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Flower Power 💐🤎

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“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace”

— Oscar Wilde (The Canterville Ghost)

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“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace”

— Oscar Wilde (The Canterville Ghost)

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she who walks in the valley of starlight

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‘’The Lady and the Stag‘’

I’ve always been fascinated by mythology, and most have stories that are sexual and somewhat strange, but beautiful (like the stories of Loki and Zeus that involve humans and animals)

For this drawing I imagined feral Nimmeth, goddess of decay as a more Sphinx like creature, mating with an ancient king of the forest (inspired by an Irish elk).

As she drinks from the stream of water that forms in his antlers, her antlers start to grow and the stag will give his life and fertility through her, as if becoming one. His body will decay, leaving only his skeleton, of which his antlers will grow into a tree and his bones will form the roots.

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i think about this scene all the time

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Meirl

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she’s doing god’s work

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Memes & Comedy

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“He had five daughters. And whenever he came home from a work trip, we’d all line up to give him a kiss. But he always kissed my mom first, because she was his ‘first love.’ Then he went on to his ‘second love,’ and his ‘third love.’ On weekends we’d all pile into the car and take these long road trips. We’d drive for hours, and the whole way he’d be singing to my mother. It was a normal thing for us, because we were used to it. But that kind of affection wasn’t normal in our culture. We used to have these karaoke parties with our extended family, and everyone else would sing normal songs. But Papa would choose these old, romantic Bollywood songs. And he’d sing directly to Mama. She loved every second of it. She’d get dressed up for him. She’d put on her brightest red lipstick. And she’d do her hair just as he liked it, even after she got sick. The tumor was deep in her brain. After every surgery, more and more of her would slip away. When she couldn’t walk properly anymore, she grew embarrassed of her limp. So Papa held her hand wherever they went. He’d sit next to her bed, and stroke her cheek, and recite the Quran until his lips went dry. Some nights he’d fall asleep sitting up in his chair, but then he’d wake up, and begin praying again. In her final moments, when she was slipping away, he leaned close to her and whispered: ‘You won’t be alone. I’m coming with you.’ I heard him say it. And I got so angry. It seemed selfish to me, as if the rest of us weren’t worth living for. But all his children were grown. Most of us had our own families. And I guess he felt like there was nothing left for him. Every day he visited Mama’s grave, even though we told him not to. He applied for the plot next to her, and every few hours he’d ask if the cemetery had called. He was obsessed. When the paperwork finally arrived, I rolled my eyes. But he got very quiet. For the next two days he barely said a word. Then on the third morning, he walked in our front door and told me he wasn’t feeling well. I bent down to help him with his shoes, but he collapsed on the floor. There wasn’t time for him to suffer. Because by the time the ambulance arrived, he was already gone.”

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This was a piece I did last year that was part of a charity zine featuring fat mermaids. It was a ton of fun to work on.

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Black warlock . Tap in

@brenna-ivy the artist . Dope af

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Celestrial Beings - Cherubim // Seraphim by Isis Sangaré // Instagram

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Important ideas to consider when creating characters who are black and indigenous people of color. (x)

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Artist: Yaw Onyina