power-corruption-and-lies

[power-corruption-and-lies]

Another friend joins the party

Keith Haring Insp shrimp baybe

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has this been done yet

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hi everyone. i have some really scary news. my grandmother, who i'm incredibly close to, got diagnosed with lung cancer very recently today. in the time since then, my family has been scrambling to find solutions and treatment options for her. we still need to decide what exactly our course of action is, but in the meantime if you could give us some financial support, i would really appreciate it. I made a big post up on my toyhouse detailing the situation further, and in that post I linked ways you can help us out. even if you can't help out financially i ask that you spread this post around as much as possible. we really need all the support we can get right now. this is all incredibly hard for us to go through, and I have hope that she's going to be okay and pull through this. thank you.

[power-corruption-and-lies]

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS OPEN

I’ve been busy with school work and I haven’t been able to make a lot of money these past two months due to it and I’m eating at my savings and I’m almost out. Shares would be much appreciated

I can do a variety of characters and styles but my main prices (USD) for a quote are:

Headshot: $40-$60 depending on complexity

Full body: $60-$80

Customs: $80-$120

Ref sheets: $80-$200

Painted Illustrations: dm for quote

[power-corruption-and-lies]

oh dear god now I have the new tunglr layout

for a moment I thought I was on twitter again

eugh

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make my little sister tumblr famous

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oh this is just lovely

[power-corruption-and-lies]

TEN THOUSAND YEARS

Ji-Hong had woken up to the feeling of tears trickling over the bridge of his nose, verging the corner of his mouth, the edge of his lips, and tumbling ultimately down into his pillow. Ji-Hong had woken up, having already opened his eyes for far too long, with him already too familiar with his surroundings.

His eyelids so heavy to raise, yet the emptiness of wake, the missing presence of repose filled almost every alcove, every crevasse of his consciousness. Almost, and not all, because his tongue was tingling for the sweetness of pears; his hands, the fragile but subtile fragrance of the water bursting through and out the raw fruit; the crisp, tapered length of skin spiralling out of control into his lap.

Ji-Hong reached for his canteen, and drank a gulp of dusty, stagnant water.

It was the best he had on hand.

[power-corruption-and-lies]

Communion (from The Missionary)

The Missionary sighs.

His talons latch unto the bed’s iron frame.

A claw endlessly stroking the same tuft of hair.

The Missionary lowers his head, forlorn.

Hopeless.

A ray of sunlight hits his pilot’s temple, the corner of his eyes.

No reaction.

Sunset, is there a sign? Is there a sign on the skyline? Is it just beyond reach? Is there a line on the skyline? Sunset, is there any sign of a story line? Over there, over where?

His pilot lets out a blow of hot air.

His skin is dewy.

The Missionary wants to bring his wings down and forward, cover his little pilot with a blanket of shade during the summer day.

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The Missionary

“Then I’ll save him again!” he cried, lifting the man to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand the gravity of the situation, do you? He’s maybe just a pilot — an aristocrat, for that matter — but he’s mine,” he roared through his bare teeth, “We don’t fly for leisure; we do it for the men in the trenches. We want to ease his life; we keep the enemy fighters away. I know what you think of me: you think I am nothing but a dog obedient to a master— yet we are more noble and more loyal to each other than you are with another human.”

[power-corruption-and-lies]

thank you very much, i can see you're easily, uh... brought into a state of ex-Ex-extatism

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A quick search on the Internet indicates we gotta brace ourselves on August 7th, 2044

Sometimes on the subway we time travel.

[power-corruption-and-lies]

Communion (from The Missionary)

The Missionary sighs.

His talons latch unto the bed’s iron frame.

A claw endlessly stroking the same tuft of hair.

The Missionary lowers his head, forlorn.

Hopeless.

A ray of sunlight hits his pilot’s temple, the corner of his eyes.

No reaction.

Sunset, is there a sign? Is there a sign on the skyline? Is it just beyond reach? Is there a line on the skyline? Sunset, is there any sign of a story line? Over there, over where?

His pilot lets out a blow of hot air.

His skin is dewy.

The Missionary wants to bring his wings down and forward, cover his little pilot with a blanket of shade during the summer day.

[power-corruption-and-lies]

The Missionary

“Then I’ll save him again!” he cried, lifting the man to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand the gravity of the situation, do you? He’s maybe just a pilot — an aristocrat, for that matter — but he’s mine,” he roared through his bare teeth, “We don’t fly for leisure; we do it for the men in the trenches. We want to ease his life; we keep the enemy fighters away. I know what you think of me: you think I am nothing but a dog obedient to a master— yet we are more noble and more loyal to each other than you are with another human.”

[power-corruption-and-lies]

OH MY GOD TROLLEYBUSES ARE HUMANS

GOD IS ELECTRICITY

the massive power of trains yet confinement to a single path makes them comparable to angels