#i have become vincent van gogh

[kizzysdepths]

HAPPY NEW EAR

[cyber444angel]

DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE DO U HAVE GAMES ON UR PHONE????????????

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[pretzel-box]

well... I'm trying to draw a Paintner from a streamer AU... AND IT'S REALLY HARD, I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW TO HUMANIZE IT....

LET ME HELP YOU DEAR FRIEND BECAUSE I DIE EVERY TIME I SEE YOUR PRETTY ART.

Welcome to: STREAMER AU PAINTER FACTS!

including: Moodboards!

—× Painters real name is Vincent in the streamer au. It's a personal headcanon. [Vincent Van Gogh is my favourite painter.] He doesn't like his birth name and nicknames and calls himself Painter.

Now let's dive into the upcoming Streamer AU Lore. This is split in two sections: Vincent & Painter. Both are the same person but with different lifestyles.

VINCENT

-× Vincent is the adopted son of Urbanshades CEO. He isn't aware that he's adopted. He will be the heir to the company and has studied exactly for this goal because of his fathers request.

-× He graduated from the Ivy League [Yale] with excellent grades.

-× Works officially for Urbanshade but checks in rarely since he has the freedom to do so. It's more like a tiny site business to learn the ropes from his father.

-× He's somewhat distant and professional in front of the Urbanshade employees, trying to mimic the same expressions as his father to build a reputation of respect. He may appear cold, but his replies are always helpful and on point.

-× He has his own expensive car from a top brand and an own chauffeur.

-× He wears contact lenses during work. His vision isn't the best, but he hates wearing glasses during his office business.

-× His father indirectly forced him to everything, shaping him into the perfect heir to take over Urbanshade and continue the legacy. Vincent his own needs aren't important.

PAINTER

-× Painter is a nickname that Sebastian gave him. Once Painter complained that he hates who he is. Sebastian tried to tell him he doesn't have to be Vincent, when he can be the one thing he always wanted to be: a Painter. From then on Sebastian nicknamed him Painter.

-× Painter is rich and successful, yet he prefers to drive with a plain green bikecycle around in private, it keeps him fit, and he feels more free.

-× He has an own little tech shop as a hobby. He tries to earn his own money for opening up a small art studio for himself. His father isn't supporting him, so he has to reach that goal all by himself.

-× He doesn't care for the Yale Graduation, the money, Urbanshade or his dad. Painter wishes to become an artist and not the CEO of a world famous company.

-× Painter loves puzzles, strategy games and riddles. He would do the sudoku in newspapers, the crosswords in magazines and solve logic errors during breakfast. Sebastian couldn't understand how he can be so smart.

-× He paints in the back of his shop, much to Cordelias demise. She once stepped in a bucket of pink paint, it stained her favourite pair of shoes for the rest of her life. Aside from that, you can find many broken devices, scrap and beautiful paintings in the back.

-× He always thought he didn't need someone in his life. He was happy as long as his dad was happy. But when you stepped in, he felt as if the world suddenly gained colours. He is absolutely mesmerized by you and is conflicted because his best friend feels the same.

[metamorphesque]

These images of circles and circling, revolving around a great center he names God, it makes me think of the cathedral labyrinths of Europe. Or the ancient spiral glyphs carved into rocks and cave faces. I see the circling pathway around some secret center. The road can be bewildering, twisting and turning, keeping us disoriented and uncertain of how near we are, but ever moving inward.

And that courageous line –

I may not ever complete the last one, but I give myself to it.

We walk the winding path, not out of certainty, but because it is the only path worth walking. Walking that road, quietly, with attention, one foot in front of the other, becomes meditation. It becomes worship. Each ring, whether near or far, is a layer of our lives that is blessed by our passing through it.

Walking the circling path is not only the way to the center, it is actually part of the center. We learn to participate in the center by first walking the path. Obsession with the destination becomes an impediment to reaching it. Instead, by patiently inhabiting each step, we discover the center in ourselves... and our feet naturally end up there, as well.

We walk with our whole selves –

and I still don't know: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?

On this roundabout road to God, we question our own nature. We encounter the mystery of self. Who and what are we really? Ultimately, it is in that questioning of a self that eludes definition where we find the still center.

The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate; and later on, when it "happens" (that is, steps forth out of us to other people), we will feel related and close to it in our innermost being. And that is necessary. It is necessary - and toward this point our development will move, little by little - that nothing alien happen to us, but only what has long been our own. People have already had to rethink so many concepts of motion; and they will also gradually come to realize that what we call fate does not come into us from the outside, but emerges from us. It is only because so many people have not absorbed and transformed their fates while they were living in them that they have not realized what was emerging from them; it was so alien to them that, in their confusion and fear, they thought it must have entered them at the very moment they became aware of it, for they swore they had never before found anything like that inside them. Just as people for a long time had a wrong idea about the sun's motion, they are even now wrong about the motion of what is to come. The future stands still, dear Mr. Kappus, but we move in infinite space.

Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen, die sich über die Dinge ziehn. Ich werde den letzten vielleicht nicht vollbringen, aber versuchen will ich ihn.

Ich kreise um Gott, um den uralten Turm, und ich kreise jahrtausendelang; und ich weiß noch nicht: bin ich ein Falke, ein Sturm oder ein großer Gesang.

I live my life in widening circles (set me free)

Starry Night (Vincent van Gogh), Widening Circles by Rainer Maria Rilke (tr. Joanna Macy), Commentary by Ivan M. Granger, The Chartres Cathedral Labyrinth, Ouroboros, 1760  (a photograph by Granger), question mark symbol in Armenian, 지민 (Jimin) 'Set Me Free Pt.2', Letters to a Young Poet (by Rainer Maria Rilke), Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen (by Rainer Maria Rilke)

[iphigeniainaulis]

Background paintings in Ikevamp and why they matter

...even if you are not familiar with art.

Warnings: minor spoilers for all routes, though I tried to keep it as vague as possible

Time to talk about background paintings in Ikemen vampire because…why not?

First, let me warn you that the following is nothing but a theory based on some visual resemblance. While it may occur that Ikemen designers wanted to hide a few Easter eggs, it's also fair to mention that sometimes the sky is blue just because it's Sunday morning, and that’s all. 

Nevertheless, one detail may hint at the former statement being true. And this is because there’s a significant difference in how different paintings are shown in the game. 

Some of them are blurry, overdark or too bright. While we can distinguish some unclear silhouettes, the rest is on our imagination.

For example, it seems that the first picture is the natural landscape (probably, sunset in the forest) as well as the second one with the Ionic style columns being placed in the center of a garden. Still, we’re not sure.

But the thing is it doesn’t matter. The amount of details the viewer is given is too small for us to make any art-historical assumptions. Based on these mere images we can figure out neither the artist who painted them nor the narrative. Therefore, these paintings have only a secondary function of background decorations and proof of demonstration of their owner’s wealth. 

On the contrary, there are paintings that we can easily detach because their creators are too famous to be unfamiliar with. But even within this scope of paintings there is a slight differentiation due to the way they are incorporated in the game design. 

Some of them have been revived by the hands of geniuses who once created them. This is the case of Leonardo’s Study of a woman’s head and Study of Hands

 or Vincent’s Sunflower and the Olive trees

While it’s easy to reduce the meaning behind this design decision to simple hype, I think that it also serves as a visual representation of the suitors' character traits. What is the point of redrawing the painting that was already brought to life a long time ago? For Vincent it means years, for Leonardo - centuries. My guess is that for artists like them it's never enough. Life is too beautiful to be captured once and forever. A woman’s face is never a mystery solved. While for many people it’s okay to achieve a goal and forget about it the exact minute they are done, for geniuses like Leonardo and Vincent it’s always different. You must improve. You have to work further. There is always something new an artist’s eye can capture. That’s why they painted it again, again and again. 

Let's move to another group of paintings. Spotting The Starry Night in Theo’s room is not a surprise because we know that, first of all, they’re brothers with Vincent, and, secondly, Theo is an art dealer.

What deserves to be brought into focus is that this work is regarded as the elder Van Gogh’s magnum opus. Sure, you can argue that the real Theo and Vincent thought little of this painting, calling it “a failure”. To which I reply that, again, this is a game for numerous people across the world, including those who are not familiar with art history. For many of us The Starry Night is viewed as one of the most popular art works, a special work, a valuable one. Therefore, by omitting historical accuracy Ikemen writers and designers try to achieve something more contributing to the plot - they try to evoke certain emotions. Putting the art of such great significance in the room of one of the brothers should be a clear indicator of the amount of respect and love the two of them share. Describing the emotional bond between them is mainly the prerogative of writers. But sometimes game design plays no less if not more meaningful role in the process of us as readers getting familiar with characters. The painting here becomes a subtle part of the plot as it highlights certain prerequisites of their relationship and prepares us for what is going to come next.

The latter is especially relevant to Vlad's route. The female portrait in the pureblood’s room is what takes background paintings in Ikevamp on a fundamentally new level - the level of plot-forming core.

Unlike those paintings I mentioned at the beginning, these ones are no longer a substitute for the room decor. Instead, they serve as a device that pushes the plot forward. It accumulates three major points that are relevant to the plot:

It adds the mystery element for triggering our curiosity. The portrait is ‘faceless’, and even though we all see the resemblance in features, there is this ‘if’ element. What if they decided to go with a classical Dracula plot? Eternal vampire loses his lover and waits for her to be reborn? Is this MC? Why can’t he remember her face?

The portrait itself allows us to get for a second into Vlad’s head and understand his feelings towards the mysterious woman. Vlad drawing her portrait is caused by the act of kindness she showed him. His entire motivation is connected to the single painting. She was the one who he wanted to be with. In order to do so, he had to become strong, to accept his tragic loss and move forward. The portrait serves as a silent reminder about what was his goal and why he chose the path he chose. 

It circulates the narrative. At the beginning, MC faces the challenge of being the third one in the relationship with Vlad and his unknown lover. She questions the identity of that unknown counterpart of hers and secretly wants to learn more about her. By revealing the truth of Vlad’s past and their connection, MC figures out who was the woman in the painting which in some way pushes her to find enough strength for making a certain groundbreaking decision. 

Finally, there is the third group of paintings that possess what I call ‘potential meaning’. These paintings maintain the main features of the two previous groups, namely, vague silhouettes combined with a rather clear narrative that somehow increases the possibility of them being more than a decorative object.

Take a look at the two paintings in Vincent’s room. In comparison to all other paintings these ones differ not only in terms of shape but also in terms of color. The lines seem to be more fluid, and the color palette is dominated by ochreous, blue and black which is typical for East Asian classical ink art. By taking a closer look, you can actually see the vague outlines of the sea and shrouded in mist mountains in the background. Personally to me such landscapes together with a specific composition angle remind of Hokusai’s Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji which can be a great allusion to Van Gogh’s obsession with Japanese prints and their role in his artistic career. 

The huge painting in Comte’s living room has been haunting me for years, I shall admit. It portrays a marine landscape with a single boat chasing the wild waters in the dark or right before the sunrise. When talking about marine art, the first person that comes to my mind is Ivan Aivazovsky. Yet, it is evident that Aivazovsky’s style was pure romanticism with heavy realistic elements, whereas this painting looks like it's more about light and colores rather than clear and precise lines. And also this sun, this strange orange sun..that can be spotted only in Claude Monet's Impression. Sunrise. 

The mansion’s copy is a darker mirrow image of the original work. Nobody knows why Comte chose this painting for the mansion, but isn’t it a bit of irony that the painting that praises France, the country that suffered from the war with Prussia and was on its way to revitalisation, is located in the house that is about to face the battle between the lesser vampires and their haunters or rather the figurative war of two different morals (we are yet to know about it, though)?

Another version is that the painting serves as a metaphoric description of the character. In various routes MC mentions how Comte reminds her of the sun that made manifest, and everything supports this claim to be true, from his golden eyes and hair, to the brightness of the room and..paintings that symbolize the master of the mansion.

Finally, I wouldn't forget about the massive backlash Impressionists had to face at the early stage of the movement’s existence. It was only until the 5th Impressionist exhibition in 1880 that the artists finally got praised by critics. Just a bit more than 10 years before the MC’s appearance. However, we know that the creation of the mansion had taken place before this event. So, my point is that probably Monet’s painting was purchased by the greater vampire during the times when Impressionists were still harshly criticized by the Salon. And if so, the display of the painting that represents the les misérables of the art world speaks so much volume about Comte’s character and devotion to fulfill what he perceives as his noblesse oblige - to support those in need, to help them reveal their talent no matter what social class they belong to. 

The game room’s central painting is another amusing detail as it’s completely out of mood. Playing cards, watching chess games or taking any other light leisure activity with a glass of brandy in your hand, you rarely expect to raze your gaze from the table only to stare at the image of ruins. Yet, this is what we get here - a typical capriccio painting like those of Alessandro Salucci and Leonardo Coccorante.

Capriccio artists dared to do something new in the history of art - they put real archeological signs into fantasy surroundings, sometimes from the same time period that the artists lived in. To an extent, they brought the ancient past and allowed it to live in the future, which is not a bad allusion to the original purpose of the mansion’s creation.  

And here is what we can spot in Shakespeare’s room. At first, I didn't think much about this painting in Will’s bedroom but something felt odd. And then I understood. 

You see, there’s this famous Vincent’s work named Cafe Terrace at Night. The painting is created from the north eastern corner that allows us to see the starry night without facing an obstacle in the form of the cafe's roof. 

But this is how the modern cafe looks from a different perspective. Yellow elongated building with two wide niches that serve both as windows and entrance. 

Do you see it, right? RIGHT?

I headcanon that Vincent was so eager to spoil his new friend with a present that he decided to redraw his favorite work and  give it to the bard. But being an empathetic and observant one, Vincent immediately figured out Will’s admiration of everything unique and rare, so he decided to create a completely new version of his own painting instead of just redrawing it from the same angle as he did with sunflowers. 

Aaand this is what we get in the living room. Random at first sight, the composition of various unrelated pictures actually makes sense. The most evident one is, of course, the image of theater curtains. What else should we expect to see in the manor of the great Bard of Avon? The same curtains, by the way, appear in almost every scene where MC and her suitor are invited to Shakespeare’s play.

Just a small detail, but I think this is one of those rare occasions when we can actually name the place Ikemen writers took inspiration from (apart from, of course, Louvre and the University of Paris). What helps us here is the curtains over which we spot golden metal lambrequin with a cartouche that imitates the image of the sun.

Such a prolonged lambrequin with the sun image (in honor of Louis XIV, the Sun King and also the father of the Paris Opera) in the center actually exists only in one Parisian theater - Opera Garnier, where in 1888 Shakespeare’s  Roméo et Juliette was staged.

Just to make sure, look at the curtains in some of the most popular theaters that existed during the historical period in Ikevamp -  Théâtre du Châtelet or the Opéra-Comique. You won't find a similar one.

Two last possible Easter eggs may be related to the two historical objects that existed during Shakespear’s era. The first one is still connected to the curtains for as you see, there were rumors (modern archeological findings prove them to be true) that the first venue of Shakespeare’s plays was called ‘the Curtain Theatre’.

And the second thing I want to point at is two images of the chair. Honestly, I highly doubt that a person like Will who has an almost narcissistic obsession with expensive staff would put a painting of such low value in his private apartment. But I can understand it, if this is not an image of  some random piece of furniture but the well-known Shakespeare’s Courting Chair, wherein, according to William Henry, ‘the bard was used to sit, during his courtship, with his Anne upon his knee’. 

Anyway, I hope it wasn't too much. Thank you for reading!

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

The Good People(@grosutina) have demanded, and here it is!

Some Movie recommendations for all you beautiful bastards out there😘

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Starting off with some italian goodness:

Cinema Paradiso (theatrical cut) - this is THE homage to cinema for me, one of my favourite ever endings, and Ennio Morricone's score is muah!

:::

Il Postino / The Postman (good companion to Cinema Paradiso I think)

:::

Babettes gæstebud /Babette's Feast

:::

Amadeus (1984) (you know me, of course it's here)

:::

The Fall (the treatiest of treats for your eyeballs)

:::

Trois Couleurs / Three Colours Trilogy: Blue, White, Red

:::

Terry Gilliam's Imagination Trilogy:

Time Bandits

Brazil (the 142 minute long version, my friend @dongtopus you might like this one since you were getting into Kafka, it's the closest to a kafkaesque nightmare I've ever seen)

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

:::

La Grande Bellezza / The Great Beauty

:::

Dangerous Liaisons (recommend the book too it's a great read)

:::

Triple Feature of Irish Pain and Dark Comedy™ aka The Brendan Gleeson Cinematic Universe: Calvary (2014)

In Bruges

The Banshees of Inisherin

:::

Bonus Irish Pain™:

Hunger

In the Name of the Father

:::

And some Irish light fun to take a breather after those:

Waking Ned / Waking Ned Devine

:::

Some Michael Haneke cuz he's quickly becoming a favourite (warning: messed up and heavy content alert with this lad):

Funny Games (he directed both the 1997 og and the 2007 american remake, I've only seen the 97 one but I hear you're good with either, with the 2007 remake actually being closer to Haneke's vision)

La Pianiste / The Piano Teacher

Das weiße Band / The White Ribbon

:::

A Field In England (a recent fave, 12 days of shooting, 2 fields, clever editing and sound design gave birth to the best wizard battle put to film)

:::

El Laberinto del Fauno / Pan's Labyrinth (it isn't as talked about as other Guillermo del Toro films but it's still my favourite of his)

:::

The Seventh Seal (reminder to self to watch more Bergman, this is the only one of his I've watched shame on me)

:::

Some Van Gogh goodness:

Loving Vincent (fuck it 2 pics for this one cuz I can't choose)

At Eternity's Gate

:::

Some Claymation and stop motion goodness:

The Adventures of Mark Twain

Anomalisa

To be Continued...

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: What is art?

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Alien: *Walking through museum with friends.*

Alien: *Stops at painting*

Alien: What is this picture of?

Human Friend: *Walks over and sees painting*

Human Friend: It is the depiction of the death of Julius Caesar.

Alien: Who is that?

Human Friend: He was a general of the roman republic far back in human history.

Human Friend: This piece is an imagination of the moment he was murdered in the halls of the roman senate.

Alien: Are those around him his enemies?

Human Friend: And his friends as well.

Alien: Why would they seek to murder him?

Human Friend: If I remember correctly this event took place after many years of civil war; Roman fighting Roman across multiple continents with each believing themselves to be in the right until finally Caesar emerged victorious.

Human Friend: But when the war ended many believed Caesar would become a tyrant and rule the people with an iron fist, and so a group of them came together and struck him down to prevent such a thing from happening.

Alien: Why would anyone wish to make such a horrible moment into art?

Alien: Look at him. *Points at Caesar*

Alien: A great man on the floor with his hands up begging for his life while his once friends strike him down.

Alien: Do humans find joy from witnessing such violence?

Human Friend: A misconception you may have is assuming that human art is only meant to inspire the more positive range of emotions.

Human Friend: In reality there are thousands of pieces that are created to inspire feelings of dread, sadness, loneliness, anger and so forth.

Human Friend: Such as this piece. *Points at artwork next to death of Caesar*

Human Friend: This one was painted by one of our peoples greatest artists Vincent Van Gogh.

Alien: Is the human in pain?

Human Friend: Yes.

Human Friend: The picture is often considered to be a reflection of the artist himself during his later years as he became increasingly depressed and saddened.

Alien: This only further proves my point that humans elate themselves on the suffering of others.

Human Friend: What you call suffering we call the human condition.

Human Friend: Look closely at the old man.

Alien: *Leans forward to examine*

Human Friend: Can you not see the detail in the brush strokes? The care he has for figure and form?

Human Friend: Here is a man in the depths of despair and he uses that raw emotion to imbue his art with it; to make it come alive.

Human Friend: Life is not easy. It is full of moments of equal joy and misery in an endless waltz until we finally return to the earth that bore us.

Alien: So what you are saying is that humans use all of their emotions when composing artworks.

Human Friend: Correct.

Human Friend: Some pieces are meant to inspire singular emotions, while others can induce multiple.

Human Friend: In the end though it is still possible that as individuals we may find some entirely different meaning in a particular piece that is in contrast with the more widely accepted ones.

Alien: Then which is right?

Human Friend: All of them.

Alien: That can’t be possible.

Human Friend: What a piece inspires inside you is unique to the individual.

Human Friend: There is no right or wrong way to experience art and that is part of the beauty for it.

Alien: You humans have an apparently overly complex for artistic works.

Human Friend: Just wait until you hear our music.

Human Friend: There’s this genre called pirate metal I want to introduce you to.

[docgold13]

yes! please tell me more of your detest for John Wayne. My dad loves that guy and I need ammo for arguing that the dude was a douche

I don’t think you’ll make much headway with your dad.  Once someone has their mind set on something, cognitive dissonance can become a force stronger than gravity.  

But I’m happy to try to help out.  

Anyways, John Wayne he played a significant role in creating the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals (MPA) in 1944 and was voted in as its president in 1949. This was an anti-communist organization that blacklisted industry professionals suspected as being in any way shape or form associated with the communist party.  He was additionally an ardent and vocal supporter of the infamous House of Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) as well as the work of Senator Joseph McCarthy. 

Despite his dodging the draft for World War II, he continued to make war films presenting himself as this great leader of the armed forces.  Furthermore, his movie,  The Green Berets, was an overt attempt toward rallying support for the ruinous Vietnam War.

Wayne did not just hate communists, he also hated those who were gay.  He lambasted  Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight’s characters in Midnight Cowboy, calling the pair ‘a couple of f@gs.’  He also accosted Kirk Douglas over his role as Dutch artist Vincent Van Gogh in the film Lust for Life. He was reported to have said, “Christ, Kirk, how can you play a part like that? There’s so goddamn few of us left. We got to play strong, tough characters. Not these weak queers.”  There were rumors that Wayne was a closeted homosexual and that some of his hatred may have been a sort of reaction formation, but who knows if that is true.

He also didn’t give a damn for Native Americans, whom he deemed as savages.  “I don’t feel we did wrong in taking this great country away from the Indians,” he said, “Our so-called stealing of this country from them was just a matter of survival. There were great numbers of people who needed new land, and the Indians were selfishly trying to keep it for themselves.” 

But perhaps he strongest animosity was reserved for Black Americans.  “I believe in white supremacy,” he said in a notorious 1971 interview with Playboy magazine.  He added that he did not want Black people working on his films until they became “educated to a point of responsibility.”

He also made disparaging remarks about Jewish people and was entirely against any form of social welfare programs.  

Apologies to anyone hurt by seeing all of this hateful stuff disseminated.   

[kurov1864]

Milgram characters as animals

I am so very high and sleep deprived so I apologize if my writing is whack

Amane: Cat. More specifically, a kitten. A traumatized one. She would be a very curious kitten. Always exploring around the house and very eager to try new things. She doesn't get shaken up by new people that easily unless they actually do something to her, and treats the owners with a degree of indifference. Pet her? She won't melt or purr. Call her name? Maybe a head turn if you're lucky. Try to pick her up? Hisses and scratches. Your hand will not escape unscathed. Death to the unbeliever.

Fuuta: Another cat. I think many people are gonna be cats but like. Oh well. Very aggressive. Will bite and hiss if you so much as try to touch him within the first month of getting him. After you break down his walls though, he'll allow you to touch him with minimal grumbling. Would absolutely 100% melt into your pets, unconsciously would purr then immediately stop when he sees you chuckling. Very touch starved so he'll stare at you from around the corner begging you to pet him with his eyes. Either he's a cat or a very angry, short and loud chihuahua.

Kotoko: Wolf. Pretty obvious. She's also not your pet, more like a wild animal that you befriended but you're not sure. Kinda hangs around your house, maybe she's protecting you? Or she could be seeing if you make a good meal. You honestly never know, since you're not a professional wolf reader and neither am I. Would only allow you to touch her fur once in a blue moon, if she growls then you're better off just staying away from her. She appreciates you leaving out food and water, though you would have to bring the bowls inside often seeing how she only comes back like once a month.

Mikoto: Raccoon. Why? I don't know. It's cute, so I'm gonna forcibly smash his character into a racoon stereotype. He's probably very friendly and comfortable around you, since he's been living in human neighbourhoods for a very long time. He tried becoming the new Vincent Van Gogh by dipping his tiny grubby paws in your paint and tracking it across the floor and walls. You don't mind much, it's kinda cute. Would have lived in your kitchen cardboards if you didn't babyproof the place, so now he just visits your house every day begging for food.

John: Doberman. Has that no-nonsense and constantly tired of the stupid shit you do face, especially since your safety is number 1 to him. Probably a rescue, so he'll be very on guard against you at first, but once he starts to really trust you, then he'll simply become on guard against the rest of the world. After all, you're the stupid human that keeps stubbing their toe or falling over nothing, so obviously you need his protection against this cruel and unusual force of nature called life. Loves head scratches though, probably the only time when he lets down his guard and allows himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

Haruka: Bunny. Listen. Bunnies can die of loneliness. That's him. That's him right there. Very shy at first, but also really clingy. He probably has a lot of health issues from constantly ignoring his need for survival (is that even possible?) to potentially spend more time with you. This makes you hand-feed him, so he just does it even more. Congratulations, you are now in a dependent relationship with a very blue bunny. Clap clap clap.

Muu: Pomeranian. Turn up your thermostat all you like but this girl is never going to stop shaking. She's also the shy type, but only at first. After you make it clear that you won't harm/sell/throw her away in any manner, then she just becomes your very spoiled daughter. Constantly demands your attention and so does her body that has what I like to call "the constitution of a Victorian orphan". Try to give her low-quality dog food? She won't even glance at it. Anything less then a 100$ dog shampoo and conditioner will make her fur fall off. Soon after you take her in, you'll be spending more than half your income on her. And if you even dare try to reprimand her for bad behaviour, oh what do you know now she's sulking and whimpering and acting as if she's Y/N and you're her evil stepmother trying to sell her off to the big bad alpha werewolf mafia boss CEO of Korea.

Mahiru: Golden retriever. Not a surprise. Jumps on you the moment you get home and showers you with love. She's like happy 24/7. How does she do it? We'll never know. But hey, at least now you have a miniature sun running around your house. You'll never have to pay electricity bills again! She is quite clingy though, so be prepared to start suffocating every morning when she pounces on you. Probably thinks she's a cat that can sit on your face and lap with little problems, but she's actually a very big and heavy dog that's half your body size. So no Mahiru, you can't keep trying to sit on them. You're going to crush them with your weight. I'm not fatshaming, I'm just trying to save a life.

Shidou: Birb. What birb? Just birb. Pretty chill for the most part. Idk, I don't really know much about Shidou. Either he's a birb or a turtle. Like the type that just sunbathes in an artificial light on an artificial rock 24/7. I think he would be a parrot, maybe. One of those white/gray ones, with a bit of yellow on their heads. Are those parrots? Dunno. He vibes to music pretty well, and also shows concern through very strategically placed pecks on your skin. Similar to John, he feels as if he has to take care of your stupid human tendencies so he collects items that he thinks would be useful and brings them to you. He's just not very good at picking out which items are useful, so don't blame him when he tries to bring a frying pan and accidentally dislocates his claws or something.

Yuno: Cat. Temperamental and only acts according to their mood. Store-bought or literally auctioned off. She gives off those smarty pants vibes, like she knows how to act to increase her value. She'll be very affectionate and well-behaved at first, but when you realize she's getting more moody and haughty, you'll ask the seller. Turns out that's just her natural personality and you've been deceived, but what does that matter? She's your pet so now you're obligated to take care of her for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not. Good thing she's absolutely adorable right? Only a monster would be able to say no to that face. And when she's in a good mood... boy you better drop everything you're doing and savor what little attention she'll give you. You think she's the pet? Nah. You're the pet and she took you in.

Es: Cat!!! Again!!! Very tsundere. Similar to Fuuta, but in a much more serious manner. I'm not sure how to describe it, like imagine they will just try to walk everywhere with a ~purpose~. So with this ~purpose~ they'll walk into your lap and subtly hint that they want head pats, and again with ~purpose~ they'll walk away when your stupid ass can't understand what they want, acting as if the whole time they're this evil mastermind and that whole drama sequence was to confuse you so you'll stay on guard around them.

Kazui: Horse. Desires freedom and whatnot. How did you even get a horse. How rich are you. Not very high maintenance, well as low maintenance a horse can get anyways. He's probably the only one that I wouldn't write something goofy for. Very fast horse, but he'll try to keep things moderate so he doesn't damage your slow-ass brain. I take that back I can totally imagine him doing something goofy. Sentimental, and also kinda delusional. Wants to ride off into the sunset type shit except that he's the main character so he's just running alone with no one riding him. Speaking of which, he low-key kinda hates anyone trying to ride him but you're okay I guess since you don't try to control him much so as long as he doesn't send you flying you just let him do whatever he wants.

Jackalope: ... He's literally a jackalope. Why am I even including him. I'll lock him up in a cage and hang him from my rooftop, praying that he gets struck by lightning.

[atheostic]

I hope that, if there is an afterlife, Vincent van Gogh knows that he's considered a great artist now and he's one of the most beloved artists in history.

I hope the people of Pompeii and the Titanic know they have not been forgotten.

And that Ea-Nasir is at least annoyed that he's become a punchline for jokes even thousands of years later.

[violettduchess]

Heya Violet! I'm going to request an ikevamp fic for the first time, so how about either of the Day 4 prompts for Leonardo? I'm excited to see what you come up with 👍

A/N: Hi @scorchieart 💜 Thank you for your request! This is for the Different Universe Same Love CCC hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

This combines scorchie's request with an anon request for Soulmates AU with Leonardo 💜

Leonardo x f reader

WC: 5254

"There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." -Vincent Van Gogh 

“I hate this,” you grumble as you check your phone for the hundredth time. Where the hell is this place? It feels like it's been hours of California coastline rolling past your window. Beautiful, yes. But also so inconvenient. You lean forward towards the front of the town car.

“Abel, how much longer?”

Your driver glances at you in the rear-view mirror, smiling good-naturedly. 

“Another 15 minutes, chérie.”

You flop back into the cushioned leather, sighing. If you had known this would be a part of it, you would not have taken the role. 

Maybe. 

Ok, fine. You probably would have taken it anyway. 

The story of a woman who breaks all tradition to become a famous 19th century painter? You can practically hear Theo’s words in your ear all over again: “You want to be stuck in rom-coms forever or do you want to be taken seriously? Make art that matters?” The Dutchman is a tough agent, too direct for most actors’ fragile egos to handle but that’s why you like him. He is always honest with you.

Outside the town car window, the ocean continues to roll by, a blur of slate-gray and white. Picking up your phone for the hundredth time, you type in the name of the artist you’re on your way to see. 

Just like every time you’ve done it before, all you get is his Instagram page which is entirely too sparse and full of only half-finished paintings, close ups of brushes, a few small, charcoal sketches. Nothing about the man himself. 

You swipe Instagram away and tap on Spotify, closing your eyes and allowing a podcast about the Golden Age of Hollywood to help pass the remaining time.

“Love the vibe,” you murmur as you step out of the Mercedes, pushing up your tortoise-shell sunglasses in order to better take in the picturesque brown and white wooden house. It really does seem like something out of a Kinkade painting. It's perched on the edge of a plateau, facing a slope of green hillside that disappears into a smattering of gray rock. The rocks give way to a stretch of dark brown sand which leads you right to the blue-gray beauty of the Pacific Ocean. It's here the warm vibes end though. This beach is nothing like the sandy beaches of Southern California. This is something wilder, something sharper. There is no manicured, processed beach feeling here. This is nature allowing you into her world, the crashing of the waves onto the shore not an invitation but a reminder. You’re here with her permission.

Abel comes around, carrying your luggage and pauses, taking in the house. “It’s lovely,” he murmurs. 

You shoot him a Look. “It’s miles from just about anything. I hope Vlad knows what he’s doing.”

Vlad is the director of the film you are going to star in. The one who said you needed to spend some time with a real-life artist in order to understand the lifestyle, the thought process, the way of viewing the world. And he knew just the person. A friend of a friend, an artist of some small renown, who made money on the side by working as a consultant for various productions. He had invited you to stay with him for a few days, to teach you basic painting and drawing techniques so it would look realistic on film, and to answer any questions you had. Vlad vouched for him, claiming he was a good man, one he would trust his star with. 

You turn to Abel. “Only leave if I give you the sign.”

He smiles indulgently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll be fine. But I will wait until I see it.”

Steeling yourself, you gather your bags and make your way down the short driveway and up the dark wooden steps. There’s no doorbell so you knock loudly.

You aren’t sure what you expected. A man named Leonardo made you think he would be older with flowing white locks and a long wizard-like beard. What you did not expect was the door to be opened by a golden-eyed Adonis with ombre hair and one of the friendliest, most open smiles you’ve ever seen. 

“Benvenuta, cara mia. Welcome.”

That voice. Your heart is doing tiny backflips inside your chest as a horde of butterflies excitedly flutter their wings inside your stomach. It takes you a moment before you figure out the way words work again.

“Thank you.”

Behind your back, you wiggle two fingers at Abel furiously. 

The driver covers his grin with the back of his hand, nodding once to Leonardo in greeting before sliding back into the vehicle. He watches through the car window as Leo takes your bags and you follow him inside, the white wooden door closing behind you.

“Good luck, chérie,” he chuckles softly. Somehow, he is certain you will be just fine.

You are utterly charmed. The main house is small, and the guest house just behind it even smaller, but they are both unique, beautiful in their own ways. Everything is simple, clean. Wide windows keep the ocean in view at all times. In every room there is something to look at. A miniature painting of sunset over the water on the living room table. An antique nautical map hanging on the wall of the dining room. An oversized forest green couch that looks like it's just waiting for you to snuggle into it.

Leonardo has just brought your bags to the guest house, a one room structure with a brass bed, rustic homemade dresser, a small desk and a tiny en-suite bathroom.

“I know you are probably used to more luxurious accommodations.”

“No, this is lovely. Really.” You glance down at your phone, considering whether to post a picture to your socials and hear him laugh softly at the expression on your face. The sound settles itself into your bones, warm and welcoming.

“Reception is a bit shoddy out here. You have the best chance when you go to the living room.”

Tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, you flash him a smile. “Thanks for the tip.”

He holds your gaze a moment and you feel like sand, being pulled towards an irresistible ocean. 

“You must be starving. Let’s eat before I show you my studio.”

With a pleasantly full stomach and a glass of red wine in hand, you step inside the studio and gasp. Gone are the clean lines, the simplistic beauty of the rest of the house. Here is a world of color and chaos, paint and pandemonium, art and anarchy. Canvases are everywhere, paint pots and brushes, charcoal and sketchbooks. And while it may look like mayhem, there is a truth about it that stirs something inside you. This is the man behind the easy-going smile. This is his heart and soul made tangible, made material. 

He notices the way you’re looking around, sees the look in your bright eyes and he knows that you see it, the love he has for his craft. You're not some Hollywood actress looking down her nose at a mess. You're one artist taking in another artist’s medium and appreciating it. His heart unexpectedly shifts, sliding closer to some unseen edge. 

“This is…incredible.” You walk slowly through the space, stopping in front of whatever catches your eye. A half-finished sketch of a whale breaching the surface of the water. An anatomically correct drawing of the underside of a starfish. A canvas of yellows and oranges and reds, a practice in blending.

“How come I’ve never seen you post a finished painting on your social media?” You stop when you come to a whole row of them, leaning casually against the back wall of his studio. Crouching down, you inspect a painting of a man from behind, his arms spread out wide towards a turbulent, white-capped ocean, daring it maybe. Or welcoming it.

He shrugs, running his hand through his hair, a tick you’ll come to recognize as something he does when he is uncomfortable.

“I sell a few here and there. Not enough to earn a living but that’s what jobs like this are for, yeah?”

You rise slowly back to full height, taking a sip of the rich wine.

“Have you ever showcased your work?”

He scoffs as he lifts a paint-stained rag from one corner of his supply table and toys with it before tossing it right back.

“To what end? I paint for me. That is enough.”

That sounds like someone who is too scared to try. But you keep the words locked in your mind, aware enough to know that might be reaching a bit too deeply into his psyche for comfort.

“So….when do we begin?”

He smiles slowly and it burns through your body, warming you more than the alcohol.

“Tomorrow. Sunrise.”

All those hours you could still be sleeping. Instead of being warm and snug in your very cozy guesthouse, you are shivering on a beach, sitting on a blanket next to Leonardo as he flips open the sketchbook in front of you. He’s in an oversized brown knit sweater and jeans, looking like a model for some outdoor clothing company whereas you, trying to pull your fitted sweater down over your exposed lower back, look like some Hollywood wanna-be who wasn’t prepared for the cold California morning.

He places several small gray pebbles in front of you on the blanket.

“Sketch these.”

You tilt your head. “They’re rocks.”

“There is challenge in even the simplest of forms. Please try.”

You’re skeptical as you yank down once more on your sweater, sitting cross-legged and staring down at the pebbles. It can’t be that hard. Picking up the pencil, you begin trying to capture their form. 

It proves to be much harder than it looks. 

Your brow furrows as you look from your sketch, which is doing a fantastic job of being horrible, to the smooth stones in front of you.

“You must relax,” he murmurs as he scoots closer. “You’re gripping that poor pencil like you wish to strangle it.” He reaches over, covering your hand with his. You’re immediately hit with the faint smell of tobacco. Does he smoke? And something else….something earthy and rich and entirely too appealing for this early in the morning. His fingers, graceful and strong, carefully manipulate yours, sliding over your skin and leaving small ripples of heat in their wake. He touches your wrist, over the place where your heart is beating so quickly, tilting it just so. 

He holds you there, moving your hand like a puppeteer might the wooden cross of marionette. You watch as the pebbles slowly come to life, flowing from the tip of your pencil.

“Let go,” his voice, gentle as the morning breeze, deep as the sea, whispers in your ear. “You must let go and allow the pencil to do its job.”

Slowly he removes his hand and the sudden lack of contact spurs a tiny whimper from your throat. Luckily, he mistakes it for dismay at his lack of coaching and chuckles.

“You continue on your own, cara mia.”

You’ve been called many things: The Girl Next Door, America’s Sweetheart but somehow, that nickname rolling so casually off his tongue suddenly means more than any of that. You’re smiling despite the cold, despite the wind, despite your stupid, impractical sweater.

Inhaling, you try again, the pencil less a tool in your hand as an extension of it. And while your pebbles don’t look amazing, they do look much closer to what you are trying to accomplish. 

“Well done,” he says, looking over your shoulder. “You're a quick learner.”

You smile at him, his words washing over you, warm as sunshine.

“Can I try something else? Maybe try the sand and the ocean?”

He nods, reaching for the hem of his sweater. The next thing you know he’s removed it and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaving you surrounded by soft wool that smells like Leonardo. Your heart stumbles.

“Si. Let’s try.”

My life has never been this disconnected from work and yet, so full, you think as you wrap the beige blanket tighter around your body, watching Leonardo paint. You’re sitting outside on the large porch, the breathtaking view of the sand dunes, the boulders, the sand and the endless sea stretched out before you like a slice of paradise.

You’ve been here almost a week and the world has changed. The bright lights of Hollywood seem so far away. Now you’re concerned with daylight and sunrises, the way light falls across an object or a person, how to capture its essence with charcoal and acrylics, watercolor and wax. You haven't even touched your phone other than to reassure Theo you are fine, doing well and learning a lot, soaking in the experience of being an artist so that you can find it again when the cameras are on you. You’ve abandoned your socials, only leaving a message saying something about the life of an actor and secret prep work that you can’t talk about. It’s technically not a lie.

You watch as Leonardo dips his brush into a red that looks far too bright and finds a way to make it exactly the right shade of sunset, adding an element to his painted sky that you didn’t even know was missing until he put it there. He’s relaxed, his body loose, movements like flowing water as he almost lovingly drags the brush along the canvas. He showed you how, a few mornings ago. You’ve been haunted ever since by the feel of his larger body behind you, the way he reached around, gently taking hold of your wrist, and showed you how to hold yourself, teaching your body the dance of a painter. He is patient, always answering any question of yours the best he can. And so intelligent. The other night you curled up on his overstuffed green couch to look through several of his notebooks, filled with sketches and half-finished designs for contraptions that looked more sci-fi than present day. One entire page was devoted entirely to drawing various animal wings. The next was an excruciatingly detailed drawing of his own hand.

He talks about art the way you talk about acting: a way to conduct emotion, to spark a connection between people. You feel like he understands when you explain how acting is a form of devotion to humanity, an expression of love. Most people roll their eyes when an actor begins talking about their craft. His smile tells you all you need to know about how well he truly does understand. 

He shakes you from your reverie when he joins you on the bench, wiping his hands on a towel and reaching for his glass of wine.

“And? What do you think?”

You tilt your head, pretending to study the easel with its beautiful interpretation of the actual sunset that is happening behind it. He has not replicated it exactly, but captured the symphony of colors, the dramatic brass of the oranges and romantic woodwinds of the pinks, the clouds with their warmly colored underbellies and of course, the ever present sea, gilded in gold.

“It’s beautiful, Leo.” 

“You like it, which means I’m pleased.” He takes another sip. “Consider it a gift, yeah?. It is, after all, our last weekend together.”

Those words carve themself into the moment, slicing away the peace you’ve been feeling. Dismay bleeds from your heart. You were going to have to face it, the fact that your time with him, magical as it has been, is coming to an end. But you had hoped, irrationally, that maybe if no one said it, you could just stay here, in this beautiful house with this beautiful man as long as you wanted.

Your face, the tool of your trade that you can usually control so well, betrays your thoughts.

“Cara mia.” He reaches out, his fingers curling inwards for a moment, hesitant. The man who never has a problem touching you when correcting your hand or positioning your arm now needs a moment of courage. Because this isn’t a teaching moment. Maybe none of them ever really were. He only knows that from the second he opened the front door and you were there, with your smile like sunshine and eyes bright with intelligence and excitement, he felt drawn to you like he's never been toward anyone before.

You turn your face into his touch, reaching up to cup your hand over his. You press a kiss into his palm. The lull of the waves is drowned out by the roaring of your heartbeat. And then he leans towards you, taking your face in his beautiful hands, and he kisses you. 

Your heart cracks open and oceans of desire and want and something else, something nameless underneath those wild waves of emotion flood you. He feels so good. This feels so right.

You kiss with the exhilaration of new lovers, wildly and without a care for anything else in the world. The sunset and her majestic colors be damned. There is nothing as beautiful as the wildfire of gold in his eyes, the melody of his breathing. You’re on his lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressed as closely as you can be and it isn’t enough. He slides his hands under your blouse, pressing the palms of his hands to your bare back. It isn’t enough.

You manage to tear your mouth away from him long enough to get out one word: “Inside.”

He stands up and you wrap your legs around him, his strong arms supporting your weight as he carries you inside the wooden house on the plateau, impatiently stealing every kiss he can before laying you down on the oversized green couch, covering your body with his. He softly growls your name in a way that sends fire cascading through your veins.

The sky outside darkens as the last rays of sunset disappear. Her show is over. You both belong now to the night.

Heart, say good-bye because you are no longer mine. You lay on your side, facing the open window of Leonardo’s bedroom. The ocean breeze, cool with night’s kiss, waves the pale curtains and skims over your skin, raising goosebumps along your bare arm and shoulder. 

You close your eyes, reveling in the heavy feeling of your body, tempest-tossed and satisfied, peppered with the light marks of your lovemaking. You're a goner. You’ve fallen overboard, heading further and further down into the churning depths of your feelings for Leonardo. And you’re not sinking. Not at all. You’re kicking your legs and diving, excited to explore the deep and all its mysteries.

He stirs in his sleep and you roll back to face him, watching as he slowly surfaces from whatever dream he was lost in. His warm eyes, framed by such dark lashes, flutter open. When he sees you, laying on your side, facing him, he smiles slowly and reaches out a hand.

“Come here, cara mia.”

The thought of resisting doesn’t even cross your mind. You slide over into his arms, marveling at the feel of his body against yours, strong muscles, long legs. He presses a kiss to your temple, then nuzzles your neck affectionately.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You smile, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. Now may not be the right time to tell him everything you’re thinking. You don’t want to scare him away.

“No thoughts. Just....” You slide your hand over his chest, over the lean muscles of his abdomen, and then lower. His golden eyes flare bright with immediate hunger. His lips part as he exhales.

With a groan he pulls you to him and you close your eyes, letting his greedy mouth and wandering hands take you away.

This is only the beginning after all. You have plenty of time to figure out what's next. 

A Year Later

“Now that’s just one review! The rest are all like it!”

You listen to Theo’s exuberant voice as he names all the various publications that are writing rave reviews about the film. Funny, everything you thought you ever wanted is coming true. You made a movie that is earning positive reviews across the board, with your performance hailed as a stand out, a tour de force unlike anything you’ve ever done. There’s already talk about awards and other dramatic parts and are you interested in endorsements?

And yet, you’re miserable.

Leaning back into the plush seat of the town car, you stop Theo’s voice message and tap on Instagram and, like a lemming drawn to a cliff, go to his page.

All comments are turned off and there is only one picture posted: a short message thanking people for their interest but he is on hiatus.

The post is six months old.

How did it all go so wrong? You had been so happy.

Your eyes fall closed and memories play themselves out in front of you, like a flickering movie reel from yesteryear.

You and Leonardo on his porch, cuddled together under a blanket as you watch the sunrise. He can’t stop touching you and you him.

Driving with him back to Southern California, his eyes widening when you pull into the driveway of your home, modest by Hollywood standards, a palace compared to his small wooden dwelling.

Your pool. Cold water. Hot mouths. His hand pressed against your lips, stifling your sounds even as he continues moving.

The paparazzi finding you after a few days of blissful privacy, snapping a shot of you two leaving Starbucks, his hand casually resting on your hip, thumb stroking the stripe of bare skin between your jeans and the hem of your shirt.

Your names splashed across gossip sites and social media. He gains thousands of followers in a matter of hours, people hoping he’ll post an image of the two of you together. An older picture of him from several years ago at an art gallery opening in SoHo is all they have and it is everywhere. And it is not enough. They want more.

They follow you home. They follow you to work. They follow you when you go out to eat. They follow you to appointments, to meetings, across town and back. They yell your name, they ask about him. They are relentless.

And then they start to follow him. To your home. To the restaurant where you’re meeting. To his home. They wait by the wooden house on the plateau, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and him. They yell your name, they ask about rumors, they demand to know when the wedding is.

They swarm you both like locusts blocking out the sun, sucking up all your air.

And then his paintings begin to sell. Never has there been such a demand. He can’t keep up. And he isn’t happy.

Because he says he did nothing to deserve it aside from being with you. No one cared before. He has not earned this success. It’s the side-effect of loving you. Side-effect, you repeat one night, staring at him across your marble kitchen island, that makes it sound like loving me is some kind of disease.

He cures himself by leaving. You wake up one morning and all his things are gone. He is a ghost who has vanished back into the nether of sea-spray and morning fog from whence he came.

All he leaves you with is a note, the paper torn from one of his notepads, in his messy, slanted writing: “I’m sorry.”

A note, and all the splinters of your broken heart.

And now you’re almost at your destination. The tiny bed-and-breakfast tucked away in a remote corner of the California coast. Your refuge from the rest of the world. The place you come to heal.

You’ve been here a few times since he left. The owners, Wolf and Jean, are like family. They took care of you before you became successful, when you were a starving artist looking for your big break, and have continued to do so even now, when you could easily stay at any five-star hotel across the globe but always come back here, to warmth and comfort.

The first time you came here after he left, they filled your room with macaroons, your favorite dessert. They must have heard the news from some entertainment program or maybe some celebrity news ticker. You could have killed the Starbucks barista who spoke to the press, saying how you suddenly were coming alone to pick up your coffee and how pale you were, your eyes red from crying.

Another time they subtly laid a newspaper on your bed. At first you weren’t sure why but then you saw the tiny article about Leonardo having a small but successful showing in Denmark, worlds away from the bright lights of Hollywood. Like a 1950’s schoolgirl, you had cut out the small black and white picture of him and folded it, hiding it in your wallet. Doing so felt both pathetic and comforting at the same time.

Another winding road, dipping between tree and rocky coast and then one final turn. The familiar blue and white building comes into sight and you can feel yourself breathing easier already.  The car slows to a stop and a moment later, Abel opens the door for you.

“We’re here, chérie.” His champagne-colored eyes have a twinkle to them which leaves you wondering if he knows something you don't.

Forever ago, this place used to scare you with its pointed roof and close proximity to the edge of a very steep cliff. But it’s become your home away from home and you’re soothed by the sight of it.

“I’ll just get my—” Your weekend bag is already on the ground next to you and the town car is halfway down the drive. You frown slightly before hoisting up your bag. Well, he was sure in a hurry.

You bound up the familiar steps, opening the friendly blue door and step into the foyer.

“Jean? Wolf?”

Odd, they would normally be here to meet you, food and drink in hand.

You glance around, taking out your phone to make sure that you had sent them the correct date and time when you spot something hanging on the wall. Your fingers go numb and your phone falls, landing with a harmless thud on the thick carpeting.

Hanging on the wall is a new painting. It’s a woman, sitting on a beach at sunrise, wrapped up in an oversized, cozy brown sweater. Her head is tipped back, eyes closed, a serene expression on her face. It’s soft and romantic. Not a brushstroke wasted nor a color excessive. 

The sea is a deep gray-blue. 

The sky is a garden of pinks and lavenders and orange. 

The woman is you.

You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

How....

“Cara mia.”

Like an apparition he is suddenly standing there, in the doorway. Not some memory or picture or dream, but Leonardo, flesh and blood, right there in the same room as you. The sight of him hits you like the full force of a typhoon, draining all the color from your face and sending you back a step.

As you recover from your shock, you notice now how nervous he is. His hands, normally so strong and steady, whether creating art or touching you, are shaking. He has dark circles under his golden eyes, shadows of what has been haunting him.

“Leonardo.” His name is twisted upon itself, hollow and aching when it passes your lips. 

“May I speak? I have something to say to you. Please."

You nod, your breath held prisoner in your lungs, your wounded heart limps in circles in your chest, aching at the sight of him.

He draws a deep breath.

“I was a fool. I pushed you away because I was afraid. Your world is so much bigger than mine and instead of joining you, proud to be by your side, learning how to navigate new waters, I ran.” He pushes a hand through his hair, an inhale needed to steady his nerves. “That was wrong. I hurt you. I’m so sorry, cara mia. So deeply sorry for how stupid I was. I…I regretted it immediately but it was too late...Dio, sono un idiota.” 

He shakes his head, defeated. The failure of words in the face of what he did is stark and he finds himself unable to go on. Nothing can begin to explain the festering regret he's lived with from the moment he walked out your door. He isn't good enough with words to explain how the minute he was heading away from you all he wanted to do was to turn back. How without you the world was drained of its vivacity, its color. He trapped himself in a gray existence of his own making and now his escape lies solely in your hands.

You breathe in and out, taking a moment before you respond.

"You did hurt me. Badly. But…." You take a second, searching for the right words. "I could have helped prepare you for what it means to be with someone like me. It was so much to ask of you to just be ok with your life suddenly being turned upside down. For that, I'm sorry."

Silence grows between you, thick as brambles and just as thorny.  Neither of you can meet the other's gaze. It hurts, every second that ticks by without a word. Neither of you knows what to say, neither wants to leave. It is Leonardo who finally clears his throat, a throat where so many words are bottlenecking in their fury to get out.

"I'll leave you in peace then." 

The words are clipped, his accent thick as emotion chokes him. The final, tenuous connection between you is close to crumbling. He's about to turn away when one word shoots straight from your heart like a rocket.

"Wait!!"

He freezes, his sunrise gaze locking with yours. Dare he have hope…..

The minute you start towards him he rushes to meet you.

And then you're in his arms and your cheeks are wet and he's holding you so tightly your ribs feel crushed but it doesn't matter because he's turning and turning, the world is spinning, your heart is rising light as a feather, and then your feet touch the ground again and he's showering your face with kisses, painting you in his love, holding the back of your head, whispering your name breathlessly over and over and over, a song, a declaration, a prayer.

You hold on to his neck, your laughter as bright as sunlight across the waves, returning his kisses with ones of your own, all over his beautiful face, kisses pulsing with hope, with desire, with promise.

He leans back, lowering his mouth to your ear and whispers. His words engrave themselves onto your heart and you pull away to answer him the only way you can answer something like that: with a kiss deep as the sea, tender as the night.

You've found each other again. And you'll never again be parted.

(What did he whisper? This fic is acrostic so check out the first bold word of every section) 💜

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

[lukkabloom]

Fun facts abt residents according to Ikevamp Radio (ヴァンなま) Part 3

Continuing down the line with episodes 8-10!! These are getting longer bc it's getting more and more chaotic and funny

Episode 8: Makki and Morishi in Vincent and Sebas cosplay!!!!

Morishi (referring to Makki’s amazing cosplay) “I can’t destroy the atmosphere of the game (so I have to look good)… well I kinda already did (destroy it) but…” (the 2nd sentences refers to the fact he says weird things in his “I love yu” segment)

Another thing the two did that was cute—Morishi: does driving motion w/his hands Makki: “You don't see taxi drivers so handsome like you. I would be your customer anytime”

Morishi: “Maybe I should become a driver? Haha”

Also!! Makki: “Is Vincent cute?" Morishi: “Yes, Vincent’s cute. Makki’s cute too”

“I love yu” segment coming up!! Sebas starts out by saying “Sigh. Baths are really nice. It’s so nice that I can forget about the fact that I wasn’t nominated in the ever-so popular Ikemen series election (this was during the Ikemen election of 2018)

Also when Vincent enters the bath, Sebas is like “well, well. If it isn’t Master Vincent, whose route was just released and is gaining popularity by the minute.” (This episode celebrated Vincent’s jp route release) and then continues “Congratulations on your route release” to which Vincent’s confused. And then Sebas coughs and says “please don’t mind me”

Vincent likes oden, thanks Sebas for always cooking delicious food

Sebas stops breathing for a sec, then says “Ugh! As expected of a route-released character. So bright!”

Vincent’s worried abt Sebas’s weird attitude, Sebas reassures him that everything’s fine

The two bathe together so much now that it’s almost like a routine

MC is sick in this episode? Sebas brought her okayu (porridge), she happily accepted

Vincent wants to make her porridge as well, asking Sebas if he should put ginger, tabasco, or habanero to warm up her body. Sebas says “she will probably explode if you do that”

Saddened, Vincent proposes to peel apples, Sebas answers “Nononononono. It’s dangerous.”

Vincent: “It’ll be fine. I’ve actually gotten better at cooking. I can make scrambled eggs now”

Theo used to look after Vincent when he’s gotten sick

Sebas gave Vincent chocolates for valentine’s?? It was chocolate in the shape of a sunflower bouquet??? (how is that possible to make???) For Napoleon, Sebas gave him chocolate in a shape of a horse, Leo was given a chocolate in a shape of cigarettes (that’s kinda funny bc in Japan there are these snacks called Choco Cigarettes which are basically that)

Sebas gave Isaac apple-shaped chocolates, who, according to Sebas, made a weird face upon receiving it

Vincent’s in awe, reaffirming his theory that Sebas can do anything

So Sebas confirms that he only gave the gifts to the residents nominated for the Ikemen series popularity poll (Napo, Leo, Isaac, and Vincent—idk who the last person is) and wishes luck to Vincent (Vincent’s just confused but is like “I’ll do my best, I guess?”)

A new segment of the show called “van Gogh and Sebas and sometimes you!!” Where the viewers can vote on the situation they’d like to be in, and Morishi and Makki will act it out as Vincent and Sebas. The chosen situation was “where you are feeling down, and Vincent and Sebas try to make you laugh by doing funny things” and OMG the things they do are FUNNY AS HECK (aka very ooc), they just scream “yeaaaaaahhhhh!!!”

In the script they were given it literally just says “YEAAAAHHHHH!!!” and everything else was adlib

So next up in the “van Gogh’s drawing section” instead of drawing, they made paper-clay dolls of their characters and… well it was interesting to say the least. I recommend just watching the livestream itself for the experience

The two asked the audience if they even wanted the paper-clay dolls, and they were surprised by the “yes”s 

Anyways my fav segment!!! “Can you tell me… your name?” This one was even funnier by the fact that the camera continued to be focused on the Vincent and Sebas clay dolls while the two said their amazing lines. Well, it was supposed to be like that but there were so many voices of laughter and the two VAs couldn’t take it seriously so the camera zoomed out to their faces

Vincent’s line was “The wind here’s a bit too cool, so come here.” Most were serious names, but the last one was “Sebas, the wind here’s a bit too cool, so come here,” and Morishi just entered into the camera frame (it was zoomed into Makki while he was saying his lines)

Sebas’s chosen line was “Woosh! I have seen the inside of your skirt! (しゃっ！スカートの中いただきました)” (idk even know how to translate it, basically Sebas saw your undies from under your skirt when the wind blew too hard) the facial expression Morishi has while saying this line is so funny

There was “Yoshihiko, woosh! I have seen the inside of your skirt!” Makki replies, “I don’t wear one lol”

Episode 9: feat. Leonardo’s VA Tsuda Kenjiro once again once more

Tsuda stumbled on his line when introducing himself. He went “Leonar—aahhhhh” (he was trying to say something like "The voice of Leonardo da Vinci, Tsuda Kenjiro or smth")

They did a poll bc they were curious on the ages of the audience (0.8% were elementary schoolers, 3.3% middle school, 4.6% high, 13.3% college/university, 78% adult/workers) they think the children are watching by themselves, not w/their parents/guardians (they need to make the show available for all ages)

Very random but there’s a segment (that I never talk abt that’s been existing since the 1st episode) called “Motivation! Energy! Suzuki!” (やる気！元気！鈴木！) where a self-proclaimed low-level Cybird employee Suzuki-san introduces events and gachas happening @ the time of the livestream (you can tell why I skip this section. It doesn’t really apply now) Anyways, so she uses her phone during this segment so the VAs can pull on gachas and listen to voice lines in featured cards, and when her phone went back to her lock screen (accidentally) it showed Mozart’s drawing of Vincent from Vincent’s pre-route release and I thought it was neat

So to the thermae skit!!! This is probably one of my fav thermae skit episodes bc it’s so chaotic

Just like usual, Leo and Sebas sing the song whenever they are a part of the thermae episode (the same song from episodes 1 & 3)

Vincent notices that Leo and Sebas are acting a bit weird, the two join Vincent in the bath to talk about it

Leo asks what Vincent thinks of when he says “spring,” Vincent says that spring reminds him of cherry blossoms and he loves them

Leo thinks of the word “farewell” when thinking of spring, then tells Vincent that he has something to inform him

Leo’s planning to leave the mansion, Vincent’s confused asks him if he fought w/Comte

Sebas urges Vincent to be calm and let Leo continue. Leo describes that has a life-long dream of wanting to be a basketball player (I’m not even sure if basketball even exists during this time??)

Vincent is confused, but Leo continues “I know it’s not like me to say that. Besides, no one has ever heard of a basketball player who's a vampire. So I tried to give up. But nothing I do will let me forget about it!” 

Vincent: “Forget about what?”

Leo: “The sound of a basketball bouncing off the floor!” (Sebas: “dun, dun, dun, dun, dun" <- that's the sound of a basketball hitting the floor) Leo: “It’s almost as if god is telling me to not give up on my real dream”  (Sebas: “dun, dun, dun, dun, dun. Ando-sensei, I want to play basketball.  [←What reference is this idk] dun, dun, dun, dun, dun")

Leo: “So I’ve finally made up my mind. I’ve decided to leave the mansion and go to the Americas.”

Vincent is confused, and during this time, Sebas starts “I’m sorry to interrupt while you are deep in thought, but I also have something to tell you, Master Vincent”

Vincent: “Wait, you’re not going to say that you’ll be leaving the mansion too, right?”

Sebas: “It’s exactly that.” Vincent: “N-no way.”

(So apparently Sebas has been working in the mansion for 3 years?? I’m guessing MC is here rn so… idk more new info ig)

Sebas: “I’ve been really wondering what it means to come face-to-face with others… And my conclusion has led me to… wrestling.” (Vincent's confused even more)

Sebas: “In the sport called wrestling, you face an opponent without any gear. It is the ultimate definition of coming face-to-face (literally) with other’s bodies.”

(IT JUST GETS FUNNIER FROM HERE) 

Leo: “The two of us, in 2020, desire to compete in the Olympics held in Japan.” Sebas: “I believe my goal is to shoulder the Japanese flag (日の丸).”

Leo & Sebas: “(Master) Vincent. The two of us will be leaving this mansion!”

Vincent: “So… you’ve already made your decision. Then, I can’t stop you. Honestly, I’m a little—no. I’ll miss you a lot. I thought of you two like family.”

Leo & Sebas: “F-family…”

Vincent: “But! I shouldn’t do anything like stopping you from achieving your dreams, right? I-I’ll be watching over the two of—”

Sebas: “Ahhh! Stop!”

Vincent: “... ‘Stop?’”

Sebas: “My chest is hurting so much, I can’t continue doing this! Master Leonardo!”

Leo: “Ooooii, Sebas! Do it properly til the very end....”

Leo reveals that April 1st that’s coming up soon, aka, April Fool’s and everything that they stated previously was a lie. Sebas apologizes, willing to do anything to seek forgiveness from Vincent

Vincent is relieved, saying he can’t be angry at the two bc the happiness he feels from being able to spend more time w/the two overpowers the feeling of anger.

Sebas says phrases like “viewers” and “broadcast” confusing Vincent, but Leo tells him not to worry since it’s Sebas’s usual “meta-fictional expression/breaking the 4th wall”

Afterwards, Vincent says “I forgot to tell you two something. Actually, I’m not a big fan of baths because they’re too hot.”

Leo & Sebas: “EEEEHhhhhhhh!!”

Vincent: “It's a lie. Sorry. I wanted to tell one. Haha. To be honest, I really like baths!”

(I can’t believe I translated almost the whole skit that took so much time. I hope I don’t do that again... I will do it again)

“Can you tell me… your name?” segment comin up!!! Dang Leo’s line “Come here, closer.” his VA has such a good voice I’m swooning

Sebas’s line “Do you want to eat dried squid (atarime)?” Is just so random?? Like usually his lines are funny but at least related to the season or holiday at the time of the broadcast, but you can literally eat dried squid any time of year.

Anyways onto the names being called. There was “Atarime, do you want to eat dried squid?” and “Makki, do you want to eat dried squid?” w/Makki quietly replying “yes, yes.” There was also Tsuda-san and oyaji (dad).

Episode 10: for the first time in this radio the VAs are doing it in front of an audience

(Idk why this link looks a bit weird)

They do this episode in their cosplay which looks amazing as usual

Morishi had Vincent’s Drama CD, and wanted both Vincent and Makki to sign it, addressed to him. Also wanted Makki to draw both Morishi and Makki’s face on it (Makki did all that)

Makki said that Morishi is slowly eating at Sebas's character (basically Sebas turning into Morishi himself)

The return of the “van Gogh and Sebas and something you!!” segment!!! Lmao all the situation descriptions are so long. The chosen situation was “Protecting you from a suddenly-appearing enemy. However, Vincent and Sebas can’t decide who will hold them back, instead arguing against each other” One of the choices was the one they did last time, and Makki was like “pls don’t choose that one” (the one where they try to make you laugh)

Vincent: “We can’t hold them back. Let’s divide the work. One of us will take her (MC) and run away while the other holds back the opponent.”

Sebas: “A very smart decision. In that case, Master Vincent, I’ll leave everything to you here.” takes you away

Vincent: “Eh? Sebas? Isn’t it typically the opposite?”  Sebas: “Eh?”  Vincent: “It looks like we need to have a discussion”

Vincent: “Hey, strong opponent,”  Sebas & Vincent: “wait a moment!”

Vincent’s reasons as to why Sebas should stay is bc Sebas can do anything, so he should be able to hold back the enemy.

Sebas: “Master Vincent, you have more hit points (hp) than me” (since when was this a RPG??)

Vincent: “But above my hp, it says I’m poisoned”   Sebas: “but you only lose 1 health for each poison damage. I’m paralyzed, so—” Vincent: “You’re paralyzed?” Sebas: “and I’m cursed, so I should get away first”

Vincent: “But see, I don’t have any gear equipped.” Sebas: points to Vincent's scarf “But you have your scarf”

Vincent: points to Sebas’s vest “But this jacket here—it gives 100 defense, right?”   Sebas: “I got it. I’ll just take it off” Sebas takes off his outer jacket

Vincent: “Wait, Sebas…”  Sebas: “And then, finally—” Vincent: grabs Sebas's inner jacket “you’re wearing two jackets?”

The discussion was going nowhere, so they decided to end with rock-paper-scissors. Sebas won against Vincent. Vincent: “Sebas escaped, but I’ll do anything for her.” (he says this thrice, showing how salty he is)

Makki said this happens in a parallel world, different from the typical ikevamp period

Thermae episode coming up!! Aka they become idols!!

MC looked tired recently, from overworking and stress, so Sebas came up with an ultimate plan named “I want to make her happy! So we will become idols!”

Vincent doesn’t know what an idol is, Sebas describes it as someone who can sing and dance and make others happy. Vincent’s not sure if they can be something as amazing as that

Sebas: “With your pretty face, dignified personality, and angelic smile, you have all the attributes of an idol”

Vincent: “Sebas too, works hard all the time, and both your personality and appearance is very cool.” Sebas: “thank you for the compliment. Recently, I’ve been feeling that one of my charm points, my coolness, has been challenged.” (It's prob bc you're so weird in these skits, Sebas!!)

Sebas creates rules to become an idol. “Rule #1: an idol’s introduction must be catchy!” Vincent can’t think of one on the spot, so Sebas pre-made one for him. 

Sebas: “Hii! I come from Japan. I’m known as Sebas, aka Sebastian. My job as a butler is always done in a relaxed manner—” Vincent: “Relaxed!” Sebas: “controlling everyone with a cool stare—” Vincent: “Control!” Sebas: “I always understand my position. I keep my emotions in check—” Vincent: “Check!” (Vincent’s chanting Sebas’s words btw) Sebas: “But for tonight, I can express my feelings.”

Anyways it’s Vincent’s turn. Vincent: "Hai! From Groot Zundert, I’m everyone’s angel, Vincent! My hair texture is fluffy!” Sebas: “fluffy!” (Sebas is chanting now) Vincent: “My mood is fluffy!”   Sebas: “fluffy!”  Vincent: “I want to surround you fluffily (?), help you relax with my angelic aura! But… (he suddenly gets serious) don’t forget that I’m actually a man.”

(Both Sebas & Vincent’s lines are supposed to rhyme but my tiny brain doesn’t form great words to do that so you’ll get the literal translation here :PP)

Vincent says he’s embarrassed from doing that, and feels his face getting hot. Sebas says they should get going to the next page of the idol adventure

Vincent’s like “We’re striving to be idols, right? By the time we get there, I feel like she will have recovered…” Sebas: “...” Vincent: “You didn’t realize that, Sebas? You must really like her…” Sebas: “It seems like it…”

They decide to visit her instead after the bath to make her feel better and help her improve

Also I really wasn’t expecting so many ppl to be interested in this??? Anyways I finished all the episodes so as I promised the next parts will be coming out in the next two days :))

[journalofanoldsoul]

The Language of Flowers 💐

The language of flowers, also known as floriography, is a symbolic language that uses flowers to communicate messages, feelings, and emotions. It has been used throughout history as a way to convey sentiments that were considered too delicate or inappropriate to be expressed directly.

The origins of floriography are somewhat unclear. However, it is believed to have become popular in the Western world during the Victorian era, which lasted from the mid-1800s to the early 1900s.

During this time, it was considered improper for people to express their feelings directly, especially when it came to matters of the heart. As a result, people turned to flowers as a way to convey messages of love, friendship, and other emotions. Floriography quickly became a popular way to communicate sentiments through the use of flowers, with different flowers and colors representing specific meanings and messages.

It is thought that the practice of floriography was influenced by earlier cultures, including the ancient Greeks, who associated certain flowers with their gods and goddesses, and the Persians, who used flowers as symbols in their poetry.

Today, the language of flowers continues to be used as a way to communicate emotions and messages, although it is not as widely practiced as it was during the Victorian era.

Here are some specific examples of floriography in paintings during the Victorian era:

"Ophelia" by John Everett Millais - This famous painting depicts the character Ophelia from Shakespeare's "Hamlet" floating in a river surrounded by flowers. The flowers in the painting, including daisies, violets, and pansies, are believed to have been carefully chosen to represent specific emotions and messages. For example, the daisies symbolize innocence and purity, while the pansies represent love and remembrance.

"Flowers in a Glass Vase" by Édouard Manet - This still life painting features a variety of flowers, including roses, lilacs, and daisies, arranged in a glass vase. Each flower in the painting is carefully placed and arranged to convey a specific meaning, with the roses representing love and the lilacs symbolizing first love.

"Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" by John Singer Sargent - This painting features two young girls holding lanterns among a garden of flowers, including carnations and lilies. The painting is believed to have been inspired by the language of flowers, with the carnations representing fascination and the lilies symbolizing purity and innocence.

"Irises" by Vincent van Gogh - This painting features a bouquet of irises, which were believed to represent faith and hope during the Victorian era. The bright colors and bold brushstrokes in the painting were meant to convey a sense of joy and optimism.

"The Roses of Heliogabalus" by Lawrence Alma-Tadema - This painting depicts the ancient Roman emperor Heliogabalus suffocating his guests with a rain of rose petals. The roses in the painting are believed to have been chosen for their symbolic meanings, with the red roses representing passion and the white roses representing innocence.

I hope you've enjoyed this post.

xoxo

J.

[lettersfromvincent]

“This morning I still have a lot of work to do, I see that it isn’t easy and will no doubt become much more difficult, yet have unfaltering hope that I’ll succeed, and I’m also convinced that I’ll learn to work by working, and that my work will become better and more substantial.”

Letter #115. Vincent Van Gogh to Theo van Gogh. Amsterdam, Monday, 21 and Tuesday, 22 May 1877.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

"Ask me anything" huh? Can I ask you to rant about stuff you love about Doctor Who for a handful of paragraphs, with the additional requirement that you cannot use correct grammar NOR can your statements be fully coherent?

Doctor Who is like 50% fun nonsense and I think commentaries on it should reflect that. No elaborate and precise statements, just pure joy unhindered by foolish concepts such as "making perfect sense".

I was waiting until I was close to going to bed to answer this because this really needs my half-asleep brain to answer properly. (Or improperly, in this case.) Now, onto as grammatically improperly as I can make this (hopefully I pulled this off. like to think I did!):

you know what i love about doctor who? i love that this show covers every single genre in the universe. that it is horror and comedy and historical fiction and sci fi and alternate history and dystopian and myths and steampunk and biopunk and murder mystery and western and fairytale because genre doesn't apply, because the doctor is a mad man in a box telling the story, except that they're not, the doctor's not the one telling the story, because this is really a story about the companions of the doctor, the people who are reflections of them, the people who become the doctor, the people who were doctors all along, the people who were kind and brave and traumatized and curious and above all, wanted to see the stars, because this is a story about the stars, about the grand expanse of space and time, about everything that ever was and ever will be, but the thing is, the mechanics of the show and how seasons are shot and that no actor can ever stay young forever, because the show is made with real people, everyone has to move on, and that's the beauty of it, isn't it? that people have to move on.

writers and actors always have to move on but with doctor who, because some genius (affectionate) in the 60s decided that regeneration would get to be a mechanic in the show we get to have an eternal canon, we get to have renewal, we get to have companions reflect back on the doctor in an infinite number of batshit insane and unhinged ways, we get to see hope and grief and a bottomless fall and an infinite rise because the doctor cannot die even though everyone around them can BUT ALSO because this show is about travelling, about running, about having the entirety of everything that has ever existed or will exist or can't exist or might exist at our fingertips.

as a result you can have episodes like midnight and partners in crime in the same season and no one will bat an eye, you can have the farting calcium invasion-of-the-body-snatchers be the monsters that propel two of the best character pieces i've ever seen in my entire life, you can have capitalism critiques involving fish poop under the thames, you can have them visit the greatest people that will ever live and the worst, you can have them inspire artists and scientists before they die and that's just as important as the aliens or saving the world, you see, because at the end of the day doctor who is about love, it's about the small moments as well as the big saves, it's about wilfred staring at the stars and amy demanding her imaginary friend show up to her wedding and harriet jones worrying about her mother and about danny admiring the fact that a student said please and about ryan and graham learning to ride a bike together and about jackie being the last person that mickey said goodbye to in journey's end, it's about love and character development and charles dickens and vincent van gogh getting to smile and laugh before they die, it's about the love, you see?

doctor who is about running as far and as fast as you can because even though you're more afraid than anyone who has ever existed you have to see them all, you have to love them all, because you have so much love you can't contain it in one heart, that's why you have two hearts, because you love so much, too much, and you will never find peace, you will never find an ending, but right here, right now, you can have this. and that will never be enough, it can't be enough, but it still matters.

because the love was there.