welcome to die

bex • 21 • uk • infp • virgo • lesbian she/her female enthusiast

[valtsv]

me as a 14th century knight: this sucks i'm gonna fms (translator's note: fall on my sword)

[prometheus-let-the-fire-rain]

Alternatively: fuck my squire

[valtsv]

[remembers falling on my sword jokes negatively impact my knight's oath] ...fuck my squire

[thyrell]

Gimme a tarot reading pls

SHITS FUCKED !!!!!!!

SEVEN TOWER ATTACK ROCK YOUR WORLD FOREVER!!!!!!

[ginger-ale-official]

you are swagless it disgusts me

Sometimes anons cut too deep

[waterthedirtflowerslastforyou]

Sasha Gordon - The Archer, 2021 

Oil on canvas

[disease]

SEAN MUNDY / CYCLES / 2020

[entertheaardvark-deactivated202]

Absolutely nothing funnier than all of these

[internet-sentences]

[pissvortex]

court jester dick was probably insane

it still is

[hiest-moved-deactivated20190716]

johnny cash high in a bush eating a cake / johnny cash thigh high boots

[emmablowguns]

Miss thang

[dailyanimatedgifs]

AKIRA (1988)

[artist-bourgeois]

The Cross-Eyed Woman Giving Birth, Louise Bourgeois, 2005, MoMA: Drawings and Prints

Gift of the artist Size: plate: 13 3/8 x 9 9/16" (34 x 24.3 cm); sheet: 16 7/16 x 10 3/8" (41.7 x 26.3 cm) Medium: Drypoint, with hand additions

http://www.moma.org/collection/works/150713

[redlipstickresurrected]

Yoshitaka Amano aka 天野喜孝 (Japanese, b. 1952, Shizuoka, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan) - Rinascimento, for Vogue, Italia, January, 2020, Mixed Media

[roamingmineralsilence]

Garage: Bad Dream Adventure (1999) by Tomomi Yuki Sakuba

[willow]

sorry

[pinkarroty]

[selenevassos]

[cryptidunknown]

3500 years ago a bunch of people decided to build a tower to the sky and now I have to worry about keeping up my Duolingo streak

[hell-propaganda]

why would you blame the people reaching for heaven instead of the god who cursed them

[bunjywunjy]

add that one to the list, boys

[existential-celestial]

“When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. he sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamppost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “it is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it. When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting *interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest *academical* tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on. But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it. And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care.”

— Brenda Ueland, from “If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit”

[sweetdoe]

nothing else matters except this.

[ardellian]

“That same night I looked out of the window of my room at the roofs of the houses you can see from there, and at the tops of the elms, dark against the night sky. Above the roofs, a single star, but a beautiful, big, friendly one. And I thought of us all and I thought of my own years gone by and of our home, and these words and this sentiment sprang to my mind, `Keep me from being a son who brings shame, give me Thy blessing, not because I deserve it, but for my Mother’s sake. Thou art Love, cover all things. Without Thy constant blessing we succeed in nothing.’

Enclosed is a little drawing of the view from the school window through which the boys follow their parents with their eyes as they go back to the station after a visit. Many a one will never forget the view from that window.”

At this time, Vincent was 23 year old