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jjunieworld · 24 days

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── a bed in your shape ⋆ 𓈒 ⊹ 🖼️ ˊ𓂃

read part two here ⇢ a life in your eyes ☆

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluffy, childhood bestfriends to ???, slice of life, blonde!kai, kai is kinda an asshole (i'm sorry)

synopsis: for as long as you could remember, you’ve been in love with your bestfriend kai. the only problem is, he never loved you back. yet, you can’t stop imagining your life with him.

word count: 1.4k┊part two┊masterlist

author's note: happy easter to all those who celebrate! this drabble was heavily inspired by the song strawberry blond by mitski!! all feedback is appreciated and please reblog instead of just liking! yes, i know i use ‘blonde’ instead of ‘blond’… i just like the way the ‘e’ looks better lmaoo.. txt comeback tomorrow and i’m so excited!!! i hope you enjoyed this little drabble!! ♡

you knew what you were doing was going to lead to heartbreak, but at the moment you couldn’t care less. you and kai had planned a picnic in a nice field that the two of you had been visiting since you randomly found it as kids.

at the moment, you were listening to kai talk about this girl that he’s been going on about for months now. the wind was flowing smoothly over your skin from the open window, the spring breeze cooling you off. it was nearing summer now. “we have a date later today that i’m actually really nervous about,” kai spoke, his eyes briefly glancing at yours from the road. “i really really like her, y/n.”

you turned fully from the window to him. despite your heart fluttering at your name on his lips, you gave him a small grin as you said nothing. kai had pulled up to the field, which had saved you from answering anyway.

looking down to your hands in your lap as he parked, you tried to ignore the crushing weight of your heart. of course it wasn’t you he liked—how could you be so naive? this wasn’t some sort of fairytale. you still remember vividly overhearing kai’s conversation at the surprise birthday party you and your mutual friends had threw for him. “don’t be ridiculous,” he had said.

“i could never see them that way.”

you got out the car, looking over to see the top of kai’s blonde hair kiss the sunlight and turn golden. a smile formed on your face. as long as you had kai, that’s all that mattered to you. you didn’t need anything else—not this town, not this road, not this field. not even the sunshine, you’d much rather be clouded in darkness. just him.

grabbing the picnic basket and the blanket, you followed kai out to the field. the field was quite beautiful, the lush green grass was spread across the rolling hills with tiny multicolored flowers dotted about. it looked straight out of a painting that claude monet would’ve painted, and it belonged solely to the two of you.

jogging a little to catch up with kai’s long legs, a giggle slipped from your lips. kai looked at you with a small smile playing on his mouth, “what?” another giggle escaped you as he dodged out of the way of a bee, shaking his arm furiously as the bee tried to land onto his arm after. “they must think you’re a flower,” you replied.

you wouldn’t doubt it, he looked like a sunflower if you’ve ever seen one. blonde hair like honey and rosy cheeks as sweet as pie. kai chuckled, “why are they only going after me then? what about you?” he waved his hand in the air at you to insinuate you’re just as much of a flower as him. you shrugged, “must not be shining as brightly as you are.”

kai tilted his head at you and shook his head. he then wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you both continued your way to your spot in the field. “come on now, don’t say that! you shine just as bright as me, if not more. if anything, we shine brighter together!” you couldn’t disagree with that.

you laid the blanket out onto the grass and kicked your sandals off so you were barefoot, kai doing the same. you sat down onto the blanket and began taking out the wrapped food the two of you had prepared. the wind picked up just as kai went to lie down, flicking the blanket up. instead of laying on top of the blanket, he was now laying fully in the grass. either kai didn’t notice, or he didn’t care about the change.

“the clouds are so beautiful,” he breathed, tucking his arms behind his head. you placed the remaining food onto the blanket and scooted over slightly so you could lay down next to him. pointing, you grinned as you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks, “look, that one looks like a duck!”

kai looked over to you and it made you realize how close the to of you were to each other. “a duck?” he asked incredulously, “that’s clearly a boat!” you returned his gaze with raised eyebrows. “a boat? maybe you should get a new prescription…” you shot back. kai playfully nudged you, causing the both of you to laugh.

you sat up and reached for the muffins you had bought. as you took a bite out of it, savoring the sweet flavor, kai spoke up. you turned to see that he was sitting up now, unwrapping a sandwich as he looked over the field. “i think she’ll really like it here,” he stated before taking a bite from the now unwrapped sandwich in his hand. raising an eyebrow, you lowered the half eaten muffin, “what do you mean? you’re bringing her here?”

“yeah, it’s breathtaking here,” kai shrugged as if what he just stated meant nothing. “she said she wanted something quiet but meaningful and this is absolutely perfect.” you abandoned your muffin in the empty space where it once sat in the container. he had your full attention now.

“but this is our spot,” you spoke slowly. it was as if you were trying to convince yourself that what you just heard come out his mouth somehow got twisted and you were trying to set the record straight. kai just nodded, adding nothing. so you did. “our spot—since we were kids, kai.”

kai nodded once more. “i know, y/n. what’s the issue here? it’s a field. we can find another field if you want to,” he furrowed his eyebrows at you and anger started to rise in you at the confusion in his voice. why didn’t he get it? even if you didn’t have any feelings for him, this was still your spot. your field—just the two of you. not the two of you and some girl.

“it’s not about finding another field. this field is suppose to be sacred—just for the two of us—and you want to bring some girl to our spot?” you practically seethed. desperately, you tried to control your tone, but the anger that had seeped through refused to be hidden. kai sat up straight and you knew you had made a mistake.

“it’s not just ‘some girl,’” kai said defensively. “she’s my girlfriend, and i can take her wherever i want to—even here. it’s just a stupid fucking field. it’s not even that special.” you opened your mouth to retort but all you could get out your mouth was a choked, “g-girlfriend?”

kai rolled his eyes at you, not hearing what you said, “save it, y/n. this is ridiculous.” he stood up from his spot in the grass and grabbed his shoes. kai began walking the path back to his car barefoot and you quickly stood to your feet. “you’re leaving me here? are you fucking serious right now, kai?” you shouted after him. kai continued, clearly ignoring you.

you watched as he got to his car and roughly flung the driver’s side door open. watched as he yanked his shoes back on and watched as he ripped out of the small gravel road and drove furiously away from you.

slumping to your knees, you let out a deep sigh. it looks like you’re walking home. you looked over to the spot in the grass where kai was just moments before. it was as if he didn’t even leave. the grass was still indented in the shape of him. your heart broke and your eyes watered as you reached over to softly touch the flattened grass.

packing up the food and the blanket, you tried your absolute hardest not to break completely. you knew this would all lead to heartbreak, and still—still you continued. foolish. you should’ve known better, maybe then all of this could have been avoided.

breathing out another sigh and looking over the field one last time, you began the walk back home. you were sure this was the last time you’ll ever be in this field again.

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047

part two┊masterlist┊request rules

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metamorphesque · 2 years

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— clair de lune, tathève simonyan

[text ID: i want a “waking up naked under dusty pink silky sheets” scene: / sunlights of hair cascading over the ivory of my back / untethered strands connecting beauty marks / my own constellation of starlight / and as the morning light sashays in / through the cracks / of this chain of blinds / and as this body of mine / welcomes in blues and yellows / there’s a sense of promise / dancing in the air / that’s not going anywhere. / i want a scene of / hands reaching for a door / not for a cover / for in this particular scene / there’s a body that wants to have me in it / and an i who wants to be in this body / i want this symbiotic bliss / this harmonious coexistence / of two opposing forces / reaching for the same door. / [i want debussy playing in the background] / hands reaching for a cup, hands boiling water, hands adding / a spoonful of coffee / hands never burning / hands running through hair / like wild horses / blindly unbounded / like leaves / succumbing to the breath of the wind / but in a good way / because succumbing oneself / doesn’t have to end with a death / not always / at least not when you can hear / clair de lune / softly whispering from the living room. / i want scenes with hands: / hands all over / all the time / hands that love / without a reason and with (one) / because it’s spring / because it’s no longer spring / because they are hands and that’s what they were made to do / because debussy is playing / and what else can one do / but love / unabashedly / with van gogh yellows / and picasso blues / and monet violets / and / i want a scene where / my name is no longer an unintended apology / but a silent promise / like the morning light / dancing in the air / painting its blue hues / yellow in its blues. / i want a scene where / my existence is a reason / and not an afterthought. / i want a scene of me not wanting any of these. / scenes of me naked under dusty pink silky sheets / waiting for the morning light / and knowing that it will come.]

#my writings #poem #poetry #clair de lune #tatheve simonyan #quotes #literature #poets on tumblr #typography #morning light #colourless musings #writing #my poetry #tatev simonyan #romantic academia #light academia #a girl is a haunted house #girlhood #selfhood

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zeziliazink · 11 months

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Fanfic Classics, batch 5 (Drarry, hot edition)

More Serious Literary Work Book Covers, with a heat theme. Endless days, outdoor soirées, warm spring rain, and hot sweat summer! Sun-drenched shoulders and cautious optimism! Or they just feel sort of lazy and flower-bloomy to me.

Grab a cold drink in a smooth glass before reading on the porch.

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose

Beekeeping by khalulu

Wild (orphaned work)

Even the Night by @tackytigerfic

Of Wands and Trees by Omi_Ohmy

Pages of You by by @wolfpants

Timeshare by @astolat

Sweet Creature by bribitribbit (@whineosaur)

This Summer by Saras_Girl

Sun Stroke by @peachpety

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, explanation of what I mean by "classics." Art credits below.

In order:

"Summer Evening on the Porch," by Konstanin Korovin, 1922

"Abstract Painting" by Vanessa Bell, 1914

"Femme dans un jardin" by Frederick Carl Frieseke, 1912

"Accent on rose" by Wassily Kandinsky, 1926

"Landscape at Fontainebleau Forest," by Abbott Handerson Thayer, 1876

"The Artist's Letter Rack," by William Michael Harnett, 1879

"The Swan (No. 16)," by Hilma af Klint, 1914-1915

"Shepherd and Sheep at Vlaici," by Nicolae Darascu, 1912

"Promenade," by August Macke, 1913

"Etretat, Cliff of d`Aval, Sunset," by Claude Monet, 1885

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry fanfic #drarry book cover #my art #moonflowerrose #khalulu #tackytigerfic #omi_ohmy #wolfpants #astolat #bribitribbit #saras_girl #peachpety #saras girl

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astoldbychae · 16 days

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9 Minutes...and 59 Seconds

It's been a minute since I've checked in on my faves. Things are still as busy and chaotic as they were when I last peeked in on them, however, these two are starting to adjust to their new schedules and routines. Alleia is finally settling into her daytime nap schedule as well as sleeping through the night. Melo has been working hard at the Fire Station, collecting promotions as fast as Leia collects her milestones. Meanwhile, Monet has been inspired to create (Baking and Painting are her main artistic outlets these days).

Since Monet rekindled her love of Baking, Melo has been working overtime to get his dad bod under control. He's been in the gym consistently for the past couple of weeks and Monet was supposed to join him on the fitness journey, but she opted to eat one last donut instead. 🤣

Monet: Tomorrow... Melo: You said that yesterday! Monet: For real this time. I promise...

Monet: [laughs] I'm serious Mel! Melo: Why wait 'til tomorrow? I can help you out right now... Monet: Well, you got 10 minutes before Bear wakes up from her nap. Melo:...and you got 9 minutes and 59 seconds until it's time for yours. 😏

EXCUSE ME!? Say what!? 😩 Papa said it was Fresh Cut Friday...and he's ready to make some more babies. 6 more of them to be exact! 🥴 Monet, girl...I apologize in advance for your edges. They bout to be sweated out all Spring/Summer long dealing with him.

#astoldbychae random gameplay #oc: carmelo hollingsworth #oc: monet giordano #it's been weeks since I've loaded my game #there's so many things happening around my lil sim worlds #promotions and engagements and babies and break ups and...#girl help 😩#black simblr #black simmer #ts4gameplay #ts4 photo #ts4 #ts4 simblr

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 6 months

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Stars & Butterflies

Summary: Minghao, an art student, has a secret identity, and you’re the only one who knows.

Content: fluff, friends to lovers, college au

I don’t think there’s any warnings needed for this one!

At the shrill sound of a whistle, the kudo athletes spring into motion. You wince as their helmets collide, imagining the sensation. After a few seconds and another whistle, the team relaxes once more, and gather around their head coach. You can’t hear what he says, but a few moments later the team shouts an unintelligible syllable and breaks apart.

You stand up, gathering your things from your seat on the bleachers. Spotting number 8 making his lone way across the field toward you, you skip down the stairs and wait by the fence. “How do you do that?” you ask Minghao as he pulls his helmet off, shaking his shaggy hair and grinning. Even right after a hard practice, he’s infuriatingly beautiful with his half-up man-bun and his caramel skin that shines with sweat.

“It’s easy,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against his forehead. “You get used to it after years of practice.”

“Well, speaking of practice,” you say, “do I finally get to see your magnum opus today?”

He gives a shy grin. “No,” he admits. “She’s not finished yet.”

You are one of the few people who knows the identity of TikTok famous “MoonMuse”, a talented artist who built an almost Banksy-like cult following through mysterious social media posts of beautifully framed art. He’d been commissioned by celebrities, politicians, millionaires and other personalities for his incredible gift with oil paint, harking back to impressionists like Van Gogh and Monet in his style.

It is, in fact, this tall, muscular young college kudo champion standing before you who is behind these art pieces. You only found out because you, a photography student with a penchant for procrastination, fell asleep in the lab, and when you woke up, you had to exit through the painting studio. He had been there at 2:30 in the morning, working on a piece, and you had instantly recognized his style.

He had gone on to explain to you how only you and one of the art professors knew the face of MoonMuse, and begged you to keep his secret. Something in his eyes — the passion, the desperation maybe — had convinced you to agree. Plus, there was nothing to gain from exposing him. It would just be mean. Then, you had asked him if you could watch.

“I can’t paint to save my life,” you had told him, “so there’s no way I could copy you.”

He gave you a half smile before nodding at the chair next to his. Turning back to the canvas, he began adding strokes to a magnificent flowered garden scene.

You had stayed there almost all night. Watching Minghao work had moved you — it was both soothing to watch and inspiring to witness the care he took with even the smallest details of the painting. Through his eyes, the world looked more colorful, more romantic, more beautiful than it really was. You found yourself wanting to live in the world he saw.

Minghao had insisted on walking you home, because you lived across campus and there was a particularly dark and dangerous street you’d needed to cross to get back to your apartment. The walk back had been full of awestruck questions from you. He seemed flattered by the attention, even remarking that since he never saw his clients in person, he never got to witness their reactions to his work.

“So why do you do it?” You’d asked, thinking about the way artistic work often relies on validation. “If not to make them happy, why paint at all?”

He looked at you, then, and laughed. “I don’t ever paint for anyone else. I paint to keep myself sane.”

This struck you as odd. It lingered with you as you worked on your own art, so much that you found yourself waiting for him every night at the painting studio. Most nights he never showed. Finally, though, he had. And, surprisingly, he seemed genuinely excited that you had met again.

This had been the night you had asked him about why he needed to paint to stay sane. Between strokes of his brush, he told you about how he had a painful tendency to give too much of himself. He rarely got to feel or process his own feelings, especially hard or negative ones. That was where painting came in. “When I paint, I get to make these painful things into something that I can look at. I get to make it beautiful so I can process it.”

He had laughed when he’d caught the expression on your face — in awe was probably the best way to put it. “I’m sorry,” You had stuttered, blushing.

“It’s okay,” he had reassured. “I…actually really enjoy how amazed you get about things like this.”

He bumped you with his shoulder comfortingly. You had looked up at him, and his gentle, open, happy smile had actually reached his eyes for the first time.

He’d walked you back again, and this had become your ritual. At the entrance to your apartment building, he’d stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm before you walked away. He’d asked for your phone number.

He’d texted you right as you’d arrived home — just to say goodnight, but also to tell you he wouldn’t be in the studio again til Friday. You had smiled at the butterfly emoji he’d used to close the text. Appropriate — since there were a flock of them in your stomach.

Today marked your 100th meeting. You’d fallen in love with him somewhere around the 33rd — you had invited him to come with you while you practiced astral photography. He had watched you set up your tripod and camera and asked a couple quiet questions, looking absolutely huggable in his puffy coat and beanie at the top of a rugged mountain. The light finally faded, and Minghao had turned his face toward the sky. “Whoa,” he’d whispered.

The sky was full of tiny pinpricks of light, never visible from the city, but here in this mountainous landscape they were clear. It was why you came here -- and part of why you'd invited him. For a moment, he stared, entirely dumbfounded.

Then he looked at you, and you had been shocked to see his eyes filled with tears.

"I've never seen stars like this before," he said, his voice almost reverent. "I couldn't have even imagined that they existed."

You watched as a tear slid down his cheek and fought back an urge to cup his face in your hands. A telltale burn behind your eyes alerted you that you might join him in crying, and you quickly hid your face behind your camera. But he looked back up at the sky, wearing the most peaceful and contented smile you'd ever seen in your life. It was hard not to stare at him. It was hard not to want to protect him from everything bad in the world. And it turned out that it was absolutely impossible not to be in love with him.

On the way back down the mountain, after the moon had risen and ruined any chance for pictures, he'd asked if he could come watch while you developed the photos. Surprised, you had told him that of course he could. There in the dark room, he told you about his life. He told you about leaving his family in China and coming to school to study art on a kudo scholarship. He told you about the bitter homesickness he felt, about how sometimes he felt so anxious about his choice that he couldn't sleep. He told you how desperately afraid he was to reveal himself to the world -- how much his peace meant to him, and how difficult it would be if he lost it.

At this, you felt your eyebrows raise. He noticed. "What?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone. "Am I getting a bit too moody for you?"

"No, it's not that," you reassured him. "I get feeling anxious about something that important." Then, choosing your words carefully, you said, "It's just that I don't get that last part. I don't know if you can lose peace."

Now he was the one looking at you with raised eyebrows. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," you said, looking at your hands, "peace is internal. It doesn't come from anyone but you." You forced yourself to look into his eyes. "Why aren't you at peace with yourself?" you had asked him, quietly.

"I don't know," he'd replied.

You had walked home that night in complete silence together. You had worried he was mad at you -- so worried that you turned to face him before you went inside. "Minghao, I --"

But he had stopped your apology by bringing you into a big hug. He smelled like clean laundry and the pine woods you'd left only a few hours earlier. "Don't you dare," he said with a laugh in his voice. "I'm just thinking about what you said. I'm not upset." He seemed a little quiet the next few days, but then he got better.

Indeed, today he seemed to smile much easier than he had when you'd first met him. Right now, with the fresh springtime air on his skin as you walked to his apartment next to the painting studio, he almost had a spring in his step. "You're chipper," you say to him, laughing as he grins widely at you.

"I am," he replies, opening the apartment door for you. "I'll shower and then I have something to give you."

You nod, pulling out your laptop and working on some homework while he gets cleaned off. He comes out from the bathroom looking a little flushed, his hair still wet, and you can hardly take your eyes off him. He smiles at you, patting the side of his hair with a towel. "It's at the studio," he says.

He grabs your hand, whirling you around and pulling you down the stairs to the studio. Placing both hands over your eyes, he guides you through the studio until you come to a stop. Then he lifts his hands from your eyes, placing them instead on your shoulders.

You stare at a medium-sized canvas on which he's painted the most stunningly beautiful picture you've ever seen. It's a mountaintop at night, the stars enchantingly close and vibrantly colored in shades of orange and yellow, beaming down at two small shadowy figures who seem to be gazing up at them in awe. The painting is full of priceless wonder and joy. "This...is amazing," you say, trying not to choke up.

"It's that night," he says, watching your face eagerly, almost hungrily, to discern how you're feeling. "You remember?"

"Of course," you say, nodding. You let out a big gust of air. "I honestly can't understand how you plan on topping this. This isn't your magnum opus?"

He looks at the ground shyly. "Honestly, this is a kid's crayon drawing compared to that one."

Your jaw drops. "I'm not trying to doubt your skill," you say, "but I can't imagine anything more beautiful than this." You approach the painting, almost wanting to touch it, but thinking better of it.

"I can," he says quietly behind you. You look over your shoulder to see him beaming at you. "You can touch it," he adds. "It's yours."

"Mine?" you gasp. "Minghao, I can't. I mean, this should be in an art museum."

"Crazy how it's gonna hang in your house, huh?" he says stubbornly. "Seriously, it's yours."

"What if someone asks where I got it from?"

"Tell the truth," he says. "MoonMuse."

"Then they'll know I know who you are."

He shrugs. "That's okay with me."

You grow desperate. "This is seriously too much. I wish I had somewhere beautiful to put this up, but I don't! It deserves to be seen."

"It will be seen by the eyes that matter," he insists. You blush, but then a noise at the door makes you jump.

"Hey," says a girl at the door. "What is that?"

"A painting," Minghao says tersely. "Who are you?"

But she ignores him. "Whoa," she says, pushing past you to stand right in front of the painting. You wince as she touches it with a greasy finger. "I heard MoonMuse goes to school here, but I never thought..."

"How did you hear that?" you ask, your voice sharp.

She pulls out her phone and shows you a video. It's a sneakily filmed video of Minghao painting. You are sitting in the corner watching in the video, and he says something that makes you laugh. You suddenly feel dizzy as the video cuts to a headline about MoonMuse's identity being revealed. The video says that the person filming realized it was Minghao after he saw what he was painting in his room.

The room painting flashes onto the screen, and you cover your mouth with your hands.

It's a poor-quality image of what looks like a masterpiece. The painting looks familiar. The hair, the eyes, even the nose...

It's you.

Given Minghao's impressionistic style, it's more colorful and more beautiful than you, but it's unmistakeable. He perfectly captured you caught in a laugh, with your hair blowing off your shoulder. You look at him, and he's staring at you with his mouth open in horror.

Unable to bear it, you run out of the studio, into the golden sunset, as tears sting your eyes. You haven't made it four steps before you hear him calling your name.

You whirl around to see Minghao following you. "Why did you run away?" he asks you.

"They found out," you say, panicked, as a tear splashes onto your cheek. "I'm so sorry -- I think it's my fault, Minghao."

He actually takes a step forward to brush the tear off your face. "I mean, it was kind of inevitable. I had to come forward at some point, right?" He keeps his hand on your face. "But I need to ask you something."

"What?" you ask, looking up at him.

He puts his other hand on your other cheek, cradling your face in his hands. "What did you think of the painting?" he says, looking into your eyes with an intensity that makes your stomach turn over.

You suddenly remember. "Oh," you say, and blush.

He swallows hard before continuing. "I painted my whole heart into that painting. That picture really didn't do it justice, and it really isn't finished, and I'm not thrilled that you saw it before I really figured out what to say to you."

"It was beautiful," you tell him honestly. "More beautiful than I deserve, honestly."

He tsks in disapproval. "It's you," he insists. “It’s exactly what I see when I see you.”

You are speechless. He laughs a little at your expression before continuing. “That day on the mountain, and after in the dark room, I saw that you had been healing something you didn’t hurt. I don’t remember ever feeling this cared for, and that means a lot to me.” He pulls you in so your noses are almost touching. “Please stay with me.”

You feel yourself trembling at the closeness of him - surprised that although you’ve spent a stupid amount of time daydreaming about having him hold you like this, it still feels so new and crazy and wonderful. You nod. “Okay.”

He smiles - brilliant, blinding. You can no longer resist reaching for him — feeling the warmth of his cheek against your fingers, brushing his soft hair from his temple, just like you’d imagined but better, and Minghao spins you around in giddy joy.

He sets you down, your faces still close together. You both look at each other with huge smiles, and he uses a finger to tilt your chin up. His eyes drop to your lips and then back to your eyes — a question.

You answer without speaking, just smiling into his eyes. He moves in, slowly, giving a brief but impossibly sweet kiss. His arms tighten around your waist as the kiss deepens. You feel a knot of tension in your chest dissolve, and you melt into him, kissing him back with gusto. Throwing your arms around his neck, you let him kiss you into oblivion.

It seems like several days before you finally stop, standing with foreheads together, breathing each other in. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you back,” you whisper in return.

#minghao #seventeen #minghao x reader #minghao comfort #minghao fluff #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #minghao scenarios

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art-damaged · 2 months

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Claude Monet "Le Printemps" (1886) / activists

In Feburary 2024, this work was attacked while on view at the Musee des Beaux-Arts in Dijon, France. Two visitors removed their jackets to reveal t-shirts bearing the name of Riposte Alimentaire, a French environmentalist group focused on sustainable and healthy food sourcing. The protestors then hurled soup and the painting before delivering a short speech. “This spring will be the only one we have left if we don’t react,” one of them said. “What will our future artists paint? What will we dream of if there is no more spring?”

Riposte Alimentaire gained notoriety after staging a similar act involving the Mona Lisa in January.

The two activists were arrested on site; the painting was protected by glass, but will still undergo a close inspection for potential damage.

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accio-victuuri · 2 years

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SDC 3 clowning. Yes. SDC 3. We like digging up things here. Thank you to @rainbowsky for supporting this clownery. This is fake. Don’t take it seriously. I am expanding on this post and I want you to suffer too and think about it lol. I am not confirming anything. This just an observation/study of someone in one of the episodes.

( a representation of my brain when i first saw this )

The episode I’m talking about was aired 8/8/2020 and starts around the 8 minute mark where the captains and Huang Bo + some staff were in a backroom and prepping for the prank. This is a funny episode and if you wanna rewatch it, go ahead. But what you must pay attention to are the people behind them. People who are allegedly staff. I want you to pay attention to one particular individual.

Him. ⬇️

Based on the post this was inspired by, someone else first pointed this out but I think it didn’t get too much traction. We had so much going on during SDC and rumors so I think this got swept under the rug. again. This does not confirm anything. This post is still CPN.

So now here’s why I think it’s Xiao Zhan.

1. As @rainbowsky pointed out, his built checks out with what character he was during that time. Gu Yiye / Ace Troops. He was super thin and with the angle and lighting— with tanned skin. We know GG has tanned skin but he got more tanned during Ace because of how grueling the shoot was and the training. Also this person’s ears. GG’s ears is such a distinct feature of him that I had to take a second glance and find other photos.

2. The whole outfit. It’s from the brand Off-White and it is a style that looks really put together. If you see the crew on SDC, they don’t dress like this. It’s hours upon hours of filming ( 18 hours sometimes ) so there is literally no use to wear something nice. Not that they cannot afford this brand or what. I’m just saying. Off white is one of GG’s favorite brands. Also important to add here that the style this person is described is called Monet Oil painting stitching ( from Virgil Abloh’s Pre-Spring 2019 collection called Impressionism ) I mean— XZ the artists would probably gravitate towards something like that right?

Around this time, GG was on full ninja mode so we have no airport photos or even casual on set ones. I know GG wears really casual things on his off days that looks so comfy ( but are disgustingly expensive ) however he is visiting his boyfriend. His very handsome and talented boyfriend, so why not dress up a little right? and like in THIS ENTIRE EPISODE yibo was just so vibrant. So happy and smiley. I think now we might have a clue as to why.

3. He is not doing anything. Lol. I don’t know what the other girls are looking at or what’s the purpose of what looks like a monitor in front of them — but the alleged Xiao Zhan guy is just there. He is quiet and just hanging out casually. This is the backroom and no one is who is not supposed to be there will be allowed inside. If Bobo is gonna bring GG in, this is an okay space to be in. Even if there is a purpose to those equipment, anyone could sit there and act like they are part of the staff when they are not.

4. Now let’s look at some sus moments. I made GIFs, so just look at “xiAo zHaN” and observe okay?

• This exchange, Bobo looks at that direction and Lay catches him and smiles. 😊 One day, I will talk to Lay and ask him what he knows.

• After one of Bobo’s funny lines to Da Ting, “xiAo zHaN” seems to be reacting/ laughing. Yes it’s funny but this kind of reaction seems to be from someone who is familiar with Yibo. The way he laughs too, with his body is similar to GG.

• When Yibo returned, he looked in the direction of that person. Like he was casually checking how he is.

• HE MADE THIS GESTURE. Look. It’s the same one GG does with his glasses. Yes I know he is not the only human in the world who does this and he may be fixing his mask — but what are the chances that the person we think is GG does the same gesture? Plus the tiny hands.

I don’t have a solid conclusion and right now I’m 50/50 and to be honest, that’s how things always go with CPNs. There are other explanations but our brains are somewhat wired to go the boxiao route. This person is so suspicious with their resemblance to Xiao Zhan. I always say that I don’t think either one of them will act out on a set that isn’t theirs or make a big deal — but this. This sort of clownery is something that I see GG doing. You have to pay attention. There are so many things going on. You have the captains and the funny scenarios that most people will just ignore the background. This is the same guy who likes to put hidden meanings in his drawings. It’s pure genius if this is really him.

So. There’s that. 🤡

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here folks im just clowning like i always do #clowning hours are open #everything is a lie and cpn

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invisiblequeen · 3 months

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Noe Bodi Gameplay: Day 17, Part 1

NEW NEIGHBOR MOVED INTO OASIS SPRINGS

This is Kash Monet (@saruin). She's got the wrong skintone for the first part of her gameplay, but I fix that later. In the meantime, enjoy these color-graded photo attempts to get her tone right.

Anyway, she sought the mirror first and foremost, just to acmnowledge the fact that she looked FLY...she looked GOOD.

Then she wanted to visit the art center in San Myshuno, so she went there and admired all the art pieces I ignore in build/buy.

Then came Jeremiah (@seulvgi).

Y'all.

The pop up window says it all.

IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT Y'ALL.

She gave him a goddamn rose for god's sake.

And then he had to go, but they exchanged numbers with the promise to meet up again soon....which would come sooner if they stopped staring into each other's eyes.

GET A ROOM--

So after he left, Kash was in the mood to paint upstairs. SPecifically, a flirty painting.

It...it was her first time, so...

what on earth was flirty about this, i'll never know.

But hey girl, do you.

The weather got hotter suddenly, so she switched into her hot weather outfit and left the building.

Where she ran into Rhea (@fl0pera).

Who was maybe too busy to fully embrace Kash's random greeting because after a quick introduction she turned around and ran straight into the building.

But that was fine, because Kash had to go to the bathroom anyway.

We'll get back to her later. But speaking of San Myshuno...

NEW NEIGHBOR MOVED INTO THE CITY!

Detective Martin Davies (@starjira) at your service. Here to solve the most mindboggling of crimes and look good while doing it.

The apartment was nothing to write home about, but it would do for this man, who needs nothing but his essentials to get situated. Made sense to me that his first order of business was to read a book. "Keeps the mind sharper than a kitchen knife," he told me, in a silver-screen heartthrob voice.

We'll also get back to him later, because coming up is a HUGE development in the Now Bodi Gameplay...

[previous] - [next]

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims4 #simblr #other people's sims #n0bodygameplays #noe bodi gameplay #simself gameplay #sims 4 gameplay

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crestfallercanyon · 5 months

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Weekly Tag Wednesday Thursday

Thank you @darlingian for creating this week’s game. Thanks for the tag @michellemisfit ! seems like fun.

Which character from any media would you like to have as a father?

Sean Maguire from Good Will Hunting (i.e., Robin Williams's character). Maybe not a very exciting or fun answer, and there's probably a lot of reasons to not pick him, but he just seems to be an extraordinarily good man who wants to help people get to a better place in their own lives, who is trying his hardest to get through the day to day, made some mistakes, loved his wife very much, and can make people who are really going through it still manage to laugh and see the world in a new perspective.

If money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

Dragon is a hell of a good answer @michellemisfit, but if money and time and help were no object but I think I'd be intimidated by that (also I wouldn't know what to feed it!) I think I'd want either a highland cow (because once I got to pet one and it licked me and followed me around and I loved him) or a horse, because I think they're neat.

What is your Chinese takeout order?

General Tso's Chicken, crab rangoon if they have it, steamed spring rolls.

What's your favorite emoji?

👍. it's versatile. I often use it like this: 👍👍.

Would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?

I was going to say library, but honestly? I might pick a greenhouse. A place that's filled with plants that I can go listen to music to even in wintertime and be warm and surrounded by nature? I think I'm going to have to pick the greenhouse.

What childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?

Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, Power Puff Girls, and the old Pokemon tv show with Brock, Misty, and Ash.

What was your tumblr like when you first joined?

I had a shared computer with the entire house as a kid, so I did not have a tumblr then. I only saw it occasionally because I was a nerdfighter and saw fishingboatproceeds (and heard about the drama of that later). It wasn't until a couple years ago that I got a tumblr, so, not all that different to now. My tumblr was a pitiful attempt at being a writing blog, but I got more interested in fandom pursuits instead. Some things have stayed the same, though, like having an obscure icon lol.

What clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?

Dark feminine academia. Black ribbons in the hair, the plaid pleated skirts with the ripped nylons or the smoke color pleated pants, the black mary janes, the cranberry or bourbon or navy colored sweaters with the collared shirt poking out underneath, the neat dark nail polish, the dark lipped makeup. I always think it looks really cool, but a) a ribbon is going to just become a mess in my hair, b) that particular brand of feminine style and color palette rarely looks good on me, and c) seems like a lot of freaking effort that I'm not willing to put in.

If you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?

I know the Legend of Zelda: BOTW map pretty well. The Glade in the Maze Runner is pretty simple so I think I'd know it pretty well, but I do not want to be there lmao.

What is your favorite piece of art?

This is a really hard question, um. I do love art, my brain provides things like Claude Monet or seaside paintings, but I'm going to be honest, I'm always more enchanted by the architecture of things and places -- I love to do "urban hiking". One of the most amazing places I ever got to explore was Radio City Music Hall in New York City. I learned a lot about why they designed the interior areas the way they did, and it was just such an amazing experience.

Do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?

Yes! I have a yellow one with a bunch of stickers of places I've been.

What fanfic trope is a quiet fave?

It's not even quiet for me -- character A is injured and character B patches them up. I love it.

Do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?

I've got two. A burgundy faux-leather-looking bag for when I need to carry a bunch of stuff and look professional, such as files, a water bottle, my laptop, and other personal belongings. Otherwise I have an old thrifted purse made of green corduroy and a button with an engraved hummingbird on it that perfectly fits my laptop and my journal and one book. Attached to it is a small pouch I was given by a friend that I put my headphones case into.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?

I'm a fan of enemies to lovers, lol, so I would probably explore a Mickey/Lip dynamic. Also the amount of sarcasm and actually the frightening capabilities the two would have together would be fascinating.

What is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?

I actually love post-sex scenes, particularly like aftercare scenes. I was not expecting that.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?

Yup. I kind of think Mickey would make a show of it every time Ian feels weird about his own body, he would pick him up and show Ian he's still his lumbering ginger boy.

Who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?

@lingy910y's Mickey and Carl fighting over the bat is GOLD, but I also see Ian quietly grabbing the baseball bat and handing it to Debbie while they're arguing for actual purposes of "I want you to have this and stay safe wherever you are."

I am pretty sure everyone I am familiar with in the fandom has already been tagged, but just in case, I'll add @callivich ! if you've already been tagged my apologies -- and if you haven't been tagged, then by all means, see this as an open tag and go right ahead. <3

#gallavich #weekly tag wednesday #*thursday*#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #lip gallagher #debbie gallagher

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saltysideblog · 5 months

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Letter To Cimitero

Inglourious Basterds (2009) x OC Blurb

Summary: Georgia Lombardi donated several documents to the Basterds Project, inherited from her grandfather in the spring of 1967. The following is a letter written by Italian Basterds member Mariangela Ravenna, dated September 1944, restored and digitized. English translation: Luca Mandato

Warnings: One single Italian swear.

Words: 273

Mariangela belongs to @pvtjxker ❤️

September 14th, 1944

Giverny, France

Dear Cimi,

I am writing to you from the little town Claude Monet used to paint in. I was never a fan of his paintings until I saw the gardens here. I can only imagine what they looked like before the war.

We are in an abandoned hostel, a little ways off the road and I feel like crying. I feel like a fool. You always told me not to fall in love, that it would only bring heartbreak, but I didn't believe you. Now here I am, crying over a boy. I should've listened to you, Cimi.

The very same boy from my previous letters, the one with the big brown eyes and dashing smile. The one who beats the fascists with a bat. The one who flirts with anything that moves.

That's part of the reason why I'm crying. He talks of the girls he used to date in Boston, shows me the pictures they gifted him before he shipped out. Tall, graceful things, they are. Nothing like me. The eyebrowless freak. Nothing like the childish idiot who scribbles on his hands.

But his hands, Cimi, are so much bigger than mine and so gentle when he touches me. He gives me butterflies.

I get dizzy when I'm near him and I know he doesn't feel the same. Even though I've made my peace with it, my heart still breaks.

If you could see me now, weeping in the bathroom like some teenager, you'd probably scold me.

All the best,

Mariangela

PS: I haven't gone soft, don't worry. I killed three fascists stronzi just today alone.

#a gift!#inglourious basterds x oc #others ocs #inglourious basterds #blurb #donny donowitz #donny donowitz x oc

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cedarandstories · 1 year

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Why

James:

Today I stopped by that park downtown that I adore. The spring flowers have just begun to bloom, and I can see the leaves returning to the trees plotted all around the park. The water lilies dot the water right around the river’s edge, almost like it is from a Monet painting.

While I was there, I noticed a young mother trying to wrangle her son. The boy appeared to be around eleven or twelve. The age of defiance, why’s, and no’s. The son was stubborn and stood his ground in the face of his mother hissing harsh punishments to him if he failed to comply. Without context, I am sure some will blame the child for this interaction, wondering why the boy is being so difficult.

Frankly, I never understood why we’d blame a child when an adult clearly modeled and gave them these behaviors. It’s always sad to see how much we blame them for when we forget they had to have learned somewhere.

Seeing things like that always brings me back to when I was younger and having to deal with my own mother and what she had done. It reminds me of how little we see behind that closed door. That place always seemed scarier when she was there.

Once the door closed to the house, to that apartment, to the next apartment, you know you were at her mercy. You knew there was no escaping it. All you could do was grit your teeth and hope for a bit of mercy. You always welcomed when she went to bed early. You knew then for a fleeting few hours, you’d be at peace and safe. You cherished that little fleeting moment. It felt like seconds compared to the eons you spent enduring the pain, the fear, the worry, the anxiety.

The tactics often felt like they ramped up over time. The worst was sleep deprivation. That one was particularly painful James. It’s often hard to put it into words or lay out, but let me try my best.

9 PM - She arrives home and slams the door shut. Your breath shudders, and almost retreats back into you, almost like it's just as scared as you are.

11 PM - Cue the fight. The gaslighting. Calling you selfish. Worthless. Good for nothing. Waste of a son. The works. You stand tall and strong, your meager frame at ten years old tries in vain to withstand it. You look her dead in the eyes, letting everything in one ear and out the other. When she isn’t satisfied with that, she cuts deep. Deeper than a blade right in between your rib cage. No, she goes right through the heart.

1 AM - You’re not exhausted. Sorry, wait, you’re now exhausted. Maybe you got a small break in between screaming and crying that was forced onto you to break you down. Maybe not. Either way, this is usually when the exhaustion and pain and fear encircle you like a squad closing in on a target. When they strike, they hit hard. You finally break down. The first tears well up. You feel the strain and tension in your eyes and face. You struggle and thrash inside, trying to withstand it just a bit longer so you can go take a walk or go into your room to cry. Instead, it happens there. Your eyes well up, and flood right out. You curl up into the couch, sobbing. Unable to breathe, snot creeping down your chin. You’re embarrassed. Scared. Angry. Finally, you feel that cold backhand connect with your cheek.

Thwack!

2 AM - You look away, stunned, face red. You feel more tears come on, but that hard slap reconnects you to reality and reminds you of the current predicament and your pitiful existence. Instead, you harden up and finally face her. You’re still shaking, but manage to keep the gaze steady. Finally, she relents. You may sleep. Finally.

4 AM - You have finally settled into a peaceful slumber. You dream of something calming. Maybe you’re finally away from her. Or at a friend’s house. Those peaceful moments flutter away, replaced by the loud crash of your door swinging open. It’s her again. You feel yourself clutch your pillow tight, holding on for dear life. Not a stuffed animal, because you were too old for them at ten. The argument continues. You knew it was coming. You hoped and prayed it wouldn’t. You finally fooled yourself into thinking it wouldn’t happen today. But it did. Like always.

I used to wonder why people could do this. I’d wonder why people could stoop this low, especially for someone they are supposed to love. But love is a fickle word. Maybe they love you. Maybe they don’t. They sure do love the idea of you they have carved out for you. When you fail to meet it, then you aren’t loved. I am sure it’s simple in their minds. Maybe it isn’t.

I hope that boy eventually gets away from that situation I saw at the park. He’ll be amazed at how the world opens up with people love you, not the idea of you.

Yours,

Daniel

#writeblr #writing #fiction writing #fiction #short fiction #short story

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changsbin · 1 year

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0325 ; to love someone is to exist with them

tw: mentions of depression and su*cid*l thoughts (a small blurb about skz's 5th anniversary bc they have been and still are one of the biggest parts of my life)

six years ago, i was in the eighth grade and getting ready to enter my freshman year of high school. although excited, i still had this lingering feeling—like i was lost—i had friends, i had family, i had activities that i enjoyed, but it was never enough. i would go home, and the smile would melt from my face like candle wax. i would go home, nothing made me feel real—nothing made me feel full. so, i consumed tons of debris and molded myself into whoever i thought i should be in the hopes that i would be able to fill the emptiness in my chest.

it didn’t work. nothing did. every day was the same as the last; i ate the same food, wore the same clothes, listened to the same music, went to the same classes. hope was beginning to feel more and more like a stranger to me. good days were becoming more and more scarce. i started thinking: “maybe everything would be easier if i didn’t exist; maybe everything would weigh less on my soul if i wasn’t here anymore.” i didn’t want to die, but i didn’t want to live—if that makes any sense.

in october of 2017, i started watching the survival show, and it was my sanctuary, my escape; i got to watch these boys follow their dreams while seeing them grow and change. i was taken by their talent and their passion and their love for one another. to me—a young girl who gave up on looking for light in the dark long ago—they shined brighter than the sun. to me—a person teetering on the edge—they became my world, my galaxy, my universe.

and, in 2018, all of their hard work and dedication came to fruition. with tears in my eyes, i watched as they embraced and adored one another with whole hearts and open arms. it’s been far too long to remember the weather, but i know march 25th, 2018 was a warm day.

and, since then, i think i’ve grown warmer as well. now, my depression has not gone away, and those aforementioned thoughts still plague me to this day. but, they’ve become easier to manage. stray kids has helped me realize what it means to search for hope and what to do when i find it. stray kids has taught me to hold tightly onto those i love and to be gracious to those i don’t. stray kids has reminded me that it’s okay to not feel okay; they’ve reminded me that vulnerability and weakness and fear are natural. stray kids have placed their hands over my heart, and let me know that existence is fleeting, and that i should not squander it; they have taught me that embracing the fragility of the human spirit is the only way one can grow stronger.

chan, minho, changbin, hyunjin, jisung, felix, seungmin, and jeongin—they have all given me a second chance.

i see chan in the evergreen trees of my hometown; strong and resilient, but not being afraid to drop leaves and plant seeds because that is how the future is made. i feel minho as the warmth of my cat’s body seeps through the fabric of my clothes; gentle, loving, and tender while displaying trust and adoration in a quiet way. i hear changbin in the thunder of an impending storm; its rumbling evokes a sense of comfort in me, and i know only good things will remain after the rain. i see hyunjin in claude monet paintings; soft greens, muted yellows, and calming shades of lavender coming together to ease the ache of my soul. i hear jisung in the laughter of my friends; a sound that is unique to each person, a sound that reminds me of happier times that are still to come. i smell felix in the homemade bread that my dad and i make together; like an all-encompassing hug, the aroma is safe and delicate and makes me feel loved. i hear seungmin in the song of the morning doves outside my house; a beautiful symphony that tells of family and connection and the difference between being alive and truly living. and, jeongin—i see him every time a spring flower starts to bloom; courageous and filled with nervous excitement, they make the decision to begin again in spite of the tribulations they may have to endure.

simply put, they are my everything.

and, in this moment—5 years after dreams became reality—i realize that hope and i are growing closer once again. it seems a bit silly, doesn't it? the fact that eight people have had this big of an impact on my life? the fact that eight people take up so much room in my heart? but, i can't bring myself to care—not when i'm gazing up at my stars, not when i know that they will always light my way, not when i know that our story has yet to end.

the darkness is still here, though. it stalks me when the weight of the world becomes too much for me to bear; when it strikes, it digs its fangs into my skin and turns the blood in my body ice cold. and, unfortunately, i don't think the sting will ever go away. but, it doesn't scare me. it doesn't control me. it doesn't define me.

not anymore.

to skz (jic ;]): i would not be the person i am today if i didn't have stray kids. i am forever grateful for the music you make, the stories you tell, the love that you give. thank you for saving me. to love someone is to exist with them, and i plan to stay by your side for a very long time.

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