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amarantine-amirite · 4 years ago

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Acquired Ability: Existential Crisis

People think success is a step by step process. They think there’s only one way to be successful. That’s not true. There is no one recipe for success. You just have to do what works best for you.

How will you know what works best for you? You just don’t know until you try it. How far do you have to go to find something that works for you? You don't know, so you have to plan ahead.

Planning is hard for me. Of all my ideas, about 25% are actual, coherent thoughts. I can only work about 10% of those coherent thoughts into an actual plan.

I thought tonight would be the first time in my life a plan actually worked. I was wrong. And what did I get for my troubles? Two black eyes and scratches all up my arms.

How did things go from zero to “time to hide behind a tree way out in the middle of nowhere”? It's kind of complicated and messy, but here we go.

At school, I never received any awards, because I never did any extracurricular activities. I had to work so much harder than my friends at getting my school obligations done. I had no energy left for stuff on top of that. That always made me feel a little bit broken. Since the awards you win matter to colleges, the guidance counsellor instructed me to take a personality quiz to see what type of extracurricular I'd be good at. I took the quiz, and it said that I should do drama, since the AI working behind the scenes predicted that I'd make a good actress.

You can't use an AI to predict that sort of thing. You never really know who's going to be successful in performing arts and who won't. For every person who goes on to be a famous actor, there are about 50 who don’t. Nobody talks about them. We hear nothing about them because they didn’t succeed.

Beyond AI's failing to take into account survivorship bias, we had a bigger problem with the drama department: they couldn’t seem to make up their minds.

The original plan was to do Romeo and Juliet, but Sarah’s dad didn’t want her to kiss Joshua. In response, the school changed the play to The Lion King. Due to a translation flub, we wound up with the materials to do Cats. In less than a week, they changed it to The Hunchback of Notre Dame because Cats triggered Bernadette’s fear of cats. That lasted about a day because literally everybody thought it was “problematic”. Everybody got sick of the department constantly changing the play, so we settled on doing Singing In The Rain.

I got the part of Lina Lamont. Rather than do Lina's hellacious voice as a screechy Brooklyn accent, I thought it would be funny if I did a lisp (think “I have a vewy gweat fwiend in Howwywood named Wina Wamont”). The idea was that Lina's voice wasn't just hard on the ears, but hard on the brain as well.

I thought it was funny. Other people disagreed with me. Hard.

One morning, the school sent a car to take me down to the school board’s head offices. They wanted to have a talk with me about my performance as Lina.

The car came by to pick me up at 5:30 AM. I wore a simple, purple lace dress. My hair was kind of greasy and akimbo because I didn’t really get a chance to fix it. Since I was in a situation where I had to choose between brushing my teeth and doing my hair, I went with the teeth. In my mind, keeping your gums healthy always beats out having your hair look nice.

I tuned out most of the drive, but what sticks in my memory begins when we drove down a dark road with wet pavement surrounded by lots of trees. As we continued, it started to rain outside, and the trees Seemed to close in on the road. When we passed the first sign we’d seen Since we got on the freeway, I had that overwhelming feeling I should’ve turned back.

It got dark really quickly. I couldn't tell whether it’s actually night or it’s dark enough from the trees, like in Germany’s black forest. I could feel my stomach drop a little bit when we headed through a road tunnel. Uh oh, I thought, nothing good ever happens in these.

"What do you mean?" the driver asked me. I guess I thought out loud a little too loudly.

"I mean that tunnels are kind of scary to me," I responded, "Princess Diana crashed in a tunnel. People always seem to get carjacked in tunnels, and during stuff like earthquakes and landslides, tunnels always seem to collapse on people."

“You have no need to worry about the tunnel. You should worry about how you’re going to explain your performance to the superintendent.”

As for what I would tell the superintendent, my plan was to say that I wanted to leave my stamp on the school so I would feel a little less broken inside. I felt pretty confident that they'd buy it. Now, I'm not so sure anymore.

The school district’s head office was one of those places where reality felt somewhat altered. It felt more like a pit stop than an actual destination. Even though I was in a ton of trouble, I felt unusually at ease.

I think this is why people take gap years. Existing in between two points in time or between two places actually feels good. You feel like you can and should do whatever you want.

It feels way better than being dragged into one of those situations where everything you say is the wrong thing. I know because that's exactly what my meeting turned into.

I'm not going to play that game. I'm not going to take the bait. Unfortunately, I didn't know what to do, so I walked out.

After I left the room, I got the urge to just run in a straight line. Once I went from the hall to the parking garage, I just bolted. Apparently, if you run fast enough, you can run up a wall.

Running up the wall is mostly a motorcycle thing. you have to move pretty fast to do it. The motorbike sticks to the wall because the friction counteracts gravity. if you aren’t moving fast enough, there won’t be enough friction to stop you from falling. I have no idea how I managed to run that fast.

A minute later, I could hear the superintendent say, “Janice, bring me a very long stick, we are running up the wall after her.”

They were chasing after me.

They didn’t catch up to me. I heard much clattering and swearing soon after. I think they may have needed a longer stick.

A few minutes later, I slowed down just enough that I couldn’t maintain enough friction to counteract gravity anymore. The minute I sensed that I was going to fall I stuck my arms out to break my fall, but I beaned myself in the eyes with my wrists. Much like running fast enough to run up the wall, I have no idea how I managed to do that. Also, I landed in holly bushes. The coarse leaves scratched up my arms and legs.

I felt like such an idiot, but at least I made it outside.

Outside was hot and humid, with a brisk wind and heavy rain. Thick, lush greenery concealed a chorus of screaming frogs. I continued to run until I reached a tool shed. Once I got there, I took cover.

By the time the rain stopped, morning had already come. I crept out of the tool shed, and glared at the offices from behind a tree. But that would’ve done anything. I tried to put my stamp on the school, and it fell apart hard.

Some people treat journeys such as these as vision quests where you come back with certain abilities and a new outlook on life. I don't think I gained anything other than bruises/scratching from falling off the wall and a huge existential crisis.

What makes planning a response so hard? Is my executive function just garbage, or are the people around me trying to set me up to fail? Are people reading my mind, and if so, are they doing so to conspire against me? Questions like these make me ponder the validity of my existence. How do I know what’s right when every decision feels like the wrong one? No matter how hard I plan, something will happen to make it fall apart.

@writeroftheprompts

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #writeroftheprompts #creative writing #short story

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tatterdhearts-a · 5 years ago

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@voiceofmany asked : 🎰 o:

BLUE SARGENT && BELLE GOODMAN : blue knows all about single moms and i feel like she’d look up to belle for all her hardwork and i could see her getting along really well with with belle and she’d always offer to babysit cora too whenever belle had work !

KIM DAN && LINA KALIGARIS : ummm my sweet bby angel trying to help lina find her place in the world and assure her that her art is amazing and that she’s doing good and constantly encouraging her ?? Y E S !!

ALINA STARKOV && SATINE DURAND : hm, not sure how they could work ?? timelines are tricky and their canons are really different. but ?? i think satine could be someone alina might not like/understand at first, but eventually, really look up to her in the end once she knows her better??

LUCKY KIM && RAMONA FLOWERS : lucky’s a pretty shy bean so i could see him a lil intimidated by ramona at first?? idk if she’d like him, but he would be nice to her he’s a softie tbh.

JAY OF AGRABAH && JACK HARKNESS : who knows how these two could work, but ithink they’d be pretty fun tbh !!

#voiceofmany #( ask answered. )#ahhh i love all of these #we gotta do more things !!!

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the-lina-project · 6 years ago

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Amatxi’s Story

Written by Michelle

Lina begin her cooking experiences as a little girl in Urepel. As the oldest of six children, her Ama depended on Lina’s help to feed the family: planting beans and onions, shopping for coffee and sugar, foraging for mushrooms and chestnuts. From Ama she learned the art of Basque Navarrese cuisine; the preparation of simple, nutritious meals from the bounty of the Pyrenean region.

She honed her skills in Montana, cooking three meals a day for sheep herders on the Etchart’s Stone House Ranch. Under Catherine Etchart tutelage, she added to her repertoire, baking pastries, canning fruits and vegetables, fermenting Chokeberry wine.

Later in Los Angeles, she befriended chefs from restaurants in the French community. She and René invited them to dinner parties, beginning in her living room drinking cocktails in stem glasses, moving to her modern kitchen sharing opinions and lending a hand, and ending around her dining room table partaking of epicurean plates of food and red wine.

Here are excerpts, two stories about Lina cooking.

Lina Urepel, 1902 Talua

Lina stood on tiptoes, fingers pressed into the tabletop, watching Ama made talua. Ama mixed cornmeal with a sprinkle of salt on the table top. She poured a stream of tepid water from a cracked cup into the mix, her hands deftly mixing and kneading the sticky dough, bits clinging to her fingers. She began forming the thickened dough into balls the size of Lina’s fist.

“Ni ere, Ama,” Lina said. “Me too. I want to roll the talua!”

Ama smiled at the bright-eyed four-year-old. “Get the stool, little one.”

Lina carried Ama’s little wooden footstool to the table and climbed up. Ama handed her a small mound of grainy dough. Lina copied Ama’s movements, kneading and rolling, occasionally licking her little sticky fingers, her head bent in concentration.

Once all the dough was formed into balls, Ama selected two and pounded them firmly with her palm fashioning them into thin patties. Lina watched and did the same with her mound of dough.

“Is yours ready to cook?” Ama asked, placing the patties on a plate.

“Bai, Ama,” Lina said eyes widening in wonder. She was cooking!

Ama moved to the hearth where her cast iron skillet heated over the coals. Lina jumped down and crowded against Ama’s skirt to watch. “Hot, Lina, don’t touch,” she warned.

One-by-one, Ama dropped the three patties onto the hot surface. They puffed and bubbled, forming a crisp brown crust. Lina breathed in the delicious toasty scent of cooking corn.

As they grilled, Ama placed three bowls and spoons on the table. “Come sit,” she called out to Antonio and Pilar playing nearby.

The three small children clambered to the table and up onto chairs. They eagerly watched as she carried the cooked patties to the table. The first went into Lina’s bowl.

“This one is yours,” she said. Lina leaned in, tapping the hot talua with her fingertip, nose close to the inviting smell.

Ama poured creamy goat’s milk from a pitcher into each bowl. With her spoon, Lina broke the talua into pieces to soak up the milk. She scooped up a satisfying mouthful.

Lina Montana, 1916 Txistorra (xerrika)

In late October, John Etchart announced they would have txistorra, a pig slaughter, the following week. Their friends, the Etchepare family, were traveling from their ranch in Nashua to help and they were bringing a Bernard, a Basque herder who could help with the butchering. They family would spend two nights at the Stone House.

Txistorra was a Basque tradition, Lina knew it well. In Urepel, her family raised two pigs each year; one to slaughter for the family table, one to sell as income. In late Autumn, when cool weather could assist with preserving the meat, they joined with the Maritcorena family, their cousins and first neighbors, for the txisrorra. Her Aita and Uncle Justo, along with her brothers and male cousins, would slaughter a pig for each family. The men cut the pig carcass into portions of meat, curing it with salt and red epaulette pepper. The slabs of pork were hung in the upstairs attic, providing ham and bacon for the coming year. Her Ama and Aunt Josepha, with Lina and Pilar helping, would make buzkantzak, blood sausage. A txistorra was several days of hard work for everyone, but was also a festive time, with the families eating together at Josepha’s long table, dishes of fresh pork and for dessert, sweet Basque cake. Lina was excited about the idea of visitors

An air of excitement permeated the ranch. To get ready for their visitors. Lina baked loaves bread, Catherine made French pâte feuilletée, puff pastries. In the upstairs bunk room, they hung blankets separating one side for the Etchepares to sleep. Lina cleaned and made beds.

The Etchepare farm wagon pulled up to the Stone House just as the sun begin its low dip in the autumn sky, the air cooling quickly. Jean Baptiste swung down from the wagon and embraced John Etchart, the two men patting each other on the back with pleasure. John Baptiste was an amiable man, a ready smile beneath his walrus moustache. He had grown up in St Etienne de Biagorry, first immigrating to Montana to herd sheep in 1892. He established a successful ranch and a reputation for being responsible and hardworking. He went back to Pays Basque and married Jeanne Etchart from Aldudes. The two returned to Montana together in 1905. Jeanne was slender, long legged and attractive, looking much like her cousin John. She was soft spoken and kind, greeting Catherine and Lina warmly, kisses on each cheek. Lina liked her immediately.

Bernard, the butcher, climbed out of the back of the wagon along with the Etchepare children. Charley (10) was a handsome, serious boy who stuck by his father. Ralph (8) and Little Paul (5) had mischievous smiles and endless energy. They were eager to run around after sitting in the wagon all day. Angeline (6), a pretty little girl, immediately took Ferne by the hand and they followed her brothers exploring the ranch yard.

The Etchart ranch hands, Pete Etchart and Joseph Etchart, cousins and Jean Baptiste Urquilux, Catherine’s brother, greeted the Etchapare family. All were friends from both the old country and the new.

“Ongi etorri,” they greeted Lina, the newest arrival to Montana. She smiled broadly, eyes dancing, joining in the festive atmosphere.

The following morning dawned cool and cloudy, a light frost glittering the ground. It was a perfect autumn day for a txistorra. John and the men made preparations near the barn for the slaughter. They carried a rough work table out to the yard and covered it with a tarp for the butchering, they assembled a collection of knives, a small saw, buckets of water, tubs. Nearby, they dug a shallow pit and gathered piles of brush and grasses. Here they would scorch the pig’s skin to burn away hair.

After breakfast, everyone gathered around the barn stall where the pig had spent the night. John had chosen one of the biggest swine, a black and white male, well fed and fat. They opened the gate and the huge 300-pound pink and black pig waddled out. With gentle prodding, he followed them to the open area outside the barn. They gathered around and reached out hands to steady him. Altogether, the men scooped their hands under the pig’s big hulk and lifted up and on to the table. The pig squealed and struggled under their hands, but they held on.

Charley positioned himself at the pig’s head tub in hand. Bernard took a short, sharp knife and with a quick stab, punctured the pig’s neck at his jugular vein. A spirt of bright red blood arched and Charley moved the tub quickly to catch the spray.

“Ongi egina, well done, Charley!” the men congratulated him, laughing. Charley grinned.

The tub filled with bright red blood, Pete stirring it often with a wooden spoon to keep it from coagulating. The pig’s squeal grew softer, he stopped struggling, grunted and snorted, finally sighing into stillness. Bernard remained holding the neck at an angle until the flow of blood stanched, and the pig lay dead on his side.

“Looks like he’s a goner,” said Pete.

The men again gathered around the pig, lifted it down from the table and dragged it few yards across the yard to the pit. Here they covered it with the grasses and brush, then lit it on fire to burn off the hairs. The fire crackled and the smell of smoke and burnt flesh filled the air.

Pete climbed on a fence rail to watch, he lit a cigarette. “I remember one time…” and so begin the stories of txistorra in the past. The others joined in, joking in Basque, adding their own stories. A taxkoa of ardoa, wine, appeared and was passed around. They took swigs, tipping their heads back to swallow. Occasionally they threw handfuls brush on the pig mound to keep the fire burning.

After an hour of watching the pig was hairless and charcoal-ey black. They took it back to the table and begin the process of scraping and cleaning the skin. They poured warm water from buckets and with the edge of a knives, scraped the pig skin, head to tail leaving it pink and flabby to the touch.

They turned the pig on his back, legs up, and Bernard went to work. With a long sharp knife, he slit the belly open, used a saw and hatchet to cut through bone, until the innards were exposed. He scooped out the lard, puffy and white. Into a tub they placed the organs; the kidneys and lungs, the liver and heart and, finally, the long winding white intestines. Then pig’s feet, nose and ears were also sawed off. Its skin was peeled back leaving just a meaty carcass.

While the men continued at butchering, Lina carried the tub of pig entrails down to the edge of the creek below the house. Jeanne joined her, the two squatting in the wet grass; squeezing the intestines to empty them, rinsing them over and over in the cold, running water. Their aprons, skirt hems and boots were soon soaking wet, their hands red, fingers numb. As they worked, they, too, talked about life in the villages.

Lina smiled, remembering, and it made the work go more quickly. Finally, when the cases were clean, thin and transparent, they dipped them in salted vinegar and were done.

Back at house, the three women chopped onions and leeks from the garden and sautéed them until soft and carmalized. They ground dried bay leaves and pungent red peppers into a fine powder with a pestle and mixed in with salt and black pepper. They cut the fresh lard into fine white chunks. All of these ingredients were added to the tub of blood and stirred with a big spoon.

They laid the intestine casings out on the table and went to work. With spoons, they stuffed the blood mixture into the round opening, working it down the slimy tubes, and when they were round and full, tying the ends with string. The finished sausages were boiled in a pot of water and leeks until set. It was tiring work, Lina’s fingers ached, her hands were stained red, tendrils of hair brushed her face. The metallic smell permeated the air and clung to their damp clothes.

When, at last, the plump red buzkantzak lay on the table, the women sat on the benches, propped up on elbows, sipped a cup of coffee, and enjoyed the sight.

The reward for the long day of effort was a feast of pig. The group gathered around the table as the winter light faded, crowding on benches and chairs, laughing and already telling stories of the day. First, a soup of pigs’ feet, cooked with garlic and preserved tomatoes, just as Lina’s Ama made. Next, thin slices of liver simmered in onions. Finally, pork loin seasoned with epaulette pepper and roasted with potatoes and carrots. Bread and sheep cheese, and to finish, Catherine’s pâte feuilletée, and Chokeberry wine.

A note:

To write these stories, I relied on my mother’s notes, plus the following resources.

Traditional Basque Cooking By José Maria Busca Isusi

http://foodsoftheworld.activeboards.net/buzkantzak-basque-blood-sausages_topic3158.html

https://beckyinportugal.com/2017/01/10/algarvian-food-traditions/

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sharkface-daydreams · 3 years ago

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needed sth soft today... 💚💙

#lolina #agent Carolina #rvb locus #Samuel ortez #red vs blue #rvb #my art stuff #is that one of Sam's old UNSC shirts? maybe :3c #me and the oil paint brush aren't friends yet but we're getting there #unfriendly neighborhood bugman #lina bean

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avengerdragoness · 7 years ago

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Team Voltron with an Artist s/o HCs

Requested by @jxsontxdds: “JULES how about a headcanon for Team Voltron when they find out you can paint or do art? love ya girl and congrats <3"

A/n: Hope you love it Lina!!! ________

Shiro:

When he first finds out he doesn’t pressure you to show him your art.

He will wait until you want him to see it.

When he does get to see it, he finds it so amazing.

“Whoa, [F/n]! You’ve got a real talent here.”

He’s so very supportive.

If you make your own paints he will pick up alien plants with cool colors on missions for you to make paints out of.

Always on the look out for anything he think you may like for your art.

If you’re up for it, he loves to watch you.

You often end up sketching him as he’s working on things.

Keith:

He learns about your art when you present something to him.

Showing him a sketch or painting you had made and were on the fence about.

“Wait, I didn’t know you were an artist.”

“It’s just a hobby really.”

Insists to see what else you’ve done.

He loves all your works and likes to have them where he can see them all the time.

If he catches you sketching or painting he will end up watching over your shoulder.

Loves to catch you sketching him.

Lance:

He’s an oblivious boy.

Had exactly zero idea you were an artist.

When he finds out he’s so shocked.

“HOLD ON! You’re an artist?”

“Lance, my paintings are literally all over my room.”

When he hears that he wants to see all of the stuff you’ve done.

If you make something for him he puts it on display in his room.

He loves it and wishes he had your talent, so he wants to help.

WILL model for you.

Really supportive little bean.

Hunk:

He had suspicions.

He’d always see you washing paint off things in the kitchen.

When he finally asks about it you show him your art.

Finding it absolutely stunning.

“[F/n]! Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

Type of guy to help you with inspiration.

Sketching or painting any specifically interesting looking dishes he makes.

You have a sketchbook dedicated to his culinary masterpieces.

Pidge:

She’s kinda oblivious like Lance.

Never really noticed the multiple items in your room until you pointed it out.

All around she’s impressed.

Appreciates the time you put into them because she feels that with her being an engineer.

Will help you make anything you need for your art.

“You need more paints? I’ll make them.”

She loves to help you out and make it easy for you.

Allura:

Learning about your art intrigues her.

She wants to know about what art on Earth is like.

You explain to her different styles as she watches you.

“So this type of art is called modernism.”

Eventually she will show you some Altean style art and will show you how to do it.

Everyone is confused because all of a sudden art is everywhere in the castle.

Coran:

So very enthralled with your art.

He loves learning about new things and Earth art styles are definitely new.

He will tell you so many facts about art on Altea.

“I once saw the most realistic painting of a Duflax”

Will look up old altean art and show it to you.

You try and recreate some for him.

He treasures it.

1,200 Milestone - Headcanons: OPEN

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clevernewdimension · 8 years ago

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Exaulted Part Two

Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three (Coming soon!)

Genre: Drama, Romance, Violence, drug use, plus more!

Pairing: None yet! (There will be bits with most of them tbh)

Word Count: 5K

Soundtrack for this part: Glass Animals - Hazey [Listen here!]

A/N: warnings for alcohol use, drug use, things like that! Please enjoy!

The next morning I woke early, going to the dock and getting all the fresh seafood. It smelled awful, I had to plug my nose the entire time. I was allergic to seafood, so thankfully, the people at the docks loaded it all in. The docks were quite busy at the early morning hours, the sun still yet to rise. People rushing trying to get the best seafood for their fancy restaurants. It took a few minutes to drive away after all the food was loaded. People kept walking in the road no matter if the crosswalk told them it was safe or not. With an annoyed sigh, I stop for a coffee, getting another before I drove back to the palace. The card worked, opening the gate without a sound. I did everything I could to be quiet, even turning off my headlights to not shine them in the windows once it was light enough. I was so thankful that Mrs. Hana got someone to help me. One man coming out to help me unload the fish. I wore thick gloves to not touch it, trying not to feel ill from the smell. Part of me was thankful I was allergic to seafood, because the smell alone was enough to make me feel ill. I don’t understand how people could get it close to their nose, much less eat this.

“Here,” I say to the kitchen aid who helped me. “As a token of my gratitude.” I hand him the extra coffee I bought. “There’s no sugar or creamer in it, though.”

His hair was in a mess as he looked grateful. We wore all white, a chef’s hat on his head as he looks over at all the food. The man smiles, “Thanks. Going to be a long day for me.”

“I hope it goes well,” I say with a smile as I turn,walking to the van. “Sorry I can’t stay longer. I have to get to the student store and get some things I need before there’s a line. Hope you can have a restful night after a long day!”

“Thanks again,” He says, waving his hand as he goes back into the kitchen.

I get to the van, unlocking it and set off as quick as I could, though still obeying the speed limit.

The student store I dreaded usually. Mostly because if you can’t pay for it now, they have a tab system. Most of the people here put it on a tab and their parents pay for it all, even though they have cards and could pay with it themselves. I was good about not using it, having no money on my tab, but now I need a digital drawing tablet. Since my job seemed like a lock, I went for the one with the screen that doesn’t have to be connected to a computer. I had just enough money left if I budget correctly and eat sparsely for a few days. I always wanted the 22 inch one that does connect to a computer because it’s nice to see and dray fine details, but it’s not mobile and costs about half a week's pay, so I’ll have to wait until I have enough money for that and a computer than can run it.

I smile at the girl running the store as she rings me up. I turn to slide my card to pay, only to have someone else already doing that for me. Glancing at the person, I see Lina with a smug look on her face, nodding at the girl over the counter as she get’s the bag and hands it to me.

“Lina,” I groan, frowning.

“Nope,” She says, linking her arm with mine. “It’s a congratulatory present. Just make me something awesome to put on my social media accounts!”

I sigh, knowing that there was literally no one in the world more stubborn than Lina. “Fire.”

“Also,” She says with a grin. “A little birdie told me you got to meet the princes yesterday!”

“I get the feeling that ‘little birdie’ is six feet tall and has hair that looks like mine.”

“I was sworn to secrecy,” She says with a smile. “I’m surprised no one in their group noticed you before now. You’re hot as hell even though you do everything you can to go by unnoticed.”

“Lina, I thought we’ve been over this,” I groaned, “I’m not going to even entertain the possibility of doing anything that could harm my studies.”

“You’re so hardworking, that probably wouldn’t be able to even touch your GPA,” She mutters, as we walk towards the library. Today she wore a cute magenta dress. She looked so put together with her hair elegantly out of her face. Today the only class I have is my studio art one in two hours, so we normally go to the library. I study, she talks with friends or takes a guy to make out in between some book cases no one ever looks at. “They wanted me to ask you to the party they’re having this Friday night.”

“I’m surprised the whole campus isn’t talking about it,” I says, opening the door for the two of us. The library was quiet, barely anyone in here. It was large, three stories full of books. To the back left of the third floor is where Lina usually sneaks off to since no one ever uses those books. It was huge and grand, the staircases looking like something from a fairy tale.

“It’s because they only invite friends,” She says as we climb the steps to the second floor. “I told them you’d come.”

“Why would you lie, though,” I ask, giving her a weird expression, pulling out a chair as I get a sketchbook from my backpack. I wanted to work on an outline of my final painting project, even if it wasn’t due for another two and a half months, even if finals for the rest of my classes are in a week. Art, theater, dance and classes like that get a while longer, though I don’t know why.

“Because I’m here willing to beg you,” She says, sitting across from me. “Just think of it like all my Birthday and Christmas gifts for the next ten years.”

“More like twenty,” I say with a chuckle. “The people who go to those things are like you. Rich, amazing fashion sense, thrill seekers… all the things I’m not at all.”

“You have great fashion,” She says, gesturing to my body.

I look at myself, seeing a black tank top with some faded neon colored flowers with a black zip up hoodie. I wore shorts that had bits of lace sewn in at the bottoms that I got for five bucks at a thrift shop. My shoes were high top sneakers that were dark purple, one sock had colorful dots on it and the other had little cheeseburgers because I can’t stand to match my socks. My hair was in a ponytail, my angled bangs up and out of my face with a flat clip. I looked like a child who’s mother let dress themselves for the first time, though I oddly like it. However, I know my style is disgusting to them. “You really shouldn’t make a habit of lying,” I scold, getting the pencil in my hand.

“I’m not, you’re, like, lazy hipster chic. Sometimes you make it look cute, sometimes you make it hot! If I tried it I just look lazy,” She says with a smile.

“Probably because you are lazy,” a voice behind me says.

Lina smiles, “Jongdae, Chanyeol, Jongin! Hey!”

Jongdae takes the set beside me, sitting down while setting his backpack down with a thud. Jongin takes the seat at the head of the table while Chanyeol sits beside Lina. “What are you both up to?”

“Trying to convince Y/N to go to the party you all are going to have on Friday,” She says, pouting at me.

“Oddly enough, you pouting makes me not want to go even more,” I say with a sigh, closing my sketchbook. Something told me I wouldn’t be sketching anytime soon.

“Why not,” Chanyeol asks with a smile, “We’re not scary. We won’t bite!”

“Unless you ask, of course,” Jongdae says, hitting his shoulder into mine. “I’d be happy to fulfill any fantasies you have!” He was dressed in jeans and a tee, but looked effortlessly amazing. He bites his lip, looking over me before giving me a wink. He was a huge flirt, but meaningless words like that didn’t bother me at all.

“Not into cannibalism, thanks,” I say with a fake smile. Lina held back a giggle while the three men erupted into laughter, making the librarian below us shush us, glaring up towards our table. I wave, mouthing an apology to her.

Jongin smiles, “Sehun is right, you really are sassy.” He was in sweatpants and a loose fitting tank top, looking like he was going to go work out soon. He was a bit shyer in comparison to the rest of them, but once he knows someone he apparently is a pretty smooth talker.

“Brave too,” Lina says, “Anytime I say anything like that to Sehun, he practically rips me to shreds with words.”

“Same,” Chanyeol says, nodding as he leaned back in the chair. Jeans, bright tee shirt and red hair. He had headphones around his neck, music thumbing softly from them.

“But please Y/N,” Lina says, clasping her hands together. “I’ll make sure you look good! If you’re worried about your clothes all having paint stains or whatever, you can borrow some of mine!”

“Lina do you really think it’s the clothes that I’m worried about?”

“Point taken,” She nods, “One party won’t tank your grades!”

“I need to have the best grades I can or I lose my scholarship,” I say with a huff. “I don’t have someone paying for my school so I can go just to get mediocre grades, if I want to get anywhere, I need to have good scores.”

“But you want to be an artist,” She says lifting an eyebrow at me.

“That doesn’t make money unless you’re already famous,” I explain. “Which is why I’m taking Literature so I could get a job either writing for a newspaper or editing.”

“That’s true,” Jongin says, leaning against one arm. His brown hair was long, styled back but still going into his face.

I nod, “Exactly!”

“Please,” Lina begs, “Just this one time! I’ll get you that cake you like from that bakery down the street!”

I pause, looking up at her. With a small sigh, I roll my eyes. My one weakness, she’s exploiting my one weakness… my sweet tooth. The cake she’s talking about it a lovely caramel cake that she had for some get together. Then she brought me a slice that I feel in love with. It was caramel cake with a nice caramel between the layers with vanilla bean icing. It was amazing.

She could see my hesitation, so she continued. “You won’t even have to share it,” She says, “It would be all for you! I’ll even get some of those chocolate you like from the chocolate place next door! Please come!”

“If I do,” I say, pointing at her, making them all watch me carefully. “Then YOU are not getting drunk. Or high. I’m not dealing with drunk you. You get annoying and sloppy. Once I go home, you can then, but not before that.”

“Done,” She says, nodding, holding out her hand for me to shake.

“And,” I add, before shaking her hand, “Next time your parents are coming for a visit, you ask someone else to help clean your apartment.”

She pouts, “But you’re literally the only friend I have who would help!”

“Someone. Else.”

“Fine,” She says, giving in.

I grab her hand with mine, shaking it twice. “I expect the cake tomorrow.”

“Nope,” She says with a wicked grin. “You’ll get it AFTER.”

“After all that arguing, you give in because of cake,” Jongdae asks with a laugh.

“Her sweet tooth is her only weakness,” Lina says with a grin, standing. “I think we should give her some time to think and work, since that’s why she was here anyways. She’s too nice to outright tell us to fuck off even though she very clearly wants to.”

“Alright,” Jongin says, standing. “It’s was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Can’t wait to see you Friday,” Chanyeol says, “I’ll make sure we have a lot of desserts and candies!”

“Or anything else you might find sweet,” Jongdae adds with a wink.

“Silence is pretty sweet,” I reply before I could stop myself.

Jongdae grabs at his chest as moves with them, walking backwards. “Brutal. Right through the heart with that one.”

I look at the progress I’ve made so far after two days of deliberating. It was a huge canvas, 36”x48”. It was done in oil paint, or it will be, once I get started. So far it was just a rough sketch. I love doing cityscape or just really weird and abstract things, but my professor told me to try something new for my final, preferably a landscape. With that in mind, I decided on a forest with a lake. I kept getting frustrated, because ‘bright and lively’ isn’t what I’m use to, but I’m enjoying the challenge.

I decided to call it a day, looking at the clock. It’s four PM. I was suppose to go meet Lina since it was Friday. I groaned, pouting the entire drive there. I wanted to just go home and get some sleep since I had to wake up early and run some errands for my job. I’ve been awake since four AM.

“Better have some good food at this party,” I mutter to myself as I knock on her apartment door while trying to ignore my growling stomach. The door flies open, she was grinning as she pulled me in. She had rollers in her hair to make it ‘slightly wavey’ as she called it. Her mouth starts going a mile a minute, picking some paint from my face I didn’t know was there.

“So, I picked two outfits for you, but then I remembered you’d say no to the dress, so I picked some killer skinny jeans. They’re dark blue, few rips, totally in style right now,” She explains, pushing me to her huge makeup and closet room. Yes. Room. Her apartment is a penthouse overlooking the city. It was grand, the walls a nice mellow blue. The floors were a rich hardwood, nice furniture. It was all grand. It even had an outdoor garden and a pool. She lived here alone, her parents live on the other side of town.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I mutter, pouting as she pulled me into her room. She quickly threw close at me, making me change quickly as she worked more on her hair. After putting it on, I glare at her, making her stop before smiling.

“Damn, you look so hot,” She says, glancing over me. It was the skinny jeans, a purple low cut crop top with a black flowy lace overshirt.

I put a hand over my stomach, frowning. “Don’t you think it’s… revealing?” I look down, seeing my breasts on display. Granted they looked good, but it was still mildly uncomfortable.

“Compared to what I’ve seen others swear? To what I’ve worn? Hell no.” She pulls me to sit in front of her as I look at what she’s wearing. She too wore jeans, though they were black with a dark blue top. It hung low, showing off her cleavage as tied at the back and neck, showing off her back as well. Compared to her I wasn’t showing a lot, but I still felt uncomfortable.

“Can I at least have my hoodie,” I ask as she gets out some makeup to do my face.

“No,” She says, “If you get cold, ask a guy for his jacket. He wouldn’t tell you no!”

I frown as she continues on, taking my hair down before putting it up into a high ponytail, leaving my bangs down. “I won’t put a lot on. Just eye makeup and lipstick.” After she was done, I look at myself. Black eyeliner making my eyes stand out and my lips a dark berry color. I glance over at her she she added the last finishing touches as she places a pair of purple flats in front of me. I slip them on, sighing before letting myself get dragged out of the apartment by Lina.

“So since it’s a party with only their closest friends, it’s at the place they usually hang out,” She explains as we drive there. “You know those storage facilities? With those huge locker things that people put things they don’t have room for? Well, they bought one of those buildings and did some adjustments, making it into a two story party and hangout place. They’re the only ones with keys. The first floor is completely open, a few columns still scattered about. Though, most of the second story are just… well, still in separate rooms for private matters.”

“That’s unsanitary,” I mutter, popping a chocolate she got me into my mouth as my stomach continues to roar.

“They hire people to clean it, obviously!” She says with a smile as her fingers tap against the wheel in excitement. “Who knows, you might even get lucky tonight!”

“Do you mean get lucky as in I find a lamp with a genie that gives me three wishes or lucky as in have sex? If you mean the second one, no thanks.”

“Come on, Y/N! It isn’t like you haven’t done it before,” She says, turning and driving away from the city.

“Yes, with someone I was dating who dumped me and left town,” I reply, a small pout on my lips. “That was half a year ago. Not exactly over it.”

“I’m telling you, if you get with one of them, they will make it worth your while.” She says, a smirk on her face.

“What, have you screwed them all,” I ask, biting into another chocolate.

“Did you not eat,” She asks as my stomach growls and I shake my head no. She frowns as she’s looking over before glancing back at the road. “Most of them, yes. The only two I haven’t are Junmyeon and Sehun. Sehun is more like an annoying brother and I’m not into incest. A hot, annoying brother but the idea of banging him just makes me feel weird. Junmyeon flirts with me, but he doesn’t let himself get as wild as the others. Which sucks, because his nice and thoughtful exterior is soft and sweet but the man is ripped and fine as hell! I’ve heard rumors and they say the quiet ones are usually the freakiest!”

“Congratulations.”

She sends me a side eyed glare,“Do I hear you judging me?”

“Honestly? No,” I say, leaning back in the seat and resting my head against the window. “I don’t care if you literally sleep with everyone in the school. I don’t care if anyone else does it, either. What you and everyone else does with someone else and it’s consensual is not my business. I just want you to do so safely… and I just don’t want them to hurt you. You’re wonderful and kind and you deserve someone who treats you like the amazing person you are. But you’re more fragile than the front you put off, you know that.”

I see her worried face turn into a smile. “You always worry about me. I’m fine. I promise. And I know I deserve to be treated like a goddess and until I find someone I want to be my bae, I’m going to be treated like a goddess in bed.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that as she continues to grin, her eyes watching the road.

“But, back to the previous conversation. Seriously, though, I’d suggest someone like Yixing or Jongdae if you want something sweet, granted they have their dark sides too that are just so sinfully hot. Especially Yixing, I didn’t know he could be so rough and dirty! If you want it super dirty, Minseok is surprisingly filthy!”

“I‘m not going to have sex tonight,” I say with a pout, “I’m here to eat all their food, complain to you all night, and then go home.”

“Come on, Y/N, everyone has to let loose and have someone just fuck them silly once in awhile.” She says, looking over a time quickly. “They don’t tell anyone about it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Get to know them better and give it a go, life is too short!”

“I’ll think about it,” I mutter, since it has been a long time since I’ve had that kind of fun. Or any, really. She smiles at me as I said that. “But it definitely wouldn’t be happening tonight!”

It didn’t take long for us to get there. The music could be heard outside, though it was pretty chill and mellow. The building on the outside was in the middle of nowhere. The walls were cement bricks, some graffiti on the outside. Lina opened the door, letting me in as the music became clear. As I followed Lina, I wave my hand, trying to get smoke away from my face.

“Holy shit, you got her to come,” Jongdae says from his spot in the couch. A girl was in his lap, their lips were swollen from the intense making out they were just doing. The whole lower floor was renovated to be one giant room within all the storage lockers. Rugs and couches were everywhere, one was converted into a small kitchen where people were grabbing drinks in plastic cups. There were string lights and a radio as I watched someone pass around a bong, people smoking from them and some of them taking small, colorful pills.

I decided in that moment that Lina owed me another cake.

Jongin, who was in the kitchen, came back with drinks that he handed to us. I immediately poured it all into Lina’s cup before tossing the cup into the trash to my left. That made Junmyeon laugh, who was handing a bottle of water to Chanyeol and another girl who looked as high as kites right now.

“Not in the partying mood,” He asked, looking so good in jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was out of his face which made him look extremely handsome.

“It is me we’re talking about,” I say, turning to Lina, “TWO cakes.”

She smiles, grinning as a boy and a girl I didn’t recognise go off to find the stairs.

“If you make a mess, shut the damn door,” Sehun calls out from his place on a couch. He was also in jeans and a tee, but his jeans were tight and hugged his legs. “No one wants to find it later!”

A smile came from another boy who I didn’t recognise as he hands me a empty cup, pouring water out of his bottle for me. I nod, “Thank you. Where’s the food?”

“Did you just come here for the food,” a man asks from the kitchen. He leans against one of the many pillars, a smirk on his face. His hair was like this dark purple meets silver color, which is surprising since I know he’s from the south. They don’t like things like that. Their part of the country is bland, very white, black and grey from what I’ve heard. I watch him look me over, biting his lip before looking me in the eyes, giving me a wink. Kim Minseok, son of the Southern duke, eldest one of their little group. He was dressed differently, in dress pants and shirt, the tie he had on was lose, a deep purple color. The sleeves of his shirt was pulled up, making him look oddly casual in his fine clothes.

“Yes,” I answer honestly, before making my way over, making the girl on Jongdae’s lap giggle. Jongdae smirks at her, standing as he takes them both upstairs. Yixing was on a couch, his eyes closed as he naps. He looked peaceful in all this noise. Junmyeon was being a mother hen, though sipping from a glass of alcohol as well. Sehun was watching me as a girl was trying to chat him up. I see Jongin take Lina’s hand, pulling her to him as she giggles, giving him a pack on the lips. Kyungsoo was currently smiling as he was following Jongdae’s lead, taking a girl upstairs as well, both of them looking pretty hammered. Baekhyun was in the middle of taking a hit with Chanyeol as they both were smiling and laughing their asses off with another girl who shared my math class. Minseok’s eyes followed me as I got to the kitchen, getting a slice of pizza and starting to eat it.

“Most women go for the salad,” He comments, just watching as he picks up a strawberry, biting into it.

“Most women care about their looks,” I comments, taking a huge bite of pizza. I stop, taking a sip from my water, “Besides, I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Too busy,” He asks, sitting across from me. He was handsome, sure, but being from the South, they’re very manipulative people. They could convince you your eyes were not working right and that the sky actually way green if they wanted to. They’re known for literally talking you into anything before you even realized you’ve changed your mind. His eyes were red too, pupils wide as he smiled. Seemed like he was on something, but not weed.

“You high,” I ask, glancing up at his face. He, like all of them, was extremely handsome. His face had a childlike look to it, even though he was the eldest.

“Ecstasy,” He admits, with a smile. “I don’t take it often. Only my second time ever, actually. I just needed something to take the edge off of the pressure. Finals coming up soon and all. That and you’d be surprised how fucking awful it is living in the South and then coming here, experiencing freedom for the first time knowing you’ll have to give it all up.” He admits with a smile. “Nothing could bother me right now. I feel like everything is happy and right with the world. But, back to you. Are you too busy to eat? Because it’s not healthy to skip meals.”

“Worked on a final project all day,” I say, quickly finishing off a piece of pizza. A girl who was skinny comes in, getting another drink. She glances over, seeing me at the party for the first time. Her hair was black, cut into a bob. Her eyes were light blue as they narrow at me. “What are you doing here,” she asks, as I could see the metal of her tongue piercing when she spoke.

This made Minseok’s eyes narrow, “She’s Lina’s best friend, Jihae.”

She shrugs, as if that answer didn’t explain anything. She glares at me as I pick up another piece of pizza, “How are you not worried of getting fatter?”

I could feel myself get annoyed. ‘Fatter’? Meaning she already thought I was fat. I roll my eyes, “Because I actually exercise instead of just run my mouth all the time. How are you worried about not getting bitchier? Is it because you’re at your peak?” I take a bite of pizza, smiling at her glaring at me. Minseok bites his lip to keep from laughing at the comment, which made me smile. The man she was with takes my cup of water, giving me more as the cup was mostly as I smile “Thank you.”

“No problem,” He says with a grin, before leaving the room, glancing at Jihae.

The girl, Jihae glares at him before turning. “You might want to exercise more then, honey.”

“I will, the second you stop being a waste of oxygen,” I call with a sarcastically sweet voice back as Lina, Jongin and Sehun all enter the room.

“Damn,” Minseok says, with an impressed face. “Normally Jihae pretty much runs most new people off in the first two seconds of meeting her.”

“Jihae needs to stop acting like a bitch,” Lina says loudly, calling over her shoulder to make a point of being heard. She then smiles at me, “She’s kind of use to it. A lot of people act school treat her that way.”

Jongin frowns, reaching for some pizza. “Why is that,” He asks, hoping to sit on the counter.

“Most rich people look down onto people who aren’t rich,” I explain, drinking some more of my water.

Sehun’s eyes followed Jihae as she walked away, “Which is hypocritical given that her father’s company just filed for bankruptcy…”

I frown, “That’s sad.”

“She was just a huge bitch to you, how is that sad,” Sehun asks, looking back at me. He was giving me a look of confusion.

“Well, if something doesn’t change a lot of people who work there are going to lose their jobs,” I explain. “Do you all not really think of that? Or do you focus only on the rich heads of the companies?”

“Guilty,” Jongin says, raising a hand as Lina reached over, pulling my hand away from me before leaning over and taking a bite of my pizza slice. She does this when she doesn’t want to eat a whole slice, but wants just a little bit.

I shrug, continuing to eat as I watch some people return from upstairs. Hair disheveled, clothes being straightened, smiles being shared. The music was still loud as Baekhyun and Chanyeol stroll in, taking one of the boxes of pizza to themselves.

“Munchies,” Lina asks with a grin.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Baekhyun says, grinning as his eyes were a bit bloodshot. Chanyeol stumbled a bit, making Junmyeon come over, holding him steady. The heir to the throne muttered at them both to be careful, looking at them with watchful eyes as they continue on their way it sit down with their food.

While they are, well, degenerates, it’s oddly nice seeing how much they take care of one another.

“Is this your third piece of pizza,” Lina asks, looking at me.

“Yes,” I explain nodding, “I haven’t eaten at all today. I’m starving.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t get lost in your own world at the studio,” She says, leaning against the counter.

“Studio,” Minseok asks, looking at me.

“Studio art,” I say, “My passion.”

“Literally a ‘starving artist’,” Sehun says, sitting down next to Minseok.

“I’m already a ‘starving university student’ so I’m already prepared really,” I joke, though I notice Lina give me a look. I swallow down some water, finishing my cup. The air in here was getting warm.

Soon, Yixing stumbled in, his eyes heavy with sleep. “Hungry,” He says, reaching over Sehun and getting some pizza.

Sehun smiles genuinely at his older brother. “Every time you smoke you always end up sleepy. You still high?”

“Nope,” Yixing says, “Been asleep for a few hours, yeah?” He looks up, seeing me. He blinks, squinting a bit. “Or maybe I am…”

Lina laughs, “Y/N is actually here. I bribed her.”

“With money,” Sehun asks, looking at me. There was a judgmental air about him after he said that. It made me frown, upset that someone would think that way about me.

“With cake,” Lina says with a laugh, “Y/N has one ultimate weakness, and it’s her love of all things sweet.”

“I can be pretty sweet,” Minseok says with a sly grin.

“I’m suddenly diabetic,” I exclaim, making Jongin, Lina and Yixing laugh out, and a smirk appear on Sehun’s face.

Minseok smiles, “I like you. And not just in the ‘I want to fuck you’ way, though,” He says, glancing at me again “that is also factual. You’re funny, but kind. You remind me of Junmyeon a bit, actually.” I liked that Minseok didn’t beat around the bush and just spoke what he thinks immediately. That is the complete opposite of people normally from the South.

“Really,” I ask, reaching over and grabbing a bottle of water. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I suddenly felt very hot, my hands getting clammy.

“Sometimes we call him Mom,” Jongin says, finishing up the pizza he had. “It started as a joke but then kind of stuck.”

The conversation kept going for a few more minutes. It was actually fairly enjoyable. As time went on, I felt odd and really warm, telling everyone I was going outside to cool off. I was thankful no one followed me as I leaned against the wall, becoming dizzy. I don’t remember feeling this way from hunger before, something was wrong.

I turn, looking as the door opened and out comes the man that was with Jihae. He smirks, “You know, I don’t appreciate when someone talks to my girlfriend like that.”

“I don’t appreciate when people are asshole either, but that doesn’t stop anything,” I reply, turning trying to walk away, leaning against the wall for support. The world was spinning and I could feel my heart rate pick up.

“Such an idiot,” the man says, grinning. His hair was brown, and the eyes that were a kind golden color now seemed mean. “You’re not suppose to take drinks from strangers, little girl. You never know what they put in it.”

Those words and the feeling of horror chilled my bones as I could feel him place his hands on my shoulders. His mean gaze was the last thing I remembered before everything went dark.

#exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo imagine #exo fanfic

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pandaro-p · 8 years ago

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Stolen from @nadine-the-pnk She said that everyone can do this meme if they want, so here I am! Rules: Tag 20 amazing followers you want to get know better! Name: Alina Nicknames: Lina, art names - ColorettaW, pandaro-p and pirran Gender: female Star Sign: capricorn Height: 160 cm Sexual Orientation: asexual panromantic Hogwarts House: Slytherin Favorite Color: purple and green Favorite Animal(s): rabbits, sheeps, snakes, sharks Average Hours of sleep: 4-6 in weekdays, 8-10 in weekends Cat or dog person: cat Favorite Fictional Characters: PREPARE FOR A HUGE LIST! Kizana Sunobu, Megami Saikou, Osana Najimi (Yandere Simulator), Gellert Grindelwald, Hermione Granger (Harry Potter), Lapis Lazuli (Steven Universe), Zim, Gaz (Invader Zim), Wheatley (Portal 2), Wilson (Don't Starve), The Lodger (Knock-Knock), Bloody Marie, Peacock, Filia, Squigly, Double (Skullgirls), Henry Jekyll (Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), Alice Liddel (American McGee's Alice/Alice: Madness Returns), Tsumuri, Ico, Scor (Poison Bugs), Kyoko Kirigiri, Celestia Ludenberg, Junko Enoshima, Byakuya Togami (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc), Chiaki Nanami, Ibuki Mioda, Gundham Tanaka, Hiyoko Saionji, Sonia Nevermind, Peko Pekoyama (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair), Monaca Towa, Kotoko Utsugi (Danganronpa AE), Kirumi Tojo, Maki Harukawa, Miu Iruma, Himiko Yumeno, Kokichi Oma, Kiibo (Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony), Randall Boggs, Mike Wazowski, Sonia Lewis, Heather Olson, Celia Mae (Monsters, Inc. / Monsters University), Tulip, One-One (Infinity Train), Ren Hoek (The Ren and Stimpy Show), Rango, Beans, Rattlesnake Jake (Rango), Disgust, Anger (Inside Out), Ayumi Shinozaki, Seiko Shinohara (Corpse Party) Number of blankets I sleep with: 1 Favorite Singer/Band: FAKE TYPE, Mindless Self Indulgence, Marilyn Manson, Melanie Martinez, The Candy Spooky Theater, Gorillaz, Twenty One Pilots, Hans Zimmer (also songs from musicals are rad) Dream Trip: Trip to Japan Dream Job: Game/Character Designer When was this blog created: around 2014-2015 Current number of followers: 473 When did your blog reach its peak?: in the end of 2016 What made you decide to make a Tumblr?: it was an ask-blog for my MLP OC in past (guilty past), then I changed it to art-blog Tagged: everyone who wants to do this

#about me #personal stuff #meme

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linafication · 4 years ago

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thanks for tagging me arthur! (and loolin too!)

url: my name is lina. bean vaguely sounds like lina. linabean was already taken so I went with linabeanart because I do art :D my tally hall blog’s url is natural-ketchup, with obvious origins.

favorite color: blue or orange or yellow!!! i can’t really make up my mind but those were the colors I thought of first!

five people who make me smile: @askcharlottewalters, @diemydear, @hollipolliyozza, @iamthemakerofbarrels, and @k-popmultistan :D

Starting a new tag game!

This one is complicated, but I hope you like it! If you get tagged, reblog with the meaning/origin of your url, your favorite color, and tag at least 5 people who put something on your dash that made you smile. Not just followers or mutuals, anybody that posted something that ended up on your dash. I’ll start.

URL: tribblemakingalicorn. I joined tumblr for Star Trek (Tribble) and KOTLC (alicorn). I’m also a troublemaker, so tribblemakingalicorn!

Favorite Color: Currently its any shade of teal to indigo. I’m partial to periwinkle.

Five people who made me smile today: @tikkunolamorgtfo @enbies-and-felonies @im-a-blood-sokka-for-you @make-kotlc-gayer @rowark

#tag game #cas & arthur & loolin you all make me smile too!!!

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the-lina-project · 6 years ago

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Lina’s Legacy

Lina’s granddaughters: Kathleen, Natalie, Michelle, Tonya, Dominique, 2018.

“The Basque Girls”

Written by Michelle

One hundred and two years ago, Lina Bidegain stepped off a Great Northern Train onto the Glasgow, Montana depot platform, a newly arrived Basque immigrant from the French Pyrenees. Lina was met at the station by her employer, John Etchart, and they traveled thirty-five miles by horse and wagon on primitive roads across sprawling prairie wilderness to the Stone House Ranch. There she worked side-by side with his wife, Catherine, cooking for Basque sheep herders and helping care for the Etchart’s small children, Ferne and Gene.

These experiences became wonderful stories told to her grandchildren. We could practically feel the icy air, see the sheep on the hillside, and smell her soup cooking.

In June 2018, we, Lina’s five American granddaughters, also made a train journey, traveling by Amtrak from Whitefish to Glasgow, stepping out into her footsteps at the very same depot. We met the Etchart family, decendents of John and Catherine, and traveled across rangeland, coolies and gulches in pickup trucks to visit the Stone House.

Rita Etchart Gallagher refers to us as the Basque Girls; it is a name we embrace.

Glasgow From the station, we walked two-blocks to our hotel in the heart of downtown Glasgow. The Rundle Suites building was constructed in 1915, the year before Lina arrived. It is currently being renovated by Jon and Rebecca Johnston and their family into a modern boutique hotel.

Glasgow is today, as it was in Lina‘s time, a small town. Established in 1887 to support the railroad industry and the ranching business, its current population is about 3,500. On the main street you will find wonderful small businesses: The Loaded Toad Coffee, Western Drug, Wheatgrass Arts and Gallery, Soma-Dis Deli. And just a few blocks away, the Busted Knuckle Brewery.

The Etchart family soon arrived to meet us. Paul and Rita, grandchildren of John and Catherine, hosted a pizza dinner in Paul’s home. We had the opportunity to meet other Etchart family members: Paul & Barbara, Rita and Mitch Gallagher, Matt Page and Emma, his father Steve Page. We also met Bengochea family members: Marlene Bengochea, her daughter Denise Bengochea Winchester, her son Jon and his wife Erika. The Bengocheas, like the Bidegains, worked on the Stone House Ranch.

The star of the gathering, however, was Mitch Etchart, ninety-six years old.

Mitch Etchart is the last living child of John and Catherine, younger brother to Ferne and Gene whom our grandmother cared for. He was born in Glasgow in 1920 not long after she returned to the Pyrenees. Mitch is the family patriarch and a good story teller with a wonderful sense of humor.

Bottom row: Mitch, Dominique, Natalie, Kathleen, Natalie, Erika, Barbara. Top row; Denise, Rita, Michelle, Tonya.

Across the Prairie

The following morning, we loaded into two pickup trucks. Our guides: Paul Etchart and 16 -year old Emma Page in one truck, Matt Page and Rita in the second. Matt is the great grandson of John Etchart and currently works on the ranch. Denise Bengochea Winchester came along as well.

The Stone House is located at the head of Willow Creek. This South Ranch was John Etchart’s first land holding, established in 1911. The family lived on the property and worked the ranch until the 1920′s when they moved to Tampico. The South Ranch and Tampico River Ranch were leased to Page-Whitham Land and Cattle in 1983. It was a ten year lease with purchase in 1993. Steve Page is married to Michele, an Etchart granddaughter.

We headed out a gravel road, winding through a labyrinth of rolling grassland dotted with sage and yucca, furrowed coulees, pools of water, rounded hilltops and stands of cottonwoods. In the distance, layers of mountains: the far-off shadowy peaks of the Little Rockies, the distant deep brown of the Larb Hills, and the closer green rise of Square Creek. We saw herds of antelopes and clusters of cattle. On hill tops stood piles of flat stones called Sheep Herder Monuments that served as guide posts in the days before GPS.

After an hour of driving we came over a rise and, in the distance, against a backdrop of cottonwoods along the Willow Creek, the Stone House and barn sat in a small valley of sloping hills.

The Stone House The pickup trucks wound down the dirt road, through the corral gate, past the barn, and parked on the hill next to the house.

In 1914, when the Etcharts decided to make Montana their permanent home, John commissioned the building of a new house for his bride. The house and barn would be built of stone in a style reminiscent of the Basque bassaris (farms) in the French Pyrenees. Two German stonemasons cut sandrock from the surrounding hillsides and hauled it by wagon to the ranch. The hip roof was made of cedar shingles. Wooden porches were added to shield the front and back entrances from the cold. In a landscape of log cabins, sod houses and wooden barns, the Etchart ranch was uniquely beautiful.

Lina and Catherine would have pumped water from a well built over a natural spring located in the cottonwood grove on the banks of Willow Creek. The ranch residents used an outhouse and maintained a stack of fire wood for the kitchen range. Catherine would have planted a garden near the house to grow vegetables: tomatoes, onions, beans, potatoes… Nearby outbuildings may have housed chicken coops and a pig sty.

Today the house has running water from tanks, propane for cooking and heating, electricity from a generator and a modern composition shingle roof. Cowboys working the Page-Whitham range use the building as a bunk house.

We entered through the small back porch. On the first floor, a long kitchen runs the length of one side of the house.

In Lina’s day, a wood burning cast iron stove and a long table with seating for sheep herders would have filled the space. Cooking equipment would have been stored on open shelving or hung from hooks.

A narrow staircase leads down to the basement, stone walls and a dirt floor. Here they would have stored baskets of potato and onions, bags of flour and oats, sides of cured pork.

Two bedrooms take up the other side of the first floor, a larger front bedroom for John and Catherine, a second smaller room in the back corner for Lina. They might have been furnished with wrought iron bedsteads, wash stands, dressers or chests for storage, lanterns, quilts and a baby cradle.

Today, the larger bedroom has a closet and the smaller room has been converted to a bathroom with a toilet and shower.

Windows on all sides of the house provide natural light and views of the ranch and surrounding hillsides.

View from Lina’s bedroom

Wooden stairs lead up to two large rooms built under the roof slope. Here the Basque herders bunked during the seasons when they were not trailing sheep on the hillsides. As many as 8 to 10 herders could have worked on the ranch, helping with breeding, lambing, docking, and sheering.

They would have slept on cots and owned a minimum of personal items. In their free time, perhaps they smoked cigarettes and played the card game Mus or challenged each other to contests of strength throwing iron bars or sacks of grain.

The Barn It is a short walk out the front porch, down the hill, past the coulee pond, to the barn gate.

The barn has stone walls and an upper story of wood. It is surrounded by wooden corral fencing.

In those early ranch days, the barn would have housed horses needed for transportation and ranch work. Catherine also kept cows for milk, cream and cheese, just as her family had done in Les Aldudes. It stored their buggy and wagon, as well as farm tools: axes, saws and hammers, and milk cans

Today the barn has an almost museum feel, the empty stalls house an old sheep herders wagon, a collection of old horse shoes, ropes, saddles and bridles.

We wandered the ranch buildings, strolled the corral and coulee pond, wondered where the well and garden may have been. Our eyes surveyed the cottonwood trees and hillsides. We pictured flocks of grazing sheep watched over by Basque herders, Lina’s brother Antonio among them.

Rita’s picture of the Stone House gang.

We tried to imagine Lina and Catherine, two beautiful, young Basque women in long skirts and button-up boots, going about their busy day cooking, gardening washing clothes, Ferne and Gene playing nearby.

Their footprints were almost visible.

A last view of the Stone House ranch.

Many thanks to the generosity of the Etchart family for making this visit to the Stone House possible. Thanks to Paul Etchart for his wealth of information and to Rita, a perfect hostess. Thanks to Denise for sharing her own family history of living in the Stone House. Thanks also to Matt, an excellent guide, who shared childhood memories of the ranch. And to Emma, our favorite cowgirl!

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painterlegendx · 5 years ago

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Ten Top Risks Of Attending Abstract Painting 6 - Abstract Painting 6

What a year it was for women artists — unprecedented, glorious, diverse. In New York, the Kenyan-American Wangechi Mutu’s aerial caryatids currently advanced the Metropolitan Museum. In Shanghai, the Colombian Doris Salcedo won the countdown $1m Nomura Art Award, the world’s better art prize. In London no appearance compared, for memories of colour punching the eye, with the magentas, bounce greens and cutting dejection of Lee Krasner’s abstruse paintings at the Barbican: a blissful revelation. Dora Maar’s photomontages and Nan Goldin’s photo account “The Ballad of Animal Dependency” at Tate Modern, Cindy Sherman’s character puzzles at the Civic Portrait Gallery, bless women as dogged antecedents in photography.

6 Abstract Paintings/Stories | ido art karen robinson - abstract painting 2010 | abstract painting 2010 “Why accept there been no abundant women artists?” Linda Nochlin asked provocatively in 1971. Half a aeon later, the assize is actuality prised open. In April, the Civic Gallery’s Artemisia will be the aboriginal UK appearance of the Renaissance painter (and abduction victim) Artemisia Gentileschi. In the vengefully ablaze “Judith Beheading Holofernes”, Gentileschi depicts her aggressor as the Assyrian general, herself as the biblical charlatan slashing his throat: a #MeToo icon. In June, the Royal Academy’s Angelica Kauffman stars a portraitist who fought 18th-century blowing advantage to coin a career that accomplished from Britain to Russia.In museums above the world, the cutting actuation in the 2020s will be added representation of women. Choir that a decade ago were bounded and marginalised are now boilerplate and global. It is an animating archetype shift, but not straightforward. Change is complex; the best art does not necessarily bark the loudest.There are pitfalls back gender is admired over talent: the Civic Portrait Arcade in London’s anemic Pre-Raphaelite Sisters exhibition is a case in point. And those who actuate what art is shown, seen, bought — curators, gallerists, audiences, collectors — accept more deviating demands.The bazaar is adamant on gender. The amount allotment at bargain of art fabricated by women in the aftermost decade? Two per cent. Of the hundred best big-ticket works anytime sold, none is by a woman. In 2018-19, the almanac set for a active blowing artisan was £71m — Jeff Koons’ “Rabbit” — against £9.5m for a woman, Jenny Saville’s nude “Propped”.“Female artists are the bargains of our time,” says banker Iwan Wirth. Lower prices action windows of opportunity, sure, but the economics is brutal. In 2007, Broadway 1602, a Manhattan arcade absorption on alone 1960s-70s names such as the pop painters Evelyne Axell and Marjorie Strider, showed the rarer aptitude of Alina Szapocznikow, a Holocaust survivor and blight dead whose aflame adhesive sculptures harrowingly advertence illness. At Frieze in 2011, Tate bought “Tumour” from the arcade — at a discount. Aftermost year, Broadway 1602 declared bankruptcy.Szapocznikow, its best admirable discovery, is now represented by the able Hauser & Wirth; a London appearance in February promises to be a 2020 highlight. The artist, who co-opted minimalism and pop “to acclaim the ephemeral” admitting accurate materiality, exemplifies an outstanding abstruse aptitude now accomplishing recognition. But the amount is generally borne by beginning spaces disturbing to burrow beginning work.

Daily Art of the Day, Thursday May 6, 6 ORIGINAL .. | abstract painting 2010 A few midsize bartering galleries accept apparent commitment. Victoria Miro’s Mayfair amplitude opens 2020 with an agilely advancing aboriginal UK appearance of the Romanian-American Hedda Sterne’s bendable burghal abstractions, ambiguous automated forms and backward white-on-white drawings, evoking the floaters and flashers bridge her eyes in old age; Sterne died in 2011 age-old 100.The all-around actualization of the acutely old woman artisan is a accurate 21st-century celebration — the luck of analysis advancing with amusing change. Still alive are Carmen Herrera, 104; Etel Adnan, 94; Jagoda Buić, 89. Richard Saltoun’s 2019 Frieze presentation of Buic’s bolt awash out in a day, including a Tate acquisition.But the acumen for this rediscovery of old-age artists is mid-career neglect. Today’s big blank at institutional akin is women in their 50s and 60s. 2019’s anxious abate exhibitions showcased several superb talents who accept lacked above building exposure. At Victoria Miro this winter, we saw painterly chronicles of interiority by the 60-year-old Celia Paul. Earlier in the year, Leicester’s Attenborough Arts Centre had Lucy Jones, 64, assuming angry Fauvist landscapes and cruel-tender self-portraits that almanac what it’s like to alive with bookish palsy. At London’s Bowman Sculpture, Emily Young, 68, is currently announcement mesmerising, unfinished-looking carved bean active that brood on our accord with the Earth, time and ecological change.A arch painter from the hardly adolescent YBA bearing is Cecily Brown, 50, whose feverish, adult canvases reprise and alter abstruse expressionist blowing language, accumulation accepted imagery. Yet back 2005’s bunched affectation at Modern Art Oxford, there has been no building exhibition of her paintings in the UK.Perhaps ironically, the bazaar and clandestine galleries can be saviours for important women artists who abatement below the alarm of today’s identity-and-gender agendas. Brown’s bargain almanac is £4.9m. And booty the top women at bargain in 2018-19: Yayoi Kusama, Joan Mitchell, Louise Bourgeois, Georgia O’Keeffe and Agnes Martin, in bottomward order.Four accept enjoyed accomplished Tate retrospectives, cartoon out the feminist aspects of their work. But Mitchell, the greatest 20th-century changeable painter, has never had an exhibition at a above European museum.

6 - 'Open Cage', an abstract painting, watercolor on pa .. | abstract painting 2010 Although she battled bigotry throughout her career, Mitchell’s art — an absolute cheeky argot of transience, slippage, gestural abandon — makes no apparent feminist argument, so fails to fit accessible arcade curatorial politics. “When I allocution about love, I don’t beggarly admiring a boyfriend. I beggarly admiring a tree,” the artisan already said. The all-embracing appearance of her “Cypress” and “Two Sunflowers” at Paris’s Fondation Louis Vuitton was admirable and packed.Footfall proves that audiences appetite beauty, characteristic achievement, arresting voices. Tate’s best accepted shows in 2019 were Van Gogh (422,000 visitors), Pierre Bonnard (248,000) and Don McCullin (175,000). By contrast, Dorothea Tanning (115,000) and Natalia Goncharova (89,000) were disappointments. Although Tanning lived long, she alone produced absorbing assignment — crisp, surrealist compositions — for a decade; too abundant of her attendant comprised blowsy, backward semi-abstractions. Goncharova, accessory and derivative, captivated up yet worse at abounding stretch.The ballsy anatomy of the attendant atrociously exposes those artists who did not sustain long, evolving careers — generally women, for amusing reasons.“There are acceptable artists who accept children . . . they are alleged men,” Tracey Emin has said.Tate administrator Maria Balshaw told me: “I don’t strive for shows 50 per cent by women because that’s a feminist gesture, but because we appetite to accredit to the apple we alive in.” That is incontestable, and advantage knows women in art charcoal a assignment in progress. Ernst Gombrich’s The Story of Art, the acknowledged and best affecting art history anytime written, aboriginal appear in 1950 and now in its 16th edition, contains aloof one changeable artist: Käthe Kollwitz.How crazily this sits with today’s institutional shifts, decidedly in the UK. Following new accessories in the aftermost few years, four out of bristles Tate admiral are now women. In bounce 2020, for the aboriginal time all four Tate galleries will host women abandoned shows: Berlin-based Candice Breitz’s video accession about refugees (Tate Liverpool); Zanele Muholi, who photographs South Africa’s LGBTQ association (Tate Modern); Korean accession artisan Haegue Yang, who explores “non-binary aesthetic languages” (Tate St Ives); and the atramentous British allegorical painter Lynette Yiadom-Boakye (Tate Britain).

Abstract Painting | Abstract art, Pink art, Art photography - abstract painting 2010 | abstract painting 2010 Topical themes? Tick. Racial, ual, geographic, media diversity? Tick. But what about the abounding ambit of art, above political and feminist agendas?The Venice Biennale of 2019 embodied these tensions. Magnificently, the alien 35-year-old Lithuanian artisan Lina Lapelyte took the Golden Lion for her lyrical, inclusive, aboriginal achievement accession “Sun and Sea (Marina)” about altitude change, co-created with the administrator Rugile Barzdziukaite and the biographer Vaiva Grainyte. But in an overwhelmingly feminised biennale, abounding civic representations by women were black contest in political correctness. For Britain, Cathy Wilkes offered decrepit dolls, a hectoring eyes of calm austerity; for Austria, Renate Bertelmann presented awkward knifepoint vulva-flowers — 1970s adverse feminism.In Phaidon’s Abundant Women Artists, appear in 2019 in acknowledgment to Nochlin’s catechism and featuring 400 names, editor Rebecca Morrill argues that “greatness is not inherent to art itself”.She suggests that we “let go of any attenuated atypical analogue of greatness . . . embrace every forgotten, disregarded or undervalued artist . . . until equality, above all institutions, has assuredly been reached”.Equality over affection agency mediocrity. Krasner insisted: “I am an artist, not a woman artist.” From Krasner to Lapelyte, the best arresting artists are capricious and charge no appropriate pleading. If in the abutting decades we artlessly appearance the best art — irrespective of gender or character backroom — Nochlin’s catechism will become obsolete.Follow @FTLifeArts on Twitter to acquisition out about our latest belief first. Listen and subscribe to Culture Call, a across chat from the FT, at ft.com/culture-call or on Apple Podcasts

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