Dezider Tóth (Slovak, born 1947)
Sheet music LXIV. Weeping (Lamentácia), 1976–1978
Paint on paper, 45 x 62.5 cm
Monterey Bay Aquarium
art blog(derogatory)
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@saidforever
Dezider Tóth (Slovak, born 1947)
Sheet music LXIV. Weeping (Lamentácia), 1976–1978
Paint on paper, 45 x 62.5 cm
𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 !
do you want a certain kind of ship with my muse ? check out the key below & send me a symbol to tell me what kind of ship you want ! note : my muse = blog owner’s muse / your muse = sender’s muses
romantic relationships !
💘 friends to lovers ❣️ enemies to lovers 💜 love at first sight 💙 slow burn 💚 skinny love 💔 exes to lovers again 🖤 on again , off again
familial relationships !
🌼 older sibling 🌺 younger sibling 👭 twins 🌻 friends like siblings 🍃 cousins 🌵 parental
friend relationships !
☀️ best friends 🌦 enemies to friends 🌈 friends since childhood ⛅️ friends of circumstance ☁️ school friends 🌩 friends from traumatic experiences
enemy relationships !
🔪 friends to enemies 💣 stole something from my muse 🔦 stole something from your muse 🗡 bullied my muse 🔫 bullied your muse ⚔️ family feud 🛠 fueds between mutual friends ❌ guilty by association
La Villa Sola Cabiati, Lago di Como
INDIE/ SELECTIVE/ PRIVATE
film and book based
John Blaylock from The Hunger
Vanitas (n.d. - Detail) - Adam Burke
salle des miroirs, palais de versailles, france
Alone. Yes, that’s the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.
Stephen King (via disangue)
Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie in 1983′s The Hunger.
The Hunger (1983)
David Bowie || The Hunger (1983)
Catherine Deneuve in “The Hunger” (1983), directed by Tony Scott
Sophocles, tr. by Robert Fagles, from The News of Orestes’ Death; “Electra,”
stare mournfully out of your window, for a duration of perhaps minutes, perhaps days
❛ the bloom of youth has faded. ❜
𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 - @karatsfew - accepting
He had only noticed it this morning. He had felt an unusual dull tiredness creeping through his body. In order to clear the cellars of his mind, he needed that perfect, deep Sleep. Without it, his body would be nothing; his abilities would be nothing. Why hadn’t he been able to Sleep? He grew frustrated at the thought and he realized he hadn’t felt this kind of anger in…centuries. Were those lines around his eyes? Were those lines starting to form around his mouth? No…his youth was supposed to last forever. This was impossible! John had heard the rumors of a woman who could help him. Miriam was doing everything in her power to try to find a cure to the virus coursing through his veins, but John was wise to explore every possibility, even if that meant going out on his own.
❝ LOOK at my hands… my FACE. I was so beautiful… ❞ he replied to her, his youthful voice growing hoarse. ❝ Countess, I’m supposed to be a thirty-year-old man. Do you understand me? ❞ he breathed in exasperation. Miriam had bestowed the gift of everlasting life upon him, or so she’d said. His vampirism was fading now. The transference of human and vampire blood going wrong somewhere in the strands of his DNA. ❝ What is happening to me? ❞