#artistic expression

[lilsilly1]

Daily Luigi!

Haven't been doodling lately so have a silly video I made in July, tw its silly cringe yk :3

Have Luigi trying skateboardin!

(context mr piggy and sniki are random toy figurines and the skateboard is theirs)

Don't mind my weege voice impression.

Another context, I just wanted to feed my inner child with messing around with toys again, like those funny ytb videos of ppl doing it

470 days left before Mario movie

[jazmatazzzzzz]

Beetles and weevils pt 3

My Instagram : jazmatazzzzzzz

[veegodoi87]

Solo music by dear Rosie~

🎙️🎶You're in my zoo, don't you forget You are my pet I say when to sit and stay Roll over or go fetch Don't you forget🌹⛓️

[aventurineswife]

Hello again! I was wondering if you could make a violinist reader, something similar to my previous request.

Being the reader who personally plays for the character and dedicates a song to him, with the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan and Childe. Take your time!

-🩵

Strings of the Soul

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Childe x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Violinist!Reader, Light Angst, Soft Moments, Artistic Expression(?), Comfort.

Warnings: Light mentions of Childe's battles and sacrifices, subtle melancholic undertones in some pieces, and slight flirtation, Mimi is alive 🫶🤭.

The grand casino hall was alive with the clatter of roulette wheels and the soft hum of conversation. Aventurine leaned casually against the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd with a playful glint. He was in his element, a world of wagers and whims, where every interaction was a calculated gamble.

But tonight, something—or rather, someone—had piqued his curiosity. On the raised stage, you tuned your violin with an air of quiet confidence. The gold accents of your outfit glimmered under the lights, a reflection of the daring spirit Aventurine admired.

When the first note rang out, sharp and precise, the room stilled. Your melody was a daring dance of highs and lows, a musical representation of Aventurine’s own life—a world of risks and rewards. Each crescendo mirrored the adrenaline of a well-played gamble, while the softer, melancholic tones spoke of the unseen cost of his high-stakes world.

By the time the last note faded, Aventurine was clapping louder than anyone else, his sly smile softened by genuine admiration.

Later, when you approached him, he raised an eyebrow.

“A song for me?” he teased, twirling the peacock feather earring he wore.

“For you,” you confirmed, “a gambler’s serenade.”

“Well, darling,” he said, offering his gloved hand, “you’ve just made the best bet of the night.”

The flickering lanterns of the bazaar cast warm shadows over the bustling stalls. Amid the chaos, Sampo lounged on a pile of crates, one leg crossed lazily over the other. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he observed you setting up your violin in the center of the square.

When you began to play, the usual clamor of the market faded into silence. Your music was light and playful, a lilting tune that mimicked Sampo’s carefree persona. Quick, sharp notes captured the essence of his silver tongue and slippery nature, while the sudden shifts in tempo mirrored his unpredictable schemes.

The crowd clapped along, enchanted by the melody, but Sampo’s gaze was fixed solely on you.

When the performance ended, he weaved through the crowd with his characteristic swagger, clapping his mismatched gloves in mock reverence.

“Well, well,” he drawled, “if it isn’t my new favorite musician. That piece had me written all over it.”

“It was inspired by you,” you admitted, tucking your violin back into its case.

He smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “Careful, my friend. Flattery might just make me stick around longer than you’d like.”

The serene garden of the Xianzhou Luofu was bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Jing Yuan sat beneath a blossoming tree, Mimi, his lion companion, dozing peacefully at his side. His eyes, heavy with centuries of wisdom, flickered toward you as you approached with your violin.

You bowed slightly before taking your place a short distance away. The first notes of your song floated through the air, a gentle, meditative melody that seemed to echo Jing Yuan’s introspective nature. The composition was intricate yet understated, weaving a story of quiet strength and enduring patience.

As the music swelled, a hint of melancholy crept into the melody, a reflection of the memories Jing Yuan carried—the comrades he had lost, the battles fought, and the passage of time. Yet the piece ended on a hopeful note, a reminder of the peace he had worked tirelessly to maintain.

When you finished, Jing Yuan’s usual calm expression softened into a rare smile. “That was beautifully played,” he said, his deep voice tinged with gratitude.

“It was composed for you.” you replied, bowing again.

“A lullaby for a dozing general,” he mused, reclining further against the tree. “You have my thanks. Perhaps you’ll play again sometime?”

The icy wind of Snezhnaya whipped through the open training ground, where Childe stood, his Hydro blades dissipating as he concluded his sparring session. Sweat glistened on his brow, but he greeted you with a wide grin as you approached with your violin case in hand.

“You’re braving the cold to play for me?” he asked, his tone half-teasing but warm.

“Someone needs to balance all that fighting with a little culture,” you replied, setting up your instrument.

The music you played was fierce and dynamic, mirroring the intensity of Childe’s battles. Rapid, fiery strokes of the bow captured the thrill of combat, while the deeper, more mournful tones hinted at the sacrifices he made for his family.

Childe stood motionless, his eyes fixed on you as the music stirred something deep within him.

By the time you reached the climax, a triumphant crescendo that spoke of resilience and hope, a rare stillness had settled over the Harbinger.

“That…” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “that was incredible.”

“It’s a song for a warrior,” you said, meeting his gaze.

“For me, huh?” He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “You’ve got a knack for this. Next time, though, maybe play it during one of my fights? I think it’d make a great soundtrack.”

[aoloieruarchive]

No Longer Here, 2018

[angelofsmall]

cemetery from my eyes

11/24

[lostpimplepatch]

Nightwing aerial silk routine to this song. Might add a part 2

Please comment even if its criticism. I need the motivation

[bobowizard]

[miamaimania]

Isabel Canovas's 'Shoes' (1989): A sartorial dance between glamour and craftsmanship at the Met Costume Institute

[chlobody]

a church in the mountains

[ me, shot by the incredible @ohseephotography ]

[jazmatazzzzzz]

Beetles and weevils pt 4

[danneroni]

You're not my first,

who gives a fuck?

[fadv4mpz]

i don't like that seb..

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

Eat Clean

[aoloieruarchive]