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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years

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What do you think about the relationship between Napoleon and Lannes? Were they like best friends or something? I read that when Lannes died Nap was really sad he cried and wasn't in a very good mood even after he returned home

Oh I love their friendship. Love their love. And they were intimately close. Terribly familiar and affectionate with each other (if in a bit of a rough-housey military sort of affectionate). Lannes was Roland to Napoleon’s Charlemagne. Patroclus to Napoleon’s Achilles.

They met as young men during the 1796 Italian Campaign and became fast friends. Both were from more modest backgrounds, both were stiff-necked and hard-headed, both had a military background, and so on. Lannes also fits into Napoleon’s category of “people he loved in part because they were there from the beginning”. Lasting sixteen years (and it would have lasted through to the end I think, had Lannes lived) their relationship was deep, intimate and meaningful to both.

Lannes was one of the few who could tutoyer Napoleon (in private and, more importantly, in public), and did so with great enthusiasm. He’s also one of the few who could publicly oppose/butt heads/insult/be overly familiar with Napoleon and not suffer any real consequences. (e.g. Lannes famously called Napoleon a harlot once in public. To which I am sure we can all hear Napoleon going: Fuck you Lannes. Lannes’ “punishments” when he overstepped the mark were either temporary banishment [it never lasted long] or being sent on diplomatic journeys he didn’t want to go on.)

They were what some would call intimate friends, or romantic friends.

Lannes’ death cut Napoleon to the core in a way that is only matched, I would argue, by Duroc and Josephine. Napoleon was mournful and grief stricken over others, such as Desaix and Chauvet, but not to the same degree or intensity.

(Desaix’s death did prompt that heartbroken line from Napoleon of (roughly) “he always wanted to die in battle but did death have to be so eager to grant him his wish”. Chauvet’s gave us that letter to Josephine where Napoleon says that Chauvet is dead, his ghost whistles through Napoleon’s tent.)

Indeed, in terms of displays of emotion on the battlefield, particularly open weeping and almost inconsolable grief, Lannes is one of the few that garnered such a reaction from Napoleon. (Duroc being another.) Which speaks to their profound relationship and what Lannes meant to Napoleon (and it certainly goes the other way around as well). Napoleon said of Lannes, “Lannes adored me…he was certainly one of the men on whom I could most depend in this world.”

Later on St. Helena: “he [Lannes] clung to me [Napoleon] … for the rest of his life; he wanted only me, thought only of me … Certainly, he loved his wife and children more than me; nevertheless, he never spoke about it because he expected nothing of it; he was the one who protected them, while in turn, I was his protector.” (A sort of military-esque marriage.)

One of my favourite exchanges, which can be summed up as: Presenting you the married couple of Napoleon & Lannes.

You damn Gascon! What the hell were you doing… trying to prove you’re so damn brave when we already know that? No… you were out there risking your men and yourself for no bloody reason! You’d do better to follow your orders from now on. When I want you to get yourself killed I’ll let you know!

– Napoleon to Lannes, after the takeing of Malta, 1798. Cited in The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes

Mostly because you can hear Lannes yelling back: I DO WHAT I WANT YOU STUPID CORSICAN. Also because this is such a “I’m so panicked you almost died I love you and also want to slap you” moment from Napoleon.

Married Couple #2:

There were a few diversions, however, particularly the evening meetings of the savants who would later organize the Institut d’Égypte. Bonaparte took these meetings seriously and made his generals and staff attend. He could not always control such a diverse crowd, however. Several officers were unimpressed and obviously bored with scholarly discussions. A participant claimed Lannes and Junot were the worst behaved, joking with each other and making rude remarks while the savants attempted to educate them. Junot would deliberately mispronounce Lannes’s name as one of his better jokes, calling him l’âne, or ass. Lannes told Bonaparte that nobody could hear the scholars over Junot’s snores rumbling from the back of the crowded gathering. Bonaparte excused Junot from further sessions, but he made Lannes stay, fidgety, bored, with no one to listen his sotto voce comments.

— Margaret S. Chrisawn, The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes.

Junot and Napoleon though, that’s another complicated situation. (It was a mess, a hot, hot mess. Junot was in Love. Napoleon was embarrassed. It got messy and mean.)

A few accounts from Lannes’ death:

As soon as the Emperor saw him, he ran, hastened to him, covered him with kisses. He called to him in the middle of his sobs, and said to him in a muffled voice: ‘Lannes, my friend, do you recognize me? It’s me, it’s the Emperor. It’s Bonaparte, your friend!’ … Napoleon, kneeling before the dying hero, cried hot tears. This most touching meeting, these most tender embraces moved us profoundly … The Emperor’s pain was so intense that none of the witnesses to this scene could ever deny the profound feeling that it inspired.

– Account from Jean-Jacques-Germain Pelet

“My Cousin, the marshal died this morning of wounds he received on the battlefield. My grief is equal to yours. I lose my armies’ most distinguished general, my companion in arms for the last sixteen years, the one I considered my closest friend. His family and his children will always have a particular right to my protection. It’s to assure you of this that I wanted to write you this letter, because I sense that nothing can relieve the true sorrow that you will feel.”

— Letter from Napoleon to the Duchess of Montebello, 31 May 1809.

Following Lannes’s agonizing death on May 31, 1809, Napoleon retreated to his tent where his valet Louis Constant later found the Emperor “seated, immobile, mute, and staring into space, in front of his hastily prepared meal. Napoleon’s eyes were inundated with tears; they multiplied and fell silently into the soup.”

[…]

Napoleon’s grief for Marshal Lannes took on the very public character of open lamentation. Rather than grieve behind closed doors and conceal his personal vulnerabilities in order to show public strength, Napoleon’s mourning for his beloved friend became a matter of great public spectacle. Like Achilles mourning his beloved Patroclus, Napoleon wept publicly and openly expressed his affection in a way that was widely reported, discussed, and admired by the officers and soldiers in his armies.

[…]

Napoleon’s public grief at the death of Jean Lannes represented a new model for social relations between soldiers in the early nineteenth-century France. weeping over his friend’s broken body, Napoleon demonstrated how the revolution and empire had made it possible not only for an emperor to grieve openly for a fallen marshal, but for a soldier to love his comrade. This uncharacteristic expression of affection between Napoleon and Lannes was echoes in similar relationships between officers and foot soldiers in Napoleon’s armies. Military memories of the first empire bear witness to a wide range of intimate relationships among generals, colonels, and captains as well as sergeants, corporals, and grunts (grognards), the infantry soldiers who made up the majority of the imperial armies. Napoleon’s love for Lannes might thus be said to represent a broad spectrum of masculine affection and intimacy in the ranks of the Grande Armée, or what could be called Napoleonic friendship.

- Napoleonic Friendship: Military Fraternity, Intimacy, and Sexuality in Nineteenth-century France

“The Emperor also spoke of the last moments of Marshal Lannes, the valorous Duke of Montebello, so justly called the Roland of the army, who, visited by the Emperor on his deathbed, seemed to forget his own condition and tend to him whom he loved above everything.”

-Las Cases, Memorial of Saint Helena.

Indeed, Napoleon’s friendship and open pain and grief at Lannes’ death is one of those rare moments that allows us to separate the Napoleonic Myth - that enigmatic Emperor who is a repository of collective fears and hopes - and see the man beneath it. And while, as with everything relating to Napoleon, his friendship with Lannes can be either over, or under, stated - I think we can all safely agree that there was love, intimacy, affection and friendship between them and Lannes’ death impacted Napoleon in a way that I’m not sure we can fully appreciate.

Until the end, whenever Lannes was brought up Napoleon would discuss him briefly then quickly move on to other subjects and it’s clear, based on how he is described in those moments (going silent, blinking a lot, looking away), he’s trying not to cry.

#Happy Thursday this was really depressing to write #jean lannes #lannes #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #napoleonic friendship #homoromantic friendship #intimate friendship #19th century

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, JENNA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OLIVIA. Admin Rosey: Jenna, I don’t even know what I can say about this application. You had me slowly falling more and more in love with the Omi that you bring to us, which is perhaps incredibly apt due to the fact that I imagine many fall in love with Omi just the same way. All of us raved about this application and what it brought to the table, careful nuances that just screamed Omi. We’ve been waiting for an Olivia for so long -- a beautiful sparrow -- and you’ve brought them to us and given us more. I can’t wait to see what you do with our beautiful Sparrow! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Jenna

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I would say a solid 6-7/10. I’m currently on break from uni, so I’ll be around pretty much every day. However, once I go back to uni and my workload picks up a bit, I’ll probably only manage to get to replies every 2-3 days (I aim for every 2!), but I’m always around for plotting!

Timezone | gmt+10

How did you find the rp? | In the tags! I’ve been admiring this group for a while now and I’ve honestly had an application for Omi half-written for a few months and finally decided to just go for it.

Current/Past RP Accounts | This is one of my most recent character blogs, unfortunately the group closed recently which is why I’ve stopped writing the character.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Olivia, Yamamoto Omi

What drew you to this character? | Honestly, Omi was not the first character I was drawn to. I was considering applying originally for Hermia or Helena, but I stumbled upon Olivia’s bio while reading up on the lore, and I loved it. I liked that they had such a rich backstory, and one that was very unique within the context of the group. She’s had such tragedy in her life, but instead of it making her softer or making her retreat into herself, it’s made her tougher, and forced her to grow up very quickly and build a life for herself in order to survive. They have been so focused on their next move for so long that they haven’t really had a chance to look back and reflect on whether or not this life is really what they want – sure, being a Sparrow provides them with stability and feelings of control and power that Omi lacked for her whole life, but does it make her happy? That’s where I feel the character is at this point, and it’s a very interesting starting point for writing and character development. Often, I feel like I have a connection with a character, but I struggle to write them – with Omi, her voice came easily and writing up the responses to the IC interview was enjoyable, which I think really speaks volumes!

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

THE MISSED MARK; Omi’s identity very much centres around the work she does at the Dark Lady, and the fact that she is good at said work. They pride themselves on being able to build intimacy and trust with someone without every becoming attached to them, so that she can sell their information off to Mona without ever feeling guilty or wrong about what they are doing. I would love for her to meet someone at the Dark Lady who challenges her in this way, someone she goes after for information, but becomes unexpectedly attached to. This person would ideally share with Omi some information they wouldn’t normally hesitate to share, something that Mona would consider a gold mine. Her decision to either sell this person down the river, or betray Mona would very much tear her up inside, and I’d love to see someone as sure of themselves as Omi grapple with this decision, and the guilt associated with whichever path she chooses. It would very much make them question the work they’re doing at the Dark Lady, and their allegiance to this person and to Mona.

THE OLD CLIENT; I love the idea of exploring Omi’s actions coming back to haunt her. They’re a character who exudes a sort of confidence – they have to, in the line of work that they’re in. I’d love for Omi to be confronted by someone that she’s wronged in the past, in particular, a former client of the Dark Lady who she may have shared information about with Mona, leading to some extreme consequences for the character in question, and, eventually, leading to them wanting some sort of retribution against Omi in particular. She generally tries not to think about clients after she is done with them, tossing them aside and moving onto the next thing, trying to gather as much information about as many people as possible to build herself a vast wealth of knowledge. So, someone confronting Omi about what they have done and seeking some sort of retribution will do two things; it’ll scare them, and it’ll make them really think about what they’re doing. I love the idea of Omi really having to reckon with herself and the life she has built for herself in Verona. She sees herself as powerful… but is she really? Could they have done better, could they have found a better way to live? Is their work really all it’s been chalked up to be, or have they placed their loyalty in the wrong hands? As I’ve mentioned, Omi strikes me as someone very sure of herself, so having to question her own actions is something I would love to see from her.

THE LINE YOU SHOULDN’T CROSS; Omi’s greatest weapons are her words, and she’s very good at using them to get exactly what she wants. Whether it’s information from clients, or a free drink at a bar, or any number of advantages in their life, Omi uses words and their looks to get what they want. Omi hasn’t had to resort to violence very often in her life, and this is what she believes separates her from the people her father worked for, what elevates her to a level above the fighting barbarians in Verona, the fact that she is able to show some semblance of restraint. They keep their hands clean of the fighting, and of the war brewing between the Montagues and Capulets, very deliberately, focusing on their job and their job only. I want to see this resolve tested, whether being swayed to one side or another of the conflict, or needing to use violence to solve a problem. What will Omi do when she is reduced to the level of those in conflict both around her, and in her past? I don’t think they would react well to such guilt, to the compromising of what they believe about themselves.

these are just rough ideas, and honestly there are lots of different directions I can see this character going, many of which will be influenced by the characters she comes to interact with and plots that she becomes involved with!!

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I am definitely open to killing off Omi, though I would love to have a chance to develop her properly before doing this!!

IN DEPTH

IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“The Dark Lady.” They say without hesitation, as though the response were programmed into their mind before the question had even been posed. She shifts in her chair, posture straightening as pearly teeth chew on her red-painted lips - slowly, seductively. Even when they’re not working, Omi’s training doesn’t leave her. She doesn’t need to be at The Dark Lady to extract information - to see the way people squirm as she eyes them, beauty the most powerful weapon they possess - and they only one they need to. “The music, the dark lighting… it’s the sort of place where you don’t know what to expect when you walk in…” She trails off, soft hands finding their way to her hair, fingers twirling through dark locks as she spoke. “It’s a place where I feel in control. People come to see me, they’ll do anything, say anything to me, to please me.” Perhaps they give themselves too much credit, but never has Omi felt more powerful than when she’s working, sitting in the lap of a stranger who thinks to underestimate them, listening to whispered secrets uttered in passion with the capacity to burn cities. “Yes,” She repeats, voice soft and certain, “That’s my favourite place in Verona.”

What does your typical day look like?

“I wake up, I go to work, I come home, and I go to sleep.” A playful smile flits ever so briefly across Omi’s lips, carefully constructed, of course, as all things about her tend to be. “What do you want me to say? To spin tales of fantastical adventures in far-off lands?” She chuckles, light and airy, a sound that has been equated in the past to the soft ringing of a bell, full of light and love, even if the one producing such a sound is nothing of the sort. “I owe Mona everything, you know.” They say softly, a rare moment of sheer candor, one so very rarely seen from Omi these days. Her left hand has settled on the opposite wrist, drawing circles over the skin as they speak, soft and gentle. “So I work. Whenever she needs me. If I don’t? Well, who else will? Nobody else there has quite the same level of… talent that I possess. They can be clumsy, and forgetful. Our clients like me best, and so they should. They trust me.” Another soft laugh escapes their lips, “I’m at my best when I’m there, but I keep myself busy in between. Not all of my suitors are paying customers.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“I don’t tend to make big mistakes, nor dwell on the past.” Omi lies with ease, a smile flitting instantaneously across her face, gone just as quickly as it had come as she thinks, really thinks about the question being posed to her. “I couldn’t pinpoint a single one, you see. I haven’t made any life altering mistakes.. I’m too careful for that.” Or, at least, they liked to think they were. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d confronted my father about what he did for a living… I never questioned him about it. Not really. He knew I knew, he must have, but… we never spoke about it. Perhaps if I had asked him about it, if I’d asked him why, how he’d ended up there in the first place… maybe things would have gone differently. Perhaps I could have convinced him to get out while he still could, we could have left Japan, started a new life as a family. I doubt I would have ended up here… but I doubt things are that simple. If my father had any sort of choice in what he did, he would still be alive, and so would my mother. Perhaps it’s just my mind trying to make sense of things.. overthinking it all.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“The first one.” She says, “My first mark at the Dark Lady. Some Montague boy, I don’t even remember his name. But he was young… naive. If it were now, I’d know exactly what to do, exactly how to get him to spill his secrets. He was about as easy a mark as they come… but I’d never done it before. Mona had explained to me what my role was to be at the Dark Lady… she’d coached me, and I was confident that I could do it. I know that I’m desirable, and I knew exactly the type of person this boy was… but I was nervous.” They laugh, a strange lilting sound, not quite pleasant, but not off-putting, either. “I’m never nervous. But after all the faith Mona had in me, after everything she’d done… I knew I had to do this right. I had to make sure that I did the job, and I did it well, to prove to her, to everyone, that she wasn’t wasting her time on me. I think I got into my own head, which is rare, for me… but I managed to do it. I don’t even remember what he told me, but when I told Mona, she just smiled and said, ‘good work,’. I didn’t see him again, and it got easier after that.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“It doesn’t concern me.” She says, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Though, I wouldn’t so much call it a war. If anything, it’s a contest of egos. Two families each trying to prove to one another that they have the most power. It’s almost petty. Real power doesn’t come from fighting, from guns or from money… real power is knowledge, real power is understanding another person completely. Knowing every crevice of their mind in intimate detail, being able to predict what they’re thinking, what they’ll say… what they’ll do.” They shake their head, “These people, they don’t know war. They don’t know pain. They’re playing at games they think they understand… but they don’t, and I doubt they ever will. The only people who suffer are their pawns, their underlings… there can’t be a winner if they’re not willing to have real stakes.” She sighs again, flicking her hair over her shoulder and adjusting her posture, “But, like I said. It doesn’t concern me.”

Extras: Pretty much everything I have for Omi can be found on her mock blog!! there’s mostly inspo on there, I haven’t had a chance to create any moodboards or playlists yet, but when I do, this is where they’ll go!!

Thank you so much for reading my application, I’ve admired this group from afar for a while, and I would love to get the chance to write Omi & write as part of this group!!

#accepted #accepted: olivia

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momo-de-avis · 5 years

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Do you have any recommendations of female artists (sculptors and painters)? (I went to a museum and now im salty lmao)

Off the top of my mind, I might remember someone else some time soon:

Sonia Delaunay. My girl LIVED and BREATHED art. She was the type to literally, and I mean wholly, surround herself with art to the point of living inside art. She sewed, made costumes for the theater, she made puppets, dolls, quilts, even furniture. She was an incredible, outstanding painter. She is at the centre of Orphism more so than Robert, her husband, who was more of a cubism guy. Now, from what I gather, a lot of what people say about Sonia in other countries is coupled with her husband, as if you can't talk about her without mentioning him. To a degree, that's correct because the two had a really secure partnership. They were both creators, and they pushed each other. It was incredibly inspiring tbh. But Sonia has her own merit, and in Portugal she is actually way more relevant than Robert bc of the influence she had on our modernist circle.

Lee Krasner. If only people sort of forgot she was Pollock's wife. Her method of creating is fascinating to me cause this girl just destroyed her past work completely, but instead of throwing it in the trash, she reused it to create new works. Art historians in the post modernist era weren't too kind to her, but she's being avenged. She's methodical and clearly puts so much thought into her composition her creative process is fascinating.

Julia Margaret Cameron. This woman is one of my favourite artists in the world. Cameron began taking photographs at 42 years old after she moved to the isle of Wight in England. She was gifted a camera by her daughter who just wanted her mother to be a bit less bored, and Cameron went on to create over 3000 astonishing photographs that are at the core of the pictorialist movement. She was also INCREDIBLY well acquainted of her society. I mean, literally every famous victorian person you can think of, she met them. The majority of famous photographs you can think of? She took them. She was very honest about her work too. Its really endearing because Cameron was so concerned about her own honesty in capturing beauty she didn't give a fuck about the actual mechanics, which resulted in a lot of photographers at the time labelling her "an amateur". She also refused to photograph high society folk that weren't her friends, and mostly photographed her maids. It must be said that Alfred Lord Tennyson absolutely DESPISED every single illustration made for his Idylls of the King, so much artists knew they were in for hell if they were commissioned the book's illustrations. Cameron was the only person Tennyson personally asked to illustrated, and he absolutely adored her work.

Hannah Hoch. I love Dada so it couldn't miss. Hannah Hoch was married to uhhhhh... Huesekbeck I think? I keep forgetting. Either way, she was part of the Berlin Dada group, and they gave her hell for being a woman. Yes, it's nothing short of that: they didn't want her to belong because she was a woman. Especially her husband, who she supported throughout his life and then he died and she was like "lmao maybe you should have made good art, my bitch". Hannah Hoch mostly makes collages, and it's incredible. Its a very poignant work about being a woman in post-Weimar Germany and the societal issues Germany faced after World War I.

Claude Cahun. There's a post I made about her going around so I wont prolong myself but essentially, though she used female pronouns throughout her life, she identified herself as androgynous and created an INCREDIBLE set of photographs. She was a surrealist who became the inspiration for Davie Bowie and Andre Breton lauded this woman breathless. She was also arrested for taking part in the resistance against the Nazis and lived her whole life with another woman who was her partner. Her work focuses tremendously on issues of gender and our perception of our own bodies.

Camille Claudel. Infamously, she is known as Rodin's lover. Camille's story is a very tragic one. She was a tremendously talented sculptor who accumulated patrons throughout her life, and though she had an a rough affair with Rodin (and he was a bit of a dick), he did praise her work and tried very hard to preserve her artwork. The issue was Camille's family, who scorned her and shamed her for being an artist and her life choices, and destroyed a lot of her art after sticking her in a mental institution where she died at like, 70. But Camille's work is... Well, it's beautiful. Its the kind of work you can see that conflict between being a woman in her society while desperate to liberate herself. Though she incorporates Rodin's language, she has her own mark, her own hand, and her own language.

Janet Sobel. She is actually the first person to coin, use and employ the technique of dripping. You know, the one Pollock gets all the praise for? Essentially, Janet Sobel was a grandmother by the time she picked up a paintbrush. She was also a ukranian emigrant with little to no english, and she engaged in art at her son's insistence. When her son Sol Sobel brought his mom's artwork to the major New York circles (she lived in New Jersey), she immediately caught the eye of Peggy Guggenheim, who put together a collective exhibition about female abstract expressionist painters. That exhibition was in 1946. Pollock was there, he msde a remark wbout Sobel's work, and in 1947 you have the first Pollock dripping painting. Do with that information what you will (and also, check for photos of how Sobel painted, it's so adorable and it just explains SO MUCH MORE THE CONCEPT OF ACTION PAINTING THAN POLLOCK). Eventualyl, Sobel stopped painting and disappeared, and there are several factors as to why we forgot her: Pollock was the CIA's bad boy, so yeah; she spoke little english (she befriended Marc Chagall and Mark Rothko bc they both spoke russian and they claimed that being with Sobel felt like being back home) and she developed an allergy to oil painting.

Maria Helena Vieira da Silva. We're moving to the french circle here, and yes she is portuguese but she belongs to the french post modernist circle. She's an abstract painter who draws a lot from cityscapes, and I think it's worth taking a look at her work.

Niki de Saint Phalle. Now Niki is incredible. She's mostly known for her Nanas, which are immense outdoors sculptures of women with thick bodies, defying the notion of slenderness imposed by fashion magazines that prevailed in the 50s. She also engages with her own trauma of sexual abuse and explores the notion of sexuality a lot, as well as women's bodies outside the realm of sexuality. At a given point, she collaborated with Jean Tingely a lot so she made a series of kinetic sculptures too.

Martha Rosler. I know you said painting and sculpture and I've already talked about collage lmao but Martha Rosler belongs to the first wave of feminist art and those mostly concern video art, though Rosler is very well known for her collages Bringing the War Home in which she literally brings the Vietnam war home. It's worth looking at her work.

Ana Mendieta. Another tragic story. Ana Mendieta was incredibly worried about the notion of the female body as perceived outside the realm of something sexual and nature. She works a lot with perishable material, works of art that are organic, that is, that will disappear with time. One of her most well known methods is leaving an imprint of her own body on natural surfaces, like a beach, or a field of grass, and then photographing it. Ironically, that was exactly how she died: she fell off I believe it was a 10th floor and onto the hood if a car. There is still speculation about it and everything points towards there having been a fight between her and her partner at the time, Carl Andre, who neighbours believe pushed her out the window. Carl Andre never saw justice and Ana Mendieta died at like 25 years old and at the prime of her career.

Kara Walker. She's a pretty young artist who's creating artworks as we speak and she confronts the notion of blackness with US history so blatantly it becomes monumental. She also makes large scale works to defy this message. If you ask me, she's one of the best artists living today.

Hilma af Klimt. She was a Swedish abstractionist and surrealist who was really focused on the occult, and made monumental paintings that engaged with things like the human psyche.

Lizzie Siddal. Now, Lizzie is better known as the Pre-Raphaelite muse, immortalised in Millais' famous Ophelia, but she was an artist of her own. And not just any artist. John Ruskin tutored her and praised her. In fact, he considered her biggest flaw being her love affair with Rossetti lmao she is very naive and honest about her work, and I would also recommend taking a look at her poetry.

Eleonor Fortescue-Brickdale. I know very little about her, but she was a post pre-raphaelite illustrator who, and this is just me, follows the trend of Julia Margaret Cameron. Her paintings are beautiful and seriously, look at both their work and try to see the similarities hah

Helen Frankenthaler and Joan Mitchell, two abstract expressionists who developed their own mode of painting and who border the Colour Field Painting (think Rothko).

Tamara de Lempicka. She's the glamour gal. She makes paintings about the glamorous life of high society and is very interesting because she depicts female nudes in a very intimate way. If I am not mistaken, Tamara de Lempicka had relationships with women, so that tells you a lot. She's very cubist in technique, more so than style.

Faith Ringgold. Oh my God, Faith Ringgold is fantastic. She is a black american woman who paints about the experience of being a black woman, but not just paint. She's best known for her Tar Beaches series, which as quilts she stitches while telling the story of a little girl who dreams about a world while spending time on her tar beach, which is the rooftops of the buildings in Harlem. Please do check her work, she is fantastic.

I'll leave well known names out because they are easy to search like Frida Kahlo, Artemisa Gentilleschi, Josefa d'Obidos, Sofonisba Anguissola (these three are located in the late renaissance period, so there's a lot of portraits, religious themes and still life), Mary Cassat, Berthe Morisot (both impressionists who focus on private female themes), Rosa Bonheur (naturalist who makes landscapes mostly), Evelyn de Morgan (post pre-raphaelite). Also check Zinaida Serebriakova, Georgia O'Keeffe, Lavinia Fontana, Louise Bourgeois, Angelika Kauffmann, Elisabetta Sirani, Romaine Brooks, Sophie Tauber-Arp, Varvara Stepanova, Paula Rego, Bridget Riley, Leonora Carrington, Vigée le Brun, Yayoi Kusama, Francesca Woodman. Etc. These are like .. top of my head with a quick google search to make sure I wrote the names right haha

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aconitemare · 5 years

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[jaydick] to all the (D)icks i’ve loved before

JayDick during the famous (first) field scene from To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.

Read it on AO3.

“Are you really going to audition?” Roy asks. He’s got a sheen of sweat across his forehead that’s probably more due to the heat than the exertion on the track field.

“Maybe,” Jason answers. He does actually, one-hundred percent, but he doesn’t feel comfortable sounding committal. “Why not,” he says instead without making it sound like a genuine question. It isn’t.

Roy knows it’s not a question but caring is neither of their strong suits, so he presses. “I dunno’. Doesn’t really seem like you, I guess. Don’t get me wrong,” he switches. His hand reaches out to touch Jason’s shoulder, but it’s been almost an hour of gym outside and his hand misses the mark as they maintain pace. “You’ve got the drama down pat,” he quips. Jason sends him a glare but Roy just snickers. “Maybe, like, if this was Phantom of the Opera-type shit, I’d be like, yeah, that’s you, and I’d be there in the front row telling everyone that the disfigured creep under the basement was my dude, but. A high school performance of Footloose though? That’s some cheesy shit.”

Jason shrugs. Roy isn’t entirely wrong. Jason would’ve joined the drama club last year except their big show was Shrek the Musical. He was tempted to sign up anyway because it’s not like anyone would see a tech on stage, but he really didn’t want to be associated with something that was bound to suck hard. Footloose was comparatively better. He could work with that story.

“You can still sit front row and tell everyone I’m the guy moving props off the stage,” Jason replied.

“Oh, what?” Roy says with his nose scrunching. “You’re not even going to be an actor? Fuck that noise, you should be that dude who fucks the pastor’s daughter.”

“You want me to be Ren McCormack,” Jason supplies.

“Whichever, man; you could tell me the character was named Rhino McJackoff and I’d have to go along with you.”

“Fair enough,” Jason retorts. One of their gym instructors holds out two popsicle sticks as they pass. Roy grabs them both and hands one to Jason. They get a good distance between them and the teacher before they start speaking again because neither are good at censoring their language. Roy has just asked him about Red Dead Redemption 2 when Jason hears his name being shouted.

“Jason! Jason!” Jason turns around to see Dick Grayson jogging towards them. He’s wearing the school’s proper gymnasium uniform, unlike Roy and Jason who both got points deducted for bringing normal gym clothes. GCHS is embroidered in the corner is tiny white lettering. If Dick were to turn around, a cartoonish owl would blink stare hollowly at them.

Neither Jason nor Roy slow their pace so Dick is forced to catch up after he’s caught their attention and maintain speed. “Sup, Dick,” Roy greets, making room for Dick to insert himself between them. This close up, Jason can smell Dick’s shampoo. It’s lighter than he expected, more fresh than spiced like Jason’s cologne.

Dick smiles at Roy and shakes his shoulder. He definitely showed up late to class. Jason knows this not just because he isn’t sweaty like everyone is, but because he missed him during the warm-up. Jason hasn’t liked Dick like that since middle school, but he can admit to himself that he still watches him. He doesn’t think that’s weird or anything because everyone watches Dick — most of all during gym.

“Where’ve you been?” Roy asks easily. Meanwhile, Jason subtly runs a bit farther to the left so he’s not inhaling Dick’s scent with every heavy breath.

“Nurse’s office,” Dick says with a bright grin. “I got into a bit of fender bender this morning. Security guard saw me parking with my bumper torn off and insisted I check in with the nurses while they ratted me out to Bruce.”

Jason remembers Bruce rather well considering he’s only met him once. It was during a birthday party at Wayne Manor for Dick’s younger brother Tim. Bruce was an imposing man who now looms over Jason’s memory of that night. Jason can well imagine Dick crashing his fancy car daddy’s money bought him. Jealousy, not sympathy, clouds Jason’s mood as Roy talks about that sounds rough. Jason hopes he doesn’t mean it so they can talk shit later. But Roy and Dick actually do get along, so he’s probably for real.

“That sucks, Dick, especially on top of stuff with Helena,” Roy seems to commiserate. Jason’s attention perks up here. Helena is Dick’s girlfriend. She’s not the worst person Jason’s ever met, but she’s pretty freaking terrible. They used to be friends in middle school to the point there were rumors about them getting together. Then came the day Helena leaned forward, lashes brushing her cheeks as her lips puckered, and Jason didn’t think, he just confessed. Within a week, Helena had excommunicated Jason from every social circle she touched. Within a week, Jason had to watch his ex-best friend holding hands with the boy he dreamt about.

Helena and Dick had been on-and-off since the advent of high school. Clearly they are off now. Even though Jason holds no hopes for reconciliation with Helena or — delayed wish fulfillment with Grayson, he still eagerly awaits the permanent destruction of a couple that’s tainted much of school for him.

Dick’s expression is uncomfortable after Roy’s comment. Jason lets Dick catch the smirk playing on his lips. Dick takes a deep breath before looking back at Roy and clapping a hand down on Roy’s shoulder with a familiarity that irks Jason. “Hey, we’ll catch up, alright?” promises Dick. “But actually I have something I need to talk to Jason about one-on-one.”

Roy is no stranger to Jason’s tragic backstory regarding Dick Grayson. “Sure thing,” he says dubiously, raising his eyebrows at Jason. For added measure, he waggles them in a way that has both Jason glaring and Dick looking uncomfortable away. Jason opens his mouth slowly because he’s not sure what he wants to say, maybe “wait,” Roy puts a burst of energy into his step until he’s catching up with Wally West who’s already finished the course and is still running for fun.

“Cool dude,” Dick says weirdly.

“Uh, yeah,” says Jason as Dick’s words settle in. I actually have something I need to talk to Jason about one-on-one. What the hell? The most they’ve ever spoken to each other after middle school was while setting up for last year’s homecoming dance. Dick had roped in Kory who roped in Roy who roped in Jason. It was an unfairly good night. Roy fed off Kory’s attention and made Jason laugh so hard he nearly pissed himself several times. Helena had practice all night for her archery league, so Dick was on his own and for whatever reason, he stuck to Jason’s side the whole event.

Jason didn’t let himself think about that night afterwards, but during the moment, Dick had a way of making everything between them feel fresh and new. He hadn’t been weighed down by his private history — a history revolving around Dick that Dick probably didn’t even realize — at all.

“So,” Jason says, toying around with his popsicle sticks as they jog. Without meaning to, Jason has slowed down to Dick’s leisurely walk. “Speak.”

Dick smiles and laughs softly, if a little nervously. He really smiles a lot. Jason wonders how he ever thought Dick was viable partner with his Pollyanna temperament. “Right. Well, here comes the hard part, I guess, right?” Dick asks. Then he seems to wait for Jason to actually dignify that with a response despite it containing no legitimate content to respond to. Dick’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. He shrugs, smiles. “Here goes,” he says and stops walking altogether. Jason rolls his eyes and stops, although what Dick could possibly say that requires an utter stand-still is beyond him.

Dick’s hand rummages in the pockets of his gym shorts. He pulls out an envelope which he then fiddles with. “I honestly had no idea you felt this way,” Dick begins. Immediately, Jason is on his guard. “I mean, I suppose there were signs and I suppose I ignored them on purpose. Maybe I was wrong to, but it seemed simplest that way, you know, if we just carried on with our own separate lives? What with Helena and me, and you and — someone who’s not in a relationship. Or just freshly out of one, in my case.” Here, Dick chuckled. “You hardly left time for the dust to settle on that one. I actually admire your boldness — for real, it’s refreshing for someone to just lay out all their cards and say, ‘Hey, this is how I feel.’ No dumb high school politics or the proverbial closet, just honesty.”

Jason is barely listening to Dick’s rambling bullshit. His eyes are glued to the envelope that is surely connected to whatever Twilight Zone thing is going down. Dick Grayson is talking to him about feelings and cold dread is rapidly filling Jason like water on the Titanic as he remembers what he did three years ago that can fit inside a tiny envelope.

Dick inches closer, his head tilted slightly upwards as Jason stays staring down at the object in Dick’s hands. “And if I’m also being honest, you wrote things to me that kept me up at night. I don’t think anyone’s ever thought about me that way, about my eyes — well, you know you wrote.”

That’s the last straw, the confirmation Jason needed if not wanted, and he roughly rips the letter out of Jason’s hands. Dick nearly stumbles back in surprise. “I don’t where you got this,” he says, voice low as he glares daggers into Dick’s eyes — blue like clean waters that shimmer in the sun and give life to those desperate for a drink — and steps threateningly into his space. “But it is not yours and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from me and keep everything you read to yourself,” he warns. His embarrassment is bearing down on his shoulders, heating his cheeks and hitting his chest in harsh heartbeats. He stands his ground only because he’s worried the ground might swallow him whole otherwise.

For the second time during gym class, Jason hears his name being called. Jason breaks the intense moment and looks up to see no other than Konnor Kent, Tim’s newly-exxed boyfriend, walking towards him. He’s wearing that leather jacket Jason’s always loved on him and a pair of skin-tight jeans with tons of buckles that should be cringey but instead is just super hot. He’s slighter than Dick although they’re both lean and his thick dark hair curls up at the front rather than lying in a mess of waves like Dick’s. He’s got style to him and although Dick isn’t one to put as much thought into his wardrobe, Jason has to admit now that they’re almost side-by-side that he has a type.

He interrupts his admiration first with the reminder to have a little shame, Konnor is Tim’s, not his, even if they’re not together anymore. His self-flagellation is ended early when he spots a thin piece of paper in Konnor’s leather-clad hands.

Dear Konnor,

Fair warning, what I’m about to tell you is wrong. But that’s why I have to say it. Because if I keep it to myself and refuse to acknowledge what’s between us, then I’ll always feel that way. But if I get it out all on paper now, then I can come to terms with the fact that you’re not mine. You can’t ever be mine.

Jason went on like for five pages, front and back. And now Jason’s heart is on Konnor’s sleeve. Tim just left him and Jason is swooping in for the kill like a vulture. What if Konnor has already told Tim? What if Tim is the one who found these letters? Did he send one to Dick as revenge for his feelings towards Konnor? Would Tim be that petty?

Yes. Tim would absolutely be that petty.

Konnor is almost closing the distance. “Jason, I need to talk to you,” he calls out. Jason honestly cannot handle this. He can’t handle the repercussions of his letter reaching Konnor, let alone of them discussing the letter. Konnor either came here to reject him or, or — to not, and he can’t say which would be worse. Over the years, Jason has landed himself into some pretty risky scenarios from foolhardy adventures, but never has he felt this panicky before.

Konnor is only a few yards away. Jason’s mind has cleared of all things except: I cannot talk to him.

Jason’s body has a solution for this. Jason’s body does not at all consult Jason’s head when it throws itself at Dick Grayson. One hand cups the back of Dick’s neck while the other grabs his arm. Dick isn’t expecting Jason’s full weight and when Jason’s foot slides between his, Dick goes tumbling backwards. The two fall to the ground in tandem but Jason doesn’t break the kiss. He’s vaguely aware of Dick’s little yelp, but he’s more keen on the plush of his lips and the smell of his shampoo. Dick’s chest is solid beneath his. Jason moves just enough to take some of the weight off him, his hand lifting Dick’s neck for a better angle.

Jason’s name is shouted a third time. “Todd, get off him!” he hears an instructor bark. Jason has an arm on either side of Dick’s shoulders as he looks up to see Mr. Queen running towards them, popsicle sticks in hand. Jason gazes down at Dick whose eyes are blown wide and staring straight into Jason’s, lips gently parted.

Jason gets off the boy he’s just tackled. Mr. Queen is asking him what’s wrong with you but Jason is busy watching Konnor’s retreating form. Mr. Queen demands Dick and Jason go to the principal's office. Jason’s head whips around to the teacher. “No, sir, don’t do that,” he nearly begs. He can hear Dick push himself to his feet but he’s stubbornly not looking at him. He doesn’t think he can ever look at Dick again, actually, which is a pity since it’s one of his pastimes. “It’s on me, sir, I tackled him.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell!” Mr. Queen snaps. Unforeseen, Roy and Wally have lapped around to the three of them. Roy grabs two popsicle sticks, says “dude,” and keeps going. Jason glares until Wally stops rubbernecking.

“Dick can stay. I’ll find my way to the principal’s,” Jason says. He’s relieved when Mr. Queen merely says, “I’ll be checking,” because Jason would die on the spot if he had to then walk with Dick and sit next to him as he explained why exactly he bodyslammed Gotham City High’s sweetheart and planted one on him for all gym class.

Jason shoves his popsicle sticks into Mr. Queen’s hands, still ignoring Dick as he turns on his heels and gets the hell out of there.

#jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #dc #fanfiction for the void

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