man gallery

10

screenshots by Outspokenbeef15 on reddit, he has more screenshots and gifs 

(I especially like this one with drunk dancing witchers)

redditors fifthdayofmayStealthyNoodle4Alonso555 and Awsomethingy post Storyboard UI stuff as well

Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun (1755-1842)
“The Artist’s Brother” (1773)
Oil on canvas
Rococo
Located in the Saint Louis Art Museum, St. Louis, Missouri, United States

Le Brun’s brother, Étienne Vigée (1758-1820) was a French playwright and man of letters. He was popular in the salons for his pleasant personality and quick wit.

Love in Colors

☇  soulmates au

genre: soft angst and light fluff

pairing: taehyung // you

word count: 7,034

warnings: people have said they needed tissues but………

Description: Lost as an artist, you travel around in order to find yourself. Then you meet Kim Taehyung - a stranger, a friend, and your soulmate. Only you don’t remember him but he remembers you.

A/N: ahaha i decided to post this a day earlier :) i’m pretty proud of it, so i hope you’ll like it!!



I met my soulmate before I was conceived. we were nothing but constellations composed of dying stars. before the supernovas consumed us, he told me, “Don’t ever feel alone in the years to come. You may have your doubts, but we’ll collide again. They say the universe is infinite, but so is love.


As an art major, you have always been interested in the order of the world and its complex design, a nexus of colors and lights, hopes and dreams, fears and failures, completed with intricate beings that are both so fragile and so strong at the same time. It confounds you when you realize how every single being on this Earth has a story behind themselves. You have learned to appreciate the masterpieces produced by various artists, sculptors, photographers, and musicians alike, their interpretations and impressions always having an impact, leaving you in deep thoughts and moments of stillness afterwards, the final note ringing in your mind or the picturesque landscape imprinted beneath your closed lids. Perhaps this is how the child-like wonder always makes its appearance in your paintings.

Yet you are still searching for yourself and the kind of art that will make you up in the coming years in a world that is so big, a constant cycle of criticism and judgement. You spend nights alone under the starlit skies, agonizing over the smallest of details, dozens and dozens of shredded and crumpled papers thrown around.

To put it simply, you are utterly lost.

You always knew that being an art major was risky; the chances of being actually successful were low, and you were nearing graduation from your arts college with nothing in your portfolio. But from the first time your young, chubby one year old fingers touched the cool, slick paint and stained themselves across paper, you were completely immersed. The urge to draw was something you could never resist, even if you wanted to, and the talent came naturally.

You’ve never, in the ripe years of your life, had an artist’s block, always listening to friends go on and on about them, but you’ve always had inspiration. That is, until now.

You find yourself unsatisfied, constantly comparing your own paintings to those of Van Gogh’s or Monet’s, feeling that none of your pieces of art were alive enough. None of them were spirited or lively, and though yes, they were good, beautiful even, they did not convey the emotions you wanted the audience to feel. Anyone could be an artist that draws, but not every artist could move people. To become truly successful, one had to fully understand themselves to produce the art that they desired, and that was just what you were missing.

The constant strive for perfection is what echoes in your head day and night, and finally you have enough of it. Your friends too, suggest that you take a break and walk the world for a bit, and maybe then you would gain inspiration.

That is how you end up in the Louvre Museum in Paris, only you are still as stuck as ever, and your trip is quickly coming to an end, with only a few days left.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh into your phone. You are wandering the museum, absentmindedly looking at the works. Nothing really strikes your eye.

“Y/N, seriously though,” comes your best friend Yoongi’s voice. He is the one that understands you the best, the drive for perfection in himself rivaling yours. A pianist, he gives himself up completely to the music. “Don’t get so stressed out. It’s okay if you have to stay another year.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you finally snap. “You’ve already gotten a couple offers. I haven’t even sent out my portfolio.”

The other side of the phone is quiet. You only hear the soft crackling of his breath.

“Sorry,” you say softly, a little bit guilty for raising your voice. “I’m just - I’m about to just give up. You should understand me, Yoongi, this feeling of imperfection that doesn’t satisfy me. There’s this constant spotlight in my mind, like my end goal, and I’m so close but there’s just this little stretch that I can’t reach. What if I really can’t find myself?”

“Y/N,” Yoongi says quietly, “these things can’t be rushed. The more you rush it, the more locked your personality gets.”

Keep reading

self portrait

I am a celibate
at an adult film
convention

I am celery
at a summer
cookout

I am a Camry
at a Ferrari
dealership

I am a chorizo taco
everyone ordered
chicken

I feel like Taco Tuesday
on a Wednesday
morning

I am a blind man
walking an art
gallery

I am a deaf man
who can’t read
lips

I feel like 1849
pyrite in a California
riverbed

I am a mouse
amongst starving
Owls

I am a heart
in an empty
cave

I am a book
no one
reads

I am a joke
uttered maliciously
at a funeral

I am a hopeless
romantic in a world without
love

I am a smile
with no
teeth

I am crazy
in a world
with no mirrors

I am jade
in an achromatic
universe

I am the nothing
inside everything
&
everything
I never
wanted to be