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#it comes from a Van Gogh letter
milkovski · 1 year
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Hey, could you link that witsbg fic I've seen you tag? Please? I'm dead curious
Hi!!!! I never finished writing that fic!!! If I do I will def link it. I have a lot of feelings abt it and it’d be great if I someday finished writing it …
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pigfacedbitch · 10 months
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It's A Trap!
summary : Prince Arthur uses reader to lure Merlin out whenever he is hiding from him.
word count : 0.5k
type : imagines
pairing/s involved : Merlin x Reader (?)
warning/s : none. just Merlin pining over reader and Arthur being an ass.
here is my masterlist!
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Note : I thought of this when I watched the clip where Arthur is looking for Merlin and he was hiding behind the door. 😂 It was a one shot before and I heavily edited it too.
There is no denying that Prince's Arthur's manservant is in love with (Y/N), a noble lady from one of the most prestigious houses in Camelot.
Everyone, even Arthur himself, knows it. And that's saying something. 🫢😂
From the way Merlin would stare at you with heart in his eyes, how he would follow you everywhere like a dog, or his ears pick up whenever he hears your name.
Gaius almost wants to take a leaf out of Van Gogh's book and tear off his own ears because Merlin wouldn't shut up about you. He also writes about you in his letters for Hunith.
Now, does Arthur take advantage of it? Of course, he does. Like,"Do you know Lady (Y/N) would be there?" or "If you fetch flowers for Gwen, you could also get some for your lady love."
The epitome of the statement, however, is making you his trap. Confused? I'll explain further later.
"Merlin?! Where are you?!"
It's very common for the palace staff to hear the prince of Camelot blaringly calling out to his manservant. Although some people catch Merlin scurrying away from him or has an idea of his whereabouts, no one bothers to tell Arthur anything.
After all, it's completely understandable and why many servants can empathize. As admirable and honorable the prince is, he can be a handful at times.
That's where you come in.
Whenever Arthur has given up searching for Merlin, he would search for you instead.
He often finds you in the gardens with the other noble ladies, helping some servants with menial tasks, or having tea with Morgana and Gwen. Uther enjoys your company too, making the usual stoic ruler laugh and gossip.
"May I excuse Lady (Y/N)? I need her assistance with something."
"Is it Merlin again?"
"...Yes."
You would go to Gaius' chambers, the kitchens, servant's quarters, or anywhere Merlin could've gone to. Then, you would tell anyone that you're looking for him to speak about personal matters and you'll be waiting for him with a place of your choice.
Arthur would wait with you, but he's hiding where Merlin can't see him.
Why do you continue helping the royal prat? It's because you find it funny.
You're also curious, thinking how long will it take Merlin to stop seeking you out because most of the time it's just one of Arthur's traps.
The prince's knights bet on it. Gwaine and Leon are winning— saying how Merlin will never learn.
It's true, he doesn't. I guess love does make you an idiot.
Merlin always approaches you with a beaming grin on his face and blushed cheeks, acting like a lovesick school boy.
"My lady, you were looking for me?"
"Well you see..."
Arthur would wait for Merlin to get closer before grabbing the manservant in his clutches.
"Here you are, you idiot!"
Sometimes Merlin would free himself and run, sometimes he doesn't and Arthur would drag him away while warning him of possible punishments.
But he never misses the chance to look back and give you the most charming smile anyone has ever graced you with.
"Merlin really loves you, doesn't he?" You hear Gwen beside you, linking your arm with hers. Nervous and worried, you reply—
"Yes. I just hope that I get to tell Merlin that I share his affections. But Arthur is always with him."
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uglypastels · 11 months
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Not Wholly Evil |VII| pirate!Eddie au
a/n - ok, so first of all, i cannot thank everyone enough for the support on this fic. i am just in awe at the love its been getting recently. so i think it times out perfectly that this chapter is the one i have been the most excited to write and had been waiting to write since probably chapter 3 or something. I really hope you like it. Be sure to reblog and/or comment (and remember asks are also always welcome!)💗
Series Masterlist
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word count: 5.4k
"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.
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Chapter 7: Four Corners of Heaven
“The heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths it has its pearls too."
- Vincent van Gogh
The ship swayed from side to side, taking you along with it, stumbling from one leg onto the other as you struggled to find your balance. Wardrobe doors flung open, banging against their hinges. Papers flew all over the ground as the desk shifted from its secured position.
A banging noise sank deep into you, pulling you back to the Red Tail. The panic lasted until you realised you heard waves crashing against the window. How tall would they have to be to reach the glass? How strong to be able to open the hinges? 
It smashed against the wall, nearly cracking, but the damage was still done as water spilt inside with vicious attacks. Cursing, you made your way over, trying to close it before the entire floor would be under water. The spurts hit you in your face, shoving it down your throat. The icy feeling froze your skin as the heavy salt taste burned your tongue. By the time you closed the window, you had been drenched. You heaved for air, bend over with your arms on your knees. 
There was shouting outside the room. Incoherent behind the wood and rain layers, but the sense of emergency remained. 
You let yourself fall to the ground, back against the wall. All the commotion was now accompanied by your heartbeat drumming in your ears. When you calmed down, you realised you had still been holding the letter, scrunched into a wet roll between your fist, the water dripping off it came down in dark grey tears. Quickly, you dropped it into one of the desk's drawers and shut it. 
The ship also began to halt its tilt, regaining its composure, and so slowly, your anxiety faded. It allowed you to think; look around. Two longswords were hanging up on the wall, so you grabbed one and did your best to block the mechanics that opened the window. It should hold the water for some time, but you could only hope. You ignored the metal's clanking sound against the glass as the force pushed against it. 
As more shouting erupted from outside, the smaller the room felt. Suddenly you were back on the Red Tail, under the desk, hiding from these men. That was how it had all started, wasn’t it? They hid you away to keep you safe… and yet. The walls closed in on you. The water seemed to rise, but only in your mind, drowning in helplessness. 
If something did happen to this ship, you thought you would die either way, and you might not know many things, but one thing was certain: you would not die in Munson’s cabin.  
When you walked out of the room the past days, you were greeted with plush warm air, as if you had fallen gently atop a pillow. Now, it was more like a hard fall. The wind slapped your entire body, and the harsh rain cut at your cheeks. Each step felt as if you had been anchored to the ground. 
All around you was chaos. Water was everywhere. Rain poured harshly, a million icy bullets coming down your skin, soaking through your clothes. The waves reached a height as you had never seen, coming in closer by the second, threatening to spill over the railings. Some already did, drowning the wooden panelling of the deck, leaving nothing untouched as barrels rolled around. Crew members ran behind them, with meters of ropes, hoping to steady the load, but it was in poor attempts when their feet could barely remain steady. Munson threw around commands, but in these circumstances, his beloved ship had a mind of her own, and it was protesting her captain. 
The rest, in the meantime, did their best to keep up with what the captain had to say. Pulling the sails, ensuring a hold on all the loose cargo on the deck from slipping away. With buckets, they threw out water that splashed onto the ship, but with each wave, the amount only doubled. The men stumbled over themselves, knocking eachother over as the boat swayed immensely. 
You heard your name being called from the side and saw Harrington at the helm. Seeing him in the rain, you could not help but think of a dog. How the animals shrink in size when met with water, shaking and whimpering, just wanting to escape the cold. All of them, in fact, everyone around you, reminded you of it. They were all simply fighting for their life against the elements. 
Harrington looked at you sternly, and you could tell what he was saying with his expression alone. Go inside. But you stared blankly back, with no intention of listening.
That is when the wind picked up, pushing the ship off course. The helm began spinning in circles, and Harrington held onto its spurs for dear life, turning it back with all his remaining power. You could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. His grip kept slipping. He cursed loudly, but there was no one there to help. No one except you. It took you one quick glance to realise it, and once that occurred, you immediately stepped up to him and pulled at the spurs.
Harrington looked taken aback, for a second forgetting the task at hand, and that one second had been enough for him to fall back a few steps and the helm to begin to unfold again, resulting in another loud curse.
‘What are you doing?’ 
‘Helping you!’ you called out; both of you were sputtering as the water of both sea and sky engulfed you. 
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He yelled out moments before another wave hit the vessel's side, and he got knocked off his feet. For a brief moment, until he had regained his stance, you were the only one holding the helm. The weight of the entire ship fell upon you for those brief seconds, which was overwhelming. It was too much, too heavy. You couldn’t carry on on your own. 
Harrington coughed out as he regained a grip on the wheel. He glanced at you with another expression of displeasure at your presence, but there was no longer time for him to argue. You could barely hold the wheel together. Your feet were slipping on the wet floor. 
‘Pull!’ he shouted almost directly into your ear, but he could have been miles away with the thunder roaring over your heads.
‘I am!’ you shouted right back, but clearly, it was not enough.
‘Pull harder than!’ 
I can’t, you wanted to shout back, but that would have been worthless. You were putting in every inch of power you had left in this, yet it would still take much more for the ship to cooperate. By the time you released the helm with certainty, your arms were burning with exhaustion, and your skin was numb from the thousands of pinpricks of the harsh downpour.  
Not that this mattered much. The rest of the ship was still in turmoil. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought a mist had set in from how dense the water came down, covering everything in a grey mass. The wind blew you back three steps for each that you attempted to make. 
You were both breathing heavily, which was hard as it was combined with trying not to swallow the loads of water that came down upon you with each breath you took. Was there even air to breathe at this point? Or had you already sunk into the ocean? Everything felt on top of its head, spinning around. You barely heard what Harrington said as you pulled yourself out of the nausea.
‘What?’ you asked, shouting everything out to come out above the noise. 
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. Now, what was he apologising for? And why now, as the storm was only growing stronger, it seemed. The two of you still stood side by side at the helm, holding it tightly, but now more for your own sake, anchoring yourself from the wind. Across the ship, you saw the rest of the crew battling with the weather. Munson had stopped shouting out commands and was part of a group trying to keep the mizzenmast up. He had discarded his jacket somewhere along the way, leaving him to let the water soak into his shirt, which stuck to him meticulously. 
‘That are you apologising for,’ you turned quickly to Harrington. Facing his direction only caused the rain to directly attack your face. 
‘For listening to him,’ he shouted. As the storm raged on, you doubted anyone could hear the two of you anymore, no matter how loud you spoke. ‘I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, it was stupid.’
‘But why—why did he tell you to do that?’ 
To your surprise, Harrington laughed. ‘I’ve realised long ago it is better not to understand how his mind works.’ 
You wanted to reply that, no, you did want to understand exactly how his mind worked because it was making you insane when suddenly, a crash sounded over the vessel. All heads turned to starboard, where something must have just crashed bast the railing beams. A large whole gaped at the rest of you; a crate had already fallen out, but it was the least of your worries as you saw an arm hanging on for dear life from one of the broken wood beams. 
Munson was the first person to reach the crewman in peril. He reached for him just in time as the man’s grip slipped off the wood. The captain lay flat on his stomach across the deck. Some more men reached him and tried to pull him in, but the ship shifted again on the waves; nothing was in their favour. 
‘Harrington!’ the captain yelled, but when his voice reached you, it was less than a murmur against the wind. ‘HARRINGTON!’ He looked over toward the helm, and that is when he noticed you. 
You didn’t give him the same amount of attention, for you had a better view of everything around. You could see the stack of men that had now gathered at the broken ship’s side, pulling their mate back to safety, but you also saw the barrel that was lopsiding, threatening to fall over with each hit of the waves. They must have missed it when securing everything in haste. From its position, it seemed that if it would topple over, the barrel would roll directly into the panicked rescue operation. 
Harrington, who had been trying to steer the ship as best as he could in the circumstances, must have seen it too, as you had only taken a step to the side, and he had already grabbed your arm. 
‘Let go off me, or I will give you another black eye!’ You threatened. 
‘Have you gone mad!’ He shouted over the yelling below you. 
‘Yes!’ You couldn’t help but smile and possibly not even far from any truth. The last few weeks were maddening in every possible way. Whatever had or would have happened, there was no denying that you had changed, and the most evident proof was right there as you ran down the stairs in an attempt to save the men that you had thought would lead you to your death. Just as you thought you had reached it in time, the barrel tipped over entirely, hitting the ground and immediately started to roll. It rolled in your direction, the only obstruction in its way.
Without thinking, you let yourself crush against it, shoulder to wood. The pain was intense but passed quickly, and though you had let your feet slip and there was nothing to mask the fall, you had still managed to stop the large piece of refuse from hurting the others. 
You could see them pulling the fallen crewmate back onto the deck when you got up. Shuffling through your memories of what you had encountered and heard the past few days, his name didn’t come up, and yet you felt a huge relief fall off you. 
‘You’re welcome!’ you said, tired and feeling heavy. 
Someone helped Munson get up. His hair was stuck all over his face, but when he brushed it aside, you saw his face—full of anger. He stormed over to you or tried to, considering how the ship had thrown him off-balance. 
‘What should I be thanking you for?’ He spat out, primarily due to all the rain that had soaked into him. 
‘For saving your life!’ You had not expected him to be thankful, that was not who Munson was, but you had not imagined him to be angry. Yet, his eyes were rageful, his jaw tense as he looked at you silently and turned to his men to yell out: 
‘Someone secure that damn wall.’ 
Aye. There were already three men on it, trying to block the wrecked piece of the ship. Any proper reparations would have to wait until the storm had run its course. There was no way for them to sit there with the waves splashing into their faces at such speed and force and nowhere to stand without a risk of falling. 
The captain turned back to you. ‘I told you to stay inside.’
‘If I had, you would have been in the water now!’ You shouted back, ‘clearly, you need as many hands on deck as possible.’
‘Not yours.’ He wiped his face off from the rain, but it poured over him with even more strength. ‘Go back to my quarters. Now.’
‘No.’ You stood your ground, pushing back against Munson’s and the wind’s will.  You would not let yourself be stowed away. He could not take this away from you. He could not take you away. You wouldn’t let him. Not again.
‘That is an order.’ He snapped. 
‘I do not take orders from you.' You may not have been much help, but you had already kept Harrington from losing complete control over the helm and practically saved the captain from falling into the ocean's depths. Still, it was not enough to convince the captain, as his reply was clear and straightforward, despite all the noise that muffled your voices from eachother.
‘You’ll die out here!’ A wave pushed you forward, stumbling into his chest. He held you up by your wrist before you both fell. 
‘So will you!’ You looked him in the eyes, pleading. Unsure for what. Something. Anything.
For a moment, you thought you had won him over, but then he looked around, shouting out names of his crewmen, anyone who could hear him or get close enough to you. But they were all too occupied. Finally, one of the coopers, who was already tying up the barrel you had so swiftly taken care of with the rest of the cargo, ran up at the sound of his name.
‘Take care of her before I do,’ Munson told him. The boy—as he seemed younger than most men on this ship—nodded, but you saw in his face he had nothing over you. Before he could reach for you, you pushed past him towards the captain. 
‘I’m not leaving you.’ Perhaps that were not the words you had meant to say. Maybe you simply wanted to say that you were not about to leave this deck, but those were the words to come out of your mouth.
As a response, he asked the same question that crossed your mind as soon as those words had left your mouth. ‘Why?’ 
‘Because–’ but before you could answer, a pair of arms grabbed you and pulled you away. You screamed out, demanding to be let go, but it was all washed out in the storm. It couldn’t have been the boyish cooper that had taken you; his hold was too firm and strong. Whoever they were, they dragged you back toward the cabin on the captain's orders, towards alleged safety. What would happen if they opened the door to reveal a waterfall streaming past their feet because those bloody windows broke open once more? What then? 
But you felt a pinch of pride in your heart because you knew that some days ago, you would not have dared to stand up to the captain with such defiance. You certainly would not have dared to kick and scratch at the man holding you until he let you go. You would have been shoved into that room and locked away, and maybe it would have been for the better because just moments after you freed yourself, you locked eyes with Munson. He was ready to speak, yell, and so were you, but all of that was washed out by a wave. One larger than you had ever seen before. It towered over the ship, dampening everything in its shadow. And then it crashed down. You had just about managed to take one final breath and heard a scream of your name. 
There was a push, and something hit your head, or was it your head that hit something. Either way—
Everything went black. 
That must be what death feels like. Floating, weightlessly numb. There is darkness, and then there is light. It grows and grows, overcoming the chasm and suddenly, all the pain from before is gone.
It is disorienting at first as you try to understand where you are. It all feels familiar and yet impossible at the same time. You do not know how you got there but know the way perfectly well. You remember it all exactly—that day—like no time had ever passed. It must have been years ago. Long before the wreckage and the fire and the storm and chaos. Long before him. And yet… 
As you come to, but not exactly, you hear the mewing of seagulls. A flock hovers over your head. The sun shines brightly. As you move your hand, blades of grass tickle your fingertips and that smell… the sweet scent of summer. 
There’s a weight on your stomach. A book. You had been reading it for hours under the tree. The large lime tree in the garden, but to call it a garden is an understatement. The branches rock gently in the breeze, shaking their leaves in a greeting. 
You sit up, letting your back rest against the tree bark. In the distance are voices, children playing, merchants selling their produce, and animals roaming freely over the streets like any other day. 
Then you hear it. 
‘Gentlemen, I think we have an agreement then,’ your father says as he emerges from a corridor. You want to jump into his arms, tears already welling up in the corner of your eyes, but that is not how that day had gone. 
Besides, he has company. 
‘Yes, sir,’ a second man replies. ‘The troops are all ready to go.’ 
‘Brilliant,’ your father says. None of them have realised that you were sat there yet, able to hear every word they said. If they had, they would have sent you away. Not because any of their matters are private or a secret, it is just some light conversation between commanders. They would have sent you away because you, as a lady, have no reason to be bothered by such topics. 
You dare to peek a glance at the men accompanying your father. Like all the others before, they must be some kind of officer; their appearance told you as much. You had seen plenty of these types of men. Your father often invited those who harboured their ships in town. No matter where they were from. Although, they seemed to be wearing similar colours to what the soldiers around your house wore. 
You didn’t know either of the two men’s names that day. Why would you? It was the first time you had seen them in a lifetime full of new faces. And it would be several years until you would see them again. Years that would barely change admiral Carver’s appearance. He had maintained his boyish young looks until the day he died. 
By now, you knew you had fallen deep into a dream, but how much of it was fantasy? It felt like a memory, but why were you haunted by demons? Maybe it was your brain filling in gaps, playing tricks on you, covering up a face you had entirely erased from your memory by one you could never forget. That did not seem right, however. The pieces fell too perfectly into place. Just not in any way, you had expected them to. 
It was a trick. It must be. That was, could, not him, after all. His hair was neatly tied back and much shorter, to begin with. Though mostly covered with the shadow of his brimmed hat, his face was fuller, happier, and clean-shaven. His fingers were clean, and light without the weight of those large silver rings, and his clothes were the pristine uniform of the navy, which could not possibly hide a lifetime of scars and tattoos underneath them. It simply could not be.
And yet, when he catches your eye, that same pair of warm brown eyes catch you off guard. He smiles your way, tipping his hat, saying ‘ma’am’ with a smile before catching up to the rest of his entourage.
You awoke in a sheen of cold sweat, but it might have been the storm's remnants. The gentle feeling of grass blades against your fingers was exchanged into a harch grip on the bedsheets you lay upon. The only thing you could hear was your breathing, but behind that was the tap-tap-tapping of rain against the window. That’s where he stood, leaning against the glass by his side, arms crossed as he looked at you. No expression that you could make out in any sense, not because of the lack thereof, but because the emotions came in abundance.
‘What happened?’ Speaking felt like you had inhaled a bucket of sand instead of water; your throat had wholly dried out. 
‘What do you remember?’ the captain walked over to the bed with a cup of water to hand you, which you took with a shaky hand. 
‘Everything… I think.’ One sip had been enough to heal your drought. ‘There was a storm and a wave—’ 
‘Nearly washed us out,’ Munson filled in the gaps. His voice was steady, emotionless. Somehow, that felt worse than if he had been angry. He was holding back on you. ‘You hit your head and been asleep—we assumed you were sleeping—for six hours. More or less.’ But the longer he kept on talking, the more of a shake you felt in him. How he was holding back the rage that had exploded out of the both of you during the storm.
He continued talking. ‘We should be arriving at the harbour of Saint Claire shortly.’
‘I don’t understand,’ you let your fingers ghost over your forehead, which was wrapped in bandages, and a flash of pain blinded you momentarily. 
‘It’s a small island, not far off course. Safer for the night than the waters.’ The storm had calmed down but had not found its rest just yet. 
‘No, I don’t mean that,’ you said, standing up. 
‘Don’t get up,’ He tried to push you back but decided against making contact, which you took as an opportunity to defy his wishes. 
‘Do not tell me what to do, Munson.’ You were tired of it, and his constant commands made you sick…. Or was it the dizziness you felt as you got up too fast? Munson caught you just in time before you would hit your head again. Only then you realised that his shirt was still wet. It stuck to you like it stuck to him. His hair was a mess too. He must have come out of the rain moments ago.
He set you back up on your feet just to bring you back onto the bed. Once your head stopped spinning, you weakly asked: ‘Is everyone okay?’
‘You seem to have gotten the worst of it.’ 
‘Of course,’ you laughed at your own fortune. ‘Look,’ you made a second attempt to get up, hitting the last of the captain’s nerves.
‘Why won’t you ever listen?’ He grunted as he held you up. 
‘Because I don’t want to.’ You swatted away his hands, letting go of him entirely. ‘Will you stop that!’
‘Stop what?’
‘Pretending like you give a damn about me while we both know that I am not worth a dime of your time..’ 
He sighed, pivoting your tangent. 
‘No, sorry, you have your bounty to look forward to, of course, but don’t worry, I will personally write a letter to my father to tell him to just give you all his money, no matter in what state I return home if you will just leave me alone!’
‘Will you please stop yelling.’ He had his head rolled back, looking up at the ceiling. His fists clenched, and he walked around the room to calm down.
‘No! I am tired of this. All of this. I am tired of being treated like vermin.’
‘Vermin?’ He scoffed this time, turning his head to you in disbelief. ‘I’ve given you my clothes, my bed and two perfectly fine meals every day, and that’s what you think this is?’
‘Yes, and I’m very thankful for that, just as I am for being locked in a cage for days and now—what, you’re isolating me from your entire crew like I have the pest?’
‘I did no such thing!’ He was quick to defend himself from the accusation.
‘So, just Harrington then? Do not lie to me, Munson; I saw how he avoided me the whole time, then tried to not sound as if you had not commanded him to not speak to me.’
‘It was his own will that followed that order. I gave him a choice.’ 
‘What was it, listen or die?’ That sounded about right for you. 
‘We do not kill on this ship,’ he said sternly, seriously, almost more severe than you had ever heard him speak. 
‘Only on every other ship?’ With a snap, the window burst open again, letting in the whistling wind and the last drops of rain into the room, but it went unnoticed by the two of you as all the focus lay in the vicious words you threw back and forth.
‘Only those who deserve it. Yes.’ His face was set in anger, and you backed away, not because of his appearance but what he had admitted to. 
‘What did my men deserve? They were innocent!’’ Everyone on the ship must have heard you if they had not already been listening to the rest of the conversation.
‘Of course, we’re all just innocent men, aren’t we?’ He regained his need for theatrics as he spread his arms invitingly, laughing hysterically. ‘Everyone except for me, that is. I am the big scary monster at the bottom of the sea that you should fear. That’s what I am, right, darling? I’m the monster.’ He also began to get louder with each word, his words slurred with exhaustion. That is when you noticed the bottle on the edge of the desk. The rest of the room lay in disarray, but the bottle stood pristinely on the corner of the oaken desktop, uncorked without anything spilt it, but nonetheless half empty. 
‘Are you drunk?’ You reached for the bottle.
‘You wish, princess.’ He laughed. ‘Then maybe I wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. But please, be my guest, drink–’ he pointed at the bottle you were holding, ‘eat, take my clothes, my bed, men, maybe go through all of my belongings once more, read my personal correspondence like its a bloody periodical. Jump of the ship if you please. I do not care.’ He threw his arms up, and something in you tightened. Of course, he knew about you, having read the letter. But should you feel guilty about it now? When he just admitted to targeting your friends? So many things were going through your head, and words you wanted to say to him, but only one question truly encapsulated it all.
‘What is your problem?’ 
‘You.’ He pointed sternly, so there was no confusion on the matter, ‘You are my problem. Have been since the very first day.’
‘Well, if only there had been a solution to that,’ you threw your arms up in faux-surrender, ‘Like maybe, not kidnapping me, or you could have left me to die on my ship or, even better, not ambushing my ship!’ 
‘You were never meant to be on that ship!’ He yelled out, letting out all his frustrations while all of yours disintegrated at that moment, too, as you let his words go through you. The next word you spoke was too overcrowded by confusion to be heard from a distance. 
‘What?’
‘You know you weren’t supposed to be there.’ He blinked, and something in him cracked. A part of him you had never seen before that had come out by mistake and was now vulnerable against everything. ‘It was supposed to be them—him—’ 
‘How do you know that?’ 
‘Because I know them. You speak of what a monster I am, but I know what kind of monsters they are and what they do, and I know you’re not one of them.’ 
‘You don’t know anything about me!’ You gritted your teeth as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. With each sentence spoken between you, unbeknownst to either, utterly subconsciously, you had both pulled at an invisible string. Pulling each other closer and closer until there was nowhere left to pull; the knot tied you down. Inseparable.
Munson looked down at you, the angles of his features suddenly softer, eyes flickering over all the corners of your face. ‘Well, what do you know about me?’
If he had asked you this any other day, any other minute, even if it had been ten seconds before, you would have been able to answer him directly with no hesitation. But, unfortunately, he had asked it right at this moment, as you stood only inches apart. Breathing the same air in and out. Everything around you dampened. It was just you and him. No sound, no light, no touch. Time sped up and slowed down at the same time. You could have stood there for an hour or a second, which would not have mattered.
You were still fighting to find the words when he touched your cheek and pulled you in. His lips practically crashed into yours with the force of a burning sun, and that is what must have burst inside you as he did. All thoughts fizzled away from your mind to the point that the only thing you could think of was his body on yours. The touch between the two of you. His lips on yours, hand on cheek, chest to chest. 
But as smoothly as those thoughts had dissolved, as quickly they rematerialised when he pulled away. And with the moment of clarity, you let your body speak for itself as now your hand met his cheek.
Harshly. 
The impact ghosted your palm as the red mark across his jawline began to form. Following your hand’s movement, he turned his face away but slowly came back to you, and nothing had changed about him. You could not read anything of him. He was a closed book. A tall wall between two cursed lands.
But that is when you realised that something had changed in you. Deep within.
A fracture.
It must have been there for ages, shattering away small pieces here and there as time passed. Each day, no matter how hard you tried to keep them under control, the cracks would grow and grow, ready to burst out whatever it was hiding on the other side. This thing that was hungry for something. Something you had never known you wanted, even needed, but now could not live another second without. As your chest still rose with anger, and the final crack formed, breaking the foundations apart, you leaned in and let your lips meet his for a second time. Without letting another second go to waste, he grabbed you tightly and pulled you in, closing any possible gaps. Bursting through the walls. 
Like a cannon, 
straight through the heart.
The damage was done. 
Chapter 8
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thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.
and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging. I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P
you are also more than welcome to join the Eddie Munson taglist. right here.
taglist (part 1)
@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @strangerfreaks @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @vintagehellfire @raven-rust @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @imjusteddietrashatthispoint @lunar-corgimon
@dorianelizabeth @theletterhart@pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreader @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @wroteclassicaly @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington
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d0llcherry · 1 month
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Apologies for tumblr being hungry and eating requests </3 ! Just resending mine! I wanna ask for Yandere!Miss Sasha hc’s please ! but if I may specify, with a reader who’s a very shy and timid teacher
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୨୧ SHAPE OF U ✮⋆˙
Yandere miss sasha x shy and timid reader
A/N: Miss sasha is such a cutie! same scenario: you are a teacher in this, Now all I need is Miss Circle to complete the list of characters I want to write about (def not a cry for someone to request about yandere Miss Circle).
TW:Yandere topics, gaslighting, delusion, does someone make shrines of you counts as a trigger? remember: Yanderes are not hot, they can be extremely dangerous always stay away from individuals like this.
Type: Angst/fluff, romantic, HCS
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୨୧ right off the bat: Sasha finds you adorable!! she likes how u can get flustered so easily, thats one of the main characteristics she likes about you, so obviously she will comment how adorable you are in her eyes.
୨୧ she would NOT be happy if someone made fun of how you act, she wouldnt hurt that person, but would make their school life hell at least in her subject, no one will make fun of you, not in her watch.
୨୧ Of course, as a yandere, she uses your timid nature to her advantage, but not in a nitid way to not risk you actually catching up on her unhealthy obsession crush towards you, she would be embarrassed to bits if you found out that she has a silly crush on you.
୨୧ She draws you at any chance she gets, some she gives you as a gift, others she keeps to herself... she probably has a shrine of arts and doodles of you that she drew, she probably featured herself in 50% of these drawings.
୨୧ she would make poetic love letters who would always compliment you or your work as a teacher, you bet that the letters has lots of drawings of you in chibi version in the corners and lots of hearts drawed in it.
୨୧ She would definitely call you a "work of art" and that you could be easily sculptured in a statue, all that cheesy art things, also, she would probably use that van gogh pick lines like "i love you like van gogh loved the stars" (was it van gogh? idfk)
୨୧ Sasha is obsessive, manipulative, delusional, harmless (in a "kill someone" way) and a very smart type of yandere, she would probably one of the less dangerous yanderes to have in the school, if someone tried to take you away from her, she would only manipulate you to get away from the person by inventing lies about them or maybe setting up a false situation that proves her false point.
୨୧ I think Sasha would be delusional because she wouldnt see that what she is doing is unhealthy and possibly harmful for the darling's mental health, she genuinely thinks she is just experiencing love.
୨୧ Sasha would probably be very dumb founded if you finally letted go from your shy manner and tried to leave her, she thought she was doing everything right, what do you mean she was gaslighting you into staying away from everyone you met? she was only protecting you!
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୨୧ Sasha would beg for you not to leave her, i mean, you made her feel more alive than art did! you were her everything! she wont know what to do if you leave her, she might lose her sparkle and she doesnt want that, so please, please stay with her.
୨୧ "Come on darling... your not going to actually leave me.. right?"
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derangedrhythms · 7 months
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For my part, I still continue to have the most impossible and highly unsuitable love affairs, from which as a rule I come away with little more than shame and disgrace. 
Vincent van Gogh, from ‘The Letters of Vincent van Gogh’ ⁠— Willemien van Gogh - late October 1887, tr. Arnold Pomerans
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rain and mint tea and rambles
Hi maggots. It's me, thinking thoughts, again. I do that far too often.
Monsoon has begun, I do believe. The stupefying heat wave broke to let water crash onto the soil, out of which puffs the scent of petrichor. Ever so often the heat builds in the day, but yields to a thunderstorm come nightfall. Perhaps it'll only last a few weeks, but I'm so glad anyway.
I made a mug of mint tea. By which I mean I dropped a teabag into hot water, in one of the five mugs Lina bought me. I was so delighted last night when the heat slowly revealed the images of a whale emoji, a photo of me edited with Crowley's eyes, and fanart of me that said happy birthday, maggot prince with the Spotify code of a playlist you all added songs to. It's been days since my birthday, but I still keep finding bits of love that you sent my way.
I love the playlist. It's as chaotic as we are. There's Cavetown and ABBA and Queen, Bollywood dance music and sad songs and rap, Taylor Swift and a Rickroll and silly songs and Disney soundtracks.
Everything looks different in the rain. The leaves lose their dusty shroud, glittering emerald and lime and quivering in the damp breeze. The light is quieter, softer, grey. It smells of life. The sky swirls with clouds like Van Gogh tried to make art but ran out of paint, with only the greyish paintwater left.
I'm sorry about all the DMs and asks I haven't replied to yet. I swear it's not because I care. It's because I care too much, I care so much that sometimes it overwhelms me. Please don't stop sending me asks because of that, though. I promise I do read them, even if it takes a while for me to reply. You aren't bothering me. You could never. I love you too much. Be as crazy as you like. It's me.
Weirdly enough, as I wrote that paragraph, Nothing New by Phoebe Bridgers and Taylor Swift played. "Are we only biding time 'til I lose your attention? And someone else lights up the room? People love an ingenue." "How do I go from growing up to breaking down? And I wake up in the middle of the night, it's like I can feel time moving. How can a person know everything at 18, and nothing at 22? Will you still want me, when I'm nothing new?"
It's difficult to believe I'm 20 now. That shouldn't be allowed. It's such a weird age, isn't it, 20? It's so, so young, it's so new, it's so terrifyingly timid.
I swear I knew more at 14 than I do now. I swear so many of you know so much more than I do. I don't know anything at all, most days. I don't know who I am. But you do. Thank you for bringing out not the best of me, not the worst of me, but the realest of me.
I love you. I got into art school, by the way. Life is not going the way I expected it to. And the horrors persist, trapping me in my dreams, suffocating me the way a pillow never could. But then I wake up and I think about you, and that keeps me going.
Look at you, saving a guy, every single day. How insanely wonderful.
The rain has stilled. My brother will be pleased, he bought a ticket to go to a cricket match. I think I'll go for a drive with my mum and Roxie. She loves drives. She knows them as 'car byebyes'. She sits on my lap in the front seat and looks out the window, nose sniffing and getting excited whenever I say look, a bow-wow and a dog passes.
I'll scoot now. If this long letter landed up on your dash and messed it up, I really do apologise, I try not to tag these. If you read it this far, then wow, hi. I love you. If you skipped to the end, I love you. If you don't read this, I love you. I love you all, so much.
I hope you have the loveliest of days.
I'll see you soon, maggots of mine.
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tainbocuailnge · 2 years
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vincent van gogh’s sister willemina exchanged letters with her brother until his death, though her side of the correspondence has been lost and the contents of her letters can only be extrapolated from vincent’s responses. in one of vincent’s letters to her he responds to her expressing a desire to become a writer and gives his review on the piece she wrote called “planten & den regen” (plants and the rain). vincent’s response to planten & den regen is the only remaining record of willemina’s writings and his interpretation of the piece is that it’s about the potential for growth inherent in everything even if it doesn’t come to fruition, and the providence of higher powers. he also tells her not to worry about needing an education to become a writer, falling in love and living a full life would serve her far better on that front. (source on the letter)
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after her brothers vincent and theo as well as her father all died in close succession, willemina’s own mental health slowly deteriorated and eventually she was taken into a psychiatric institution. surviving patient records describe her as often sitting completely motionless in her chair for hours on end, alternated with violent outbursts and strong hallucinations. although she occasionally attempted suicide, her caretakers kept her from succeeding and she ultimately died of old age. (source, in dutch)
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both the plants in the rain and the chair are referenced in van gogh’s noble phantasm animation. it’s very particular imagery that has no direct relation to vincent or clytie, the plant in the rain alone could be taken to refer to clytie being a water nymph that turned into a plant but the chair makes it too specific to be about anyone else. vincent’s interpretation of willemina’s writing also aligns with the function of her noble phantasm, namely to make foreigner servants achieve their full potential in accordance with the providence of the foreign gods. the van gogh part of her saint graph isn’t just vincent.
this is kind of event spoilers for na at this point i suppose (boo just read fantranslations like the rest of us if you’re following me you knew about her components already anyway) but it’s pretty obvious the whole time that she’s not really vincent and neither did the foreign god that cobbled her together directly use the person vincent. she barely refers to herself as vincent, if at all, it’s pretty much always just van gogh as far as I remember. they took the base of clytie’s body and then grafted the misery, the reputation of the name van gogh onto her. vincent was just a depressed and unsuccessful painter in life, it’s only posthumously that he ended up getting held up as some kind of patron saint of mentally ill artists. armchair psychologists turned to figuring out what was wrong with willemina as a way to figure out what was wrong with vincent all to figure out how it connected to his art. the foreign god didn’t want “vincent” it wanted "the van gogh that went mad”, “the madness at the root of van gogh’s art” to function as their evil apotheosis catalyst and there was more than one source of that. obviously she’s neither vincent or willemina. she’s not even really clytie. but she’s made of what they’ve been made to represent so the name van gogh is hers to use if she wants it.
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concerningwolves · 1 month
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we often quote the "wheat is wheat" quote from Van Gogh, but this one has just come along and taken me out at the godamn knees:
Occasionally, in times of worry, I’ve longed to be stylish, but on second thoughts I say no – just let me be myself – and express severe, rough, yet true things with rough workmanship — Vincent van Gogh, letter 210
because isn't that just it? when you're making art – any kind of art – there's always always this temptation to fit yourself and your work into socially-acceptable boxes. to appeal to mainstream tastes. and at some point you have to say "this is me. this is my work. it may seem unpalatable and strange to you but this is the story i'm telling, whether you're ready for it or not", and then you have to cling to that resolve even when it seems really really hopeless, because you will find your audience, somewhere, somehow. it might just be a few people it resonates with, but someone will need your art and your vision, and you have to keep creating long enough for them to find it.
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bronzetomatoes · 7 months
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to people interested in more of Van Gogh's writing, most of what we know about him comes from his hundreds of letters that were kept by his correspondents (mainly his brother, Theo). Unfortunately he didn't keep hardly any of the letters sent to him, but the site linked is an incredible resource that has scans of all the available letters, transcripts, English translations, historical context, added notes, and artworks included. it's genuinely a phenomenal site that i can't believe i found in a wikipedia footnote
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regicidal-optimism · 10 months
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The Great American Novel - a fic by @astronomeridian for @mcytblraufest
1 / skull of a skeleton with burning cigarette - vincent van gogh / come when I call you - the klezmatics / signs you're about to be in a gay subplot in a period drama - the toast / the history of sodomy laws in the united states - george painter / greater horrors - anthony discenza / beer in sunbeam - vincent giarrano / two-minute personality test - jonathan safran foer
2 / a postmark betrayed this hq - abram games / bruz fletcher livened up the 1930s - stuart timmons / drunk with love - bruz fletcher / two-minute personality test - jonathan safran foer / how to tell if you are in an oscar wilde play - the toast / dark room keep door closed / come when I call you - the klezmatics
3 / tolga oral / the synonym of companion / the next war - wilfred owen / come when I call you - the klezmatics / night fireworks no. 94 - jinta hirayama / is there anything up the spout? - abram games / two-minute personality test - jonathan safran foer / but you can't let it / how to tell if you are in an e. m. forster novel - the toast / letter from j. robert oppenheimer to leslie groves, on the name chosen for the location of the trinity test
4 / radek pestka / conscientious objector - edna st. vincent millay / tuomo design / how to tell if you are in an oscar wilde play - the toast / come when I call you - the klezmatics / joshua dixon / est1987co / two-minute personality test - jonathan safran foer / careless talk brings tragedy in wartime - l. b. jameson
5 / attachement iv - anne-christine roda / signs you're about to be in a gay subplot in a period drama - the toast / bruz fletcher livened up the 1930s - stuart timmons / drunk with love - bruz fletcher / map of the trinity test site / the frozen moon - i. m. panayotopoulos, trans. kimon friar / back view of a seated nude youth facing left - annibale caracci / salted galaxy / the history of sodomy laws in the united states - george painter / come when I call you - the klezmatics / two-minute personality test - jonathan safran foer
6 / remington brand no. 2 - james neil / two-minute personality test - jonathan safran foer / judgement - the hayworth tarot - jessica hayworth / come when I call you - the klezmatics / solar eclipse / how to tell if you are in an e. m. forster novel - the toast / bruz fletcher livened up the 1930s - stuart timmons
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ifthiswingscouldfly · 2 years
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How they act around their crush?
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Napoleon Bonaparte
Act like a hero in front of his crush.
Uses all his charisma around his crush.
Can be a teaser too.
He usually show off his muscles to impress his crush.
And this always work.
Protective and genuine.
Have no shame towards his feelings for you.
.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
When he have a crush on someone nothing really changes.
He act the same around them especially if one of the suitors are around.
But expect him to be more soft when you both are alone.
Like he will try to reassure you and have his sweet talk with you.
.
Leonardo Da Vinci
There's A LOT of teasing about you kissing him.
Some of his jokes goes to the fact the you really like him.
Also he is going to show off his skills.
He will fix things that doesn't really need to be fixed just to impress you.
Will throw a horny joke just to make you a blushing mess.
It is so frustrating to be around him when he is crushing on you.
.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Throws so much compliments towards their crush.
Always talking about how wonderful you are.
Have no shame to talk about how he feel when he is around his crush.
Probably he is the one that would get drunk and sing how much he love you under your balcony.
Can be a dick sometimes causing you problems including himself too.
Love to tease omg.
.
Vincent Van Gogh
Baby sunflower boy is so shy and indecisive around his crush.
He would try to pick up his courage to hang out with her.
Will send her letters with sebastian telling her he want to spend time with her.
Very obliging and genuine around his crush.
He is ready to throw himself at her feet if she needed help.
.
Theodorus Van Gogh
Omg he is meaner around his crush.
Like not the mean Theo in the normal situation but the meaner.
Would talk to Arthur about how much he like her.
And Arthur would tease him.
The only way he show that he care is when he give you advice.
Like he would say "work hard hondje!".
Also you'll know if he like you if you ask Arthur, he wouldn't hesitate telling you.
.
Dazai Osamu
It's complicated to know if he likes you or not.
But at this point he can send mixed signals.
You'll probably find him a good listener when you're talking so he can know what you like or dislike exactly.
He always have a story to tell and he know how to keep you entertained for a while unless you were curious about him and his past he will ignore your curiosity so he don't open up.
One of the dumbest suitors when it comes to his own feelings.
Can't face the fact the he really did like you.
.
Isaac Newton
He isn't the one to fall in love from the first sight.
Shy around his crush and he would try to make a space between both of you.
You'll find him staring at you from a distance.
Wouldn't take the first step obviously, that's why he need an extroverted girl.
He would invite you to star gazing with him.
While doing that he would listen carefully to every word that come out your mouth so he can analyze them later by himself.
.
Jean D'arc
This man is shy too.
Would hide his feelings and bottle them up.
He wouldn't hate being around you but the main problem is warning you.
Yeah he will warn you that he is a monster and he would talk badly about himself.
Need someone who is kind and patient to reach him.
Protective when it comes to you.
.
William Shakespeare
When he have a crush on someone oh God here we go again.
Would make excuses to be around them.
He will stalk his crush knowing every movement she make and who is the people she is dealing with.
Would invite her to dinner after collecting A LOT of information about her.
And she would be surprised about how much he guessed her favorite stuff, of course he knew because he was stalking her.
Seriously he is afraid of being close to her and being far away from her, but when she realized he cares about her.
She can reassure him that it is okay if they're together.
.
Le Comte De Saint Germain
Okay he is very friendly with everyone so when he have a crush on someone it might be difficult to know.
He would act more cold and serious around her.
His feelings or mask will fall off the moment he sense there's a danger around his crush.
Protective and obliging towards his crush.
He is good when it comes to mind games but if his crush isn't the type for mind games he would be straight forward.
Will ask her if it is okay to spend more time with him.
.
Sebastian/ Akihiko satou
He is caring in general.
But when it comes to him having a crush on a girl it is a different story.
He is still acting secretive and mysterious around his crush.
Would take her on a date but is it a real date? She'll never know.
Ask her politely if it is okay to spend time with each other.
He is really into slow burn relationships and prefer them because he can get to know the other partner on a slow realistic level.
Can't be honest with his feelings and would never show them to anyone especially his crush.
.
Vlad's mansion
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Vlad
When he have a crush on someone they will never know.
A lot of eye contact with their crush.
You wouldn't realize he is into you.
Same as comte he is into mind games.
If his crush is an innocent girl she wouldn't realize he is having a crush on her.
Would give her flowers and here's the game.
He is sending messages with flowers.
It is kind of interesting how he make you solve a puzzle using only flowers.
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Charles Henri-Sanson
He can't really realize whether it is just a crush or he have a real feelings for her.
Can be really desperate for attention.
But not in a bad way, you need just to teach him what is the difference between love and like.
Being with Charles is a full time job.
He love to touch you and give you all he have but all of this because of the fact that he need someone to love him for who he is.
After teaching him what a healthy relationship and boundaries is you'll find him realizing his own feelings.
.
Johann Georg Faust
He is cold and sadistic in general.
Dealing with his feelings isn't his job.
He prefer to keep everything for himself.
You wouldn't really know if he have a crush on you.
But in fact he would say some creepy lines like "you have a beautiful skeleton", "your flesh smell amazing".
Probably he will creep his crush out.
Reaching deep down he is feeling a sweet and warm sensation in his heart.
Looking at his crush he know now what is the reason behind that sweet sensation.
⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰~•~⁰
Post date: 3/9/2022
Day: Saturday
《Note》:
I hope you liked my work and thank you for reading it.
- Follow me for more
M
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metamorphesque · 1 year
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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)
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yanderepuck · 2 years
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So if you didn't know, Vincent loved Japan and Japanese art and even did some painting inspired by Japanese woodblock prints. His Japanese inspired art is referred to as 'japonaiserie'
And I think Almond Blossoms is considered japonaiserie.
He never got to visit Japan, but some of his paintings have Japanese writing in them, so I'm guessing he tried to study Japanese at some point.
So imagine Dazai getting to the mansion and Vincent being ecstatic. He has a lot of questions and he probably knows enough words to have a simple conversation with Dazai.
And this probably makes Dazai really happy. Bc he's in France, in a time period where he doesn't exist, and his ray of sunshine comes to him and starts speaking in the little Japanese he knows with so much confidence, and it just makes him feel welcome.
Dazai helps him with Japanese and answers his questions. Then Sebastian comes alone and Vincent is even happier. IMAGINE THE LOOK ON SEBASTIAN'S FACE WHEN VINCENT VAN GOGH STARTS SPEAKING JAPANESE TO HIM.
I found this from a letter Vincent wrote to Theo in 1888: And we wouldn’t be able to study Japanese art, it seems to me, without becoming much happier and more cheerful, and it makes us return to nature, despite our education and our work in a world of convention.
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And a picture I took when in the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam
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shookspearewrites · 2 years
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Heya my lovely anon! Thank you for your kindness, it’s so lovely and reassuring to have your support ^^ I’m sorry this took me so so long to write - my break from writing was wayyyy longer than I had expected it to be but, hopefully I’ll be properly back on Tumblr from now on!
- JJ x
~~~~~~~~~~
Leonardo Da Vinci:
He’ll be so gentle with you as you sob against his warm chest, telling him how you want to leave the mansion and that he should forget about you. Big capable hands will rub your back soothingly, his rich Italian accent will quietly hush your cries and tell you the sweetest affections, reassuring you of his love. 
Leonardo will honestly be a little stunned when he finds out that you’re pregnant but so overwhelmingly happy that you’re carrying his baby. When you tell him that he should leave you and that he’d be better off without you, he’ll beg you to stay, “Cara mia, I want nothing more than you and our bambino. Don’t go, tesoro.”
If you tell him you need some space and time to think and process everything, Leonardo will give you space but will always be near by in case you need him for anything and to keep an eye on you (He’s very overprotective of you, especially now that you’re carrying his child). He’ll leave you trays of tea and sweets, bunches of flowers and love letters by your bedroom door until you feel ready to come out again.
Leonardo is so excited that you two will be having a child together and he dedicates himself to preparing to be the best father in the world. He’ll build nursery furniture and toys for your baby, spend hours painting the nursery and do as much of the work as he possibly can so you can relax and put your feet up: He just wants you, the love of his life, to be comfy.
Theodorus van Gogh:
“What’re you doing back here? Who’s the kid?” Theo’s voice is gruff when he sees you again, finally back in the mansion after you left three years ago without explaining yourself. He crouches down to your daughter who toddles up to him and grasps at his soft scarf and rubs it against her chubby cheek, giggling. Theo’s heart is in his throat when he notices the toddler’s icy blue eyes and caramelly brown hair, “You look just like your daddy, huh?”
The conversation between you and Theo is slow and awkward at first but after your child falls asleep in his lap, he’ll begin to open up. Honestly, he’s missed you while you went back to your time, how he’d resorted to praying that you’d come back to him and how he wishes you’d never broken things off with him.
Theo will do everything in his power to make you feel comfy and loved now that you’re back in his life; he’ll finally swallow his pride (well, most of it) and make sure that you know how much you and your daughter mean to him. 
He takes to fatherhood like a duck to water and he adores being a dad. Not a day goes by when you won’t see Theo carrying your little one around on his shoulders and grinning as he teaches her about the world and she giggles back to him. He loves taking your daughter to work with him and showing her all of the art he thinks she’ll like - and then taking her to get all the ice cream and sweets that she wants because he simply cannot say no to her. 
William Shakespeare:
“Mine lambkin ...” Will exhales softly when he finally sees you again after months of being cooped up in le Comte’s mansion, a baby sleeping peacefully in your arms. He’ll drop whatever papers and scripts he’s carrying and run to you, his eyes brimming with tears when he sees the new-born you held, “What a divine little angel.” 
He might be a little distant at the beginning, unsure if he’s prepared to be a dad and uncertain if you even want him in your life since you left him and hid in the mansion when you found out you were pregnant.
Shakespeare will be a little hesitant when you invite him back into your life, afraid he’ll do something wrong and turn you away again but, once he gains a bit more confidence, he’ll always go above and beyond for you and the baby. 
He loves being a dad, especially when your little one gets big enough to take to the theatre - you best believe that that kid is going to be a little thespian! Shakespeare will make little costumes for your baby and let them run amuck in the theatre as much as they like. Will especially loves those special evenings walking along the Seine, hand in hand with you and your child as the sun sets over Paris on the way home to make dinner together.
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derangedrhythms · 10 months
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There may be a great fire in your soul, but no one ever comes to warm himself by it, all that passers-by can see is a little smoke coming out of the chimney and they walk on. 
Vincent van Gogh, from ‘The Letters of Vincent van Gogh’ ⁠— Theo van Gogh - July 1880, tr. Arnold Pomerans
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tarotwithlove · 2 years
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pick a card: pick a van gogh painting
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.。*♡ messages for you; what do you need to hear right now?
group 1 : enclosed field with ploughman, 1889 / group 2 : stairway at auvers, 1890 / group 3 : oleanders, 1888
reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.
personal readings are open! look at my pinned post, carrd or dm for more information.
feedback, constructive criticism, requests and tips are appreciated, pp cupidfemme
IMPORTANT NUMBERS: 707 · 404 · 555 · 5555
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1. ENCLOSED FIELD WITH PLOUGHMAN, 1889
“many of wheat field theme paintings van gogh made during this time period are similar and all include the huge glowing orb of the sun, which he had come to view with a religious symbolism. the overall yellow tonality of this picture, bar the strip of mountains and wheat field, makes the peasant toiling in the field almost a part of the field itself, and similarly the lines of the figure match the fluid curves of the bending wheat field.”
channeled song: good night by nct
“i'll hold you in my arms and comfort you, good night, my love” • “it's okay, the pain is temporary” • “don't be in pain i'll be with you, don't even worry in your dreams because i'm here”
cards pulled: knight of swords (reversed), death (reversed), nine of wands
hey there, group one ♡ right now things may not be going very well for you, are they? you're filled with energy and motivation but, with nowhere to direct it and just wanting to put it somewhere, anywhere, so that it does not feel like it's all going to waste, you may be acting far too rashly. you may be feeling overwhelmed because it seems that everything you do fails despite your effort and passion.
there is change waiting for you, but you are so overwhelmed and stuck on past mindsets and patterns of behaviour that you aren't allowing them into your life.
opportunities are being granted to you that you do not accept out of fear. you have worked so hard and put in so much effort and overcome so much, and you must know that you are deserving of these opportunities. you might be looking back with regrets, wondering what would have happened if you had said “yes” instead of “no” but this does not serve you. look forward instead and do not give up, even if you feel like now is the time to do so. you are incredibly held and supported by not only god and spirit but those who love you, even if it may seem as if there are only people who do not. every obstacle, every hardship, is truly only making you stronger and shaping you into the universe's best version of you.
know that you are completely capable, that your efforts will not go to waste, and that it is okay to slow down. actually, you are being begged to slow down, even for a moment; to take some time to rest in order to strengthen yourself for this final hurdle before you meet your achievements.
2. STAIRWAY AT AUVERS, 1890
“in one of his final letters, van gogh described auvers as “of a grave beauty, the real countryside, characteristic and picturesque.””
channeled song: winterlude '17 – simon dominic
cards pulled: four of pentacles, eight of cups, four of swords
hey there, group two ♡ the message that i have for you is that, right now, you are being asked to re-examine your relationship with money and what is it being affected by. this relationship with money may be such that it is greatly restricting you from enjoying your life, and may be seeing you fall into one of two extremes: either saving and stockpiling out of fear of poverty or financial hardship, or spending too much, only finding pleasure in the material, and not saving enough, so that when you do need money you may not have any.
while, for one, it is important to save and invest, this process should not occur at the expense of your happiness and freedom. money is meant to flow to and through you to others; it is a tool meant to give you the life that you deserve, and has come to you through very hard work and should, thus, serve it's purpose in serving you. whether you are saving too much or spending too much, while you must honour and respect money, you must not place all your value on your wealth and material possessions. your relationship with money may be strongly affected by something in your life that from which you may be thinking of walking away. something that is deeply exhausting you. you may be wondering what would happen if you walk away, and what spirit wants you to know, is that, if you choose to do so, you will be much happier. walking away and taking some time to rest, to introspect and confront certain fears instead of pretending or ignoring them in the hopes that they disappear, will greatly help you with these issues. it may be the right moment to, for instance, look at yourself and ask yourself, how much is viewing yourself through your material wealth affecting the genuine happiness in your life?
now is not the time to overexert yourself, for financial gain most of all. it is the time to gather your strength and rest from how much you have exhausted yourself in attempting to attain the material unattainable. give your mind and body the break it needs in order to approach the new perspective on life and these issues that awaits you. because a new perspective does await you, and healing too, you just need to embrace the fear of confronting yourself first.
3. OLEANDERS, 1888
“for van gogh, oleanders were joyous, life-affirming flowers that bloomed "inexhaustibly" and were always "putting out strong new shoots."”
channeled song: “break my soul” by beyoncé
“and i'm on that new vibration i'm buildin' my own foundation · got motivation (motivation), i done found me a new foundation, yeah (new foundation), i'm takin' my new salvation (oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, new salvation)”
cards pulled: eight of swords, page of cups, seven of swords
hey there, group three ♡ i am seeing a lot of anxiety in your current situation. you may be feeling restricted, trapped and limited in your options; in this oppressive situation, be it physical or mental, in which you may not feel safe and protected and from which you can see no way out. you want to escape and find freedom and a new lease on life but you do not know how.
what may be difficult to hear, especially if you have been waiting and hoping for someone to come into your life and save you, is that the ability to save yourself lies within you. you and no one else. so many of these restrictions are self-imposed and motivated by the self-limiting mindset that you have adopted in the face of stress. this overthinking does not serve you. what will serve you right now is to confront this difficult situation or what is worrying you instead of ignoring it and hoping that it magically disappears, or that, somehow, you are magically saved from it.
you may be looking at your current situation and feeling drained of inspiration and motivation. you may have had a dream that has not yet been realised and that you have come to believe will never be realised. but do not give up. approach the dream differently if you must, but persist, because everything is possible right now for you. yes it might take freeing yourself from your current situation or mindset first, but do not let that demotivate you. you have endless potential to free yourself and achieve your dreams and your guides are looking after you as you go through all of this.
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