#ART HISTORY NERD FACT FOR YOU
Note
chai my uni was doing a poster sale and they had a poster of “the kiss” and it immediately made me think of ur rg version and i didn’t buy it at first cuz i didn’t need it but i thought abt it and your work for like two days straight and long story short it is now on my wall
you thought about my art... for two days straight...
BUT ALSO I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!! The Kiss is one of my favourite paintings, it's so pretty!!! i hope to see it in person one day cause watching the sunlight shimmer off all that gold leaf sounds truly magical.
#did u know that the painting was considered p/rnographic when it first debuted because of how close the figures were#and how intimate the gesture was#ART HISTORY NERD FACT FOR YOU#THAT YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR#ask#asks#anon#anono#wahhhhh this is so sweet#i hope u enjoy your new poster
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Impressionism
(masterlist) (taglist)
🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader
🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding
🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art?
🩸 wordcount: 12.3k
🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa
🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic
🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated!
🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting
‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.
While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.
And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?
It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too.
A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.
Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him.
There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.
They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response.
His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.
‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.
You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.
While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-
A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.
Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath.
“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”
“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.
“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt.
“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.
“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?
“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”
“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.
“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”
“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”
“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”
“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.
"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.
"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.
“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.
“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.
“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.
“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”
“Ah, I see-”
“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:
“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.
“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”
“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”
“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”
“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”
“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.
Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture.
You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers.
“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home.
Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.
“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”
“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.
“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger.
While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.
“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”
“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”
“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries.
“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.
“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”
“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.
A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.
“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”
“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.
“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting.
From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth.
“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”
“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.
“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”
“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”
“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story.
“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served.
A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring.
You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in.
“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass.
“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”
“Pardon?”
“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”
Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.
“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.
“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”
“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”
“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”
“Elusive, aren’t they?”
“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”
“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”
“Two of us who are searching?”
“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”
“Then we can keep searching together.”
While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.
Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him.
“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.
“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”
“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”
“There are private clinics?”
“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”
In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet.
“Ah, yes, I see-”
“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”
“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”
“Careful-”
“Sorry wha-”
With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.
“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.
“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”
“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”
“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.
“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.
“How so?”
“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore.
There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement.
‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.
Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.
You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.
“This really is a rainy day,”
“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it.
Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.
Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.
“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”
Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another.
With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin.
The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.
He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed.
“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:
“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.
The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one.
Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought.
“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”
“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.”
Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.
“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.
“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.
Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.
“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”
“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.
“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”
“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.
“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”
“...I’d like that.”
In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing at all.”
You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past.
“Pissarro.”
“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.
“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.
“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”
“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.
The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.
“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.
As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.
Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.
On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.
“I know. I can wait too.”
“Soon, my love.”
“I-I know.”
“I miss you.”
“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”
One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.
Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within.
You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.
“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.
“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”
“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”
“Seonghwa-”
“Work can wait, I just need to-”
“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.
“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.
You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.
Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.
“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:
“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”
“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”
“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”
“Shh-”
“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”
In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.
“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”
“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”
“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”
As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.
Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you.
“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”
“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine.
“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.
“What were you scared of?”
“Losing you again.”
“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”
Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own.
“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you.
The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?
“But they didn’t.”
No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports.
“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”
“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”
You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.
When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.
Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.
🩸 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy
#kflixnet#cromernet#k-labels#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa fluff#park seonghwa x reader#park seonghwa fluff#seonghwa x y/n#seonghwa x you#park seonghwa x you#park seonghwa x y/n#ateez fluff#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez au#ateez#kpop writers#kpop writing#park seonghwa#seonghwa#vampire!hwa#vampire!seonghwa#vampire seonghwa#vampire hwa
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akira himekawa are unbelievably cool.
soooo here's the thing. i was looking at akira himekawa's website on a whim and found a public blog, with posts that go all the way back to 2009. many hours of google translating later, and i've developed an even stronger admiration of these two women and their exceptional career as manga artists. they share so much in these posts about the creative process, their thoughts on social justice, their connections with nature, and their most major original story, gliding reki, which seems to have always been a passion project in the midst of commercial work.
from what i could gather, reki is unique in that they were determined to do it in full color. and they did it, because after reading about their career, it's clear to me that when these women set their mind to an idea, they make it happen. see also: they just recently produced and distributed their own art book, because no publishers were offering to do it in a way that pleased them.
their stated goals for reki were to make something more adult than their previous children's manga, taking place in a city, involving a lot of mechanical art, and featuring stronger romantic and self-described erotic subtext. good for them. before i get into the four swords-related stuff, i'm sharing what i could find on the internet about reki.
more under the cut, because there's quite a bit to discuss :)
not much that i could find on the blog specifically references four swords, but they have many fascinating insights about nintendo, the zelda fandom, and the franchise as a whole. i can't know for certain because this information was surmised from translated text, but it seems as if their manga with chibi link made them feel a little stifled, which is why they took a long break before returning to do twilight princess. it's not lost on me that even a work like four swords, which they may regard as not their favorite or best, still has inspired and brought together so many passionate, creative, and diverse people. this is especially sweet because it seems as if they met each other, and formed their creative partnership, because of a shared fandom interest of their own.
honda and nagano have shared their thoughts and feelings on this blog for more than a decade, and they have a lot of thoughts and feelings. throughout their entire career they've made commentary on work-life balance, their experiences as women in a male-dominated field, and their desire to create original art while simultaneously enjoying some commercial work as well. they are passionate about social justice, particularly re: women and indigenous people, and offer insights on aspects of culture and history and the state of the world that really could resonate with anyone. and they really seem to appreciate fans of their work, and emphasize repeatedly the care and thought they put into their manga in the hopes it will inspire and bring catharsis to readers. they love animals (especially wolves), being outside in nature, being nerds about art they enjoy, a certain subgenre of romantic manga that appealed to and empowered female readers in the 90's and 2000's, and traveling around the world to partake in activities like horse riding and falconry.
the coolest part is, they're still updating the blog to this day :) in fact they seem to have recently returned to it, reflecting that twitter is not their preferred manner of sharing things online. they seem very familiar with and fond of older-school blogging culture.
there's a lot more i could say here about my findings, some of which do pertain to... certain ships 💜🖤 . but i don't want my genuine appreciation for these authors to be overshadowed by that kind of conversation. in addition to a link to the blog itself, i'm including a few translated posts of interests, which you can interpret and incorporate into your perception of the media however you please. at the end of the day, it's a really cool gift that these artists have chosen to share so much over such a long period of time. by making their personalities, beliefs, and insights more visible to fans of their work, i hope it brings new context to the stories we already love.
a modern-day insight:
re: the zelda mangas. these are from several points throughout their career. please note that they have so many fond things to say about zelda as a franchise and their work on the mangas, especially regarding the way they've affected fans. i encourage you to look for yourself, on their blog and their other socials!
re: gliding reki
re: the creative process (and in the latter two, the fandom that seems to have inspired them!)
re: their two goofyass adorable tiny dogs that they dress up in outfits while also loving wolves like a lot, they love wolves (both domesticated and wild), they really love wolves
re: wolf day (every day is wolf day,)
re: indigenous rights
re: painting serious works on commission vs their manga. i can't know for sure exactly what it means, but it really does kinda hit
re: a fan and manga artist in training bringing them art and a note
and a moment from a twilight princess manga interview i found very sweet :)
okay. you've made it to the end. i know you're wondering. here you go. please remember that this is and always has been a public blog, and these posts are actually from 2009 and 2010. also please remember that the point of this post is not to cause or fuel fandom discourse, but to appreciate these authors and the things that they choose to express.
(also, this is the column they were referring to in image 1. it's FASCINATING. give it a read if you'd like!)
the dots are there. you're welcome to connect them.
thank you for your beautiful work and insights, honda and nagano. please never change.
#akira himekawa#four swords manga#legend of zelda#four swords#loz#twilight princess manga#(yes there is v/dow stuff at the very bottom okay it's there just please read the rest)
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Random details on Amaryllis as my Tav and my BG3 playthrough with her:
🌸 she's romancing Astarion, and has no idea. She just thinks he's neat. He thinks she's an insane, weird, bleeding heart, yet somehow that's getting to him. (It was the embroidered art of him). I imagine he falls for her first, and he has no idea what to do about it bc none of his experience works for her. That said, she's going to eventually return his feelings and be a lot more awkward/shy when she does
🌸 she and Gale are nerd buddies who talk for hours and hours about nerdy magical shit, or history stuff, or gods and goddesses, whatever can be found in a book. Probably end up discussing how to send a bear flying at mach speed with stackings of haste and other magical items
🌸 Amy likes Shadowheart and wants to braid Shadowheart's favorite flowers into her hair and have a like a spa day together
🌸 Karlach and Lae'zel both, ah, very bluntly propositioned her and spooked Amy senseless (this is what happens when you have a demi-sexual n demi-romantic OC who gets aggressively flirted with)
🌸 Amy has decided to run, hide, and avoid them for a while bc of this. I imagine when Karlach specifically propositioned Amy at her bedroll, Amy was so startled she immediately started rolling away and right over the campfire, completely ignoring the fact that she was now on fire. (She just misty stepped away from Lae'zel)
🌸 (i imagine Amy ran to Astarion after this, wide eyed and frazzled and going "HELP" lol and after, they hung out in the woods doing embroidery to relax, while Astarion mused on how it's probably a good thing she didn't realize he tried propositioning her too, or else she might have been scared away. Also him musing on how she enjoys spending time with him enough that she'd rather just embroider stuff with him than have casual sex with people)
🌸 Despite that, she does genuinely like Lae'zel and Karlach a lot, and enjoys sparring with both, and making cute plushies with Karlach
🌸 Amy thinks Wyll is kinda silly and goofy, but earnest. She thinks his horns are funny and wants to make decorations for them
🌸 Halsin deeply reminds her of one of her dads (who, coincidentally, was also an 8ft tall, beefy, middle aged nature loving elf)
Speaking of-
One way I'm viewing the playthrough is that Amaryllis from her main campaign got bonked on the head into a coma and got isekai'd, with amnesia, into the game story
A lot of the characters are hilariously very similar to characters she knew in her OG campaign
I think those initial similarities are what drew Amy to everyone, and they're why she was so immediately comfortable around people that she should have probably been more wary of (Astarion), but as time passes that all fades as she gets to know everyone more personally
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hi orla! i hope you have a good day💗 love your writing soooo much :3<3
do you think König intrigued in history, biology, chemistry, physics, or even mathematics? but i always think he likes history and mathematics. as for history, he lovesss to info dumping you about Austria!:< as for math, i thought he's gonna gives you some questions for you to work on. If you answer successfully, you get a special treats!<3 but if you not, of course you will get punished! mmhh guess spank your ass or fucked you dumb? :3
absolutely !! i talk about this often on my blog when talking about headcannons for my beloved, fictional husband.
könig is 100% a science person. it comes to him so naturally. since he's a naturally smart person, he doesn't understand how you can be so dense and stupid at times... he adored physics, it was his favourite subject, alongside chemistry and mathematics (*´ω｀*) he was judged by his peers for focusing on these subjects, but honestly, they'd judge him for anything...
he can do long, math sums in his head — it's his own magic trick. you could ask him something extremely complicated, and he'd have the answer. he's a bookworm, and has plenty of science books laying around in his library/office. he's always reading something, with the hopes of reading to you, instead of all by himself.
that nerd can list the periodic table easily, by memory.
although könig is a science person, he's not interested in biology. he doesn't find any interest or enjoyment in subjects like art, biology, or geography. he's interested in history, science, and maths. he'll rant to you about the history of countries, or talk to you about wars, nuclear weapons, and random facts about austria.
he'll quiz you on these, and whenever you get something incorrect, your tight rear is spanked and slapped, until you're panting and huffing... (╥﹏╥)
#orla speaks#könig cod#könig call of duty#konig x you#konig x reader#konig mw2#konig modern warfare#konig mwii
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Hot Chocolate (Marcus Pike x gn!reader)
A Merry Fic-Mas - December 3
Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, turn on notifications for my posts.
Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader
Rating: Mature
Word count: 1280 words
Warnings: Implied smut, some heavy making out, Marcus being an adorable foodie romantic art nerd, fluff city. No use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of Reader whatsoever.
Summary: Snowed in and forced to stay over at your colleague’s Georgetown apartment, Marcus whips up a sweet treat to keep you warm.
“I don’t have much by way of dessert,” Marcus muses from the kitchen, where he’s peering into his fridge.
You finish gathering the last of the takeout boxes from his dining table and begin cleaning them out at the sink. “You’ve given me a room for the night, Marcus, I don’t need dessert. Hey, where’s your recycling bin?”
He gestures to a cupboard near the sink and leans back on the counter, thinking. “Actually, would you like some hot chocolate? I think I’ve got everything I need.”
Everything he needs?, you think, wondering what more you could possibly need for hot chocolate beyond some powdered mix and milk. Marshmallows, if you were feeling fancy.
“Sure, sounds good to me.”
He grins in delight and starts rummaging in a cupboard, emerging with bars of dark chocolate and a jar of ground cinnamon, before delving into the fridge and retrieving milk and heavy cream. A heavy-bottomed saucepan is produced and positioned on the hob as Marcus mutters something about finding his grater.
This isn’t going to be cheap-ass powdered mix, is it.
Alright, full disclosure: if someone hooked you up to a polygraph machine and asked you if you had a teeny tiny harmless little workplace crush on Marcus Pike, you’d have to answer in the affirmative.
And who wouldn’t? He was kind and funny, and smart as hell, quietly undertaking a PhD in art history and cultural policy at Georgetown while continuing to work full-time. He was one of the few people in the team who actually kept up with the art world, regularly seeking you out after a new show opened at the National Gallery to exchange your thoughts on it over coffee in the canteen.
The fact that he was also really cute didn’t hurt, either.
When snow and ice blocked the routes out of DC back to your place in Alexandria, leaving you stranded, Marcus immediately suggested that you stay over at his place. See? Kind.
“I’ll be fine, Marcus, really,” you’d protested, searching for hotel rooms in the city and recoiling when you saw the prices - and the lack of options. “Anyway, isn’t your place a one-bed?”
Marcus shrugged. “I’ve got a big couch, spare blankets and pillows, and I won’t stand by and see you hunkering down here for the night. C’mon. We’ll get takeout - I know a great little Korean place.”
He carefully grates the dark chocolate into a bowl while you whisk most of the cream.
“Y’know, I really thought you were going to pull out a couple of sachets of Swiss Miss? I should have known better.”
Marcus chuckles to himself and checks the saucepan of milk. “Usually I’m a Swiss Miss kinda guy, I have to admit. But when you have guests, you do the Viennese hot chocolate. I like to make a fuss.”
You hold out the bowl of cream for him to inspect and he nods, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. You put it down and fold your arms as you watch him work.
“Is it really Viennese, or is that just a name they use to make it sound all fancy?”
He laughs and looks at you in mock horror. “Of course it’s really Viennese! I even had it for the first time in Vienna.” Marcus takes the saucepan off the heat and adds the chocolate along with some sugar, a little cinnamon, and a dash of heavy cream. He begins to whisk the mixture carefully.
“It was one summer when I was a student - I had almost no money, but I did have one of those European Interrail tickets and I tried to see as much great art as I could. Took an overnight train to Vienna to see the Klimts at the Belvedere.” He pauses his whisking to assess the texture, then resumes.
“Like I said, I was down to my last few dollars - or Euros, or whatever the currency was at the time - but the one thing I was gonna do besides see the Klimts was go to a real Viennese café.”
The hot chocolate is frothy now, thick and glossy. Marcus nods in the direction of a cupboard and you open it, finding some mugs.
“So I’m guessing you got to a café.”
He turns off the stove and smiles at the memory. “Sure did. Café Central. It was like something out of a Stefan Zweig novel.” He takes a ladle out of a drawer and proceeds to fill the mugs with the steaming chocolate. “And I had a mug of something a bit like this - but much, much better - and a slice of apple strudel, and it was heaven.”
Marcus finishes off the chocolate by placing a large dollop of whipped cream in each mug, and hands one to you.
“This is…incredible. I don’t think I can ever go back to Swiss Miss.”
Marcus chuckles and sips his chocolate, sitting beside you on the couch. “I’m glad you like it. Perfect drink for a snowed-in night.”
You take another deep draught of the delicious, smooth drink and hum happily to yourself. “And I’m checking out flights to Vienna first chance I get.”
He looks at you intently. “Uh, you’ve… uh…”
You can see a giggle rising in his chest. He can’t suppress it, and he laughs out loud.
“Why is the thought of me going to Vienna so funny to you?”
Marcus’s expression shifts to one of concern and he quickly shakes his head. “No, that sounds wonderful - you’ll love it - it’s just…” He reaches over and gently rubs the tip of your nose with his thumb, removing a large blob of whipped cream. “You had a little, uh, something.”
“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry.” You look down into your mug, a little embarrassed, but try to lighten the mood. “Feels like we’re in a scene from a cheesy holiday movie, y’know?”
He quirks his head. “How so?”
“Oh, you know. The whole ‘one character has whipped cream or something on their face and the other has to swipe it away and then…’”
You stop short, realising what you were about to say - and becoming very aware of just how close you are to him now.
Marcus’s voice is warm and low. “And then?”
Is he moving closer?
“And then… um. And then they usually, uh…”
He finishes your sentence by leaning in and kissing you, softly, gently at first. Your breath hitches as you feel the softness of his lips on yours.
He breaks away for a second, staying close. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, it’s…it’s great.”
He takes your mug and puts it on the coffee table before cradling your face in his big hands and leaning in to kiss you again: a little harder, now, his tongue seeking entry to your mouth as your hands reach for his body and you lean back on the couch.
You moan and whine with pleasure as you feel Marcus’s hands caressing your body, taste the bittersweetness of the chocolate on his lips and tongue. As he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and licking his way along the sensitive skin, you begin to unbutton his shirt and reach for his belt buckle.
“Marcus?”
He looks up for an instant, hair tousled and eyes as deep and dark and shiny as perfect hot chocolate.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight. You’re keeping me warm in bed.”
Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
#a merry fic-mas#holiday fic calendar#marcus pike#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x gn!reader#marcus pike x you#marcus pike fluff#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal
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What are you favourite Regina Headcanons??
i had this whole thing written down in my phone as an answer to this very question and i can’t find it :( it’s a good thing regina lives in my head rent free all the time lol
she’s a total nerd and can absorbe new info pretty quickly. and i’m not just talking about books, history, etc. i’m talking movies and video games, music and art. she’s like an informational sponge. she can tell you ten random shark facts and then go into an entire discussion about the secret to beating space invaders. she listens to classical, alternative, rock, pop. any genre, she doesn’t care. she knows like five languages and picks things up easily enough that she can probably make it in any non-english speaking country. she’s just…constantly learning. she likes anything that can take her away from her mind/this world and she finds learning and experiencing new things does that for her
and speaking of learning new things, she knows how to play the piano and the violin. though she plays the piano more often
one of the drawers in her office desk has a little bowl of candy in it that she keeps stocked. henry’s known about it since he was about 12, emma found out shortly after she and regina started dating, and eventually, the entire family knows and will sneak a piece or two when they visit her at work
she doesn’t sleep much. nightmares are still a recurring problem for her and night is when her thoughts are the loudest. it gets a little better when emma starts spending the night, but obviously those kinds of issues don’t go away just because you love someone. emma helps because she comforts her and there’s someone there to keep her company when she can’t sleep (emma doesn’t sleep much either)
she has more scars than just the one on her lip, but she hides them with magic
she wears contacts during the day but when she reads at night, she wears glasses
as she gets more and more comfortable being herself, she starts to dress a bit more casual. i mean, she’s still regina. so she goes all out no matter what kind of clothes she’s wearing. but she eventually lets herself wear jeans and shirts around the house and is ultimately comfortable one day with being out and about in Storybrooke without being super dressed up
she said for years that she drank her coffee black but that’s a lie. she likes it with milk and sugar. snow feels betrayed when she finds this out
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Mind telling us how the dynamics of duos within teen Sector V are? Like 1/2, 3/4, 2/5, 1/3, 2/4 and so on lol. Just to get to know them and how they are as teens a bit better!
AHHHH SO!!!
There's a lot to say here, so I'll start with Nigel and go on until everything is explained??
Before reading, I don't want hate or anything plz, this is what works for this AU but I pretty much can ship anyone with anyone!
Let's go!
#1/#2
Nigel and Hoagie like to work in tandem on new 2x4 tech for teen operatives to use. Hoagie has the ideas, Nigel refines them (and avoids Hoagie from making them too dangerous or unstable) and they build them together. Nigel hasn't always been one for manual work but lately he found out it helps him not to think too much.
And Hoagie's more than happy to help "Big Boss" relax!
---
#1/#3
Kuki is Nigel's personal ray of sunshine (that's also why the whole school calls her that). She helps him to cheer up and see life in a different way, a more colorful and positive one. They don't even have to talk, Nigel just needs to sit next to her and plop his head on her shoulder and she knows it's time to work her magic on him!
Also she somehow convinced him to have her test her "make up skills" on him. Don't ask why, that's how they roll.
AND! Kuki's been in charge of taking care of Nigel's rainbow monkey plush since he left for GKND.
---
#1/#4
Because of something that happen to Wally years before (which, don't ask, none of them want to talk about it), these two are now really close. Especially Wally found a good friend he can talk to when life gets too hard on him, he knows Nigel will be more than happy to listen to him go off without judging or forcing a solution on him. Basically Nigel KNOWS the root of all of Wally's problems and understands his feelings. They don't like to show how close they are around, but if they find each other alone, it's feeling time.
---
#1/#5
They know EVERYTHING about EVERYONE around the school, no one is safe, not even professors or the principal himself. They could crush everyone in one move... but choose not too because were would the fun be?
Sill best friends, if you didn't know their history you could easily mistake them for a couple. Well, they are in fact planning their wedding, been doing that for 2 years now, but it always gets delayed because one of them changes his mind about a minor detail.
Do they even argue? Are they actually together?? What is going on???
Only they know.
---
#2/#3
Just a quick note: Numbuh 6 is still there and they still keep an eye on him, but he's been moved to another sector when they all turned 13. Because of his love for anime and manga, Hoagie is actually learning Japanese with her, because he thinks it would be cool to be able to watch anime without subtitles or worse, the... dub... EWW!
Also they like to watch stuff together that Wally refuses to because it has romance in it, like Toradora! or even Sword Art Online.
---
#2/#4
Best friends forever. Kinda gay, but not all the way? Like IRL JD and Turk basically. They're so into anime and manga and videogames, they're NERDS but Wally usually hides it around people, Hoagie can't be bothered and you can spot him reading some manga no one even knew existed. They have a lot of inside jokes not even the others understand, especially the "chicken" one they've been keep going since they were 7.
Also, they're meme masters.
---
#2/#5
How the heck are they even dating? Like, he's an OTAKU and she's the QUEEN of the school??? But it works apparently, and everyone is jealous and MAD at Hoagie because really, he's one of the LAMEST LOSERS in the school, just... how... WHY??
No one knows. But them. He makes her laugh and she keeps him with his feet on the ground. Been going for *looks at smudged note on the hand* 7 YEARS????
---
#3/#4
A ray of sunshine and the prince of darkness. Happiness and rage, rainbow and clouds, colorful and black. They seem like opposite worlds colliding, but the whole school knows they're dating now. Took a bit of time tbh, it has its ups and downs, but they look happy together, so, what else could they want? 2 years down, their whole life to go.
---
#3/#5
They have the love for make-up and fashion in common. Kuki likes to test her make-up skills on Abby, who's more than willing to let her go for it because she's actually good! They like to hang out at the mall, sometimes they drag Nigel with them for reasons (the boy needs some good clothes).
---
#4/#5
If Nigel's the one Wally can go to without expecting judging or answers, Abby's the one who can give Wally a solution for a problem he has. She loves the boy, wants all the best for him, it's just that sometimes... he's... really something to work with.
Actually turns out these two are the best ones to put on a mission together. They know how to work things out.
---
Sorry I have no energy to do all the drawings for all dynamics, so I did the ones that inspired me the most.
Hope you liked it!
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Hi! Do you have any TWST friendship headcanons about the dormheads? They are definetely a chaotic friend group!
Also love your art! It's so pretty!!
OH ABSOLUTELY.
First of all, Thank you so much!! THat makes me so happy to hear ;;v;;
ONTO SHENANIGANS:
A LOT if not pretty much all of this falls into non-canon-compliant territory, and I'm only partway through Book 5 so I could either totally guess soimething or completely mess something up, but here are my braincells
Vil and Leona:
I LOVE these two. I think they have some of the most fantastic worstie to bestie potential. And in a weird way??? I think Vil is the kind of person Leona needs?
Like, Vil can be a little too harsh, and in my personal opinion too much of a perfectionist (Not for the character tho, just if he was a real person xD As a character trait its 10/10 good writing) but the fact that he refuses to stop seeing the potential in Leona??? Thats something that I really think Leona NEEDS. People who are like "What are you talking about? You have the possibility to be so much if you just tried." Like that last part is harsh yeah, but I think Vil really has this... he has this Rook-like ability to believe in the potential of other people in a way that isn't actually as cynical as it comes across. If he learned to work more with Leona than against him, I actually think the two of them would have such a strong power duo potential.
Leona needs to see Vil for the Roses rather than the Thorns. He needs to see more of what Vil is SAYING, where he's coming from rather than just the words themselves. I think if Leona really comprehended how much Vil believed in him, like, ACTUALLY believed in him, i think he would be genuinely moved, genuinely shook and full of wonder that somebody saw so much potential in him, as so much more than being a failure or a freak.
However I think if they actually became friends Epel might have to take a week off for mourning because he could no longer go to Leona to escape the wrath of Vil xD
Idia and Malleus:
Okay so starsending started me on this one, I think they would actually really vibe. Idia is an introverted Loner, he has a hard time with high energy people who make a lot of noise. Mallues CAN be a lot, but honestly he tends to... not be. Its more like the A Lot follows him. ei when he interacts with Yuu and essentially just ends up being a nerd. The specific image i've had in my head, is i feel like Idia could play animal crossing with Malleus watching him, and the two of them could vibe for H O U R S. Malleus would make the occasional comment or go on the occasional tangent, but he seems less like he needs people to engage with him sometimes, and sometimes just like he needs people to listen. And Idia isn't actually that bad at engaging with people!! He's got internet friends (lilia lol) which means he does know something about sustaining relationships and talking to people
I also think that Malleus would probably find Idia's way of talking fascinating SLDFKJSDLGJSLDJG. As long as he wasn't mocked for not understanding, he'd probably find it downright interesting to listen to Idia explain internet memes from 2010 and talk about the history of Loss.
I also think that Idia could really be a safe and quiet spot for malleus when things are hard. I feel like part of Malleus's frustrations, and why we see him run away from Sebek and Silver, despite both of them being family he obviously loves, is that, with the exception of Lilia, Both of them make a BIG DEAL out of things. Silver tends to be quieter and less explosive, but they both do. Sometimes I think Malleus just wants to be alone to process, or not be pestered or questioned. I think Idia could potentially be that safe and quiet spot where he's ready to listen, but not necessarily interested in making a big deal about it. If they became better friends he might not even ask, just offer quiet empathy.
Kalim and Leona:
-Spoilers for Leona's Union bday card, since it hasn't released in English yet-
OH BOY.... THESE TWO.
First of all!!! ANother relationship that I think could do a lot of good for Leona??? Kalim doesn't really need him for anything, but he's a well of low expectation positivity, somebody who I can see dragging Leona out to do things, or even just, once in a while so honestly state the worth he sees in Leona that it causes Leona to stutter and pause.
Like, Leona's union bday card mentioning that he'd have Kalim with him on a deserted Island cause people would come ot rescue Kalim....... O U CH???????
There's a running Narrative that Kalim doesn't really see the value in himself, and this would be another person (like Azul) who would contradict that. Leona sees a more cynical version of his value, but its still value all the same. And Leona likes to gripe and groan, but he's adopted like, half the characters who are younger than him, I don't think he's immune to Kalim Al-Asim at ALL.
It doesn't help that Leona is already a Tsunderely doting uncle, I can see Kalim triggering the Uncle-Instincts in him sometimes... or a lot. The loud and upbeat disposition Similar to Cheka's wouldn't help.
Specifically, because I've thought about these two being friends before, I've always loved this idea of a post book 4 sequence where Kalim like, kind wanders into the greenhouse to find somewhere to cry privately, but he runs into leona napping. Leona doesn't really want to deal with Kalim, so while he's blubbering through his explanation he's just like "Fine you can chill here as long as you're quiet"
Kalim accepts... but Leona has beastman hearing, so even what might be considered reasonably quiet is loud to him, and he eventually caves and asks whats up. Just to get Kalim to shut up eventually.
I think maybe I had a conclusion or an idea for what advice leona would give kalim, but I don't remember it at the moment, but yeah just. Them :) I think their dynamic could be really interesting.
Malleus and Leona:
So ya'll who saw my whumptobers already know I have some bad braincells for these two clowns. I think they are jealous of each other, because they think the other has what they want, they think that they see the other squandering the gifts they've been given, being fools and idiots who don't appreciate what they have.
Leona craves being accepted, having the crown, having the power to fix what he sees that is wrong, to actually have and impact in people's lives, to matter and to fit in.
Malleus craves normality, he craves to be one of the masses, just another man among many, he doesn't wish for power, and he cares little for the catastrophic effect he can have on other people, he just wants to be invited. He just wants to be included.
Leona sees Malleus as having the power to do what matters.
Malleus sees Leona as having the gift of Normality and camaraderie.
Ultimately they're both miserable where they're at (though not entirely. Leona loves his squad, Malleus loves his family, both of them have things they'd never dare give up.) and they think if they just had what the other had, they would achieve the things they deserve and desire.
I think both of them would have to sort through a LOT of emotions if it ever clicked for them just how similar they are. They're of course seeing each other through rose colored glasses. Leona is not an everyman, he's feared by his own family, Malleus is not all powerful, he cannot stop the tick of death. Leona is persecuted for being "less than" his brother, Malleus is held so far above everybody else he can't be reached. This would take some time for both of them to process, but I think once they did there would be a chance for them to become good allies, and potentially even really good friends.
THose are my main braincells!! I honestly think that making any of the dorm leaders interact is fantastic food for thought and relationship building. I would love to think over what it'd be like to grow a friendship between Azul and Riddle, or Vil and Malleus. Leona and Azul would be INCREDIBLE and fascinating!!! Like man, there's so much to work with in TWST.
I realized this might be a little to the left of your question ^^;; Haha, If you were asking about more like, I guess lighearted headcanons, I'm not sure I have any yet!! But I'm sure with time I totally could :) Writing or playing with TWST characters intimidated me for a bit there, since the quality of the writing of the game was SO GOOD I felt there was no way I could do it justice.
Now I feel a lot less intimidated, so i feel like I'm more likely to dig my hands into shenanigans and thoughts.
#isa screams#anonymous#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland book 4 spoilers#twst leona#twst malleus#twst idia#twst vil#twst kalim#leona kingscholar#kalim al-asim#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#malleus draconia#these boys can fit so many complex relationships in them#saluting my friends for telling me that horrible information about (leona Union Bday card spoilers) leona forgetting that#he is royalty and would be saved. because he feels so devalued as a prince.#that he thinks he needs an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT PRINCE#for people to care enough to save him :(#also for telling me that Leona adopts like. all of the freshman and i think some of the sophmores slowly throughout the story dflajsdflkSJD#leona is not capable of not going 'oh a little guy' send tweet WHEEZE#i desperately crave idia and malleus playing animal crossing for hours on end#doing nothing but chilling and chatting about silly and lighthearted things#Vil 'say something that doesn't sound like its antagonistic' challenge 2023#TBF he's doing it on purpose most of the time cause he doesn't like mincing words or wasting time so.#and sometimes he has a point xD#Leona also intentionally pokes him so honestly what does he think will happen asdlfkjSDLKFJSDGLJSDG#Leona and Malleus 'deal with your emotional constipation' challenge 2023
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OH WAIT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ALSO ASK BTW IF YOU HAVE ANY HEADCANONS ON CAMERON OR GWEN
Imma just gonna start with Cam first, and let me just tell you Cameron I projected the most on because even after my "ihatehim no ilovehim" phase so idk maybe some of this could be out of character srry.
I imagine Cameron is south African, particularly Zimbabwean.
His a walking nerd emoji.
The only pass time Cam had was to draw bugs. So he's REALLY GOOD at drawing bugs. Only bugs. Everything else looks like it's from the diary of a wimpy kid.
Cam not that keen of physical touch but slowly getting used to it cuz of Mike. Mike also trying to remember that everyone is open on surprise hugs.
Idk why but with Zoey and Cam's relationship I just think of Carly and Freddie but without the crush.
Gwen and Cam would have art trades together.
Cam got the dryess hands in existence because of the amount of hand sanitizer he uses. OCD GAND RISE UP!
Im saying this now but Cam and B would TOTALLY VIBE TOGETHER!! i just don't know their intentions are yet so dont ask..
Lightning and Cam would have hangout if not for the cheating thing.
Duncan once asked Cam if he can draw a mural of his pet spider Scruffy.
Sam would take it as his personal duty to teach Cam in the way of being a gamer. By teaching him the Zelda timeline and the lore of FNAF. May god rest Cam soul after that.
Cam doesn't not do well with the more active people in Mike's system like Svetlana and Manitoba. They try to be gentle with him but they just don't know their strengths and Manitoba canonically eats dirt so there's only so much they can hangout.
Vito doesn't vibe with nerds but he does occasional try to back him up if he's getting bullied. ONLY if Vito himself isn't bullying Cam.
Cameron actually has the best relationship with Chester. He loves hearing history and old facts and Chester loves the excuse to chat someone's ears off.
Mal and Cam have more of a neutral relationship with each other but I can definitely see Mal thinking his just some weakling nerd until Cam shows him he knows how to make the Demon core.
Cam and Mike started a hate Scott club. Although Cam feels alil bad about, he tends to be reminded of why they started this club every time they go back to their cabin.
Cam once witnessed Scott use the bathroom without washing his hands. And never liked him since.
There was one time between season, Mike, Cam and Zoey were going on a little road trip. Z & M both ask what song should they play next? Cam said he doesn't know any songs so maybe just play the Ice cream truck theme. And that's when they find out HOW sheltered this boy is.
I would get into the nitty gritty but Cam's mom is NOT a good mom. Zoey and Mike have beef with her (Zoey trys to have the benefit of the doubt and said she just too over protective while Mike legit DONT like her.)
They both make sure that Cam gets as much outside time as possible and learn to have a life outside of his house.
When Cam goes to college is going aboard as an entomologist.
When Cameron first came on TD he didn't know what to wear because obviously he's never been outside so it a mixture of hot and cold clothes. Bro don't know fashion but it's his outfit changes in All Stars.
He's wearing a puffer jacket because it reminds him of a sleeping bag and makes him cozy + it has a cooling system inside thanks to B.
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So yeah, about the ask you had unclear what I was refering: yes I meant what kind of personalities is bill attracted to.
Had to wait a couple days to answer this until I had time to dig up and review the original post about what he's attracted to; and honestly, I think it already covers almost everything. Take out the physical traits and you get:
Weirdos. Being weird, in and of itself, is attractive to him. Gotta be a high quantity of weirdness though.
"Brooding artist" types (his description). Mostly if they make art of him, but even that aside he likes people who view the world around them like an artist. Brooding optional but "thinking deeply & romantically about the world" mandatory.
People who have fun by Bill's definition of "fun": party hard and live to tell the tale. Reckless eagerness to jump headlong into danger a plus.
Similarity to him. This might mean a similar history but it could mean similar personalities. Bill's personality is shaped by his history, so why wouldn't someone else's be.
Extravagance with material possessions. That might mean their love language is gift-giving, or it might mean they go broke spending everything they have on luxury and thrilling experiences. Live loudly, enthusiastically, generously, and with little heed for future consequences.
Nerds, provided they have something else going for them besides just being nerdy. More broadly: intellectual curiosity and a functioning brain.
I think that one's worth elaborating on, since it gets into Bill's psychology. Bill's a trillion years old; knows more about practically anything than practically anybody; has seen whole worlds rise and fall, along with all their civilizations, cultures, discoveries, inventions, and people, over and over again; and by now, he passes vast swathes of eternity by partying/dissociating for longer than the human species has even existed. Even though he never really quite grew up, he's still old and tired and bored.
But there's still wonder out in the multiverse—wonder in things he's seen billions of times, wonder in things that are just slightly different from the other billion he's already seen, wonder in looking at something he's seen before in a brand new way. He knows it's there, he's just gotten too depressed and lazy to go looking for it.
Merely knowing stuff doesn't impress him—he can "know stuff" in circles around any mortal and most immortals—but excitement and enthusiasm for knowing stuff gets him to wake up a little to the world around him, which is something he sorely needs.
But again: they've gotta have other things going for them. If he runs into a nerd who's just nerdy and doesn't otherwise bring anything else to the table that Bill's into, he's just like "ugh what's this geek droning on about this time, go away."
And these other traits off the original list aren't quite things he's "attracted" to, but that makes him more likely to pursue someone anyway:
If somebody's an emotional doormat who'll do anything he says and let him take the lead in all matters, he's more likely to date them. And also, exploit them, use them, abuse them, and leave them. He's not actually attracted to doormats, though—it's kind of a turn-off, really, he finds people with a spine more interesting—but people with a spine are more likely to stand up for themselves, which makes it harder for Bill to get away with all the shit he wants to pull; so ultimately he's more likely to pursue somebody he likes less but can control more.
I don't think he's really "attracted" to people who worship him—the more of a zealous follower someone is, the less likely they are to be an interesting person all by themself, really. But like. It's an insane turn on. Biggest turn on. Call him your god and his brain shuts off and he gets a little light headed as all his whatever-he-has-instead-of-blood immediately rushes to his wherever-the-hell-blood-gets-redirected-to-in-his-species. When he's that into being worshiped, I think the fact that he isn't technically into the person doing the worshiping is kind of a moot point. So he's not exactly attracted to people with a tendency toward obsessive devotion; but he's had a disproportionate number of partners who have that personality trait, since that makes them more likely to be obsessively devoted to him.
All of the above is off of the original "stuff he's attracted to" list. I can't think of many personality traits he's drawn to that aren't already covered. Extroversion, optimism, maybe similar "screw the laws of physics" political opinions, maybe a tendency to re-sculpt the truth in the same way he does... Yeah, that's all I got, I already hit most of the points in the initial ask.
I realize these are "personality traits he's attracted to" instead of "personalities he's attracted to," but a personality is just a soup made up of various traits. I'm not gonna go like "oh yeah he's attracted to ESTJs" or something. Grab multiple of the above traits and slap them on the same person and that's appealing to him.
#(off the top of my head i don't even remember what ESTJs are like. that was just a random example.)#anonymous#ask#about my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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The Pompeii exhibit at the MSI, as with many temporary exhibits there, is split across two galleries. I like how they handled that this time; the first half presents artworks and artifacts recovered from Pompeii, and uses them to teach about ancient Roman life. I studied classical fresco and mosaic arts in grad school, so I got to see some stuff in person that I’d only ever seen before in books. The mosaic of the anchor, for example, has never left Italy before.
The winged-phallus windchime I’d seen before but also not in person, and I was very amused by the fact that it was off in a niche with a warning sign about artifacts of an adult nature. Which was mostly a lot of dicks, and a couple of (I thought) tasteful frescoes of people having sex or looking like they’d like to. I also wrote a paper on the penis as a magical amulet in classical history in grad school, so I was delighted by all the penis amulets I got to see. A hundred years ago you had to Know A Guy At The British Museum to get a look at stuff like this.
The last image comes from the more serious second half of the exhibit, which I have another post queued about, but I thought one of the cooler elements they introduced was the screen showing a gladiatorial fight, with the two smaller screens showing images of the fighters. I love that they basically gave this gladiator a D&D character stat set.
There were some aspects of the exhibit I didn’t love -- some scientific/historic exhibits in the past ten years have made heavy use of video, which I don’t hate intrinsically, but a lot of the time there will be several video exhibits in one room. It’s extremely unpleasant to try and watch one -- or even look at non-video exhibits -- when three separate video narrations are audible at once. I had planned to leave my headphones off, because I’ve realized that I’m rarely in public without my headphones in and that might be contributing to a certain level of alienation, but I had to get them out of my pocket and put them back in because at least I could pump the volume on my playlist and only hear Robbie Williams instead of three separate people pontificating about ancient history.
But overall as a Roman history and an art history nerd I very much enjoyed the exhibit, and I might go again before it closes.
[ID: Four photos; the first shows the entry atrium to the exhibit, a pair of old-fashioned wooden doors above which is a video screen with the title “One Day In Pompeii” waiting to show us an introductory film. Middle left, a mosaic showing an anchor, two swimming men, and two dolphins or whales, is mounted on a wall; middle right is a windchime made of a bronze winged penis-creature with a penis-shaped tail, each of its limbs clutching a chain that holds a small bell. Bottom, a large video screen with two glass panels in front of it; the screen shows a shield and sword in a gladiatorial arena, while the panels show the warrior on the right and his “stats” and name, Murmillo, on the left.]
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Holy fuck Johnshi history nerds scratches my brain so damn much i NEED to hear what types of history they delve into
I unfortunately don't know too much about Kenshi but my guy just gives the vibes of knowing the historical events and people that coincide with the Heroes and The Last Stand album by Sabaton (like the Battle of Shiroyama, Bull Allen, all that lovely stuff)
Johnny however is definitely a movie nerd. Whether it comes to the movies plots, how they're made, the special effects, actors or any of that it feels like he's research them to hell and just ramble to Kenshi while the two were watching said movies (especially if they're watching a movie that Johnny himself is in)
And I will gladly tell you. These two have so much information in their brains, they rival a library. And Johnny will 100% research every bit he could on a film just to tell Kenshi. They end up not even watching, just Johnny spewing facts.
Ok now what nerds they are:
☯︎ Johnny does have extensive knowledge on films, he has so many books of film history. He knows the evolution of the camera and how each works, the different eras (German expressionism, Solviet Montage, French cinema), about matte paintings, the introduction of horror. He loves film history.
He also loves cultural history, such as Sento and the Taira Clan. He loves reading into different counties and digging into bits of historical records that most don’t know about. He loves ancient Asia, loves reading about the origins of martial arts, about wars and weapons. But also clothing, food, entertainment, social status.
Johnny lives for art history.
☯︎ Kenshi is a psychohistory nerd. He loves to ask “why” likes to try and figure out what caused this action or behavior in history. Such as why WW1 veterans where treated as if they were crazy instead of being provided help with the ptsd.
He also knows a little too much about medicine history. He unsettles himself with the knowledge that he has. But he eats it up. History of the Lobotomy, disturbing, but that doesn’t stop him. One that he finds funny is “female hysteria cures” because how did some write this down with a straight face? Especially the ancient Greeks and their belief that the womb was a separate being and it would kill a woman if she didn’t have children.
Kenshi’s secret history is fashion and the evolution in each country. Japan is obviously his favorite.
☯︎ Before Kenshi was blinded he’s read everything, owned so many books. Now, he can read with Sento, but last time he did that his ancestors smacked up side the head with their spirit form. He had a very colorful conversation with them about it when he meditated.
Now that he’s with Johnny, he has the actor read to him. Hands him a book that he know he likes and Johnny will read it without hesitation. Although the medical history books make his question things, which in turn makes Kenshi smile when he hears Johnny’s little “what the fuck?”s And “huh?”s.
#mk1#mortal kombat#johnny cage#kenshi takahashi#mk johnny cage#johnshi#mk1 johnny cage#kenshi mortal kombat#mk kenshi#mk1 kenshi#snapsasks
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Since Erwin is cheerful and even goofy in every official modern AU depiction, do you think that's his "real" personality and the one he showed to Levi?
The way that Erwin always appears so s o f t in official art always kills me. Yams is absolutely the worst offender with sweet natured History teacher Erwin in his School Castes AU, and Neetwin, wishing he could laze around all day eating chips and reading manga.
Imagining what Erwin's life might have been like if he hadn't been burdened by guilt and fighting for the existence of humanity has been be fertile grounds for writers and artists, with many portraying him as a sweet, goofy nerd who's a bit of a disaster when left to his own devices. (Personally I like modern AU Erwin to retain his intelligence and his edge, but I'm very fond of soft nerdy disaster Erwin too.)
It is interesting to speculate if this soft sweet man is Erwin's "real" personality. There are enough hints in supplementary canon material to suggest that he is. In the Smartpass stories and various games Erwin buys gifts for the other Veterans, procures contraband tea for Levi, helps Nile write love letters to woo Marie, and places a cryptic advert in a newspaper to lead Nile to a personal letter congratulating him on the birth of his third child. What a sweetie.
As to whether Erwin let his guard down to let Levi see the person behind the commander's implacable facade, I think he did. They couldn't have trusted each other the way they did if he hadn't. Daisuke Ono's description of Levi as the last store of Erwin's humanity confirms that Levi sees Erwin as a human being first and foremost, not as a monster or a military commander. The fact that Erwin and Levi publicly tease each other in canon is also very telling. Levi is clearly comfortable taking the piss out of Erwin and he knows that he will respond in kind. The fact that their weird teasing leaves everyone else completely bemused just makes it all the more touching.
Thanks for your ask Anon, and apologies as always for taking so long to reply.
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Monkey Man and why I loved the heck out of it
At it's core, it's a Bollywood flick presented to the West with familiar nods to previous action films - I definitely picked up hints of Tony Jaa's influence on Asian action flicks throughout.
It's heavily focused on police corruption, something commented a lot about in India, and here, more importantly, Indian films. Just like America has its love affair with mobster flicks, Bollywood has a long history featuring films that showcase police corruption, sometimes tied into political extremism, fanatical or greedy religious leaders, and Monkey Man comments on all this as well and pays nods to that commonality. We've got televangelists and religious leaders in the states funnelling money, preaching prosperity gospel, and using it to influence politics and fund lavish lifestyles here.
Monkey Man shows this happening in India, and is filled with Indian culture and symbolism through out. The focus on Hanuman, the god and one worshiped by the strong, chaste, wrestlers, champions, and fighters. It's a common thing to have a household deity if you will. Some families might choose to focus worship on Ganesh, others Hanuman, some might do Mata Rani or Lakshmi. Here, it's the divine Vanara (monkey people race) - one of the Chiranjivi - immortals/forever-lived.
Hanuman. Themes of rebirth, common in South Asian history and mythology are present from Kid being a ringer, beat up fighter getting whooped for money to being reborn and facing his trauma through a ritual/meditate process that I don't want to get too much into to not spoil the movie. Post that, he begins his own self alchemy to really become the true Monkey Man. Nods to Ramayama, and an unapologetically Indian story featuring dialogues throughout in Hindi - don't worry, there are subtitles.
And of course a love for action flicks before it, all the way back to Bruce Lee. A beautiful use tbh of an autorickshaw (and you might know them as tuk-tuks in Thailand) which are popular in India with an added kick...I swear, that thing had to be modified with a hayabusa motor. Which is an actual thing people do - modding those dinky rickshaws with motorcycle engines, and considering they weigh nothing at all, they can REALLY FLY once you do that.
Monkey Man brings to the big screen other elements of India people might not know about, such as the gender non conforming and trans community that has a long history in India, presenting them as action stars as they go up against a system of corrupt elites oppressing part of the city, marginalized communities, and minority voices as depicted in the film. I'm not sure if people are going to get all of that without having the context, but I love that it does it without holding anyone's hands.
It's a fun action flick to see in the age of superhero films, and I say that as an obvious superhero/sff nerd. Also loved that Dev included a little bit about Hanuman's own story in the film, and the loss of his powers - almost mirrored by Kid's own loss of self/skills, strength until he confronts his trauma and is reborn, and in fact, remade (not necessarily the same). Also, the use of music was brilliant, including one scene with a tabla (the paired hand drums of south asia) - and Indian music is central to Indian stories.
This is a culture with evidence going back to the Paleolithic with cave murals showing art of Indian dance nearly 30,000 years ago. Yeah, that far back. As well as Mesolithic period art depicting musical instruments such as gongs, lyres, and more.
Indian music is some of the earliest we can find that has high developed beat and rhythm structures such as 5, 7, 9 and now the extremely common and known 4/4 and 3/4 - which so much of Western music is built upon. The foundations and experimentation of/in Jazz. John Coltrane and John Cage were heavily inspired by Indian music and incorporated a lot from it into their works. And Monkey Man blends Eastern and Western music through the narrative as comfortably as it does an Indian story in a very familiar Western accessible structure.
Dev did a wonderful job. And thanks to Jordan Peele for bringing it to screens.
#monkey man#jordan peele#dev patel#Bollywood#bollywood movies#Indian films#indian culture#India#hanuman#ganesh#south asian#Ramayama#superhero#superhero films#Indian music#bollywood songs#loved this film#great film#love this movie#john coltrane#John Cage#Jazz#music soundtrack#films#movies#movie review
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Omg please give us more info of HRE and Italy 😙 what is their story?
(Of course dear anon! But first, I have to warn y'all: HRE's canon characterization is...a big mess. As a history nerd, I tried to find a more "accurate" way to depict him, so if it distances a bit from canon I am sorry! Also chibitalia makes no sense along with chibiromano, so we scrap them here. Long post ahead.)
Italy-HRE relationship: my take on it!🇮🇹
Before actually starting to look at their relationship, I think I have to make it clear that I envision HRE as Germania's son rather than grandson. That is because it is a general conception that both Prussia and Germany are Germania's sons, and so to make HRE his grandson (mind you, HRE is older than germany!) makes...no sense. Also, if you think HRE is Germany, this depiction might help. Moreover, this headcanon is more of an help to keep the plot linear rather than an historical fact.
Another point is his age. I really do not like chibitalia, and think that the whole thing of making Feli dress like a girl is...creepy? So again, I scrap this whole bullshit, since HRE and Italy are already several centuries old when they start having a relationship. HRE officially was created in 800 with Charlemagne, but similar to the Italy Brothers case, I depict HRE being "born" a bit before that, since he is Germania's son and was most likely alive before his dad died (poor guy). That makes him a bit younger than Feli.
So we come to the year 800! A 11 year old looking Feli is brought in the new and shining Holy Roman Empire and he...is not enthusiast about it.
HRE says in canon that he started loving Italy ever since the 900s, and I actually really like this touch. The first century is most likely feli getting used to live in such a different context, and their relationship was not good at the start. So HRE actually having a middle school kinda crush for one of his territories is actually so cute. Mind you that here they were still fairly young looking, so it was mostly puppy (for now unrequited) love between a young empire and his conquered land.
Fast forward to roughly 4 centuries! Both HRE and Feli grew up to their late teens/early adulthood, and the latter in particular started to gain more and more autonomy from his "young emperor". Venice was starting to affirm in Europe as a powerful Republic, the duchy of Tuscany flourishing with arts, Genoa becoming a maritime power... y'know, he was getting bitches around Europe.
And HRE? The crush for Italy just never left, and it only got stronger as they grew. Feli was now his sorta-equal, and he admired him so much at this point. And so I hc that roughly around the second half of the XIV century, they started "dating". (Oh and to make it clear, I don't make the whole "HRE thinks italy is a girl blah blah" because gay rights♡♡) whereas it was their first serious relationship with another nation.
I like to hc that HRE gave Feli his "Veneziano" nickname, since he used to call him "his beautiful veneziano" everytime they met. because they both struggled a lot during that time, with Feli trying to manage the rivalries between Tuscan cities and HRE managing whatever the hell was his empire (LMAOO).
now, regarding the death of HRE, the official date of dissolution of the empire was around 1806. in hetalia however, it is implied that HRE died in the Thirty Years War, and so that bring us almost two centuries before in 1648. I honestly want to keep this as the period that he died, mostly because it adds more...tragicness? to it. although I have to bang my head against a wall trying to understand who the hell replaced this guy after his death. (Prussia?? Austria??)
anyways, this guy goes to war and he NEVER returns. nation death is not common, and especially not something that happens everyday, so across Europe it was a big shock to hear when across the battlefield the corpse of the once Holy Roman Empire was retrieved. And you can also imagine the utter shock that feli upon learning about his lover's death.
It scarred him, a lot. HRE was his "first love" and he was the one that gave him the utmost respect. even months after his funeral, feli still waited for a letter from him hell, one singular word even! but of course, this was just a product of his grief stricken head. this is also why I headcanon him as being very frivolous in his sentimental life, since the only time he had love, it had been ripped away from him in the cruellest way possible.
#hetalia#hws hre#hws italy#headcanons#this is also a long post eheh#hope you guys like it!#do i tag it as gerita tho#uuuuh fuck it#gerita
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