon:
This is a question that physically hurts me. I like staring at both for long periods of time, they are my girlfriends. Both
Polka dots or stripes:
I turn 30 in 6 years, find out then
Macarons or croissants:
Croissants are just objectively better; like I enjoy a good macaron every now and then but I could eat a croissant at breakfast lunch dinner as a snack between each meal and then one after I eat dessert and not be sick of them. Also have you ever had a chocolate croissant? Bliss
Glitter or matte:
If this is about makeup, I don’t wear it but glitter; if this is about nails, also glitter
Degas or Seurat:
I flipped a coin on whether or not I wanted to learn something new right now and I will abstain on answering this question
Aquariums or planetariums:
Aquariums are nice but I always have a slight tinge of fear I’ll get murdered in the weird twisty hallways they always have, planetariums have those too but if I get murdered in them at least I can see beetlejuice, so planetariums (side note: I’ve never been to a planetarium before so if any ladies wanna take me to one and kiss me under Jupiter I would like that very much 😳)
Road trip or camping trip:
Every time I’ve gone camping it has thunderstormed, and also someone scares me, so road trip; also there’s something about pushing 100mph with all the windows down screaming Whitney Houston lyrics while your friends just beg to be anywhere else but in the car
Colouring books or watercolour:
I hate arts and crafts, with a burning passion. I can’t fold shit, I can’t color good, glue and tape get stuck everywhere and make me fucking manic. Coloring books are nice to just pretend I’m 5 years old tho, so that will be my answer
Fairy lights or candles:
Candles smell nice but fairy lights can make your backyard party from a 7/10 to an 8/10; there is no clear winner here
Wow I have to tag people now! I will now be throwing a dart (that I’m not responsible for any injuries from) at:
@mecasloth @bottled-chaos @sugaredrefrain @moofahdrome @500daysofbecky @bisexualsnufkin @esspurrr
#food#thanks again for tagging me I like remembering that people can perceive me#also please if I joked about a DNI don’t fucking clown on my post I will just block you and I’ll also probably drink your spinal fluid#/j means joking#this post is long so it will get a#long post#tag#which is like the one and only time you’ll ever get that from me teehee
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