Muse of Me

Artist. Cosplayer. Writer. So much more...

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Day 1 of Drawlloween; Vampire

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Day 4 of mabsdrawlloweenclub 30characterdesigns combined. Prompts: Mothman and Failed Science Experiment

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Day 3 of mabsdrawlloweenclub 30characterdesigns combined. Prompts: Vampire and Sun/Moon

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Day 2 of mabsdrawlloweenclub 30characterdesigns combined. Prompts: Goblin and Weather

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Day 1 of mabsdrawlloweenclub 30characterdesigns challenges combined. Prompts: Werewolf and Plant

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Who I Am

I’m an artist. Most artists are empaths. They feel everything. They feel what they feel… they feel what you feel. Emotions to the artist are like colours and smells… we walk into a room and take in the emotions like you might notice the decor or odors. Sometimes they slam into you like a truck barreling down the highway… sometimes they are subtle and soft and caress you… sometimes they rip your soul apart and remind you we live in a dark world. Some artists are tormented by this.. or even driven mad. Some artists turn it into creative energy and make it all beautiful. Me. I’m in the middle. When I share my work, I’m sharing my soul. Who I am. I’m quiet and shy. Most empaths are. I’m a loner. If you think about it that makes sense for the empath. I draw. I paint. I do natural medium and digital. I’m a photographer. I’m a writer. I’m a fabricater. These things for better or worse… are who I am. So if you don’t know me that well. Now you do. I will be sharing my works here over time. Personal ones as well. View them or scroll by… like them or ignore them… but these things are my soul and who I am. I invite you to get to know me.

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Release Me

The darkness pulled at him like an old friend, beckoning. He stared up at the sky, searching for direction. There were no stars for him, not recently. The wind was howling through the trees bringing a chill to the bone even the heaviest cloak could not repel. Eyes watering, partially from his thoughts and partially from the biting wind, he put is head down and stepped down the path. He walked on, losing himself to his thoughts.

He had opened up to her. Completely vulnerable. Shared every secret with her. He loved her. Not just a normal love, but a soul mate deep love. “She said she felt the same. Said I was the best man she knew, a hero to her… She called me her world…”, he said to himself. The tears flowed freely now as he gave in to his mind. Everything she said, every sweet endearment, every whispered promise. Her sincerity and certainty had made him feel special, loved, like he mattered again. Ghosts from the past laughed at him. Taunted him. “Nobody will ever want you!”, they screamed at him. She once said her being was to prove those ghosts wrong. He stopped in his tracks, trembling as his strength waned. Dropping to his knees. She asked him to come and be with her, so many times. She said she was his happiness and she was his home. She swore those things in the darkest hours to his heart. He buried his face in his gloved hands and sobbed. Pain and despair wracked his body. His love was written in the stars and he carried it with him for so many years. He believed her. He believed her when she said she loved him… souls mated… true and deep. He trusted her… her words swarmed through his head tearing his heart asunder and breaking his mind. He fell back off his knees landing on his back.

He thought a moment about getting up. But he just lay there. He had nowhere to go. He was no one’s world. He was no one’s soul mate. He was no one’s forever. He was no one’s home. Everything he knew no longer existed. There was no place for him here.

Yes the darkness pulled at him like a comfort… beckoning. Come rest. Release from your pain. Laying there looking up at the starless sky, there was no direction. He closed his eyes and waited, broken and abandoned. Come. Comfort me. Release me.

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Black and white study

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Gotham by Gaslight Batman on the red carpet at Tsubasacon.

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Solitude

Sometimes I welcome the darkness. The cool comfortable nothingness. Sometimes I welcome the solitude. The loneliness. Sometimes I welcome the chill. The numbness. Yes, there are times when I relish these... wearing them tightly about, like an old cloak. Yet other times... I wish to cast that cloak off and stand in the light, longing for companionship and warmth... wondering what it would be like... but alas, the cool, quiet, numbness beckons... and I am too weary to resist. So yes, I welcome the darkness... the solitude... and the chill... I quell the wishes and wondering and continue ever on.

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Living the Night...

There is that time... deep in the night... when you awake and the real things seem imagined and the imagined things seem real. Where the bridge to reality is dangerously close to being severed. The lucky ones never visit this time. Most visit it rarely. Some of us, though, live there.

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Why all the hard work is worth it...

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15 minute sketch of Link...

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Empty

The days are empty… The nights bridge the emptiness with numbess… When I gaze over the story of me, the pages are blank… I cast a glance to the deep shadows of the darkness… I sigh. The wheel turns ever on… I stare at the ceiling, succumbing to the numbness… Mayhap the dawn will break the chain, mayhap not… The darkness is here and I cannot dream.

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Feeling the burn… mile 17 on a 20 mile hike

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Minecraft wolf watercolor for a friend