O espelho se parte @osjardins - Tumblr Blog

White goats - Lionel Lindsay - 1925 - via National Gallery of Victoria

É estranho pensar que não tenho nada a dizer. Que essa trsiteza sem tamanho é tudo o que eu tenho. Que essa vontade de inundar o mundo com os meus olhos secos parace que nunca será saciada. Amanha volto a ter minhas aulas. Nunca achei que isso aconteceria, pensei que acabaria com tudo antes, mas não foi o que eu fiz. Eu continuei tendo esperança de um não-sei-quê que não sei se um dia se manifestará. Essa esperança que existe em mim, é esperança de quê exatamente? Eu não sou capaz de fazer arte, não sou particularmente inteligente, atlêtico ou forte então o que devo fazer? 0 que devo fazer da minha vida. Sem um senso de obrigação me corroendo eu sou inteiro, mas do que adianta? Eu sei que não é necessário ser excepcional para ter um lugar no mundo. Há pessoas comuns, vivendo suas vidas comuns de felicidades e tristezas, de buscas frustradas e supérfluas, de viagens que não levam a nada. De adquirir conhecimento que não leva a lugar nenhum. Como? Como fazem isso, sem se desgastarem, sem perceberem que andam em círculos? Como vivem sabendo que apenas morreram sem que nada do que tenham feito tenha afetado em mínimo o mundo. Eu não sei como as pessoas pensam, seu exterior pode talvez não traí-las, pode ser que em suas mentes haja todas essas preocapuções das quais elas tentam fugir rapidamente. Não há razão para estar vivo, não há razão para sofrer, não há razão para estar no mundo tentando impedir o mal de se materializar. Impedir o sofrimento, curar o que está doente, consertar o que está quebrado. Não há razão qualquer para fazê-lo, simplesmente porque amanhã acontece um acidente, surge nova doença e uma pessoa quebra algo que era importante para você. Eu sei disso, sei da natureza inexorável do mundo, da impermanência. No entanto, o mundo parece caminhar numa trajetória difícil de compreender e esse parece ter sempre sido o caso. Talvez o erro seja do humano, que enxerga padrões onde não existem, mas talvez não seja.

#my writing #chaos #the world

yuumei-art

Happy Halloween! 🎃

More Witch Hat Atelier Fanart~ I suddenly had an urge to paint Coco's swirly hat as transparent, like water.

Not sure if Brush Buddy is happy to be safe and dry inside the hat or trapped in a hat made of water 😂

Here's a quick timelapse (sorry the quality is low res still, I'm trying to figure out a better way to do this since SAI that doesn't have a built in timelapse feature.) The full video recording is in high res and hours long. It will be DMed on Patreon on Nov 5th!

furalicious2

Minovember Day 4

dunmestuffy

yoshitaka-koga

コムクドリ

lekodeath

Vagabond

winnie-illustrator

#my writing #inner world #fountain pen

sarakipin

Portrait of a Nobleman with Fruit 🍎

towered

Here's what's in the book if you're morbidly curious.

“It’s too late to change your mind now,” Istok said. His voice was pure velvet.

Ewan swallowed hard, keenly aware of the blood now pounding in their neck, driving the chemicals of pure arousal thundering across every inch of their body.

Istok ran a cold finger up Ewan’s exposed shoulder, tracing the carotid artery and savoring the warmth he would never feel again in his unlife.

“I’m ready,” was what Ewan tried to say, but the only sound that escaped their mouth was a hoarse whimper, a sound of pure supplication.

Istok grinned, and in the fire-light of the bedroom his monstrous fangs stood out against the dark walls. His mouth opened wider and wider, inching closer to Ewan’s neck as that ice-cold finger became a forceful grip around their nape.

The anticipation stretched to forever. Ewan was held in place by magic, by lust, and by the supernatural strength of Istok’s hand. Istok took his time, this would be the first he had fed in an age. There was pride in his deliberate approach. This human was more than food, they had managed to breathe life into Istok’s long-dead heart. And yet, when the vampire’s fangs first touched that taught skin, all of those beautiful thoughts were burnt away by hunger. The puncture reverberated in Istok’s skull, sending him into a state of pure carnal delight. Blood was in his mouth now, metal and thick and so very hot. Hotter than Istok could remember. It was ambrosial as it coated his tongue and spilled down his throat. Like a powerful liquor it burned and intoxicated him more and more. He could hear, miles away, the gasping of his victim, but it was drowned out by the sanguine music of the spheres.

Ewan could feel their life force flowing out of them. It was a terrifying sensation, but somehow pleasant. They felt the cold lips of their lover slowly warming against their neck. The room dimmed to black at the edges of Ewan’s vision. Fantastic thoughts began to play across their mind. Impossible to hold on to, they showed Ewan and Istok in passionate embrace, ever twisting into new positions and settings. If this was dying, then Ewan was at peace. The room faded to black.

beidak-art

Weekend fullbody comms are open! 6 slots available, $100 each. They will be drawn live on stream this Saturday and Sunday (each day starting around 1 p.m, GMT + 01:00) Claim a slot via this form:

When the form is closed it means my queue is full, but I will post the info when open again! Terms of Service: First of all, you need to

beidak-art

Fullbody comms are open! 6 slots available, $100 each. They will be drawn live on stream this SUNDAY and MONDAY (each day starting around 1 p.m, GMT + 01:00) Claim a slot via this form: