#Charles the second painter

[bottegapowerpoint]

Peter Lely, Sir William Ashburnham

[maxlarens]

Hi, I have a smau request for Charles (based on c.ai bot lol, and the fact that I love painting), so the reader is invited by her friends to a house for vacation, her friends are all with their s/o and they also always try to set up reader with someone, that's when her and Charles meet, and reader finally gives it a chance because she knows her friends won't stop to set her up. They talk for a whole evening about what they do in life (reader is an artist/painter) and they get along really well. Eventually they get together and reader is very liked by the public, even if there will always be haters, but most fans thinks she's just very adorable (especially because of her insta/twitter posts)

CL: slip up and i call you baby

pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader

summary: you love your friends, you really do. you just wish they’d stop trying so hard to set you up with random guys. [smau + written fic] (read on: ao3) (part 2)

fc: faceless

word count: 5.1k

warnings: mild sexual references

a/n: this is such a cute idea! thank u so much for sending it in!! u will not believe how much this idea gripped me like i never write one shots like this its just unheard of for me if im honest. anyway i know u asked for a smau so i will be doing a second part/continuation to this that is solely an smau to make up for that. (ALSO sorry for disappearing i was super sick for the whole week and have been getting my shit back together in the aftermath😭)

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Amalfi Coast, Italy

You’ve never been particularly boy crazy. At least not the same way your friends are.

There have been a few not-quite boyfriend’s over the years, but those relationships never last long. They never really get you, or they never really get the art thing. Which means, of course, that they don’t get you and never will— and that’s fine, you’re content with that. If living for your art means you’ll never be in love then so be it and frankly, good riddance to them.

For the most part, you’ve given up trying. You go on a few dates here and there, but you never let them stick around. Even the ones that seem interested in your paintings you don’t bother with— none of them really seem to be able to grasp what art truly is to you. It isn’t just paint on a canvas, it’s living, it’s breathing. You are only yourself with a way to make art.

It’s difficult to put into words.

So you don’t. Instead, you send texts that say ‘thanks for your time but this isn’t working out’ and you keep the men your friends try to set you up with at arm's length. You placate Chloe and her partner Rowan– who collects friends like they’re Pokémon– with, “he wasn’t my type” and “I’m not looking for a relationship right now”, which you suppose is true, but also isn’t the entirety of it. Yet, every time without fail, there’s a new boy at the scene of the crime.

Chloe doesn’t get it, none of your friends get it. You don’t try to explain it to them. So, y’know, here you are again.

Anyway, here’s the thing: they’re getting closer. Inexplicably, without knowing how you really feel about it all, Chloe and Rowan are getting better and better at picking the boys who are able to tempt you. Which is a pain really, because sometimes you’re trying to have a perfectly nice vacation in Italy without the lure of a boy you can’t let yourself have. But alas, these things generally don’t go your way.

You should know that by now.

Charles Leclerc is bang on the money, he really is. He is unbearably cute, like so cute that you have to leave the room when he walks in, because you don’t trust yourself to be in close proximity to him right now. You have a hard time looking at his face when you are forced to be around him. The dimples when he smiles, the squint of his eyes even when he isn’t. If you look too long you’re liable to stare and that wouldn’t lead to anything good at all.

He’s nice as well. So nice, just like Chloe told you. You try to pretend he doesn’t exist and he still asks you questions about your job and the area of Monaco you live in— like he’s even interested, like he’ll remember you two weeks from now. You try your best to be pleasant, to answer without it being like pulling teeth, and to ask questions of him as well. You’ll probably see him again after this, so best to not to go too far and act like you hate him. It’s difficult though, toeing the line between friendly and encouraging of more. Or it feels difficult for you. Charles doesn’t make even the slightest suggestion of the two of you being set up by your nosy friends. That’s unbearable too. Part of you wishes he’d just make a clumsy pass at you so you can rebuff it and make your intentions abundantly clear. But, obviously, he doesn’t, because he’s perfect or something.

It sucks. You hate him, you think.

Or you want to.

On the second day of the trip, you’re on the villa’s private beach, laying in the hot sun. Chloe, Anaïs and Bea are there; everyone else is either still sleeping off the wine from last night or swimming in the glittering ocean. You’ve got a secondhand book, a 2B pencil and a pair of sunglasses over your eyes. You’re trying to read but you just end up doodling, drawing your friends bikini-clad bodies over the text and shading grapes into the margins. Trying desperately not to accidentally put Charles Leclerc’s dimples, messy hair, or sloped nose to paper.

“So,” Chloe says conspiratorially, as you abort an attempt at drawing a slightly squinted eye with thick lashes, “What do you think of Charles?”

You raise an eyebrow carefully at her over your sunglasses, betraying nothing of your inner turmoil, “I think nothing.”

Anaïs laughs, rolling onto her back, “That’s such shit. You practically sprint away from him everytime he comes near.”

“I do not,” you answer too quickly.

Anaïs laughs again, louder. Chloe joins in and Bea raises her eyebrows at you like you’re a fucking liar. You frown, glaring a little before stubbornly turning your head back to your book. The conversation about Charles ends there, but unfortunately your actions have spoken for themselves. A chill of something like panic chitters up your spine and into your shoulders. You have to roll them to make the feeling go away.

As the sun climbs higher in the sky you lose some people to the heat and gain others. It’s just you and Chloe sweating onto your towels when Rowan and Charles finally give up on whatever game they were playing in the ocean. Rowan collapses unceremoniously into the space between you and Chloe, kicking up sand and getting water droplets all over you like he’s a wet dog. You let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and an exasperated groan as you roll away from him, landing in the sand.

“Watch it,” you cry, “You’re getting my book all wet.”

Rowan laughs, “You’re drawing in it!”

“So.”

He pulls a face at you that makes you roll your eyes; then he turns into Chloe, shoving his face into her collarbone and flinging limbs over her. You snort, leaning over to snag the book off your towel before it gets dragged into the mess that Rowan is causing. You’re about to get up and go inside until you realise Charles is still standing there. Has, in fact, been standing there since Rowan ran over. Your breath catches, heart skipping a beat as you look up to find him standing there.

“Hey,” you smile briefly at him, quickly looking away from his damp hair and bare chest (–which is difficult to do because, holy shit–) so you can gather up your towel.

“Hi,” he replies.

He might smile back. You don’t look. You’re trying to get the image of his washboard abs out of your head. This proves difficult when you clamber to your feet and find yourself face to face with him.

“Are you heading back?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

God, you want to kick yourself. You’re being so awkward, and right in front of Chloe too, who may not be watching but is absolutely listening to you make a fool of yourself in front of a guy you have very firmly said that you are not interested in. It must be clear to him too, that you’re trying very deliberately to not be interested in him. You cant tell what would be worse; if that means he’ll think you’re a weirdo or if it means he’ll take it as a sign that he should make some kind of move.

Ugh.

“I’ll come with you?”

“Hmm,” you blink yourself back into existence, seeing the questioning look on Charles’ face, “Yes, yeah. Sorry.”

You say goodbye to Chloe and Rowan who barely look away from one another, still rolling around in the sand like teenagers.

“Gross,” you say to Charles, as the two of you trudge through hot sand toward the sandstone steps that lead up to the villa.

He laughs, a breathy thing that tapers off with a sigh, “A bit, yes.”

You don’t say anything else, but you find yourself staring at his back and the way his muscles shift and move underneath his tanned skin. At the top of the stairs you part ways, he smiles at you and you offer something awkward in return, trying to pretend you hadn’t been looking at him. You don’t think he notices, but your cheeks red burn anyway.

You don’t see him watching you leave.

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Amalfi Coast, Italy

Dinner is a huge affair, as it always is on these trips.

You, Anaïs and Chloe spend three hours in the kitchen that afternoon making chicken fricassée and about a hundred different side dishes to go with it. Everyone crowds around the dinner table to eat and drink even more wine than the night before. Piero Piccioni plays on the old record player, crackling away as you laugh and talk and tell stories with your friends well into the night. You watch the sun set through floor-to-ceiling glass windows and you wish wish wish that you had your paints right now.

You brought along a set of oil pastels and one of your art notebooks, but it doesn’t compare at all to painting. If you could get your hands on cadmium yellow in all it’s hues, maybe vermillion and a powder blue, your lack of paintbrush or canvas wouldn’t even matter. You’d use your fingers if you needed to. It bothers you so much that you get up in the middle of clearing away the meal and go to your room for the pastels and notebook. You need to get it on a page at least.

You push a few plates to the side, folding out your notebook and immediately marking the page up with a creamy white pastel. Bea teases you when she comes over to take the rest of the dirty dishes, but you just mumble something unintelligible, too engrossed with smudging the sunset into something that looks like what you’d seen out the window. When the oranges and yellows blend to your satisfaction you take the black and brown and draw in the top of your friends’ heads, not thinking about how much attention to detail you’re paying to the shape of Charles’ side profile.

When you’re finished, you’re surprised to see that the table is cleared save for a few half-full wine glasses and a fresh bottle. Only Chloe, Rowan and Charles are still sitting by you. You’re listening to another Piero Piccioni album now, or maybe just the other side of the record. You remember saying goodnight to the others and saying yes to a glass of wine, so you’ve not been totally dead to the world, but it’s all in a bit of a haze.

You think this might be part of the reason why you can’t hold down a boyfriend. The disappearing into your art like you cant breathe until it’s finished. That may as well be the case if you’re honest.

You sigh, wiping your stained fingers on the next blank page, then you take a long sip from your glass of merlot, pretending you dont notice the others’ eyes on you.

“All done?” Chloe quips, somewhere on the border of teasing and being annoyed at you.

You look at her, your eyes just narrowing enough for her to notice. She does and purses her lips. You raise an eyebrow to ask okay, what’s your fucking problem? And you see her eyes flash to Charles. You follow her gaze to see him and Rowan pretending to look disinterested in your answer. Charles is tracing the base of his wine glass and absently biting the inside of his mouth. You have to tear your eyes away.

“All done,” you answer, tone clipped, before gathering your things (including the wine glass) and leaving the room in a move you hope doesn’t come off as too rude.

At your back you hear Rowan ask Chloe, “What was that?”

Chloe means well, you think as you wind through the villa, making your way to the balcony overlooking the private beach. She wants you to be happy and she thinks you need a boyfriend to be happy. But she’d found the love of her life in Rowan after only a few years of dating around and she doesn’t quite understand that it’s never going to work like that for you. There aren’t enough people out there that understand the kind of passion you have for your art and certainly not many that would also be compatible with you. You’re fine with that, but Chloe doesn’t know what to do with it. Especially not now she’s cottoned onto the fact that you have some kind of interest in Charles. It’s killing her.

It’s irrelevant though, whatever interest you have in Charles doesn’t factor into anything. He’s cute, he’s nice, but so were the dozen boys that you’ve already dated and not continued dating. So really, Chloe needs to stop pushing it because it’s pissing you off. You’re here for a holiday, not to be forced into conversations with a guy you don’t know. If she needs to have an argument to finally understand that, then so be it. You’ve been friends for years, it’ll blow over eventually.

You flick a switch and blinking lights illuminate the balcony. Fairy lights are wound up the posts and draped on the awning, intertwining with the lush green vines that have grown up through the wood slats. The air is balmy and the breeze light as you settle into one of two cushioned chairs situated by a coffee table. It’s perfect. You spread the oil pastels out next to your glass of wine and set your open notebook on your crossed legs, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

You’re alone for what feels like a long time but is probably only an hour or two.

When the sliding door clunks open you expect it to be Chloe coming over to have it out, but it’s not. Instead, Charles slips through the gap with the rest of the wine gripped in one hand.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling at you in a way that makes dimples carve in his cheeks, and dashing any hopes you have that he’d walk right past you.

“Hey,” you forget yourself for a moment and bite your lip on a broad smile.

He holds the bottle out toward you, offering more. You lean over your notebook and hold your empy wine glass up in acceptance.

“Merci,” you say, and in a moment of weakness (and probable wine drunk-ness) you gesture at the plush chair across from you.

Charles, somewhat caught off guard, looks between your outstretched hand, the chair, and your face, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly and finally taking a seat. Despite his apparent shock, you find it hard to believe he’d come out here simply to offer you some of the last of the wine. Surely, this is Chloe and Rowan’s doing. Though, strangely, you cant quite bring yourself to care.

He sets the bottle on the coffee table, next to your oil pastels. You lean forward to place a few back in their rightful spots, snagging your wine glass as you go.

Charles eyes’ scan your face for a moment, searching for something you suppose, then he points at your notebook, “Have you been drawing?”

You nod, “Mmm.”

You think perhaps the answer is a bit obvious. He seems to realise this, you watch a blush spread onto the top of his cheeks and he flutters his eyelids slightly, almost like rolling his eyes at himself. You don’t think about his eyelashes, thick and dark as they brush against his cheekbone, and you don’t think about his eyes, the lights reflecting off them, making them sparkle.

“What are you drawing then?” he asks after a moment of collecting himself, an edge of embarrassment to his voice.

You give in easily to the strange urge you have to show him, grabbing the notebook off your lap and holding it out for him to see what you’d been scribbling in the book for the past two hours. You let him take it off your hands, ignoring the spike of anxiety. He holds it gingerly, like it's a precious artefact (of course, to you, it is), which makes something warm bloom in your chest. You take a sip of wine and gesture for him to flip through a few pages, which he seems hesitant to do without permission. The book is angled in such a way that you can see most of the page, so you’re content to let him. Or at least you are until he flips to the page you’d started when you’d first come out here.

Panic drops like a stone in your gut because he’s looking right at a fully rendered drawing of his eyes. It’s in amongst some pillars strung with lights and covered in climbing vines; your best attempt at capturing the way the beach looked earlier in the day; and, perhaps your saving grace, Chloe half asleep on her towel. But the drawing of her is haphazard, it’s half-scribbled and half-finished, whereas the one of Charles eyes’ is as detailed as the sunset scene you’d done the page before. It had been something you just needed to get out, drawn in one of those hazes of yours. You’d felt better after it was done, your hands had stopped feeling like they were itchy.

Now, you itch to snatch the notebook off him, but you fear that would be even more incriminating. So you watch him look at the page and try to sit with the panicked feeling spreading in your chest.

Eventually, he points at the page, “Is this me?”

You bite your lip, breathing slowly through your nose to try and abate the blush spreading up your neck. You don’t say anything exactly, just shrug and rock your head back and forth in a kind of confirmation that doesn’t really admit anything. Though, there’s no denying the drawing is him.

“It’s good,” he says, seemingly stumbling over the words, “It’s very good.”

You frown into your drink, “Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

You know he means it. It’s not that.

“Yes,” you put down the wine glass, looking at him but avoiding eye contact, “I know. I know it’s good. I’m just… I’m embarrassed,” you admit.

He furrows his eyebrows– or it’s more that he squints and his eyebrows fold in with it. You watch his tongue dart out to run across the top of his bottom lip and you stamp down the less than innocent thoughts that come bubbling up at that. He waves the hand that’s not still holding carefully onto your notebook about for a moment, trying to conjure up words that he doesn’t have yet.

Slowly, he says, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I– It’s–”

He’s about to say flattering, so you cut him off, not wanting to hear the tone of it, whether it be pity or something else entirely.

You try to explain yourself, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Like after dinner,” you reach forward and flip the page back one, to the sunset, “I have to get it onto paper. Or… or… it just runs laps in my head for the rest of eternity, I guess. I don’t stop thinking about it.”

You cringe internally. You’ve just told him that you were so consumed by thoughts of his eyes that you had to draw them immediately. That is perhaps worse than just wanting to draw him because you thought he was cute. Charles raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your admission, but there’s perhaps also something sincere in there? You can’t pinpoint it, but it makes you feel a fraction better you think.

You sigh forlornly, “That’s weirder, huh?”

He laughs, properly laughs, and it sends some strange feeling skittering down your spine, “No. No, I get it. I don’t have any way to get it down as quickly as I’d like, but I definitely understand the feeling.”

You bite the inside of your lip, hesitant but still curious, “You understand the feeling? Really?”

“Yes,” he smiles easily now, relaxing more in the chair after he places your notebook onto the counter with a cautiousness you still don’t expect, “For me, with racing, it’s like I get an idea and I can’t sleep until I try it on track or talk about it with someone. Some of them don’t work, or aren’t possible, which is fine, but if it sounds right to me and it checks out with the people that it needs to, then, well, then it literally does run laps in my head.”

You laugh, mostly to yourself. You’re not sure yet if he understands what you’re saying, but he’s trying. That’s more than you can say for a lot of people. You try not to let that thought linger for too long.

“You think it’s similar?” you ask in a way you desperately hope comes across as curious and not accusatory.

He hums, waving his hand around again for words, “Perhaps. I think the urgency is the same. The passion is the same. Do you ever feel like something terrible will happen if you can’t–”

“Yes,” you’re a bit breathless in your haste to agree, to talk about this feeling with someone who understands, “Yes. I do. It’s like I need to put it somewhere before I lose it. Otherwise, it won’t be perfect, or it’ll be too late.”

“Exactly,” his eyes seem to light up, for a long second you watch the flickering lights reflect in them, “Exactly.”

“It’s never as good as I want it to be,” you admit, finding it easier to look him in the eye now that some strange barrier between you has been broken, “It’s never quite how I imagine it in my head.”

Charles points at your notebook, “These are very good, really. I don’t see how they could be better. But,” he shrugs, “Eh, I will win a race and still think of everything I did wrong.”

You nod eagerly in understanding as you lean back into the chair, finally relaxing into the cushions. It’s strange to have this conversation, knowing you’re talking about two entirely different careers, but feeling like they’re so similar. Maybe it’s just you and Charles that are similar, maybe your jobs have nothing to do with it? You don’t know, you just know it’s nice to feel like someone gets what you’re talking about.

Charles continues, speaking like he’ll explode if he doesn’t get this off his chest, “It’s there all the time, do you know what I mean? Maybe I’m not thinking about it every second, but it’s always there waiting for something to draw attention to it. And people ask what else is going on in my life, and of course I do other things, and I enjoy other things, but I want to be on the track. I want to be driving whenever I can.”

You nod again, more subdued now, “Mmm, right. I want to be making art all the time, and when I can’t it’s like missing a limb. To me art is– it– it’s like–”

“–breathing,” he finishes, almost the lilt of a question to it, but not really, it’s like he knows exactly what you mean… how you feel.

You exhale, long and slow, “Yeah. Like breathing.”

Both of you are quiet for a little after that. You’re trying not to stare at him, but it’s not easy. He’s looking at you almost blatantly and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks the longer he stares. The air feels thick with some feeling you can’t place. All you know is there are butterflies in your stomach and a smile keeps pulling at the edge of your pursed lips.

The smile takes over as you catch him starry-eyed in your peripheral vision, you mutter, “Stop that. Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

You tip your head back so you can’t see him looking at you, “Because.”

“Because?” he laughs breathily, shaking his head at you, “Okay, well, tell me if I’m misreading anything, but I’m pretty sure that drawing of me in your notebook says something, at least.”

You run a hand down your face, sighing loudly, “Yes, okay. I suppose it does. But– I–” for a moment you struggle for the right words to explain yourself, “I guess I’m not really looking to date anyone.”

He tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows and looking for all intents and purposes, like a confused puppy, “You guess?”

You nod, resisting the urge to just launch over the table and grab his face. He is very cute and he is making this so hard for you.

He sucks his teeth briefly, shrugging, “I’m not really either.”

“Alright,” you say, “Good.”

As over as that should make the issue, strangely enough it doesn’t feel like you’re done with Charles Leclerc and it certainly doesn’t feel like he’s done with you either.

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Amalfi Coast, Italy

You try to avoid Charles after that, you really do, but he doesn’t quite let you.

For a few days of the holiday you give him pointed looks and purse your lips a lot when he’s around. Chloe catches on straight away and that makes it all infinitely worse until she finally realises she might need to leave you alone (yeah, shocker). When Chloe finally forces everyone to get off your back about Charles, it becomes much easier to be around him. You’re not glaring at your friends while they make eyes at you, or worrying if you’re acting weird; you’re just allowed to be.

It’s nice. He’s nice.

But you knew that already.

Neither of you are looking for a relationship so there’s no pressure for it to be anything at all. But you have this sneaking suspicion that perhaps both of you are looking for a relationship with eachother regardless. You try to ignore the thought.

On day five, you’re sitting together on an outcropping of rock that overlooks the ocean and you’re letting Charles doodle in your notebook with a ballpoint pen. The bare skin of both your arms are pressed together, they stick with sweat from the hot midday sun but neither of you seem to care. As you watch him doodle inexpertly you can smell him— salt and sweat and whatever cologne he uses masking the very faint scent of burning rubber. Your hair, still damp, brushes his forearm, you wonder if you smell of acrylic paint and mildew from all the water cups you accidentally leave out for your paintbrushes.

You reach out to trace a line he’d made, “Here, it should be more like…” you taper off, taking the pen from his hand and quickly fixing the curve of the beach before handing the utensil back.

“Hmm,” he hums, giggling a little, “I guess that looks better.”

“You guess?”

He nods, “What if I had a very specific vision?”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning back to look him in the eye you tease, “A vision. Did you?”

He tilts his head down to look at you. You’re very close now, you can feel his breath fanning over your face. In the reflection of his sunglasses you watch your lips part slightly and your eyelids flutter. Your chest grows tight with anticipation and maybe a little bit of panic. Still, you reach out and slide his sunglasses up to settle in his hair. You’re a little careless, but you like the way his hair pokes out from them at odd angles. As he breathes out you hear it catch for a split second.

“Did you?” you repeat, knowing he won’t remember what you were talking about.

He blinks twice, still staring at you, “Hmm?”

“You said you had a vision,” you breathe.

“Oh,” as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your mouth, only for a second, but it’s long enough to you know you’re done for.

You both lean in at the same time, your noses sliding off each other in your eagerness. You breathe a kind of laugh into his mouth and you feel him try to suppress a smile against your lips. It’s slow for the first few seconds, just you and Charles figuring out how your mouths fit together. His mouth is warm and wet and so soft, and it’s easy to lose yourself in it. You move the hand that had adjusted his sunglasses, sliding it up his shoulder to the back of his muscled neck. Your fingers weave into the short hair at the base of it, your nails scratching absently there. He groans, ever so slightly into your mouth and it sends heat skittering down your spine, into the low of your gut.

The hand of his that isn’t clutching onto your notebook slips forward and winds around to press at your bare back. He pulls you closer to him as you slide your hand up to cup the back of his head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Soon it’s a mess of tongue and teeth and Charles blindly shoving your notebook somewhere it wont slip into the water so he can grab you with both hands. He tastes like red wine and coffee and you love the way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his teeth have been grazing at your bottom lip, like he wants to sink into it.

You’re almost in his lap when you’re forced to pull away for air.

Foreheads pressed together, you breathe heavily into the space between you. Your hand is still stuck in his hair and one of his on the small of your back, the other holding your knee. The sides of your noses touch, you nudge yours against his affectionately, tempted by the proximity of his mouth.

He laughs and you feel it against your lips, intermingling with your own breath, “Alright. That was–”

“Yeah,” you finish, dipping forward to kiss him again.

You’re lost for another few minutes. Tongue and teeth and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock behind you. And his hand on your jaw and in your hair and pulling you closer closer to him.

He pulls away this time, turning his head to press your cheeks together, mouth at your ear, “So,” he drags the word out with a laugh, “are you looking for a relationship now?”

You snort unceremoniously, and tease, “Hmm. I guess I would be amenable to that.”

“You guess?” he asks— but not really needing to at all because you can feel his dimples pressing into your cheek as he smiles knowingly.

You nod, smiling too, “I guess.”

🎨 yes of course i made a playlist>> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cAJaZjvK0V7SrmxoMosBX?si=ADlJGHxxQYKnlZ1jWFJxfw&pi=a-AI0MKbo3RTqE

taglist: (pls message if you'd like to be added to the taglist for charles. my yuck! one is full so need to start a new one😭)

[xxblairexxss]

Subjectivity in art

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x artist!painter!reader

Theme : fluff

Requested!

This is so much fun to make thank you for the request, anon! 🩷

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ynusername 🖼️

username1 charles is so fast slow down no one’s beating your record as her 1st like 😆😂

username2 is she the new gf?

username3 he’s just liking her posts

username4 will you ever post your face

username7 can we see your face

username5 leave her alone guys

username6 you guys be attacking every girl he was ever rumoured to be with

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ynusername 🤍

charles_leclerc you are an art

username1 ariana what are you doing here

username2 i just know she’s gorgeous af

username3 the dresss is to die for

username4 so is charles looking at the art or he’s looking at you bcs i don’t think he even paid any attention to the work 😂

username5 how cute is it that charles went with her to the art gallery 🥹🥹

username6 charles come on how could you pull her with that horrible rizz 😤

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ynusername the pancakes were yummy! username1 you are so talenteeed!

username2 i couldn’t even draw a straight line

username3 have you ever had your drawings in an art gallery?

ynusername one day, I wish! 🥹

username4 you are so talented!

username5 you are like living in a pinterest 🥰

charles_leclerc

Liked by joris__trouche, ynusername, and 1,825,386 others

charles_leclerc coffee and art makes her happy

ynusername You make me happy too!

username1 SHE’S BEAUTIFUL???

username2 i knew she was stunning even from her back

username3 you bagged her with that horrible rizz of yours? what did you even say? username4 She’s soooo prettyyyyyy though my heart is a little broken

username5 woah wasn’t expecting charles to be the one who upload her face

username6 finally! someone who is not an instagram model as a wag

charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly, ynusername, and 1,926,027 others

charles_leclerc a little celebration ❤️

username1 WHAT CELEBRATION?!

username2 y’all getting married?

username3 omg no slow down you proposed already???

username4 She slay every outfit 🥹🩷

username5 I need her wardrobe 😩

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 27,625 others

ynusername I don’t really want to post this but my boyfriend said I look pretty in white 🤍

username1 and your boyfriend is right you look the prettiest in white

username2 are you getting married to your boyfriend

username3 ppl need to chill not you guys assuming they are getting married just because she’s wearing a white dress??

username4 they are just on a date like normal couple what’s the big deal

username6 I loveeeee your outfitss!

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 5285 others

ynusername Had my first work to be displayed at an art gallery in Paris! 🤍✨

username1 Lol charles probably had something to do with it 🙄

username3 get the fuck off

username2 omg you deservedd itt! 🥹

username4 WELL DESERVEED! 🩷

charles_leclerc So proud of you, my love ❤️

username5 need the tutorial on the hair

charles_leclerc

Liked by arthur_leclerc, ynusername and 1,995,427 others

charles_leclerc the proudest boyfriend

ynusername I love youu!

username1 living the pinterest boyfriend life

username2 parentssss 🩷

username3 it’s just so obvious how in love charles is based on the photos he uploaded

username4 the second pic?!?! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[my-name-is-apollo]

Dark-haired Apollo

I know everyone likes blonde Apollo, and for good reasons! A lot of poets seemed to have been fond of imagining him with long, beautiful golden hair. But dark-haired Apollo, though quite rare in the poems, also exists and I honestly like that too.

• From the Erythrean paean to Asclepius (which then continues into a paean to king Seleucus):

"Over the libations, sing of Seleucus, son of dark-haired Apollo, whom the god of the golden lyre himself begot..." – (Trans. P.A.LeVen)

> κυανοπλοκάμου (kyanoplokámou) - dark-haired is used to describe Apollo's hair here.

• From Limenius' paean to Apollo (also known as the second Delphic hymn):

"But you, O god who owns the oracular tripod, come to this ridge of Parnassus where the gods tread, and where divine possession is welcomed. Weave a crown of bay about your wine-dark hair, and drawing with your hand . . . you encountered the monstrous child of Gaia . . ." (Trans. J.G.Landels)

>It was a bit difficult for me to figure what word is used here for his hair because the original Greek text is fragmented and I'm not knowledgeable about the language - I rely on the online translations - so a disclaimer. But from what I've put together, the word used to describe the color of the hair is οἰνῶ̣πα (oinõpa) which translates to "dark", "ruddy complexioned". Also, the same hymn calls Apollo "golden-haired" in the beginning lol.

In Deipnosophists by Athenaeus, a comment is made on the poets' imagination of Apollo's hair vs the painters' preference:

"And you do not either like the poet who spoke of the golden-haired Apollo; for if a painter were to represent the hair of the god as actually golden, and not black, the picture would be all the worse." – (Trans. Charles Burton Gulick)

> according to this, the painters liked to represent Apollo with black (μελαίνας) hair. Or rather that making his golden will make the painting look worse.

And if the Roman paintings and mosaics are any proof, these painters did actually seem to prefer representing Apollo with dark hair.

So yeah, while in the myths he's often called golden-haired, dark-haired Apollo is a more common sight in the paintings.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Maureen O’Hara (The Parent Trap, The Quiet Man)—They called her the Queen of Technicolor. That right there should help introduce people to the fiery, wonderful, stunning Maureen O’Hara. She was from Ireland, born in 1920, and started in theater at the age of ten. At 15, she was winning drama awards, including one for her performance as Portia in the Merchant of Venice. At 16, she was the youngest pupil to graduate from the Guildhall School of Music. By 18, she transitioned to film, starting off with a bang alongside Charles Laughton in Hitchcock’s Jamaica Inn, and proceeded to work steadily up through the early 1970s. She was in adventures and comedies and romances, spent a lot of time in westerns giving merry hell to John Wayne (and less merry hell to the indomitable John Ford — she held her own even when he was verbally abusive and demeaning to her). She was in The Quiet Man, which was the first American-made film entirely filmed in a foreign country. She helped make American Christmas what it is with Miracle on 34th Street. She played a lineup of headstrong, forthright women second only, perhaps, to Katharine Hepburn. She was married three times, lived for a while with a boyfriend in Mexico, sued for custody of her daughter in the 1950s, AND sued a magazine for libel in the same era. After mostly retiring from acting, she edited a magazine. She eventually sold the magazine to spend more time with her grandson, but even then ran a ladies fashion store. She was an outspoken, brilliant, passionate lady, with amazing red hair, a career to envy, and — well — that face!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Maureen O'Hara:

I thought she was one of the most beautiful women in the world when I was a kid and I have yet to really change my mind. Always loved her temper and her red hair. Plus she was kind of a MILF in The Parent Trap

Haughty, red hair, hot.

I would have to give up my passport if I didn't submit Maureen O'Hara but also have you seen her? Not only did she look like that (she was called the Queen of Technicolor, though she wasn't a big fan of that sobriquet), she was also very funny and tough as nails. She faced off against Walt Disney in a contract dispute and the legend goes that when someone mentioned her at his deathbed, he sat up and said 'That bitch!'. Her comment on that story is "At least he didn't think of me and say, 'That wimp'." She struggled to get serious roles for a time, saying ""Hollywood would never allow my talent to triumph over my face," so she plays the sexy princess/pirate/harem girl in a LOT of early movies that she referred to as "Tits and Sand" films, she being the tits in question. She also turned down so many leading men and studio bosses (Errol Flynn and Howard Hughes are among her rejects) that there were rumours spread that she was a lesbian. Many egos were battered it seems. I'm including the infamous Lady Godiva scene in the photo propaganda for the sheer Moment of it [link] . It was a bit of a flop critically, but it was one of Clint Eastwood's first film appearances and she said he told her later that he was very glad of the money at the time.

She was a very proud Irish woman and when she went for her American citizenship they insisted on referring to her as British (the timeline of Irish independence is a bit wibbly wobbly, we won't get into it here). She refused to accept American citizenship under that condition and argued her way through every level of US immigration she could find, supposedly saying "I'm not responsible for your antiquated records here in Washington", until a judge finally gave up and said "Give her what she wants, just get her out of here". This made her the first ever person seeking US citizenship to be proclaimed Irish on the record!

The hair. The accent. The figure. The acting chops. The perfection.

[iwtvfanevents]

Rewind the Tape —Episode 1

Art of the episode

During our rewatch, we took note of the art shown and mentioned in the pilot, and we wanted to share. Did we miss any? Do you have any thoughts about how these references could be interpreted? How do you think Armand and Louis go about picking the art for their penthouse in Dubai?

The Fall of the Rebel Angels

Peter Bruegel the Elder, 1562

This painting is featured in the Interview with the Vampire book, and it was important enough to be included in the draft pilot script!

Bruegel the Elder was among the most significant Dutch and Flemish Renaissance artists. He was a painter and print-maker, known for his landscapes and peasant scenes.

Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion

Francis Bacon, 1944

Bacon was an Irish figurative painter, known for his raw, unsettling imagery and a number of triptychs and diptychs among his work. At a time when being gay was a criminal offense, Bacon was open about his sexuality, and was cast out by his family at 16 for this reason. He destroyed many of his early works, but about 590 still survive. The Tate, where these paintings are displayed, says this about the work: "Francis Bacon titled this work after the figures often featured in Christian paintings witnessing the death of Jesus. But he said the creatures represented the avenging Furies from Greek mythology. The Furies punish those who go against the natural order. In Aeschylus’s tragedy The Eumenides, for example, they pursue a man who has murdered his mother. Bacon first exhibited this painting in April 1945, towards the end of the Second World War. For some, it reflects the horror of the war and the Holocaust in a world lacking guiding principles."

On the Hunt or Captain Percy Williams On A Favorite Irish Hunter and Calling the Hounds Out of Cover

Samuel Sidney, 1881 [Identified by @vfevermillion.] and Heywood Hardy, 1906 [Identified by @destinationdartboard.]

Sidney was an English writer, and his prints usually accompanied his publications about hunting, agriculture, and about settling Australia during the colonial period. Hardy, also British, was a painter, in particular an animal painter. There's also a taxidermy deer, ram, and piebald deer on the wall.

Iolanta

Pyotr Tchaikovsky, 1892

The opera Louis and Lestat go to was composed by Tchaikovsky, another gay artist. The play tells a story "in which love prevails, light shines for all, lies are no longer necessary and no one must fear punishment," as put by Susanne Stähr for the Berliner Philharmoniker.

Strawberries and Cream

Raphaelle Peale, 1816 [Identified by @diasdelfuego.]

Peale is considered to have been the first professional American painter of still-life.

Outfits inspired by J.C. Leyendecker

Leyendecker was one of the most prominent and commercially successful freelance artists in the U.S. He studied in France, and was a pioneer of the Art Deco illustration. Leyendecker's model, Charles Beach, was also his lover of five decades. You can read costume designer Carol Cutshall's thoughts on these outfits on her Instagram.

The Artist's Sister, Melanie

Egon Schiele, 1908 [Identified by @dwreader.]

Schiele was an Austrian expressionist painter and protege of Gustav Klimt. Many of his portraits (self portraits and of others) were described as grotesque and disturbing.

A Stag at Sharkey's

George Wesley Bellows, 1909 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Bellows was an American realist painter, known for his bold depictions of urban life in New York City.

Mildred-O Hat

Robert Henri, undated (likely 1890s) [Identified by @nicodelenfent, here.]

Henri was an American painter who studied in Paris, where he learned from the Impressionists and determined to lead an even more dramatic revolt against American academic art.

Starry night

Edvard Munch, 1893 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Munch was a Norwegian painter, one of the best known figures of late 19th-century Symbolism and a great influence in German Expressionism in the early 20th century. His work dealt with psychological themes, and he personally struggled with mental illness.

If you spot or put a name to any other references, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the post!

Starting tonight, we will be rewatching and discussing Episode 2, ...After the Phantoms of Your Former Self. We hope to see you there!

And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

[nipuni]

Some updates from this week 😊 I caved and got myself a sewing machine!! I found one second hand very cheap, so I went shopping for some instructive sewing books to start learning and I found a few! but I also found ..all these other books 😔💦 I keep buying repeats because of the pretty editions or different language but..these editions of classics have embossed covers with metallic details, gilded edges an glossy pages 😭 I also found this travel journal from Charles Garnier when he travelled across Spain in 1868 with his wife, painter Gustave Boulanger and architect Ambroise Baudry and documented everything they did in little verses and sketched the buildings and people and it is so funny, it even has the whole itinerary with travel times, hotels and more all in his handwriting and with a transcript, I love it so much 🥺

[galleryofart]

Apollo, God of Light, Eloquence, Poetry and the Fine Arts with Urania, Muse of Astronomy

Artist: Charles Meynier (1768–1832)

Genre: Mythological Painting

Date: 1798

Media: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

Charles Meynier was a French painter of historical subjects in the late 18th and early 19th century. He was a contemporary of Antoine-Jean Gros und Jacques-Louis David.

Meynier was the son of a tailor. Already at a young age he was trained by Pierre-Philippe Choffard. As a student of François-André Vincent, Meynier won the second prize in the 1789 prix de Rome competition; Girodet won. He became a member of the Académie de France à Rome. In 1793 he went back to Paris.

He made designs for the bas-reliefs and statues on the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel and the Paris Bourse. From 1816 onward, he was a member of the Académie des Beaux-Arts. In 1819 Meynier was appointed teacher at the École des Beaux-Arts. Like his wife he died of cholera.

[terresdebrume]

"You can put your things here if you want."

Niko, who was trying and failing to find a free spot on the bench that lines up the dance studio, turns to the newcomer with a grateful sigh.

"Thank you," she says, "I didn't want to put my things on a stranger's bag and make them think I'm rude."

The man who approached her smiles. He has nice, dark eyes and dark skin, a long curved nose, and the sort of smile that never fails to put Niko at ease. She doesn't how to ask what his name is, so she sets her eyes on the golden hoop dangling from his left ear and waits. It only takes him a beat to say:

"Oh, I'm Charles, by the way."

"I'm Niko. And now we're no longer strangers."

She turns and puts her bright blue bag over Charles' well worn black one, then turns back around and makes her way to where the rest of the participants have already gathered in a circle. At first, Niko can't see Ashley, but it's only takes a few seconds to find her on the opposite side of the room, happily chatting with one of the older men.

Niko hesitates. Ashley is the only reason she's even here: there are too many people here for her to ever spontaneously join, and she knows nothing about dancing. Even when she listens to her favorite music at home and there's no one to see her dance, she rarely dares to do more than shake her hands a little. She looks around, discomfited, as the teacher asks everyone to form a circle around the studio and Ashley stays next to the older man, but before she has the time to worry about being on her own, Charles appears by her side with a smile.

"Hi again," he says, and Niko doesn't know him, but right now his face is the most familiar after Ashley's, and she is grateful for her presence. She nods at him, although she can't make herself smile, and he asks: "Is this your first time?"

"Yes," Niko says. Then, the words tumbling out of her: "I'm nervous because I followed my friend here but now she's making new friends and I have no idea what to do."

"Oh, I think we'll start with Road Map," Charles says with a nod towards the painter's tape on the floor that divides the studio into quarters. "The Boss will ask us a question, then assign an answer to each section, and you'll move to the one that applies to you."

Niko nods. This is a simple game, with simple rules, and no one is asking her to dance yet, which is just ast well. She can handle this first activity without too much trouble, she's sure. That is: she's sure of it, until something occurs to her.

"What happens if none of the answers fit you?" She asks, trying to keep her voice low as the teacher explains the rules of the game to the rest of the group.

"Then you either pick the closest answer or you stay in the middle," Charles says.

Niko nods again. Charles is wearing dance sneakers, she notices then. Someone drew tiny ghosts and skulls in white lines on the black fabric, and Niko almost smiles. Somehow, the sight of those quirky little faces makes her feel a little less like the odd one out with her sparkly blue shoes. She keeps looking at Charles' shoes while the teacher asks people to pick between ice cream flavors. Niko moves into the vanilla square with one of the three elderly women, a boy who can't be older than seventeen, and a person who went out of her way to look neither male nor female. When Niko looks up to confirm Ashley joined the strawberry square, she finds Charles standing in the middle of the studio on his own.

"Mr. Rowland," the teacher says with the tone of someone rolling their eyes a little bit, "may I ask why you didn't join the caramel and butter square?"

"You didn't say if it was salted or not," Charles says with a shrug and a grin that makes Niko chuckle. "That's an important point to specify, Boss."

A few people smile or even laugh at Charles' answer, and Niko thinks the room feels a little less tense after that. The next questions are about favorite animals (Niko goes to the 'cats' square, opposite Charles' 'dogs'), favorite color (Niko's is pink, Charles stays in the middle again for turquoise) and how spicy people like their food (Niko goes to the 'mildly' suare, and Charles goes to the 'very spicy' square with three other people). Then the teacher asks how many country everyone lived in, and Niko is alone in the 'three' square, with Charles next to her in the 'two' square.

"Can I asked where you lived?" Charles asks when they go back to the outskirts of the dancefloor to wait for the next activity.

"Japan, the US, and here," Niko says.

Charles looks like he's going to say something but then the teacher, a red-haired woman with a strong scottish accent and impeccable posture, announces the next activity. This time, they are supposed to find as many movements to do as there are syllables in their full names. Niko is grateful that she has no middle name and terrified by the exercise all at once. Well, there are other steps in the middle, but once they've gone through A-nu-mi-ta Mar-lowe, A-shley Wil-son and Charles Row-land, it's Niko's turn. She feels like she might explode every time she claps her hands as she introduces herself as Ni-ko Sa-sa-ki, and then there are only two other people after her before they are all instructed to turn away from the circle and start practicing their moves.

Niko's name is five syllables, and she has no idea how she's going to come up with five whole moves! A glance to her left shows E-ri-ca Ngo-si has a similar issue, which is a little reassuring. To the right, however, Charles is stretching his arms over his head, seemingly unconcerned. Niko can't help staring.

"Are you not going to do the exercise?"

"I already did," Charles says with a wink. "It's my third session here, and we always do that game. I've got it down pat by now."

"Oh, you're lucky," Niko says with a sigh. "I have no idea what to do. I don't know how to dance yet!"

"It's okay," Charles tells her with another one of his smiles. "We're going to play the game again, you know. If you don't like your movements very much, you can always change them."

"I really don't want to get it wrong," Niko says, frowning.

"I promise you can't. There's no wrong answer there."

Niko nods, because she understands that. The issue is that if there is no wrong answer, then there is also no correct answer, which is more stressful to deal with. Still, she wants to follow the instructions correctly, and that means coming up with something. It takes her a few minutes of thinking to figure out the impression she wants to give, but in the end she decides to start by fingerspelling Niko with a small bounce, then three sparkle hands for the syllables of 'Sasaki'. It's a good thing she's doing this exercise in England, she thinks. In Japan, she would have had to start with the sparkle hands and end with the more muted gestures, as if she started out bubbly and calmed down over time, which is the oposite of truth.

Eventually, they go around the circle. Ashley does the robot for her gestures, and everyone learns her movement and her name in no time. When Charles' turn comes, with his bold Indian dance moves, it takes Niko a couple of tries to get it right, but she doesn't give up, and in the end she is the one who replicates his gestures the best. Then she shares her name and her dance movement, expecting her turn to go like everyone else's. Instead, before anyone can repeat her name, Charles asks:

"Was that fingerspelling?"

"Yes," Niko says, wondering if she's meant to apologize for not picking an actual dance move, but before she can do that, Charles exclaims:

"Aces! Show me again?"

Niko does, a smile overtaking her face beyond her control. She likes Charles, she decides. Likes that he went out of his way to help her, likes the easy way with which he accepted her questions, likes his enthusiasm in the face of something that doesn't technicaly quite fit the assignment they were given. She likes him even more during the next activity, when they have to consider a whole list of things about dancing and he explains a bunch of them to Niko, with demonstrations when needed. And by the time the teacher shows them their first, very simple dance step and Charles makes silly faces to make her laugh, Niko is decided to attend the next class, whether Ashley enjoyed herself or not.

This snippet takes place in the I'm down on my knees universe and will eventually be cleaned up and posted on AO3 x)

[antonio-m]

“Second Lieutenant Charles Legrand”, c.1810 by Antoine-Jean Gros. (1771–1835). Portrait of a French Cuirassier during the Napoleonic Wars. French painter, during the French revolution. Los Angeles County Museum of Art. oil on canvas

[bg-brainrot]

~continuing to build out the classical art Astarion collection~

Astarion as Apollo in Apollo, God of Light, Eloquence, Poetry and the Fine Arts with Urania, Muse of Astronomy by Charles Meynier, 1798.

Astarion as Persephone in The Abduction of Proserpina by an unidentified painter, second half of 17th century, feat. Cazador as Hades.

Astarion as Narcissus in Echo and Narcissus by John William Waterhouse, 1903, feat. rogue!tav as Echo.

Astarion and rogue!tav in The Kiss by Auguste Rodin, 1882.

Astarion and rogue!tav in Sakuntala by Camille Claudel, 1905.

Astarion and rogue!tav in Eternal Idol by Auguste Rodin, 1893.

I feel like a weird little art curator. Anyway, there are a few more I'd like to do, namely Cupid/Psyche, but I haven't run a poll in a while so I might do that next time c:

[dutch-and-flemish-painters]

Jacques-Albert Senave - Copyist in a gallery of the Louvre -

oil on panel, height: 28.5 cm (11.2 in); width: 36.2 cm (14.2 in)

Louvre Museum

The Louvre or the Louvre Museum is a national art museum in Paris, France. It is located on the Right Bank of the Seine in the city's 1st arrondissement (district or ward) and home to some of the most canonical works of Western art, including the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo. The museum is housed in the Louvre Palace, originally built in the late 12th to 13th century under Philip II. Remnants of the Medieval Louvre fortress are visible in the basement of the museum. Due to urban expansion, the fortress eventually lost its defensive function, and in 1546 Francis I converted it into the primary residence of the French kings.

The building was extended many times to form the present Louvre Palace. In 1682, Louis XIV chose the Palace of Versailles for his household, leaving the Louvre primarily as a place to display the royal collection, including, from 1692, a collection of ancient Greek and Roman sculpture. In 1692, the building was occupied by the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres and the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, which in 1699 held the first of a series of salons. The Académie remained at the Louvre for 100 years. During the French Revolution, the National Assembly decreed that the Louvre should be used as a museum to display the nation's masterpieces.

The museum opened on 10 August 1793 with an exhibition of 537 paintings, the majority of the works being royal and confiscated church property. Because of structural problems with the building, the museum was closed from 1796 until 1801. The collection was increased under Napoleon and the museum was renamed Musée Napoléon, but after Napoleon's abdication, many works seized by his armies were returned to their original owners. The collection was further increased during the reigns of Louis XVIII and Charles X, and during the Second French Empire the museum gained 20,000 pieces. Holdings have grown steadily through donations and bequests since the Third Republic. The collection is divided among eight curatorial departments: Egyptian Antiquities; Near Eastern Antiquities; Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities; Islamic Art; Sculpture; Decorative Arts; Paintings; Prints and Drawings.

The Musée du Louvre contains approximately 500,000 objects and displays 35,000 works of art in eight curatorial departments with more than 60,600 m2 (652,000 sq ft) dedicated to the permanent collection. The Louvre exhibits sculptures, objets d'art, paintings, drawings, and archaeological finds. At any given point in time, approximately 38,000 objects from prehistory to the 21st century are being exhibited over an area of 72,735 m2 (782,910 sq ft), making it the largest museum in the world. It received 8.9 million visitors in 2023, 14 percent more than in 2022, but still below the 10.1 million visitors in 2018, making it the most-visited museum in the world.

Jacques-Albert Senave (1758–1823) was a Flemish painter mainly active in Paris during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. He is known for his genre scenes, history paintings, landscapes, city views, market scenes and portraits.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

alright so can i ask another part on my old request which was genius reader x Nikola and the scientist/male reader who is basically William James Sidis.

so like what if male reader never turn his back on science and knowledge and just did it in secret without Nikola and the other scientist knowing

(this was after they knew male reader was smart if not more smarter then them:

it happened when one of them said "if only there where other geniuses we knew…that can help us with this"

because they're having trouble with both a invention and mathematical problem and male reader heard this and said "more geniuses? i know people that might help!"the other scientist looked at male reader confused, because they thought, they where the only geniuses he knew,

so male reader led them to his laboratory/research area which they never knew and when they asked him why he didn't tell them about this, male reader hit them with the classic "because you didn't ask!"

the door looked like a big clock which made the other scientists confused on how they didn't see this! so when the hand hit 12 the clock door opened

the inside was a large steampunk looking laboratory with thousands of books reaching the ceilings making it look like a library, paper scattered the floor, inventions left and right

and having two floors! and having rooms like a chemistry room, craft room basically everything you need! basically a genius paradise!

as well as having a very large chalkboard ware Gottfried Leibniz and Goethe,Johann Wolfgang von was writing theories

on the side was leonardo da vinci painting a large mural on the side of the wall and Marilyn vos Savant was on the second floor and was talking with Ada Lovelace and Hypatia, Ettore Majorana was sitting down on one of the chairs reading a book and writing theories talking with charles darwin

and Mozart was playing the piano on a little stage to the side filling the room with a beautiful Melody

as well as Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson AND Andres Bonifacio as well as Jose Rizal himself taking to each other about they're respective revolution's and politics,

here's the list of everyone there!

the list:

1.) leonardo da vinci

iq:180-220

title:greatest inventor and painter of his time

2.) Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von

iq:210-225

title:A German poet, playwright, novelist, scientist, statesman, theatre director, and crit

3.) Marilyn vos Savant

iq:180-228

title:the smartest woman to have ever lived

4.) Gottfried Leibniz

iq:182-205

title:Russian Privy Councillor from Peter I as well as Privy Councillor at the Imperial Court in Vienna.

5.) Ettore Majorana

iq:183-200

title:the scientist who disappeared without a trace/the one who possibly discovered neutrons

6.) Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

iq:150-155

title: the greatest and most well known composer in history

7.) Alexander Hamilton

iq:120-160

title:secretary of the treasury and one of the founding fathers

8.) Benjamin Franklin

iq:130-160

title:the father/discoverer of lightning and one of the founding fathers

9.) jose Rizal

iq:150-160

title:Father of Filipino Nationalism/the one who started the Philippines revolution

10.) andres bonifacio

iq:100-140??(not sure)

title:the Father of the Philippine Revolution/The Great Plebeian, Supremo of the Katipunan

11.) Thomas Jefferson

iq:160-175

title:one of American Founding Father/the principal author of the Declaration of Independence

12.) charles darwin

iq:150-165

title:the father of evolution /the one who put light on human evolution

13.) Hypatia

iq:170–210

title:the greatest Neoplatonist philosopher, astronomer, and mathematician of her time

14.) Ada Lovelace!

iq:170-200

title:mother of computer/the one who revolutionized computer programmer

(you can search their names if you want to know more)

and turns out all of those geniuses and male reader are literally the bestest of friends! like all of them yelling theories and opinions left and right and basically teaching and helping each other so that they can understand there respective fields/talents.

and turns out reader and the 14 geniuses would often hang out in reader's laboratory/research area, almost everyday because of how frequently they use his lab/area.

and so how would the other scientist and Nikola react to seeing male reader being the best of friends with the most important and greatest minds in history and how would they would they feel about it?

-It had been a few weeks since you showed off your intelligence, fixing a problem that your friends, Nikola, Marie, Isaac, and Thomas had been tearing their hair out over.

-It was a slow process for you to open up, helping them out with more of their problems and questions, as past trauma made it a little scary for you.

-However, once you started, you remembered how fun it was for you, working with complex problems, asking all sorts of questions, and discovering new breakthroughs.

-Nikola patted you on your back, looking proud as he looked over the newest equation you had been working on with Isaac, “This is amazing Y/N!”

-You gave him a warm smile and Marie, who was nearby, finishing her own research, “How did you not go crazy while not doing this stuff? I get antsy after just a few hours if I don’t work on something.”

-You just grinned, offering them a break and you led them down a long hallway, “There were other things to keep my mind busy- not just science and questions. And I had some help with it.”

-They came to a stop in front of a large metal door, covered with intricate clockwork mechanisms and you knocked before opening the door and their eyes went wide.

-Before them were so many more geniuses, not just scientists, but geniuses in their own fields, like Mozart, who was playing on the piano, greeting you as you walked in as he paused, writing a few more notes on his sheet music.

-You passed by Charles Darwin, greeting him who paused to greet you, as did Ettore Majorana, before returning to their conversation.

-You stopped at a large wall, seeing Leonardo Da Vinci painting a massive but stunningly beautiful mural, “Looks good Leo- you’ve been working hard!”

-Leonardo looked down, seeing you and the new guests, “Ahh hello my friends! I’m glad you like it- it will be even better once I’ve finished everything!”

-Thomas was in awe, seeing more of histories’ geniuses, just relaxing and working around the room, like Gottfried Leibniz, Goethe, Marilyn Vos Savant, Ada Lovelace, and Hypatia to name a few, and soon you were by yourself, speaking with Leonardo, as your friends had rushed to talk with the others in the room.

-You couldn’t help but grin, shaking your head like you were exasperated, seeing everyone quickly getting hyper- all of them enjoying having new faces and fresh minds to have discussions with.

-Your friends were quick to discover that while you weren’t working on science, or at least the science they were used to- you kept your mind sharp with your fellow brilliant minds.

-You sank into a nearby chair, leaning your cheek on your fist, a smile on your face- things were going to be loud for a while- but you didn’t mind, seeing the others all so happy as well.

[royalty-nobility]

Emily, Marchioness of Kildare

Artist: Allan Ramsay (Scottish, 1764-1766)

Date: 1764-1766

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: National Museums, Liverpool, United Kingdom

Emily, Marchioness of Kildare

The sitter, second daughter of the 2nd Duke of Richmond, married James, 20th Earl of Kildare in 1747 at the age of fifteen and spent long periods in Ireland. Thanks to her family connections she was well known in London society and was much loved for her intelligence and her warm personality. Ramsay presents her as contemplative and book-learned (she is reading the ancient historian Procopius). Her sister, Lady Holland (the mother of Charles James Fox) wrote to her as the portrait was being finished: “I saw your sweet face at Ramsay’s t’other day; ‘tis a heavenly picture indeed'.

Principal painter to King George III, Ramsay was one of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s chief rivals, noted for his ability to portray character and his soft, often pastel-like colour.

[andiatas]

swedish royal (nick)names pt. 1

King Oscar II with family. Unknown painter, 1905.

I was talking with @foreverinthepagesofhistoryy the other day & we ended up on the topic of royal names & nicknames. Specifically how the Swedish Royal Family loves to Swedify names & how it can be difficult to differentiate who is who in the Bernadotte dynasty because everyone is called Karl/Carl or Gustaf/Gustav. This inspired me to make this series of what the royals' official names were vs. what they were actually called day-to-day. Plus other fun facts surrounding their names.

As you will notice when scrolling through this post, I've settled on a structure of: [if applicable, the name they were born with] / [the Swedish name] / [if applicable, the English name]

First generation

Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte / Karl XIV Johan / Charles XIV John

When Karl Johan was part of the French military, he was allegedly nicknamed Belle-Jambe. This is said to have been a nod towards his *cough* talent to charm women...

Then later when he became chosen as the Swedish Crown Prince, his name was Swedified. Jean became Johan & he adopted Karl as a nod towards his "adoptive father". His official name went down in history as Karl Johan but sometimes you see the spelling Carl Johan & Jean-Baptiste sometimes signed his new Swedish name as Charles-Jean (maybe because he never learned Swedish, who knows).

Désirée Clary / Desideria

While her given name was Désirée, all her friends & family seem to have been referring to her by one of her middle names: Eugénie.

It's said that Karl Johan's nickname for Desideria was Bonette, however, I've so far never been able to find a reliable source for this claim.

After her husband was named heir to the Swedish throne, she stayed in Paris "incognito" under the name Grevinnan av Gotland (Countess of Gotland).

Second generation

Oscar I / Oskar I

Here we see a classic case of Swedification. The man himself & his contemporaries wrote his name as Oscar. However, the Swedish Royal Court today has gone with the Swedish version of Oskar.

Joséphine de Beauharnais / Josefina / Josephine of Leuchtenberg

While her official name has gone down in history as Josefina, contemporary accounts referred to her as Josefine - a name that is still popular today.

Just like her mother-in-law, Josefina travelled incognito via an alias. Hers was Grevinnan av Tullgarn (Countess of Tullgarn).

One of her philanthropic legacies is Josephinahemmet, an elderly home for Catholics. So as you guys can see, people have never been able to agree on how this woman's name should be spelled.

Third generation

Karl XV / Charles XV

Commonly referred to as the most popular monarch of all times, Karl was apparently so beloved by the people that he got the nickname Kron-Kalle (Crown-Charlie).

However, while he is remembered as Karl, he himself spelt it as Carl.

Louise van Oranje-Nassau / Lovisa / Louise of the Netherlands

Born as Louise, she got the official name of Lovisa upon arriving in Sweden. However, it seems like she continued using her childhood name & just like with her mother-in-law, some contemporaries settled on a compromise by referring to her as Louisa (see for example Eugenia).

Gustaf

Gustaf has gone down in history as Sångarprinsen (the Singer Prince), however, his pseudonym as a composer was G*****.

Oscar II / Oskar II

Just like his father, people haven't been able to agree on how to spell his name. He himself & his contemporaries used Oscar but it's common to see the Swedified version of Oskar.

Oscar loved to participate in the political debate & did so "anonymously" under the pseudonyms O**** & Oscar Fredrik.

Sophia von Nassau / Sofia

While she was born as Sophia & then was given the Swedified version Sofia as her official name, she herself used the name Sophie throughout her entire life & was lovingly called Tante Sophie by the entire Royal Family.

It's said that her brothers jokingly called her "unsere demokratische schwester" (our democratic sister).

Two of her philanthropic legacies are Sophiahemmet (which today, another Sofia is patron of) in Stockholm & Sophies minde in Oslo.

Eugénie / Eugenia

This woman is interesting because her official & given name is Eugenia but both she & her contemporaries seem to have used Eugénie. On the Swedish Royal Court's website, she is referred to by both versions of her name & I've noticed a trend over the last few years that more & more she's mentioned as Eugénie rather than Eugenia.

Just like her older brother Gustaf, Eugenia was a composer & used the pseudonym E******. While not as well-known as her brother, she did write, for example, two pieces in the 1850s named "Drottning Josephinas polonaise" & "Louisa Wals", in 1860s she & her mother wrote the piece "Ach, wie schön die Glocken klingen" together (music by Eugenia & text by Josefina), then in 1871 she composed as piece in remembrance of "Louisa".

August

Finally, someone whose name everyone can agree on! I also can't find any mention of him ever earning a nickname...

Thérèse von Sachsen-Altenburg / Teresia

While her official name is Teresia, she was born Thérèse & it seems like friends & family continued to call her that even after she moved to Sweden.

Teresia most likely suffered from some type of mental illness, but back then she was just described as "unbalanced" & "stupid". This caused her to mockingly get called "Lilla hoppitossan" (little Hopsy-Totsie) by everyone, including her husband, at the Royal Court.

From the 1890s onwards, things seemed to get better for Teresia & she moved into Haga Palace, thus earning her the nickname Hagahertiginnan (the Haga Duchess).

Part 2 with the fourth, fifth & sixth generation will be published soon!

[wolfeyedwitch]

Context for AU: Basically my story Charles & Ollie (which can be read here on my blog) but vampires also exist in this world. Takes place roughly 6 months into the story, which is further than it is right now by two months or so.

— — —

Charles Durand was a world-renowned realism painter. Everyone knew that. He had made portraits for some of the most famous and powerful people on Earth. He had connections to many people and businesses, and his family had even more, being rich and somewhat famous in their own right.

So it’s no surprise he receives many gifts.

Whether it’s someone trying to get something from him, an overly enthusiastic fan, a family “friend”, or any other person Charles rather not deal with. Suffice to say, there’s many people which are annoying to Charles who give him annoying gifts.

And after his accidental acquiring of Ollie and his previously private fascination with more dark subject matter in paintings brought to light, the artist suddenly found himself with many, many, many unwanted gifts.

All of this information brings him to today. He went to speak with his secretaries to know if there was anything he had missed regarding his business and affairs, and they let him know we had received a rather large package.

A package labeled “fragile”.

A package that had breathing holes.

A package that he knew without a second guess contained a person.

Honestly, he should’ve been expecting this.

He wanted to open it up right away and let the poor thing out when one of his employees stopped him to inform with exactly what sort of person was in the box. Allegedly, it was a vampire who had been gifted to him.

A vampire that was undoubtably very injured and very hungry.

He did not open the box then and there, as much as it pained him. It would have to wait, for everyone’s safety and happiness.

He got a few of his stronger employees to help him move the box upstairs (and he promised each of them a little extra on their next paycheck, as he knew transporting humongous packages was nowhere in their job descriptions).

They deposited the box in a previously empty, extra room. He set up a bed made of many blankets and pillows stacked in a nest-like formation. He also got together some extra clothes and put them in boxes.

He’d get a proper bed and dresser and clothes soon enough, but they wouldn’t arrive right away, and he wanted to give this poor darling freedom as soon as possible.

CW: female vampire whumpee, non-con surgery, implied gore, starvation, dehumanization, it as a pronoun

---

The vampire would have whimpered in fear as it felt the box move, if it had still had the energy. Every time it thought its existence couldn't get worse, it was proven wrong.

This situation, the newest source of its terror, had been set in motion several weeks before. Its owner had been angry with it about.... something. It wasn't sure any more. It was so hard to think clearly between the starvation and fear. But its owner had been angry, and decided that they no longer wanted to keep it.

But one couldn't just abandon a pet vampire, and they weren't kind enough to kill it. As the owner had mused about what to do with it while idly tracing patterns on its skin with the tip of a silver knife, one of their friends had suggested something.

The owner and friend had apparently gone to an art show recently. The artist had depicted a scene much like what the vampire was then experiencing (blood spilling over pale skin, organs carelessly moved, hands reaching grasping pulling—) but less realistic than their usual work, apparently. The friend suggested that the artist could use a model to work from for their darker art, one that would survive to be used again and again.

The vampire.

Its owner had grinned at that idea, sharp and predatory.

Which led to the vampire being crammed into a box, curled protectively around itself. It was so hungry, its entire being seeming to shrivel in on itself.

A well-fed vampire would heal too fast to be a good model, after all.

Maybe the artist would feed it after they finished a painting? They would have to, right? If they wanted it to heal, to be a fresh canvas for the next artwork?

Or maybe they would just let it continue to starve, to dry up like fruit left in the sun. They could let it go into torpor, the death-like stillness of a starved vampire when there wasn't enough blood left in its undead body to keep it moving. It shivered at the thought. Its existence was hard enough as it was, kept contained in cells and kennels and boxes. How much worse would it be if its own body was a prison?

Well, it wouldn't have to wonder about its fate for too much longer. It was being moved again, and it could hear someone giving orders. That was probably its new owner, the artist.

Its owner would deal with it however they decided. It wasn't its place to wonder, or worry, or think.

Its only purpose was to entertain its betters.

If that came at the cost of its pain? So be it.

---

This was partially inspired by the lovely @ashintheairlikesnow's Vampire Chris AU, specifically the part with Edward Tooley. Cupcake and I were discussing having a playdate with our OCs and I thought about the painting mentioned in this piece, (the gory one that the vampire mentions hearing talked about) and vampires modeling things that would kill normal humans came to mind. One thing led to another, and here we are!

I'm not sure who all to tag for this, so let me know if you'd prefer to not be tagged for crossover pieces!

Taglist:

@kim-poce @cupcakes-and-pain @nonbinary-disaster @onlybadendings @neverthelass @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @ghostfacepepper @someonesnamesblog @rainbowsandwhumperflies @extemporary-whump @thecyrulik @myhusbandsasemni @heart4brains @kixngiggles @whumpsday @whumppsychology @elrysdoesstuff @towerlesskey @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @haro-whumps @pigeonwhumps @cc1010foxy @bloodinkandashes