#van gogh t-shirt

[andampersandstudio]

Van Gogh Sunflowers t shirt Link HERE

#impressionism #painter #vangoghart #photography #picasso #vangoghtee #modernart #artgallery #paintings #painting #museum #artistsoninstagram #monet #watercolor #love #vangogh #artoftheday #art #artwork #drawing #vincentvangogh #contemporaryart #starrynight #artist #oilpainting #gallery #arte #paint #vangoghmuseum #vangoghtshirt 

[got-to-go-my-own-way]

[honeycombhank]

3/20/24

I went to open mic and saw some friends and talked quite a lot with people! My brother was on time with setting up and there were so many people ready to play! It was a lot of fun.

I am feeling quite over weight for what I’m usually comfortable with being in my body but I always seem to manage it okay and I’ll be eating more fruits and vegetables and working out more soon here so I’m trying to give myself grace but dang it’s hard some days.

[mumintroll]

guyz i have to dress up as a 'dutch icon' for a society thing on thursday and im so stuckkk im going to try and get rabbit ears and draw an x on my nose to be miffy but idk if i'll be able to find the ears on time. does anyone have any ideas for a backup option thats easy and not too involved 😭

[anti-ao3]

i'm probably going to sound like a boomer but i'm getting kind of sick of "immersive" art exhibitions. i liked van gogh's, but it only becomes more obvious to me that these "immersive" experiences only want to steal your money, considering how many of them there are lately, and how incredibly expensive they are.

yeah, so much for the inclusion in art spaces 🙄

[teehandystore]

Van Gogh Sunflowers Unisex T-Shirt

As a unisex t-shirt, the design would be suitable for both men and women, with a fit and style that transcends traditional gender boundaries. This allows the artwork to be enjoyed and displayed by a wide range of fans and art enthusiasts.

[blakekaraoke-streetwear]

Vincent Van Gogh Roses t-shirt

[universepod]

Van Gogh Halloween 2023 - A Black Cat Painting T-Shirt!

$16 $22

SHOP IT NOW!

[little-pondhead]

Day 20: Pitch Bible AU

I had a lot of fun with this :)

[Quotes from the pitch bible and personal headcanons are below the cut.]

Link to pitch bible

-

Pitch!Danny

"The kid with the nerdy, freaky parents. The kid who's afraid of his own shadow."

"Shy, quiet, stumbling and nervous - but always with a smile and a wink to his friends and the camera."

(Page 7)

Danny's death mark looks more like a burn scar rather than Lichtenberg figures. Everyone assumes he was in a fire whenever the trio talks about the Accident. The Fentons back this up since the true events cause an electrical fire in the lab.

He was only bullied about his scars once. Danny burst out crying on the spot, and no one has said anything since. He carries around a homemade balm to soothe the scars when he gets phantom pains.

His death mark extends into his hair and one of his eyes. He now has heterochromia as both Danny and Phantom, as the affected eye's iris was darkened, and a starburst pattern appeared. (inspired by this)

His overall eyesight was also affected, and he now wears reading glasses as a human. Danny frequently loses them, so his friends bought him a used eyeglass chain from a yard sale. The eyeglass chain is made of rainbow beads, and the spirit of the previous owner is attached to it.

Danny took up knitting soon after the Accident to help retrain his fine motor skills and concentration. He's quite good at it, and he made a sweater based on Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Frequently has ectoplasm stains on his clothes from either ghost fights or helping his parents in their lab. Most people think it's paint.

Phantom is invisible to most people (including himself when he looks in mortal mirrors.) He keeps it that way as much as possible, as his appearance is quite inhuman. Danny hates the uncanny valley feeling he causes wherever he goes. Even his friends had to work to get past the instinct to run when he showed himself. He has no pupils, but his death mark remains.

-

Pitch!Tucker

"Tucker uses the gadgets that Danny has gotten for him by raiding Mom and Dad's lab: The goggles that let him see ghosts, the backpack that lets him capture them, and the occasional random jet back that Dad was saving for a rainy day."

(Page 17)

Tallest of the trio, even with Sam's boots giving her an inch. Took track and field in middle school, so he's also the most physically fit, even if it's just by a little. Tucker is also the most reckless of the three and carries a first aid kit around for both him and Danny.

Bit of an adrenaline junkie, even if he won't admit it. Red Bull is his go-to over coffee and tea, which both Sam and Danny insist is bad for him. He's always hungry from sharing his meals with Danny, who cannot cook at home.

Tucker was forced to stop wearing his hats in middle school, but he hated his hair at the time, so he dyed it blonde and fried it straight to 'fit in better.' Sam and Danny have yelled at him for it, and he's slowly learning to appreciate his natural hair. (He still wants to keep dying it for a few more years, however. Red is the next color on his list!)

Takes dual courses at the Amity Park Community College in computer science. Became a top student quickly. He uses this knowledge to help Danny tinker with his parents' inventions and computers. (Which is difficult, given their backgrounds.)

Has a form of synesthesia called 'chromesthesia,' which means he sees colors and patterns when he hears sounds. His favorite color pattern is the sound of leaves rustling in autumn since it makes pretty yellow, orange, and red swirls. He turns the most memorable sounds into tie-dye t-shirts.

Tucker uses his 'liberated' Fenton tech all the time. Aside from ghost fights, he will 100% use the jetpack to get to school when he's late or use an extendable arm to hold a drink when he's busy. It drives Danny nuts because he has to recharge the backpack more, but when it comes down to it, he doesn't really mind. After all, Tucker is the one jailbreaking all their equipment.

-

Pitch!Sam

"A Goth Janeane Garofalo-type that hides her good looks behind baggy clothes, she is an encyclopedia of conspiracy theories and paranormal activity…a cute girl who loves all things geek!"

(Page 17)

Sam is the most serious of the three and is suspicious of everything. Her parents raised her as a rich elite; nothing comes for free in that type of life. She practically lives in the secondary suite that belonged to her grandmother Ida, tending to the greenhouse and library there.

Her favorite color is purple, and she raises Purple Emperor butterflies in the greenhouse in an attempt to increase their population, despite her location. She raises other butterflies and insects as well, but the Purple Emperors are her pride and joy. She wears purple butterfly charms in honor of them.

She has a bigger library than the high school, with books on topics Danny and Tucker have never heard of. During a ghost-induced power outage, they went to Sam and her library to perform an "ancient form of Googling." She did not appreciate that joke.

Cuts and dyes her hair herself, and bothers the boys about proper self care. She even has a little notebook in her pocket that lists reminders, dates, and observations she wants to look back on later. (For example, it reminds her when Danny is supposed to take his medicine, since his memory sucks now.)

Sam researches the paranormal almost obsessively, especially since she gains that psychic link with Danny. She wants to understand it, how it works, and why it happened. (She isn’t aware the ‘get better’ kiss was the cause.)

The random feelings and visions have increased her anxiety tenfold. Tucker jokes that she’s Batman now, since Sam has used her money to create a hundred different backup plans for everything she could think of, including hidden emergency packs all over town.

Once curb-stomped a grown man, as a child, on the day of Grandma Ida’s funeral because he was bragging about influencing the final will in his favor. She brings this energy to any fight she’s capable of participating in, and ghosts have learned to give her a wide berth. Locals just think she’s nuts.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 7: The House Of Cards]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, bodily injury, ANGST!!!!!!

Word Count: 5.8k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @gemini-mama @daenysx @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

Under blue light like the gleam of sapphires, Aemond is standing shirtless at his bathroom sink and cleaning blood and grime from his face with a wet washcloth that has turned from white to a muddy maroon. His missing left eye is angled towards you; his scar looks black beneath the cobalt glow. He’s gingerly manipulating his eyelids so he can wipe away the filth, leaning in close to the mirror. Then his hands begin to shake and he throws the washcloth to the dark tile floor. The walls are painted like Van Gogh’s Starry Night; you remember learning about it in your 8th grade art class. The bathtub is deep, spacious. You think of Aemond filling it and sinking into the water with you, misty with soap and steam. You wonder how long it will be until Christabel is lolling in this tub, clean before she ever touched the water: no scars, no history, blue blood and pure fantasies.

He hears when the floorboards creak under your bare feet. He turns his face so he can see you, an intruder lurking in the doorway of his bedroom, soaked clothes beneath the warm, dry, smoke-smelling Marlboro jacket he gave you. “Get out.”

“Aemond, let me help—”

“Get the fuck out.”

But he hasn’t said the right word, and you both know it. He hasn’t told you to stop. You go to him and ignore it when he tries to push you away, when he tries to yank his hands away from yours.

“Don’t touch me—!”

But you aren’t trying to grab him. You’re trying to give yourself to him. You force your wrists into his grasp and then he understands, then he feels the desperate hunger flare up in him like a lighter flicked to life.

His fingers tighten; he drags you closer. Then he says, low and husky: “I’m in charge now.”

“I know, I know. I want you to be.”

“You’re going to do exactly what I tell you to.”

“Yes,” you whisper, perfect obedience, helpless need. You gaze up into his glinting, savage right eye. You do not allow yourself to glance at the empty socket of the left. That would be disastrous, ruinous, an irredeemable betrayal.

Aemond takes you to his bed: thick wooden bedposts and a navy blue velvet canopy swimming with koi fish built of silver stars, celestial fins and constellation tails. He tears off the Marlboro jacket, your drenched Pepsi t-shirt, your simple cotton bra. “Don’t move,” he growls, and momentarily leaves you. Moonlight streams in through the stained glass windows of fractured, kaleidoscopic blue. Goosebumps rise on your bare skin. You can hear the friction of a drawer opening and then closing again. Aemond returns. Every move of his hands is rough, insistent. You don’t care if he hurts you, if he scrapes or bruises you. You wish he could bruise you down to the bone, stay trapped there in an indigo pool too deep for anyone to cut out, remind you of his closeness with every ache, never leave you.

Aemond clicks a handcuff around your right wrist; not a silk scarf, not the weight of his own hands, but cold metal that he tightens until it bites into your flesh. You should tell him to loosen it, but you don’t. You want to help Aemond. You want him to keep going; you want him to touch you until you forget about Jade Dragon Energy, Lake Verret, The Last Desire, Christabel.

He loops the short chain around one of the posts at the foot of the canopy bed and then fastens your left wrist as well. The handcuffs are secured in an indentation between ornate carvings of the sun and the moon; you cannot slide them up or down more than a few inches. Your arms are trapped above your head. You are facing the bed—the one he’ll soon be sharing with Christabel—and cannot turn around. Behind you, you can hear Aemond unzipping his jeans that are still dripping with brackish lake water. Now he’s yanking off your shorts and panties, so hurriedly you almost trip when he wrenches them past your ankles. Aemond kicks your feet apart—farther, farther—and then pushes you down until your back is bent as low as possible. You moan, just as much in pain as ravenous anticipation: your wrists burn, your shoulders stretch until you can imagine them splitting open and spilling blood like a river, knots of ivory bone peeking through the gore.

He’s touching you, but it doesn’t feel like much. He’s saying things, but you can’t hear him over the hurricane raging in your skull, thrashing waves of fear, dread, agony, heartache.

Has he brought other women here? Who will distract him when he’s done with me?

Aemond’s hips are braced against yours, his fingers are between your legs. He’s making you wet, but you know you aren’t ready. Inside, you are tense, uneasy, unable to surrender yourself to him. You close your eyes and try to remember what it was like the first time you were together, or the second, or the third time in the back of his Audi Quattro. Those memories feel so far away now, like they happened a hundred years ago or in a different galaxy or at the bottom of the ocean. Aemond’s teeth nip territorially at your throat. He’s tearing open a condom wrapper.

He’s not mine, he’s not mine, he’ll never be mine.

Now he’s forcing his way into you, and he has no way of knowing that it feels like gasoline on a fire, like scissors and knives, like the first time Willis convinced you to sleep with him again after Cadi was born. And Aemond is so big that the discomfort doesn’t fade into a vaguely unpleasant numbness but swells like gales as a storm rolls in. You’re facing away from him, so Aemond can’t see when you wince or squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t try to slow his rhythm, you don’t ask him to be more gentle, you don’t tell him to stop. You want to help him and he needs this, even if he doesn’t need you.

Aemond twists your hair in his fist and tugs your head back, and when you whimper he mistakes it for kindling passion, for something approaching euphoria. His thrusts are hammering, merciless. He’s panting as he battles against his own climax. And he’s beginning to get impatient, too; his fingers stroke you relentlessly, when you glance back at him his brow is creased with thinly-veiled frustration, confusion, disappointment.

I have to finish, you realize, horrified. If I don’t, he’s going to think it’s because of him, his face, his eye, his weakness, his unworthiness.

You’re nowhere close to finishing. You know you won’t be able to; there’s too much pain in your body, too much torment in your mind.

I’ve faked it plenty of times before, on other nights with other men. I can fake it again.

You breathe in gasps, you moan, you beg, you arch your back, and then—

Aemond strikes the bedpost with an open palm, hard and loud enough to make you yelp. He hisses through your hair, fever-red, hateful: “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“Aemond, it’s not you, it’s not your fault, it’s me, I’m so sorry, I’m just—”

“I want you out.” He disentangles himself from you, snaps off the condom, snatches a set of tiny keys off the floor where he must have left them.

“Don’t do this,” you plead as he unlocks the handcuffs, cold rattling metal. “Don’t make this about something it isn’t. Aemond? Aemond, please, it’s my fault—”

“Get out,” he says, stepping away from you. “Right now. Go.”

You reach for him, your fingertips settling on his bare chest, damp with sweat and still tarnished with the ancient silt of Lake Verret, with streaks of his own blood. “Aemond, listen to me—”

“Stop!” he roars, and your hands fall away. He points to the door that leads to the hallway. “Get out. Get the fuck out. Find someone else. I’m done.”

“What? No!”

He picks up your denim shorts and hurls them at you, then your Pepsi t-shirt and bra and panties. You fumble to catch them, and as your hands are occupied Aemond leans in close, grabs your face roughly by the jaw, forces you to look at him. The gory void of his left eye socket is close enough that you can see the flecks of dark grit from the lake that he will have to wash out of it. And you flinch—not at the wound itself, but for the child who was once maimed—and now you’ve proved him right.

Something flashes across Aemond’s scarred face, so animalistic in its mindless fury that for a sliver of a second you actually think he might hit you. Then he turns away without a word, walks into the bathroom, slams the door shut. As you pull on your clothes, you can hear his knuckles striking the mirror with sick thumps until it shatters. You bolt from the bedroom, through the hallway, down the staircase, surrounded by portraits of blonde strangers with foreign names, and whatever world they lived in wasn’t yours. Their world was made of gold and marble, contracts and lineage, chandeliers and champagne and coins sticky with some anonymous worker’s blood, and it was beautiful but it was cold, hollow, lonely, everything that would have made them human peeled away like a snake’s skin. You don’t belong here. You will never belong here. Your world is sloping floors and cracked paint and sun and salt and struggle, but it is real.

In the grand foyer, Vhagar is guarding the front door. The blue merle Great Dane bares her teeth as you approach. There is a rumble from low in her chest, a ferocity in her reptilian green-gold eyes.

“I really can’t deal with you right now,” you say, voice breaking as tears spill down your cheeks.

Vhagar trots towards you and you look around for a rescuer, Alicent or Criston or Daeron; but the house is hushed and still. You recall how Alicent once shoved Vhagar’s face away to fend her off. You don’t feel brave enough to attempt that.

“No!” you try instead. “Bad dog! Go terrorize someone else!”

The Great Dane snarls, ropy strands of drool dribbling from her jowls, and you fall silent. Vhagar sniffs at your ankles and then your fingers as you stand frozen. She seems to discover something that intrigues her. I smell like Aemond, you think, and almost start crying again. For the second time, your eyes search for a champion and find none. The dog nudges your right hand with her muzzle, licks at your palm, and then—bizarrely, shockingly—pushes her head under it and blinks up at you expectantly.

“What?” you say, confounded. Vhagar waits, suddenly cordial. Her long tail swishes; her floppy ears hang limp and relaxed. She doesn’t leave until you pet the top of her colossal head—once, twice, three times—and then she stalks off into the shadows of the kitchen. You hurry to the front door before Vhagar can return to second-guess your newfound alliance.

You step out onto the front porch, white paint and towering columns, lightning bugs and screeching cicadas. It is only when you survey the flock of Audis, Porsches, Alfa Romeos, and Lexuses in the cobblestone driveway that you remember you didn’t drive yourself here.

“Goddammit.” Then you catch a whiff of marijuana.

You turn to your left. Aegon is slumped in a rocking chair and smoking a joint. He has just showered. His long hair is wet and messy; he wears a tie-dye tank top, purple gym shorts, and neon yellow flip flops. Sunfyre is curled up in his lap. “You need a ride, cake lady?”

“Not from you.”

“It’s just weed. Weed isn’t a drug.”

“The Reagan administration would disagree.”

He rolls his eyes. “Those miserable fascists. They’d outlaw orgasms and ice cream if they could.” He slips his car keys out of his shorts pocket and spins them around with his index finger. “Come on. Let’s go for a drive.”

Aegon’s Porsche 911 has a custom paint job, glittering gold with pale pink accents. It’s even smaller than Aemond’s Audi; the back seats are impossibly tiny, and in any case they are filled to the windows with empty McDonald’s cups, Taco Bell bags, and Popeyes boxes.

“Here, hold him,” Aegon says, and tosses the ferret to where you sit in the passenger seat. The weasel-like creature scrabbles over your thighs, circling, burrowing, making some deranged gleeful sound halfway between a clicking and a chuckle.

“Um…?!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, he’ll settle down.” Aegon starts the car and pitches the remains of his joint out the open window. “Where do you live?”

The directions are simple, a straight shot east on Route 401. But it’s going to be a long ride. Aegon is only driving 15 miles per hour.

“So,” he says, noting your bloodshot eyes and dazed preoccupation. “It didn’t go well. With Aemond, I mean.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Sure you do.”

You stare out your window, night wind in your hair and your lungs, stinging in your watery eyes. The southern live oaks—vague, monstrous shapes with branches like prehistoric claws—block out much of the moon, the stars. Distractedly, you rest a hand on Sunfyre’s small, furry back. “What happened to his face?” And then, remembering what Aegon told Viserys in the foyer: “What’s the North Sea?”

“It’s on the east coast of the U.K. It starts down by France and the Netherlands and goes all the way up to Norway. Jade Dragon has a bunch of North Sea rigs. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen offshore oil rigs, maybe on the news or something?”

“I haven’t.” When you look down at your wrists, beneath the dim silvery moonlight you can still see the indentations that the handcuffs left in your flesh.

“Well they’re fucking terrifying. You’re on a metal platform in the middle of the goddamn ocean, and the waves are smacking into it, and the whole rig is lurching back and forth. You’re standing maybe 200 feet above sea level. From that height, the water’s like concrete. If a man falls off, they never find the body. The sharks eat him, or the waves rip him apart, or if his gear is heavy enough he just sinks to the bottom and implodes like a crushed can when the pressure gets too strong. I hate those things. I hate them. And of course Viserys was always trying to drag me along when he’d fly up there to inspect the company property. Gotta parade the heir around. Gotta turn me into a real man somehow. I’d be doing lines in the helicopter the whole way there, trying to work up the nerve to step out onto the deck when we landed.” Aegon gives you a wry smirk, shadowy beneath the obstructed moonlight. “This was before Viserys gave up on me.”

“Aemond lost his eye on an oil rig?”

“Yeah,” Aegon says. “He was young, eight or nine, something like that. And he begged our father to take him with us. Can you believe that? I’m hiding under the dining room table and Aemond is clawing at Viserys’ feet, promising he can handle it. So Viserys says okay, fine, Aemond can come too. Mum and Criston didn’t want Aemond to go, Helaena didn’t like it, hell, even Otto thought it was too dangerous. But Viserys is God in the Targaryen family religion, so Aemond got to go to the North Sea.”

You’re watching Aegon, eyes wide, heart pounding, appalled. He was a little kid. He wasn’t even Cadi’s age. “Viserys didn’t protect him?”

“Oh yeah, at first he did. He was showing Aemond off to everyone—Look at my son! So brave, so clever!—and meanwhile I’m lying on the floor of the helicopter having a panic attack, I can’t stop thinking I’m about to go plummeting into the ocean, and Criston is kneeling beside me trying to strap an oxygen mask onto my face.” Aegon sighs, gazing at the yellow lines of Route 401. “And then Viserys got to chatting with some of the engineers and forgot all about Aemond. Aemond who? The middle son, the forgotten son, the runt, the backup plan. And Aemond started exploring, poking around in the wrong places, and he ended up watching some of the workers spinning chain, which is how they connect drill pipes together. A chain snapped. It hit Aemond in the face, fractured his skull, and basically liquified his eye upon impact. He was in a coma for two weeks. We all thought he was going to die. But he lived, and Viserys…that bastard was nowhere to be found while Aemond was lying half-dead in Moorfields Hospital. But the day Aemond woke up, you better believe our father waltzed into the room with balloons and Cadbury bars, gushing about how happy he was that Aemond was alright, how proud he was, how relieved. Within a month he was indifferent again. But Aemond’s been chasing that feeling ever since. Being wanted. Being seen.”

“Why do any of you do it?” you ask, nauseous with despair. “Why do you destroy yourselves for Viserys? Why do you listen to him, why don’t you leave?”

“I can’t leave,” Aegon says, stunned. “Do I look employable to you? I’d end up living in the woods with the paranoid schizophrenics.”

“But you’d be free.”

“I don’t want to be free,” Aegon replies. “Freedom? That scares the hell out of me. I don’t know who I am without my family. I don’t have the first fucking clue. I don’t want to be a Targaryen, but I am a Targaryen, you know? And there’s no going back. That’s my gravity. That’s everything I am. Trying to imagine a life without Aemond, Helaena, Daeron, Criston, Alicent, even Otto, even Viserys? I wouldn’t exist. I would blink out of existence like the Big Bang in reverse. They’re my bones, I’m just what grows around them. I’m a jellyfish, I’m a tangle of guts and arteries.”

You stare at Aegon as faint ribbons of moonlight stream in through the open windows, voice choked, tears falling onto Sunfyre’s sand-colored fur. “I don’t know how to help Aemond.”

“Yes you do.” Aegon smiles. “Give him what he wants.”

“I think he’s done with me now.”

“No, no way,” Aegon says. “What did he do, freak out and yell at you? Break things, tell you to fuck off? That happens sometimes. He doesn’t mean it. He’ll be back on your doorstep in a week.”

“He always has to have a girl. But that girl doesn’t have to be me.”

Aegon laughs, his blonde hair flying in the wind. “New girl, new rules. You ruined him.”

“What?”

Aegon grins. “He’s in love with you.”

You pet Sunfyre with one hand while you swipe tears from your cheeks with the other, sniffling, shaking your head. “I can’t be his mistress. It will kill me.” I want more than that. I want all of him.

“You’ll get used to it,” Aegon says encouragingly. “Criston did. Camilla did.”

“Please shut up about Camilla Parker Bowles.” You point as the mouth of your short gravel driveway comes into view. “That’s it. We’re here.”

Inside, the house is dark and quiet and cold; you were in such a rush to meet Willis and help Aemond find his ever-errant brother that you accidentally left the air conditioner on all day. You shut off the whirring machine in the kitchen window—Aemond put that there, he did it for me—and then turn on the little pink Panasonic boombox so it feels like someone else is here. Roxette’s Listen To Your Heart plucks mournfully from the speakers.

You draw yourself a bath, descend into the hot water, scrub Aemond off of you. The walls are adorned with no Van Gogh’s Starry Night, no stately portraits, no grandeur or glitter or marble or gold. They are only a pale, listless blue lined with thin cracks through the paint like the sinking house’s veins.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seven sunsets, six dusks, and then it is Friday all over again. You help Amir close up the bakery and then crawl into bed: head pounding, room spinning, that endless late-afternoon light of the summer flooding in through the window blinds. You unplug the phone on the nightstand and nestle into the pillows, hiding your face from the world. Cadi is fine, she’s blissfully playing her Nintendo and she knows there’s some of Amir’s leftover ribs and rice in the refrigerator. She doesn’t need you, and this will only become more true with each passing year. There was a time when you yearned for Cadi to become more independent. Now you’re beginning to see the horror in it, that bittersweetness that parents always talk about.

One day she’ll be gone. And she’ll get to choose whether she ever comes back.

No one has ever chosen you. It seems unwise to assume there will be exceptions to the rule.

You doze off for a while. There are distant noises you try to ignore: the kitchen phone ringing, the humming of the air conditioner, the drone of the microwave, the Super Mario Bros. theme. When you wake, it is because you hear the bedroom door creaking open. Through blinking, bleary eyes, you see Aemond’s silhouette in the doorway. You know it’s him; you would know even if he wasn’t wearing his familiar Marlboro jacket and red Converses and teal duffle bag slung over one shoulder. You would know him anywhere.

You say, unsure if you’re more angry or depressed: “I thought you were done.”

He ignores this. He has two eyes again, one real and one a lie, and this seems to be becoming a recurring theme in his life. “I called. Cadi said you were sick.”

“It’s just a headache. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you get them a lot?”

“Yeah.” When I’m stressed. When I’m sad.

There’s a palm on your forehead, cool and gentle, feeling for fever. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“Nothing ever works.”

You recoil from the thud of the duffle bag against the sloping wooden floor; every sound is too loud. You have your eyes pinched shut, but you can hear Aemond unzipping the bag and then opening some sort of container. “Try this,” he says, pushing a pill between your lips. “They knock out my nerve pain when it flares up.” Then he passes you the glass of sweet tea you left on your nightstand. You sit up to swallow the pill and collapse back onto the bed. The wildflower-patterned duvet covers you up to your chest. You moan softly, touching your fingertips to your temple.

There are small thumps as Aemond quietly kicks off his Converses, and then his weight settles onto the mattress. He waits to see if you’ll tell him to stop. You don’t. He folds around you, blood and bones and muscle and warmth. His lips brush against the shell of your ear. One of his hands interlaces with yours and settles on your waist. You inhale his smoke, his cologne, his strange intermittent tenderness. He murmurs: “I’m sorry I’m doing this to you.”

“I wish I could stop,” you answer through a thick fog.

“Stop what?”

“Wishing it was possible. Wishing we were different people.”

Aemond doesn’t reply. Perhaps there’s nothing more to say. Within minutes, you are unconscious again.

When your eyes flutter open—painless, glass-clear—the room is dark and you are alone. The flashing red numbers on your alarm clock read 10:14 p.m.

“What?!” you gasp, scrambling out of bed. You rarely nap, and never for that long.

You hurry to Cadi’s room, expecting to find her bored or irritated or prepared to launch a formal complaint. Instead, she and Aemond are sitting on the floor and watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off; Ferris is currently singing Twist And Shout on top of a parade float. There are several Pizza Hut boxes scattered around them; Cadi is eating a slice of pepperoni and mushroom. She and Aemond are mid-conversation. She is asking him as you walk in: “Wow, so Bobbi was on the news and everything?”

“He sure was. But they made him sit in this glass box because the CBS Evening News staff were so scared of AIDS they wouldn’t go anywhere near him, not even to wire him up with a microphone.”

“That’s totally bogus.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“How old was he when he died?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Really?” Cadi says, alarmed. “Grownups can die that young?”

“Sure. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Cadi looks to where you stand in the doorway. “Mom, aren’t you like thirty?”

“Almost. I’m a few years away from it.”

“Still,” Cadi says; and you witness something unfold on her face that you can’t remember seeing since she was a toddler. She is shocked, she is afraid. Her eyes shimmer; she’s forgotten all about her pizza. Aemond is watching her, realizing he’s made her aware of something that didn’t exist in her mind before.

“Oh no, love, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Aemond tells Cadi, resting a hand on her tiny shoulder. “Bobbi Campbell had a very serious disease, he wasn’t your average person. Most grownups live a long time. Your mum is going to live to be a hundred, okay? Maybe even a hundred and ten. Maybe even a hundred and twenty. It depends on how many cupcakes she eats.”

“Okay,” Cadi says, somewhat pacified but still shaken up.

“Do you want any pizza?” Aemond asks you. “We got cheese, pepperoni and mushroom, and supreme.”

“No, I’m not really hungry, thanks though.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“I am. What did you give me?”

Aemond smiles. “Percocet.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “No wonder it worked so well.”

“I left a bottle with about ten pills in your bathroom cabinet. But don’t start liking it too much. You’ll end up like Aegon.” He staggers to his feet.

“You’re leaving?” Cadi asks, openly disappointed.

“It had to happen sooner or later. It’s long past your bedtime. And I don’t live here. You couldn’t pay me to either, not with that dinosaur that lives in your front yard. I’m in fear for my life every time I visit.”

“The gator wouldn’t hurt you,” Cadi objects. “She’s too small. She’s just a baby. Next time, can you bring Gremlins?”

“Sure. I think I’ve got that VHS. Daeron might have borrowed it.” Aemond gives Cadi’s hair an affectionate ruffle and she tolerates this, something you would not have believed was possible. “I’m going to go talk to your mum for a few minutes and then head out, alright?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Cheers, love.” Then Aemond follows you to the kitchen.

You pour yourself a fresh glass of sweet tea as Aemond helps himself to a snickerdoodle cupcake from one of the cake plates on the kitchen table. He licks off the frosting as he gazes at you, and you try not to feel anything. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I know. I wanted to.” His right eye flicks down to the copy of the Bayou Journal that lies on the counter. The headline proclaims: Early tests reveal increased salinity of Lake Verret; breach of underground salt dome is suspected. “I’m sorry about that,” Aemond says awkwardly.

“Sorry about what? Ruining our lake?”

“Well, it’s not ruined, technically. It’s just…salty.”

“Aemond, almost all of the fish are going to die.”

“Will the alligators die too?” he asks hopefully.

“No. They won’t.”

“Oh.” He takes an evasive bite of his cupcake then changes the subject. “Come to my house tomorrow. After Willis picks up Cadi.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yes, and now we’re having it again.”

“I don’t think this situation is good for either of us,” you say, but with pitifully little conviction.

Aemond places his snickerdoodle cupcake on the counter and steps towards you. And for a moment you think he’s going to order you, to command you, and you know if he does you’ll obey. But that’s not what Aemond is doing. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, unexpectedly, without any roughness to it. Then he touches his forehead to yours as he whispers: “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I was wrong, I was wrong. I was fucked up. But I’m better now.”

“Why did you jump into the water for me?”

“Come over tomorrow,” he pleads again without answering you.

“Aemond…I don’t think I can.” I think this is destroying me. I think it’s flaying me alive, carving me away piece by piece.

“I don’t have to fuck you. I don’t even have to touch you. I just want you to be there.”

“Can I bring a friend?”

This catches Aemond off-guard. “Amir?”

“Have you not yet memorized my long, long, long list of friends?”

“Of course you can bring Amir,” Aemond says. “He’s always welcome. The only reason I haven’t invited Cadi is because Aegon leaves coke all over the house and I don’t think a kid should be exposed to that.”

“Yeah, I mean obviously I agree.”

Aemond kisses you again, a swift parting token, kind and weightless. “Bye, Cupcake. See you tomorrow.” He wolfs down the last of the snickerdoodle cupcake, grabs his teal duffle bag from the living room couch and is gone, the off-kilter front porch steps groaning under his Converses. You stand in the kitchen sipping your sweet tea for a while, listening to the air conditioner purring and the cicadas shrieking and the long-eared owl hooting as it swoops for prey. Then you begin pulling bowls and baking pans out of the cabinets.

Cadi appears, helps herself to a beignet, and turns on the little pink boombox on the kitchen counter. “Hey Mom, listen, it’s your favorite song!” She cranks up the volume: Heaven Is A Place On Earth.

You force a smile. “Yeah, it is.”

And you wait until Cadi dashes off to the bathroom to take her shower before you change the station.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What the…?” Amir squints at Sunfyre, who is floating by himself on a neon green inflatable raft in the middle of the swimming pool. “What the fuck is that? A Chernobyl hamster?”

You laugh. You’re wearing denim shorts and an unceremonious white t-shirt over your swimsuit, Kmart sneakers, hair assailed by wind and humidity, a tiny bouquet of wildflowers that Amir picked for you tucked into your back pocket. “It’s a ferret.”

“It’s a freak of nature. This is how you know the Bible isn’t real, why would Noah have let that mutant on the Ark?”

“Oh, my very favorite Napoleonville residents!” Alicent calls, beckoning you and Amir over to where she, Criston, and Daeron are gathered around a dark green beach towel littered with playing cards, gambling chips, strawberry daiquiris, and Marlboro cigarettes. Apparently, they run in the family. Alicent puffs anxiously on one, rings gleaming on her elegant fingers. “Come play with us. Do you have good poker faces?”

“I certainly hope so,” Amir replies as he pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing swim trunks patterned with bright, multicolored geometric shapes. “I suspect we can’t afford to lose.”

“Can’t afford to lose,” Daeron’s blue macaw squawks from where she is perched on a nearby lounge chair, and Amir gapes at it, startled.

“Quiet, Tessarion,” Daeron soothes the bird.

“If you incur any debts, Aemond can pay them.” Alicent smiles warmly, then takes notice of the two white bakery boxes you’re carrying. “Have you brought us more of your scrumptiously authentic Southern desserts? I’ve been raving about them to all my friends back home in London. I ring them and they’re mesmerized by the notion of hummingbird cake and sweet tea. They’re even having their own kitchen staff try to replicate them.”

How antebellum. “It’s nothing too special. Just a blueberry custard pie. And some Cap’n Crunch Treats for Aegon.”

“Wonderful!” Alicent chimes. “Criston? You must get us plates and silverware immediately. We must sample this new delicacy straight away.”

Criston dutifully rises and disappears into the house they call The Last Desire. Helaena—with her chameleon Dreamfyre clinging to her shoulder—is absorbed in a conversation with Otto as they wade in the shallow end of the pool. Aegon has fallen asleep on a lounge chair and is snoring loudly; the boombox beside him is playing She Blinded Me With Science. Aegon is turning lobster red beneath the sun, but no one has bothered to wake him up. Before you can do it, Aemond walks through the French doors of the living room and out onto the cobblestones, wearing his black swim trunks. He beams when he sees you, then kicks Aegon’s chair as hard as he can.

“What?!” Aegon shouts as he jolts awake. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“You fell asleep and you look like a Twizzler.”

“A chunky Twizzler,” Daeron adds.

“You want a palm reading?” Aegon asks. He grabs Aemond’s hand and flips it over. “It says you’re a bitch.”

“Aemond, phone for you,” Criston says as he breezes out of the house holding a stack of plates, forks, and knives. “I left it off the hook in the kitchen.”

“Thanks. Got it.” Then Aemond tells you: “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

When he vanishes, you and Amir join the poker game. Aegon splashes into the pool to grab Sunfyre, collects his bakery box of Cap’n Crunch Treats, and then pads into the house to presumably slather himself in Noxzema. Criston cuts everyone a slice of blueberry custard pie, which Alicent raves about. You can’t bear to have Criston inconvenienced once again to prepare daiquiris for you and Amir; before Alicent can think of it, you jog to the kitchen to grab two cans of Pepsi from the fridge. But just as you reach the doorway, Aemond’s voice stops you. It isn’t a phone call about the rigs or the stock market. It isn’t family, it isn’t friends.

“Yes, dearest,” Aemond is saying, and you peek into the kitchen to get a better look. He’s got the handset of a blue phone to his ear and is turned away from you. His back is straight and rigid; his voice is steady but dispassionate. “Right. I understand. Yes, completely. Don’t be ridiculous, of course I miss you. All the time. Yes, and we’ll discuss it then. I can’t wait either. I’ll see you soon. Yes, yes. And you as well. Cheers, darling.” There is a pause. “I love you too.”

Aemond hangs up the phone, sighs deeply, rubs his scarred forehead. You slip away before he knows you’re there.

[kaaaaaaarf]

ahhh this is so fun!! thanks for the tags @spindrifters, @lynxindisguise, @polaroidcats, @faggylittleleatherboy & @squintclover!!

np tagging: @kaleidoscopexsighs, @fruityindividual, @moon-seas, @imsiriuslyreading, @fxreflyes,

@pain-in-the-riri & @wanderingdonut

[spidermaninlove]

Tomdaya Timeline vol. 6

Links to vol. 1, vol. 2, vol. 3, vol. 4, and vol. 5

London

July 2023

TZ spotted having lunch in Wimbledon.  link

July 9, 2023

Tom and Z at The Brothers Trust Event

Brothers Trust Uncharted Screening

Z attended the Brothers Trust Uncharted screening with Tom.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7

The Brothers Trust Instagram account included Z in their event stories link link2, and the event recap video they posted features both Tom and Z.  link3

While at the Brothers Trust Uncharted screening, Tom changed from a blue t-shirt into a black Brothers Trust shirt, and during the event, Z was photgraphed holding the blue shirt Tom was no longer wearing.  link

Chiltern Firehouse

TZ arriving at Chiltern Firehouse.  link  After dinner, Tom waited with Z while she took pics with fans outside the restaurant.  link2 link3 link4 link5

July 11, 2023

TZ spotted in Richmond (near Kingston).  link

During the Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers podcast that aired today, Tom talked about the time Z cut her finger while making him dinner in NY and needed stitches.  link  When asked if he could go on a vacation with any family other than his own, he named Z’s fam.  He also mentioned recently golfing with Z.  link2

July 14, 2023

TZ photographed eating in Richmond.  link

July 20, 2023

TZ spotted furniture shopping.  link link2

Tomdaya date night including dinner link and a musical link2 link3.

Portugal

July 2023

Z in Portugal on holiday/vacation with Tom and his family.  link link2

LA

August 2023

Tom with Noon and a tot at Z’s house in Northridge.  

link

August 22, 2023

Tom with Z at a salon in LA.  link

August 23, 2023

Tom and Z were photographed at Target along with Z’s mom, Claire.  link link2

Oakland

TZ were in Oakland August 25-26, 2023.  link

August 25, 2023

Zendaya and Tom at West Oakland Middle School. link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10

Z posted Tom to her story.  link

August 26, 2023

Zendaya and Tom at Lowell Park in Oakland

TZ at Zendaya All-Stars basketball game in Oakland.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10 link11 link12 link13 link14 link15 link16 link17 link18 link19 link20 link21

September 1, 2023

Tom posted a photo of Z to his Instagram story, captioned, “My birthday girl 😍”  link and another photo of his three loves, Z, Tessa, and Noon, captioned with “😍😍😍″.  link2

LA

September 4, 2023

Zendaya and Tom at the third night (Beyonce’s birthday) of Beyonce’s Renaissance Tour in LA.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

Z serenading Tom to Love on Top.  link7 link8 

September 5, 2023

Vogue dubbed TZ “Hollywood royalty”.  link

Paris

October 1, 2023

Tom with Z in Paris.  link link2 link3

October 2, 2023

Tom and Z at Bvlgari Hotel in Paris.  link link2

October 3, 2023

TZ at the Van Gogh exhibit at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris.  link link2 link3

Zendaya and Tom went to Féerie in Moulin Rouge.  link

October 4, 2023

Tom and Z at the Place Vendôme in Paris.  link

London

October 5, 2023

TZ with their moms at Battersea Dogs & Cats Home.  link

October 6, 2023

Tom and Z “...walking through a park with two bodyguards in west London when they couldn't keep their hands off each other, with Zendaya draping her arm over her boyfriend. Tom kept kissing her hand as they walked along."  link link2

TZ at Petersham Nurseries, a local Michelin Green Star restaurant.  link link2

LA

October 2023

Tom in LA at a restaurant with Z.  link

Tom and Z signed Spider-man posters for The Brothers Trust.  

link

Oakland/LA

October 20, 2023

TZ photographed at the Oakland and Burbank airports.  link

LA

October 23, 2023

“Hollywood’s cutest couple” papped shopping at Erewhon Market in LA.  link link2 link3

Las Vegas

November 5, 2023

Tom and Z in Las Vegas.  link

California

November 12, 2023

TZ spotted in Lemoore, CA.

November 24, 2023

Tom and Z spotted in Sacramento and Vacaville, California.  link

November 25, 2023

According to Claire, Z is in LA.  Note:  Claire had Noon from November 23-25.  

Bay Area

December 6, 2023

TZ spotted at Target in the San Francisco Bay Area.  link

December 7, 2023

Tom and Z spotted in San Francisco.  link

London

December 13, 2023

Tom and Z visited the Royal Marsden Hospital in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10

December 19, 2023

Tom and Z were photographed shopping in London.  link

December 20, 2023

TZ were spotted shopping again today -- ‘tis the season.  link

December 21, 2023

TZ with the Hollands at The Little Big Things musical.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

LA

January 14, 2024

During an interview at the Critics Choice Awards, Tom mentioned that he and Z will occasionally watch “Spider-man 1″ (Spider-man: Homecoming) to reminisce.  link

January 23, 2024

Tom posted a photo of Z in Paris to his story.  He also reposted and captioned a video of Z featuring lyrics from Cupid’s Chokehold with “This was made for me 😂” hence, confirming Z is his girlfriend.  link link2

London

February 14, 2024

TZ spent Valentine’s Day with Tom’s family celebrating the twins’ birthday at a pub.  link

February 15, 2024

Tom at the Dune 2 red carpet premiere in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

Tom and Z arriving at the Dune 2 after-party.  link link2

TZ leaving the Dune 2 after party together.  link

TZ were both styled in black fits for the event, with Tom dressed in Louis Vuitton, his ambassador girlfriend’s brand.  link

February 21, 2024

Tom posted the second Challengers trailer to his Instagram story.  link

February 2024 

Z said Tom has beautiful charisma and that “it works for me”.  link

Z said, "I think the more I'm around British people and they're my family now..."  link

When asked if she could bring back one thing from the UK, Z said her boyfriend.  link

California

March 17, 2024

TZ at the Indian Wells Open in California.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

Indian Wells Open

London

April 10, 2024

Tom at Z’s Challengers premiere in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7

April 11, 2024

Tom and Z papped together in London.  link

April 19, 2024

Law once again confirmed tomdaya 1.0.  link

May 10, 2024

TZ photographed holding hands in London.  link

May 23, 2024

Z arriving at the opening night performance of Tom’s Romeo & Juliet on the West End.  link  TZ departed the theater together.  link2 link3 link4 link5

Z took photos of Tom waving to the crowd from inside their ride.  link

TZ attended the Romeo & Juliet after-party.  link

May 29, 2024

TZ papped out and about in London.  link

June 5, 2024

Tom and Z photographed with a fan at the mall in Kingston.  link

June 6, 2024

Zendaya waiting for Tom after his PM Romeo & Juliet performance.  link link2

June 7, 2024

Z attended Tom’s Romeo & Juliet play tonight.  They exited the theater together holding hands.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7

June 13, 2024

Zendaya exited the stage door tonight with Tom.  link link2

June 22, 2024

Romeo and Noon at the Duke of York’s Theatre today.  link link2 link3

June 23, 2024

Noon with Tom again tonight at the Duke of York’s Theatre.  link link2

June 28, 2024

Tom walked Noon, sans Zendaya, in Richmond Park.  link

July 1, 2024

Noon once again at the theater with Tom.  link link2 link3

July 13, 2024

Z with Nikki and Claire at Wimbledon.  link

July 19, 2024

Z attended another one of Tom’s Romeo & Juliet performances.  link

July 21, 2024

Tom and Z spotted out and about in Wimbledon.  link

July 27, 2024

Tom was papped walking TZ’s new protection pup, Daphne.  link

July 31, 2024

TZ spotted dining out and kissing in London near the Duke of York’s Theatre.  link link2 link3

August 3, 2024

Zendaya arrived at the Duke of York’s Theatre with a bouquet of roses for Tom’s final Romeo & Juliet performance on the West End.  link link2 link3

August 4, 2024

Tom and Z spotted walking their dogs in Richmond Park.  link

Hotel Castello di Reschio, Umbria Italy (Vacation)

August 6-20, 2024

Tom and Z vacationed at the Hotel Castello di Reschio in Umbria Italy.  link link2

Perugia Italy

August 12, 2024

Tom and Z photographed at the National Gallery in Perugia Italy.  link

August 14, 2024

Z and Tom spotted again in Perugia Italy.  link

August 19, 2024

Another Tom and Z sighting in Perugia.  link

August 20, 2024

Tom and Z spotted at the airport in Perugia.  link

London

August 22, 2024

Z and Tom in Kingston.  link

Scotland

August 26-27, 2024

TZ spotted dining at Gleneagles restaurants in Scotland.  link link2

August 28, 2024

Tom and Z photographed at Glasgow Airport in Scotland link and spotted holding hands.  link2

California

August 30-31, 2024

Zendaya and Tom photographed in LA at the airport and shopping in Calabasas.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

September 1, 2024

TZ were spotted in Berkeley getting frozen yogurt and in San Francisco.  link link2

London

September 7, 2024

TZ at the musical, The Baker’s Wife, at Menier Chocolate Factory in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

September 8, 2024

Tom and Z spotted in Surbiton.  link

Cornwall 

September 9-13, 2024, Holland Family Vacation

September 10, 2024

TZ spotted at a supermarket, having breakfast at a small cafe, and on CCTV while on vacation in Cornwall.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

September 11, 2024

Tom and Zendaya at the beach in Cornwall.  link link2

September 13, 2024

Dom Holland blogged about the Holland family holiday in St. Austell in Cornwall England.  link

Tiburon (Bay Area), California

October 5, 2024

TZ spotted having lunch with a group of people in Tiburon, CA.  link link2

October 16, 2024

Tom launched BERO today and one of his three brews is named after his and Z’s dog, Noon.  

October 17, 2024

During a podcast with Rich Roll, Tom mentioned Z and Noon several times:  1) Taking Noon to a meeting with Tom Rothman link, 2) one of his Bero brews is named after his “little dog” (Noon) link2, 3) Z’s kind comments regarding Tom’s TCR hair link3, 4) doing handiwork around Z’s house link4, 5) reading a draft Spider-man 4 script with Z link5, and 6) agreeing to do Romeo & Juliet without discussing it with Z link6.

October 19, 2024

Tom and BERO posted for Noon’s birthday on Instagram, calling him "My birthday boy" and "Tom's furry child," respectively.  link

New York

October 24, 2024

Zendaya in New York with Tom at the official BERO launch party.  link link3 link4 Tom rescued Z from autographers when they returned to their hotel tonight.  link2

BERO launch party, Nine Orchard Hotel, New York

Boston

October 31, 2024

Tom spotted in Boston.  Z is in the area filming The Drama.

November 2024

Tom and Z walking Noon while sharing airpods in Boston.  link link2 link3

TZ stopped for hot chocolate.  link link2 Tom was carrying Z’s phone in his pocket. link3

November 2, 2024

TZ spotted in Boston.  link link2 link3 link4

November 7, 2024

Tomdaya out and about in Boston with Noon link link5, and at a bookstore. link2  They were spotted together again tonight. link3 link4

November 8, 2024

Both Tom and Z have been cast in Christopher Nolan’s next movie which will begin filming early next year.

November 9, 2024

TZ photographed at a cafe today in Boston.  link

November 10, 2024

An autumn walk in Boston. link 

November 13, 2024

During an interview with Vanity Fair, Z discussed working with Tom and Noon’s love for Tom.  link

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Art References for Chapter Two of underneath the sunrise (show where your love lies)

(somehow this one got SO LONG. my bad. in my defense, have some paintings and a few artifacts from my Archaeology of Death class)

Portrait of Madame X, John Singer Sargent, 1884

"There, standing in front of him, as shocking as the unveiling of the Portrait of Madame X on an unsuspecting Paris, are Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland."

On the Terrace at S��vres, Marie Bracquemond, 1880

"For his final seminar paper, Monty wrote about Marie Bracquemond. About her paintings and the light that entered through all corners of the space. About the way that she, among all her peers, captured the feelings of her subjects, lonely and lovely in the bright outdoor light.

Monty remembers something she said about Impressionism, about how it produced “not only a new, but a very useful way of looking at things. It is as though all at once a window opens and the sun and air enter your house in torrents."

And god, he shouldn’t have let it happen, but that is Charles and Edwin for him. The sun and the air. The relief in the middle of winter."

Grave Goods of Queen Puabi (A Few Selected from Tomb PG 300)

"Monty should be able to keep his resolve. He should be able to be stubborn. He should be able to hold firm, to last, to endure like grave goods in Queen Puabi’s tomb."

The Last Supper, Tintoretto, 1592-1594

"There is some source of light in the background, behind their heads, but it’s dark out the windows so the light haloes dark hair like Tintoretto’s wet dream.

And maybe Monty’s at the Last Supper. Maybe there are only two apostles at the table framed in holy light. Maybe he’s Judas, about to doom a lover with a kiss."

Sunflowers, Van Gogh, 1888

“God, it has never been about me not wanting you. I’ve always wanted you two. Since that first game, since I saw the two of you together, all Van-Gogh-sunflowers-bright.”

Autumn Lane, Thomas Kinkade

"Monty isn’t Cinderella. He isn’t a Thomas Kinkade subject, pastoral, pastel, and perfect. He has no ball to go to and no princes to come and save him. He has nothing to do but sluggishly pull sweatpants and an old t-shirt on over clammy, goosebump-ridden skin and slip under the Persistence of Memory blanket Niko got him for Christmas last year."

Time Transfixed, René Magritte, 1938

"Monty isn’t Cinderella. He isn’t a Thomas Kinkade subject, pastoral, pastel, and perfect. He has no ball to go to and no princes to come and save him. He has nothing to do but sluggishly pull sweatpants and an old t-shirt on over clammy, goosebump-ridden skin and slip under the Time Transfixed blanket Niko got him for Christmas last year."

The Swing, Fragonard, 1767-8

"And Monty nods. "I think," he says, "I can start to believe that."

Emphasis on start, of course, but it's enough to make Edwin and Charles both smile at him, Charles raising Monty's knuckles to kiss them giddily like he's the boy in a Fragonard painting, excited by the glimpse of a lady's ankle."

Starry Night over the Rhône, Van Gogh, 1888

"All of these things do. It's quiet. The world is still. But it doesn't feel as empty as normal. Some measure of warmth and light has followed Charles Rowland and Edwin Payne from their apartment and into Monty’s, soft and bright and welcoming as the Van Gogh's stars above the Rhône."

@deadboy-edwin @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @ashildrs

@tragedy-machine @just-existing-as-you-do-blog @orpheusetude @mj-irvine-selby

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

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@fenristheulv

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price

Prof! Price as a literature professor. He's giving an online class to his students talking about how romance is involved in books. Until one of his students through the computer interrupts him.

"Professor, do you believe in love?"

He won't lie. That question threw him by surprise, halting his words. He stares at the computer for a few seconds, trying to analyze what's the answer. Just then, he raised his eyes to something in front of him.

Or someone.

Does he believe in love?

Well, if love is described as one of his students entering his class on the first day and struck Price the instant she stepped food into his classroom, making him almost unable to greet all the people, then yes. If Love is described as how he found her days later in his favorite coffee shop trying to do her homework, him feeling confused (and strangely happy) because he's seeing her in one of his favorite places, took the courage to stepped closer to her and talk to her for a few minutes as she showed him her precious smile, then yes. If love is how the talk went for hours and hours until the coffee shop had to close, neither the two of them checked the time, just immersed in the conversation and realizing they have so much in common then, yes. If Love is how they got closer when months passed and Price was feeling kinda anxious because he was falling hard for her and she was his student, he was her professor and he is older than her, but one day she walked iinto his office —she had been visiting him— and he couldn't take it anymore, he stepped closer and kissed her lips so softly, as if her lips were some kind of fine porcelain. His emotions exploded then and there, and when they separated, he realized what he had done. He kissed one of his students, he could get in trouble, she could get in trouble or worse... he didn't know if she felt the same as him as she was frozen on the spot. But when he felt her hands go to his face cupping him and bringing him closer to her lips once again, all his worries vanished within a second, as if her kiss had some kind of anesthesia. If love means all of that, then yes.

If love means the two of them in his room filled with gasps, kisses, and whispered words as he thrusts her in a slow, intimate way, demonstrated how much he loves her, then yes.

If love is the woman now sitting in front of him on his other desk, her eyebrows together as she concentrates on doing her homework, oblivious to the topic her lover is teaching. She has one of his t-shirts, her neck showing a few love bites he gave her forty minutes before class started, then yes.

He believes in love.

His lips curve into a small smile. Without taking his eyes off her, he says; "Yes."

Once he says that, she looks up at him, grabbing attention to what he just said. He smiles, and she looks at him with a confused smile.

"I do believe in love."

Her smile dropped a little as she stared at him with surprise, then she smiled again, a warm feeling spreading over her chest. She mouthed an 'I love you too' while blowing him a kiss and looking at him with those eyes he loves.

Fuck, how could he not love her eyes? It was like Van Gogh painted them, and Michael Angelo sculpted them. They are so beautiful.

He doesn't care about the consequences of being with a student, he only cares about her.

And she cares about him too.

Until then, she loves him, and he loves her.

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I apologize for any mistakes or misspelling. Any suggestions are appreciated.🫶

[which-item-poll]

[polldermodel]

Stel, je zit in de trein tijdens spitsuur. Je hebt zelf een stoel maar iemand komt binnen die een stok of ander mobiliteit hulpmiddel gebruikt. Geef jij die persoon jouw stoel?

Ja

Nee

Ik ben zelf die persoon met stok

Met dank aan de vrouw in het van Gogh T-shirt die mij zojuist tussen Breda en Rotterdam haar stoel gaf ♡