#BEAUTIFULLY-COMPOSED

[therentyoupay]

OH??? MY GOD?????????????

Okay so tbh part of the reason I returned to tumblr was because of That Unhinged Jelsa Video (literally dragged me back by the ankles), so here's a little piece of fan art for @callimara and @therentyoupay

thanks for keeping this old ship alive in 2024!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[shoyoackerman]

Not even lying when i say tristamp soundtrack actually as me fucking bawling because its just so beautiful. Especially when i think about each specific scene attached to the audios. Im in tears yall please 😭

[fluffypotatey]

i am in love with your mind, Jorge Rivera-Herrans

[frankiehasfangs]

Margot Mills is a groundbreaking final girl for the horror industry. One of the most commonly used horror tropes is that any woman who does anything sexual is immediately killed off. Margot mills being a sex worker and the ONLY person in the movie that lives is so fucking cool. She’s also just such a multifaceted character and ARGH I just love her so much

[idalievu]

im sure plenty of ppl have seen these already but i was watching a making of jaws documentary and i love the photos they showed of when the Orca got damaged during filming and started sinking. absolute chaos. please save the sound crew.

[the-algebra-thing]

I barely go here but me and flynn were wiping down my friends house she just bought today while she was at work and so I put them in our respective outfits. yes his bow says little sister that is still my favorite hair accessory even though I cut off all my hair. being the eldest can't stop me from dreaming

[calcitration]

@geopfert / Pieck: "Just take her, please."

Picture the mother defeated. Pieck sits on the cot, her fingers laced into her hair unwashed hair. It falls in dry strands, obscures where she is pressing hard into her eyes, where the headache screws holes into her brain. She has been sitting there for too long, sunken into herself, a discarded doll with pointed shoulders. While the makeshift crib bears the miserable wails of a child.

Pieck doesn't look. Is too ashamed, too tired to look. She hides in the palms of her hands and lets her mind leak out of her ears, liquified by sleep deprivation and migraines. Her shirt is dirtied, swollen and raw teats soaking it with wasted milk. She's cried already and is now too dried up to attempt it a second time. Her eyes are red-rimmed, punched black and blue by sleepless nights. Colic, said the one doctor she could find who'd give her and the crying little creature writhing in her arms the time of day. She doesn't know what that means. She was sent away, told to give it time. But the child keeps screaming and Pieck can't bear her weight anymore.

"I can't do it, Annie. I can't. I don't know how. I don't know what to do." She rasps out, a confession she flicks at her like a pebble. She chokes on a half-swallowed breath. Such helplessness leaves her so cruel, so resentful. It's not the child's fault. It can't be. How could it be? And yet, every scream balls up in her stomach like a hateful fist.

"Just... Take her away."

A tarpaulin-domed den, drenched in a scent Annie associated with burrows or caves – primal places, floors lined with fur and bones. Dirt and piss. The intimate, viscera-tang of a mother’s innards. Blood and milk. The lattermost bloomed in wet, sticky flowers on Pieck’s chest, her body reduced to a leaking, deflated thing. Some small, bruised part of Annie died of second-hand shame and was grateful for the distraction of those piercing wails. Such a wretched sound must hit Pieck like a bullet, like a train that kept on coming.

“What a racket you’re making…”

Annie murmured darkly, peering at the bundle lying at the heart of the cobbled-together crib. It heaved and writhed with unpractised misery. Through it all, Pieck sat with a faraway and feral look on her face, fingers twisting in the stiff, dirty hair that cloaked her like a burial shroud. Two people were drowning, which one to choose?

“You just need sleep.”

This isn’t you, she wanted to emphasise. Years apart had left them almost strangers, but still she knew enough of Pieck to understand such overwhelm was uncharacteristic.

As always, Annie chose obedience. Taking the desperate order between her teeth she lifted the infant – Zofia – and held her gingerly, scooped against the bird bones of her own brittle chest. Annie was the colour of a fish belly, all mean features and hard angles sharpened by hunger, ringing hollow at her roots. She was not built to coddle something so soft, so new. Still she tried, swaying faintly where she stood, gazing dubiously into the stiff nest of blankets. Zofia arched and raged against her with surprising strength, hands clenched into tiny pink fists. How had her father ever weathered such inconsolable crying? How he had resisted the urge to smother her, to drown her in the same pail as the miller’s kittens?

Attention returned to Pieck, who sat shell-shocked, defeated by the squall of her unhappy baby.

“You need to rest. When you’ve done that, get cleaned up. Wash your face. Drag your fingers through your hair. Pull yourself together – because it isn’t just you anymore, is it?”

Annie meant it kindly, meant only that Pieck couldn’t afford to unravel, not even in these impossible circumstances.

“I can take Zofia. For a while, anyway. Then I’ll bring you something to eat.”

[joelletwo]

Ha, you have problem? I would never have problem. Because of different. :)

Not posting this from the ace/polyam post to make fun posting this bc i feel like its gonna be stuck in my head for five years. Because of different :)

[2001hz]

"My (musical) World is a little bit dark... a little bit off-center. I think of it as tragically beautiful. That is how I would describe what I love best: tragically beautiful."

— Angelo Badalamenti

[trainingdummyrabbit]

thinks really hard about Joy Of Remembrance - Celeste [Farewell] OST bc. it opens with such a flourish, in an almost feathery soundfont not quite like what you'd heard leading into it, the violin setting up the primary melody... and then the backing track kicks in and its almost discordant. not quite, but its enough to be Jarring. like some sort of stumble. and it keeps that dissonance, keeps that feeling as though its hastily pushing several different discolored pieces into the same track, struggling to make them fit, harmonize-- through pretty much the entire track.

the clashing of the high violin and the more chiptune-esque lead, each one almost trying to overwhelm the other parts all at once. but then when it quiets down just before the loop, the more somber strings feel almost like some sort of parting in the clouds-- not a mark of clarity, but one of something that lies underneath the hastily spilled coats of paint.

its trying desperately to be a declaration of openness and understanding, but that Cant be what it is (re: madeline's denial and stubbornness pushing forward). a loud, beautiful piece that Wants to be something it isnt-- actively pushing down the realization of what it Actually stands for. the dawning understanding something is terribly wrong, but simply excusing it as something else, overwriting it with a reality you can more easily swallow.

pushing for the answer she Wants rather than the answer she Needs.

gotta catch that bird.

[inthesirensandthesilences]

know that in a house of resentment nothing grows

[naotelier]

「Composers Rkgk/Scribble Log #1 」

by Rozelnao (Nao)

——

Context

So ..lately I’ve been drawing a lots of Composers artwork(more like rkgk/scribble ,I haven’t draw any full fledge illustration of composers ever since that Chopin ‘s Birthday art. But I plan to do one soon) ,which I mostly post on my twt account.

Today I scrolled through all of what I did so far and came up with an idea of making a compilation/log (as they often called this kind of stuff on pixiv) of these art on my Tumblr account in order to keep it active 🥲

Okay enough of my rambling, please enjoy ^^

//There will be a lot’s of robert schumann drawing since I just read his biography and that makes me want to draw him a lots

—-

Romantic Composers gang in Songkran Festival

Idk what makes me want to draw these guys celebrating my National Festival , but anyway it was fun to draw

Robert being cheery because he’s in his “Florestan(Extrovert)” mode

Mendy come along with Robert as a good friend he is.

Liszt being himself , got surrounded by the girls due to his popularity

Chopin supposedly being dragged to the festival by Liszt. He wants to go home so bad lol

Robert Schumann ft. Nuigurumi Meme

My friend requested me to draw it..

Don’t fight the Schumanns

Drawing based on that one “Which composers you should fight”post on this site.

Robert Schumann💐

Draw this after I finished his Biography

Franz Liszt w/ Oshi no ko eyes’s pattern

I have watched an anime called “Oshi no Ko” and I love the “Star” pattern in the Main character’s eyes so much. So I tried draw it (without much success….) with Liszt because who could have fit with the theme of “Superstar” or even the symbolism of shining “Talented” and “Brilliance” more than him ,right?

Liszt Scribbled on Music sheet

I can’t help drawing something on it lol

Everyone’s beloved Sad boi

Fredéric “Sad Boi” Chopin

Schumann has obtained “A Mysterious Steel Pen!”

Based on an account in his biography where Schumann found a steel pen being placed on Beethoven’s grave in Vienna , so he took it and even uses it with some of his works.

—-

And That’s all for the first log ^^

I hope you enjoyed 👍

[hellogoodbyegirl]

Roger Hodgson and Rick Davies of Supertramp performing 'Rudy' on 24th July, 1983

[deathlonging]

healing albums are overrated. can anyone drop recs of concept albums abt being a murderer and/or monster its shamefully indulgent but sometimes you do need to self soothe w the knowledge that you can and you must chip away at the proverbial stone block of your personality to ground your survival in the mundane pain of creating something worth keeping around and alive