#oil on linen board

[weirdlookindog]

Dave Lebow (b. 1955) - Death and the Lady

source

[sai-aeko]

Yuko Saito

Artist painter

[gnevritual]

Well, the time has come for this one too. This painting was never truly finished; it carries a very depressing story. However, I will reveal it once the final photo or video is uploaded. The way its creation ended was something no one expected and even shocked many.

[theeyeballwoman]

Meave Mc Carthy at the Molesworth

I had attended the opening of Meave Mc Carthy's exhibition 'Recollective Spaces at the Molesworth Gallery, 16 Molesworth Street, Dublin 2. It was busy and had a friendly atmosphere. People came from and went to other events. Meave painted her oil paintings on linen, board or even panels. Her style was maticulous especially when it came to her buildings, raods and flowers. The world is at peace in her nocturnal images. Her portrayal of light under a night sky appealed to me. I thought that her large artwork 'Open Window' was the most striking. It's a change to look into a brightly lit interior rather than out at a sun drenched exterior. Her smaller painting 'Towards the mountain' was the most atmospheric. To my eye, it appeared to be a quiet moonlit scene. Her show will run until 31st Oct 2024.

Eyeballs. 👀

[loveletters2myself]

- rosemary shampoo and oil in your hair

- wooden comb scalp massages

- 30 min sauna sessions

- pilates every morning

- 100% organic cotton/linen clothing

- magnesium baths at night

- lymphatic face and body massages

- mouth tape when sleeping

- dry brushing before you shower

- beeswax candles

- daily prayer

- beef tallow as moisturizer

- jojoba oil on nail cuticles

- himalayan salt lamp night light

- red light therapy

- completely eliminate alcohol

- get a hatch alarm clock

- journal your entire day every night

- make monthly or yearly vision boards

[huariqueje]

Shin Hing Street, Central Hong Kong - Francis Hamel , 2019-20.

British , b. 1963 -

Oil on linen laid on board , 28 x 31.0 cm.

[jirving]

study from the other night

4x8 oil on linen board

[solbaby7]

Hiii, can I get a margarita with a salt rim on the rocks, please? Thank you!💕

[ “got a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it.” + smut + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Rhysand liked wild things—had this affinity for collecting strays; plucking them from their prisons and providing a life of freedom and luxury.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. This rabid animal of a thing with a serious aversion to proper clothing and absolutely no regard for others personal boundaries. “Back for more charity work?”

“Is that how you think of my visits? I’m hurt.”

You look down at him with amusement, crouched low on a branch with a skirt so short it takes effort not to stare. “We both know you aren’t,” You make tree climbing look easy, bare toes trodding across branches that don’t look sturdy but hold strong bearing your weight. “What’d you bring me this time?”

Rhysand dangles the wicker basket before him with two fingers. He’s teasing, offering; luring you in closer as the laws of the Middle insists that its lands and the creatures in it must welcome you and not the other way around. “Come see for yourself, trouble.”

He’s grown fond of the wild way you move, confidently twisting and ducking through the forestry—the breathable linen of your strapless top flows with the breeze. Handmade necklaces kiss at your clavicle, all braided leather with bleached bones, carefully woven shells and shiny geodes. Once you get close enough he can see the neat braids peeking through loose strands, interwoven thread adding pops of color in haphazard places. “More naughty words on paper,” You chuff out when the weight of two books sits in your hands. The pages are pristine; probably first addition and perfectly cared for. “Always knew you High Lords were just pampered perverts.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you read the last two I brought you.”

Rhysand is sure he’ll have dreams about the pretty blush on your cheeks. He’s certain fantasies have planted their seed with intent to grow and grow like fucking ivy until nothing in sight could be see but you and that feisty furrow of your brow and the sharp roll of your eyes. Curious hands dig around the basket, sifting through cured meats and cheeses, parchment paper and oil pastels, rich fabrics and a case full of fresh sewing needles. “You trying to turn me into a fucking housewife or something? Charcuterie boards and fixing the buttons on your rich boy clothes.”

“Got a mouth on you.” Rhys chuckles in amusement, aubergine irises twinkling with silent adoration. “Someone should teach you how to use it.” You don’t seem the slightest bit ashamed when forcing him to hold onto your things, urging him to follow with a jerky nod of your head. “Could start by saying thank you.”

“Make me.”

Something in the air shifts. It alters the way he stands. Awakens a creature lurking in his shadow and its sights lock on you—the female with no fear of monsters. No, instead you hunt them, wrangle them up and tame them. Rabid beasts crooned into fucking house pets and Rhysand yearned to be the stray you took pity on. “Make you use your mouth properly? Or make you say thank you?”

“Both.” He’s hooked; shoes sinking into your footsteps until thick forestry breaks into a clearing with a house built smack dab in the middle. It’s surrounded by flowers, lavender and lemongrass guarding hand built basins labeled with fresh produce to fend off freeloading animals. Ivy creeps up one side of the greenhouse attached to the back. “Show me how to do it like they do in the books you bring me.”

Is it possible for a mouth to dry up and salivate at once? Because Rhys suddenly finds his in an odd mix of something in between. You barely notice the clumsy way he sets aside your basket of goodies but you’re fully aware of the eager way he pulls you in, stopping you from taking a step further. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You scan the length of him, running over the strong set of his shoulders and the practiced ease in the way his arms rest at his sides. Every breath strains against the soft cotton of his shirt, solid muscle radiating warmth when you rest the palm of your hand against it. It’s a slow drag down and you feel no shame for your curiosity when exploring the length of his abdomen, fingers hooking in the loop of his belt. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” The metallic click of his belt unbuckling, the sharp undoing of tied dress pants. “But, I’m a visual learner.” Rhys’ heart throbs in his chest when you sink to your knees, blood rushing lower until the true extent of his affection towards you is standing at attention in your face.

“I can help with that,” He’s already easing down the top of your shirt, groaning at the sight of bare breasts and pebbled nipples. “Though, my teaching style is a little more…hands on.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for; tugging down his pants just enough to show off a throbbing erection, ruddy tip leaking pre-cum. Two fingers tap at your cheek twice and you have no control over the way your mouth drops open.

He knows he’s being a little rougher than he should—it’s probably your first time giving head and yet he can’t slow down his movements. You don’t even complain, breathing through the way his cock is fed to you, spit glistening along the length and dribbling down your chin. “Quick learner, aren’t you?” Rhys praises so prettily, such nice words spewing free as if he wasn’t rutting his prick down your throat.

Thumbs clear away the tears from under your eyes when you gag. The rasp of his voice urging you to work harder, to hollow your cheeks and run your tongue along that vein that has blunt nails digging into the nape of your neck. Swears spill in a sloppy slur, hands guiding the bob of your head until his release shoots down your throat with a choked grunt.

There’s no way you don’t look a mess when you peer up at him. Fucked out eyes. Tears tracking down your cheeks. Bruised lips. A wet patch dripping down your chest and still you utter the words, “Thank you.”

Just perfection and something inside him screams ‘mine’ the same time Rhysand replies with a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

[arinewman7]

Bouquets

Linda Felcey

oil on linen on board

[viktorbf]

karlach!!

oil on linen board, 24cm by 18cm, 2024

available here

[iamjapanese]

Jonathan Koch（American）

Plate of Cherries 2019 Oil on linen on board 9 x 12” via

[weirdlookindog]

Dave Lebow (b. 1955) - Midnight Snack

[izzabela]

Hello there! Can you write about the reader writing a note to ask one of the Lin Kuei brothers (your choice) on a date but it goes to the wrong brother (your choice) by accident and accept the offer, but during the date, the reader ends up having a good time with the brother of your choice? 😁😁

Switcharoo - Tomas x male!reader

in which you get two brothers confused

a/n: haven't done a male reader in a while. sigh, middle-aged man yaoi...

ship[s]: tomas vrbada x male!reader

warning(s): fluff, anti-brother split kanon (aka, my own world)

As a strategist, your mind was constantly filled with ways to overcome the enemy.

Ambush attacks, traps, long or short term plans, all cards were available in order to win.

So the fact you had a cork-board in your room, with pictures of people and items pinned and connected with red thread, you knew you were in deep shit when you realized you had to strategize over and against your heart.

To make it even worse, you were strategizing your love for your clan partner, Bi Han. Grandmaster and leader to the Lin Kuei, a family with history spanning back to the ancient times of classical China.

You learned many things about leading, and though your family hasn't been around that long, the advice he gave was sound and firm. You appreciated his guidance, his ability to nurture you and still be reasonably firm. Tough love is probably the easiest way to go about describing him and his leadership.

That's the reason why you love him so much. He could be so strong for you and in front of others. He knew what he believed in, standing firm in them, and he had the strength to back it up. You wanted more than just the long nights in his office together drawing up strategies. More than training buddies.

You wanted to know why he was so devoted. You wanted to know him past the business hours of 8 am and 8 pm (midnight, if you guys are burning midnight oil to create plans). You wanted that special privilege of knowing him better than anyone else.

His brothers knew those questions, and hanging out with them was still just as special.

Kuai Liang is your older brother/reliable neighbor persona. He's confident, yet kind enough to humble himself when teaching the initiates. He praises you when necessary, and also guides you when you struggle in something. And the fruits, the amount of fruits he's given you and his brother when you two stayed up really late was insane.

Tomas follows suit in Kuai Liang's steps, though he's more of the younger brother you wished you had. Well-behaved, playful when time permits, and an optimistic young man, he was a jack of all trades. He got along with you the best, and you both complimented each other well in terms of battle and personality.

Back to the drawing board (literally), you look at the impressive plan you conjured up in asking Bi Han out: write a note asking to meet with him, take him out to Earth and to this amazing restaurant, go to the lantern release night that the local lake was hosting, and end the night watching the stars.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy- right?

Wrong. So dead wrong.

It all went wrong the next morning, when you didn't double check whether you wrote his name on it. Not only that, but the fucking paper disappeared from your desk.

Not only that, but all three brothers have been staring at you nonstop. You tried to ignore it, but even Bi Han stared at you- and that's what made you twitchy and shifty around everyone. Still, you pushed through the day as if it was normal.

As night fell upon the Lin Kuei compound, you waited patiently in front of your room's door for Bi Han to come to you. To offer his arm and hold it as you two walked together to Earth and go on your date.

"Ah... (y/n)?" a light voice calls your name.

That for sure isn't Bi Han.

Your head snaps up like a cow interrupted from his grassy meal, and your eyes meet a, oddly attractively dressed, Tomas.

He's in simple black linen pants, a grey tee, and some slip-on sneakers. His hair is a bit unkept, but it fits the style of "woke up like this", and he pulls it off effortlessly.

By the elder gods, had he always been this handsome?

"T-Tomas? What are you doing here?" you ask, head looking around for Bi Han.

He's looking at you with a puzzled face, "You asked me here? The note you gave me... was that not addressed to me?"

You both have a comic book moment: look at each other, look at the note in his hands, and back at each other. Oh elder gods, you fucked up.

You crumple in yourself, back hitting your door as you slid down and hid your head in your arms. Tomas is nervous, frantic as he kneels to your level, unsure of what to do. You sigh deeply, heavily- any synonym that describes the dread that plagued your soul.

"It was... it was for your brother," you answer truthfully. "I had begun liking him over my stay here, and well.... I wanted to ask him out."

Tomas smiles, tapping your shoulder as he holds a hand out for you to grab. You look up from your safe haven of barred arms, and you notice how oddly happy he is.

"I know that I was not your choice originally," he begins, "But you must've spent a long time figuring this all out. Knowing you, you must've planned a map out in your room connecting even your choice of words!"

You blink first, before bursting out in a laugh. Taking his hand, you're lifted from the ground. You're not going to pester him now, but later you will ask if he peeped in your room.

Tomas flips open the paper note again, "So, the first stop was a restaurant? What's served there?"

"Wait," you stop him. "You're actually going?" You re-clarify with him again, and he nods.

"As said, you spent a long time with this, no doubt. Why not use it instead of sitting around? Maybe it'll be good practice for the real thing."

You nod, staring at him for a couple more seconds before moving to his side to walk together. From your room, down to the courtyard and entrance, you enter a portal and are transported to the front of an barbecue spot native to your town.

"What is this?" he asks.

"Korean barbecue! My family had been talking so much about it, and Johnny took me and I fell in love. All of you like to eat, and I figured this might have been a good spot for Bi Han..."

Tomas chuckles, "Brother is a stickler to his diet. Often times, he does not fall into cheat days or any corner-cutting. Kuai Liang or I would be the ones who enjoy the big meals."

You nod, "Mental note."

Entering in, you two were immediately guided to your table, and you picked out meats that suited both of you. Tomas chose the lean beef and some of the fatty pork, though you were a wild card of foods.

As the meat you ordered was coming out, you two drowned out the noise of your grumbling stomachs with casual conversation. Tomas played finger games, like sticks, as he talked about his week. Initiates, missions, personal training, paperwork- the whole shebang on running a clan.

Instead of making it sound like a record player, he retold his stories like a novel. Filled with little anecdotes of the world around him, little mentions of his friends and brothers, and personal insights on his view of his family, it was more than enjoyable to listen to him ramble on.

He was a song you'd hit replay over and over again.

Even through dinner, as he took over grilling the meat and veggies, he listened to you as you talked about your day. How you spent the entire last few weeks to conjure up a plan for Liu Kang. How you felt crushed about the responsibility of leading your people- the ups and downs of your life was like a poem to him.

One he could reread over and over, without getting bored.

Gosh, the date too. He fed you with his chopsticks, slathered your meat with side dishes, even got up to get you both bowls of rice because you didn't want to get up. His love-language is definitely acts of service.

Once dinner was finished, you had lied to him in saying you're going to the bathroom. In reality, you were going to get the bill before he'd notice.

"What?" you asked the waiter. "What do you mean it's been footed?"

The young lady just nods, "Your date, I presume, paid earlier."

You look back to Tomas, who sat in his seat patiently and quietly. When he saw you, his eyes lit up as he waved. You wave back weakly, and he stands up to meet you as you're about to head out.

"When did you have time to foot the bill?" you ask him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"A sorcerer never reveals his secrets," he held a finger to his lips, winking.

You slapped yourself, probably out of fear, probably out of horniness. Whatever it was, you wanted to move on to the final portion to the date.

The lake the lantern night was being hosted on was nearby, just a couple of blocks away. It's also good to get the gas released.

As you both walked, the conversations never died down. From running after one another, piggyback rides, and casual hand-holding, this night felt way better than any other date you had been on.

As you two neared the lake, you immediately light up (haha so punny) at how many lanterns have been lit and written on. Flashes of colored pen on the fabric, the chatter of the various couples and families, it filled your heart with joy.

"There is a festival like this back at home," Tomas notes as you two walk closer to a volunteer. He grabs the lantern and cheap marker, and you egg him to go on.

"It usually happens in February and March. Lunar New Year, our special tradition of sending lanterns up in the air near midnight." You smile softly, the thought of Tomas in the Lin Kuei's traditional attire warming your face.

You turn away quickly, taking the fabric from his hands as you write your wish. He sets up the metal frames that are to hold it up.

"What'cha writing there?" he asks, peeking over your shoulder as he's halfway done with the lantern frame. You hid the fabric in your chest, head close to his, and his lips dangerously close to yours.

You pull away, but the glimmer of the metal catches your eye. He's finished with the frame, and now he sits waiting for you to be finished with the fabric and your wish.

"Take it, it's your turn to write anyways," you shove it into his (deliciously plush) chest.

Like a child, he turns his back to you as he scribbles away on the fabric. You try to peak over like he did, but he's so much bigger than you, and an inch of movement is enough to cover everything in front of him.

Worse, he already slipped it over the lantern.

"Hey! You saw my wish!" you yell, trying to pounce and grab the lantern. He holds it up and away, your arms flailing uselessly as you jump and grab nothing but air.

"Are you two ready?" another volunteer asks, a lighter in her hands. Tomas quickly rushes over, setting the lantern in front of her to get it lit up. At this point, you were getting pissed.

You can't let him know that you wished for Tomas to like you.

Yeah, yeah, how the mighty have fallen. Something something, switch-up- all the names in the book for your flip-flopping feelings. Is it your fault though? With Tomas here, it's actually been good because you finally reevaluated your feelings about Bi Han.

You never liked Bi Han, you liked the idea of what he could be. You liked Bi Han with the idea of someone else's personality- and that person was Tomas.

Tomas swiftly, yet gently, lifts the lantern up into the air, and you pout and whine over the fact the words Tomas wrote for his wish grow tinier and tinier. You sigh, laying on your back to the grass as you catch your breath.

"Sneaky bastard, what did you even write?" you ask between exhausted breaths.

He just repeats the same message he gave you earlier.

"A sorcerer never reveals his secrets," a playful smile accompanied with a wink.

You stare back at the lantern that now joins with its brethren in the sky, a collage of light yellow hues against the dark evening. The words of the people around, wishes and hopes, collided to create the manifestations of the humans around you.

As you watch the sky, Tomas watches you lovingly, the thoughts of his writing overtaking his mind.

I wish for a shot, not a practice run. With him and only him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay definitely not a burn out anymore, i fear i'm cooking with requests again

though, requests are gonna remain closed because i am setting up new things i'm writing for

aight see yall in the next fic!

[filmoflifeburst]

POV: You break into a private room at the Walden.

You drank so much that you couldn’t find your way back. Driven by the effects of alcohol, you wandered up the stairs next to the restroom to the second floor of the Walden. This level was usually reserved for distinguished guests, with numerous mysterious private rooms lined up. Strangely, it seemed unusually quiet today. From the last room, you heard the voices of a few men in conversation, interspersed with a cold, female voice. Recklessly, you guessed it belonged to a young woman. Something about it seemed familiar—was it the daughter of your neighbor, one of your teachers from boarding school, or a news anchor on the radio? Driven by curiosity, you rashly approached the curtain, hoping to hear more of that voice. You stood still for a few seconds like a lurking eavesdropper, but then someone lifted the curtain. No, two people did.

The first figure you saw was a man in a sharp suit standing closest to the woman with her back to you. The second was a man who looked like a Sicilian mercenary—you guessed his profession based on his sly, cruel grin. Behind him stood the barkeeper of the Walden. Forget Me Not frowned and then tilted his chin upward. It was hard to tell whether his expression conveyed contempt or resignation, but it was likely no different from the arrogance he often displayed without effort.

Finally, the only woman present slowly turned to face you. You didn’t recognize her, and in that instant, you regretted barging in. Her face bore an expression, but her features were as blank and innocent as a sheet of white paper. Her eyes were a muted gold, and her long hair was braided and draped down her back. Like Forget Me Not and the young man standing beside her—who you guessed was no older than eighteen, perhaps younger—she was dressed predominantly in black and white. Yet, she appeared the simplest of them all. Her plain black linen dress bore no patterns, resembling the austere style of a nun in penance. Suddenly, you realized what lingered in her expression was a mixture of compassion and innocence, two unrelated emotions. Then, your gaze fell upon the pure gold short staff she held tightly in her hand, gripping it like a dagger.

You remembered the rumors about this bar. She was an arcanist, a witch, and that was her wand — wrapped with a snake that flicked its tongue! You wanted to flee, but your feet seemed rooted to the ground. The figures behind the curtain became like a frozen oil painting, all staring at you in various ways: with pity, indifference, disdain, or malice.

Then you heard her voice again, devoid of emotion: “I’m sorry.”

Ah, she was a venomous snake without a hiss. That was the last truth you realized.

*Commission

*My OCs and Pavinot

[polkadotmotmot]

Piers Alsop - Large loaf with seven mushrooms (after Ed), 2024 - Oil on linen board

[chasingrainbowsforever]

Pineapple With Blue Background

Elena Climent , 2021. 

Mexican, b. 1955

Oil on linen on board, 11 x 8.5 in.