a classical dark academia playlist for art museum dates
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- Опубліковано 1 чер 2024
- 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ── yay!! another dark academia playlist! finally lol. enjoy this and remember to take care of yourselves! love you all lots!
𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎𝐅𝐈! ko-fi.com/oliviaalee
( WITH RAIN SOUND EFFECTS )
𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 ── open.spotify.com/playlist/1iz...
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐒
0:00 love dream; liszt
5:50 serenade for strings
12:26 Camille introduction
21:04 noturro 4
24:08 pavane for a dead princess; ravel
31:43 swan lake act ii op.20; tchaikovsky
34:43 waltz in no.9 a flat major; chopin
39:51 debussy deux arabesque
45:21 reverie
49:47 quiet resource
53:15 streams
55:30 piano concerto no. II andante
𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ── oliviaalee.carrd.co
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 ── I do not own or claim to own any pictures or music in this video - Фільми й анімація
Pov: A vampire is looking at the painting of his lover in a museum.
This might be the best thing I’ve ever read :,)
Beautiful
@@marianaguerrero2654 making an au about this thanks for the idea
can I make a book about this omg
Mona lisa
oh to run around the museum holding pinkies like children and forget about this stupid town were in.
I THOUGHT YOU SAID PICKLES, BYE-
wait i actually did this with my (then) my boyfriend in the museum last year.. we hold pinkies because i was still shy to hold hands hahah..
wait a year ago? man..sorry i forgot it's not 2020, i meant november 2019
ferris bueller omg
@@adrianamontelongo9632 imagine seeing a couple holding pickles in the museum lmaooo
POV: You're watching the painting about people watching a painting, but you don't notice that the real painting being watched is you.
I had a stroke reading this
Bruh
I had goosebumps
Flrt still thank you ☺️
Holy shit lol
A toast for us, the dreamers.
@Mars Dadu Cheers, now onto the next thought that will make us fall for an imaginary man/woman we were waltzing with
🥂
Cheers,dreamers!
🥂
I'll drink to that *clink* 🍻
To us, indeed! To the dreamers! 🥂❤️
Those people who write POVs in the comments are literally the pillars that hold this world together. Bless you all!!
Awww that's the cutest thing Ty :)
they really are
I just wrote one!
Exactly they have such talent!
I can't tell if you are sarcastic or not but I love the enthousiasm!
POV: you were supposed to be studying, so you decided to put this playlist to concentrate. No lyrics, nor video, this should work right? But you forgot that classical music speaks directly to your soul so now you're listening to the music thinking about the boyfriend you never had instead of studying. Mission failed. (On the bright side, you might have found the best comments section ever.)
why do you have to call me out like that
so accurate
Why did you expose me like that-
wtf this is me rn
👏👏👏👍🎹🎹🎹🎹
God I hope my soulmate listens to dark academia playlists
zzzdxd$__z$
Well I do 😂😂😂
Yeah! Me too :)
YES
Yesss
“hey, come look at this one.” he’s standing infront of an oil painting, stars as bright your eyes. He admires it and says, “it reminds me of you.” puzzled, you ask him why. “It’s you. It’s you all over.” (Now, as the writer, i ask you to close your eyes and think about yourself, in your full glory. Then, attempt to create a picture with this, and imagine painting this masterpiece. This story was made for you, and only you.)
Hey darling friend thank you so much 🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈 please take a look at my dance funny joyful luxurious videos 💗🌈🇮🇹💞💖
I'm waiting the person who takes me to a date in a museum and after we go an old library and finally an old coffee shop
SAMEEEEE
You described my perfect date 😭
Omg, we're all waiting for the same person ı guess.
let me take u out then
I was all for it until starbucks...
POV : two people are looking at the same painting together. They are deeply mesmerized by the hand gestures and pose of the two people in the painting. They both felt like they were somehow connected to this painting.
“They both look so happy together.” Both of them thought .
Without knowing two of these strangers were the man and women in their past lives.
WOOOW I GOT CHILLS
Omg that is soo good
this would be a good fanfic to write ngl
Oh fork
duhhh that was cool
"And you're called Death?" I asked him.
"I can confirm only if you dance with me for the rest of the night," he answered with a cute smirk.
So we danced all night. We danced till I fell asleep. I haven't woken up since.
holyshit this s gold
MY JAW DROPPED
i recognize this quote from somewhere but I can't remember where :(
@@estevaoduarte9529 i wrote it by myself haha but i picked up emily dickinson's way of referring to death as a person :3
That's tragic
i love these comments. i feel like I've finally found my kind of people, so relatable. Sounds like we're all just a bunch of hopeless dreamers who love to romanticize this world when reality becomes much too dull for us
Dude dude oh my gosh I found a conan stan in this channel jmhsjsjej
@@daniellapereira516 OMG YES AAAA HII I'm a conan stan!!😁
@@irenemc9528 telepathy just came out ahhhhsh
Here here! Although I wouldn't say that we "romanticize" the world, the world is already beautiful, it's everyone else who isn't able to appreciate it. ; )
still waiting to meet a girl like this in my life …
POV: as you walk through the marble halls of the museum you wind up in a small chamber. It has only one painting. You walk up to it and admire it. A girl in Victorian dress, holding a book. Something is not right, and as you stare longer you realize: the girl looks strangely like you
EDIT: this got way more attention than I thought it would, so thank you to everyone who read this whole thing I love you all
I LOVE THIS !!!
This gave me literal chills
I suddenly remember "I love you since 1892", love this comment!!
Omggg I this is beautiful
I know I am a bit effeminate, but that's going too far.
Pov: you can't tolerate your online class but you need the attendance
Lmao the only pov I can relate to
yep, currently dying in math rn
pls ive never related to a comment more in my entire life
Yea, I'am in math class right now
This is a callout
She's an architect, quite knowledgeable about art history, and you, to impress her on a date to the local art museum, studied volumes of art history and art appreciation.
When there, rushing in after a sudden mood swing of February, you realize you should've studied eye anatomy, perfume chemistry, lipstick color physics, or just how to endure so much beauty being poured into your senses, or how, by God, to endure the contingency of your bond with her, or the eventual certain fadeness of her beauty.
Maybe you should've learned to paint, so you could eternalize her beauty as it deservses: in a hanged painting in a fancy art museum to be seen in mid February.
You deserve every fiber of beauty in the world just for this Adel W. This, is beautiful..
@@nia.r5988 That's too kind, I wish you the same, thank you!
POV: You're sitting alone in the museum again. Not that being alone has ever bothered you, you kind of like the solitude, the smell of times long gone, the feeling of history. You sit under your favourite painting. The woman in the image is the same as she's always been: elegantly dressed, unfathomably beautiful but with an unmistakable sadness in her big brown eyes. 'Good evening, Gloria. Wanna keep me company while I try to figure out this homework. She, of course, says nothing. You're perfectly fine with that, because, truth be told, the world is too full of empty noise and too wanting of peaceful silence. Every now and again you mutter a joke at Gloria or tell her how your week is going. She's a good listener, she never interrupts or tries to make your story about her. Sometimes you just enjoy being able to say nothing for an entire day without judgement. After a few hours, you've finished your homework. Whether or not you've actually passed, however, is another matter entirely. None of that matters of course; unlike your friends, your teachers and your family that seems to think your value as a person is a letter on a piece of paper, Gloria doesn't care either way. Pass or fail, she's always there to keep you company. You put your books and papers back into your bag and get up to leave. Before you've gone too far, though you turn to give Gloria a soft smile. It must be a trick of the light or something in your eye because you could almost swear you saw the faintest glimmer of a smile at the corner of Gloria's mouth for just a moment
i've been thinking about a reply for like 10 minutes now
and everything i type just seems too lame in juxtaposition to the masterpiece you wrote
“shall we?” he asked. she intertwined their hands together. walking in the museum. filled with masterpieces. she headed directly for a painting. she feels overwhelmed. yet that doesn’t seem like the best word to describe what she’s feeling-unknown. that’s what it is.
she stared at the painting right in front of her. jet black hair, victorian gown, subtle smile. yet it still looked extremely beautiful. he stared at her in awe. “i wish i’m as beautiful as this.” she mutters.
“you are still as beautiful as you were in that painting, my love.”
I love this!
@@luckylila7775 thank you! ❣️
@@user-go1hr5qj9g do you have a wattpad or inkitt?
@@luckylila7775 i have a wattpad account! :))
@@user-go1hr5qj9g can I follow it?
Marigold was in awe as she looked at the portrait. A contemporary piece, an oil painting of an African King. The inscription underneath the portrait read: 1769, Chief Nyongo, son of King N'Dari Mutombhe. The painting was breathtaking, and incredibly lifelike. The surface of the painting had rough shades of blended yellow, red, and brown. The King sat straight, his jawline sharp, with a strong broad nose. His eyes were dark and held an air of intrigue, the chief possessed broad shoulders and shiny dark skin. His muscles rippled in the painting as if he were alive within it, his head was shaved except for two braids on either side of his head. He wore a cloth crown of leopard skin, encircled with gold, and braided pieces of beadwork. His gaze was heavy, and his hand was pressed tight into his knee against the royal robes he wore. In the other hand he held a etched staff marked with traditional patterns, one end had a sharp spearpoint, and the other looked as if it had ostrich feathers. Marigold was entranced with this painting even as the rest of her tour group moved on to other portraits and works of art. Milling about accompanied by low chatter and the occasional flash of a camera. Marigold decided to take a picture of the stunning piece and pulled out her phone. She smoothed the light frizz of her black curls, and patted her red and white fleece sweater. As she moved to take a picture with her phone, she heard a deep voice behind her.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The voice was heavily accented yet, still spoke clear English.
Marigold turned around the meet the man behind the voice and provide an explanation of her actions. When she turned, she nearly screamed plastering her hand around her mouth, dropping her phone in the process. The man behind was identical to the Chief in the portrait. It was inexplicable, there was no way it could have been him, the painting's inscription read 1769. But their features were one and the same. Smooth Black skin, like charcoal, the jawline of an arrow pulled tight, ready to loose. Full lips, and heavy set dark brown eyes. But there were subtle differences. The man before Marigold was huge in height at least 6'4, while the man in the portrait was sitting, and this man wore modern yet expensive clothes reflecting a rich Londoner. Yet the parallels between the two remained the same, striking.
Marigold stammered. "I-I-I was merely going to take a picture." She spat the words out. The man moved forwards, chuckling a deep laugh full of bass.
"I did not mean to frighten you, I offer my apologies. The painting is rather sensitive, and flash could expose it to harsh elements and deterioration at a faster rate."
"
"Oh, well then I am sorry as well. Your apology is accepted. Who are you?" Marigold asked.
"My name is Go, I frequent this museum quite a bit. Some days it feels as if I could never leave." Go said, a dark expression clouding his face.
"I only ask--" Marigold began before she pondered her thoughts carefully. Would this man think she was insane? She pushed the thought away and finished her sentence. "I only ask because you bear a striking resemblance to the King in this picture."
"You are the first to notice, I must say there is little resemblance between I and the painting though." Go said chuckling again.
Was he playing dumb or something? Or had she merely imagined the resemblance? No, they were exactly alike, Marigold thought, training her eyes on the painting again.
"If you look carefully the Chief in the painting has distinctive clothing, labelling him as a member of the Ashanti tribe, while I myself am a descendant of the Igbo. Two vastly different peoples with similar features."
Marigold was still not convinced, and she turned around to face Go again. But he wasn't there.
"I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the museum and come again soon." Go said.
But Marigold didn't see him anywhere, and looked wildly about to find him.
"Over here." Go's voice called.
His voice was coming from the painting. This was insane, Marigold thought, she was insane. As she turned towards the painting again Go kept speaking.
"As you can see, you were correct. The man in the painting and I are one and the same. I am Prince Nyongo Mutombhe, a Chieftain of the Ashanti tribe. My portrait is infused with the ashes of my body, forever tying me to this strange place."
Marigold was shocked, dumbfounded by the startling revelation. Speechless, she moved to touch the painting.
"Please enjoy your visit to the museum and come again soon. I will await your return." Nyongo said, before his face stopped moving, paused once again within the painting abound with life. This time his gaze was no longer heavy, and instead a small chuckle was frozen on his lips.
Marigold took a step back, and continued on with the exhibits to catch up with her tour group. But as she walked away, she felt the burning sensation of eyes, watching her on her neck. What a wild day.
A Prince within a Painting. She'd have to make plans to visit again soon, while she was still in London.
"A Prince within a Painting."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FIN - PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK! Wattpad: refinedobsidian
i see you in every comment section of olivia's videos... and you never disappoint
YOU DESERVE AN AWARD GIRL 💞😳
That is some masterful writing skills
Liszt ended exactly when I finished this piece, it was most satisfying. Thank you for this
@@claudiaj.7011 Hahah thanks, I try but sometimes I write too much ( a whole chapter) and I get buried by all the other quick short comments. This happened to me on the Pride & Prejudice playlist, and that was one of my best shorts! Thanks for the recognition!
POV: You walk through the galleries alone, wistfully gazing at the paintings as you drift. The idea of the beauty and emotion captured on the canvases being created from a few simple brushstrokes seems unfathomable. For how can one portray life in a way that is so natural yet otherworldly?
As you walk you find yourself in front of a painting of a castle, old yet full of life and warmth. The home sits on a grassy hill facing a quiet sea, its meadows filled with flowers and fruit trees you can almost smell. You sit on a nearby bench, gazing into the welcoming world. Something about this particular painting just seems to sooth your soul and you begin to fall into an almost lucid state of imagination.
You are shaken from your indulgent thoughts as you notice a voice talking to you. Sure the museum is closing, you turn to stand. It is then that you notice the gallery is empty, save for one kind looking man in period dress.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, the Duke requests your presence in the parlor."
Uncertain of what the man means, you turn to look around, your eyes landing on a gilded mirror. A golden crowned royal stares back at you. As you begin to follow behind the man, you realize that perhaps it is not your imagination that is so vivid, but your memories.
Bro this is so good
@@annamariaC. thank you! 😊
That is amazing, beautifully written ❤❤
@@joshuahatton5541 thank you!!!
title: a classical dark academia playlist for art museum dates
aka: a classical dark academia playlist for wishing you could go on a museum date
POV: You’re writing in your journal and you’re scrolling through UA-cam to find something that’ll help you focus. Then you find this masterpiece. You then start looking at the comments getting distracted by the other POVs.
Edit: Thank You for the likes.
bruh me rn-
@S. Weasley I was once that person. (I still am)
How did u know.. i-
bruh u legit just described it PERFECTLY
are u staking me or what
How to feel more DA from the comfort of your own home:
> Touch up any makeup or put on some of your finest red lipstick
> Light a candle & put it on a windowsil (or anywhere it won't catch something on fire)
> Read something challenging during the day (Shakespeare, James Joyce & my boi Edgar for example) & something easygoing in the evening (Agatha Christie, Huxley, Stevenson)
> Make a cup of coffee or tea either in a delicate teacup OR a real heavy duty mug (it's impossible to look even slightly suspicious if you're holding a normal sized mug)
> Listen to antique records on vinyl. If you don't have a player, there are some amazing Spotify playlists to use!
> If you're feeling uninspired, change up your outfit! I always feel my lowest when I'm in my pajamas all day, so I will usually put on a pair of corduroy trousers with braces & match it with a spiffingly hefty blouse
> Style your hair- if you have longer (and straighter) hair, I recommend an updo such as a Gibson Tuck. Styling your hair makes you feel elegant & improves your mood heavily! Nowadays it's rare to see me without my hair up
> Reorganise/ decorate your space- even if it's just a little change, such as moving the plants around your room, it's still a breath of fresh air & allows you room to think about more permenant changes such as new paint or furniture
> Carry a book with you anywhere you go- even if it's just to the kitchen, this action will totally make you feel more book smart! A spiffing one to carry with you is "Schotts Original Miscellany" as you can read about almost anything, from identifying cloud types to commonplace Latin. Its super useful to have in your pocket- almost like a pre-written notebook just for you :)
> Practice a creative skill- like an instrument, writing or drawing. This improves your DA levels for sure
> Improve your humour to be witty & sarcastic! You can pick up tricks from basically any witty (or British) show like Sherlock or Doctor Who, & when you have sarcasm and wit up your sleeve, you aren't just unstoppable, you're also turning into that pretentious scholar you've dreamed of becoming! :,)
Not mine, you can find these tips on tumblr :)
LOVE THIS!!!
Sorry, but..."sarcasm"? Since you obviously have no idea what that word means, allow me to educate you on it.
Sarcasm is not simply witty humour as the general public sees it as. It's a sneering, snarky, or cutting remark, disguised as witty or ironic humour, used with the purpose of projecting scorn and ridicule to the target in order to make them look or feel like an idiot and/or hurt them emotionally. A perfect example is political cartoons and how they're used to make the opposing party or political figure it's targeting look like a foolish idiot. It is not charming or attractive in the least, and only amusing to those who think the same as the one using it.
The word itself comes from the Latin word sarcsmos, taken from Greek verb sarkazein, which means "to rip at flesh (like dogs)", because in a verbal sense...that's exactly what you're doing. The English in Britain use dry humour, which equates to good-natured banter; a far cry from hurtful sarcasm.
There's your etymological lesson for today.
@@angelus_solus Dude, this user didn't write the thing, it says at the bottom. You ruined the mood while trying to sound smart, just let them be.
I love you
You can find a digital copy of Schott's Original Miscellany on archive . org! It's really good :)
I watched her as she practiced through the window of the dance studio. She began folded in half at the hips, like a paper doll creased by a careless child. The piano began to dance away behind her, and she followed it's lead. She looked so soft and delicate and small, a feather floating on the barest puff of air as she rose onto the very tips of her toes and her arms delicately traced invisible gold filigree in the air. Grace outlined her every step, and she seemed to be walking on air as she tiptoed and twirled along a tightrope of duct tape. She gave off the illusion of soft, gorgeous perfection, and yet I could see past it, straight to the steel muscles at her core and the strength that allowed her to do this dance. No one but me seemed to know the blood, the sweat, and the tears that had plagued her past and given her a soul of diamond. Pretty and sparkly, but the strongest you'd ever meet. The music spun to a finish, and her silk slippers slid into an elegant curtsy. I couldn't help but to burst into applause, which caused a grin to spark to life on her elegant features.
This deserves way more likes. It’s so beautifully and elegantly written.
@@laurynstowers2601 awwww thank you so much!!!!
this.is.literature.
@@moo2546 awwww thanks!!! Y'all are so sweet!
This is gorgeous babe
pov:
“may i?” he asked, holding out his hand. i gladly accepted it, a small smile attempting to force its way through my lips. we danced around the glass floor, our bodies moving with the soft rain and light music.
“i must say, i’ve missed this.”
“it’s only been a few hours,” i laughed
“a few hours without dancing with you is a lifetime of torment,” he responded with a kiss. then, he spun me around. he picked me up and twirled me.
and we danced and danced until the moon had to leave and let the sun in, forcing us back into the painting where we had spend the last hundred years together, solemnly waiting for the night to return to do it all over again.
I will go to the Louvres, alone, with my headphones, listen this playlist and just walk and admire the paintings... just a date with me and be happy
Loneliness is not a bad thing or shameful moment, it s just a time where you spend with the person who spends the most time of your life : you
Normalize spends time alone 😊
spending time alone, loving yourself the way you deserved to be love, it is truly a beautiful thing
I love spending my time alone. Only if i lived in France i could go to Louvre and be all by myself
I did this. Not at the Louvre though. I got lost in the music and history for 4 hours and forgot my feet hurt. It was amazing
Having taken a weekend trip to Paris (and touring the Louvre) all on my lonesome- It's definitely worth the experience~ I think it was the most peaceful few days of my life.
POV: Once again you come to read the POVs to distract yourself from your empty and arbitrary existence
i-
Shhhh don't call me out like that 👀
ouch
that hit hard
That's my everyday life
Easy there son
"look at this paint" she said with a smile on her face and eyes full of love
"i wish some day someone would look at me the way they do in art pieces" she continued saying in a soft whishper
"someone already does" he said looking only at her.
POV: An ad disrupts your peaceful trance with great consumerism ferocity.
I think this is the best comment so far
This comment - I love it
POV: you’re telling your childhood friend you love them.
It’s raining again. Every time you work up the courage to tell him how you feel, it rains. You hope it’s not a bad sign.
You’re both walking the halls of a museum, his favorite. It’s filled with portraits of dukes and duchesses, princes and princesses, shepherds and maidens. Love fills the walls and as you walk side by side, you can’t help but steal glances at him.
You’d walk with him anywhere. He doesn’t know that. It’s been burning in the back of your mind for months, years, how you miss his laughter when he’s not there, how his friendly touch sends a trail of shooting stars through your body, how looking into his eyes makes you see things you don’t understand.
You wish you could deny the feelings but they’re too clear to be untrue. You love him. Maybe you always have.
You both stop in front of a portrait of a young girl dancing with her lover. It’s late, so you two are the only ones left in this part of the museum.
Friend: “And this was made by Capaldi, a great Russian painter. He used primarily downward strokes to create this effect” he says, gesturing at the painting.
But you’re looking at him. When he realizes you aren’t answering, he turns towards you, concern in his eyes.
Friend: “what’s wrong?”
You: “I... I... I don’t think I can tell you. You might be mad at me.”
Your friend steps closer, peering into your eyes.
Friend: “I could never be mad at you.” He takes your hands and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Tell me.”
You take a deep breath.
You: “I love you.”
He stares at you, not moving. The quiet museum seems to become even quieter, the rain pattering hard against the roof like small footsteps.
You rush to finish before he can say anything.
“I know it’s random, and you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to do anything, I promise.”
You pull your hands from his and turn away. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you more than I’ve ever cared for anyone. I’ve tried to deny it but I can’t and I’m sorry.”
You feel tears start to spill from your eyes as you realize he isn’t responding.
“I know you’re mad, and I understand, but you’re leaving in a few weeks and I wanted to be truthful and...”
Suddenly, he catches your shoulders from behind, spinning you around. Your faces are nose to nose, his hands soft around your arms.
His eyes are also full of tears as you stare at each other.
Friend: “ I’ve loved you my whole life, darling. I never expected you to feel the same way.”
You gasp. “Really?” You bring your hand up to his cheek, staring deeply into those eyes you know so well.
Friend: “Really.”
His smile lights up his face as he presses his lips agains yours, the painting in the background almost perfectly capturing the peace of the two figures in a warm embrace.
You guys are so sweet for suggesting I make a Wattpad! I went ahead and made one, @azaleatattoo. I’ll start posting stuff as soon as possible! 💕💕
OMGOSH YESSS LOVE THIS PLS TELL ME YOU HAVE A WATTPAD
@@chigoziemaryanne5493 I’m so flattered!! 🥺 I don’t actually but I’ve thought about it, do you think I should??
this is beautiful. I actually got butterflies in my stomach and i actually got tears in my eyes
@@joellezima3506 OF COURSE-
@@joellezima3506 OMG YESSSSSSSSS!! You go girl! I would read it.
POV:
This is the first time you visited the museum. You were never a fan of them since all you do there is act like old people and admire the artifacts and other things that are historical.
But you respected their efforts into making it. Although you were never a fan of museums, you were at least respectful to those who dedicated their lives to making it.
As you follow your art museum date around the museum, so that you wouldn't get lost, you pass by a painting that seemed to have grabbed your attention. This was a first.
The painting called out to you. It was a woman/man who held an organ, perhaps a heart? It looked like a heart. The heart was bleeding, wounded, and it looked like it had been hurt so many times.
"That was made by a famous painter. " the owner of the museum approached you with a smile. The man then proceeds to tell you more about the painter and for some reason, you were interested. But one thing about this painter caught your attention. They had the same last name as you.
"Grandpa" you muttered, suddenly remembering the days you spent with your grandpa. You were only a broken teenager who had their heart broken so many times already. You could remember him painting on the canvas every day as he would often glance at you.
Who knew that the inspiration of this painting was little ol' you? Just a teenager who happened to be lost, trying their very best to keep going even if life had hurt your heart so many times.
- If y'all wanna follow me, my Wattpad is itz_beauty
My hearts like 🥰😌💗☺️
This one is great
Ahhhhhhhh soo good
This is so perfect.
@@derpygamers1745 („• ֊ •„)
@@anandiganguly3086 ≧ω≦
THE FACT THAT YOU STARTED THE PLAYLIST OFF WITH "Love Dream; Liszt" IS AMAZING. IT'S LITERALLY MY FAVOURITE CLASSICAL PIECE OMG
“It’s not so bad, is it?”
“What?”
“Being trapped. The key to freedom that has been thrown away, diminished to dust.”
“Maybe when we’re trapped, it’s because we’re too perfect to rush.”
-Random thing from a book I will never write.
omg that's beautiful
write the book, my friend
@@natashafrankie187 Thank you so much!!
@@madalynorozco9119 Thank you!
too perfect to rush? nah you're perfect for writing this, thank you so much
Tucking your hair back you looked at the art, suddenly you hear a voice behind you start to echo in the once empty hall “Enjoying the gallery? You know they said two lovers died here.”
Not caring if it was true or not you raised your eyebrows and said “Oh really? I suppose they dance here at night then? “
Holding out a hand he said “Only if someone mirrors them deary, how about we test that theory? “
“There’s no music. “ you said with a smirk and laugh
“That can easily be changed lovely. “ he said hitting a button on his phone, suddenly classical music flowed out and you started laughing as he tugged your hand and started to spin you. Behind you there was two faint ghost dancing with you, both of them looking eerily like you two. But too enticed in the dance, you continued.
“Say they’ll find eachother in this life?” The spirit said to the other “We always could.” The other said with a smile spinning them out into wisps again.
Continuing on dancing you started to slow down as the song came to a close. Him kissing your hand you smiled and said “Theory busted. No ghosts here.”
“Maybe you’re just blind.” He said with a laugh leading you out of the gallery.
@Ingrid DALY I’m radio rebel 🙄
I got goose bumps
This is beautiful
wow this is art itself
woah you’re amazing at writing
Playlist idea : you meet the ghost of a former actress in a small movie theater, a tales of sorrow and long lost dream of greatness.
omg yessssss
@@lizzy5848 Thanks, glad you like the idea ^^
@Isabelle Wills A Dorian Gray inspired playlist would be so nice if it haven't been made already !
Hey....can you write a book about this? I would buy it so quickly. It sounds like you already have the aptitude for it just by the idea you shared. I think it would be a really important concept- but not just important; interesting and enjoyable, too!...Please?
@@randib.588 Your comment is so nice, you don't realize how happy I was when I saw it. I haven't writen in a long time and I was thinking about writing a novel about this plotline, I might as well try to do it ! I'll post the beginning here if you are interested. And thank you again !
Pov: You're frozen to the ground as you stare deep into the eyes of the man in the painting. His eyes are dark as his hair and his eyebrows are heavily set giving him a look of intense concentration. He is sitting in a dark room lit with a few candles. You step forward entranced with how lifelike he is its almost as if you step right through into his world.
Your hand reaches forward to touch his cheek you know you shouldn't but you cannot help yourself. The feel of soft skin reaches your fingertips and you recoil in shock petting out a gasp. It almost seems as if a smile plays on his lips but that cannot be.
It all happened in a moment his hand lurching forward grasping your wrist and yanking you into the painting with a strength so unexpected. Your eyes widen in surprise and you fall backwards on to.. what was this? A finely carpeted floor. The man's eyes danced and a laugh let from his rosebud lips.
"Where am I? PUT ME BACK!" You screech causing him to smirk even more,
"You stared at me so long I could only imagine you desired to make my aquantance. Do I dissapoint?"
"No, no you at just as the painting but how is this possible where am I? Who are you?"
"Please you don't know me? I am the Count Sorin of course. Here." He reached out his hand and lifted you to your feet,
"Here my dear. You should go." He presses are rose into your trembling hand, "Come visit me again." And with a flamboyance he twirls you by you hand and you are back standing in front of the painting unable to decide if it was real or a dream as you gazes up at his face. Was that a smile upon his lips?
"Y/N come on we need to go you've been staring at that painting for ages!"
"Coming!"
And with reluctance you walk of feeling watched. Was it a dream? Who can say?
You feel something prick your fingers. You gasp ; you needn't look to know what you're holding. A thorny rose.
@@arayasimms1607 oooo that's good
talented
I love this, please make more. You write so incredibly well!
This is so good. You should write more, I would happily be a reader
POV: You stand in an almost empty museum while staring at a painting of a girl in a sage victorian gown. You continue to study her features, her emerald eyes, soft jawline, and her brown luscious hair. She was so beautiful you couldn't help but compare yourself to her. You hold up your phone to the photo and stare at your reflection but quickly frown because you wanted to see something different.
"It's a lovely painting don't you think?". Your eyes twitch as you see a boy in your screen's reflection. You clear your throat and turn around to answer, "Yes. Any girl would be lucky to look like her." you laugh.
He grins and your eye's lock with his. You both begin to examine each other. He has soft brown eyes with light eye bags under them, a sharp jawline, a messy middle part, and a smile that weakens your knees.
"Well I think she'd be rather lucky to look like you too." he says.
As a chuckle escapes your mouth, you can't help but blush at his compliment.
"Is it your first time here?" you ask...
The conversation continues for hours as you guys stroll the museum pointing out different pieces and artwork.
Awww that's so cute! Really good too!
this feels way too romantic to be listening to while studying housing for geography
yes
I am studying the industrial revolution 😭😭
I'm literally doing geography homework and I just keep daydreaming help 😭
Haha I’m studying for a geography test on Western Europe
hahaha! It's the mood it puts you in! That's all that really counts lol
i didn't hear him at first.
i tugged on my earbud strings, pulling them loose from my ears. the music drifted out in melodious waves, the only other sound in the room a distant pattering of rain against the windowsills.
a boy stands in front of me.
"yes?" i asked, clearing my throat. my english was rather rusty, my words still ensnared with a mild french origin.
he was not looking at me. his eyes were gazing inquisitively at the painting i stood in front of.
"do you come here much?" he finally asked, eyelashes fluttering as he lowered his gaze to meet my own.
he's beautiful. clear blue, almost angelic eyes. delicate, poised features framed with tousled black hair that clings to his cheekbones from the rain. he must've just come inside.
he catches my staring and tilts his head, smiling condescendingly as if there's a joke i am to be excluded from.
"it is only my second time here," i admitted eventually, voice raspy as i concluded my examination of this stunning young man.
he produced a cigarette from his trenchcoat, eyeing me thoughtfully as he lit it. there was a challenge in his eyes.
"that's not allowed in here."
i turned away from his slouched figure, hoping he would leave me be. he had no regard for the well-being of these priceless paintings.
"oh," he said. "my mistake. would you like one?"
"no, i would not. i would like you to leave."
"i would like that, too," he said, eyes clouded with sudden sorrow that was obscured in his next puff of smoke.
"please leave me be."
he was quiet for several moments, eyes flickering between the painting and myself.
"why do you come here?"
"i enjoy looking at beautiful things," i told him brusquely, turning my back on him.
i could still hear his smile when he spoke, though. "as do i," he said at last. "as do i."
when i turn back to the paintings, they are gone. the room is empty, abandoned.
the boy has vanished.
I wasn't ready for this 🥺
Btw your pov is awesome
@@sanvichaudhary6685 thank you so much!! :)
I quickly imagined Lily Rose Depp and Timothee lmao
Omg u guys are so talented!🖤🖤✨
This is amazing!
Pov: youre planning out a museum date for when this whole mess of a pandemic is over, when you can finally stroll the halls of a museum, surrounded by people and the low buzz of chatter and can finally live life to the fullest. (Dont lose hope guys, we'll get through this :)
We did it I think.
Pov: you stand there in awe of the paintings wondering how long it took to paint them, then you hear someone walking down the same empty hallway you are in. They stand next to you, you glance at them but turn back to the painting before they could look back. They stare at the painting with a sad look in they're eyes. You both stand there for a while before you get the courage to say something, "is there something wrong?" You say looking at them. "Hm?" The person next to you says eyes still on the painting. "Well it's just you look kind of sad" you respond. "Oh no I'm fine, really, I just miss the person who made this painting, they were quite beautiful, and charming" they explain. "wow that's very, sad I'm sorry to hear that" you say to try to comfort them. "Thank you" they say with a smile on there face. "You kind of look like them you know" they say now looking at you. "Well maybe I am them" you say trying to turn the mood around. "Oh well that would be extraordinary" they say looking back at the painting, "it would" you say looking at them, then back at the painting. It doesn't seem to cross your mind that the person who made this died a 100 years ago.
the people who are writing these POV's are so incredibly amazing
imagine bein able to write like that✨
It's cringe
i'm waiting for the writers to flood the comments with povs i'm always so invested in those lol
same
Samee just waitin
pov: i come here bc my whole family is arguing and crying
@@jad3ry i can relate to that :(
same here 😂
Soo...
Since most of us are single, let's all be single friends and go to the art museum and then was can get some coffee and borrow books from the library. Just as a big friend group :)
yesssss
I would love this. I need to find people who actually have the same interests as me
I am so ready
Yes please
@@noodle4172 hey
Pov: You're a time traveler, looking at the portrait of a lover you had in the past.
I'm waiting for the day when someone takes me on an art museum date
same :,(
I went to a museum with my love on my 25th birthday last year. Omg it was everything! 😍😍
Why not take yourself on a date to the art museum? I know it may not be the same as when you go with someone else, but there’s no need to put off things you want to do while waiting for the right person to come along :)
@@taliap3231 of course! I go to the art museum by myself all the time, I've just always thought an art museum date would be lovely but I definitely enjoy going myself as well! :))
@@katherineraquelle1930 but thankyou💕
I can just imagine myself in a lonely museum on a gray, rainy day. Sitting, admiring a happy, colorful piece melancholically, when all of a sudden, a beautiful man sits next to me, and we begin to conversate. We spend the rest of the afternoon together strolling through the long halls. Before I know it, it's dark outside and the museum is closing. It's time to say goodbye...
Al I see is POVs everywhere of stories I want to read as a book, I’ve never knew lots of people were just like me😭😭
POV: You break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do you go for the vault? No, you go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As you're taking it down, a woman catches you. She tells you to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. You say no. You make love all night. In the morning, the cops come and you escape in one of their uniforms. You tell her to meet me in Mexico, but you go to Canada. You don't trust her. Besides, you like the cold. Thirty years later, you get a postcard. You have a son and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting. You tell Tiffany to meet you in Paris by the Trocadero. She's been waiting for you all these years. She's never taken another lover. You don't care. You don't show up. You go to Berlin. That's where you stashed the chandelier.
HAH YES
THIS
YES THIS
Dwightttt😭😭
👏👏👏
imagine having a date in museum, and you're like omg these are so beautiful, but then your significant one says, these all masterpieces... they are so brilliant, and i can't take my eyes off them, but you know what? the one beauty i will be looking forever is you.
and they get on one knee.
that's absolutely atrocious.
You’re in the renaissance section of the art museum while the classical music plays softly in the background.
Your love looks at you and points to a piece. You smile and run your hand along the golden frame.
“It’s difficult to think of this as a time in the world, is it not?” Your lover asks.
“Extremely. How could a group of people create such an atmospheric and lovely era dedicating solely to humans? Featuring amazing art and music and literature, it seems to have been a grand time.”
“Of course. Everything here seems otherworldly, especially compared to the times now.”
You two continued down the hall, occasionally commentating on a piece you particularly like.
You paused to examine a sculpture and looked over to them.
“We’re surrounded by so much art, though I’d much rather look at you.”
Your love smiled, but it was melancholic.
Of course, this wasn’t real.
A memory replayed over and over, for you cannot bear to let go.
So you sit in this museum, alone, with the thought of your love fresh in your mind.
wattpad: cascadingstars6
new wattpad: qoldenskiess
0:00 love dream; liszt
5:50 serenade for strings
12:26 Camille introduction
21:04 noturro 4
24:08 pavane for a dead princess; ravel
31:43 swan lake act ii op.20; tchaikovsky
34:43 waltz in no.9 a flat major; chopin
39:51 debussy deux arabesque
45:21 reverie
49:47 quiet resource
53:15 streams
55:30 piano concerto no. II andante
Tysm ❤️
POV: You are, finally, a successful artist looking up at your painting that you created of your lover. Your painting made it, although it is a shame that your lover did not.
wooow
POV: You turn your head to notice your love interest staring at the painting before them. You notice how cute they look when they’re not paying attention. You begin to walk away to see when they would notice that you were gone. The second you turn the corner they blink and seem to get called back into reality. You keep walking as you pick up on their soft footsteps against the waxed floor jogging to catch up with you. You feel their warm presence as their arms wrap around you. They whisper in your ear,
“Where’s my masterpiece going?”
Just a short lil pov. wattpad: cupidsbeloved
AKJAHKASHKA TELL ME WHY I BLUSHED
OMGG
omg. This is so sweet. I actually feel like i'm going to cry
THIS >>>
i can't ruin the perfect 666 likes .. i cant- i-
I see a couple slowly walking over to stand in front of me, admire me. Of course. I am a sight to behold, delicate, graceful, a capture of history, protected by an engraved frame. Every strand of my hair, every pigment in my skin, every fold in my dress is immaculate. Because I am immaculate..
I am perfect!
People come to see me! to tell me how beautiful I am! They come and go just to be in my presence for a moment! I am a the diamond in the heart of a ring! A gift to the world!
The face of an era! Me!
.. So why do I envy them?..
Why do I wish I to be them, standing with the arms of the one I love wrapped around me, admiring a memory of something that once was and will never truly be again? No longer protected by an engraved frame but free to smell and touch and taste? Free to laugh and smile and feel? Free to be anything but a painting on a wall?
Why do I yearn for this?
I am perfect !
Every day, they pass by and tell me how beautiful I am! That I'm a sight to behold, a capture of history!
But I am not free..
(A gift to the world! Me!)
I am far from free...
(The face of an era! Me!)
I am bound by an engraved frame.
The couple smile at eachother and embrace, satisfied that they have seen everything there is to see held by the engraved frame, every strand of hair, every pigment in the skin, every fold in the dress, they turn to the next masterpiece. The next memory of what once was and will never truly be again.
I was granted one wish in this moment.
I feel..
pain.
I want to cry..
but I cannot.
OMG😭
Love this!!!!!
this is truly beautiful !
@@manuelagonzalez1515 thank you !
@@cristy8294 thank you !
What a dream, never knew there were so many people with similar tastes. Glad I’m not alone, good day everyone
Do you know the feeling, while you walk with the one you've been in love with, through the halls of a silent museum? At first it is strange, awkward even, as you try to look focused and interested, but then you start to notice your surroundings. He walks slowly besides you, you can hear and feel his breath, his heartbeat too. If he looks at the paintings, you can catch a glimpse of his smile, he does the same when you look around. There are strangers all around you, yet you start to feel alone. There is noise but still it is silent. Finally you know you want to kiss each other, but you know it would be innapropriate and that makes you want him even more. So you stand there watching each other, yearning for a touch, and as you move to a next painting he touches your hand slightly. Then he holds it and you start to feel litte shivers everywhere, as does he.
Soo simple yet so beautiful
A playlist idea: "You've been kissed by death" 🤷♀️🥀
woah that would be dope
*Devil's Trill starts playing*
@@sherlindavid1636 lol hahahaha
PottAh
With Zdzislaw Beksingski paintings on the background
Playlist idea: dancing in the rain with your imaginary lover
Mood
My imaginary friend has a pet crow that lives in his hair and I think he's in love with me. Is that narcissistic?
It isn't narcissistic unless he prefers the crow more than you
Slowly dancing in the rain, cause you were never enough.
I can't. I don't have a good immune system.
your account is literally fucking goals. as a poet and writer, this helps me focus so much. and the AESTHETICS.
The painting was here, I could feel it was here. It was the same feeling when I was around him, that I was safe and that I had returned to a place that felt like home. I looked around the room, while I waited for the man at the Entrance to take my coat and gloves, and my gaze slowly wandered off into the already quite full Exhibition room. The light coming from the chandeliers was dim and yellow, adding an ambience of comfort and warmth to the already magical experience of visiting the museum in the middle of the night. Victor, who stood at the door in his suit, greeted me with a nod in my direction and offered me his arm. He had an expression on his face that I wasn't completely able to read, a mixture of pride, sadness and overwhelming tiredness, but he still smiled at me. We walked past the first two paintings when he began to talk: "It's strange being here without him. This was his place, his dream and I can't help but feel like I am betraying him." There was a short pause where I turned to look at him. "I know, Vic.", I answered and let out a sigh, "This should have been Monty, guiding us around his very first exhibition, not us, alone, grieving his death. He would have never wanted us to be sad." I could feel a single tear rolling down my cheek. Victor smiled sadly and wiped the tear from my face but I could see that his eyes were watering as well, so I leaned into the palm of his hand and closed my eyes for a second. "You were his everything, you know that right?" he asked and we continued to walk along the paintings. "When he talked about you, he was always so unbelievably happy. He always said that you were his guardian angel that god sent to save him and that his only reason of existence was to paint for you. That he'd been born only to capture the beauty in everything, in every little detail of life. Monty adored you. He loved you more than himself." I tried to hold back a sob but failed. Now the tears were streaming down my face and it wouldn't stop, however hard I tried: "But that wasn't enough. I should have saved Monty, but I couldn't. He needed me and I didn't see it." Victor stopped abruptly and stared at me with an expression of anger and grief in his eyes: "Don't ever say that again, you hear me? It was not your fault and it never will be. You were the bloody best thing that could happen to this sorry excuse of a family. The fact that Monty killed himself is tragic and heartbreaking but if it weren't for you he would have done it years ago without ever talking to our parents again or to me. You gave me my little brother back and I will always be grateful for that and I will always cherish the time I had with him even if it was short. He lived for you." His hand was still clutching my upper arm and the more he talked the angrier he got. His grip was almost painful and the fury I saw in his eyes frightened me. I had never seen Victor like this. He had always been the older brother, burdened with the responsibility of taking over the family business, a serious and silent man that had given up his dreams to make his parents happy. To see him like this, broken by guilt and grief, was scary and heartbreaking in a way that hurt even more than seeing his and Montys mother mourn the loss of her son. Here I stood, crying into the shoulder of a man that I had loathed with every inch of my existence only a year ago, until I discovered that he was as broken as Monty was. Victor was right, it wasn't my fault and it wasn't his fault or their parents fault either, Montys death was one of the many many things that were unfair in life. Vic gave me his handkerchief so I could wipe away my tears and we resumed to looking at Montys paintings. Neither of us said a word. We sat down in front of the painting, on a little bench and admired it in silence. I had been right, it was here and as I looked at the colours, the shapes and the shadows I felt like Monty was sitting next to me, smiling and with the hint of sarcasm in his voice that I loved so much, he leaned over and whispered in my ear: "Do you now see, why I said this was my best piece, little dove?" I nodded and closed my eyes: "I see it now." We sat there for what felt like hours, I leaning my head against Victors shoulder and him wrapping his arm around me so that we could protect one another from feeling lonely. After a while a couple sat down next to us and the woman looked at the painting and then at me, her expression getting more and more confused: "I am sorry to interrupt but, did you know the Artist?
The painting looks exactly like you. I mean the resemblance is simply striking." she said and pointed at it. I smiled at her a little and nodded. "The painting was his last goodbye to me. He was the love of my life...."
This is so sadddd... but omg this is good
This is absolutely beautiful. I love it so much.
What happens next, please?
This should be a book, like an actual physical book
I want his smile, but he wanted hers.
Beautiful......
How can one line break someone's heart so easily?
Loving someone might be a blessing and a curse and as for me I haven't felt love in a long time
@@andriuslblck6770 love in the romantic sense, or love in all of the possible senses?
@@lemon_boii1074 that I would leave it up to you to decide
a letter to a friend
i'm so tired, dorian. i'm tired of everything around me feeling so foreign and harsh. i miss london. i miss the gloom; i miss the slippery streets; i miss the musty smell of things wet too long; i miss the way you could almost taste the green in the green in the air, feel the cold breeze fill your lungs. i miss the cracked pavements we walked on, rain beating down on our umbrellas.
do you remember that museum we went to? do you remember our voices echoing through the mostly empty halls? do you remember how he strolled with our arms bound together, like soldiers marching to war, as you read the latin etched in to the walls? do you remember how a tear escaped your eye as we stood at the fall of icarus? do you remember how you held aphrodite's marble hand, ignoring the sign warning against it? do you remember how they kicked us out before midnight and we stumbled in to the lamp-lit street, loopy with fatigue, but truly happy?
because i do.
Are u alright?
no. thanks for asking.
ow this is beautiful and heartbreaking, i hope you're doing well
Oh dear if u don’t marry Dorian I will
POV: You and your love go to a book store to find some new books to read and later head to the record store from some vinyls. Later you end up in the cafe where you both get coffee and a baguette just to be a mysterious couple, after wards you both head home play the vinyls and dance until you cant breathe when you decide to cuddle and read your new books together
TODAY I HAD THE BEST EXPERIENCE
One day a year in my country we celebrate our cultural heritage, so since I had no work I decided to take the subway and go visit churches and museums with this playlist. It was just music, art and me.
It was magical! Thanks for the moment olivia!!!
POV:
You are walking through the woods with your lover, joking about seeing fairies or magical creatures. You two giggled but as you were walking you noticed a random door just standing in the middle of the woods.
You gave your lover a nervous glance but their eyes sparkled, longing to open the door. You sighed and opened the door.
Your lover grabbed your hand and pulled you in.
To your surprise it was an art museum, angelic paintings covered the ceilings and walls. Your lover looked excited, running across the museum with the brightest smile.
But then, you woke up. Maybe it was all a dream, but at least your lover was with you all throughout it.
beautiful
POV: you’re at the museum wondering and looking at all the different types of artwork, thinking to yourself ‘is this the man I shall spend my entire life with? To love him?’. Turning you can’t help but smile when you see him. His cute little yellow sweater that you made him fits perfectly! You feel like feeling blossom in your chest just by thinking of him. ‘I want to spend my entire life and the after with him, he’s my soulmate’
“Honey?” You turn and see him calling you over, walking carefully as to not distract the other, you make your way to him.
“Yes dear? Is anything the matter?” You ask, ‘’Do you enjoy the sweater?”
“Yes, and nothing’s the matter except that well.. I’ve been told that you made rather rude claims about something.”
“What claims would that be?” You get worried, ‘does he? No no.. they promised they would never tell..’
“That you hate Jazz.” He looks so angry
My eyes widen in fear of losing him, my beautiful fiancé! “No! I don’t hate Jazz at all! I love it!” I start screaming causing a scene
He stares deeply into my eyes, slowly the anger turns into understanding. ‘Thank goodness’
“If I ask this, will you answe me truthfully?”
“Yes.” I think of all the ways this question could be. All bad. I felt my hands fidget with my yellow dress, getting nervous.
He stares deeply into my eyes and I to him, I can’t help however know what this will be. A question asked multiple times in the past. Would it be truthful? I calm my nerves and think of my answer ‘at least he doesn’t know.. sorry my beloved’
His mouth begins to move slowly, my heart racing. Slowly and seriously he asked these 3 simple words.
“Ya like Jazz?”
This is amazing, it made me laugh at the end, I was so worried at first but I laughed when I accidentally looked at the last line
POV: the meatball from your meatball sub falls on the floor while you’re at an art museum and you are trying to hold in your tears and genius raw emotion
The sky was painted a peculiar grey, just dark enough to cast a gloom over the city, as the rain came down in sheets. The streets, normally loud and crowded, were all but empty, with only the occasional unlucky passerby hurrying for cover.
Some would regard this weather as the worst kind - not serious enough to invoke worry, but severe enough to cancel plans and make one long for sunshine. And yet, there was a handful of individuals who always welcomed the rain, for there was always a certain peace that accompanied it. She was one of them.
Dropping her umbrella into the bin, she nodded at the security guard, who smiled back, letting her in without checking her ID. There was no need to when she came as often as she did.
The museum, though never extremely crowded, had almost no visitors because of the rain, and the sound of her heels on the hard floor echoed with each step. When she reached her favorite sector, she stopped in the large entryway and smiled, regarding the room with keen eyes. The walls were painted white, adorned with grand paintings framed in ornate gold, each large enough to rival those at Versailles, and a skylight took the place of a high ceiling, the familiar grey sky showing through.
Reaching inside her trench coat, she retrieved her sketchpad, and began her usual walk around the perimeter of the room, pausing just often enough to let pencil glide across paper. If minutes passed or hours, she could not tell, her mind solely on the art in front of her.
"Ah, Caravaggio. An impeccable artist, though I must admit, I much prefer Rembrandt."
Nearly falling from shock, she turned swiftly towards the direction of the baritone voice, gripping her pencil as though it would be much use if she needed to engage in self-defense. Seeing that the man before her, though tall and slightly older, did not seem to mean any harm, she relaxed slightly, but still said nothing.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, it wasn't my intention. It just appeared that you were very immersed in your work," he raised his hands, hoping to prove his point. She sighed and nodded.
"No, I'm sorry for freaking out. I just wasn't expecting to run into anybody. It's usually empty here when it rains."
"Ah, and here I thought I was the only one who knew about that. I guess the secret's out," he joked, smiling warmly.
"Do you come here often? I've never seen you here before."
"I used to, all the time. It's been a while though." He looked around the room longingly before turning back to her. "Are you an art student? Or history, perhaps?"
She smiled shyly. "No, I'm majoring in psychology. But history and art have always fascinated me just the same."
"Really? My mother was a clinical psychologist, actually. Maybe that's why I prefer Rembrant; the expressions he portrays are just impeccable."
"No way! The emotions Caravaggio depicts are much more reflecting of human nature."
"I suppose I should take your word for it. You are the psychology student here."
"Oh, you're a student, too?" she questioned, regarding his peacoat and tie.
"I'm getting my doctorate in philosophy this year, and I plan on becoming a professor afterwards," he explained.
"Hm, it must be nice having it all figured out," she sighed, looking down at her sketchpad.
"Do you not have any idea what you want to do?" He moved closer, glancing down at her sketch.
"Not really. I mean, I'll be graduating next semester, but I don't know what I want to do with my degree." Slightly embarrassed, she drew a few more lines across the page, before looking up at him. He was really close, she realized, probably too close. Coughing lightly, she looked back to the painting in front of her. "I guess that's why I come here. To get lost, hoping to gain some perspective from it."
"Understandable. But, if you don't mind me asking, why did you choose psychology, when you most certainly could have made a career out of art?" She flushed slightly from the compliment before regarding him thoughtfully.
"Well, I suppose I always wanted to help people. More specifically, to help people understand themselves, much like how art helps me understand myself. But, I'm not sure if I want to pursue clinical psychology."
"I don't want to tell you what to do, so take this with a grain of salt, but if you don't want to pursue clinical, then you can always help others as a counselor or social worker."
She nodded, just as the security guard walked into the room, letting them know that the museum was closing soon. Nodding, she gathered her things and they walked back to the entrance, making comfortable conversation on the way. Once they were outside, she opened her umbrella and turned to him, smiling ruefully. "I'm heading this way," she pointed.
"Okay," he paused. "Have a nice evening."
"You too. And thank you, for the perspective. It really was helpful."
He chuckled. "I'm glad. If you're ever looking for more perspective, you know where to find me."
"In the museum on a rainy day?" she smirked.
"By Caravaggio."
She laughed, eyes twinkling. "I guess I'll see you then."
He stood by the entrance of the museum, watching her until she turned a corner, and, with a smile on his face, he raised his own umbrella and walked into the rain.
Edit: you can read this on wattpad at www.wattpad.com/story/256092265?wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=redscarsbluestars&wp_originator=vwv2kixCyseCxUt0EFEn8hdlsWaOx12vFAQmZnfjqR6oYEccxWTC3wOzjxIkyDwVmjzR%2FECYCFwj%2FG1Rm3kafeORs5GL9q0KXgdO0o3%2F0%2BJ43oLMIHghhpHnd8lZErKj
What the freaking heck this is Soo goog
Do you have Wattpad. say yes
omg make a wattpad story! this is so good wtf
Please tell me you have a wattpad
@@simplegirl8243 haha I just got Wattpad and published this there.
Here's the link: www.wattpad.com/story/256092265?wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=redscarsbluestars&wp_originator=vwv2kixCyseCxUt0EFEn8hdlsWaOx12vFAQmZnfjqR6oYEccxWTC3wOzjxIkyDwVmjzR%2FECYCFwj%2FG1Rm3kafeORs5GL9q0KXgdO0o3%2F0%2BJ43oLMIHghhpHnd8lZErKj
Title Idea: You're an immortal gazing at a portrait and wondering how they could've made your lover look so cold.
POV: You're walking on a bridge, in the humid weather, while listening to this playlist, thinking about the fictional character you love the most. You can feel his footsteps walking next to you, you hear his breathing and you can almost see the cold that comes out when he exhales. You can feel his pinky brushing yours as they walk across that bridge, and you listening to the classical music that makes your heart pound with force and you feel an inexplicable euphoria.
You and your soulmate are walking around a museum, listening to this playlist, while holding hands and looking at the artworks around you. You have all the time in the world, just enjoing spending time together. You don't have to speak, you know when the other one wants to rest a bit or wants to see a different piece of art. You know, after this visit, you can walk to your apartment, drinking hot chocolate or coffee, or tea, spending more time together. It starts raining, but you don't care. You know, this day will be perfect, spending time with your loved one inside the museum, and after that, at home, listening to more classical music, enjoying being with each other without the need to talk. And so, you'rd walking around, looking at these amazing pictures, holding hands and feeling safe and loved.
It is a foggy, evening today in the month of January. You hear your boyfriend's car pull up on your driveway. Hastily, you throw your coat over your shoulders, put on your favorite ankle boot with laces, and grab the umbrella in the closet expecting it to rain very soon. Feeling prepared, you sprint into your boyfriend's car. You have only met him a few weeks ago. The aura he emits is like a warmth you might find when sitting by the fireplace whilst reading a book and sipping tea on a beautiful afternoon.
"Hello!" he exclaims.
"Hi" you respond.
"I'll be taking you on a date somewhere nice, but I will not tell you where exactly; it's a secret" he says in deep, soothing voice.
"Okay," I say, "Can't wait."
He's driving through the fog making turns here and there. It starts raining. I look at the moon and the stars surrounding it. Oh, how lovely this evening is, spending it with him. Your boyfriend turns on classical music on the radio. You love classical music. You love how it can set the mood when you need it most. You begin to adore this man you call your boyfriend. The way he dresses, the way he talks, the way he smiles; it is everything you have ever wished to find in a man. The music he listens to on the radio is the same you listen to at home. You suddenly realize how many similarities you have with him.
"We're here," he says.
You all have arrived at our destination--an art museum. The art museum looks like it is deteriorating and abandoned. You all exit the car after it has been parked. You put on you coat and open the umbrella you fortunately remembered to bring. The rain makes the air feel nice.
"I hope you like this place," he says.
"No, I mean, I love art museums." you stammered. "I mean, seriously, observing paintings on the walls is a hobby of mine."
"Ah, yes," he tells you. "I figured."
He grabs you by your arm and gently guides you towards the façade of the art museum. Most of the lights are gone, only a dim light shines above us.
"Do you suppose it's closed?" you inquired.
"um, perhaps," he responds. "Let me check." He walks up to the front door and attempts to open it.
"I'm so sorry," he says apologetically, "It won't budge. I thought it'd be open."
He sounds so defeated. You're empathetic. You easily solve this issue.
"It's okay," you say smiling. "We can find a way to get inside. Besides, it's not like anyone will notice."
"You know what, you're right," he agrees. "Let's find an entrance. Follow me. I think I have an idea of where it might be."
He holds your hand, leaving you no choice but to follow him. A fence awaits you. He hops over and helps you up. It's difficult getting up with the rain pouring down heavily on you. The umbrella is no help. You continue struggling to get over the tall fence.
"I'm having a hard time getting over the fence." You say out of breath. "I'll just leave the umbrella here."
Now, considering the fact that it is pouring rain, the decision to leave the umbrella was hard to make. Soon after that, you guys have made it to the opposite side from where you were.
"''kay we're almost there," your boyfriend said, soaked with rain
.
A couple seconds later, you both have made it to the back door of the museum. With little hope of the door opening, your strong man shook the door open.
"Wow!" he yelped, "that was . . . unexpected."
"I know right," you comment. "What a coincidence."
"Stay quiet," he hushed. "We are taking a big risk. We have go in unnoticed.
You nod in acknowledgement. Both of you pass through the doorway slickly, doing your best to be stealthy. You guys are soaked with rainwater. While wringing out your clothes, your eyes widen in awe at all the artwork surrounding you.
"This is place is quite appealing," you whisper.
"I hope you are still enjoying this date," your boyfriend whispered back. "I know it didn't go according to plan, but I'll make the most out of it."
"No," you shriek.
You cover your mouth quickly, forgetting that you must stay as silent as possible.
"Sorry," you mumble.
"It's fine," he murmured, walking around and looking at the artwork.
The museum is eerie. It must have been closed for a long time, considering never seeing it being open for business. You walk up to your boyfriend and walk besides him whilst observing all the intricate designs.
After walking for some time, you guys both sit down on a bench staring at the most gorgeous painting. You feel a bit exhausted and rest your head down on his lap.
You sigh. "This has got to be the most precious moments of my life," you said truthfully. "You really know me well."
"I can tell what your interests are just by observing your countenance." he replied in a calming tone. "I really adore you you know that?" he questioned.
"Yes," you reply, "I love you."
He laughed and then smiled. "I was hopping you'd say that."
He begins to caress you head and gently plays with your long, dark hair. You feel comforted by his soothing movements. You want to embrace him. You turn your body over so that your back is on the bench. You use his lap as a snug pillow. You close your eyes as your eyelids become heavy. Suddenly, you are awakened by his soft lips against yours. You kiss him. He kisses you as well. You get up in a sitting position. Your lover reaches for your face and brings it closer to his. Both of you embrace each other and exchange kisses. Minutes pass when you guys finish. A noise in the distance startles both of you, so you run with him out the back door not knowing what made the noise. In the back of the museum, there are trees where you guys hide. You try to cover your giggles.
"Whew," your boyfriend says out of breath, "I wonder what that was."
"Me too," you say back to him." Let's stay here for now to be safe."
In the rain, both of you stand in front of each other behind the trees. You stare into his glaring eyes. You examine his unruly hair and smooth face.
"What?" he questions. "Something wrong?"
"No, you reply. "It's just that, I love you."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I am really inexperienced with writing stories. Please do not criticize me too harshly. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading.
This is amazing 😊
this is so cute 🥰
Oh my gosh, I loved this
This was beautiful my dear🥰🥰
beautifully put!
You were looking at this portrait for some time, the man looking back at you. And his face was so familiar, you could almost feel the softness of the skin. It felt like you knew those eyes. Perhaps, in your previous life.
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐒
0:00 love dream; liszt
5:50 serenade for strings
12:26 Camille introduction
21:04 noturro 4
24:08 pavane for a dead princess; ravel
31:43 swan lake act ii op.20; tchaikovsky
34:43 waltz in no.9 a flat major; chopin
39:51 debussy deux arabesque
45:21 reverie
49:47 quiet resource
53:15 streams
55:30 piano concerto no. II andante
Copying this here just in case some people are like me and never read the description area
Here I am crying, nearly weeping, because my grandmother used to play Liszt and hearing Liebestraum No. 3 (the first song) played so well just brings the flood of memories to mind
and in this moment, we were all we needed. we became the art. we were armed with swords brushed delicately in our hands, arrows splattered into our grasp, and our hearts, well, they have always been armed, not by an artist, but by our love. and we are willing to fight for it. (dramatic hehe)
You actually used the suggestion that another person suggested! See, this is why you are incredible!
hehe :))
@@oliviaalee a u d i b l e g a s p
You with your lover, walk hand in hand, side by side while looking around the museum. Suddenly, this painting draws your attention. you unconsciously dragged your lover by their hand until both of you stand in front of this particular painting.
Your eyes traveled through the paintings. It was a painting of Greek gods and goddesses and there's this one person or deity you could say stand out the most in the painting. You look into their face for a while then a realization hits you.
You look to your right to see your lover's face then face the front to see the paintings again.
They both look alike.
"Is it just me or does that person in this paintings looked like you," you asked.
"Well, it's actually me, Darling," his answer leaves you in awe.
POV: You’re on your first date together. You leave the cafe and it’s pouring outside. You hurry to find somewhere nearby to duck into and stumble upon a beautiful museum. He grabs your hand, and at that moment you feel safe. You feel loved.
Remember the days museums and cafes were open in Paris, and we had no money but love and time to just walk in the Louvre, going in the rooms that are almost empty, Like the departments of Islamic Arts, or the path that leads to the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. Or spending hours juste sitting on the couches in front of the tapestry of the Dame à la Licorne in the museum of Cluny.
And then a hot chocolate or a coffee, and then home to prepare dinner with your love. Those were the days when life in Paris was softer.
When I visited the louvre there was a huge line bustling for the Mona Lisa, and on the other side of the wall it was hung on was a beautiful, larger painting and I can't remember it but do you know what it is? Because that painting is very underrated. T'was 7 years ago now though so they may have changed the layout...
@@fullfathomfivethepoetlies6771 was is that painting ?
I was obsessed with it too, and came to visit him a lot !
fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Homme_au_gant
POV Masterpiece after masterpiece, famous artist to famous artist. It’s goes on forever it’s a repeating maze but with such unique features, I feel like I’m spinning into madness as I compare myself to these dead artists, but then I see you. Your skin is so reflective from the museum’s lights. Your hair glimmers with the aged dust in the air. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you, every feature is so mesmerizing, so elegant yet so sturdy and tough, much like the Greek gods and goddesses of the old earth. I dare not talk nor touch you, for you are the truest masterpiece of them all.
making me realise how hard piano hits
agh it is beauty
POV: Your one true love glances at a Victorian painting, losing herself in the midst of emotions dancing inside of the frame. You hold her passionately and whisper in her left ear: "tell me love, tell me which emotion runs through your soul as you abandon yourself to this painting?" Without a hesitation, she turns to me and looks right into my eyes. I can dive into her soul, as she replies: "my love, when did you last brush your teeth, it smells like cheese and garlic?"
Aaaand that's what true love is about.
rip the pov heheheheh
the time through the museum with your lover’s fingers intertwined through yours are like those of ivy vines with roses and thorns. the feeling leaves you in the dream that a life with real love exists, while the thought of betrayal and heartbreak roam around freely in the back of your head. in the midst of it all, you pull yourself back to reality as you and your rose stand in front of a mural of a house in an enchanted forest.
your heart longs to take hold of the house with your soulmate, although when staring into their eyes, you notice nothing. their eyes that were once filled with the same desires as you, are no more. even though your fingers are grasping theirs, and your heart cannot stand the thought of being alone without them, you make the final decision.
you let go, and they react as if your touch was nothing. your melancholy institution is true. they are a lost soul, and you’ve lost their love.
POV: You're a statue living amongst a world of people. You cannot move. You cannot talk. All you can do is watch as the world moves around you. This playlist comes on over the intercom, leaving you to your thoughts and emotions.
usually dark academia playlists always include the overhyped classical music, but im rlly impressed w this one. i havent heard most of these and they're really nice!
*Dark academia melodies possess an enchanting allure, drawing listeners into a world of literary sophistication and emotional depth, where every chord resonates with the echoes of bygone eras and timeless tales*
POV: Lights had gone out, the room left empty, except for the hundreds of meaningful painting surrounding you.
Each one with a different story, just like the one in front on you.
The one he made just for you..
You stood there alone in the massive chamber; feeling the chilly arms of your past gone lover wrap themselves around you.
Today was your 5th year anniversary and you're spending it with his ghost.
Your usual date; coming to the art museum waiting for him to find you. Talking without words and confessing your love for each other in silence.
He always did...he always came.
No matter how many years pass, he is still in love with me as I am in love with him.
Rushed and don't like it but whateva heehhe Wattpad xxyourhoeeexx ✨💞🦋
omg i love this
@@ava-jg6tf aghhh Ty! :)
This was so beautiful that it made me cry....😍😍😍
@@thekatelier1447 Awww thank you soo much :)
i adore this, you are TALENTED
pov: you're waiting for the writers to start writing povs so you can read them while listening
Imagine seating in a museum while the rain is pouring outside,and you’re just waltzing away with your love in the museum while hearing to this and just reminiscing about all the times you guys had.
POV: Its been a rough day; quiet, but in all the wrong ways. As your thoughts race through the chaos that is your life, you hear something. Music from a distant room calls to you, faint at first but then louder as your thoughts quieten. Outside the first raindrop of rainfall falls, the music intensifies and you are swept away on dulcet, melancholic tones of a music that sings to your soul. Peace.
imagine...
the revelation dawns on you; standing in a room, so confined by the others and yet, it's as free and alluring as heaven itself. canvases and thickened parchment whisper words and narratives no book could ever emit. no, the paintings do not whisper, they scream. but not in a pounding ear-drum type of way. it's the kind that emanates softly in some profuse way, the kind that nearly brings you to your knees at the sight of its glorious grandeur.
"they're enchanting, no?" you murmur, delicately tracing your fingers across the intricate lines and hues of colors. you turn your head, the presence of another becoming suddenly aware; in the midst of all the enthralling art, you'd forgotten the one who had brought you to the renaissance museum in the first place.
you take a step back, unsure why their eyes were locked onto yours instead of the paintings in front of you.
"it's funny, isn't it?" they mutter in a low voice. "much of europe never even encountered renaissance art, ninety-five percent at least did not at the time."
your gaze falls back onto the italian painting, rich and warm tones of color that pierced the labyrinths of your mind.
"most didn't know they were living through such a heavily inspiring period," they continue, moving closer to you in a way that makes your hand brush against theirs. "besides, a renaissance painting isn't the most beautiful thing on the planet."
you look up at them, eyebrows raised. "isn't it?"
"no," they say quietly, their eyes resting on your face, making your cheeks flush with heat.
"even so," you say hurriedly to charge out of the unknown waters, "here we are now, admiring such divine art. it must mean something, right?"
"of course it does," they say with a small smile. their eyes turn back to study the painting in front of you and in that moment, their hand closes around yours.
after several moments of quiet, they say, "adding to what i said before - no, a renaissance painting isn't nearly the most beautiful thing." their eyes catch yours again and you smile back at them.
i love this so much
This post truly made my day :)
This is so beautiful
POV: (WLW edition)
“Hey let’s look over there!”
She grabbed my hand once more and pulled me along, the sound of both our shoes clicking on the marble floor. Gosh, I need to stop getting flustered, but how? She’s one of the most wonderful people I’ve met.
As we arrived at the exhibit I marveled at each painting, each one, each brushstroke was meticulous and the light seeping from the windows hit each one perfectly; however, one in particular stood out the most. A painting of 2 woman dancing together in light pink dresses; However, something was off about it, I just couldn’t place my finger on what.
I looked back at my beloved and she smiled before grabbing my small hand in hers and positioning ourselves much like the women in the painting.
“Ahaha that’s sweet!” I smiled back as I glanced back and forth from the painting to her face.
“Do you trust me darling?” She looked down and tilted her head as she spoke in a sincere voice.
“Trust you? Well of course but...” I hesitated, “what’s the purpose of asking this?”
“I wanted to get to know these artworks a bit more!”
“Get to know? Oh well I’m sure there’s information and-“
“No you silly goose not like that! Here I’ll show you!”
Before I had the chance to speak she had grabbed my hand and we both charged towards the painting. I screamed, thinking we were both going to get seriously hurt in some way.
Somehow I found myself unharmed, but instead of the outfit I was wearing initially, a pink dress had replaced it.
YOOOO make this a story please vv
POV: You watched as another well dressed couple stepped before you. Seeing them made you feel a feeling that could only be described as anger. You’d never have that.
You would never have someone to hold
You would never have someone to take to a museum.
You only had one person and over the years you’d grown to despise him.
It made sense you’d been stuck in this painting with him for over a century now. Just paint on a canvas. Trapped like a caged animal
PoV: You are an immortal goddess and you are looking in art museums all over the world for the painting of yourself that your girlfriend painted because some dude stole it from your palace and you finally find it but they said it was a Da Vinci instead so now you're lowkey mad.
Pov: We walk down the corridors of the museum. We look at the paintings on the wall while he holds my hand. I start to shiver because of the cold wind on my face. He gives me his sweater. "Such a gentle man." I say
"Of course, my lady." We both laugh. He put his arm around my shoulder. The warm feeling of his arms around me, His scent still on the sweater. It felt warm.
Me wanting to do this but not having a boyfriend
Who needs boyfriends when you can have girlfriends? ;)
@@LampshadeDoggo Who needs to choose one gender if you can have both 🙃
If i had this kind of museum where i live. I'd go alone
Thank you for doing these! Your dark academia playlists are best I've encountered yet. This one got me writing again after a long writer's block.
I grew up with both my parents working backstage in theater the nostalgia this playlist gave me made me wanna go back to then and I thank you for that