* / 𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒

[scaryfangsremade-blog]

well i used to be attracted to people but now im exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death

[c--e--l--e--b--r--i--t--i--e--s]

Remy Hii

[the-light-is-in-your-eyes]

in art gallery

me: [looks at painting]…….wig………..[walks to next painting]………wig…………….[walks to next painting]……………..wig…………….[walks to next

[hugos]

ophelia

Bless Hugo’s parents for creating the sweetest man on earth with impeccable style and wonderful hair. Milo happily followed the other to the bar, ordering a Lemon Drop for himself (with sugar on the rim!) and grabbing another little finger quiche for himself when a waiter walked by. “I think I’ve seen him before. He’s actually really attractive, from what I remember. I also heard he was rumored to be engaged to Elise Morgan for a while– but I bet that’s just dumb gossip.” He couldn’t imagine Elise smiling and being sweet with another man when the woman intimidated him just by looking at his direction. Milo waved his hand at him and pretended to swoon. “Stop, you’re making me blush…tell me more. What would you be in this Disneyverse?”

“yeah, he looks like a cartoon prince from a kids movie. seriously.” good genes as well as titles seemed to run in that family. “unfortunately, he’s probably also as straight as a cartoon prince from a kids movie.” so not someone to set milo up with, though he kept his eye out, as he did for all his friends. “mushu. hands down - i’d like to say i was a hercules or a li shang type, but honestly i hate going to the gym way too much to qualify.” he took his glass from the bartender and held it up between himself and milo. “so, what should we toast to — my new job that means i don’t have to fly twenty four hours to come see you?”

[hugos]

theia

the third wheat field with cypresses was smaller, much less significant than the other two, but had been in a private collection for decades. even finding the current owner was difficult. “it was one of the few times i’ve had my agent tell the owner who was doing the purchasing.” name-dropping was usually above her, but every once in awhile she simply could not resist.

she nodded, the smile on her face much more genuine now that they were speaking of a topic she adored. “it is my absolute favorite, but it took time to find. and, of course, to ascertain that it was in its rightful hands. i love art, but i have no intention of purchasing a piece that was stolen from its rightful owners. the austrian government should be ashamed.” she had followed the stories, had what maria altmann had gone through to recover the six klimts stolen by the belvedere during nazi rule.

“just make sure you find some old plate to put it on first,” she teased, the words unfamiliar on her tongue. when was the last time she had done something so silly simply for amusement? “i wonder how long he’d leave it up in kensington thinking it’s an art piece.” probably too long, but poppy couldn’t help but enjoy her brother’s ineptitude.

hugo chuckled. “that royal title has to be good for something more than getting people into bed - which is, dare i say it, all i’ve seen one used for so far.” the royal family could thank edward for that. collecting paintings was among the very few things he thought a hereditary title should be used for, but the longer he spoke to the princess, the more he wondered if the title had, in this case, landed on a worthy pair of shoulders. 

“it’s truly the bane of my existence.” sometimes histories were so murky he had to make the decision between forgoing a work in a show or exhibiting it without being sure, and the hours he’d wasted in this career mincing over those decisions had been long. “the austrians are just the tip of the iceberg, unfortunately. most collectors don’t care where things came from, just that they’re for sale. it’s criminal really, but so rarely do people pay any attention.” he got the impression that he was preaching to the choir.

“there’s a shitty op-shop near my new place. i’ll have to go and peruse their collection of horrible old plates when i get back to london tomorrow.” he was certainly looking forward to not having a long-haul flight between a society event and home, this time. “you might have to go pay him a visit to check. my guess would be it’d stay up until someone ratted me out.” 

[fyeahmarcopolo]

Remy Hii as Brad Davis in Marvel’s Spider-Man: Far From Home

[hugos]

POINT COUNT ( 10 may - 16 may ) claiming ( 39 ) points for HUGO TENG.

point breakdown : replies:  ( 14 ) x ( 1 point ) = 14 points. intro: ( 1 ) x ( 15 points ) = 15 points. task: ( 1 ) x ( 10 points ) = 10 points. previous total: n/a. total : ( 39 ) points.

HUGO TENG now has ( 39 ) points.

[hugos]

bacchus

“ classic rich person curse, ” antony said on the edge of a laugh, louder than he probably should have, but not loud enough –– sadly. there were at least three people behind them who definitely needed to unhinge their egos and slowly step away from the painting. after about twelve too many conversations about brush strokes and perspective and van gogh’s genius ( seriously, it was a painting of a few ugly flowers in a glorified cup ), it was a relief to talk to someone who didn’t worship at the altar of some dude’s doodles. “ are you even rich if you don’t own a van gogh and tell everyone you have a van gogh? ” he took another sip of his drink and raised his brows in question, a surprised laugh pulling from him. 

“ one use only tea-towel, i like it –– might give me a little lead poisoning but, ” antony began conspiratorially, draining the last of his g&t and turning to the stranger with a grin, “ who doesn’t like living on the edge? ” he was just west of tipsy, but he shook his head just a little. “ sorry, antony hargreaves –– ” introductions never really were his strong suit. “ and nah, i don’t really know what to do with any of this. what about you –– got your eye on something? ”

“lucky us for being immune.” hugo snickered, hiding his smug smile with the rim of his glass as the crowd around the painting thinned out a little. “it’s a rite of passage. no point buying one if you can’t skite about it. that’s what they’re for.” he rolled his eyes. a shame really, hugo thought, to see an artist once so subversive in his field to become a mere calling-card of conspicuous consumption. such was the curse of being coveted by the rich.

“hugo teng. pleasure.” he had never been one for formalities, and he smiled in greeting. “not really - told myself i wasn’t allowed to take anything home tonight. my collecting habits are getting... out of hand. everything here’s a little traditional or trite for me to be inclined to break that rule.” he waved his drink-free hand dismissively. “besides, if i buy it here, i’ll be expected to loan it to a museum so as to appear extra charitable and there’s no fun in that.” there was no point to mixing work with pleasure, after all. 

[hugos]

theia

a brow rose, but poppy said nothing in response. she was very much of the opinion that social mores and etiquette existed for a reason and while she might admit to finding people entertaining to watch when they lost all sensibilities, she certainly didn’t wish to be a part of it. the crystal flute was once again lifted to her lips and she took a heavy sip as she listened to hugo speak of art.

she took another sip from her champagne flute. “the kandinsky is very well-regarded,” she acknowledged. “at my home in the cotswolds, i have another van gogh, the third, smaller version of wheat field with cypresses. it was incredibly difficult to convince that buyer to sell.” but she’d done it. lips curved once more. “but i would say my favorite piece in my collection would be a commissioned klimt portrait. it’s similar to portrait of adele bloch-bauer i with the gold leaf, though the subject remains unknown.” perhaps she spent too much on her personal collections from time to time, but poppy was of the belief that they would one day belong to the british public so it could not be too obscene to spend the money.

“believe me, i am inordinately pleased that edward and i do not share a residence for that reason alone.” there were others, of course, but it seemed too rude to air much of her dirty laundry in public. she laughed, a tinkling sound, at hugo’s final comment. “i wish i could say i was surprised,” she remarked. “you could probably go down to the market, purchase a package of rice, and tell edward it cost you millions. he’d likely believe you.”

“i’m not surprised, some of those old collectors are so tight-fisted, especially with the big-name artists.” it must have taken tenacity. he certainly knew how much persuasion it took to get them to loan their work to galleries, selling would be a whole different ball-game. whatever he had expected from the duchess of york, witty remarks and veiled smiles had not been it. 

the curator made no attempt to hide how impressed he was. works by klimt were hard to come by, especially when galleries held tight to what they had, and very few works existed in private collections after the war. “i suppose that will always be her secret - just between klimt and his model. it’s part of the allure. although i guess that’s easy for me to say when i’m not the one who has to look at it and wonder.” 

hugo’s eyes glinted with the kind of mischief those who knew him well recognised as a warning. “he likely would.” a few moments passed as a smile came to his face and he considered it. “maybe i’ll try it. there are worse things to do with a bag of rice.” edward was good-natured enough to probably see it for the joke it was, and hugo had certainly done less to impress a girl he had no business trying to impress. 

[hugos]

elixir

The charity event was just that to Edward. He was there more for the society than what was displayed. The only thing that would make this better was if his sister wasn’t there and he didn’t have to come with Regina on his arm. She was better than perhaps the other choices his mother could have paired him with. As long as he didn’t feel tethered to her was what mattered to him. It was only for a night and a few more public events. 

“If you can call this a party. Is there any word on an after party? I might be more willing to attend that then this.” He kept his words to a low murmur that only Hugo could hear. Having the prince and future king admit that he wasn’t humble to be at a charity event was unbecoming of him. “Oh, did you? And what was your impression on my dear sister? Most people find her rather unsettling.” Edward didn’t know what Poppy was going to do with the painting, but if it meant that much to her hopefully she walked away with something that resembled a smile. He emitted a light chuckle at the comparison to his sister. “I’m still waiting for the day for father to tell us we are adopted.” He sipped idly from his champagne flute, his eye casting around the room. “I have my eye on a few things that are also arguably related to art.”

“mmhmm. something about the moulin rouge. might not be your speed, your highness. no china teacups or fancy security details, hm?” hugo snickered, bolstered by a few strong drinks and edward’s air of casualness to tease him with his title. it didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would mind when there was no malice to it, but all this spending time with royals was new to him, and his footing still felt a little unsure. he didn’t like to be unsure - this would have to change, in time. 

“i liked her far more than your descriptions of her would lead me to have thought i would.” though he supposed it had never been relevant for edward to mention that his sister was beautiful as well as armed with a razor sharp wit. “unsettling’s not the word i’d use, but i won’t lie, i considered googling to check if you were. you’re certainly not cut from the same cloth.” a liberal sip from his glass, and a quick follow of edward’s gaze confirmed he was speaking of the next best thing, in hugo’s opinion, to beautiful art - beautiful people. “interesting, i could have bet more money than your sister’s about to spend on that van gogh that you arrived with a date.” 

[hugos]

ophelia

“Well now that you’re in Europe you’re even closer to us! If you ever visit France there’s always a place for you to stay. My parents have little lofts all over the place but I’d personally invite you to my loft in Montmatre because in the evenings there’s always wonderful music coming from the streets below. We should celebrate your new job, though. That is always such a very important thing, a new job. Did the Prince of Wales have good taste?” He was sure even if he didn’t, Hugo would gently nudge the man towards the right direction. Huge was great at nudging and never letting his personal opinion appear imposing or rigid. He was kind in his approach and Milo always appreciated how tactful he was even when he knew working with people who bought art for the sake of showing off almost felt like selling a piece of your soul to the devil. His grandmother, an art appraiser, always reminisced about her clients when she’s had too many glasses of wine. “Oh, I love babies! I don’t think I’ve been around a baby in a long, long time and I’m sort of clumsy, but if it’s well wrapped like a burrito I’m sure it won’t be harmed. If the time comes I’ll practice with my cat long before, I promise.”

“i love montmarte - i always try to stay around there when i come to paris. i can’t believe i never knew you were a local.” it sounded like he would be making plenty of excursions to france in the next few months. 

“we should! i propose a toast. for my new job, and i’m sure you can think of something we can toast for you too.” he looped his arm in milo’s and lead him to the bar. he ordered a gin and tonic (generous on the gin) for himself before turning to the model. “what’ll it be?” while he waited for their drinks, he resumed their conversation. “i’m afraid he did not.” he shrugged. “but oh well, you don’t have to have good taste to rule. at least he’ll look hot on the money.” for all edward’s naivete, he looked every inch the future king, though whether that would be enough for england and the commonwealth was still to be seen. “i bet you’re great with them - burrito or not. you have like, disney princess energy, i swear.” 

[hugos]

ophelia

“I’ll believe you on that! Whatever it is, I think I can give mama a stone and she’d find a place for it on our mantle. In this case, it’s an extremely old rock in the shape of a lady bearing symbols of fertility and motherhood,” he beamed, leaning down so he can talk to the figurine through the glass, “I hope I can give you a nice new home that you’re happy with, so hang tight!” Once he straightened up, he was tall enough to do a quick scan to identify if his mother was in his line of vision. “Oh, she’d love to see you again I’m sure. She’s been spending her time hunting down beautiful works like some quarantined Indiana Jones. My father insists on her reducing her travels but since this event was so close to home, she insisted on coming. You can ask all about the manuscripts in person.” Milo smiled at him in admiration, “I feel bad for always tying you with my own family, how have you been? Any awesome conquests? Famous clients? Secret lovechild?”

hugo beamed with fondness at milo’s reassuring words to the venus. such a sweet soul he was, so empathetic even a very old rock was not exempt from his charms. “don’t apologise for it - i love your parents. when mine are so far away, its nice to have at least two people around who look out for me.” and the baptistes always had, following his career and giving him a leg up when he needed one. 

“life is good at the moment.” he grinned. “just landed a new job in london, at the tate, so i made the move over to europe and its great. i’ve been helping the prince of wales out with some collecting which has been... honestly wild.” he chuckled and took a liberal sip from his drink. “no secret lovechild yet, thank god, but when that unfortunate happening comes to pass i’ll be naming you as godfather since you’re my only friend who can look at a baby without panicking.” 

[hugos]

kharis

“Interesting choices,” Alessandra said, smiling as her gaze wandered over to the respective lots. “You have no competition from me — my eyes are set on the Venus of Monruz. I don’t have quite something that old in my collection; the Palazzo Doria-Pamphilj is filled with Renaissance works, mostly. Then again, it might not fit in with the rest, so I may simply donate it to the Louvre. I’m sure the world would appreciate being able to bask in its presence.” Alessandra returned her gaze to the man, and decided to return to her favourite business: the initiation rites of the Society. “Have any new initiates caught your eye? That’s a collection I’m always looking to add more names to. Many of the new initiates are… unfit for the society, it seems. It’s been hard searching for worthy gems.”

“so i have heard. its a rather legendary collection among my circles. i’m sure the venus will be a jewel in either collection. it’s rare that something so ancient to have such a timeless form.” for all his concerns with the society, he couldn’t help but revel in the politics that came with it. being a member had its perks, and the initiation process was something he amused himself with. “i haven’t met many of them yet, at least not enough to cast my lots, though from afar i’m inclined to agree with you.” though he was growing weary of the gatekeeping within the society, he was not saint enough not to participate every now and then. “ophelia is an old family friend, i’d vouch for him if it came to it, i suppose. i went to school with pluto, he’s trouble but not always the bad kind. and theia seems of the right sort.” he waved his hand dismissively. “the rest i could care less about. as you say, hardly worthy. do you have favourites this time around?”

[hugos]

theia‌

the champagne flute rose toward her lips once more, the bubbles dancing over poppy’s tongue as she listened to hugo speak. she found herself entertained at the frankness with which he spoke. “they certainly seem like quite an eclectic group,” she began, her gaze turned once more toward him. “i expect the date auctions to be nearly as entertaining as a night at the theatre.” at least if the initiates group chat was any indication of how things would go.

though she nodded with a neutral expression on her face, poppy was much more of a traditionalist when it came to paintings; the idea of the basquiat being in her home was anathema. “it is a significant piece,” she acknowledged with a tilt of her head. “is there a certain piece in your collection you would consider a favorite?”

she very nearly snorted at the slight against edward, though she stopped herself and instead arched an eyebrow as her lips turned up at the corners in a more genuinely amused expression. “and his taste in art is only marginally better than his taste in women.” she took another long sip from her glass. “i believe he once tried to tell me he could replicate the kandinsky hanging in my study using finger paints.”

hugo found himself smiling at her comparison of the auction to theatre. “don’t tell anyone, but i’ve been quietly hoping the auction causes some trouble. everyone’s been on their best behavior tonight and honestly it’s no fun.” sure, this was all for charity. but when had people of the society’s echelon ever cared about charity when it didn’t benefit them?

“i have a late work by frankenthaler. it’s my pride and joy.” his mother joked that she’d never get grandchildren because hugo had no capacity for fondness outside of what he had for grey fireworks which held pride of place in his living room. “or maybe my weiwei coloured vase. it’s a piece of history and a symbol of rebellion all in one.” very few people knew he had one, because if his parents knew he’d used family money to purchase what they’d consider vandalism of chinese history, he’d probably find himself in a sticky situation. “and yours? i’ve heard the royal collection is becoming all the more impressive.”

everything the princess did was so measured, so thought-out. even the arched brow and careful curve of her lips seemed part of some much larger equation that hugo couldn’t even think about solving. “in that case, i’d hate to see the sort of girls he brings home.”  hugo gave her a bemused look. “i’m tempted to block his number from my phone just on principle, hearing that. though i can’t say i’m surprised. i recall him asking me why they put a pollock on display if someone had spilled something on the painting.”  

[hugos]

ophelia‌

When Hugo confirmed his suspicions, Milo peered back at the statue and tilted his head, as if studying it with a bit of a crooked stance would solidify this opinion. Truthfully, he was not particularly interested in the little stone sculpture until Hugo dropped a massive knowledge bomb on him regarding its symbolism.  “Fertility, like babies?” He mused, playing with the thought, “I thought that sort of stuff was to encourage child rearing? Maybe I’m getting everything mixed up though. Wow, you just get better and better every time we meet. I feel like you’ve got a tetrabyte brain and I’m working with dialup.” Ignoring how the comparison didn’t even make sense, he took a sip of his own drink at Hugo’s initiation and beamed, “She’s doing great! She’s here today, actually. She missed her friends so we all decided to come; mama actually told me there is a piece back home she’d like for you to appraise. Something about a manuscript; are those your forte as well?”

"kind of.” hugo chuckled. “that was what it was for, thousands of years ago. but what it means to us now, as a symbol of motherhood, is far more important. nowadays, anyway.” the sleek form of the piece, and its centuries old pedigree was something he could see in olympe’s possession. “not a tetrabyte tonight. i’ve had one too many gin and tonics for it to be functioning at full force right now.” he sucked a breath in through his teeth. “you sell yourself short, milo. seriously.”

“i’ll have to go and say hello. i haven’t seen her since her incident. ” though the news of it had upset him greatly. he owed a great deal of his career to the baptiste’s support in the art world, and had grown fond of them all in that time. “i’ve missed seeing her; and i found some beautiful works for sale in switzerland that i think she’ll love.” hugo tilted his head to one side.  “manuscripts? not really. most of them are too early to be in my area of expertise, but i know some people.” in reality, he knew everyone that was anyone in the arts. “i can ask around for her.” 

[hugos]

theia

while she appreciated the formality ( she might deny it, of course, but poppy knew well what was her birthright ), she waved it off with her free hand and a smile that was more genuine than practiced. “poppy, please,” she told him, her eyes wide as she took another sip from her champagne flute. a laugh, tinkling, soft, and quick, left her lips and she turned more fully to face him. “you have a point. though i would wager a large amount of those gathered here tonight would think this too refined to be considered fun.”

his question gave her pause, for while poppy would very much enjoy a piece like this in her limited collection at clarence house, she also knew that the amount of money spent on it was enough to feed small countries for years. ( there was little poppy did simply because she wished to; duty had long led her life’s choices even if she received no credit for doing so )

“i believe i will be,” she remarked, the words nearly shocking her as they came out of her mouth. a smile punctuated the words, soft and knowing. “i know just the place for it at my home in the cotswolds.” her head tilted. “and you?”

he nodded curtly, glad to be freed from the old-fashioned trappings of tradition that sat a little sour on hugo’s tongue. “they’re the ones who restrain their drinking, or can’t find novelty in watching people squabble over priceless things like children over toys.” he chuckled, looking forward to the annual game of trying to read the looks on the faces of those who were being on to try to gauge joy or disappointment on their winners. last year he’d spotted an eye roll, and he was hoping for even better tells this time around. 

“i was thinking about the basquiat.” he was a voracious collector neo-expressionism, even if basquiat was a little overrated as a figurehead of the movement. “but i promised myself i’d show some restraint tonight. my collecting habits are... getting a little out of control.” the walls of his home were becoming a little too cluttered, so much so that he’d started lending out work to curator friends for exhibitions and as parts of collections just so he could keep his walls at the perfect point of decorated minimalism. 

“i shouldn’t even be standing next to these right now.” he smiled at her. “my self control is about about poor as your brother’s taste in art, in afraid.” 

[hugos]

kharis‌

@hugos

Alessadra walked the halls of the Louvre as though she owned the whole place, her dress fluttering behind her with every stride. Whilst she walked from piece to piece to search for one that caught her attention, she spared her gaze to those around her, inspecting the movement of every initiate with careful calculation, as though saving each breath into her memory. There was no room for error. After some time, she found herself in the presence of the Art Historian, Hugo Teng, and to him she offered a carefully practiced smile. “Diomedes,” she called, the codename carefully enunciated on her tongue. “What do you find of all this art, then? Is there any worthy of being in your collection?”

hugo had always been careful to maintain a polite distance from those in the society who he deemed a slightly of more noble, respectable pedigree than his own. alessandra was certainly one of them, though he admired her philanthropy and her impeccable manner of dressing from afar. “kharis.” he replied with a polite nod. “it’s certainly an impressive collection of lots. the basquiat i like. or the darger.” he shrugged, taking a considered sip of his drink that was far stronger than one he should be consuming at an event like this. “maybe the van renesslaer, as a new name in my collection. i haven’t decided yet.” an impish smile came to his lips. “i suppose i should ask you what you’re planning to bid on, i don’t have any intentions of trying to outbid you, and i’ll not lie, probably not the means either.” he chuckled under his breath, offering her an easy smile.