where do i put the memories i had with you?
the way your cheek felt on my cheek
the first time we kissed in your car
and the last time i never knew would be
do i swallow them? hide them under my bed for safekeeping?
do i throw them out? pretend they never existed?
do i run away like you did?
where do i put the babys and the cold nights
where the only thing that kept me warm was your heartbeat?
do i put them in my car and send them away on automatic
or do i keep remembering them
keep letting them haunt me
keep thinking of your voice and how it sounded
the moments it was so comforting?
can i hold onto these moments without breaking
or do i keep breaking until i’m in pieces so small
i barely recognize myself?
can i just leave it in the past? i’m trying to
but i don’t know what will make me ever forget you
Here’s something little i noticed while working on Clip.
I use rather light and smudgy pencil brushes for linework in my art. I try learning out of it due to it having some setbacks i could go without. This i’m talking about here being one.
Erasing light linework leaves easily some traces of the brush not seen with the naked eye at first, but come up during some crucial coloring or BG work which is really annoying.
What i do to check for any old rogue linework is that in Clip, once linework is “done”, i apply an effect called Border Effect to the linework layer, and set the color to any dark shade. This highlights every brushstroke on the layer, including possible unwanted trash lines.
Looks like i have more cleaning to do …
Once you have checked out and fixed any ugly lines, the effect can be turned off again no biggie. I predict that any program with Border Effect can be used for this.
And of fourse, there are many other ways o deal with these kinda lines - this one is just mine.
having a little art block, so here’s a little shameless destiel scribbling
the second one is when they’ve been together a while and cas just crowds on in there so they can just both look at the phone, even though sam could probably just send the stuff for the case to each of their phones
we have to get a divorce
i know that seems like an odd way to start a love letter but let me explain:
it’s not you
it sure as hell isn’t me
it’s just human beings don’t love as well as insects do
i love you.. far too much to let what we have be ruined by the failings of our species
i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night
i know you would never DO anything, you never do but..
i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night
did you know that when a female fly accepts the pheromones put off by a male fly, it re-writes her brain, destroys the receptors that receive pheromones, sensing the change, the male fly does the same. when two flies love each other they do it so hard, they will never love anything else ever again. if either one of them dies before procreation can happen both sets of genetic code are lost forever. now that… is dedication.
after Elizabeth and i broke up we spent three days dividing everything we had bought together
like if i knew what pots were mine like if i knew which drapes were mine somehow the pain would go away
this is not true
after two praying mantises mate, the nervous system of the male begins to shut down
while he still has control over his motor functions
he flops onto his back, exposing his soft underbelly up to his lover like a gift
she then proceeds to lovingly dice him into tiny cubes
spooning every morsel into her mouth
she wastes nothing
even the exoskeleton goes
she does this so that once their children are born she has something to regurgitate to feed them
now that.. is selflessness
i could never do that for you
so i have a new plan
i’m gonna leave you now
i’m gonna spend the rest of my life committing petty injustices
i hope you do the same
i will jay walk at every opportunity
i will steal things i could easily afford
i will be rude to strangers
i hope you do the same
i hope reincarnation is real
i hope our petty crimes are enough to cause us to be reborn as lesser creatures
i hope we are reborn as flies
so that we can love each other as hard as we were meant to.
Jared Singer, An Entomologist’s Last Love Letter
how to carry your dragoon (who will eventually just accept it and let you do so)
I drew this before 3.3 because I was fully convinced we were never going to get aymeric carrying estinien in canon yet here we are, canon happened, the thing happened (this picture set was also @hyth-ffxiv‘s idea blame them)
aymeric is very strong. very strong arms. I approve greatly.
I think it meant a lot to Even (more than he let on) how Isak got so emotional, so fiery and passionate when he told him that he should leave because things wouldn’t work out for them and that Isak would end up hating him.
Even was giving him an easy way out, a chance for him to walk away, with no guilt and no reason to feel bad about it at all (because Even believed that it was a perfectly good reason to leave)
Isak could have easily taken it, but he didn’t, but not only did he not, the idea seemed so completely ridiculous and unimaginable to him, like the thought had never even crossed his mind for a second before that, he hated just the brief thought of it and I think Even could tell.
The letter was short, the handwriting messy and shaky. The words hurt more than that bloody arrow in her shoulder ever hurt.
All the men were looking at them, and Visenya fought back tears as she gripped Dark Sister’s pommel. Her eyes are fixated on the Dornish marches in Aegon’s damn table, its ups and downs taunting her. No matter how much fire we cast and blood we take, it won’t bring her back. Visenya’s eyes went to Aegon, and like always, he was too damn deep in his mind to do or say anything to the men.
“ Leave us.” It was Orys who spoke in a broken whisper.
The men scrambled away, not fooled by the grief in his voice. In a moment, he will be furious, and his command will be much less gentle. Visenya wished she could leave as easily, mount Vaghar and burn that bloody Yellow Toad to a crisp.
There was a long heavy silence until Aegon spoke. “She couldn’t… she couldn’t possibly have fallen.”
Of course not. Rhaenys was flying when Aegon and Visenya were learning to write. She couldn’t hold back the tear that fell down her face when she remembered her little sister smiling, hair wild, as she mounted her dragon. She always looked so damn happy on top of Meraxes. Even if Meraxes had indeed fallen, Rhaenys of all people would knew how to stay mounted until it reached the ground. They must have filled her with arrows too.
Orys jumped when Visenya’s hand connected with the table. “I will make them pay for this!”
“What will you do? Mount on a dragon and get yourself killed too?” He asked.
“What do you care?” She spat back, regretting it immediately. Nevermind how Orys and Rhaenys felt for each other, he was her brother too. His concern was real. Visenya almost felt sad for him. He was already a bitter shell of himself and set on leaving to his castle and his new wife, this was the last blow after a series of harsh kicks.
“We’ll burn every castle.” Aegon said finally, his tone revealing no emotion.
“To the ground.” Visenya swore. It had always been easy for her to transform every emotion into anger.
Orys nodded, but remained silent until none of them spoke another word and he simpy turned and left, surely back to his castle and his own son. He had already battled the Dornish, lost a hand and had no dragon on his own, there was little he could do.
The silence between Aegon and herself only reminded Visenya of the loss. They had never had similar temperaments and yet in that moment, more than ever, she felt like his sister-wife. Her brother, her husband, needed support.
“Aegon,” she started, approaching him with uncharacteristic hesitancy. Visenya never doubted herself, except when Aegon’s emotions were concerned. It has been something Rhaenys and herself had bonded early on their marriage, how only Orys seemed to understand him fully. But Orys was gone, and so was Rhaenys. It was just her and Aegon. Her brother, her husband. She needed his support.
“We must fly back to King’s Landing.” He said before he left her alone, giving her one final insulting look of pity.
King’s Landing would bring her no joy or distractions. Rhaenys and Visenya had planned the city for endless hours, and to once again see its construction would be a sour reminder.
She left the room before the insulting sight of the painted table drove her to a mad rage.
The tears didn’t fell until she was back in her chamber, maid dismissed as she undid he braids. She remembered teaching her sister how to braid her long silver hair as a child, but Rhaenys always prefered to undo all of Visenya’s work. It used to irritate her, then it amused her. When they were married to Aegon, her sister had wanted something different, and it had been the only time Rhaenys had ever kept her hair in braids.
With the loose nightgown hiding her curves and her long hair flowing free, Visenya had to avoid the looking glass. We look alike, she realised perhaps for the first time. They had always been so different, but they were both the blood of the dragon and sisters of not such a long age difference.
The sob that escaped her mouth almost hurt, grief and anger settled so deep in her guts that letting it out was like Vhagar spitting fire. Only Aenys was left of Rhaenys memory, and he was sickly and fragile, and for a long time Visenya had doubted if he even was Aegon’s son. Visenya tried to find comfort in Aegon’s words.
We will burn every castle. It sounded like something Visenya would suggest and Rhaenys would protest. The war with Dorne had changed Rhaenys. Her once cheerful sister had been burdened by her failure as of late, and it while she pretended for all court, it had been in Visenya that she had trusted with her insecurities. She could not forgive what the Dornish had done to Rhaenys with their stubborn refusal to surrender.
The cool air dried Visenya’s tears as she approached the window, the view looking south. She wondered if perhaps, the singers Rhaenys had been fond of were already writing songs of her. There already were a few, of her beauty and her charm and love of the smallfolk. Visenya did not mind that all that was said of her was that she was a cruel sorceress.
Let them sing of Rhaenys grace. They would sing of Visenya’s wrath forever, of how she avenged her sister with fire and blood.
A herd of elephants makes its way through Botswana’s Okavango Delta. These animals move through the shallow waters of the delta easily, leaving behind water channels which, seen from the air, form a large mosaic of green mazes-Gaston Piccinetti.