#thepainterofstars

[myxcenterxstage]

Laugh until we think we'll die Barefoot on a summer night Never could be sweeter than with you

And in the streets you run afree,  Like it's only you and me, My, you're something to see.

Vincent & the Doctor screencap redraw ft. @thepainterofstars​ art by myxcenterxstage

[youwerebrilliant]

@thepainterofstars said: “Then we could prove that we're worth more than anyone bargained for…”

He gave a slight nod, his hands stuck in his trouser pockets. “You can. And you will. I can’t prove it to you, but I can tell you.”

[myxcenterxstage]

 @thepainterofstars​  [cont’d]

"Photographs are colorless... and everything else in reality can even seem so dull at times," she moved slowly from painting to painting, savoring each visual work of art, "You make the art almost leap from the canvas in mesmerizing fluid movement! And I -- I am astonished how someone can see the world in such vivid color...!"

He watched her as she scanned each of his delicately crafted paintings, each graced with swift, stern but delicate and thoughtful strokes, each face, though odd looking, was filled with character, with life. He fiddled with the paintbrushes still damp in his hands from cleaning, slow to set them back on the counter, and slip to stand by her side. “…Would you like it much if I painted you, Prissy?” he’d ask in a quiet, nervous tone.

Hands clasped together, Priscilla leaned closer to attentively admire the individual brush strokes. These were works of passion and dreams - with colors so bright they almost appeared fiery, almost wild. A Beethoven among classical artists introducing a new era. She grinned to the painter warmly, before her face of calm contentment turned to delighted surprise, her eyes averted demurely “I would like that very, very much, Vincent~”

[rudenotgingermadman]

“You lead, I’ll follow. But for the record, this is a bad idea.” ((thepainterofstars~))

@thepainterofstars

“You think so?” The Doctor asked casually, even as a swung open the door and peered into the ominous-looking building. Vincent had a point, even if the Doctor wasn’t on the hunt for a dangerous alien creature, the place didn’t look very safe. 

Not that that had ever stopped the Doctor before. 

“Allons-y, Vincent.” He announced, quietly so as not to draw attention from whatever lurked inside the building, before ducking through the doorway, armed with nothing more than a sonic screwdriver and overconfidence. 

[avdotyaas]

The dirty, roughed man stood with a chair beneath one arm, a bag of paints slung over the other, and a straw hat tucked about his neck by two draw strings. He held a small bundle of wild daffodils tightly in his right hand, which he offered to the woman with a soft nod of his head. "A friend of Prissy's is a friend of mine." he gave a soft, rosy cheeked smile- something like a Santa that drew lines beneath his wild china blue eyes. (thepainterofstars~ hopethisisok!)

When this strange man approached her Dunya was not quite sure how to react, but held her nerve regardless. She could tell he was a man one with nature and that soothed her slightly. When he extended his hand with the gift of wild flowers she returned it kindness with a smile.

“Thank you! You are most kind” she lifted them up to her nose to smell, they smelt wonderful, more so that any she had seen for sale in the city. Dunya extended her hand “Then I am most happy to make your acquaintance Mr....?” 

[myxcenterxstage]

❝ this is as far as i dare go. ❞ Came a quiet, nervous voice, his hand unclasping from hers, reddened fingers tucking close to his chest, while wild blue eyes darted back and forth in the darkness. He was nervous- and what man in his state wouldnt be? He was dirty, barely presentable- and somehow she meant to sweep him off to some wild adventure in the company of men and women who'd rather see to it that he's outed in the street than in their presence. (thepainterofstars~)

@thepainterofstars 

“There is nothing to fret or worry yourself over, friend!” The diva’s face was illuminated bright as the city streets of Paris sparkling at the night hours. And the glamour with which she carried herself was the same. But seeing her friend’s diffidence, it softened to the warm glow of candlelight as she patted the painter on the shoulder assuringly. “It’s simply just a little party with some acquaintances of acquaintances who I hope shall have half a mind to realize that they are standing in the presence of a great artist! History in the making!”

“Besides, Vincent -” She chuckled with her voice quieting, “You’re my chaperone ! ”