lizholbrook - Tumblr blog

[lizholbrook]

     where: outside of station izaak was brought to < 3      with: @miloritter​​

     Ask anyone who knows anything about her: they’ll tell you Liz Holbrook cannot stay in her own fucking lane. Perhaps born out of her absolute rage at the mere sight of injustice or originated in her combative teenage years, she simply had to be there. At the protest, sign held high, throat sore after chanting for hours, feet aching for some rest; and now, leaving the station where everyone involved in the conflict was being held. She had been lucky, she hadn’t been arrested, or cuffed, or beaten, and that meant she followed the police cars as closely as she could to get information about others who weren’t as privileged as herself.

     “You have a light?” After digging through the pockets of her cargo pants, with a heavy sigh of exhaustion, she simply asked the person leaning against the wall beside her. “Friend or family?” she wondered, nodding towards the precinct building.

[lizholbrook]

jjbaptiste​:

It feels like a trip back to his roots. Tonight, Jacques feels himself in the skin of a man who’s truly interested — quite literally putting his money where his mouth is. It’s reminiscent of earlier years; true passion everywhere, a wish to blow certain visions wider, to represent across state lines. When cash started to win over, purpose followed suit — and faded accordingly. But profit was at a record high.

There’s no telling, if Liz will equal profit yet. But it’s matter for later. “Merci,” he says off the wine. “Ha. I do, wanna see it. But ain’t it odd — I did, just trust ya.” Pretty girls, and their charms. Hand in a pocket, he follows her further inside. “Yeah — great fan of the arts. But I haven’t, invested in a beat. It’s unpredictable, and lots of it don’t pay off. ” Art is only art to some — and to others, garbage. Such nuances don’t exist in just about every other field. “You got me craving it again. We met at the right place, in the right time.” 

.

     Wine glass tilted up towards her lips, Liz sipped on her beverage and patiently listened to him. He wasn’t wrong -- she knew how art and money worked ( or, rather, didn’t work ) together, but Liz Holbrook was determined to make a living out of it. Comissions were only fulfilling for so long, but she craved something larger, something that would put her name on everyone’s lips and her paintings, on everyone’s walls. More importantly, she needed to prove to everyone else that this wasn’t a phase -- that art was truly her passion.

     “Specially with people of color,” glass tilted to clink against his as if to stress her point. “That’s who I paint for and why I paint, and that’s who I want to open a gallery for.” Business talk didn’t come as naturally to her as it did to the rest of her family, but she trusted her pieces would do all the necessary convincing. “... We did.” Unafraid to make eye contact and openly smile when their eyes met, Liz gave his arm a squeeze before setting her glass down and walking further into the living room. “These are all sold, but it’s the energy I want in a place I--” correction “you’d own. It’s all about identity, y’know?”

[lizholbrook]

ahclbrook​

“Ari always calls me back.” The unspoken addition to that statement being: Unlike you. But Angelina held that back, that didn’t seem like the best way to get Liz to speak to her, “I like seeing both of you, believe it or not.” She would bet that her eldest doesn’t believe it, she always seemed to assume the worst of the mayor and her intentions. And though it may have been deserved, Angelina would never willingly admit that. 

“Creating? Anything good?” She asked. She wasn’t trying to be condescending. She thought Liz was talented, she just didn’t necessarily see her career as a legitimate one. She lifted her eyebrows at the younger Holbrook then, giving her a shrug, “Yes. I’m the mayor, am I not allowed to be around the city I run? That’s part of the gig.” She knew that Liz knew quite well the requirements of the gig- she’d had to watch it all her life, “I would have called ahead, but would you have answered?” Angelina asked her, pursing her lips just slightly. 

.

     Once more, the point flew right over her mother’s head. Fine. “Of course she does.” It’s a fact, yes, but there’s a bitterness in Liz’s tone -- for once, however, not directed at Angelina, but at her sister, instead. It’s a complicated relationship the young women had. And, furthermore, it wasn’t so much that Liz didn’t believe her mother wanted to see her ( and... She didn’t believe her ) but the fact that she didn’t want to see her mother. And she believed she had the right to state such a fact however many times was necessary. “You’re seeing me right now.”

     It didn’t matter whether Angelina meant to sound condescending, Liz could never hear anything she said in a different tone. “Yes. It’s great, actually.” A pause. “You wouldn’t get it.” Salt in the wound and whatnot. “Please.” If she’d rolled her eyes harder, they would have fallen off her skull. “You’re allowed to to whatever you want. Except show up at my home uninvited.” To be fair to Angelina, if she’d waited for an invitation, she never would have seen the inside of Liz’s apartment. 

     “I wouldn’t have picked up because I was sleeping.” Also, she wouldn’t have wanted to talk to her. “... Well, this has been great, and you should go now.”

[lizholbrook]

     where: liz’s apartment      with: @jjbaptiste​

     The apartment wasn’t usually tidy and it wasn’t today, either. Oil paint splatter on the strategically placed plastic floor cover, canvases against and on top every possible surface, and finished works facing the walls to maintain the privacy of her art, this was the setting for their second meeting. The first, still admittedly a little blurry in her mind, had held the promise of an investment; this one, if all went well, would secure such a loan. Liz hadn’t met with many potential investors before, but she had met a lot of very wealthy people in her life, and she liked to think she knew what they liked. Someone who thought about signing a check for art had to at least want to see what his money would be buying before.

     Two glasses and a bottle of red wine retrieved from the kitchen and set on the small table by the front door for easy access. With the beverage already poured, all she had to do was open the door to welcome him inside and lift one of the glasses up to his hand with a smile. “I’m really glad you could make it,” and it showed, too. “I thought maybe you’d like to see what I do before...” Pause, as she led him inside and towards the makeshift studio in the living room. “Are you usually interested in funding the arts?”

[lizholbrook]

ahclbrook​:

“Hello to you too.” Angelina deadpanned, looking over her daughter’s attire as she opened the door. She decided against saying anything- she had shown up unannounced, of course, “I would have gotten nowhere in career if not for my persistence.” She told Liz as she followed her inside, pulling the door shut behind her. Angelina hadn’t been here in quite awhile and so her eyes traveled over her surroundings as she walked into the apartment, “I’m here because I haven’t spoken to you since the fundraiser. Am I not allowed to want to see my daughter?” She asked, sliding her phone into her Birkin, attention on her daughter, “I was in the neighborhood,” she lied, “and I figured I’d stop by to see how you were.” 

.

     To the untrained eye, the inside of Liz’s apartment might look unorganized, but blank and used canvases leaning against every wall, empty pots of oil paint and brushes scattered on every surface were the rule, not the exception. Liz unwillingly listened to her mother, quickly disappearing into her bedroom only long enough that she could shimmy her way into some pants and switch her shirt for something she hadn’t slept in. “Of course you’re allowed to want to see your daughter. Has Ari not called you back?” she let out a snort at her own joke, hands coming up to try and fix the mess that had become her hair. 

     Hands on her hips, she stood in front of Angelina and tilted her head at the woman. “Well, I’m doing great. Alive and fed and showered and-- creating.” That’s what she’d call last night. “Is that what you wanted?” If she didn’t have a messive headache, she would have pressed further. “And, I’m sorry-- you were in the neighborhood?”

[lizholbrook]

@ziggyhawthorne on liz’s instagram stories

send 📷 for a post of your muse on my muse’s instagram

ANDREA | AVA | ALAN | LIZ

[lizholbrook]

[lizholbrook]

jjbaptiste​:

“Poetry don’t, pay no bills,” he says, like a man who might just be speaking from experience — but isn’t. Jacques has an appreciation for art, but no true understanding, nor talent, when it comes to the brush or lens. Therefore, within him lies the responsibility of funding instead. The most he can do. “I’mma businessman. And I got an eye for things that need’a be seen in the world. Something about’cha, I think you got that type of fire I like to watch burn.” Hand in his, Jacques’s fingers slowly wrap around soft knuckles. “I got a whole world — underground.” And anything else you want. “You’re welcome in it.” 

.

     Those precise words were the ones she’d been after since she’d arrived -- a business person with a few bills to spare who would trust her with spending them. Liz had a pitch, a short but, in her opinion, strong speech she’d prepared on her way to the event, that she’d repeated to a few unimpressed potential donors earlier. As he spoke, the room around them seemed to be miles away. “I need people to see--” she interrupted herself, looked back at their hands and nodded shortly. “I have so much to show to the world,” she promised. This wasn’t what she’d practiced, but it was the only thing that seemed to be working. With a confident step closer, Liz tilted her face to search for his gaze with her own. “Take me there. Underground. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

[lizholbrook]

reza-hajsadi​:

location: a bar / club of your choosing

He’d have been feeling much better at home, alone, than enduring this not-so-impromptu party with the Late Show crew members, but this was something they did with the former hosts, and Reza didn’t want to be known among them as the guy who thought himself better than others, the guy who didn’t want to spend time with the staff because they were beneath him. Never mind that he didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in his hand, the moment you made it, you were suddenly a whole different person.

And, he really did enjoy spending extra time with them, but if they asked him one more time to tell the story of the beat-boxing creep, he would snap.

“I… think I’m gonna get another one of these signature cocktails,” tasted like someone poured limonade on orange bitters and called it a day. It was unimpressive, but he was too bored to care at this point. Heading to the counter before his assistant magically summoned a drink in his hand (what do you mean, the woman wasn’t a witch?), Reza took a look at his surroundings, eyes settling on the person to his left. “Looks like someone’s having a great time.”

.

     Liz didn’t make it a habit to go out for a drink on her own -- but, sometimes, she had a plan and life had a different one, and so tonight found her sitting at the bar, lazily stirring a rather bland cocktail. After a few sips, she’d decided that it worked better as entertainment than as a beverage. 

     She had turned down a few people who’d approached her with the intent of opening a conversation, and she was ready to do it again -- until she saw who was standing beside her. “Shut up,” she scoffed, putting her straw down and forcing herself to turn on her seat to face him, instead. “I thought you’d have a crowd of groupies begging for your attention -- is the show not doing that well lately?” she teased him with a friendly nudge to his arm. Liz looked back behind her shoulder to the large gathering a few feet away from them. “’Re those your people?” Too loud for her taste. “They look-- fun.” A pointed look to indicate she meant anything but.

[lizholbrook]

ahclbrook​:

a starter for @lizholbrook​  location: liz’s apartment (in the evening???) 

After not hearing from her eldest daughter for a few days- which wasn’t unheard of, Angelina was just insane- she decided it was best to just go see Liz herself. Not to apologize for their… conversation at the gala or anything like, she was mostly going just to check in. To attempt to spend that extra time she had told Liz that she wanted- without the pressure of some event. 

She knocked on the door and waited. Announcing herself, she feared, would cause her daughter not to answer the door at all. 

.

     There are missed calls and unanswered messages and, of course, the family group chat -- all left completely unattended by Liz. Although she hadn’t participated willingly in the past, after the gala she’d purposefully let Angelina go straight to voicemail. It wasn’t a fit, it wasn’t a tantrum, it wasn’t even a call for attention -- it was her not wanting to talk to her mother. Of course, bliss could only last so long. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she wasn’t properly dressed to greet any guests but that didn’t stop her from swinging the door open. 

     Big, oversized shirt, no pants, unmanaged bun and a headache from last night’s hangover was not how she would have chosen to see Angelina again; it was also, she suspected, not how her mother would have wanted to see her, either. “Jesus,” she groaned, leaving the door open and walking back into her apartment. “Don’t you ever just give up? What are you doing here?” If there was one thing she could count on at the moment was the fact that Angelina would walk in right behind her.

[lizholbrook]

ziggyhawthorne​:

At her insistence to borrow the watch, his lips curve into a secret smile. True, it’s a silly little fashion statement that suggests a certain childlike quality, equal parts whimsical and innocently artless. But the truth is that it’s a token of memory, something to remind him that in another life, there’s a cute girl with a black-haired bob cheering him on and ready to punch out anyone who ever doubted him.

For the moment, all this is better left unsaid, and so he simply smiles at Liz in response, and when she leads, he follows. There’s a brief thought to take in his surroundings, to admire the magnificence of it all and comment on an opulence that’s distantly familiar in an uncomfortable sort of way ( cue the endless chorus of a life not lived, forever ago. ) Instead, he beelines to the window, and the city’s lights come through as though seen through a blurry film, hazy but present. The office’s atmosphere altogether is dimmed in comparison to the hustle inside Gotham Hall and the bustle immediately outside it, but more than this: Liz is an easy air around which to breathe, and his relief voices itself as a long, low exhale of a sigh.

Lost in the first real moment of relaxation he’s had all evening, Ziggy takes too long to crack open the window, and so the brunette does so for him — for them both, really, given the very reason they’ve entered the office. True to artistic form, another grand idea’s seemingly taken hold of her, as evidenced by her newfound paper and pencil. “Something tells me you’re not gonna let be escaping quite so easily,” he chuckles lightly, the corners of his smile marked by an unsure curiosity. Dark eyes drift from her well-practiced hand to her countenance, now illuminated quite prettily even in the yellow-grey haze of the outside world. There’s another short laugh when he realizes he’s looked at her for perhaps a little too long, and Zig pulls himself away to the fireplace. Jokingly, he explains, “Draw me like your French girls all you want, but you are not gonna immortalize how ashy I must look from that window light.” 

With that, the fireplace is lit, and before long, the end of the blunt is, as well. Under another circumstance, she would have been offered the first inhale, but his own artistic mind dictates that he’s in need of a little extra if he’s to be her subject tonight. “Coulda just told me you were in need of a new muse, you know. We could’ve…” The words he wants to say here fail, and instead he only offers, joint extended out to her, “I don’t know, gotten into some good trouble for the sake of art, like, way sooner.”

.

     Too deep in her almost furious scribbling of lines to catch his stance, Liz didn’t realize he had moved away from the window and towards the fireplace until he spoke. Head tilted up, eyes scanned the room and finally she spun around to face him again. There’s a large armchair Liz claimed as her own by draping her blazer over its back and allowing her full weight to collapse onto the carefully organized cushions. “Yeah, actually-- you just ruined it.” She was joking, not evident in her tone but in the way her hand kept woking the graphite over the paper. Knees bended, she rested her canvas of choice against her thighs for support -- and to keep Zig from seeing her progress. 

     Peeking over her knees, with the excuse of needing to remember his exact proportions for his likeness to translate well to the paper, Liz caught herself staring a little too intensely, as well. The smoke blew around him seemed to almost stop time on its tracks. The cloud soon dissipated but, in her mind, she could still see it. With a very light pressure, she added a curved line around his figure to remind herself where it should be positioned on a larger canvas. 

     Back in reality, she unfolded her legs and leaned over to take the joint from his grasp and place it securely between her own lips. With a chuckle, she took a drag and kept the smoke in for a moment before blowing it out in his general direction. “I think we got in our fair share of trouble-- maybe not in the name of art, though, that’s true.” She’d give him that. After a second drag, she gave it back and resumed her sketching process. “So what are you doing here? Not donating, right?” The mere thought made her laugh. “Or did you just want an excuse to wear that? You look good, by the way.” A pause. “A checkered blazer at a black-tie event. You’re quite the rule-breaker, Ziggy Hawthorne, aren’t ya?”

[lizholbrook]

jjbaptiste​:

“Overprotective or some, ‘favourites’ shit going on?” He asks though a short laugh. “Only child,” — some say that’s obvious — “so I, wouldn’t know.” 

As she leans in, Jacques takes the cue to do so also, even going as far as lowering slightly, as though to level himself to her ear. Secrets, and all. “Free of charge,” he whispers, but the fine-print reads clear: for now. “You ever been to Harlem?” Here comes a large hand offered then, palm with enough space just for hers. “Much better t’ breathe, up North. Why not fly there for the winter?”

.

     The bigger the warning sign, the more likely Liz was to ignore it -- the rule had applied to Harlem in the past and it applied to him, now. Free of charge. That lesson had stuck with her: there wasn’t such a thing. But his hand was inviting an, soon, her palm rested atop of his, cautios and curious. “What are you, some kind of poet?” she inquired. That was a kind of art that didn’t precisely open doors to fundraiser galas. Liz knew she had no problem up and leaving, but others weren’t so quick to turn their backs. A gentle squeeze to his hand and a warm grin. “What else you got?” 

[lizholbrook]

elisavargas​:

“Of course,” she agreed with Liz after a moment, amused. “They just don’t usually come out and say it.” She was oblivious as to who she was talking about, or else she might have been more likely to mince her words - hold back on her feelings. All she really saw was the agreement. “I guess I’m just… a bit of a people-watcher. Especially when I’m bored.” Toying with her cigarette to adjust it better between her fingers, she shrugged. “…Somewhere people aren’t so repressed. Where they don’t feel like they need to be on their best behavior in their fanciest clothes and flaunt their money.” She held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I like a little dazzle as much as the next girl. But when people are so rich they don’t know what to do with it? They get… sort of boring.”

.

     “You’d be surprised.” An answer too prompt to pass off aas meaningless. Liz shrugged, took another drag from her cigarette. “I take it you’re not big on politics, huh?” she chuckled. Liz wasn’t judging her -- in fact, she very strongly agreed. A room full of people tooting their own horns was hardly her definition of a good time. She made a pause, looked down at her feet, and then back up at the woman. “How would you have made it less boring?” If it had been up to Liz, she would have cut the speeches and turned the music up.

[lizholbrook]

artisticroseism​:

Rosalie had just finished a date, a rather awkward date that to be honest she was glad was over. She didn’t want to be mean but it seemed every date she had been on since having a daughter was a disaster, had a witch cursed her in her dating life. The guy wasn’t nice, staring at the waitress and making disrespectful comments about her and the waitress. She would need three showers just to wash the memory off of her. She stopped when she heard the stranger and she turned her head and her gaze met the strangers then the piece of art and there was a brightness in her eyes and a smile on her lips. She walked over to get a better look at it “ it’s stunning, you really captured her beauty and that era ” she admitted with a smile before rummaging in her purse to pull out a business card and handing it to the woman. 

“ I have a gallery and I’m always looking to feature upcoming artists and this is beautiful work, I’d love for you to display some at the gallery if you’d like of course.”

.

     The compliment was welcomed with a heavy sigh and the back of her hand wiping off the exhaustion off her forehead -- what was unexpected, however, was the business card extended to her. Liz stared for a moment at the small piece of paper as if she didn’t know what it was before actually taking it from the woman. Surely this stranger meant well, but Liz still couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “I’m not an up-and-coming artist,” she stressed. She had, what, a decade of consistently producing art under her belt? Still, she slid the business card into the back pocket of her pants. “Where’s your gallery?” Maybe she would have heard of it, though the woman didn’t exactly look like the type of crowd Liz usually surrounded herself with. “And what kind of artists do you have?”

[lizholbrook]

rep-ashtonortega​:

    “I don’t read everything, but this?” He slapped his hand on a pile of folders and binders, got up, and headed toward the door to grab his coat and his umbrella. “This, I know the rest of congress will try me.” Because this was how the Republicans managed to win. They searched for the one flaw in your plan, and then they kept on pulling on that loose thread. “But, I could use a break.”

And the congressman followed her outside, a bright pink post it note left on his assistant’s laptop to let her know of his whereabouts.

“Oh absolutely,” he smiled. “It’s all those stale pastries and room temperature water bottles they give me at meetings,” crinkles at the corner of his eyes, he found himself shaking with light laughter. Corruption wasn’t necessarily a laughable subject, but the idea that he could let himself be corrupted was. Only his wife would have managed to bring him down, but only under the threat of being deprived of her attention and presence, and only with household chores or visiting friends at stake. It was silly. He often found he liked those parties once he got there. But the idea of going to dinner parties? Insurmountable. “Liv? She’s good. Always busy,” with charity work, of course, but also with her career. They were both quite busy, as they refused to put their careers on hold for the convenience of the other. “I’m sure she’d love it if you stopped by the house sometimes,” of course, Ashton would too.

“What about you? What’s up? Anything new?”

.

     Though she liked Ashton and evidently believed in what he preached, Liz had to admit that this wasn’t a social visit. A coffee offer and a polite check-in on his family was a must, but her goals for this interaction were professional. Hopefully, he’d indulge her that much. “I’ll give her a call tomorrow. We missed each other the last few times.” Two busy, working women. Granted ,his wife was a lot busier and working a lot more than Liz herself, but she digressed. 

     “Well,” an award-winning smile slapped on her face, she grabbed their order and took a sip from her own coffee as she handed him his cup and slice of cake. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Surely, she wasn’t the only person who thought she could ask him for a favor. “You know the abandoned building like three blocks that way?” Index finger pointed behind his back in the direction she meant. “What do you think about turning that into a city cultural center?” 

[lizholbrook]

LIZ HOLBROOK at the 2022 met gala

joined by ziggy hawthorne

[lizholbrook]

🍻+ “ tell me about your first kiss ?”

Liz chuckles. "Funny you should ask. My best friend and I were going through my parents' closet-- they'd taken away my MP3 player for whatever reason, I don't know. I had the biggest fucking crush on her and she kissed me. In my parents' room." Pause. "She was my first girlfriend, too."