Birthday art for @sanjikunbb!
[Clip Studio]
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Not today Justin

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RMH

pixel skylines
cherry valley forever
Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
styofa doing anything
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art blog(derogatory)
ojovivo

blake kathryn

@theartofmadeline
Xuebing Du

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Acquired Stardust
Game of Thrones Daily
occasionally subtle

seen from Germany
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@iddstar
Birthday art for @sanjikunbb!
[Clip Studio]
i'm conducting an experiment. everyone who's from an english speaking country state your country, regional area and what you call the following images. i need to see something
I have decided to make a series of gifsets featuring Beauyasha and Graffitipunk parallels because there are truly SO MANY. The ultimate battle couples.
First up: Wiping something off of the other’s cheek.
HIII YASHA HIIII
[ My ass tried to paint a glass object… never again [probably a lie I’ll probably do it again] ]
Original Image under the cut
I saw a sign at a nearby village advertising a "veillée", a storytelling evening, which sounded intriguing, so I went out of curiosity—it turned out to be an old lady who had arranged a circle of chairs in her garden and prepared drinks, and who wanted to tell folk tales and stories from her youth. Apparently she was telling someone at the market the other day that she missed the ritual of the "veillée" from pre-television days, when people would gather in the evening and tell stories, and the people she was talking to were like, well let's do a veillée! And then she put up the sign.
About 15 people came, and she sat down and started telling us stories—I loved the way she made everything sound like it had happened just yesterday and she was there, even tales she'd got from her grandmother, and the way she continually assumed we knew all the people she mentioned, and everyone spontaneously played along; she'd be like "And Martin, the bonesetter—you know Martin," (everyone nods—of course, Martin) "We never liked him much" and everyone nodded harder, our collective distaste for Martin now a shared cultural heritage of our tiny microcosm. She started with telling us the story of the communal bread oven in the village. The original oven was destroyed during the Revolution; people used to pay to use the local aristocrat's oven, but of course around 1789 both the aristocrat and his oven were disposed of in a glorious blaze of liberty, equality, and complete lack of foresight.
Then the villagers felt really daft for having destroyed a perfectly serviceable oven that they could have now started using for free. "But you know what things were like during the revolution." (Everyone nodded sagely—who among us hasn't demolished our one and only source of bread-baking equipment in a fit of revolutionary zeal?)
The village didn't have a bread oven for decades, people travelled to another village to make bread; and then in the 19th century the village council finally voted to build a new oven. It was a communal endeavour, everyone pitched in with some stones or tools or labour, and the oven was built—but it collapsed immediately after the construction was finished. Consternation. Not to be deterred, people re-built the oven, with even more effort and care—and the second one also collapsed.
People realised that something was amiss, and the village council convened. After a lot of serious discussion, during which no one so much as mentioned the possibility of a structural flaw, people reached the only logical conclusion: the drac had sabotaged their oven. Twice. (The drac, in these parts, is the son of the devil.) The logic here, I suppose, was that no one but the devil's own child would dare to stand between French people and their bread.
The next step was even more obvious: they passed around a hat to raise money, assuming the devil’s son was after a cash donation. But (and I'm skipping a few twists and turns of the story here) the son of the devil did not want money, he wanted half of every batch of bread, for as long as the village oven stood. Consternation.
People simply could not afford to give away half of their bread, and were about to abandon the idea of having their own oven altogether—but then Saint Peter came to the rescue. (In case you didn't know, Saint Peter happens to regularly visit this one tiny village in the French countryside to check that its inhabitants are doing okay and are not encountering oven issues.) Saint Peter reminded them of one precious piece of information they had overlooked: holy water burns the devil.
People re-built the oven, for the third time. The son of the devil returned, to destroy it and/or claim his half of the first batch—but on that day, the villagers had organised a grand communal spring cleaning, dousing every street and alley in the village with copious amounts of holy water. The poor drac simply could not access the oven; every possible path scorched his feet for reasons he couldn't quite explain. So he was standing there, smouldering gently and wondering what was going on, when some passing tramp seemed to take pity on him, pointed at his satchel and told him to turn himself into a rat and jump in there, and the tramp would carry him where he wished to go. The devil's son, probably a bit frazzled at this point, agreed without much thought, became a rat and jumped in the satchel, and of course that's the point when everyone in the village sprang from the shadows, wielding sticks, shovels, pans, and started beating the devil's son senseless. (Old lady, calmly: "You could hear his bones crack.") So the son of Satan slithered back to Hell and never returned to destroy the village oven again—and the spring cleaning tradition endured; the streets were washed with holy water once a year after that, both to commemorate this glorious day of civic resistance when the village absolutely bodied the devil's offspring and to maintain basic oven safety standards. (Old lady: "But we don't bother anymore… That's too bad.")
She told us five stories, most of them artfully blending actual local events or anecdotes from her youth with folk tale elements, it was so delightful. She thanked us for coming and said she'd love to do this again sometime. I went home reflecting that listening to an old lady happily tell stories of dubious historical veracity involving the Revolution, property damage, demonic mischief and baffling municipal decision-making is literally my ideal Saturday night activity.
this is KILLING MEEEEE
"do you have anything else that might be yummy?"
Get to the airship!!
What's his alignment? Who the hell cares, my boy Wealwell majored in Reposed Standing
what have they done to us.💔
I like drawing sad so you all have to suffer with me. maybe I also just like making ppl cry 😈
...on another note: ARCANE WOMEN?! 😩🧎🙏
✨available in my shop and upcoming dokomi!✨
🚨 HYPE ALERT! 🚨
My new graphic short story Moon Beans is dropping THIS WEDNESDAY (20th)! It will be free to download on my Gumroad store or to read here and on Webtoon. Look out for the announcement next week!
Warm up doodles inspired by art I saw recently by Leo Leonardo Mazzoli
Language is universal
Finnish trains have a different diet
Little-known fact: although most people believe trains to be herbivores, they are actually opportunistic omnivores and will consume meat should it be made readily available.
Peer reviewed
I see Finland has solved the trolley problem
Some lies you can see right through.
Meet the player characters of Dimension 20: Cloudward Ho!
Marya Junková (she/her) - played by Emily Axford
Olethra MacLeod (she/her) - played by Ally Beardsley
Maxwell Gotch (he/him) - played by Brian Murphy
Daisuke Bucklesby (he/him) - played by Zac Oyama
Vanellope Chapman (she/her) - played by Siobhan Thompson
Montgomery LaMontgommery (he/him) - played by Lou Wilson
All illustrations by @caitmayart
SKY, INTREPID HEROES!!!
Y'ALL! I am SO EXCITED for #CloudwardHo! I'm thrilled to say-for projection art I worked with the incredible
@galacticjonahl & @domirine to illustrate the (multiple) skies we'll sail together :D Get ready for maybe the coolest thing we've ever made at @dimension20official!!!
💛🖤