I think I should say that I do not speak English, and I use a translator...o（ｉДｉ）o ••• I've been gone a long time. And I'm with my original character! This is Vivien Shaw, nicknamed "the prophet." He can predict the future, travel through time, and many other things, he-he! (*´▽｀)ﾉﾉ Well, what else can I say about him... Yes, perhaps there is nothing? Ah, good night to me!.. (*´﹀`*)
I had so much fun doodling these cute #kawaii cakes and cookies! I paired them with the "yummy" lemonade doodle I made last year. I used Copic markers on paper to capture all the cuteness.
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975)
Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil.
After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.”
― P.G. Wodehouse
#dailyrituals #inktober #PGWodehouse @masoncurrey
the wounded soldier is no longer just a man begging for mercy - he is infected with something dangerous, which makes him aggressive and possibly uncontrollable. His outstretched hand may now mean not a plea, but an attempt to grab the protagonist, which increases the sense of threat.
The soldier's eyes, wide open and seemingly filled with fear or madness, now look like a sign of loss of humanity. The blood stains on his clothes are no longer just traces of battle, but perhaps the result of his own aggression.
The chains in the background can be interpreted as a symbol of restriction or control over the infected - perhaps he was captured or locked up, but was able to break free.
Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic.
After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001
"I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day."
The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket.
"But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit."
"…"
“Who am I?"
The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands.
"Love!"
His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it.
"To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"
Louise Bourgeois (1911–2010)
“My life has been regulated by insomnia,” Bourgeois told an interviewer in 1993. “It’s something that I have never been able to understand, but I accept it.” Bourgeois learned to use these sleepless hours productively, propped up in bed with her “drawing diary,” listening to music or the hum of traffic on the streets.
“Each day is new, so each drawing—with words written on the back—lets me know how I’m doing,” she said. “I now have 110 drawing-diary pages, but I’ll probably destroy some.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“I am not what I am, I am what I do with my hands...”
― Louise Bourgeois
“Every day you have to abandon your past or accept it, and then, if you cannot accept it, you become a sculptor.”
― Louise Bourgeois
#dailyrituals #inktober #LouiseBourgeois @masoncurrey
If time cost flesh
If life is boundless
Then where will my hours take me
I want with desires
I wish like a liar
Chasing the rabbit timidly
When im asleep
My dreams are whats deep
I drown in seas of maybes
How do i rise
How do i reach skies
When emotions and plans limit me
I grovel an weep
Cause i put dreams out of reach
But i want to engage the maybes
So instead of the plots
And sitting on thoughts
Its time to embrace the daydreams
I wont cower to dreams
I’ll capture a scheme
And nurture the life of maybes -#embracingnightmares
