#vincent zeal

[frozen-fountain]

Ten Songs, Ten People

Tagged by the lovely @late-to-the-fandom.

Rules: Put a wip/character/etc playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up. Describe how they relate to your WIPs or worldbuilding.

Tagging: @hrh-spinach, @ourspecial, @bowieandthemickjaggernauts, @laboradorescence, @keioschaos when you get home, @punkass-diogenes, @the--calamity, @visualheresy, and @danceswithdarkspawn. You guys all seem to have interesting taste in music so I'd love to see what you come up with.

Without further ado, and from my multi-fandom plot bunny playlist:

How to Be Invisible by Kate Bush

This is the Shera song for me. It's even the working title (probably to be discarded) of a fic I want to write centered on her, in which learns the deceptive power that can come with being small and easily overlooked. Ostensibly my attempt at a tournament arc, she's going behind enemy lines to do some espionage none of the loud and identifiable main cast could ever get away with.

Sleep is a Curse by Maudlin of the Well

I've been finding this one really useful for getting into Cloud's post-canon headspace as I see it. Ostensibly excited for everything they're doing to make it up to the planet for allowing them a second chance, he's still dissociating his way through village council meetings, fixating on his mistakes, and wondering if humanity enjoying a brief moment of singularity before the end wasn't the better option after all.

Rings of Earth by Kayo Dot

If this series had an anime adaptation I'd want this as the ED. Walking around with the ghosts of the industrialised old world at every turn.

Gospel For a New Century by Yves Tumor

An instrumental version of this was my mental soundtrack for the gang's slow motion entrance into the museum during the Dulosis heist. Plus, I was listening to this album a ton during the early days of lockdown which is when I was first gahtering my ideas for this project, so it always takes me back.

Church Burns by Zeal and Ardor

I couldn't get this one out of my head when I was writing Barret arguing with his id in the form of Dyne, and the shards left behind from everything that happened in Corel and then Midgar.

Killing Game by Skinny Puppy

This is my go-to "Moment of unpleasant revelation and subsequent breakdown" song, and I currently associate it most strongly with Vincent's trip to Gongaga and realising what he should actually feel guilty about.

The Cockfighter by Scott Walker

I find this avant-garde composition about the trial of Adolf Eichmann surprisingly great for writing action to. If it's a really ugly, bloodthirsty, gritty fight, at least. The shifts and lulls in its tone and rhythm work really well in guiding bouts of exhaustion and trash talk and renewed energising vitriol.

Maw by Chelsea Wolfe

I played this on repeat when I wrote my Anima fic, but it's a good song in general for handling the liminal and suspended feeling that comes with a significant shock or loss begins to sink in.

Love Song by Susumu Hirasawa

I played this as I wrote, rewrote, and edited Elmyra and Marlene watching the lifestream rise, and I can't listen to it without crying anymore.

Then Came the Wave by Atoma

I associate this one with the World of Ruin in FFVI, and particularly Celes alone on the raft, not knowing what if anything waits for her beyond the island she woke up on but facing down the horizon anyway.

[anastpaul]

Our Morning Offering – 26 September – St Vincent Ferrer's Prayer of Petition, Grant Me, O My God

Our Morning Offering – 26 September – “Month of The Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary and The Holy Cross” Grant me, O my GodBy St Vincent Ferrer (1350-1419) Good Jesus,let me be penetrated with loveto the very marrow of my bones,with fear and respect toward Thee.Let me burn with zeal for Thy honour,so that I may deeply resent,all the outrages committed against Thee,especially those of…

[orthodoxydaily]

SAINTS&READING : Friday, August 4, 2023

august 4_July 22

THE HOLY MYRH-BEARER EQUAL-UNTO-THE-APOSTLES MARY MAGDALENE ( 1st c.)

Mary Magdalene was one of the myrrh-bearing women and “equal to the apostles”. She was born in the town of Magdala along the shore of Lake Gennesaret and was from the tribe of Issachar. She was tormented by seven evil spirits from which the Lord Jesus freed her and made her whole. She was a faithful follower and servant of the Lord during His earthly life. Mary Magdalene stood beneath the Cross on Golgotha and grieved bitterly and mourned with the All-Holy Birth-giver of God. After the death of the Lord she visited His sepulchre three times. When the Lord resurrected she saw Him on two occasions: once alone and the other time with the other myrrh-bearing women.

[While it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the sepulchre (tomb) carrying the ointments. (For this reason the Church calls her “Myrrh-bearer”.) Coming close she saw that the large stone that had been placed at the entrance of the tomb had been rolled away. She thought that perhaps someone had already come and taken the Body to another place. Hurrying back to Jerusalem she told the apostles Peter and John: “They have taken away the Lord out of the sepulchre, ‘and we know not where they have laid Him.” Together with them she went again to the tomb and stood there weeping. When they had left she stooped down and looked into the sepulchre. There she saw two angels who asked why she was crying. She told them and then, turning around, she saw Jesus, but in her grief she did not recognize Him, and thinking -He was the gardener, e reason for her weeping. It was only then He said her name: “Mary!” that she recognized Him as her beloved Lord. Not believing her own ears, she cried out with joy, [Rabboni] “Master! Then quickly following his His instructions, she ran quickly to announce the good news to the disciples: “Christ is risen!” (Because she was the other time with the other myrrh-bearing women.

She traveled to Rome and appeared before Tiberias Caesar and presenting him with a red colored egg, greeted him with the words: “Christ is Risen!” At the same time, she accused Pilate before Caesar for his unjust condemnation of the Lord Jesus. Caesar accepted her accusation and transferred Pilate from Jerusalem to Gaul where, this unjust judge, in disfavor with the emperor, died of a dread disease. After that, Mary Magdalene returned from Rome [and having passed through all of Italy and France, along with Egypt, Phoenicia, Syria and Pamphylia preaching Christ, she returned to Jerusalem, where she stayed for a period of time with the Theotokos. She returned] to Ephesus to St. John the Theologian whom she assisted in the work of preaching the Gospel. With great love toward the resurrected Lord, and with great zeal, she proclaimed the Holy Gospel to the world as a true apostle of Christ. She died peacefully in Ephesus and, according to tradition, was buried in the same cave in which seven youths were miraculously put to sleep for hundreds of years and, after that, were brought to life and then died (August 4). The relics of St. Mary Magdalene were later transferred to Constantinople. There is a Russian Orthodox convent dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene near the Garden of Gethsemane.

Source: Saint Sophia Orthodox Cathedral , Washington DC

SAINT WANDREGISILUS (Gaul_668)

St.Wandregisel, Church of St. Vincent-de-Paul, Clichy

The son of Walchisus, a kinsman of Pepin of Landen,[2] he was born around 605, near Verdun in the region then known as Austrasia. He was educated at the Frankish court in Metz.

Wandregisel was part of a group of young courtiers including Audoin and Didier of Cahors who served Dagobert I, but in 629 he retired from court to become a monk at Montfaucon under the guidance of Saint Balderic. Wandregisel had received the tonsure without the permission normally required for a courtier, and was summoned to court to explain this apparent oversight. Dagobert then approved his request.[3]

Wandregisel soon withdrew to live as a hermit in complete solitude at Saint-Ursanne in the Jura.[2] Wandregisel adhered to the principles of Columbanus and his disciple Saint Ursicinus, who had founded several monasteries in the region. In 635, Wandregisel spent some time at the monastery of Saint Columban at Bobbio in northern Italy.[1] From there, he wished to travel to Ireland,  but by 642 got only as far as the abbey of Romainmôtier,[5] which lay on the banks of the river Isère in the Tarentaise Valley.

Wandregisel was ordained, and then founded Fontenelle Abbey in Normandy,[1] on land obtained from Erchinoald through the influence of his friend Archbishop Audoin of Rouen. Fontenelle followed the rule of Saint Columbanus, and the abbey became an important center of learning. Near the abbey's ruins lies the village of Saint-Wandrille-Rançon.

Wandregisel died on July 22, 668

During the Viking invasions, Wandregisel's relics were dispersed to various locations and shared between various churches, including the abbey of Saint-Pierre-au-Mont-Blandin in Ghent (now in Belgium). Wandregisel's cult was celebrated in England prior to the Norman Conquest of 1066.[1]

In the 19th century one of his relics remained: his skull was found in Liège. It was brought back to the Abbey, when the new church was dedicated in 1967. It can be seen today in a modern reliquary.

1 CORINTHIANS 9:2-12

2 If I am not an apostle to others, yet doubtless I am to you. For you are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord.3 My defense to those who examine me is this: 4 Do we have no right to eat and drink? 5 Do we have no right to take along a believing wife, as do the other apostles, the brothers of the Lord, and Cephas? 6 Or is it only Barnabas and I who have no right to refrain from working? 7 Who ever goes to war at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard and does not eat of its fruit? Or who tends a flock and does not drink of the milk of the flock? 8 Do I say these things as a mere man? Or does the law not say the same also? 9 For it is written in the law of Moses, "You shall not muzzle an ox while it treads out the grain." Is it oxen God is concerned about? 10 Or does He say it altogether for our sakes? For our sakes, no doubt, this is written, that he who plows should plow in hope, and he who threshes in hope should be partaker of his hope.11If We have sown spiritual things for you, is it a great thing if we reap your material things? 12 If others are partakers of this right over you, are we not even more? Nevertheless, we have not used this right but endure all things lest we hinder the gospel of Christ.

LUKE 8:1-3

1 It came to pass, afterward, that He went through every city and village, preaching and bringing the glad tidings of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with Him, 2 and certain women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities-Mary called Magdalene, out of whom had come seven demons, 3 and Joanna the wife of Chuza, Herod's steward, and Susanna, and many others who provided for Him from their substance.

[miragemirrors]

EMBRACE THE POINT OF NO RETURN: a tregear playlist

(73 tracks, 4h50min)

(cover art by me @baradhiblue)

Sibeling - Depeche Mode

Walking On Air - Kerli

Miss Negativity - Night Club

MORBID FASCINATION - Blood Red Shoes

911 - Lady Gaga

Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden

Sunrise - New Order

SUPERIMPOSE - ELIO

See You - Depeche Mode

Hellraiser XX - LYZZA

this call is coming from inside the house - Bea Miller

Toxins - Georgi Kay

Orphan - Holy Wars

Same Old Blues - Phantogram

Love Is Dead - Kerli

Living Dead - MARINA

Holy (Til You Let Me Go) - Rina Sawayama

Mirror's Paradise - The Kovenant

Spectres from the Black Moss - Ashbury Heights

Somewhat Damaged - Nine Inch Nails

Disturbia - Rihanna

Palm Desert - St. Vincent

Eat the Acid - Kesha

Where the Dark Things Are - Kerli

Marry the Night (The Weeknd & Illangelo Remix) - Lady Gaga

Dead Is The New Alive (Manipulator Mix By Dope Stars Inc.) - Emilie Autumn

Fresh Tendrils - Soundgarden

I AM NOT YOU - Blood Red Shoes

Trust No One - Zeal & Ardor

Scary Mark - Poppy, Fever 333

- Kim Petras

Your Patron Saints - WARGASM (UK)

Baphomet - Satanic Planet, Jung Sing

A Villain's Monologue - Blood Command

Sindrom - The Kovenant

LITTLE GODZ - Holy Wars

American Cockroach - Deap Vally

Personal Jesus (Single Version) - Depeche Mode

Magnets - Disclosure, Lorde

Gods & Monsters - Lana Del Rey

Homewrecker - MARINA

Devil - Slayyyter

Problem - Natalia Kills

Play Destroy - Poppy, Grimes

Strangelove - Depeche Mode

S&M - Rihanna

Power (feat. Pussy Riot) - Siiickbrain

Freak Like Me - Night Club

Pink Venom - BLACKPINK

Turn Off The Light (feat. Elvira, Mistress of the Dark) - Kim Petras

Teeth - Lady Gaga

Pet - A Perfect Circle

Katch 22 - Alien Sex Fiend

World In My Eyes - Depeche Mode

Only Lonely - ACTORS

Pain - Boy Harsher

Mannequin - The Kovenant

Wrong Turn - Kim Petras

This World Ain't Big Enough - Saint Agnes

Mx. Sinister - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Hall of Mirrors - The Distillers

Villain Dies - (G)I-DLE

Anarchy - KMFDM

ROUGH 7 (feat. Tommy Genesis) - JPEGMAFIA

Burning Desire - Lana Del Rey

I Want It All - Bonnie McKee

Hurt Me - Kerli

Rev 22:20 (Don't Shoot the Messenger Version) - Puscifer

IMMORTALLY YOURS - KMFDM

Something I Can Never Have - Nine Inch Nails

Ipswitch - Georgi Kay

Die on a Rope - The Distillers

Something To Believe In - Kesha

[apenitentialprayer]

Print of Cardinal Pierre de Bérulle

Nephew of the famed Madame Acarie, Pierre de Bérulle served briefly as Chaplain to Henri IV. He was a primary negotiator for the establishment of the Carmelite Order in France, founder and Superior of the French Oratory, and in 1627, Cardinal under Pope Urbain VII. He is zeal to protect and reform Catholicism drew Bérulle into the political arena as well: mediating between the duc de Nevers and Marie de Medici in 1617, reconciling the queen mother with Louis XIII, and obtaining Papal dispensation for the proposed marriage Henriette de France and Charles I in 1624. While Bérulle’s apostolic labors bred infamy within Protestant circles, his role as spiritual director of notables such as Saint Vincents de Paul and Descartes provoked to veneration among Catholics.

- Roberta Brown (Trinitarian Mechanisms: From Bérulle to Descarte)

[jamesfmurphy]

Truth Bombs…

Security without liberty has a name: Prison

“Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the outcome of the vote.” ~Benjamin Franklin

"Arms discourage and keep the invader and plunderer in awe, and preserve order in the world as well as property... Horrid mischief would ensue were the law-abiding deprived of the use of them." ~Thomas Paine

A [person] who demands further gun control legislation is like a chicken who roots for Colonel Sanders."

- Larry Elder, radio personality

"One of the ordinary modes, by which tyrants accomplish their purposes without resistance, is, by disarming the people, and making it an offense to keep arms."

-- Constitutional scholar and Supreme Court Justice Joseph Story, 1840

"Gun control has cleared the way for seven major genocides since 1915, in which governments gone bad murdered 56,000,000 persons, including millions of children."

-Aaron Zelman of Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership

"Americans used to roar like lions for liberty; now we bleat like sheep for security." — Norman Vincent Peale

"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." ~Benjamin Franklin

“A fear of weapons is a sign of retarded sexual and emotional maturity” - Sigmund Freud

“Though defensive violence will always be a sad necessity in the eyes of men of principle, it would be still more unfortunate if wrongdoers should dominate just men.” ~St. Augustine

“If ye love wealth greater than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest for freedom, go home and leave us in peace. We seek not your council nor your arms. Crouch down and lick the hand that feeds you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.” ~Samuel Adams

"I sympathize with people who want to ban guns, but I can't agree with them. We have to be careful in our zeal to abolish guns that we don't wind up with counter-productive legislation that will leave armed only the people most likely to do harm with them." ~Hugh Downs, veteran ABC newsman

"Guns are not always the answer, but obtaining a firearm has saved the lives of many... While I favor keeping guns out of the hands of felons, youths and the mentally impaired, I oppose adding more bureaucratic obstacles that attempt to fight crime by disarming its victims." ~Peter Kasler, NY Times, 13 Jul, 1991

"If someone has a gun and is trying to kill you, it would be reasonable to shoot back with your own gun." ~The Dalai Lama

" ... the right to defend one's home and one's person when attacked has been guaranteed through the ages by common law." -Martin Luther King

"When a strong man, fully armed, guards his house, his possessions are safe." Luke 11:21

"After [someone goes on] a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away from the people who didn't do it. ~William S. Burroughs

When seconds count between living or dying, the police are only minutes away." ~Phillip Van Cleave

[silvestromedia]

SAINTS FOR MARCH 13

ST. CHRISTINA OF PERSIA, MARTYR, she lived during the third century and was the daughter of a rich and powerful magistrate believed to have been named Urbain. He was deep in the practices of heathenism and had a number of golden idols, which he distributed among the poor. Mar. 13

ST. SABINUS OF HERMOPOLIS, MARTYR IN EGYPT, With other Christians, he retreated into the wilderness to escape the persecutions of Diocletian, but was betrayed to the authorities by a beggar he had helped. Martyr. Died. drowned in the River Nile in Egypt c.307; Mar.13

St. Ramirus and Companions, Roman catholic Martyrs of Spain. Ramirus served as prior of St. Claudus Monastety in Leon, Spain. The community was set upon by the Visigoths who, as Arians, opposed orthodox Christianity. The abbot, St Vincent, was put to death, followed two days later by Ramirus and the entire community. Feastday Mar. 13

ST. LEANDER, BISHOP OF SEVILLE, Leander was born at Cartagena, Spain, of Severianus and Theodora, illustrious for their virtue. St. Isidore and Fulgentius, both bishops were his brothers, and his sister, Florentina, is also numbered among the saints. He became a monk at Seville and then the bishop of the See. Mar. 13 Bl. Agnello of Pisa. The founder of the English Franciscan province, Blessed Agnello, was admitted into the Order by St. Francis himself on the occasion of his sojourn in Pisa. He was sent to the Friary in Paris, of which he became the guardian, and in 1224, St. Francis appointed him to found an English province; at the time he was only a deacon. Eight others were selected to accompany him. True to the precepts of St. Francis, they had no money, and the monks of Fecamp paid their passage over to Dover. They made Canterbury their first stopping place, while Richard of Ingworth, Richard of Devon and two of the Italians went on to London to see where they could settle. It was the winter of 1224, and they must have suffered great discomfort, especially as their ordinary fare was bread and a little beer, which was so thick that it had to be diluted before they could swallow it. Nothing, however, dampened their spirits, and their simple piety, cheerfulness and enthusiasm soon won them many friends. They were able to produce a commendatory letter from Pope Honorius III, so that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Steven Langton, in announcing their arrival, said, "Some religious have come to me calling themselves penitents of the Order of Assisi, but I called them of the Order of the Apostles." In the meantime, Richard of Ingworth and his party had been well received in London and hired a dwelling on Cornhill. They were now ready to push on to Oxford, and Agnello came from Canterbury to take charge of the London settlement. Everywhere the Friars were received with enthusiasm, and Matthew Paris himself attests that Blessed Agnello was on familiar terms with King Henry III. Agnello is thought to have died at the age of forty-one, only eleven years after he landed at Dover, but his reputation for sanctity and prudence stood high amongst his fellows. It is stated that his zeal for poverty was so great that "he would never permit any ground to be enlarged or any house to be built except as inevitable necessity required." He was stern in resisting relaxations in the Rule, but his gentleness and tact led him to be chosen in 1233 to negotiate with the rebellious Earl Marshal. His health is said to have been undermined by his efforts in this cause and by a last painful journey to Italy. Opon his return he was seized with dysentery at Oxford and died there, after crying out for three days, "Come, Sweetest Jesus." The cult of Blessed Agnello was confirmed in 1892; his feast is observed in the Archdiocese of Birmingham today and by the Friars Minor on the eleventh.

St. Kevoca, 7th century. Scottish saint, honored in Kyle, Scotland. but now believed to be St. Mochoemoc. Also called Quivox.

St. Mochoemoc, 656 A.D. Abbot Founder of Liath Mochoemoc Monastery at Tipperary, Ireland. He was the son of Bevan and Nessa and the brother or nephew of St. Ita. Listed as Machaemhog, Puicherius, or Vuicherius, he was trained by St. Ita, at Munster, Ireland, and received ordination by St. Comgall at Bangor. Mochoemoc founded Arderin Abbey and others before he died.

[cathademia]

i think 24 might be the only one i don’t know, please tell

There’s a couple others you don’t know to my knowledge

24. Sisters of Life I think is my current fav and probably the order I would join if I decided to enter religious life, if not the Dominicans because I have family in the mother house

Historically the Daughters of Charity of St Vincent de Paul were real heroes across America. May God bless them with orthodoxy, greater numbers, and renewed zeal to offer free healthcare to poor people

[oleworm]

Dick, by virtue of his aristocratic class status, American civil identity, and interest in Equiano’s humanity, represents something of an economic and erotic threat to the captain. And at the same time, these refined qualities in Dick, added to his youth, make him erotically appetizing to the captain. Triangulation serves to intensify desire. The special heart bond between Dick and Equiano excites the captain, who openly admits to the desire to ingest both of them. The picture of the white colonizers making Negro soup that I cite in the introduction clarifies the dynamic I am describing among the two whites and the black youth. In that picture, a commanding military officer, his attendant, and porter gather around a skewered Bakongo man. The missionary and explorer are implied, as military occupation would not be possible without the initial paving of the missionary and explorer. In Equiano’s situation, his master and the captain of the ship is a naval officer. Dick is a devout Christian who also has a bit of the missionary’s zeal. Both Dick and the ship’s captain, Michael Henry Pascal, are emissaries of their respective states. Christianity, romantic friendship, British militarization, and U.S. slavocracy are all employed in the making of Equiano into a New World object of gastronomical delight.

Equiano portrays Richard as innocent, disconnected from the larger cannibalizing circumstances that have brought the two boys together. Richard has to stand apart if he is to serve as the young African’s “kind interpreter,” his reliable mediator into white ways and white culture. Equiano’s genteel, kindly white readership had to identify with Richard, to see themselves in his kindness and altruism toward this slave, if they were to ultimately accept Equiano’s transition from savage to noble gentleman. However, the captain, in his crude fashion, implicates Dick in the larger culture of African cannibalization. He anticipates the nineteenth-century American concern over “Christian cannibalism” and other forms of institutionalized consumption of slaves. Richard is Christ-like, and for Equiano to experience Christian saving he will have to sacrifice himself, give himself over to this young savior. A part of this sacrifice involves accepting himself as heathen, denying his color and African features, and, through Richard and Christianity, learning to identify with and worship white masculinity.

The Delectable Negro: Human Consumption and Homoeroticism within US Slave Culture by Vincent Woodard (2014)

[anastpaul]

Our Morning Offering – 9 November – Grant me, O my God, By St Vincent Ferrer

Our Morning Offering – 9 November – Grant me, O my God, By St Vincent Ferrer

Our Morning Offering – 9 November Grant me, O my GodBy St Vincent Ferrer OP (1350-1419) Good Jesus,let me be penetrated with loveto the very marrow of my bones,with fear and respect toward You.Let me burn with zeal for Your honour,so that I may resent terribly,all the outragescommitted against You,especially those of whichI myself have been guilty.Grant further, O my God,that I may adore and…

[readerinsertfanfiction]

//kicks down door// Nemoz! Sending you lotsa pretzels for good vibes 🥨🥨🥨🥨🥨 Nothing cheers me up better than being whisked away for a fun time after (or during) a long day of work~ spontaneous distraction is a love language 💕💕 //upon consulting the expert opinion, I am once again humbly asking for Leonardo fluff 😌🙈💖✨ Happy writing cutie and remember to take care of yourself too 💙💙💙

My door!!! //pushes it back into place you will be getting a bill later, lady! The pretzels will do for emotional damage done.

Now I didn't entirely follow your request, though putting Theo in his place is quite laborious, so I suppose I did follow it somewhat. Most of all, I hope you enjoy this (and the little easter eggs I left ya!)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Leonardo Da Vinci

Words: -1K

Warnings: Mentions of food, and dirty jokes also lots of feral energy.

Masterlist

That Leonardo wasn't an early riser was known. Sebastian usually didn't bother preparing breakfast for him, knowing that the pureblood wasn't to rise from his next until noon, if he even thought of food to begin with when waking up, for he didn't need it, and thus was content with working through his days on little less.

His cara was different, however. You rose early, liking to spend the day with the rest of the residents at the dining table as you banter away in the morning. Leonardo imagined you to do this with the brightest smile and the greatest zeal, picking out your favourite breakfast items that Sebastian has considerately prepared for you. After all, you were the loveliest creature in the world in his opinion. A reason why he didn't feel the need to crawl out in the mornings to look after you. It was good to give you the time with your friends before you dedicated it all to him.

The one time Leonardo did rise early was a surprise for all, but above all for himself, when he walked into the dining room to find you pulling Theo at his scruff.

"Fite me, coward!" you had pitched at the man, and Leonardo wondered what the Dutch had done to deserve his face nearly shoved into the bowl of syrup with pieces of pancakes afloat.

"Think you can steal my pancake!" you had exclaimed, immediately explaining what had happened for this scene to unfold as Theo could barely hold down a grin, whilst Vincent sat next to him with an apologetic smile and frangic gestures.

"Theo didn't mean to—"

"Oh, no, I meant it," the younger brother cut off his older brother, a shit eating grin on his face challenging you even more, while your coffee stood cold to the side.

Leonardo had never seen you in such a manic state, surprising himself as he carefully noted to never steal your breakfast for his own sake.

"Now what will you d—" Theo, never one to stop where he should, was quickly muffled by the plate of syrup and pancake bits that you had brought up to his face instead, rubbing the plate in with an extra twist before releasing everything at once and stepping away.

"Charge, of course, I'm not a coward!" Your triumphant claim had sounded and Leonardo couldn't believe the savageness he saw in you, whom he had known until now as gentle and kind and warm.

It amused him, a bit, as much as it bothered him.

"How about–"

Before you could continue your revenge on the art dealer and his disgraced pancakes Leonardo had lifted you up, slinging up in his arms with a charming 'good morning' before winking at the rest.

"I'm taking this one out, ye?" he announced, even if it was a bit needless, carrying you away in his arms towards the front entrance of the mansion where he exited further down the path into the forest.

"Leo?" he heard you plead, now suddenly demure, and Leonardo wondered if you felt shy. A thought that made him chuckle again when he marched further down the forest, towards the lake nearby.

"Today's date; breakfast outside," he announced when he finally paused, allowing you down before he shrugged off his coat and spread it out on the soil. With another gesture the man had pulled you into his lap, arms locked around you before realising that he had forgotten the most important part for breakfast; food.

A fact that didn't escale you, face flush and a pout deeply set on your face while you hit him in the chest.

"We could have gone into town instead," you huff, to which the male can't help himself but to flick your nose, affection blooming over in his expression before he holds your cheek in a tender hold.

"Could, but I didn't want to show off your wild ways," Leonardo admits, finally naming what he had been feeling earlier in the dining room, even if it is only mentally. Tightening his hold as your eyes widen, unsure on how to answer, Leonardo presses his lips against your cheekbones, firmly, as if wanting you to remember that kiss amongst the hundreds he has already given you.

"Wish you would get this wild with me,” he whispers, his tone suggestive. It earns him another thwack on his chest, the blush across your face deepening which he finds even more adorable than your tiny shrieks of thinly veiled threats and expression of pure feral aggression muttered into his chest.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, a deep rumble escaping him while you are trying to wrestle yourself free out of his hold, more threats following that makes it hard for Leonardo to control his voice, “let’s go get you some food, alright?” Leonardo casually proposes, ignoring whatever protests you had while he carried you off once more.

[juminly]

Can i just say your last hc😱😱😱😳! Im still squealing over how sweet and cute it was❤❤🥰🌈 So naturally i cant resist but request a continuation HC for ma best bois, Theo, Vincent and Isaac! If u dont mind❤❤😳🌻 also just wanted to send u a reminder incase you forgot...You are a wonderful human! And im super happy to have met such a wonderful ray o sunshine on tumblr ☀️🌞 hope you are keeping safe and warm❤🦋🌻 Thabk you so much dear! Sending u tons of hugs🙌🙌🙌🌻❤🌞

My lovely Zeta, you’re making me blush. Love you, darling and you always brighten up my day with your sweetness. Here are some best bois for you. Tagging @delicateikemenmemes cause Theo... XD 

First kisses with Theodorus, Vincent and Isaac

Theodorus Van Gogh

The first time Theodorus kisses you, you feel alive and truly loved, desired and… needed.

He kisses you out of utter frustration from all the pent-up emotions he's been trying to hide, behind that handsome smug face of his.

Blame and thank his tsundere ass for this kiss.

Threading his fingers softly through your hair, his gentle touch was a contrast to the kiss he surprised attacked you with and the way he’s almost crushing you in his embrace.

Theodorus is fierce, holding you securely against him, not giving you the chance to pull away, even if you wanted to.

His kiss is full of hunger, claiming yours with an incredible sense of urgency and laced with so much passion and intensity as he licks and nips at you, coaxing you to open up for him, entwining his tongue with yours.

This man was making you dizzy, in the most blissful way anyone could do so and if you didn't happen to whine against his mouth and push your hands on his chest, he wouldn't have broken the kiss.

He literally took your breath away and he was almost completely content in not breathing at all, if it meant being connected to you.

His need for you threatened to consume him and his body was slightly shaking as he resisted the need to pull you in for another kiss.

Theo rests his forehead on yours and pants, just simply holding you in the most heartwarming embrace while tangling his fingers through your hair delicately. (Boy is trying to calm himself, okay?)

He'll curse under his breath for losing control then grin a bit abashed by his lack of composure and he’s also kinda blushing, only to find you resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him and smiling softly.

“What are you smiling about, Knabbeltje?”

“Hmm...” you pause to think, his eyes locked on yours then searching your face, captivated by the soft blush on the top of your cheeks. “Just the man I love.”

“H-Hondje… Y/N… You…” he attempts to use a warning tone but he can’t help but croon your name roughly.

“Your Hondje… Your Y/N.”

You poked his heart real hard.

And to put the cherry on top, you go on the tip of your toes, meeting his lips in a kiss that’s so sweet, the man actually melts and moans/sighs against your lips.

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, darling.

PS: Theodorus Van Gogh is officially flatlining and you are now the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and his favourite too.

Vincent Van Gogh

When inspiration strikes, this angel surrenders himself to his muse and is in a creative state of trance.

You often find him with paint streaks over his beautiful face and his hair ruffled in a complete mess, as if he thoughtlessly ran his lithe fingers through them over and over again.

In order to get him to stop and take a break (to have some Rouge or Blanc), you’d step in front of his stool, blocking his view from his canvas and give him something to drink and wipe the paint of his face.

He did look adorable but he began asking you to wipe the paint of his face. 

Honestly, he didn���t mind the paint. He just liked it when you were near.

Standing between his legs, you’d dip a piece of cloth in some water and wipe the paint off his cheek and even found paint stains on his face.

Leaning down, you started giggling as you found trouble removing bits of the paint, staining his skin/hair even more than before.

Looking up at you, Vincent was absolutely taken by you, the sound of your soft laughter and your peaceful expression.

Acting on impulse, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down while he raised himself slightly from the stool, meeting you in the middle in a sweet chaste kiss with a happy smile.

You can feel him smile against your lips and it’s the sweetest thing on earth.

He pulls away only momentarily to assess your expression, seeing the most beautiful shade of pink dusting your cheek and a smile that matched his.

That’s all he needed to see. All that he ever wanted.

He would guide your hand over his shoulder and sit back down on his stool, pushing his knees apart while pulling you closer to him with a gentle hand on your waist.

His expression is relaxed and lips parted as your love for one another brings your lips together once more.

He whispers your name ardently against your lips. He didn’t need to say anything more… you simply knew.

As your lips brush against one another, Vincent sucks and licks your lips, humming with so much zeal, the sound so beguiling that you impulsively allow him to ravage you so sweetly with every push of his tongue against yours.

He draws you closer to sit on his lap, his hands now resting on your sides, caressing your form and squeezing you as you both surrender to your emotions. 

Isaac Newton

This cute bean has been staring at your lips all day. He feels an inexplicable pull to press his lips against yours and kiss you.

He doesn’t know why, he can’t even begin to understand why his body feels the way it does but he needs to do something about it.

You’re beautiful to him. You glimmer, you shimmer, you shine and he wants to bask in the light, the love and the happiness that you’ve shown him in life. 

You’re standing in front of his room, talking to him about something that he was meant to teach you when you suddenly find his face right in front of yours, leaning closer and closer and his nose bumps into yours.

That’s more than enough to make him scowl because his first try was a failure but before he could let his embarrassment overwhelm him (although his cheeks have already turned into the red shade of apples that he claims to hate), he cradles your face with trembling hands and tilts his head to the side, making sure that he angles himself correctly this time, laying the softest of kisses on your lips.

Breathing out nervously, Isaac is barely even able to meet your gaze, still wanting to see your reaction to what just happened.

Did you like it? Did you hate it? Was it wrong for him to do that?

Too many questions were running through that genius brain of his and you definitely knew that.

You firmly grabbed his hands that were placed on your face, ensuring that he doesn’t let his nervousness or hesitation take over.

You finally...  finally got a sign from this shy man and you wanted to let him know that you wanted the same thing he did.

You called his name almost pleadingly, forcing him to look into your eyes that showed nothing but love for him. 

You wanted more and you could see the same reflected in his cherry blossom eyes. 

“Kiss me. Kiss me again, Isaac.”

Your words almost made him choke, hearing the desperation in your voice.

Was that his heart fluttering in his chest or a bunch of butterflies? He couldn’t even tell. He didn’t care.

He just had to comply, leaning towards your lips once again, brushing them gingerly against yours.

Walking closer to him, you closed the distance between you and gradually deepened the kiss, his breath hitching under the intensity of your gentle assault and his knees threatening to buckle, if it wasn’t for the door that was now pressed against his back.

You pushed him against the door even harder as your body flush against his, biting his lower lip and licking your way through as he willingly parts them for you with a silent moan.

You press your tongue against him hungrily and he eventually does the same, pulling one other into the rising warmth and the now simultaneous beating of your hearts.

Isaac’s sense of gravity was completely lost but he couldn’t care less, he found everything that he needed in this moment... in you.

Hope you enjoyed this 💜 Please feel free to leave comments/feedback! Masterlist

[abybweisse]

It goes without saying....

Sebastian says this sort of thing quite frequently, and until recently, I thought he was just showing off because he’s a demon.

However, now I think it’s merely a slight exaggeration (because he’s a demon)... and the Phantomhive family has long been an employer of highly skilled private soldiers. Particularly the highest servant positions, like Head Steward, the butlers, and possibly even the Housekeeper and the lady’s maid. Others, too, like someone in gardening, the coachman, etc. Anyone who is likely to be around when there is an attack should have at least some basic training, and a few positions are likely to require more combat training. Because of what the Phantomhives do.

We know Tanaka is a skilled fighter, and I cannot imagine him being the only one from Vincent’s days who would have been useful in combat.

Even though Bard, Finny, and Mey-Rin are not very good at the cover positions they have been given, they are useful as protectors of the manor. But they all have particularly odd backgrounds. Sebastian and our earl found Finny at a research facility; he has “absurd strength”, as Sebastian puts it, and he doesn’t always think too clearly, so it’s really brute strength that can get out of hand. Mey-Rin showed up with her owl-like long-distance vision, already skilled as a sniper. Sebastian found Bard on a battlefield, probably on US soil, and he’s an explosives expert. They have become professionals at what they really do, and Sebastian and our earl have made a point of it, at least to Joker.

Tanaka has been working for the Phantomhive family since Vincent was a kid. I think previous discussions I’ve had with other bloggers place him joining the Phantomhive household around 1854 or 1855. It would make (some) sense with Japanese politics at the time. He might not have been the House Steward at first, but he definitely was by the time Vincent died. We see that when he describes what the Phantomhive household was like when it was fully staffed.

So, at least a few of these people had to have been skilled at some sort of combat, not just Tanaka, who seems to favor swords, particularly the katana. In those previous discussions with other bloggers, we sort of came to the conclusion that Tanaka must have been one of the last true samurai, or better yet a rōnin, and that he left Japan while the borders were open... to get away from the turmoil in Japan at the time... while hoping or choosing to serve a new master.

It would make sense for Tanaka to train new staff in combat techniques that he knows. Recall that Vincent is “good with knives” — not just hog-tying — so he might have taught some combat skills, too.

So, when we see these (mostly) smiling faces...

...we need to consider that at least a few of them (not just Tanaka) are also highly trained killers. Another requirement for working for a family like the Phantomhives? Loyalty. Unlike Jane’s contract at Heathfield’s manor, these servants would likely have to swear an oath of loyalty. Because of what the Phantomhives do.

Imagine what would happen if one of these loyal, devoted servants (say a butler)...

...died the day of the attack, but their body wasn’t destroyed by the fire?

Imagine how little work it would take for Undertaker to use this person’s own goals (to serve and protect the Phantomhive family) to extend their cinematic records.

The resulting bizarre doll would have a demented sense of loyalty, bordering on religious zeal, to protecting and preserving the heir of Vincent Phantomhive...

**cough cough Polaris cough**

[nafeary]

Theodorus Van Gogh’s Reaction to MC majoring in Pastry Arts

✧✎ A/N: Requested by: @cidylee

Usually, I would have gone with a major considering his art involvement, but I want these headcanons to be FLUFFY which didn’t work out too well with Arthur’s. I need insurance that I won’t step into angst territory, so sugar and spice are the perfect barricades, right? RIGHT??

Others in this series: [Arthur] [Isaac]

But I also wanted to write about Theo utterly falling in love with a three-star hondje MC to the hilt. Theo/Pastry Chef, y’all¿? So here ya go, I hope you like it 😗😗😗

And once again Warning: slightly, teeny, tiny, itsy bitsy suggestive theme at the end

A Little Trivia: The Dutch holiday Koningsdag (King’s Day) used to be named Prinsessedag, and later on Koninginnedag. Also, a Mille-Feuille can also be called napoleon (note the lowercase), although I believe it is slightly different.

It was barely one in the afternoon, and Theodorus Van Gogh had a massive and excruciating headache

Why, you ask?

Exhibit A: At stupid o’clock, King had awoken him in a haphazard manner, expressing the necessity to take a walk

Alas, their excursion had been delayed by the inclement weather, thus his furry companion felt inclined to fulfill his wish. On. His. Godforsaken. Carpet.

Exhibit B: With his mood deteriorating, he fortunately found a beguiling, albeit dry-looking, stack of pancakes on his breakfast table, no doubt courtesy of the human butler

Naive to the fact that a certain detective was watching from the shadows and that the pancakes were, in fact, not made by the wonted human butler, he lifted a piece to let it melt on his lips... and they were not good

Instead of a sweet and fluffy crumb doused in a lake of slightly salted syrup, a dam of morbid repellence seemed to explode in his mouth - as if the cakes were made with salt instead of sugar

“ARTHUR!!!”

Exhibit C: On top of all his misfortune, his brother was on his way to Shakespeare, that everlasting creep. This was enough to sour his grimace e’en further

And yet, as weird as his day started, it suddenly became almost suspiciously perfect

After barricading himself for the whole morning, he went to his room to find King snuggly asleep? With his carpet sans the odor? How?

Additionally, he stumbled upon Vince on his merry way to grab a cup of coffee

Ostensively, the storm raging France was too severe for sunflower boi™️ to visit stabbing kink guy™️

“Broer... will you come for a cup of coffee with me?” he legitimately seemed upset, so he swiftly agreed

As they entered the kitchen, a scent that could only be described as ethereal blinded the brothers’ senses, rendering them speechless

It smelt utterly delicious

“Ah! Theo! Vince!”

“Hondje? What are you doing?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, albeit seemingly caught in the act, to see them, like a puppy discovered to have destroyed another pair of shoes

“This was supposed to be a surprise, but I might as well tell you... I’m making you two some tompouces, to celebrate King’s Day.”

“Celebrate what?”

She pushed some flat, rectangular dough pieces into the stove, chortling lightly, “I’m sorry, Sebastian mentioned that it wasn’t always called “King’s Day”. I meant the “Princess’ Day”.”

Vincent nodded assuringly, “I’m certain you mean Prinsessedag. It was quite new during our life... I’ve never heard of a tompouce, however.”

Your eyes promptly lit up, zeal apparent in your lambent orbs, brighter than any paintings he’d ever seen.

“They’re like a napoleon—“

“Napoleon?”

“Not our Napoleon, like a Mille-Feuille. They’re puff pastry filled with this decadent custard and an orange icing on top-“

As you chattered away with his brother, he noticed a bowl by your side with a heavenly scent exuding from it. Stealthily, he coated his fingertip with some of the flaxen substance

AND OH MY GOD

While Sebastian’s dishes tasted flavourous, this was scrumptiously divine

Light, yet rich in flavor, the vanilla aroma fulminated across his tongue, aided by the creamy texture that could melt even under the strongest of resistances, basking his body in a soothing atmosphere—

“So how is my custard, Theo?” you smirked at the stoic Dutchman

“...decent enough.”

Your smirtled aura vanished, replaced by a brooding scowl. He internally snickered, satisfied by your reaction.

“I spent years studying pastry art, only for you to tell me “decent enough“,” your voice contorted, obviously trying to imitate his tone.

And yet, Theo couldn’t help but let surprise fall across his visage. “You’re a pastry chef, knabbletje?”

And thus, you told him (still rather disdainfull) of your years in college. Alongwhile, Vincent excused himself, returning to his drafts. Natheless, his younger brother chose to stay a little while longer, an idea forming in his head.

Dexterously, he dipped his finger into the cool cream once again, complaints already flying from your lips, “Will you stop taking all the— oh!”

But those quickly died again

Because Theo had swiped some onto your neck, brushing away your gossamer strands in process, nibbling in content at your sweet spot. Heat was already starting to core itself, gripping the counter in desperation.

“T-Theo, I still have to finish the tompouces...”

Alas, he disregarded your words completely.

“I believe I’ve found a brilliant way to put this... degree of yours to good use, hondje.”

...Food Play Theo y’all!!!🥵

Whose reaction do y’all want next?

[Arthur] [Isaac]

[limologic]

Vincent van Gogh suicide note

At 37, Van Gogh shot himself and died in his brother’s arms, but before his death, he struggled with philosophical concepts of identity, purpose, and searching for a moral compass. His art became his outlet to find peace, although his profoundly unique and controversial artwork was only truly appreciated after his death... In his lifetime he only sold one painting. He traveled learning new techniques but remained fixated on painting an atmosphere of brooding darkness.

Apart from painting, Van Gogh expressed his thoughts and ideas in letters to his brother encompassing the philosophical concepts tackled by even the most elite philosophers such as the nature of existence and understanding how to live. His revelations and perceptions shed light on how he wanted to lead his life and work towards finding peace.

At 25, his letter to his brother explains eloquently something we all struggle with— working for a lifelong goal rather than becoming successful overnight.

This letter was written in April 1878:

I’ve been thinking about what we discussed, and I couldn’t help thinking of the words ‘we are today what we were yesterday’. This isn’t to say that one must stand still and ought not try to develop oneself, on the contrary, there are compelling reasons to do and think so.

But in order to remain faithful to those words one may not retreat and, once one has started to see things with a clear and trusting eye, one ought not to abandon or deviate from that.

They who said ‘we are today what we were yesterday’, those were honnêtes hommes, which is apparent from the constitution they drew up, which will remain for all time and of which it has rightly been said that it was written with a ray from on high and a finger of fire. It is good to be an ‘honnête homme’ and truly to endeavour to become one both almost and altogether, and one does well if one believes that being an ‘homme intérieur et spirituel’ is part of it.

If one only knew for certain that one belonged among them, one would always go one’s way, calmly and collectedly, never doubting that things would turn out well. There was once a man who went into a church one day and asked, can it be that my zeal has deceived me, that I have turned down the wrong path and have gone about things the wrong way, oh, if only I could rid myself of this uncertainty and have the firm conviction that I will eventually overcome and succeed. And then a voice answered him, “And if you knew that for certain, what would you do? Act now as though you knew it for certain and thou shalt not be ashamed.” Then the man went on his way, not faithless but believing, and returned to his work, no longer doubting or wavering.

As far as being an homme intérieur et spirituel is concerned, couldn’t one develop that in oneself through knowledge of history in general and of certain people of all eras in particular, from biblical times to the Revolution and from The odyssey to the books of Dickens and Michelet? And couldn’t one learn something from the work of the likes of Rembrandt or from Weeds by Breton, or The four times of the day by Millet, or Saying grace by Degroux, or Brion, or The conscript by Degroux (or else by Conscience), or his Apothecary, or The large oaks by Dupré, or even the mills and sand flats by Michel?

It’s by persevering in those ideas and things that one at last becomes thoroughly leavened with a good leaven, that of sorrowful yet always rejoicing, and which will become apparent when the time of fruitfulness is come in our lives, the fruitfulness of good works.

The ray from on high doesn’t always shine on us, and is sometimes behind the clouds, and without that light a person cannot live and is worth nothing and can do nothing good, and anyone who maintains that one can live without faith in that higher light and doesn’t worry about attaining it will end up being disappointed.

We’ve talked quite a lot about what we feel to be our duty and how we should arrive at something good, and we rightly came to the conclusion that first of all our goal must be to find a certain position and a profession to which we can devote ourselves entirely.

And I think that we also agreed on this point, namely that one must pay special attention to the end, and that a victory achieved after lifelong work and effort is better than one achieved more quickly.

He who lives uprightly and experiences true difficulty and disappointment and is nonetheless undefeated by it is worth more than someone who prospers and knows nothing but relative good fortune. For who are they, those in whom one most clearly notices something higher? — it is those to whom the words ‘workers, your life is sad, workers, you suffer in life, workers, you are blessed’ are applicable, it is those who show the signs of ‘bearing a whole life of strife and work without giving way’. It is good to try and become thus.

So we go on our way ‘undefessi favente Deo’.

As far as I’m concerned, I must become a good minister, who has something to say that is good and can be useful in the world, and perhaps it’s good after all that I have a relatively long time of preparation and become secure in a firm conviction before I’m called upon to speak about it to others. It is wise, before one begins that work, to gather together a wealth of things that could benefit others.

Do let us go on quietly, examining all things and holding fast to that which is good, and trying always to learn more that is useful, and gaining more experience.

Woe-spiritedness is quite a good thing to have, if only one writes it as two words, woe is in all people, everyone has reason enough for it, but one must also have spirit, the more the better, and it is good to be someone who never despairs.

If we but try to live uprightly, then we shall be all right, even though we shall inevitably experience true sorrow and genuine disappointments, and also probably make real mistakes and do wrong things, but it’s certainly true that it is better to be fervent in spirit, even if one accordingly makes more mistakes, than narrow-minded and overly cautious. It is good to love as much as one can, for therein lies true strength, and he who loves much does much and is capable of much, and that which is done with love is well done. If one is moved by some book or other, for instance, just to mention something, ‘The swallow, the lark, the nightingale’, The longing for autumn, ‘From here I see a lady’, ‘Never this unique little village’ by Michelet, it’s because it’s written from the heart in simplicity and with poverty of spirit.

If one were to say but few words, though ones with meaning, one would do better than to say many that were only empty sounds, and just as easy to utter as they were of little use.

Love is the best and most noble thing in the human heart, especially when it has been tried and tested in life like gold in the fire, happy is he and strong in himself who has loved much and, even if he has wavered and doubted, has kept that divine fire and has returned to that which was in the beginning and shall never die. If only one continues to love faithfully that which is verily worthy of love, and does not squander his love on truly trivial and insignificant and faint-hearted things, then one will gradually become more enlightened and stronger. The sooner one seeks to become competent in a certain position and in a certain profession, and adopts a fairly independent way of thinking and acting, and the more one observes fixed rules, the stronger one’s character becomes, and yet that doesn’t mean that one has to become narrow-minded.

It is wise to do that, for life is but short and time passes quickly. If one is competent in one thing and understands one thing well, one gains at the same time insight into and knowledge of many other things into the bargain.

It’s sometimes good to go about much in the world and to be among people, and at times one is actually obliged and called upon to do so, or it can be one way of ‘throwing oneself into one’s work unreservedly and with all one’s might’, but he who actually goes quietly about his work, alone, preferring to have but very few friends, goes the most safely among people and in the world. One should never trust it when one is without difficulties or some worry or obstacle, and one shouldn’t make things too easy for oneself. Even in the most cultured circles and the best surroundings and circumstances, one should retain something of the original nature of a Robinson Crusoe or a savage, for otherwise one hath not root in himself, and never let the fire in his soul go out but keep it going, there will always be a time when it will come in useful. And whosoever continues to hold fast to poverty for himself, and embraces it, possesses a great treasure and will always hear the voice of his conscience speaking clearly. Whosoever hears and follows the voice in his innermost being, which is God’s best gift, ultimately finds therein a friend and is never alone.

Happy is he who has faith in God, for he shall overcome all of life’s difficulties in the end, though it be not without pain and sorrow. One cannot do better than to hold fast to the thought of God and endeavour to learn more of Him, amidst everything, in all circumstances, in all places and at all times; one can do this with the Bible as with all other things. It is good to go on believing that everything is miraculous, more so than one can comprehend, for that is the truth, it is good to remain sensitive and lowly and meek in heart, even though one sometimes has to hide that feeling, because that is often necessary, it is good to be very knowledgeable about the things that are hidden from the wise and prudent of the world but that are revealed as though by nature to the poor and simple, to women and babes. For what can one learn that is better than that which God has put by nature into every human soul, that which in the depths of every soul lives and loves, hopes and believes, unless one should wilfully destroy it? There, in that, is the need for nothing less than the boundless and miraculous, and a man does well if he is satisfied with nothing less and doesn’t feel at home until he has acquired it.

That is the avowal that all great men have expressed in their works, all who have thought a little more deeply and have sought and worked a little harder and have loved more than others, who have launched out into the deep of the sea of life. Launching out into the deep is what we too must do if we want to catch anything, and if it sometimes happens that we have to work the whole night and catch nothing, then it is good not to give up after all but to let down the nets again at dawn.

So let us simply go on quietly, each his own way, always following the light ‘sursum corda’, and as such who know that we are what others are and that others are what we are, and that it is good to have love one to another namely of the best kind, that believeth all things and hopeth all things, endureth all things and never faileth.

And not troubling ourselves too much if we have shortcomings, for he who has none has a shortcoming nonetheless, namely that he has none, and he who thinks he is perfectly wise would do well to start over from the beginning and become a fool.

We are today what we were yesterday, namely ‘honnêtes hommes’, but ones who must be tried with the fire of life to be innerly strengthened and confirmed in that which they are by nature through the grace of God.

May it be so with us, old boy, and I wish you well on your way, and God be with you in all things, and make you succeed at that, that is what is wished you with a hearty handshake at your departure.

Your most loving brother,

Vincent

The Essential Letter is an anthology containing 265 letters written by Van Gogh, which contains about a third of all the surviving letters he wrote.

Image Sources:

biography.com, uploads2.wikiart.org, blogs.elpais.com, feelgrafix.com