24.08 / not studyblr but!! i found some photos my mum took a couple years ago and they were super pretty so i wanted to share them!! good luck to everyone starting/who has started school; let’s make this year a great one!
trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature
Stranger Things
Peter Solarz
ojovivo
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Show & Tell
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline
cherry valley forever

Kaledo Art

tannertan36
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macklin celebrini has autism
AnasAbdin

Janaina Medeiros
todays bird
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seen from United Kingdom
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@rozete
24.08 / not studyblr but!! i found some photos my mum took a couple years ago and they were super pretty so i wanted to share them!! good luck to everyone starting/who has started school; let’s make this year a great one!
bela | 2 may 2017 ive experimented frequently with fashion sketches, but this is actually my first time posting one ! this piece was more for exploring the style on a digital format, but i’m looking forward to working this way more often.
they are coexisting, one and the same, sun and moon. their histories bind them together when the present tears them apart, and they always make their way back to eachother in the end.
20 minute sketch | 17 september 2016 more draft sketches.
20 minute sketch | september 4th, 2016 i’ve been returning to an idea that i had around a year ago, i hope i can develop it into something bigger!!!
20 min sketch; 21 august 2016
vichy, france
sketch; apr 29 + may 17. the wind will slip through your fingers like a sigh
haylin, w.i.t.c.h.
“it’s cold, but she doesn’t really care” and maybe, just maybe, i draw too much of aph belarus but tbh i don’t care she’s perfect
character © himaruya hidekaz artwork © moi (lulu)
miraculous ladybug; marinette dupain-cheng a stress-relieving sketch because look at my precious omg i hope i can get her skin tone right some day lmao
artwork by: lulu (moi) character by: thomas astruc
“ the chill settles on your cheeks and frost laces your lashes ”
aph belarus // january 2016 art (c) moi
pastel 15647 - #d1cde2
wiosna. dimanche. le 13 septembre, 2015. midi. a sunday sketch to procrastinate working. this is the first time i’ve tried to color any work since the summer. i can already see changes i want to make, so i’ll probably redo this later on. or maybe not. who knows. i got photoshop, so i’m just playing around for now. i feel- excited?- it’s hard to choose a word. i have a feeling this is just the beginning of another plot that has yet to unfold.
lietuva. samedi, le 29 aoüt, 2015. i tried a new style. i don’t particularly like it, but i’ve been having an onset of cravings for nyo!liet, so it was but an experiment. i have ideas for her.
And our love was a like a storm: powerful, ruthless, destructive. But we were together, and that’s all that mattered.
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We were meant to be wise after so many years bound to a changing earth, but instead we sunk to a level more foolish than man.
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The arguments had been getting worse for a while, but one day, we both exploded. I don’t remember what triggered it, perhaps a legislative decision that I’d disagreed with, or some political issue we’d stood on different sides on. All I know is that it was to trivial for us to break ourselves over. I wish I’d realised that then. Perhaps we could have worked it out, made it better. But we didn’t.
(( And I’ve always wished we had. ))
It was the first time that summer any of our spats had become so violent. I distinctly remember a set of antique plates, dating back to the days of the revolution, shattered to pieces by my own hand. You’d glared at me afterwards, so furiously that I’d wanted to step back and apologise and beg for your forgiveness. Maybe it would have ended better if I didn’t, maybe it wouldn’t. We’d never know. Instead, anger reared its’ ugly had and I just laughed. I think that, in that moment, I’d seen betrayal in your eyes. I’d ignored it, choosing to smirk in that way you’d hated so much.
But you’d committed your fair share of cruelties, no? You’d brought up my shameful past, countless time, mocking me in a manner I hadn’t seen in centuries. It hurt to remember those times, now long past. I’d been so gullible hadn’t I. So weak. So willing to do anything to be accepted. I thought we’d move past that, but seemed we still clung to the remnants of the pass, as I do now.
The fight lasted for what seemed like days, but probably was more like hours. So long we had waged our war that it would take days for the ringing of shattering plates to subside in my ears. I’d stormed out of your flat, bruised and bloody, swearing to never again set foot in the accursed home again. You’d just watched, your eyes cruel with hatred, as packed my bags to leave and never return.
(( From that day on, I’d always wondered what would have happened had I ended it differently. Would we still be so estranged as we’ve become now? ))
—
i missed your company in those cold winter months. Your constant business demanded you return to your own country, and I wasn’t in any particular position to leave my home either. I would have though, if I could. Only for you. In those early years, the letters were necessary. They were our only means of conversation in a world where the telemobile hadn’t yet been invented and travel was more hassle than worth. It hurt, waiting so long just to hear of word form you, but that pain gave way to elation as yet another collection of rose-scented card decorated in your elegant script was delivered to my door. I’d read them over and over again by the fireplace each night, my heart bursting while I read of your flowery recounts of each day, sprinkled with your unique humour.
(( I hadn’t had the heart to burn the letters. It seemed sacrilegious to desecrate something so sacred to us even after all that had conspired between the two of us ))
After the telephone had been invented, we now had the ability to hold those long conversations we’d so missed. But despite new developments, we never failed to send letters. It was a tradition neither of us would break for decades, and that was only after war had been declared. More words, more emotions, were shared within those written words than we ever spoke to each other. The meant the world to me, just like you.
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do you think we’ll be in love forever?
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For the sake of my government and its’ morals, I chose not to say a word, until one day, I just couldn’t help it. But you? You looked at me so wisely, so understandingly, the same way you had so long ago, and I, selfish as I am, engulfed myself within you. I think it was then that I realised I loved you.
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I still remember the first time I’d seen you in bed with a woman. It was so… different. I’d bedded before, and had been bedded, but you- You truly exhibited a love I’d never seen before. I wanted to receive that affection and luxury and gentleness. I’d stood there, unable to look away, as you’d cradled her in your arms, whispering sweet nothings into her ears as she entered the throes of pain and pleasure, gasps and mewls escaping her lips. And then you’d looked up at me, as if you’d known I’d been there for all that time, and you smiled. Your lips were pulled wide, their edges twisted upwards in a devious manner that resembled the cheshire cat from one of my tales. It pulled at my heart in ways I hadn’t understood then. I now recognise that chill, the name of which had evaded me so long, as jealousy. But I wasn’t jealous of you with a beautiful woman in your arms to hold. Oh no, I was jealous of her. She who could parade round with you by her side, calling herself ‘yours’ and you ‘hers’. That was one thing I’d never be able to do, no matter how hard I tried.
the child, pale skinned and rosy cheeked, has taken her place in that world. there is nothing left for her but sorrow.