#Waterhouse used for reference!

[theftshrubbery]

An Offering

[florilegia-or-what-you-will]

There are friends on earth,

lovers living who lie in their beds,

while I walk alone in the first light of dawn

under the oak tree and through this earth-cave,

where I must sit the summer-long day;

there I can weep for all my exiles

[scuderiahalf]

always you — mick schumacher

pairing. mick schumacher x verstappen!merc racing engineer!fem!reader

summary. mick had always been inexplicably tied to you, no matter what distance grew between you. even if it took over two decades for you to figure it out, it had always been mick. it would always be mick. 5.4k, 18+

playlist. "invisble string" by taylor swift, "the perfect pair" by beabadoobee, "moves" by suki waterhouse, "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys, "let the light in feat. father john misty" by lana del ray

warnings. pining, mick is kind of very much pitiful in this alright, smut, l-bombs, sort of sub!mick, google translated german, almost choking, oral (fem and male receiving), penetrative sex

masterlist.

. . .

"I'm telling you what the data says, and it says you're wrong, so follow the damn line, George."

Mick fought a smile as you told George off over the radio. Toto cast you a look that you didn't even seem to see, let alone acknowledge. The team principal didn't look all that surprised when you didn't take your eyes off the screens of data you were getting input from.

In the next lap, George's lap time dropped nearly a second thanks to your suggestion. George didn't offer an apology for doubting you and you didn't expect one; you only expected him to be consistent in how he attacked turns seven and eight, to continue following your instructions.

Mick had observed your and George's relationship over the last few seasons you had been working with him. As George's racing engineer, you had quite a close working relationship with the Brit.

Off track, you were good if unlikely friends. Where George was all pretense and propriety and politeness, you were nothing but brutally honest, succinct, and to the point. But you were close in age and often seen together chatting and laughing.

On track, you were pretty much the same, if not even more blunt, if that was possible. George fed off your no-nonsense attitude, communicating clearly and without any of the fluff normally gracing his conversational skills.

Mick admired how well you worked with George. He admired just about everything you did. You could sit there doing absolutely nothing and F1TV would catch Mick staring at you like a lovesick fool again.

He still doesn't know how he hadn't seen the cameraman filming him as he watched you from across the garage two weekends ago. People kept referring to him as "Heart Eyes" Schumacher and he really could not blame them after seeing the clip of himself watching you.

You hadn't said anything to him about it. In fact, you hadn't said anything to him all season. Or during pre-season. Or in the two years prior when he was driving for Haas. Or in the thirteen years it had been since your dads had their falling out.

Mick would have liked to talk to you. He would have liked to talk about nothing or everything like you used to. He would have listened to you ramble about statistics and analytics and anything you wanted, even if he didn't understand a word of it.

But you had looked at him maybe three times since he signed on as Mercedes reserve driver. You either didn't remember or—more likely, knowing your keen mind—you didn't care about your shared history.

Even if it was in your childhood and so much had changed since then, Mick still remembered. He remembered playdates and shared family vacations and spending every second together that you could before your dad dragged you away.

He remembered noticing how different your dad treated you than his dad treated him. He remembered sleeping over once and hearing your dad screaming at you until you ran to your bedroom in tears. He remembered telling his dad about it all.

He remembered how he was the one to ruin everything.

You didn't seem to remember any of it—or, at least, you never seemed to reminisce on it. Never got caught up staring at him wondering how things could have been different. Never got distracted by unexplainable yet unavoidable and likely unrequited feelings for someone that was once your friend over a decade ago.

When he was with Haas, your lack of interaction could be excused; you were on different teams. Since he had signed with Mercedes, it felt like you had purposefully been ignoring him for months.

He could approach you. He could simply walk up to you at any point when you weren't fully absorbed by readout screens and analytic diagnoses and strike up a conversation.

He didn't want to push his luck. He didn’t fully understand why you wouldn’t talk to him but he also didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

If being near you meant never truly being close to you again, Mick could live with that. Ultimately, you owed him nothing, so he could watch from afar and adore you silently. He could be content with that.

After all, it was his fault that everything fell apart in the first place.

.

"Hey, heart eyes! Come here!"

Mick hesitated before making his way to where Lewis was in the VIP section of this Friday night's club of choice.

"Hi?"

"I can't help but notice that you're pathetically in love with your race engineer."

"She's George's engineer—"

"That’s beside the point. Anyway, I think your girl could use some saving."

"She's not my girl."

Lewis hadn't said your name. Mick didn't need him to.

Mick leaned on the balcony railing beside Lewis, looking down over the crowd on the main floor of the club. He found you embarrassingly fast. You were wearing a black shirt, pink shorts, and sandals.

He had seen you come in earlier with your brother and thought you were probably the prettiest girl there that night. If you were put in a room with the world's top models, Mick would still think the same.

On the floor below, your personal space was being invaded by a dark-haired man in glasses. You looked incredibly uncomfortable, glancing around for anyone you knew who you could latch onto and get away from the man who was talking at you incessantly.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision on Mick’s part. One second, he was watching you from the VIP balcony and the next, he was pushing his way through the dance floor to get to you.

The unnamed glasses man put a hand on your back, touching the sliver of exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. You visibly tensed up.

Before he could think better of it, Mick called your name and pretended to stumble into you and the man.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you.” He played up being drunk as he stuck himself between you and Glasses. “Hey, mate, how’s it going? Who are you?”

“I’m Nolan. And we were having a conversation.”

Mick had to hand it to ‘Nolan,’ he was persistent. “My bad, I guess. Y/N, your brother’s looking for you. Come on.”

He walked off and you followed after him. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He was running by the seat of his pants and hoping he didn’t end up making things worse.

Last time he had thought he was helping you, he didn't speak to you for thirteen years.

“My brother left an hour ago.”

“I know.”

Mick kept walking towards the stairs up to VIP.

You kept following.

Maybe this time, things would be different.

.

When Mick was 11, he mentioned to his mom that your dad yelled at you and made you cry. That same day, his dad sat him down and asked him to tell him everything he knew about how Jos Verstappen treated his children.

He had told him everything he knew because he didn’t know why he shouldn’t. If his dad wanted to know, it had to be important. Maybe he would be helping you by telling his dad.

A week later, Mick was playing with you in the backyard when your dad started yelling. Except that time, he wasn’t yelling at you or his most frequent target of your older brother Max, he was yelling at Mick’s dad.

That day had ended with your father dragging you away from Mick. Mick remembers thinking he had grabbed you so roughly; didn’t it hurt to be seized by your arm and jerked around like that?

Jos didn’t care. He just yelled at Mick’s dad to stay away if he had such an issue with how he raised his children. So, the Schumachers stayed away. The last memory Mick had of you was with tears streaming down your face, begging your dad not to make Mick leave.

A little less than ten years later, Mick was a Formula One reserve driver. That same year, you had graduated early from university and earned a spot as a Williams performance engineer. Then, you went to Mercedes in 2021 and took over as George’s racing engineer at only twenty two years of age while Mick was racing with Haas.

"I thought you hated me."

You looked up at him, mouth full. "What? Why would I hate you?"

"For telling my dad about everything. For tearing us apart."

You swallowed your mouthful of sandwich, sat across from him in Mercedes hospitality on your lunch break.

After that night in the club, you and Mick rekindled your old friendship. You looked at him, now. You smiled at him and talked to him and sought him out just to sit and talk during your break.

Getting a second chance to be your friend was more than Mick ever thought he would have.

"Mick, that wasn't your fault. My dad... it's complicated. But our dads' falling out wasn't your fault. I never blamed you for it. You know that, right?"

No, he had not known that. He had spent the last thirteen years blaming himself for losing you. He had assumed you would blame him, too, for ending your friendship because he had spent so long as a self proclaimed scapegoat.

"Mick."

"I know that now."

"Mick!"

"I— Okay, I know it's stupid but I have always blamed myself for the whole situation. Then, when we both were getting into F1, you never reached out."

"You never reached out, either!"

"I know that but I figured you wanted nothing to do with me, so I never tried to talk to you."

"You're so daft sometimes, Schumacher."

Mick took your empty insult without argument.

After spending every free second he had with you over the last several weeks, he realized how dumb he had been. He never thought of himself as the melodramatic type but he had really been going through it when he thought you were avoiding him.

"I've never been the smartest when it comes to you."

You just scoffed at him and ate more of your sandwich.

The next day, it was a double podium for Mercedes with Lewis in P2 and George in third. With your brother on the top step of the podium, you were elated, grin broad and voice loud over the radio as you congratulated George for a race well done.

Then, you looked around the garage. Mick didn't know why until your eyes found him along the back wall. You were looking for him. You smiled (at him) and he was smiling back before he even had to think about it.

Being with you had always been easy. As kids, you never argued. You shared toys and always managed to find some weird, convoluted way to mash what you both wanted to do together.

Now that you had gotten over whatever misunderstandings that kept you apart for the last few years, it was easy again. There was never anything you two couldn't talk about. There was never awkward silence. There was never any want to not be near each other.

Mick spent all night celebrating Mercedes' 2-3 finish with you. It was easy to spend hours by your side, to stand too close, to look at you for too long. Once he had a few drinks, it was all too easy to speak his mind around you, lips loose and heart full.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Micky."

"I mean I really missed you. All the time. I would think about you sometimes and miss what we used to have."

Your eyes were soft and focused only on him. He was barely tipsy from the alcohol but he was definitely drunk on you.

"Then, we were both in F1. But it was the pandemic and I was still worried you didn't want to see me. Then, when I was with Haas, I was so scared to approach you."

"Did I do something to make you think I hated you?"

"No, I was just in my head. And those months preparing for the season with Mercedes were the worst. You were so close but I was still too scared to talk to you."

"I wanted to talk to you, too," you admitted. "I thought about doing it sometimes but... I don't know. We hadn't spoken in so long and I was always so busy. I guess I was scared, too."

"I wish we had spoken sooner. We could have had this so much sooner."

"Had what sooner?"

"I don't know." That was a lie. "This. Us."

In all honesty, Mick didn't know what you two were. To anyone who asked, he would say old friends. But you were much more than that.

When he was ten, Mick kissed you for the first time. He had been in love with you since before he even understood what it meant. There was more heartbreak in the severing of your friendship than your families knew, more than either of you had known at that point.

And now, you were together again. Friends again. Except, friends don't sit knee to knee for hours at a time, wholly absorbed in nothing but each other in a raucous club with post-race celebrations going on all around them.

Friends don't let friends ghost their fingertips over the exposed skin of their shoulders, rest their hands on each other's thighs, play with the ends of their hair or the hem of their clothes.

"I missed us." Mick wondered if you knew what he meant by that.

You smiled (at him, again). "Me, too."

You were so close to him. Any sort of respectable distance was out the window. Your thighs were pressed together. You were sat sideways, head resting in your hand as you leaned an arm on the back of the couch.

He could sit up a little straighter and that was all it would take to reach your lips. He was seriously debating doing it.

Then, your brother smacked the back of your head as he was walking past, said something to you in Dutch that had you cursing at him in the same language.

"Hey, Mick," Max tossed at him with an uncomfortably knowing grin.

"Hey, Max."

Suddenly faced with the older brother of the woman he was just been fantasizing about kissing in the middle of a public space, Mick felt his face grow hot. He couldn't quite make eye contact with the eldest Verstappen child.

"Go away, Max," you told your brother with a glare.

Kelly took pity on you, dragging her boyfriend away.

"What did he say?" Mick asked you.

"'Get a room.'"

Mick laughed nervously, shifted away from you slightly. "Sorry, I—"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Being with you had always been easy. It was maybe the easiest thing Mick had ever done to nod his head yes and let you drag him out of that club.

You sat too close in the cab ride back to the hotel. He stood too close in the elevator up to his hotel room. You held his arm as he fumbled with the keycard to get the door open.

You pushed at his chest to get him to sit on the edge of the bed. He went down willingly, kept his eyes on you the entire time. You stood between his legs, pushed his hair back, let him lean into your touch.

"Is this okay?" you asked.

Were you seriously asking that? He had turned into putty in your hands from just a few touches. You hadn't even kissed him yet.

"Mick," you insisted at his silence.

"Yes. It's okay. It is so okay. Don't stop. Please."

He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed by just how easily you had reduced him to begging.

Above him, you smiled before leaning down to press your lips to his. His neck was craned back; you had a hand on the back of his head and one on his shoulder to keep him in place. He let you dictate the pace, let you kiss him however you wanted.

It was slow at first, just your lips on his. You set the tempo low, moved your mouth at a torturous pace. You sucked his bottom lips between both of yours. When your tongue finally poked out, he let his jaw slacken, let you lick into his mouth without a need to fight against it.

You slid your tongue against his. The exchange of saliva was erotic and messy and left Mick panting against you. He gripped the backs of your thighs, adjusted his hips, tangled his fingers in the hem of your dress.

Mick slipped into German as he got lost in want. "Liebe, bitte. Bitte, ich brauche dich." [Baby, please. Please, I need you.]

And you—brilliant, keen, genius you—knew what he was saying. When did you learn German? Did you remember enough of it from all the time you had spent with his family as a child? He had no clue.

"Sei geduldig. We will get there." [Be patient.]

"I have been patient for years. Please, Y/N."

You kissed him again to shut him up, faster, harder, sloppier this time. Your hand slid over the column of his throat, just resting there as nothing but a reminder. He keened into your mouth, the vibration getting caught by your hand.

"I love you," he gasped, out of breath.

You drew back.

Mick's heart stopped.

"You love me?"

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing against your hand. "Yes. I have since we were kids. I don't— I don't want this if this is all it will be. I want everything with you. I want you to love me, too."

Somehow, it was still easy for him to lay all his cards on the table, to let you see everything and wait for your verdict. He was terrified, yes, but he trusted you implicitly.

He loved you and only you—he had only ever loved you this desperately and wholly, thirteen years apart be damned.

"I'm in love with you," he said.

You seemed breathless and speechless all at once.

He knows he said too much. It was definitely overwhelming to have all of that said to you with no warning but once he started, he couldn't stop. He had kept it all to himself for so long, watching from afar, never able to get close to you.

Now, here you were. He only hoped he had not read into things that were not there. He looked up at you, ice blue eyes wide and hopeful, patiently awaiting your response.

"I love you, too," you said on an exhale. "I'm in love with you, too. I thought I was crazy for it but I think I've always loved you."

Mick was not entirely convinced that this all wasn't some sick wet dream he would wake up from in the morning. He didn't care. He couldn't care, not when you slid your hand up to his jaw, held his face so gently, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"It's always been you, Mick."

He couldn't stop himself anymore. He pulled you close, guided your legs to either side of his hips, held your head and kissed you.

Dominance was shared this time as you kissed each other. You sighed into his mouth, a contented and wanting sound. You rested your arms on his shoulders as your tongues danced. His hands pushed up higher under the skirt of your dress, squeezing the soft skin of your upper thighs.

"Okay?" was the simple question he asked before taking things any further.

"Please."

Supporting your weight, Mick lifted you out of his lap and laid you out on your back. Hovering over you, he slid a hand up your dress to your hip. He caught the waistband of your underwear, glanced up at you to make sure.

You nodded.

He got both hands under your dress to pull your underwear off. He pushed your legs apart and you let them fall open, exposing yourself to him and he nearly moaned at the sight alone.

You were laid open and not quite bare with your dress still on but your pretty pink folds were in clear view. He had never expected to have you in any way, let alone spread open and ready to be ravished, but to say he hadn't imagine it two hundred times over would be a lie.

He moved down your body to kiss your left thigh, first closer to your knee then moving up so the soft, supple skin of your inner thigh. He let his breath fan over your pussy, felt the way you twitched at the sensation. Then, he kissed back down your right leg, trailing kisses down to your knee.

"Mick," you urged.

He bit back the repetition of your words about patience from earlier, instead deciding to be nice and lift your knees up over his shoulders, slide his arms under your legs to warp around and hold them in place, then settle in between your thighs like he had nowhere to be for quite some time.

Your folds were glistening in anticipation by the time his lips met them. He kissed over your aching core one, two, three painfully slow times before finally letting his tongue slot against your clit. His lips moved in tandem with his tongue, sucking and licking at the little bundle of nerves until you threw your head back and choked out a throaty moan.

"Mick—please."

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Mick dropped his head to slide his tongue down between your folds, to press at your entrance over and over, lapping at your pussy in a way that could not care about saliva and slick dripping off his chin.

His nose nudged at your clit. Every breath in was nothing but the scent of you ingraining itself in his brain in a way he will never forget. He would never want to forget a single thing about you in that moment.

Not your scent or the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Not the feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair, not pushing or guiding just holding onto him like you just wanted to have your hands on him in any way you could. Not the way you breathed his name halfway between a moan and a cry, or how you arched your back as you were overwhelmed with bliss.

You were coming apart on his tongue and lips and nothing else. If he could save the taste of you and get high on it every night he would. If he could bottle the feeling of you trying not to squirm under the pleasure that he was bringing you, he would drink himself dumb a thousand times over.

"Mick—!"

He hummed in perfect contentment as you cried his name in warning. Your muscles tensed, legs tried to close around his head as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. He just dug in more, ate you out more fervently, slipped his tongue inside of you until you were gasping from the feeling of it.

When he made you come the first time, it was with a cry of his name and panting moans as you bucked your hips up against his face. He worked you through it, kissing and licking at your clit until you were pushing at his head to pull him off.

When he lifted his face from between your thighs, his face was wet, covered in you and he loved it. You laughed breathlessly as you saw him, still shaking slightly from your orgasm.

"Jeez, Mick. When did you learn to go down on a girl like that?"

He was a little lightheaded and a lot pussy drunk, but he still knew better than to mention any girl he'd been with before. "I want you to be the only girl I ever go down on again."

"Good answer," you said, and pulled him up to kiss you as a reward.

You could probably taste yourself on his lips but didn't seem to care as you kissed him hungrily. You tugged at his shirt, so he pulled it over his head. You ran your hands over his torso unabashedly, feeling his stomach and shoulders, bringing goosebumps to his skin as you ran your fingernails down his chest.

Despite having you crumbling apart under his mouth not three minutes ago, when you climbed into his lap and started kissing his neck, Mick felt like he was short circuiting.

Your dress had fallen back over your hips to hide it but he knew you were uncovered underneath the silky fabric. If his pants were off, he could be inside of you right now.

He slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders as you gripped his jaw and tilted his head to the side to kiss at his neck some more. He went pliantly, moaned softly at the feel of your teeth tugging at the sensitive skin where his neck met his clavicle.

He reached around to your back to unzip your dress. When you slid your arms out of the straps and he pulled the top of the dress down, he was finally able to get his hands on your boobs, taking big handfuls of each.

You were still kissing and licking his neck, teasing your teeth against his skin every so often. When he ran his thumbs over your nipples until they were hard under his fingers, your breaths grew shaky. He carefully let his nails drag over the firm peaks, pinched them between his thumbs and forefingers and tugged until you were arching into him.

"So handsy," you commented breathlessly.

"I want to touch every inch of you until you can recognize me by feel alone."

Mick dropped his head between your breasts, kissed the skin there and the side of your boob before you pushed him back. He whined as you deprived him of becoming acquainted with another part of yourself he already knew he would never get enough of.

Then, you stood and stepped out of your dress to leave yourself bare. He couldn't find a reason to complain.

He was prepared to slide to the floor at your feet. Then, you beckoned him toward you.

You had him sit at the edge of the bed again. You dropped to your knees. You popped the button of his pants. You pulled his boxers down just enough, and then his cock was stood at full attention just in front of your face.

He cursed under his breath. You heard it and smirked before licking up the underside of his cock. You wrapped a warm hand around him, stroked him a few times while kitten licking at his tip.

"Y/N. Liebe, please. Y/N, please."

You were not as easily convinced to dive in and give Mick what he wanted as he was with you. You didn't change what you were doing, just continued to let the tip of your tongue dance along the top of his cock while your hand moved on him slowly.

You finally closed your lips over the head of his dick and Mick could have come from that and nothing more. You popped him out of your mouth with an audible noise. Mick groaned; you would be the death of him and he wouldn't even fight against it.

You shot him a Cheshire grin. The sight was lewd and unbelievably hot: you, with a hand around his cock and a big smile on your face like you enjoyed nothing more than sucking him off. Mick was going to combust if he wasn't inside of you in the next two minutes.

"Y/N—"

He tried to tell you as much but your mouth was on him again and he couldn't get the words out. You swirled your tongue around his head, then your jaw opened and and you took as much of him in your mouth as you could. It was warm and wet.

Your tongue flexed against the underside of his dick when it hit the back of your throat. He could feel himself press into your soft pallet until you had to come up for air with a slight gag.

He couldn't bring himself to make you stop when you went back in for more. His breaths were short and labored, legs tense under your free hand as he mentally and physically had to hold himself back from coming down your throat.

He could imagine how you would gag around him when he did, pulling up to take his load just behind your lips instead. You might open your mouth after he had finished, show him your handiwork as it was pooled on your tongue before swallowing it all.

"Y/N, you have to stop. I'm going to come."

You took him out of your mouth to press a sloppy kiss to his cock. You pouted up at him as you let his length rest against your face. He could feel your eyelashes against it when you blinked.

"You don't want me to make you come?"

"I don't want to be spent yet. Come lay down for me?"

You let him pull you off the floor, kissed him as you crawled up the bed and laid yourself out on your back. He managed to kick his pants and boxers off while searching his suitcase for a condom then get back over to you without tripping over his own feet.

You giggled at his eagerness. Your hands ran over his chest as he ripped the packet open and slid the condom on. Your legs were already parted for him as he positioned himself.

He glanced up at you, not nervous but checking in. Your gaze was set on where your two bodies were about to fit together, hungry and expectant. Who was Mick to deprive you of what you wanted?

Entering you was as easy as anything with you was. You were still soaked from Mick's saliva and your own fluids. Your mouth fell open and your walls fluttered around him. A moan croaked past your lips as you gripped his arms.

"Holy shit, Mick."

He had to be sure, so he asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm in fucking ecstasy. Oh my god, baby."

Mick started moving his hips, long, slow strokes in and out as you keened beneath him, panting from almost nothing at all. He could live off the noises you made for him. He snapped his hips against yours, was rewarded with a gasp and startled little mewl and your fingernails digging into his biceps.

"Mick, please."

He continued the same slow pace. In and out, almost languid, near torture but so worth the desperate way you pulled at his shoulders and hips, physically trying to get him to speed up, to give you more.

"Mick. Go faster."

"I love you." Anything for you.

He made a smooth transition from rolling his hips against yours to making them a piston, pace and weight faster and harder. He bore down on you heavier. You cried out, dragging your nails down his back to only spur him on.

He sat back, pressed down on you with his hands on the backs of your knees to fold you in half. You couldn't easily get away from him when he had you pinned down like this, thighs spread wide and pussy bared to be split open on his cock. You tipped your head back and moaned loudly.

"You've got to try and be quiet, baby," he told you; you were still in a hotel.

"You're making it really difficult."

Mick grinned but eased off just a bit. "Sorry—"

"Don't you fucking dare. Fuck me, Schumacher. Fuck me hard."

So, he did.

.

You were sticky, shaking, and more than satisfied when Mick was through with you. Three more orgasms, four different positions, and five I love you's later, you had passed out against Mick's chest after he had carefully wiped you clean.

The next morning, you and Mick came down for breakfast together. Max was already there; you usually ate breakfast with your brother if you were staying in the same hotel because there wasn't much time to see him elsewhere on race weekends.

When he clocked the way you and Mick were so casually close together, the little looks you kept sneaking, he smacked a hand on the table and pointed an accusatory finger in your face.

"I knew it!"

Mick went red.

You just rolled your eyes. "Shut up, Max."

. . .

a/n. this was partially inspired by this one max fic i read a while ago that i couldn't find again. it's schumacher!reader x max and reader is the one to tell michael about how jos treats max then reader and max reconnect years later. i think it was inspired by "seven" by taylor swift.

if anyone can find it/the author lmk and i'll give credit! hope you enjoyed <3

edit: credit is due to @mastermind123 (who i cannot tag for some reason) and their story, seven. go read it; it’s so cute!!

[eowynstwin]

Generally, I feel like a lot of AI discussion gets down into weeds that obfuscate the foundation of the issue—data storage, environmental impact, copyright law. I couldn’t hypothesize why other than to (perhaps snobbishly) imagine that very few people on either “side” of the issue have a formal art education, because quite frankly two questions matter the most to me, as a trained artist:

1) Is the thing the computer spat out actually, ontologically a piece of art?

2) If yes, who is the actual artist that can claim provenance of that work?

Something you learn toward the end of your BFA, after your fundamental design courses and studio classes, when you’re sitting around with your fellow students in discussion with your professor, is that a creative work’s value as an artistic piece relies on the artist’s intent. A piece of art is a piece of art because the artist who made it intended for it to be a piece of art.

Of course there is PLENTY of philosophical debate to be had regarding a piece’s artistic value, given that once it is determined to be a piece of art it is then subject to critique, but that debate has been ongoing since Marcel Duchamp plopped a urinal onto a plinth and called it art all the way back in 1917.

That debate will not stop until the heat death of the sun.

(Side note: a key talking point for the alt/far-right, when it comes to art, is to claim that the Modernism and its corollary movements are not true art in comparison to the breadth of art history that ended roughly with late Victorian academic practice. Do not give their arguments credence by repeating them.)

Intent is what matters. That’s generally been the foundation of artistic critique for approaching a century. Not necessarily a stable foundation, but whatever.

An analogy:

A professor spends a semester instructing his students how to draw or paint in some classical “style”—let’s say, just for giggles, the Pre-Raphaelite.

He demonstrates specific techniques with specific media and provides specific reference material to his students so they can practice what he has taught them. Throughout the semester he corrects his students’ mistakes and helps them to develop strategies they can use to reproduce the hallmark traits of the Pre-Raphaelite movement.

At the end of the semester, all of his students can reliably create work that looks if not identical to work by artists such as Millais, Rossetti, or Waterhouse, then certainly remarkably similar to them.

Who is the artist of this similar work?

The obvious answer, the CORRECT answer, is his students. Just because the professor trained them to paint in this style does not mean their work becomes his, or, for that matter, any of the artists I mentioned.

His students put brush to canvas and moved pigment around to make a picture. The work is their provenance. They intended to create art that looked Pre-Raphaelite, and then they made it.

I think the application of this analogy to the issue of AI art is obvious, but for clear argument’s sake:

AI is not sentient. AI is not sapient. AI is an extremely well-programmed randomizer not unlike the fantasy name generators nerds use to name their DnD characters (all my love to those nerds).

It associates pixel and hue arrangements with words and phrases and generates images based on those associations. AI has no independent thought. It’s a computer program. It does what you tell it to and has no feelings or opinions of its own.

It cannot have intent.

The only thing that can be successfully argued about an image created by an AI program is that that program did, in fact, create it. Its programming functioned as designed. (No, by the way, this does not mean its programmers are artists either.)

Meanwhile, the tech bro typing “big tittied anime girl” into the prompt line has PLENTY of what you might call intent. He wants to see big tittied anime girls, and he wants to see them in any variety of style he can think of. All he has to do is add “Eiichiro Oda” to his prompt and boom, he has as many big-tittied anime girls with the combined proportions of a Hooter’s waitress and a Jabiru stork as his heart desires.

But he didn’t make the image. The AI did. He may have had an idea of what he wanted the image to look like, but he could as easily have navigated to Google images and typed in the same prompt to pull up the same result.

Here we come to the thrust of my argument: telling a program to generate an image makes you no more the artist of that image than it makes the professor the artist of his students’ work. Being involved in the creation of an image simply by asking for it to be made does not make you its creator.

Telling something, or someone, to create a piece of art does not assign that art’s provenance to you.

So, to answer the questions I posed at the beginning:

2) The AI is the provenance of the image, but

1) No, it is not art, because the AI had no personal intention to create it.

Whether or not AI can be used to create art at all is a different argument, which boils down to: eh, maybe. In my view, AI can create material which an artist can use to go on to make a piece of art. But that requires further intent to be added within that use.

Which tech bros just aren’t adding.

[hoodieseasoned]

wanted to draw some seablings and water

so here they are :3

i remembered i own watercolors, and also a scanner lol (though i don't think i like what the scanner results look like that much,,, tho, it was better than using the phone camera as there isn't any annoying shiny-ness)

idk how to draw water but i think it turned out quite interesting looking

i used a part of john william waterhouse's "hylas and the nymphs" -painting as a reference

here is some progress pictures

my phone camera has trouble processing color pencils ig, you can see it looks a bit fuzzy for some reason

also i really like their expressions from the sketch, i did lose those in the coloring progress which is sad ;^;

btw feel free to give me any requests in the askbox abt empires (season 1) cast/hermits to draw as i enjoy working off of prompts (inspiration has been hard to come by recently, this is a cry for help lolol)

[caughtthedarkness93]

So I just saw Furiosa and first, yeah, the reviews are right, it's really good, but second, it's interesting because the trailers had me primed to look for allusions to Greek mythology and similar allusions to classical epics there were...well, enough that I don't think it was an accident. Most centered around the villain, Dementus.

Like to name just a few (Possible spoilers)

• Dementus' first vehicle is a chariot pulled by three motorcycles.

• The red cloak Dementus wears calls to mind the visage of a Roman emperor.

• He moves on Gastown while someone is copying a painting that I believe is of Odysseus and the Sirens the painting Hylas and the Nymphs by John William Waterhouse, which, while not a direct reference to the Odyssey as I was thinking, is till a painting that depicts a story from Greek mythology. Thanks @kobresias!

• When moving on Gastown, he uses a Trojan Horse tactic. The actors involved in this scene are literally credited using the phrase "Trojan Truck." I did not pull the Trojan Horse thing out of my ass.

• Most notable of all, Dementus' truck has a Cerberus motif. He has three dogs that are kept in a cage on the back - and with their three heads sticking out and the rest in shadows, they have a profile that looks like the three-headed hound of Hades quite a bit. And lest you think I'm crazy...

Look closely

It's got a Cerberus hood ornament.

I think I'll have to see it again before I make any really strong judgements about it. There are, of course, arguable parallels to the Odyssey and the Iliad, given that Furiosa is 1. a story about a long and difficult journey home, like the Odyssey, and 2. a story about a warrior's rage - which...well, no matter the translation, one of the first things that the Iliad talks about is Achilles' rage or wrath.

But maybe there's more to it, yeah? I dunno. I'm not sure what to make of this one let. Any thoughts, anyone?

[mystargirl-interlude]

Finnick and fem fem fem reader? Yes.

★ ✰ ✦ ♡ ♤ *ੈ✩‧₊˚.

Before Finnicks games he use to see her around school all the time especially identifying her by the different flowers scattered in her hair, finnick and most people knew of her but most didn’t know her name and just referred to her as “flower child”. Her and finnick were neighbors and he totally would not watch her play with her pet bunnies outside we all know he would. The first time finnick went over to her house he was 12 and she was 11, she definitely owned 3 small bunnies and one fully grown one, from then on it was safe to say he was over at her out a lot more. Right before his games in the visitor room before he’s sent off he confesses right then and there and won’t let her say anything back because he wants her to say it to him when he gets back, he’s gonna fight to get back to her. You best believe the moment he got back they were inseparable, he wouldn’t leave her alone and it was like that until he turns 16 and snow tries to sell him but he doesn’t in this world 😘 but when snow puts his flower girl into the games as a punishment leaving finnick a mess the entire time they are in the Capitol, he fully blames himself for putting you into this mess and don’t even start on when she’s in the arena, she got finnick rethinking all of his life choices. The moment she comes out of the arena with two new records set; highest kill count and quickest games in all of hunger games history, she fought to get back to him. As soon as they got back to 4 finnick definitely moved in with her and her bunnies like him being the most intimidating male Victor sleeping in his girlfriends pink princess bed with bunnies surrounding them. He definitely knew she was the one the moment he met her when he was 12, so what if she’s a little crazy she just made it so easy to love

don’t know what this was, but it’s five am, time to clock into stantwt, goodnight stargirl nation I apologize for any typos and you little fuckers better not steal any of this cause I got no problem dragging y’all 😭

[fromthedust]

Natural History Museum - London 

The Museum first opened its doors on 18 April 1881, but its origins stretch back to 1753 and the career of Sir Hans Sloane, a doctor and collector. Sloane travelled the world as a high society physician. He collected natural history specimens and cultural artefacts along the way. After his death in 1753, Parliament  bought his extensive collection of more than 71,000  items, and then built the British Museum so these items could be displayed to the public. In 1856 Sir Richard Owen - the natural scientist who came up with the name for dinosaurs - left his role as curator of the Hunterian Museum and took charge of the British Museum’s natural history collection. Unhappy with the lack of space for its ever-growing collection of natural history specimens, Owen convinced the British Museum's board of trustees that a separate building was needed to house these national treasures. He drew-up a rough architectural plan in 1859 entitled 'Idea of a Museum of Natural History'. The plan was later referred to by architect Alfred Waterhouse in the design of the Natural History Museum. In 1864 Francis Fowke, the architect who designed the Royal Albert Hall and parts of the Victoria and Albert Museum, won a competition to design the Natural History Museum. However, when he unexpectedly died a year later, the relatively unknown Alfred Waterhouse - a Quaker architect from the north of England - took over and came up with a new plan for the Museum. Waterhouse used terracotta for the entire building as this material was more resistant to Victorian London's harsh climate. Construction began in 1873, and the result is one of Britain’s most striking examples of Romanesque architecture — considered a work of art in its own right and has become one of London's most iconic landmarks. Owen's foresight has allowed the Museum to display very large creatures such as whales, elephants and dinosaurs, including the beloved Diplodocus cast that was on display at the Museum for 100 years. He also demanded that the Museum be decorated with ornaments inspired by natural history. And he insisted that the specimens of extinct and living species kept apart at a time when Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution was revealing the links between them. Along with incorporating Owen’s ideas into his plans, Waterhouse also designed an incredible series of animal and plant ornaments, statues and relief carvings throughout the entire building – with extinct species in the east wing and living species in the west. Waterhouse sketched every one of these sculptures in great detail, even asking Museum professors to check the scientific accuracy of his drawings, before creating the fantastic decorations that complement the Museum’s exhibitions.  While the building reflects Waterhouse’s characteristic architectural style, it is also a monument to Owen’s vision of what a museum should be. In the mid-nineteenth century, museums were expensive places visited only by the wealthy few, but Owen insisted the Natural History Museum should be free and be accessible to all. The Museum took nearly eight years to build, and moving the collections from the British Museum in Bloomsbury was a huge job. Relocating the zoological specimens, which included huge whale bones and taxidermy mammals, took 394 trips by horse and cart spread over 97 days. The Natural History Museum finally opened in 1881. The building’s decorative and Romanesque style by Waterhouse is reminiscent of medieval European abbeys, but it is also a monument to Owen’s vision of what a museum should be: the world’s largest and finest institution dedicated to natural history.

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/about-us/history-and-architecture.html

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/visit/virtual-museum.html

[carefulignorantghost]

Is “Faded” by Suki Waterhouse about Miles Kane? They dated from 2011 to 2013. Some lyrics remind me of Miles.

“You used to call me Yoko/Cause I made a joke that all your friends were leaving/And I’m your lover.” Does this refer to Alex and the rest of Arctic Monkeys moving to LA, while Miles stayed in London?

“We were gonna stay together/And you could never go and date teenagers.” Suki was 19 and Miles was 25 when they started dating.

“You never should’ve changed your ways and faded/The colors you painted were perfectly simple/I know you used to hate it when I’d say that/All of these days that, that we remember/Faded away.” Suki is telling Miles that he never should’ve tried to fit in/be a certain way when he was already perfect. Miles used to hate when she said it, but she really meant it. Since so much time has passed, the memories are fading away.

“Ever heard a northerner say naughty?” Miles Kane is from Birkenhead, a town in Northern England. This line can’t be referring to Bradley Cooper, an American, nor to Robert Pattinson, a native of London.

“I was still in primary school when people thought your band was cool.” Miles’ band The Little Flames was created when Suki was about 12 years old.

Do you think “Faded” is about Miles Kane?

[hsw3k]

Hylas I see, but why does he cover his hair with rushes? Why does he carry a pitcher? What is that blue he wears?

Valerius Flaccus, Argonautica

I don't know if this pic was a deliberate homage to the John William Waterhouse painting, but it was extremely useful as a reference.

[neathyingenue]

Drew this a while ago but just now getting to post it!! Here's a sketch of Silvia's Parabola reflection. I'm calling her "the Daffodil Maiden." For an overexplanation of the Yucatec Maya, Welsh, Spanish, English, and Catholic visual references-- look below the cut :)

Also I *am* working on the OC gouache portraits (got one done and two sketched out) but my hip is injured or something?? making sitting down painful so I can't paint :/ As soon as I can, I will get to work on those again!

The majority of the reflection's garment is based on the huipil of the Yucatec Maya, specifically the versions worn in the jarada, the national folk dance of Belize. Silvia's is embroidered with daffodils, the national flower of Wales. The flared hem is ruffled and gathered, trimmed with ribbon, a nod to European textiles/sewing techniques and Spanish folk-dance costumes. The ribbon sash thing is also part of the jarada costume--here I want it to constrict Silvia a bit.

The long unstyled hair is taken from the pre-Raphaelite painters, who depicted idealized versions of Victorian youthful femininity. Specifically I'm thinking of Waterhouse's 'Lady of Shalott,' because that poem is about a mirror and a forbidden glimpse of a desired reality. It's too perfect for Parabola! The halo, though, moves us into the more austere Catholic ideal of the virgin saint, most notably Mary the mother of Jesus.

I specifically took inspiration from the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico and the Americas, who legend states appeared to an Indigenous peasant, St. Juan Pablo. There is a lot of debate among Latin Americans about how the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe should be interpreted. Is her apparition the Church's attempt to redirect and control Indigenous goddess-worship? Or does it represent an important step toward inclusion in Christianity for Mary to appear to an oppressed non-white person? Does she represent colonial control, or the resistance to it? Although Silvia was never Catholic, Catholicism is one of the most recognizable impacts of Spain's colonialism in the Americas, so I wanted to visually depict that tension in this design.

The daffodil rod references iconography of St. Joseph, Mary's husband. Legend states that his walking-stick flowered with lilies to show everyone that he would be Mary's husband and Jesus's legal father. Joseph is the patron saint of fathers, immigrants, exiles, and workers, so that's also relevant to Silvia's backstory.

With this design, I'm trying to convey Silvia's complicated relationship to her cultural identities, as well as her deep desire to be seen as morally pure and good. I think she would be uncomfortable with how European and maidenly her reflection is--because it would force her to confront the fact that her moral code, no matter how radical, still smacks of European philosophy and Catholic ideals of "purity."

[bogofaspen]

reference used: john william waterhouse painting

[folkloreposes]

Suki

Here’s my new posepack based on Suki Waterhouse! she’s great and i wanted to represent the vibes that i get from her, plus i used some pictures of her as a reference for this posepack! hope you enjoy :)

DOWNLOAD

Patreon (free access) [X]

SimFileShare [X]

REQUIRED

Coffee cup

Guitar

iPhone accessory

armchair

Teleport any sim mod

Andrew’s pose player

@ts4-poses​

[porkchop200324]

I truly love Riley Keough and Sam Claflin, but it's like they're the only DJATS actors to exist. Why didn't Suki Waterhouse get nominated for an Emmy? Camila Morrone was a lead Actress, not supporting?

Also unrelated, but Camila being referred to as Camila Alvarez bothers me. It's Camila Dunne, I pretty sure she kept using Alvarez professionally. Like 911, Athena uses Grant professionally, but she's still Grant- Nash. Maddie probably still uses Buckley for some things. (I doubt it though lol, bc her parents suck.)

[puffins-studio]

Gallifrey One 2024!

Ignore the fact this is 3 maybe 4ish months late I couldn’t write well for a while. Since it been a bit since I went and am typing going off of notes, I may keep rambling a bit, but I always ramble, I mostly do this just so people know the actors reactions to my dolls but it also fun to share experiences too.

It was fun as I made ribbons for this year! It was also fun I got so many little trinkets in return and some special ribbons because I was In cosplay!. I had some that were audio reference so not many understand them but people really liked them and for the people that got my random references made me so happy! I think my favorite had to be my “for the love of spoons!” As I got the 7 lovers, a few Hebe Harrison fans who got the reference! And fellow spoonies who read and it and loved it and asked for more to give to their friends too!

The dolls I made for this year

Adric (Matthew Waterhouse)

He is great! I went to his panel and there wasn’t many of us there but it was just calm and full of little jokes and it was just a good feeling, he talked about his writing with the book and audios he did and recommended some, and of course I bought them to listen too! I think I also love that he jokey also calls his adric outfit ‘Pajamas’ he also had ribbons to give out

I think the most memorable thing at the con as a whole was when I went to his script reading it was the last day and I had a lot of my sewing ribbons left so I just went done the line of people waiting to get in a ribbon as there not a lot of classic fans and i found a kid waiting in line and I just got excited that there was another young person in the classic crowd,I made sure to sit next to him when we went in, he said it was his first con so I was just giving him things I have gotten at the con, as I always thing those are some of the best parts, I gave him a beaded blanket I just got that read river, I let him pick any pin I had on my lanyard, he picked a vote Saxon button, and since he was dressed as the 2nd doctor I found him a 2nd doctor ribbon from ones I have received and I give that to him too. I keep trying to encourage him to go up and read the lines when they called on people, I helped him go up and read Adric’s lines as I was just pointing at him and trying to encourage him that it’s just fun, there no need to worry as I can’t read too and I went up and people wouldn’t remember you so it okay if he think he can’t read and Matthew Waterhouse himself picked him and the kid choice to go up. Then the host of the event had a Adric star and stop them before they all started to read, and gave the kid the star pin for the scene as he was reading Adric’s lines. He got to say the closing lines of the script the host let the kid keep the pin afterwards! I felt so happy for him! And I have to think it must have been fun for him too, and to just have a 13 cosplayer with the crazy goggles and apron giving him two thumbs up trying to encourage him as he was up there must have been funny

Rose (Billie Piper)

She is so nice! I always feel a bit awkward giving my dolls to people, and it even more so when I try to give them to actors but she liked it! And it made me happy, and then one of the handlers saw I had ribbons so I also got to add to her ribbon train, I think meeting her made me like Rose even more. I can’t remember if I got a ribbon back but it was really nice to give them to people and to actors who like to collect them!

Jackie (Camille Coduri)

She was also really nice, I went to one of her talks and it was so great. When I was making her doll I had a hard time trying to decide on the outfit. I finally picked it when I read in the doctor who magazines, the costume edition that she got to keep the coat and shoes from her final episode but then one day she just give it to a charity shop, I was just I need to do that one. When I give it to her she was like ‘Oo shouldn’t really!? And I was just ‘I made it for you, you can have it’ and she was just saying how good it was and we laughed over the coat as she recognized it and re told me the story and I told her that how I picked that outfit. Sorry to any Peter fans i didn’t make him a doll as I was cuting it close and to be honest I kinda forgot about his character and didn’t know how much he care for the character

The Master (Eric Roberts)

He was cool, He was the only other actor J didn’t give a doll too, you can see I made one to take a picture with. But how I do my pictures and dolls is I look at the schedule (I love schedules) and I take a picture before I have them autographed my book and I give the doll after the picture during the autograph. I like this way as sometimes am bad with names and faces and this is a quick way to figure out who in the picture for me as I can just look at the doll and I never know what pose I should do so this give me one, his schedule didn’t work with my plans and I thought since he was American he probably wouldn’t want this random British character anyways so I didn’t give it to him. He was cool at his booth as he was taking selfie with almost everyone in front of me. (I know after the fact I realized i could have just taken a picture with him and the doll then at the booth, but am sometimes bad socially as I don’t want to take up their time even tho that what you pay for when you pay for photos and autographs but I also feel like am holding up the line when it like last then a minute) in the photos he was nice as he was like here come front and stand here and we can do this nice picture

River (Alex Kingston)

I was excited for her as she was the first actor I have meet at a con. I did feel a bit embarrassed as when she show my doll as was like “oh it’s a little me? Without any eyes?” And kinda did a laugh and i couldn’t tell if she didn’t like it and was just trying to be nice, but I bet she have a lot of people like this. When I was getting her autograph I was like one of the very last people on the very last day so by that point everyone was tried so when I got up to her booth I had her sign my new book and the old one I had and she seem confused why she was signing it twice, but I thought it was neat as with doctor who is all about time, and meeting again, and I thought it be cool having her sign the same book like 10 years later. Looking back I should have asked her to date it too so it goes with that idea better but that me just reasoning my anxiety and the looking back on it. It was still really great to see all the river cosplayers and having people understand very minor references and getting excited over it! There was one that give me one of tho red round glass stones for a reference to the Ruby in the ruby’s curse

The Master (Derek Jacobi)

Okay I got super excited again when I learned Jacobi was coming to Gally as I just love the war master audios! And if you know me you know I love the Shaka doctor and master! I made him professor Yana as again I didn’t know which to pick and I thought the first version to officially make it to air, I have a picture of him with the doll and I feel a bit awkward at the moment so I don’t think I will put the other one of me in my Jo cosplay with him. But I feel I look bad in it and it just look like all the others. I got him to sign a shalka picture and I give him my master ribbon with my doll thr ribbon that reads ‘*gasp* “Doctor you’re alive! I mean how dare you!”’ Was that line is actually from the shalka episode. When I was getting food I looked to my left and saw an amazing Simm and Missy pair and I just stop for moments to look before rushing over just “I have a master ribbon! As it just a master line and there so few master ribbons are there, They laughed at it so I think that enjoyed! but for Jacobi my anxiety kicked in and just kinda left like “I hope i didn’t come off as to weird” as I also just keep nodding as I didn’t have any words for that moment

Sylvia (Catherine Tate)

And the best for last! She was just so sweet 😭

I had her sign my river diary first and she said she really liked all the crafting people do for their costumes and props and I was like ‘oh I made that book’ and she was just ‘what!’ And then I showed her the dolls I made her, she couldn’t believe it, first she thought the doll was the doctor but then once I said it was her she got so excited! And I had to give her a wilf too! I thought a Sylvia doll shouldn’t be without a Wilf doll and I thought who wouldn’t want a little Wilf, I give her a ribbon too the one that said “We keep them alive by telling our stories”. she was asking how I made them and looking at all the detail and she was so thankful she got up and give me a hug! Later on I ran into the person who was after me in line at her booth and they told me I accidentally start a crying Chain because it was just so sweet. Oops… I accidentally killed them with kindness. She had ribbons to give out,they said ‘I’ve made you a nice curry’ I think she think it not a cool enough line to give in exchange but I like it as it sweet like a nice cooked meal. But For the picture I wanted it with both so when I went up I asked if she wanted to hold one and she was just “aww Wilf”

These were all the little other trinkets I got from other people! I was givien them by trade with other fans. All except my little felt dolls obviously

I had a great times just stopped and handing out ribbons that matched people’s cosplayer a ribbon! It was the last day and I saw a kerblam man and I was going to ask to take a picture and I wait as there was this other person and they turned and I saw their full cosplay and there briefcase and I was just ‘Delgado!’ And he give me a fake daffodil and some pins!

I just loved giving things to people, I was in line for photos and I just hand out ribbons to everyone around me and there was a bill cosplayer and I was just “Bill!” Earlier that day I got another beaded bracelet that was bill theme as this person had bracelets for the female companion, it had Bill’s name and the beads matched her shirt. and to the cosplayer I was just “here do wanted it!” and they like “yes!” So I just give it to them and they give me some trans stickers in return and the person next to us was like this is why I love gally

Another thing that I loved was I give the people at the cosplay repair station my sewing ribbons and they loved it. It was actually sweet as I made the ribbons as I was going to try and make things to pass out but I didn’t finish them, so I just had the ribbons and i wasn’t sure if I should even put those ribbons in my box, but I did and people really liked the saying on it and it made me happy that it was people’s favorite one.

One last funny thing, I had on my ace cosplay and I accidentally let me mom walk away with my phone and in the moment of realization I was just *pat jacket* empty pockets*pat skirt* no pockets. literally my whole schedule and everything was on my phone and with my disability i can’t remember phone numbers or anything (i literally have a note on my phone with emergency contacts and stuff so if I need it) luckily my mom saw she had 2 phones and rush back downstairs to give me my phone back but obviously as a 13 fun I had this scene running though my head

[nsewell]

17, 20, 31, 32, & 58 for nate and gen pleaaaase <33

otp asks.

17. who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

so nate is very much the instigator at the begining of their relationship for most everything but espescially the physical aspects, gen is just. very slow moving with initiating that kind of stuff until they reach a certain point, i think it even surprises her that it's something she wants to do and has to get comfortable with, she can be touch averse. however the dynamic shifts once gen feels more settled and then she's definetely the one more likely to drag him down by the lappels at unexpected moments and lay one on him

20. choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship?

i'll cheat and pick 2 because i think their relationship has different flavors to it, the swept up passion and the undercurrent of tension from all the secrets

the louvre by lorde

well, summer slipped us underneath her tongue / our days and nights are perfumed with obsession / half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom floor / use our eyes, throw our hands overboard

good looking by suki waterhouse

the skyline falls as i try to make sense of it all / i thought i'd learned all of your secrets but turns out there's more / you adored me before / oh, my good looking boy

30. your otp gets to pick out each other's outfits: what is each wearing?

ooh i'll do date night fits as the context is actually something i see happening in my canon for them, they both get off a little on this ^^. nate would love to dress her in something that belongs to him, probably that he's owned for a long time, like a blazer or his leather jacket that would be oversized on her, layered on top of a black dress bc he knows it's her favorite color to wear. and then he'd adorn her with jewelry he bought for her, silver of course, she's a winter color season. she would take him out his layering and put him in a button down with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. in his little chinos with a belt on and his hair down and loose it's so over for her she thinks he looks his best when he's dressed like a whorish college professor

32. who's the better storyteller?

nate can weave a better tale just because gen tends to get caught up in minor details and specifics, just gets too pragmatic. as a child she was always interrupting bedtime stories with endless why's and how come's that would drive her nanny up the wall

58. who's more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

gennnn absolutely gen the instance where nate tries to prevent her from defending herself did not go over well in book 3, in the aftermath she chose pointedly not to sit by him lol. she will withhold affection, she can be petty and unhealthy about things! she does not have a good frame of reference for healthy relationships so communication can be a bit of an impasse with her. she's growing be patient with her nate.