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Today's Document
titsay
JBB: An Artblog!
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@mirajanegosh
Hiiiii peeeps! I am going thru a shit patch now and I would really appreciate some comms. Doing a sketch for 5 euros and an art for 10 now. I just hope to hustle every extra cent now.
Tysm🙏🏻🫶🏻
She has wonderful style and I love it so so much so If anyone is in need of commission I think it's a steal <3
Hello~
I haven't posted my art anywhere for quite some time and it's because I both don't draw much and got terrified of AI rampage. But i miss it dearly, feeling that i'm out there with other creative souls.
So to celebrate new episode of TADC here are our circus girls <3 I believe they would make lovely key charms ^^ Happy suffering coz ep 8 was MUCH and i loved it XD
Different Stories Resonate with Different People
I will always reblog this.
I once spent three hours scouring the internet to find this comic again, I will not let that be repeated.
@signoraviolettavalery I meant to ask last night if you’d ever seen this comic before.
This is one of the few things I always reblog when it comes round, because everyone should get to see it.
I love this one with all my might QAQ
Let me tell you this, i did not understood todays prompt by @inktober :o i was sure scurry means run/rush , not mouse? But i added one anyway xD hope you enjoy, it was a while since i drew my persona <3 #ink #inktober #animeart #animegirl #animestyle #promarkers #cat https://www.instagram.com/p/CjOn23UKzav/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Hello~! First day of Inktober and im already falling behind with time, strength and will to draw QAQ This year i try to use Official @inktober prompt list :o good luck everyone trying challenge this year ^^ i will do my Best to do as much as i can <3 i came back to my OC Jake *-* #inktober #ink #animeart #animegirl #animestyle #cat https://www.instagram.com/p/CjMDHTyK7fU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
With new tablet to draw i finally have new motivation i needed <3 soooo i will do my Best to post from time to time :D hope you have an amazing day ^^ PS. This smudged blob on left is original xd i created this new OC based on this xd it was experimental drawing to get a hang of this new tool i have >w< her name is Camilie <3 #animeart #animestyle #animegirl #originalcharacter #oc https://www.instagram.com/p/Chz-M7oKrk2/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Hello~ i finally finished present for my friend Usagi90 (on dA) :D i am doing my Best to come back to drawing So wish me luck <3 August and October were always Best Months in this regard for me :D Hope you have an amazing day <3 #animeart #digitalart #animestyle https://www.instagram.com/p/ChR3XLCKULJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Hello ^^ i did Art trade with amazing @ryssachan of this Lovely couple ♡♡♡ these are Her OCs ^^ i had a lot of fun drawing them and im very happy we did AT again ♡♡♡ enjoy ^^ #animestyle #couple #cutecouple https://www.instagram.com/p/CDgNbcFD-so/?igshid=1vw6bb1h7aaky
Hello~
Today i post fanart of Kate Walker from point and click adventure game Syberia~ Its really good, you should try it out if you can <3 Hope you all doing awesome, take care and stay healthy <3
Guess what~! I drew myself again, and i cant wrap myself around fact how much my style changed o.o I think i improved by quite a bit and im really happy about it ^^ Its just so wild to see how different my works are now @...@
Another Rusty Hearts fanart, this time with our lovely vampire Roselle~ I did it with promarkers, had ton of fun with it~ Enjoy :D
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
So this amazing writing got me in tears, but also very inspired~! I wanted to contribute to this wonderful story, so here ya have god of a dozen different nothings as i saw it with my feelings *-* Im not very good with watercolors yet but im learning~! ^^
I started inktober but my drawing turned out horrible. I wanted to celebrate anyway so here ya have Okaita i did last month with promarkers ♡♡♡ #animegirl #cutegirl #worldofcards #promarkers https://www.instagram.com/p/B3HEIOTIeh3/?igshid=tl7monl856kw
Art Fight 2019!
Starting again on July 1st is my favorite online artist event: Art Fight! If you have OCs, and enjoy making and receiving art involving OCs, then I highly suggest you check out the site and set up an account!
For those who aren’t familiar with Art Fight, here’s a brief overview:
Each year, participating artists are split into two teams.
The main goal is to find any artist from the team opposite yours, and ‘attack’ them by drawing art of their ocs! Your team receives points based on what you create.
Artists that receive attacks can then ‘counter’ by drawing an OC belonging to the person who fought them, or pay it forward by simply attacking anyone on the opposing team!
The official about page with more in depth information is located here! There’s also a video format for this information that can be watched here!
Art Fight is a great chance to interact with tons of different artists, get to know the amazing OCs that others have created, and have a lot of fun making art! The art you receive is also very exciting; you never know who may attack you! Keep in mind, it’s all in good fun and any skill level is welcome!!
The event lasts a month (July 1st - August 1st), and the team with the most points by the end wins!
My account can be found here, if anyone feels like attacking me! I hope to see you there!!
Heeeeeey Its sounds like ton of fuuun so i joined with same nick, come find me there <3
Hey~ lastly my friend introduced me to #afkarena (shoutout to @kastalagina) and i got addicted xD I fell in Love with Athalia design, but after reading Her story i see more sinister tone within Her. World without forgiveness and mercy is a cold one. Wish Athalia will realize it one day~ My ID: 13854803 #afkarenapublish #athalia #afkarenafanart #fanart #epiccharacter # https://www.instagram.com/p/ByR8niVIi6H/?igshid=8m8j9n92jleu
Day 6: Mine. This is one of my favorite characters and favorite drawing from inktober this far. I really Love her outfit and expression. Weekend is blessed time TM. #inktober2018 #originalcharacter #october2018 #worldofcards #artisticmood #animestyle #coolgirl #badass #weekendtime https://www.instagram.com/p/Bo4EFwzHtgb/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1kp3w9dnlnepu
Day5: Kohorta. Sorry i dont post everyday, my uni is killing me and im like Day late all The Time q.q why day doesnt have like 4 more hours ?! Anyway, hope you like my robot superb sunshine ♡♡♡♡ #inktober2018 #originalcharacter #october2018 #oc #worldofcards #robot #blue https://www.instagram.com/p/Bo1pisKnNeE/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1j8dq6ov9qetf
