dinari

This is one of my OCs Dinari, obviously hes very watered down rn as this is the first real concept art of him.

He’s a part of a really big project that I hope to share with you all soon! That said, feel free to send me physical tweaks/recommendations you might be interested in seeing.

More than any of that, IF YOU WANNA DRAW SOMETHING YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DRAW HIM OK NOTHING MAKES ME HAPPIER THAN PPL DRAWING FOR ME 

Ahahaha I tried
But oh my god I LOVE your cosplay and your art and you just seem like a really rad person in general!! Anyways I actually look up to you in terms of cosplay/cosplay makeup and so I thought I’d draw your lovely vampire oc for you, stay awesome! ^^

AHH thank you so much!!!!!!!! It’s lovely!!!

This is my contribution to International mother languages day, a poem about sicilian language by Ignazio Buttitta 

Un populu
mittitilu a catina
spughiatilu
attuppatici a vucca
è ancora libiru.
 
Livatici u travagghiu
u passaportu
a tavula unnu mancia
u lettu unnu dormi,
è ancora riccu.
 
Un populo
diventa poviru e servu
quannu ci arrubbano a lingua 
addutata di patri:
è persu pi sempri.
 
Diventa poviru e servu
quannu i paroli non figghianu paroli
e si mancianu tra d’iddi.
Mi n’addugnu ora,
mentri accordu la chitarra du dialetto
ca perdi na corda lu jornu.
 
Mentre arripezzu
a tila camuluta
ca tissiru i nostri avi
cu lana di pecuri siciliani.
 
E sugnu poviru:
haiu i dinari
e non li pozzu spènniri;
i giuielli
e non li pozzu rigalari;
u cantu
nta gaggia
cu l’ali tagghiati.
 
Un poviru
c’addatta nte minni strippi
da matri putativa
chi u chiama figghiu
pi nciuria.
 
Nuatri l’avevamu a matri,
nni l’arrubbaru;
aveva i minni a funtana di latti
e ci vìppiru tutti,
ora ci sputanu.
 
Nni ristò a vuci d’idda,
a cadenza,
a nota vascia
du sonu e du lamentu:
chissi no nni ponnu rubari.
 
Non nni ponnu rubari,
ma ristamu poveri
e orfani u stissu

ENGLISH TRANSLATION

A population 
put them in chains 
strip them naked 
gag their 
mouths, 
they are still free. 

Take away 
their jobs
their passports
the table 
where they eat 
the bed they sleep in, 
they are still rich. 

A Population
become impoverished 
and servile, 
when taken from them 
the language 
endowed by their fathers: 
is lost forever. 

They become impoverished 
and servile, 
when their words don’t 
generate words 
and they canabalize 
themselves. 

Now I understand 
as I finger the 
guitar frets 
of the dialect 
that each day 
another chord is lost. 

While I darn 
this moth eaten cloth 
woven by 
our forebears 
with thread spooled from 
Sicilian sheep. 

Yet I’m impoverished: 
I have money 
and can’t 
spend it; 
jewels 
and can’t 
gift them; 
a song, 
caged 
with broken wings. 

A poor wretch 
suckling at dried-up 
breasts 
of a supposed mother 
who calls him 
son 
as a taunt. 

We once had 
a mother, 
they stole her; 
she had breasts 
overflowing with milk 
that everyone drank, 
now she is spat upon. 

Her voice stayed 
with us, 
the intonation, 
the soft note 
the sound and the 
lament: 
these they could not 
take from us. 

And remaining still 
the similitude, 
the way of walking, 
the gestures, 
the sparkling 
eyes: 
these they can not 
take from us. 

They can not 
take them from us, 
but we’re impoverished 
and orphaned all the same.

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DINARY DELTA FORCE&BLAHRMY from D.L.I.P [STRAD 201502/27]

お待たせしました、久しぶりにパリナイしますよ‼︎PRIVILEGEの5周年&LF×DLのリリースパーティー💨超豪華アーティスト+華金で、条件は整って〼‼️次の日予定ある人、仕事の人はヘパリーゼ飲んで来ればなんとかなると思いますので、シフト等まだ間に合う人は予定空けて頂き是非☝️

=========================
PRIVILEGE 5TH ANNIVERSARY PARTY ft.Lafayette × Deadline collection launch party

2015.3.20(金) @ 代官山AIR
START/22:00

ENTRANCE 3,500yen
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《《B1 FLOOR》》
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Supported by Sports Lab by atmos, Majestic

制作:URBAN FORCE
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One day I'm going to...

…go to a courthouse and do “fashion police” on my phone as though I was a reporter and overuse, “fabulous!!!”  because I can…hamster bless america!!!

…go to Turkey and demand Chicken…lots and lots of chicken.

… buy the tiniest island i can, declare myself king and borrow like crazy from the IMF and then default…go home and live like the KING i used to be.

…go to Greece, walk around asking for Heracles(Hercules) and when people ask why…”he owes me 20 dinari plus 5,000 years of interest…you related to him, pay up?”

…start a religion where all of the Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones…and pretty much all fantasy replica merchandise is my churches, so when I steal it…I can say, “It’s my religion and you were desecrating it by making it about money.”

… go up to a woman and say, “I’ll give you 20 bucks if you can convince me to have sex with you(and go through with it).”

… go to a hospital and act like a check-in person…everytime someone is late(without a good reason) start yelling at them and hope they leave so the person who was on time(ie 10 minutes early) gets in on time.

…go to a bar and say really loud, ” a round of beers for everyone in the bar on Mi….(drown out by applause)Michio Kaku…love physicists who support my drinking.

Charon the ferryman

I found him at long last in a forest clearing, cooking at a fire.

He glanced up and gestured for me to sit with him. Without prompting he began to tell me his story:

“My name is Charon, I am the ferryman. It was my job to take the souls of the dead across the last river, to what lies beyond. I am no immortal, for me it was just a contract, abet signed by endless hands. Two coins left in the eyes of the deceased the compensation for my time.”

“People often laughed and told me for such a vital service, I should have charged more! They didn’t understand how many people sat beside me on that boat, two coins for every man and women ever born is more then a fortune!”

“It started with beads, then dinari became pennies, silver dollars and more abstract means of trade. I collected my fees, but the contract was not forever; only until the end of time.”

He stirred the pot a little, prodded the embers with a stick and continued.

“So there at the end of all things, I had a choice, as my contract stated; I would be mortal once more, I could go and live out my remaining days in any place and any time I desired. I would live well, I had more money then anyone could imagine in currency of every nation and era where someone had died.”

“What would I do with this mortal life? You see, I had a unique experience; every person who ever lived had sat in my boat, and told me the tales of their lives, I knew more about the human condition then anyone every will. I know all the secrets of the grave, I have seen every life that could be lived, so how should I spend mine? Which life the most virtuous, the most fulfilling?”

He saw me shift a little in my improvised seat, I guess he realised his talk was making me uncomfortable, but he stared into the distance and continued

“ I’d met dictators and kings, who would deliver great monologues of their adventures, they would tell me the one place they went wrong, or more often, how they where betrayed; great speeches about the failings of lesser men that had lead to their downfall. Those kind of people hid a pain deep inside, they wanted to see their faces on statues, because they don’t know how to be loved.”

"The really strong ones? The spiritual ones who had something meaningful to say, where far less common, less then one in a million, but I knew them because the first thing they did, was to ask if I was tired, and offer to take the oars.”

“Yeah, I met them all, I met the hedonists who choose slow suicide and decided to live themselves to death, I met child soldiers who never had that chance, who had grasped more of there own existence then all the philosophers ever did. I’d experienced all of human existence second-hand, I could have sought to replicate any life, fought suffering, lived to see monuments raised in my honour, Charon the great! The all powerful! But In the end thought I choose this:”

Charon gestured around the clearing at the beautiful nights sky.

“All I need is this night, these refried beans and a little space for me to think. Disappointing isn’t it? After all I’ve heard, all I know, all I can offer is the advice to enjoy the simple pleasures, eh?”

"There’s one thing that has been troubling me though. As I’m now a mortal and will someday die, I must have once ferried myself across the river, I must have sat silent with my own soul beside me. So I try to remember, rack my brain for someone who kinda looked like me. See, such a mistake! If I’d only realised at the time, I could have asked myself how I died, I would have know this last secret, and maybe, I wouldn’t have invited you to join me!”

He turned and looked straight at me then, but I was already on my feet, the piano wire between my fingers. He was a strong old man and fought like he didn’t want to die, but in the end he choked his last in my arms.

As I lay his body down, I knew one day we would meet again, and he would not remember me. If he could, I doubt he would thank me for being the only mortal in history, to pay the ferryman in kind.

FIN