this sweet life

2

Did I say Michael is a young guy? And also so thinner) and very, very happy! This is seen in the smiling eyes, in a cheerful voice, an energy that is felt all around.
Michael remembered me instantly and said Welcome back, nice to see you again. We had a few minuts but I couldnt say him how glad to see him on the stage and how he is beautiful in Wakey wakey.
This portrait is my thank him for all that Michael is doing.
He would be shocked and said It’s so big work. At first he thought it was drawn.
So I gave him a portrait Carrie. And had many thanks. He was really gentlman)
Finnaly we hugged and Michael with the words See you again left for a break between performances.
PS. He smells very tasty))))
Cant wait next performance time!
Well, oops we did it again, yes.

E dulce atunci când cineva ştie fiecare detaliu despre tine. Nu pentru că tu le aminteşti în mod constant, ci pentru că ei îţi acordă atenţie.
—  fluppsluup
4

Claes Oldenburg

I Am For… (Statement, 1961)

I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum.
I am for an art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art given the chance of having a starting point of zero.
I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap and still comes out on top.
I am for an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or whatever is necessary.
I am for all art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself.

I am for an artist who vanishes, turning up in a white cap painting signs or hallways.

I am for art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky.
I am for art that spills out of an old man’s purse when he is bounced off a passing fender.
I am for the art out of a doggie’s mouth, falling five stories from the roof.
I am for the art that a kid licks, after peeling away the wrapper.
I am for an art that joggles like everyone’s knees, when the bus traverses an excavation.
I am for art that is smoked like a cigarette, smells like a pair of shoes.
I am for art that flaps like a flag, or helps blow noses like a handkerchief.
I am for art that is put on and taken off like pants, which develops holes like socks, which is eaten like a piece of pie, or abandoned with great contempt like a piece of shit.

I am for art covered with bandages. I am for art that limps and rolls and runs and jumps.
I am for art that comes in a can or washes up on the shore.
I am for art that coils and grunts like a wrestler. I am for art that sheds hair.
I am for art you can sit on. I am for art you can pick your nose with or stub your toes on.
I am for art from a pocket, from deep channels of the ear, from the edge of a knife, from the corners of the mouth, stuck in the eye or worn on the wrist.
I am for art under the skirts, and the art of pinching cockroaches.

I am for the art of conversation between the sidewalk and a blind man’s metal stick.
I am for the art that grows in a pot, that comes down out of the skies at night, like lightning, that hides in the clouds and growls. I am for art that is flipped on and off with a switch.
I am for art that unfolds like a map, that you can squeeze, like your sweetie’s arm, or kiss like a pet dog. Which expands and squeaks like an accordion, which you can spill your dinner on like an old tablecloth.
I am for an art that you can hammer with, stitch with, sew with, paste with, file with.
I am for an art that tells you the time of day, or where such and such a street is.
I am for an art that helps old ladies across the street.

I am for the art of the washing machine. I am for the art of a government check. I am for the art of last war’s raincoat.
I am for the art that comes up in fogs from sewer holes in winter. I am for the art that splits when you step on a frozen puddle. I am for the worm’s art inside the apple. I am for the art of sweat that develops between crossed legs.

I am for the art of neck hair and caked teacups, for the art between the tines of restaurant forks, for the odor of boiling dishwater.
I am for the art of sailing on Sunday, and the art of red-and-white gasoline pumps.
I am for the art of bright blue factory columns and blinking biscuit signs.
I am for the art of cheap plaster and enamel. I am for the art of worn marble and smashed slate. I am for the art of rolling cobblestones and sliding sand. I am for the art of slag and black coal. I am for the art of dead birds.
I am for the art of scratching in the asphalt, daubing at the walls. I am for the art of bending and kicking metal and breaking glass, and pulling at things to make them fall down.

I am for the art of punching and skinned knees and sat-on bananas. I am for the art of kids’ smells. I am for the art of mama-babble.
I am for the art of bar-babble, tooth-picking, beer-drinking, egg-salting, in-sulting. I am for the art of falling off a barstool.

I am for the art of underwear and the art of taxicabs. I am for the art of ice-cream cones dropped on concrete. I am for the majestic art of dog turds, rising like cathedrals.

I am for the blinking arts, lighting up the night. I am for art falling, splashing, wiggling, jumping, going on and off.
I am for the art of fat truck tires and black eyes.
I am for Kool art, 7UP art, Pepsi art, Sunshine art, 39 cents art, 15 cents art, Vatronol art, Dro-bomb art, Vam art, Menthol art, L&M art, Ex-lax art, Venida art, Heaven Hill art, Pamryl art, San-o-med art, Rx art, 9.99 art, Now art, New art, How art, Fire Sale art, Last Chance art, Only art, Diamond art, Tomorrow art, Franks art, Ducks art, Meat-o-rama art.

I am for the art of bread wet by rain. I am for the rat’s dance between floors. I am for the art of flies walking on a slick pear in the electric light. I am for the art of soggy onions and firm green shoots. I am for the art of clicking among the nuts when the roaches come and go. I am for the brown sad art of rotting apples.
I am for the art of meows and clatter of cats and for the art of their dumb electric eyes.
I am for the white art of refrigerators and their muscular openings and closings.
I am for the art of rust and mold. I am for the art of hearts, funeral hearts or sweetheart hearts, full of nougat. I am for the art of worn meat hooks and singing barrels of red, white, blue, and yellow meat.
I am for the art of things lost or thrown away, coming home from school. I am for the art of cock-and-ball trees and flying cows and the noise of rectangles and squares. I am for the art of crayons and weak, gray pencil lead, and grainy wash and sticky oil paint, and the art of windshield wipers and the art of the finger on a cold window, on dusty steel or in the bubbles on the sides of a bathtub.
I am for the art of teddy bears and guns and decapitated rabbits, exploded umbrellas, raped beds, chairs with their brown bones broken, burning trees, firecracker ends, chicken bones, pigeon bones, and boxes with men sleeping in them.

I am for the art of slightly rotten funeral flowers, hung bloody rabbits and wrinkly yellow chickens, bass drums and tambourines, and plastic phonographs.
I am for the art of abandoned boxes, tied like pharaohs. I am for an art of water tanks and speeding clouds and flapping shades.
I am for US Government Inspected Art, Grade A art, Regular Price art, Yellow Ripe art, Extra Fancy art, Ready-to-Eat art, Best-for-Less art, Ready-to-Cook art, Fully Cleaned art, Spend Less art, Eat Better art, Ham art, pork art, chicken art, tomato art, banana art, apple art, turkey art, cake art, cookie art…

Your first date with Newt Scamander would include

Originally posted by hardyness

Anonymous asked OMG I need more Newt fanfics in my life! Can you do what your first date with him would include?


  • Him shyly asking if you wanted to get dinner with him. And you ask if it’s a date, and he hesitates, but says (avoiding eye contact) yes.
  • You wearing a huge scarf that almost swamps you and he thinks it’s adorable.
  • Him picking you up from your apartment and the two of you walk to the restaurant.
  • The two of you talking softly about work, and Newt’s admiring how you look out of the corners of his eyes.
  • Him offering you the seat, all gentlemanly like, at the table.
  • Newt talks about his passion for animals, and you just sit there, smiling shyly at how adorable your date is.
  • Once you get your foods and are eating, you ask him if his food is good. He lifts his fork up and says “Open wide?” Blushing, you try his food and offer him some of yours.
  • Him asking you if you’d like dessert or not. As it turns out, both of you couldn’t really afford two of the fancy cakes, so you share one.
  • He lets you eat the last bite of cake, off his fork.
  • The two of you talk and take a stroll under the bright lights of New York.
  • You get a little chilly and scoot closer to Newt. He asks if you’re cold and before you can answer, swishes off his coat and gives it to you. And on top of that, he wraps his scarf around your neck, over the other one.
  • You notice his scarf smells slightly musky, like hay and dust.
  • Newt asks if he can hold your hand, and you say yes. He takes your hand and slips it into his pocket, keeping both of your hands warm.
  • Once you’re done with your walk, you make your way back to your house, still talking about animals.
  • Him sweetly asking if he can kiss you.
  • You standing on tip toes to kiss him.
  • He wraps his arms around your waist, and you gently pet his hair. His lips are warm and yours are cool.
  • The date ends with him asking if he can show you his animals tomorrow, and you say yes.
  • Newt watches you walk up to your apartment, smiling a bashful smile and rubbing his neck, thinking, “I think that first day went rather well indeed.”
The Jealous Hufflepuff (Newt X Reader)

Originally posted by 5sos-1d-thedorks

For this story, just pretend Porpentina is just Newt’s friend. If you don’t like that idea, don’t read it! I’m simply trying to give people some fluff for their hungry souls! Also just pretend Jacob never lost his memory of what happened in the movie. Lastly, sorry if I’ve posted like a lot today. I don’t care. I love Fantastic Beasts and I’m kidding, I’m not even remotely sorry.

Warnings: so much fluff, you might die. Read with caution. And maybe heart it, if you like it.


“Ever wondered if Newt gets jealous?” Porpentina said cutting straight to the chase.

You paused from drinking your coffee to look at your friend. “What do you mean?” You asked skeptically.

It was just you, Porpentina, Jacob, and Queenie. Newt said he was too busy to attend coffee, but they all knew he was highly introverted and probably needed some down time with his beasts. Whenever Newt wasn’t around, for some reason, the conversation was always on that strange nerdy, but adorable man.

“I was just curious. I heard Hufflepuffs are really loyal and patient. Sweet people, if you get what I’m saying,” Porpentina explained calmly stirring her tea.

“The people everyone loves,” Jacob concluded.

You kept your skeptical look on Porpentina. Where was she going with this? They all knew you had a major crush on Newt. It was kind of hard not to notice. You were a bumbling idiot around Newt! It didn’t help that Queenie kept reading your mind, and would always wink and smile at you. “Porpentina. What are you thinking…?” You said bluntly.

Porpentina shrugged. “We’re having this bet,” she started slowly. “Jacob doesn’t think Newt could get jealous, but I’m not so sure.”

You looked blankly at Jacob, who refused to look at you, and then back at Porpentina. “Seriously. What’s going on?”

Queenie blurted out in her soft voice, “We want to make Newt jealous.”

The heck. Make Newt jealous?! That sounded like a recipe for disaster! “Are you serious?!” You demanded.

“Look it’s not like he’s not a man, he has feelings and desires too, I’m sure!” Porpentina insisted strongly.

You blushed. Where was she going with this…? “Hold on—you aren’t… no, don’t you even dare, Porpentina…” you said in an almost strained voice.

Porpentina refused to look at you and continued, “You’re mad for him, honey. It doesn’t take Queenie’s mind reading to know it. And we’re curious to know how Newt feels about you.”

“It will be fun!” Queenie added on, smiling sweetly at you.

“FUN?” You mimicked. “This is a horrible idea! Please no!”

“We already made the bet,” Jacob chided, giving you a pleading look. “Prove that I’m right and he can’t ever get jealous. C’mon, help a guy out, Y/N.”

You looked flustered, looking at everyone. It was true, you were curious to know how Newt felt about you, but this was a little extreme. “How… hypothetically, suppose are we going to make him jealous?”

“Pretend that you and Jacob are fond of each other,” Porpentina said absentmindedly.

You looked at Queenie. “Ummmm… I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“That’s kinda what I thought…” Jacob said, also looking at Queenie.

But Queenie was beaming. She laughed musically, “Don’t be silly, goobers! I came up with the idea myself!”

“Yeah but still,” Jacob mumbled under his breath. “The only lady I really want is you.”

Queenie gave him a loving look and patted his hands. “I know, love. But do it for me. I know you have feelings for me, help Y/N out for me!”

“Okay, fine!” You shouted loudly, your face hot red. “When do we start?”


You walked closely to Jacob, giggling like an idiot. But the giggling was a horrible nervous giggle of apprehensiveness. This was so stupid.

The plan was really simple. You were pretending to like Jacob, and to make things a little more realistic, hopefully, Jacob was pretending not to be interested in you. Basically, now that you thought about it, making you look like a total horrible slutty adultery woman.

All of you were taking a walk in Central Park, talking about beasts and what other creatures they might find. However, Newt was strangely quiet, and only talked once the subject about beasts came up.

“Oh, dear, my shoe fell off,” you stated in a matter-o-fact tone. You clutched onto Jacob’s arm, hoping on one foot.

Jacob steadied you as you put your shoe back on, glancing up at Newt. Newt was expressionless, but smiled sweetly at you once he caught you looking at him. You felt a wave of complete guilt wash over you, as Newt just looked at you, smiling like nothing was wrong.

“Thanks, Jacob,” You said, more in a bedraggled tone than a flirty up beat way. You stopped giggling, but you didn’t walk away from Jacob, even though you wanted nothing more than to rush over and hug Newt.


There were a few more attempts later that day, but all of them failed. No matter what happened, Newt seemed calm and always smiled at you. But there was a sort of hollowness in his smile. More confused and less happy. You couldn’t really read his expression, but you knew something was wrong. He probably hated you. For flirting with Jacob, when Queenie wasn’t around. How horrible.

The more and more you flirted with Jacob, the more you hated yourself. You wanted to take up your wand and simply blow off your head. You couldn’t keep doing this to Newt!

You were helping Jacob feed some of Newt’s pets, giggling and talking quietly with Jacob. Jacob was nearly as worn out as you were. He was sick of this all, but Queenie kept insisting.

Jacob said he was going up to check on Queenie who was cooking dinner for them. “I’ll be right up, Jacob!” You giggled. It sounded like a sickly giggle though.

Newt had been silently watching the two of you, while petting a salamander. You were alone with Newt now. “Y/N,” Newt said softly.

You turned to Newt, refusing to look at him. “Yes?”

“Why… are you…” he stumbled over his words, frowning hard. “I don’t understand.”

You began to walk to the ladder which took them back to the real world. “What do you not understand?” You asked slowly, not wanting to know the answer.

Newt fidgeted with his fingers nervously, figuring out how to explain it to you. He followed you and said, “Well… it’s just that… what you’re doing, I don’t think it’s right.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. How were you going to explain this? You hastily made your way to the ladder. Once you were back into the apartment, Porpentina could help you explain it all. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“No. It’s exactly what I think it is,” Newt said sharply and boldly. “It needs to stop.”

You were almost hurt by the way he said it. Newt was always soft spoken, and sweet. But he sounded stern and almost angry. You walked a little faster. “Please, Newt, you don’t really understand,” You whimpered.

You began to climb the ladder, but Newt tried to gently grab at your hand. “Y/N,” He said softly.

Newt grasping at your hand, made your face blush and your mind went something along the lines of JFDKLAFJDSIOP NEWT IS HOLD MY HAND HFDSKLAFJALJFKL. With that sudden realization, stupid you lost your balance and fell off the ladder. You let out a high pitch squeal and you fell onto Newt, sending the both of you onto the ground.

He let out a, “OOOF!” as you fell on top of him.

Tangled up, you hastily apologized, completely erratic and nervous. “I’m so sorry, Newt! I didn’t mean to fall on you!” You sat up, still sitting on Newt and gazed down on him with an embarrassed look.

Newt looked back up at you and gently put his hand on your face. “Y/N… what’s going on?”

“I-I’m sorry,” was all you could say, as stupid hot tears filled your eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you!”

Newt propped himself up, his other hand still on your cheek. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, looking concerned.

Your heart skipped a beat. He called you sweetheart. You frantically wiped away the tears. “It’s just that… I didn’t want to make you jealous, but it was Porpentina’s idea.”

Newt blinked a few times, then he raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, make me jealous?”

Uh oh. You said it. You hiccupped and said, “Uhh… why don’t we just go up and eat dinner?”

What stopped you from getting up off Newt was Newt gently pressing his lips against your forehead. Then he moved his lips to your mouth, kissing innocently. He then breathed quietly, “Is that was you wanted?”

“Making you jealous or the kiss?” You murmured quietly. His thumb was softly stroking your cheek, and your heart felt like it was going to explode. AKA heart attack and you would just die. Embarrassing and depressing if that happened.

“Both?” He concluded, rubbing his forehead against yours.

You smiled contently, breathing in the smell of cloves and hay. “Yeah. I think so…” was all you could say. Sounded stupid, but you were basically in a trance, so who cares.

Suddenly three heads poked out from the suitcase opening. “That’ll be six weeks of pastries, Jacob,” Porpentina mused, looking down at you and Newt. You were still sitting on Newt, and looked like you weren’t in a hurry to get up.

Both you and Newt looked up at them. Newt laughed, but you were less forgiving than Newt. You glared up at them, and barked, “Seriously, you guys?” Then you turned to Newt. “Were you really jealous, Newt?”

Newt snaked his hand around your neck and said, “I was absolutely dotty for you.” He pulled you in for another kiss.

Queenie laughed and said, “Look at them, Jacob! Aren’t you happy for them?”

Suddenly, a thought burst into your mind. You were a little bit angry. Maybe more than a little bit. “Queenie…” you said in a low growl.

“Yes, dear?” she asked curiously, smiling down at you.

You glared at her. “Did you know Newt fancied me already?”

Queenie smiled innocently. “This was a bet to see if Newt got jealous, pie-dear. You never asked me if Newt fancied you.”

“QUEENIE!”

The end!