❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
ellievsbear
The Bowery Presents
RMH
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blake kathryn
Interview Vampire Daily
untitled
Doug Jones
occasionally subtle
h
gracie abrams
bliss lane
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
YOU ARE THE REASON
Mike Driver
Love Begins
Andulka
𓃗
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@yksittainen
Jotakak week, Day 5: Fashion Drawing this day, I looked up to dance costumes which, in their turn, drew inspiration from oriental or tribal clothes. (and I just needed an excuse to draw Kakyoin in belly dancer clothes, sorry not sorry ) so I’ll either stop here or bring the remaining days later. There are some personal things I’m going through rn, so I’d like to have a break from drawing or I’ll break apart myself. Oops.
Jotakak week, Day 4: Roleswap messed up the schedule completely due to some IRL ruckus going on, still won't drop it and just go on slowly delivering the remaining days - those boys are too precious to give up on them :3
@jotakakweek Day 3: Crossover
a tribute to one of my favourite movies of all times <3
- Let me ask you something. Why are you alive? - I'm alive... I live... to safeguard the continuity of this great society. To serve Libria. - It's circular. You exist to continue your existence. What's the point? - What's the point of your existence? - To feel. 'Cause you've never done it, you can never know it. But it's as vital as breath. And without it, without love, without anger, without sorrow, breath is just a clock... ticking.
- sorry for the delays, but there’s something happening IRL so it’s better to move the remaining entries a couple days later to cope with it all and such
I kinda messed up ‘cause I thought theme was just any trip :D But that’s ok I guess?… hiking is good too, you know… (and yes, it’s standban au)
Day 2: Voyage/Roadtrip
@jotakakweek Day 2: Voyage/Roadtrip
what's the secret of Kakyoin's hair noodle staying fabulous on the road? Elastic! :D (inspired by a follower’s tweet)
jumping on a @jotakakweek wagon and saying i’m still alive, working on something big so I’ll be absent for some time!
Day 1: Nightmare
losing him over and over and over and over again
[please ask me before sharing somewhere else!]
another quick drawing made from scratching out the mood. Nervous, touchy, powerless. Need a good warm hug cocoon.
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(To @yksittainen )
That’s how it starts. Like a glitch. A fidgeting image on the back of his mind, just like when the game he’s playing falters because of a bad cartridge or RAM memory overload. It blinks, he halts, it stops.
He goes on.
It happens again, though. At the bath, when cold water touches his skin. When cold gloved hands help him through physical therapy. He falters, his body can’t move, the cold hands start to touch him elsewhere, roaming, crawling; his heart races and then, again, it stops.
His mind is playing tricks on him. His mind - his wit - is all he has.
So he doesn’t think about it.
(But he thinks about before. Before his friends, before Jojo freed him. There’s so much he doesn’t remember about before.
He can’t think about that.)
At his sleep, deep down a slumber that looks like paralysis, ghost touches invade him; on his neck, on his thighs, between his legs, and then a faint whisper in his ear, let’s be friends, and he screams.
It’s a dream.
(Right?)
He fears his dreams.
The crawling in his skin shows in plain sight, it’s his nails doing. His arms and thighs are marked an angry red, and they - his parents, his friends, his doctors - ask him why. He doesn’t know. All he knows is there’s something on him and it’s cold, cold hands touching, groping, taking. It’s cold, it’s dead, and shying away from all the people around him, he howls.
And more bruised he gets.
It’s trauma, they say, he’s been through death and back, it must be trauma. It will get better, they say, let us help, it will get better. But they don’t understand. It’s still in him, inside him, all over him, and they. don’t. understand.
He doesn’t understand, either.
The glitch is all he is now, a bug corrupting his system, freezing clammy hands, pain and whispers in his ear, don’t you want to be my friend? So let’s do just this little thing, yes? And the cold from these hands seeps through his bones and he’s chilling, his mind cracking from inside out.
Right when he’s supposed to heal, he’s falling apart.
(To @yksittainen )
That’s how it starts. Like a glitch. A fidgeting image on the back of his mind, just like when the game he’s playing falters because of a bad cartridge or RAM memory overload. It blinks, he halts, it stops.
He goes on.
It happens again, though. At the bath, when cold water touches his skin. When cold gloved hands help him through physical therapy. He falters, his body can’t move, the cold hands start to touch him elsewhere, roaming, crawling; his heart races and then, again, it stops.
His mind is playing tricks on him. His mind - his wit - is all he has.
So he doesn’t think about it.
(But he thinks about before. Before his friends, before Jojo freed him. There’s so much he doesn’t remember about before.
He can’t think about that.)
At his sleep, deep down a slumber that looks like paralysis, ghost touches invade him; on his neck, on his thighs, between his legs, and then a faint whisper in his ear, let’s be friends, and he screams.
It’s a dream.
(Right?)
He fears his dreams.
The crawling in his skin shows in plain sight, it’s his nails doing. His arms and thighs are marked an angry red, and they - his parents, his friends, his doctors - ask him why. He doesn’t know. All he knows is there’s something on him and it’s cold, cold hands touching, groping, taking. It’s cold, it’s dead, and shying away from all the people around him, he howls.
And more bruised he gets.
It’s trauma, they say, he’s been through death and back, it must be trauma. It will get better, they say, let us help, it will get better. But they don’t understand. It’s still in him, inside him, all over him, and they. don’t. understand.
He doesn’t understand, either.
The glitch is all he is now, a bug corrupting his system, freezing clammy hands, pain and whispers in his ear, don’t you want to be my friend? So let’s do just this little thing, yes? And the cold from these hands seeps through his bones and he’s chilling, his mind cracking from inside out.
Right when he’s supposed to heal, he’s falling apart.
look who's there! Another flowery crusader :P He follows Thistle Jotaro bc drawing heroic guys in flowers is too cool to stop.
some grim thoughts on how the early diokak timeline ever started. harsh, bloody and not a tad bit good. (it was never good in first place, sorry, no happy ends here)
mostly for the beaten up Kakyoin aesthetics, whoops
got tired of big detailed pictures, wanna try something one-night-long for a change (hence the wave of sketches. well. Doing something wrong) Kakyoin looks fabulous in everything! :D Saw this wonderful egyptian-inspired neckace and knew exactly who I wanna see wearing it. inspired by the whole collection as well!
some late night diokak sketches along the way. love this picture, it has been in my head since it all started. They're fierce.
other places to check out: deviantArt | Twitter | Instagram
listening to Suspiria OST and drawing dead kids again
If you think art is easy or a lazy escape route through college then fuck you, art is degrading, it fucks with your self worth, for every 100 paintings you do, 99 of them will be shit - you just do it and hope it looks good. When you can’t project an idea from your head onto paper the way you want it, it is heart breaking and so fucking frustrating, don’t tell me art is easy because you need to be very head strong to cope with constantly under achieving in something you love
(The walls are watching me But I am watching back) The notes are writing me The words are speaking me The time is spending me At least in my protected world The facts are doubting me The choice is making me The rules are breaking me At least in my protected world And I belong to everyone Content, polite and waiting I live and die in theory I'm what the gods believe in The fire is lighting me The seas adoring me The path is finding me At least in my protected world The hours are counting me The fight is losing me The part is acting me At least in my protected world [Diorama - Protected World] it all started as a way to pour out my recent feelings. It's going on for the last few weeks; I've been feeling full of insecurities, self-criticism, fear of being not enough in everything and stressing out to get as much out of myself as I can (drawing, media attention, mundane non-artistic work, everything). Can't say it was sudden; such mood is always somewhere here, ready to burst; but this time it turned in quite a long outbreak. There is one positive moment tho: during the years I learned to detect such mood swings and not let them fully consume me, and here's the fun part - turns out these imperfections exist only in my brain. That's what the 'protected world' means in my interpretation - this isolated world of your perception where all your little fears find their logical place and wear you out, concentrating over and over again, not being able to see the real picture outside of it. The struggle isn't over yet and the phase is going on, I don't feel much better by now, but at least I have a nice (grim) new selfportrait yay overworking is cool! (no)
other places to check out: deviantArt | Twitter | Instagram
