Peter Doig, Figures in red Boat, 2005-2007
Not today Justin
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
DEAR READER
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if i look back, i am lost

shark vs the universe

ellievsbear
we're not kids anymore.
Mike Driver
occasionally subtle
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n
almost home
trying on a metaphor

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Peter Doig, Figures in red Boat, 2005-2007
twitter 🧡 PATREON
how i draw regents(more known as pompadour) the layout is all over the place, i hope it can still be understood. the hairline is OPTIONAL but u can use it as a guide of how the direction the hair follows
Finished BTS pencil eyes series 👀 Hope you like them!
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she guessed my favorite color first try..
but between me and u……. i didnt even have a favorite color until she yelled out yellow!! she was hella excited n smiling like a little kid. so i told her she was right and i havent seen yellow the same since, its in everything. i could probably live in it now.
Poetry Self-Publishing Project
All eight poems I have written are below; contest entry screenshots provided below as well.
[Artwork By OP] 너의 손길로 눈 감겨줘 어차피 거부할 수조차 없어 [Do not reupload or use without permission]
Intern
I knew nothing was easy in life but I never imagined it to be this physically as well as psychologically draining. My internship taught me how hard it really was to work in the medical field. Despite the demands of patients old folks mumbling encourent words, I found some other things to be more draining more heartbreaking. I witnessed the death of an eight year old taken away by a severe case of leukemia. The patient’s parents were bawling their eyes out and I couldn’t hold back the tears of my own and cried with them. But those weren’t the most depressing things I have witnessed during my internship. I watched a small boy’s parents wishing for their son’s death just so they could get the insurance money from his passing. I’ve witnessed fights between siblings trying to argue and win their rights for the biggest percentage in their inheritance. Those moments were the most upsetting for me. The shallow minds of human beings and their unquenchable greed for wealth and power, Fed. Me. Up. No wonder there were so many suicides within hospitals the highest numbers being the nurses and doctors themselves. They lost the reason to what they were fighting for who’s lives they were saving The will to help.
Poetry
“There’s nothing poetic about being empty.
The thing about breakups is,
it isn’t all about sad guitar chords or
lonely flowers
growing in hard-packed soil or cement grounds.
And it definitely isn’t about the black and white stock photos
or sitting in bed alone and staring out the window,”
A pause.
“Your point is?”
“Poetry is easy. Poetry is just
shitty things in pretty words.
Instead, breakups are really just about
oversleeping your alarm, which makes you miss your first class
and damn it,
that takes attendance.
It’s about accidentally ripping your shirt because it got caught on a door handle
and holding two eggs for breakfast so tightly,
they end up breaking each other’s round shell in your hands
and all you can do is watch and wonder just where
this unconscious strength of yours came from.
You see, I used to expect nothing from others,
so in the end
I expected the most from myself.
And with those three, damn words
that person managed to oh,
so easily,
break down the walls that took me years to build up.
With just those three words,
repeated like a mantra,
I ended up falling for them.
But love is a word used too much
and much too soon.”
“You know that time doesn’t wait for anyone;
sulking won’t do you no good.
We have literature next and if we don’t go now,
we’ll be late.”
“...I finally realized why
I never took a liking to literature or poetry,”
“...why?”
“Because heartbreaks and breakups
aren’t as they are written about.
Basically, they were just lies
that made things sound more beautiful,
when really, they weren’t.”
Chunks and Bumps
'Milk, Honey Nut Cheerios... ah, right, toilet paper. I need that for shit... haha, shit. Good one.' Brushing the blonde locks away from her eyes, Sunny Kim, a lame, awkward stay-at-home-and-compose-more-songs type of girl liked to keep her cupboards stocked at all times. With cereal and instant coffee. Sometimes, bread and jam.
'Maybe I should spice things up a bit and get white bread. No, I'll become fat and unwanted by the age of 30.' Sunny hummed a little tune she was working on while looking through the aisles. It was 3AM, no one was around to hear her meddling tunes.
'Unlike Henry, I don't 'work out'. I'm a busy woman with things to do, like...' She grabbed the loaf of whole grain and threw it into her cart. '...buying bread.'
The blonde did one last check before nonchalantly heading towards the register. She was placing her last item towards the cashier (who looked more than dead then herself at this hour) until her short attention span was grabbed by a loud crashing of cans. She spun her head around to see a flash of orange and flustered hand gestures in the canned food aisle.
"S-Sorry! Sorry, my good 3AM convenience store worker and... customer." This strange man's cheeks had a dust of pink as he gave a sheepish wave towards their direction.
"Damn it, Jim! You always making more of a mess for me. I don't get paid enough for this..." The guy behind the register sighed dramatically and continued struggling with the scanner.
Sunny observed the strange man with the orange hair curiously. His hair reminded him of sweet tangerines. 'I bet he smells like tangerines... what. No. Ew.'
Turning back to her goods, she handed the man a twenty dollar bill and waved at him to keep the change. It wasn't like she didn't have any money. I mean, she was pretty good at her job as a composer... at least, in her opinion.
Once again, her train of thought was cut off by the soft grumbling from behind her.
Tangerine boy.
Curiosity getting the best of her, Sunny turned and walked towards the man with the flock of orange hair, her shopping bags in hand.
Sunny could tell from one look that he was incredibly frustrated. He looked as if he could burst out into tears any second now. He was probably doing so internally. The blonde could tell that tangerine boy was trying to act like a well put together adult who wouldn't break down in public over a food product. At least, that's what Sunny hoped that the man in front of him was trying to do.
"Hey, man, you good?" Sunny questioned this, 'Jim', who was biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming and throwing the cans down the aisle, bowling-alley style. She couldn't help but jump when tangerine boy slammed the cans back onto the shelf with a bit too much force.
--
Jim blinked away his tears. He thought the convenience store was deserted by now, except for the grumpy cashier who completely ignored his entire existence.
"Um. Hello? Mr.?" The rough voice of a woman startled Jim once more. He turned his head quickly towards the source of the (nice) sound.
"Yeah? Hi, what's good-"
"Sorry, you just looked like you were having a mental breakdown and were about to straight up cry in the middle of the aisle. Do you need like...help or anything?" the woman asked cautiously. She didn’t seem like she knew how to approach a grown man who looked like they were planning to crawl back into their mother's womb. Neither did Jim, to be honest.
"Oh." Jim, the one proclaimed by Sunny as “Tangerine Boy,” blinked. "Was I that obvious?"
"Uh. Yeah. Sort of."
He squinted at the woman and inspected her, if he even could with this eyesight of his. From the blurry figure he could vaguely make out, the woman in front of him had blonde hair and a small stature. She had a... not really small but strong shoulders and was wearing a plain white tee with track shorts. Jim internally chastised himself for being careless of all days. This girl could be cute for all he knows and here he was, wearing a baggy hoodie and sweatpants.
Shaking his head, Jim cleared his throat and shook his head slightly.
"Well, uhm, I’m Jim and I… I’m looking for this and it’s just that I, ugh-“ he tousled his orange hair exasperatedly. "I'm looking for this sauce and I took out my contacts but forgot my glasses at home and-"
"Woah there, Jim, slow down. I’m Sunny, to put a name to this face,” she added before continuing, “You're blind as a bat. All this for some sauce?" she snorted but couldn't help the lop-sided smile appearing on her face. Jim wished he brought his glasses because that smile could have been cute... if he could see, damn it.
"Look, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life but forgetting my glasses before heading out of my good ol’ home is, well, nowhere near the stupidest but it's still pretty damn close, okay? And I don't think you're striking the proper tone here," Jim squinted hard at the two cans of (what he assumed to be) tomato sauce in his hands. His nose was practically touching the labels as he tried to decipher the blurry blobs of text.
He couldn't see a thing.
Wait. "Hey!" He brightened up considerably, turning back to the hot? not hot? lady with his signature eye smile he knew was endearing. "Help me out!"
The blonde raised a brow and took a step back, only to have a small (warm) hand reach out with lightning speed to grab her wrist. She looked incredibly assaulted, judging by the way her eyebrows shot up and the loud, “What the fuck,” that left her lips.
Taking the silence afterwards as a 'yes', Jim lifted the two cans he was inspecting earlier in front of her face obnoxiously. "Which one is the one without the chunks?"
There was a beat of silence but was broken with a soft... laugh?
"Um, excuse me? Why are you laughing?" Jim put a hand over his chest as if he was seriously offended. "This is a deathly serious matter. My sauceless pasta is waiting for me at home and I refuse to let their pure, defenseless lives be sacrificed because of my lack of ability to read labels at this time of day…or, well, night."
Contrary to his belief, this only made the blonde laugh harder. Was she choking or?
"You're... You're telling me that you look like you just heard news your mother died because you had an impulse to make pasta and came out to buy sauce, might I add, at 3 in the morning?"
"No, I look like I just heard news that my mother died because I left my freaking glasses at home and I can't read the damn labels."
The cans were taken from his hands and were replaced with another. The orange haired fellow looked down at it with a cute pout.
"That's the pasta sauce without the chunks. The other two were tuna."
Sunny’s cheeks were hurting but the dust of pink on Jim's face made up for it. The locks of orange hair flopped around as he nodded thoughtfully, trying to hide the fact he was downright blushing.
"Thanks! I'll go pay for this and maybe I'll give you my number or something. I hope you're cute,"
Without waiting for an answer, tangerine boy turned to the direction of the cashier-
and promptly walked into a shelf.
There goes being suave.
The Lover
I met him one night when I was alone and weary. He held onto my wrists and kissed them gently. I was a former shell of myself empty; emotionless. I was envious of the way he smiled, laughed, cried.
The most I could feel was frustration towards the world, myself, my incompetence. I wasn’t swimming nor drowning merely floating, only breathing.
But he ignited a flame within me I didn’t know I still had. It wasn’t love, happiness, or even a strong dislike towards his toothy grin. Rather, excitement whenever he touched me, kissed me, held onto me like I meant the world to him.
My friends were worried about him told me his existence wasn’t healthy. They couldn’t see how he was saving me from the ocean currents that could have drifted me away.
He has always told me that I only ever loved myself that I only thought for myself but that wasn’t true. I loved him so, more than I could ever love myself.
On some nights, he would hold onto my wrists and kiss them softly telling me he didn’t want this.
Didn’t want what?
Sooner or later, I started to realize whenever he was with me, I was soon left alone with hands drenched in blood. At first, I was confused. I thought he would hurt himself deliberately; worry gnawed at my stomach relentlessly. I was afraid that the blood on my hands were his.
But reality soon hit me, that the man who made my heart soar with liveliness was the sharp, steel blade in my hands, that drew lines down my arms like figure skaters treading ice and every time I craved for the attention of the cold metal against my skin, he was there with sadness in his eyes.
I had never craved for someone to this extent I was addicted to the man called pain and self destruction. Though I loved him and he loved me all he left were scars and ghostly kisses. And from the way his eyes glistens with tears, a pained smile forms on his lips I can tell he wishes for me to stop as well.
But I yearn to see him every time he disappears from my sight to hold his warmth once more until I no longer can’t anymore.
Nicolas Rivals
La Línea Roja
YEEESSSSSS
Another Word For
Was this a dream? Was I finally free From the borders made by adults?
My life used to be trapped in between thoughtless parents And good for nothing mentors Who thought they knew everything but truthfully, had a glass mentality. Every single day was a repetition of the same sun, the same moon. It was a cycle of school, home, or the web. Everyone lived the same life. We were pressured to be either number one Or to drop out. It was the survival of the fittest When it was to becoming an adult. I believed this island was different With different morals and dreams.
However, this island was becoming the same Like the world where adults used to roam. I wanted to play. I just wanted to eat. But their view points already become crooked. Some of us were already morphing into my biggest fear And the title, “Leader”, Made me feel like an adult. I wanted to become happy, strong on this beautiful island but why was I only growing weaker?
I was finally free From the borders made by adults But a new wall was built by the children And I realized This wasn’t a dream But a nightmare.
Good Boy
Truthfully, I was frightened.
I said I’d show them all but
I was afraid of proving myself.
I was afraid that I would stand asymmetrical
to this new society’s expectations.
The fact that a good boy
who grew up on music sheets and notebooks
was now surprising entire groups
frightened me to no end.
It was, at first,
a bluff to seem tough.
But I was one of the oldest,
the strongest,
the wisest boys.
I had a loyal choir,
who were much more useful than a mere conch.
And I really am
a good boy.
Truthfully,
I am still frightened,
but I will show the others
how much of a good boy I can be.
By keeping everyone alive,
by shedding the blood
of a pig,
by shedding the blood of anyone
who gets in my way.
Because I really am,
a good boy
and good boys deserve to lead.
BTS @ MAMA 2016 Appreciation Post
((This is for my own satisfaction because I’m very happy this happened and aaa))
Because one of my biggest joys in life is BTS and no one can tell me to stop loving them.