#(and one of those was vent art on paper and the other one was coloring with my little sister. so i’ve drew two things on ibispaint at all) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stoopystuppy · 1 year

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crippling heathers headcanons 😭

this is just mostly the Heathers + V & JD ueueueue some of them may be OOC ueueueue

Artistic side

▪︎ McNamara:

- she'd be the type to have a cute cartoony and vibrant artstyle, and if it were the modern days, she'd definitely be an animation kid

- artstyle is very inconsistent, one second she’s doing an anime artstyle then the next she suddenly know how to draw semi-realism

- uses pen, paper, markers and colored pencils but eventually switched to digital

- isn’t afraid to try other mediums but she’s super comfortable with digital

- doodle!! doodle!! doodles!!

- vents via art

▪︎ Duke:

- she’s defo a painter kind of artist (more comfortable with oil painting), draws whatever she sees; objects, old pictures (she sometimes draw her gfs but hides it from them)

- experiments with different mediums

- she’s the type to say “lol yeah this is just a sketch” to a finished-looking output

- hates her works and probably burns them (the others cry for her but she’s like “lmao”)

▪︎ Chandler:

- isn’t really the artistic type but since she’s surrounded with artists she kinda has those amateur artstyle that doesn’t look messy but has no knowledge in anatomy and such

- draws a lot of clothing designs (likes to draw floral designs)

- her gfs support her and they try to make her designs real and they wear it for her

- she just draws for fun or if she’s bored

▪︎ Veronica:

- can’t draw for shite, very messy and shaky hands because of coffee and little to no experience

- the type to draw pp for fun

- but fr, she would attempt to do realism and loves drawing with graphites

- does scenery artworks and portraits

- combines traditional and digital (linework in traditional, colorwork in digital)

▪︎ JD:

- the type to draw small edgy stickmen but when he draws seriously its like he's a facking god

- draws in a monotone color (usually black)

- comfortable with using only charcoal and graphites

- throws his art away (the only thing he and Duke bonds over /j)

▪︎ Martha:

- SHE HAS THE ANIME ARTSTYLE!!!

- loves drawing animals (especially ponies)

- she and McNamara do collabs together

Playing instruments

▪︎ Veronica:

- plays the acoustic and electric guitar, maybe some drums but she likes playing the acoustic guitar more

- plays the ukulele time to time

- she's also learning to play the bass (being taught by JD)

- ironically plays the clarinet

▪︎ McNamara:

- just likes playing the recorder and drums, had lessons for both

- she also plays maracas and harmonica bc she likes annoying her gfs

- is being taught the guitar by Veronica

- loves learning different kind of instruments, although they don’t get used anymore once she finds a new instrument to play (tho if there are similar functions, the skill will go over it)

▪︎ Duke:

- was most likely forced to play the violin

- is learning other instruments via her gfs’ and recently fell in love playing the drums

- being taught the drums by both Veronica and McNamara :]

▪︎ Chandler:

- more on vocal but was forced to play the harp or/and piano

- does duets with Duke <3

- LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE THAT DOESN’T PLAY THE DRUMS BETWEEN THE FOUR OF THEM

- and also the only one that doesn’t have any plans on learning or hoarding other instruments because she’s burnt out with playing the two

▪︎ JD:

- pianist and a self-taught bassist

- his mom was supportive of him playing the piano and he had piano lessons when she was still around but he stopped learning when she’s gone because he didn’t want to be reminded of her for the longest time

- bought his own bass with his own earned money to distract himself and learned it instead

- good thing for him too because it wasn’t as loud as the piano so his dad doesn’t scold him

- every single time he sees or/and touches a piano, he feels his mom around and would be emotional, he doesn’t have any plan on coming back but gets sentimental when he gets a chance to play it

Texting/Chatting style

▪︎ McNamara:

- loves using tone indicators and often uses them in her messages

- she types really fast and would make a lot of typos but fixes them

- doesn’t care about punctuations and would elongate her words

- loves loves loves using emoticons because she thinks its cute :D especially these ones; ٩(＾◡＾)۶ , (ᗒᗣᗕ) ՞, (づ ◕‿◕ )づ , (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) , (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

- loves using (yellow) emojis like; 💛✨🎉👑🧀

- enjoys keyboard smashing and using caps lock because she thinks it shows her excitement on things or shows how upset she is; "DHMJDKWODUQKOSHWJISJSJZ!!!!!!" and "hdjsksjnsnsnkz"

- laughs in either keyboard smash or “hehe”

- ex;

Mac-a-: Guysssss i splled milk n the bed :((( /srs

Mac-a-: spilled* on* sowwy ╥﹏╥ fnkfianmkf /lu

—--------

Mac-a-: UWUWEUUWEUWEUWUEWUEWUU✨✨✨✨✨✨

Chandy: ????

▪︎ Veronica:

- uses tone indicator a lot for McNamara, Martha and JD

- has good punctuation and grammar but does not give a damn about capitalization nor does she put periods at the end of her messages (unlike a certain someone)

- uses "lol" "lmao" and etc in a lower caps

- sends copypasta bc she thinks its funny

- the only time she uses caps lock is when she's screaming or laughing

- ex;

-Ronnie: is anyone up for pizza? /genq

-Ronnie: no? well, that's alright /nm

—--------

-Ronnie: cum

Chandy: y am i dating u

▪︎ Chandler:

- she isn’t really up to date with tone indicators and one time someone was ranting and she’s just “ok what the hell is a /neg” and then everyone just screamed at her (via chat form) and told her to shut up (only V and M did that) and that JD was venting lmfao

- she later was then taught about tone indicators and uses it sometimes (only with McNamara)

- uses emojis a lot and laughs with emoji; 😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣

- T A K E S H O U R S TO RESPOND but expects you to respond to her quickly 😭

- she’s too lazy to type so she either uses auto-correct/predictive text thingy to continue her sentences or she literally just have missing letters in her words and go like “wht u doin??”

- her texts are literally either “r u hre? ive been waitin 4 u🙄😒😪” or “Are You Here? I’ve Been Waiting For You 🙄😒😪” (auto-correct/predictive text)

- followed by that is 3791874218 missed calls from her

- IRONICALLY SENDS THOSE “GOOD MORNING” GIFS FHIWAINFISAF and McNamara’s the only one who hearts it and replies with a “GOOD MORNING!!!”

▪︎ Duke:

- talking to her would literally be like talking to a bot or reading a research paper, bc of that she’s such a dry texter

- girls got proper punctuation, proper grammar and capitalization, EVERYTHING

- often gets annoyed when she sees grammar mistakes and would fix it for the person

- will literally type a whole paragraph scolding you to type better

- doesn’t laugh in “haha’s”, just uses “lol” in lowercase, uses "lmao" after every offense towards others or herself

- barely text/chat and would rather just vc and send vm instead and then McNamara and Chandler join her and they all just started sending vms (V: w..what?)

- ex;

Dandy: Don't forget, we have an assignment due later at 4PM.

Mac-a-: waIT WHAT??!?!

—--------

Dandy: I hate myself lmao.

Chandy: dont 😐😘💞

Dandy: K.

—--------

Dandy: I want to kill someone.

John Doe: same.

Pony Martha: You guys are /j right? 😊😊

Dandy: *seen*

John Doe: *seen*

Mac-a-: aRE YALL /J OR /SRS!??!!??!?!?!??!

▪︎ JD:

- types slowly and somehow still makes typos and he doesn't fix them

- he just lets other people interpret what he's typing because he doesn't give a damn about them

- nor does he give a damn about proper punctuation and grammar although he adds a period at the end of his messages

- just uses tone indicators for Martha, Veronica and McNamara

- uses emojis but only the edgy looking ones; 🖤💔🔪🔫⚰🥀

- laughs in “haha’s” and doesn’t use acronyms

- ex;

John Doe: wnns sese my hmsrerz.

Chandy: what

-Ronnie: sure

John Doe: *sends pics of his hamsters*

—--------

Chandy: istg ur worse than me

John Doe: slay.

#heathers the musical #heathers #heather chandler #heather mcnamara #heather duke #veronica sawyer #jason dean #martha dunnstock #heathers headcanon #implied poly heathers + V #believe it or not but i have more ahuehuehue #randof stuffs

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eviltext · 9 months

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i went to a local art gallery the other day! it deserves a good long chatty post so here it is !

so this gallery is riiiight in the middle of the busiest part of town, aka the main road, so it's really accessible and approachable for locals and tourists alike. it's dedicated to the work of a local family of artists: Irina Lebedeva, a widow who works on quilts, her late husband Mikhail who made sculptures from found objects and graphic art, and their son Dmitriy who is a ceramic artist.

the building itself has a history that goes wayy back. built in the first quarter of the 1800s to serve as a protestant church (chapel?) for a wealthy merchant's wife, it's one of the oldest in town (among those that were built for people to actually live in). it was later sold a couple of times and seemed to be the hottest venue for balls and socialite gatherings. they retained the house's inital floorplan, keeping their changes minimal and mostly purely for function, allowing it to serve as kind of a blank canvas for the art displayed inside. i have mixed feelings on this decision. sure, i love old houses and their charm, but i'm not too fond of the old staircase that's severely eroded. a nice detail they kept functional was all the old vents and a quaint little balcony with a view:

however the bare brick walls don't work too well with the quilts (i keep trying to type tapestries and correct myself. they're quilts.). bare brick is kind of a busy backdrop for the bold and bright fabrics.

moving on to the artworks themselves, the quilts are stunning to look at. they were made by Irina Lebedeva, who has been making fabric art since she was a kid who locked herself up in her parents' closet with scissors. by about 12 she made clothes for herself and her dolls. her quilts are colorful, heavily patterned and very masterfully made. most have an abstract geometric pattern,

others tell a story (cell division and night city lights were my favorite)

or showcase a scene. and some of them are huuuge! the sizes range from about the size of a large pillowcase to around the size of a door frame.

Irina Lebedeva is a remarkably skilled artist and craftswoman who still continues to work to this day.

her late husband Mikhail is also an artist in his own right, though his works are a bit more grounded and familiar to gallery goers (?). it's stated on the information stands that he made sculptures from found objects like old screws and buttons and such. i wasn't able to find a lot of these on display apart from this horse:

most of his works featured in the gallery are very quaint depictions of the town and its people. old houses, a busy market, churches, fountains and cozy little nooks in the town's underbelly. these are done in a charming graphic style on toned paper.

it really makes me want to pick up some charcoal and the wad of packing paper i used for plen-air sketching some years ago. well, someday i'll do it! it's interesting to note that both he and his wife are alumni of the college i studied at!

their son Dmitriy is a ceramic artist, and his work has a special place in my heart as i'm aiming to be one as well.

he works with red clay and uses primarily traditional techniques. these not only yield a whimsical and cute look to his sculptures, but serve to keep these ancient practices alive for longer. among the techniques he uses are milking and blackening for finishing, apart from the usual glaze or burnishing. most of the sculptures he has on display are also whistles! this is also part of a traditional local craft.

what i like about applied arts is that they are allowed to let go of the snobbism and elitism or fine art. they're also very approachable to the general public. the bulk of applied artists come from a humble upbringing. also the sculptures can be silly and funny-looking!

one of my favorites from these is the little guy #8, which is simply named "beast" <- pretty on the nose lol that is definitely a beast.

the centerpiece of the gallery is a sculpture group by Irina Lebedeva, which depicts many of the most instantly recognizable buildings in town.

any local would be able to tell you what most, if not all of these buildings are! we have the old round mosque and minaret, the big orthodox cathedral in town, most of the old merchant mansions, the old market with its thick columns are all cherished parts of the town's image. of course, they aren't really arranged this way in real life. but this composition serves as like a bite sized look into the history of the town.

what's also a sweet touch is that this gallery is a venue for many master-classes and art lessons! i really love that this project continues this recent trend of leaning into the approachable artistic aspect of the town's identity. as a gallery it's open to the public only a few days a week, but when it is, it's extremely affordable and accessible to most of the townspeople. however it's not wheelchair accessible. being located on the second floor of the building, access is blocked by the aforementioned eroded staircase. but all in all, it's a sweet little spot to go and shield yourself from the town's bustle if you don't really have anything to do. and if you catch it open.

#p #i gotta. have a tag for longer bloggier posts #longpost #art gallery #ceramics #quilt art #quilting #id in alt text #sorry for the janky photography i'm not a pro

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lostlegendaerie · 11 months

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I can't tell if you're genuinely asking for help with floor design, or if you're just venting to the void with a problem- if you're just venting please disregard this message. My parents were hoarders I was left to store their stuff in manageable ways until they slowly collected more. I had some thoughts of what I might do/have done if I were in your shoes while looking at your floorplan Making a model floorplan to move items around without Actually Moving The Items Around is brilliant and an excellent idea, honestly. You might change your mind anyway if you move furniture off of it, but you'll have a much better idea on how to work with your space and will save your arms/back 1a) If you want to just stack boxes in the "HELP" room, put it on the side guests would see less. So if they spend most of their time in the Living Room, put it against that same wall (and vice versa if they spend more time in the dining room). Then a floor lamp or other tall/thin storage unit could get put on the end they'd still see to better hide it from view in the adjacent room 1b) Depending on how much depth there is from the entry way or dining room walls to the wall of the desk+PC area, you could also make a temporary or permanent curtain fixture to hide the boxes behind. The curtain could add color to the room and you could pin art on it. It would also leave everything behind it easily accessible and guests wouldn't see the boxes at all. Maybe buying a tall shelving unit and attaching the curtain to the top level? - Bookshelves/Cubbies with Baskets. Anything that looks presentable can just sit on the shelves, and things that you'd use monthly can be put into a basket on it to still look nice. Maybe the electronics/PC parts could serve as decoration? A small lamp could then sit on top of the shelf to light the room a bit - Alternative to a bookshelf, get a dresser. If the drawers are deep enough you may be able to put boxes right in. Things you use more often in a higher drawer, things you use less often in lower drawers. With a dresser you wouldn't need to decorate any shelves, just the top of it - Vacuum cleaner can honestly just go wherever it fits. As long as it is out of the way with the chord up, and (maybe) empty, it'll look fine. I personally wouldn't have an issue if I saw a vacuum neatly out in someone's house - Depending on what and how big your tools are, they could be stored in your vehicle instead (if you have one). If you need them frequently inside this might not be a good option though. Otherwise I personally feel the same way about tools as a vacuum cleaner: as long as they can be stored out of the way safely, it'll look fine - Put things behind your furniture. If something is thin enough to fit, and you don't use it that often, it can be stored behind the sofa. Those things will be hidden, out of the way, and easily accessible when you do need them. I have my fabric cutting boards stashed there currently - Store things under furniture too. It's a chore to get things from under a bed, but for items you rarely use it gets them out of the way. I store sentimental things I can't let go of, and wrapping paper/gift stuff that I only use a few times a year - A blanket chest or a boxy bench with storage inside will also hide items if you want to add seating in "HELP" - To add lighting you might be able to get some non-christmas lights to wrap around/pin to the stair banister. If I understood correctly, the stairs are furthest from any light source (outside of anything it leads to), so it could add some brightness to "HELP" if you like that style Ultimately this is your home, the place that you're supposed to spend a majority of your life inside of. Eventually you'll be working together seamlessly, but it's not stupid or unreasonable if it's overwhelming currently <3 I wish you the best of luck figuring out a way to organize "HELP" to best suit your needs! Regardless of how you decide to design your space, I hope it becomes 100% you and brings you joy

😭😭😭

This was so kind and so thorough, thank you so much!

I've currently moved my dining room table (which I only ever used for DND) into the HELP room and am using my computer chair as a DM chair and it's working pretty good so far!!!!!

But these tips are INCREDIBLE. Put things behind the sofa!!!!! BRILLIANT!!

#thank you so much!!!

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gayelectro · 2 years

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you already Know who i'm gonna ask about for the f/o ask ( -v-)👍[bull armor]

HELL YESSSSSS I have an established brand now!

B - Before: Before you decided to make them your F/O, what did you first think of them/their source?

I know I’ve said this before, but he’s literally what got me invested in the show. The first two episodes of Iron Leaguer, I was just kinda waiting to see if this really was a show that I could get invested in. I was really skeptical, what with the sports angle and my own distaste for sports anime! But something about his episode just... Clicked in my brain! I wanted to see where all of the characters were going to go and grow!

Once I was really in deep and going through the show with FULL interest, I didn’t think I had a crush on Bull. My main ships for him were him and Top Joy and/or him and Silky! I still love those ships, of course, but I didn’t even consider self-shipping. It’s not usually something I’ve ever given much thought to. It wasn’t until my wife kept teasing me about how obvious it was to her that I was crushing on him that I came to realize it myself! We’ve been writing cute Buruburi stuff ever since!

U - Uplift: How do they help you when you’re stressed or sad and vice versa?

He’s a really good talker and listener. He gives me the space to talk freely about how I feel and that means a lot. Plus, I dunno, he always seems to have just the right thing to say to make me feel better! And it helps a ton that he’s also quite the cuddler, so not only do I get to vent out my feelings, I’m also being held and having my hair pet and all the good stuff that just makes the world not seem so bad!

L - Language: What’s their love language? What’s yours?

Okay, I’m not gonna get on my high horse about love languages. At least I don’t think I will! My main issue with love languages as a concept is I think that many people get caught up in the idea of Everyone Has One True Love Language when... I think most people have varying degrees of multiple! It seems reductive how some people will treat it like a Hogwarts House or whatever. The concept is helpful, but execution is often lost on folks. Plus, it doesn’t help that like, every time I’ve taken a love language test, I get different answers, all based on slight variations in wording. And my wife never has a consistent love language either from these tests. I just like a little bit of all the languages!

ALL THAT ASIDE...

Bull Armor’s main love languages are Quality Time and Physical Touch. Meanwhile, my main love languages are Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch. Naturally, we hold hands quite a bit!

A - Art: Do they draw or paint? What about any other kind of art? What’s their favorite style/subject/another artist who inspires them?

This one really got my brain thinking. At first, I think art and the art world would be a little bit lost on him. But once he saw something that moved him, that made him feel something, he’d really get what it’s all about. I could see him coming home from an art museum and just throwing himself into a new hobby of abstract art. He’d like the kind of messy “throw a whole bucket of paint at a canvas and smear it with your hands” kind of stuff. And I would gladly get him a tarp. His color schemes would likely be a bit on the garish and bright side, colors clashing in unpleasant ways, but it still provokes a certain feeling.

R - Rainbow: What colors do you associate with them and why?

So, Magnum Ace is already honestly the "red guy" on this rainbow of a team. Naturally, that leaves Bull Armor as orange. I always think of him as the orange of the team! I mostly think of the accents on his helmet, which are a bit more orangey than the yellow of his horns. Then you've got his pretty big baby blue eyes, of course it makes me think of him! And then there's his adorable pink cheeks! He's got a perpetual blush going on! 💗

M - Meeting: What was your first time meeting them?

We met at the mecha hospital! I was a paper pusher and he was a nurse! We became cordial little work pals, but I split from that place and eventually, so did he. Back then there was only a work buds bond.

O - Online: What is your f/o’s social media presence like, or what would it be like if they had internet in their world/era?

I’ve got two distinct ideas for Bull Armor on Twitter and Tumblr:

Either one, the Hoizer approach, where 90% of the time it is very clear that the account is run by like a manager. Manager posting is almost always very formal, hyping up game days or autograph events. But randomly, Bull himself log on and post something that is very clearly directly from him. It’s not promoting anything, it’s just some random ass thought or feeling that he had in the moment.

Or two, more like Chafurin’s (his voice actor’s) Twitter, where he honestly just happy old man posting. Pictures of sunsets in places he’s been, ramblings about the good things in life. Very wholesome and probably has a side hobby listed in his bio instead of, like, the fact that he’s a multiple championship winning Iron Leaguer.

#long post //#Buruburi #0boko #original Buruburi content

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quohotos · 10 months

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The pains of doing digital art on a TN panel.

Huge rant/vent post so I burred it behind "read more"

It's no secret that I have never had the best kit. No. 2 pencils on printer paper, autodesk sketchbook express on a galaxy s5 and my finger (upgraded to a dollar store stylus later). My first pen digitizer had a diagonal width of like five inches and was made specifically to play Osu. I've always taken the scuffedness of my gear as a point of pride. It made all of my successes more impressive, and I could always deflect criticism by saying "eh, well my gear is pretty scuffed, maybe I'd do better if I had nicer stuff".

Then one day my screen got some dead pixels, so I replaced it with a new screen. Suddenly all the colors looked wrong, I'm used to it now, but damn those reds were really red on this new screen. It also made all of my previous stuff look different. It turned out that the old screen crushed all the blacks together, so I had tons of pieces that I remember being black but were actually very deep red. I even had some vector pieces where half the character was proper 0 0 0 black, but then the other half was 21 0 0 "black" which became very noticeable. While I thought this new screen was more color accurate, now I'm not so sure.

Because look at this guy, depending on the quality of your screen he either has ZERO eyebrows, or he has very well defined almost cartoonishly visible eyebrows. It looks fine on my screen, but the whole internet isn't going to see it on my screen are they?

On laptops, especially budget ones, the screen is usually the part that gets shafted first. You gotta cut costs somewhere, and if you cut costs on the processor or ram people will notice quickly, the screen is the part of the computer that many people (especially gamer) will admit at gunpoint they care the least about.

Okay, well why don't I just get an external screen to do the art on? Solvable problem, right? Well all the external displays I see that are within my price range have even worse color accuracy! Yeah, manufacturers see "External display" and think, "Got it, put the most dogshit colors imaginable, 300 dollars please)

My current workflow is to export the image, then see how it looks on my phone, and then go back and tweak it after the fact. Frustrating. Sad. Angry.

#digital art #rant #color accuracy

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venerabela · 11 months

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{PSNL} The First

My first actual Pokemon game was Pokemon Blue, with Pokemon Yellow following after. Charmander was my first choice, since I was big into dragons, and I knew what they evolved into. Pokemon Blue didnt have a gender system, aside from the Nidoran line, so I mis-remembered from my previous Pokemon image. I think I just imagined my Charmander being female and my over-active imagination filled in the rest of the blanks. I didnt have many friends growing up. I was bullied and treated horribly, so I treasured what few friends I did have before my Sophomore year in High School. What I lacked in friends, I made up for with my imagination. Pokemon, Digimon, His Dark Materials, Animorphs, so many of these series I grew up watching, playing, reading, and interacting with, I would create an imaginary friend for. Pikachu technically was the first imaginary friend, but Charmander was the first game in which it came to life. An original Game Boy Color that I had brought Charmander into my arms for the first time. I would imagine playing hide and seek, and other child's games. As I played through Blue, which I didnt get very far, mind you... Just far enough to evolve Charizard, my view on her changed and shifted. It taught me strategy, patience, and companionship with animals. I had a LOT of trouble with Misty, due to type disadvantages of Charmeleon with Staryu/Starmie. After a few unsuccessful fights, my mind kind of pieced together that my Charmeleon was taking quite a beating, which resulted in me taking good care of her after a bit of a battering to her face resulted in a deep scratch on her brow and cheek. Poor baby... :< Still, what little I remember past Lt Surge, outside of the game itself, I used to run out in the rain, imagining my Pokemon following happily behind. After I'd gotten wet enough that I was starting to get cold, I imagined, while sitting in front of the heat vent in my room (my room was the warmest in the house), that I was sitting against Charizard's side, umbrella'd under her wing, and being given her fiery tail to warm myself up with. It might sound kinda strange, but I've been feeling, as I turned 30 in October, that I've been making up for an underwhelming childhood... Almost like I'm having a second childhood as I go through my 30s. I'm playing a LOT of older games on older consoles, and have been taking a break from the games I normally play, like Apex and Minecraft. I feel a LOT happier with myself and I will likely be doing more images of myself with old childhood imaginings. One on my mind is that I used to have a full crew and even a main enemy in a Star Trek parody comic that I would draw on sheets of paper. I'm pretty sure my mother still has those in storage. Might go grab them and redraw them with my current artistic skill. Art and Vene © to myself

Posted using PostyBirb

#Vene #Venerabela #Pokemon #Blue #Charmander #Charmeleon #Charizard

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andswarwrites · 1 year

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Day 19

When I was little I used to watch The Disney Hour on Sundays. Whenever the movie wasn't animated, I would experience some disappointment, except if it was The Swiss Family Robinson. That one time they played Old Yeller I rebelled and I think I shut the TV off just before Old Yeller gets shot. Animation, to me, unlocked a whole world of color, animation and artwork that no other mode of storytelling could equal. And now my daughter shares my love for the craft, not only as a spectator, but already at her young age, a contributor.

As soon as N- was old enough to hold a pencil, I decided that I was going to give her a giant supply of colorful construction paper, paint, crayons, markers (I got her metallic ones. She really loved those.) And shortly after she learned her alphabet and her numbers, I taught her color theory. Well I can't take all the credit, there was a song on Youtube by Scratch Garden that taught her, of the colors of the rainbow, which three were primary and which three secondary, which ones were warm and which ones were cool. It's called The Color Song.

When I was young I loved to draw. I especially liked to draw people. Facial expressions, poses; I once made a "photo album" of my made up family with twelve kids. And I drew all twelve. I also drew a whole story involving a quest to find out whether some gems were genuine. It start off with two people shouting "They could be real!". I've continued to draw off and on over the course of my life, and when N- was old enough I showed her a few basic things, and she just took off.

From a very young age she included amazing detail in her artwork. I enjoyed coloring her art for her, because adding color drew the eye to those tiny little details she had created. N- loves animals, and she invents her very own creatures. At a young age she started to "vent" with her artwork, and at first she didn't want me to see those pictures. I explained that showing them to me helps me to understand what she is feeling, and I won't be shocked or appalled. But if she doesn't want me to see a page in her sketchbook, I respect that.

When she got her first tablet, S- and I installed an app to teach N- how to animate. We thought it might be fun for her. She didn't use it very often, so we thought maybe it wasn't her thing. When N- was old enough to go on the computer, she found a website called Flipanim, and with it she can layer artwork, doodle, and animate. She has been using that site for over five years now. She goes through phases where she only wants to draw, and then other phases where she creates complex music videos.

She follows artists on Youtube such as Neytirix and RANDOMstuff Animation who inspire her. She also likes learning about other art forms from Youtubers like Moriah Elizabeth and North of the Border. We don't have an official Art class per se, because N- spends so much free time painting, drawing, animating and more. And I do plan to teach her a course in art history as part of our curriculum next year. The important thing is that N- draws just about every single day. Because practicing her craft is essential.

I've always admired animation. I know 3D animation has been popularized, but I think artsy films like Song of The Sea have their place as well. N- agrees with me. We watched it together, and she kept commenting on the artwork and the music and how the two went hand in hand with the storytelling. When I say "artsy films", I mean stylized and with artistic merit. I'm not knocking it in any way. It's one of my favorite animated movies.

I grew up thinking Disney was the end-all and be-all of animation. I do love so many Disney movies. Not as many as I did as a kid. Growing up my tastes have changed. When I was in my teens, some friends of mine introduced me to different styles of animation. We watched Millennium Actress, and since I loved the book Watership Down, we watched the 1978 animated movie. I had to watch Millennium Actress twice, because the first time I was hoping for a happy ending, and that's not the point of the movie. Watership Down was well done, but the book is just so much better.

S-'s favorite animated TV series was Tiny Toons, so as an anniversary gift I got him the DVDs. We actually bought a lot of animated series, from Samurai Jack to Freakazoid. S- appreciates animation too. In fact, we're a family of animation geeks. That's why, when we went to see the Super Mario Movie, S- and I were enjoying it just as much as if not more than N-. We introduced her to Powerpuff Girls as a kid, we took her to see Inside Out when it came out in theaters. We're kids at heart, and we hope she will always remain one too.

I think N- has so much potential. She could earn a living as an artist, either traditional, digital, animator, musician: she has options. And if she wants to keep those gifts of hers for herself and decides to go in a completely opposite direction, she will have my full support. As long as she earns enough to pay her bills, rent and groceries, with enough to put aside for rainy days and treating herself, I'll be happy. I don't want my child to get rich and famous. I want her to use her talents in a way that brings her contentment. I want to watch what she does in life, and give her as much support as I can.

#animation #artwork #parenting

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cafe-au-lait-21 · 2 years

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Cloud Bread Bakery Headcanons

“Everyone gets a little taste of the classics and heavens when they get something from this place.” - DW. C. Loaf (Undertale Sans)

- At least he has a bit more energy than Cloud, so someone takes care of the finances and customer issues when the Papyri aren’t around

- Tends to mess around with Creampuff and Sprinkle’s recipes for fun, like secretly adding ketchup to the cherry danishes, much to the misfortune of the customers who unknowingly eat his “creative” interpretations

- If you laugh at his jokes enough times (hence him warming up to you) then you’ll slowly find yourself buying cheaper bread or pastries on his good days. He also starts sneaking a few extra treats in with your orders as he grows to like you.

- Loaf puts all the phone numbers and contact info people try to give to Cloud in his book of numbers for prank calls. He does this all the time. It’s a planner notebook absolutely stuffed with business cards, scraps of paper and napkins.

- Takes a lot of joy in teasing and embarrassing the other members of the Bakery. Especially in front of those who like them. Cloud mainly because the two of them are usually together.

Creampuff (Undertale Papyrus)

- He knows accounting and can take care of the overall paperwork.

- He is a little underhanded when it comes to manipulating Cloud’s fan club into paying for merchandise of him, no matter how trivial.

- Has the strongest healing magic amongst the brothers and was the first one out of the four of them to take refuge in the Omega Timeline.

Cloud (Outertale Sans)

- You can always find him asleep at the front counter. Sometimes with Loaf beside him. He’ll still get you your pastries and bread, but it’ll be with blue magic.

- When he sneezes, it’s stardust and it’s beautiful.

- Has freckles that sparkle like stars and brighten every time he yawns. (Which is a lot.) Blushes in galaxy colors.

- Surprisingly skilled at running a business - when he actually has the energy to do so.

- Has a following of locals who come into the shop every morning just because they “secretly” crush on him… he knows this, but still gets bashful when reminded.

- His Official Fan Club is called “The Storm” and they’re all more than willing to buy merchandise of him, despite him not knowing the extent of their devotion.

Sprinkle (Outertale Papyrus)

- An absolute master at cake decorating - best in the city by far, his cakes are incredible works of art

- Loves anything star themed and incorporates the shape into everything he can - many of the laminated pastries have this shape and even the vent slashes in the bread loaves are stars.

- Everything he creates is extremely pic-worthy and he’s made the bakery rather famous via social media

- The first time he met Peppermint, Sweet Pea, and Chrysanthemum he just about died of sheer joy at seeing their starry irises…this may be part of the reason why he hangs out at Treehouse so often.

- A bit less energetic than Creampuff and likes to take time off, but still has an excellent work ethic.

- His favorite food are purple shooting star shaped sprinkles that are specially made by and for the bakery.

#Café AU Lait #Cloud Bread Bakery #Headcanons #UTMV #Undertale #Cloud Bread #The Storm #Loaf (Undertale Sans)#Creampuff (Undertale Papyrus)#Cloud (Outertale Sans)#Sprinkle (Outertale Papyrus)#Omega Timeline #Omega City

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beware-of-you-98 · 3 years

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BAU as College Professors AU

*cracks knuckles*

Penelope

penelope is a graphic design professor

she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!

hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion

(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)

(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)

(she really hates both applications sm 😭)

is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly

(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)

teaches photography!!

encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!

she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot

teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!

she always has music playing!!

half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk

when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names

“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”

she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that

and the students just accept it

her office light is always off

but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up

her office is v inviting!!!

students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao

she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well

a ray of sunshine tbh!!

Spencer

teaches major science and math courses

he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry

it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors

but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors

it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better

he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes

he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis

he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is

he is two extremes

he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture

or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”

on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not

he helps them with their homework

penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating

he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat

he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus

sometimes even his students are older than he is

but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill

his office is a disorganized mess

there’s files and papers all over his desk

and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)

psychology professor

she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology

(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)

she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh

but she’s young

and she’s attractive

and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like

she’ll respect her students if they respect her

she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected

if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately

she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester

once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill

she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan

(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)

sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her

she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)

some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week

(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)

always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets

her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in

she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)

(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)

she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)

her desk is very organized and clean!!

there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open

sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to

they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)

Emily

teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors

spanish, french and russian

(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)

she’s actually very intimidating lmao

students are so scared of her 😭

she’s serious af

(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)

(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)

(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)

always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match

she also wears expensive watches

she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour

one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class

she didn’t even yell at him, she glared

rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that

(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)

despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take

one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand

and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to

students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french

she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class

if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately

she brings in her cat sometimes

he’s all black and his name is sergio

(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)

he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk

if he meows, she accepts it as an answer

it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft

well

other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them

her office is pretty organized like jj’s

instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side

she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf

she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in

on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her

(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)

really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop

Derek

teaches history classes

but like modern history

from like 1940s to present

he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all

in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it

how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???

he graduated under one of the best historians in the country

he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events

that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters

every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)

that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)

this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk

he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching

his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself

he’s always dressed super casual!!

solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)

he gets along with all the students

he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects

he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!

he brings in clooney so much

like... every friday

it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!

he and penelope are dating

his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺

he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch

he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!

other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s

he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together

his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)

both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in

Hotch

law professor

is the most intimidating professor on campus

seriously

if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner

he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions

his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles

his attire and appearance is always so professional

suits

ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him

shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them

hair always styled neatly

pants and jacket are always wrinkle free

his classes are difficult

not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching

students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to

he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom

if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense

they actually know hotch

they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie

he always lets them hang in his office with him

he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him

he has lunch with emily every other day

even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her

he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows

and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers

jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes

he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about

(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)

penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures

(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)

speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them

his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner

he always has his lights off and his door shut

he seems so unapproachable, especially in class

but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page

or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase

and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them

and it almost reassures the students that he is human

Rossi

actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor

is a retired fbi agent

and successful author

so like that hasn’t changed from canon

but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets

he’ll be like

talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83

and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential

he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo

penelope actually never made him a sculpture

instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)

carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”

(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)

(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)

he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!

he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”

he gives off kind old grandpa vibes

and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement

but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take

(plus he really does love to teach)

he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent

he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books

he writes a different quote on his board every single day

his attire is always business casual

he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy

he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room

his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom

his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”

he has no idea what the fuck that means

but he take it as a compliment

his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao

he doesn’t do paperwork

or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)

so he has no need for an office

#criminal minds au #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jennifer jereau #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotch hotchner #david rossi #honestly not much has changed about rossi from canon #but #ye #also #half of these are based on my college experiences lmao #my history professor brought his pair of poodles to class like every other week and it was the only reason i didn’t drop the class #my math professor walked into class one morning and just fucking box jumped up onto a fucking desk for no reason #during dead week my graphic design professor let us watch katy perry music videos for an entire class period it was grear #my gd studio professor was a weird dude but his class was so much fun #i’m still pressed about professors not responding to my emails tbh #professors: email me if you have any concerns or questions #me: (emails profs)#profs: (never respond or even read emails)#fuck right off lmao #long post #emily has a sculpture now pls #college professor au

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fandomfluffandfuck · 3 years

Note

more Thots™ i'm feeling emo bc i just wrote some letters to my pen pals. not a request, just a thot dump

i like to think that stucky would handwrite letters to each other when they're out of town for long periods of time. they seem like the type to send snail mail. mostly it's when steve's gone for diplomacy reasons, bc bucky is Retired™

steve because he staunchly supports USPS and wants that specific government institution to thrive, and

bucky because he's sentimental and enjoys having cute little envelopes and cards and stationery around the house and his room with steve's handwriting on it 🥺🥺

i can also see them going to a local bookstore n shopping for cute stationery, pens, etc. bucky 100% has a messy desk and needs to clean it off to write one. he has a million pens to choose from. he likes fountain pens n wax seals.

steve is still heavily regimented and used to the Rules the allies drilled into him so his desk is neat, he has one normal ballpoint pen. boring. bland. lame. but bucky still loves him anyway and cherishes every single letter he gets.

also i'm 100% using your hiatus as an excuse to out myself. hi! sorry i disappeared for a bit. i'm gonna miss those massive paragraphs while ur in school but i have a feeling peach & i are gonna be filling your dashboard with lots of Thots™ anyway 😈😈

- formerly 🎁

Hey!!

I've been seeing you in my notifications and it's nice to pair your asks with your blog! Pen pals are super fun lol Also- apologies for not answering this prior, it got lost in my asks unfortunately! Forgive me <3

Yes! I agree. They totally love actually writing physical letters. Not just emails that they pretend are like letters.

(I can see both Bucky and Steve getting into the art of letter writing, thick, pulpy paper, fountain pens, pressed flowers, scents sprayed inside the envelope, wax seals on the outside. All of it. Bucky I can see because a) he's a romantic at heart and b) he will do as a damn well pleases now that he's retired. Including acting like a grandpa. And Steve because he's an artist at heart.)

Oh my g o d I didn't read your reasoning before I wrote that ^

Your reasons too. AH! Yes. Yes. Yes.

Steve trying to single handedly uphold the postal service haha and-

Bucky's sentimental, romantic self coming out. Induldgently buying himself all the pretty, expensive paper and pens and cards and envelopes he wants. Smiling everytime he goes past a little peice of Steve; his heart scrawled out from his chest to his fingertips on paper for him and only him. Bucky's heart fluttering when he sees one of the first letters Steve wrote him after the ice and after his own freedom, when they were together again. It's a full three pages - front and back of each page - of I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I lov- written in his best, prettiest script. Because its true and also because now he can write it and it's not only LEGAL but also not something that will be redacted (had he dared write it down before), lost to time and ugly, thick, black lines over otherwise perfectly good paper, marking the eyes of someone else peeping in. Knowing their voices, their handwriting, their secrets.

Y e s

They totally go on little excursions/dates to local book shops!

I can see Bucky’s messy desk in my head and I can also hear how he would cross his arms, roll his eyes, and huff while admitting, okay, yes, he does tease Steve all the time for having so many goddamn colored pencils of the same color, so many fucking pencils that're all the same, and enough sketchbooks to cover the entire floor of their apartment but c'mon... he just needs some more pens. Like, c'moooon, Steve, don't you want a handwritten letter in pretty, sparkly pink gel pen? Mmm yes, I see the wax seal and the fountain pens!

Yeah, I see that. During a sketching or drawing session, especially if its a vent one, is when Steve's desk can get messy. Pencils and pencil shavings all over the place. Paint flecks over his fingers and hands and forearms, smeared over his cheek too probably. But he always cleans after he's done, so when he's writing, he's neat and orderly. Okay though- you said one ballpoint pen and I just. I have this one ballpoint pen myself, black ink, that I'm now imagining Steve would LOVE. I cannot explain how smooth the ink is and how satisfying the weight of the pen is. Like. I literally, when I got it, made up sentences to write down for no goddamn reason because it's such a good pen. Doesn't cramp your fingers or anything. I see Steve with a pen like that. One that he adores too much to part with, y’know? It's a good mass, a good rolling tip, and encourages him to be comfortably lulled into writing a lot.

Hi yeah!! As aforementioned, sorry I didn't get to this earlier! But I 1000% look forward to seeing you and peach (@theelectricpeach) on my dash! I love both you guys so much <3 <3 <3

Thank you for dropping your Thoughts™️

#asks #🎁 anon #jordansspot #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #fluff #pen pal babies #anon provided writing

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baepop · 4 years

Text

Muse

You meet a quiet painter that helps you manage your anger.

Word Count: 4.7k

Pairing: You x Taehyung

Genre: Slight fluff, slight angst, Smut

A/N: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I had to sit down and write it out this afternoon. I hope you guys like it 🥺

What are you thinking?

The pinkish hue of your cheeks had long subsided now, though the heaving in your chest still remained albeit at a minimal level. The part in your lips prevailed as well, if only to huff the stray hairs falling over your face occasionally.

The rest of your hair was sprawled across the back of his couch like wild seaweed. Your favorite necklace rested in the crook of your collarbone as the dainty chain tickled your sensitive neck. Goosebumps broke out across your arms as they, too, were strewn across the couch. Your pose wasn’t ideal, but you knew it was exactly how he wanted you, so you wouldn’t get up to close the window letting in a cold draft.

His apartment was quaint, a studio on the upper west side that resided above a bodega and a taqueria. You’ve had many opportunities to take it all in, yet somehow there was always something new to discover whenever your eyes wandered.

You pondered if this was all a big metaphor with some grand artistic meaning about how it somehow represented his mental state. How he, such a quiet and minimal person could be happy in such a cluttered apartment on one of the busiest streets in the city was beyond you. You peered at the ostentatious wallpaper juxtaposed with the exposed brick behind him. Paintings lent up against the walls on the ground, stacked against each other, even in the kitchen. Only one word came to mind: loud.

Your eyes eventually came back to him, and when they did, the pink hue returned except this time it was in the form of a blush. He had been eyeing you carefully, waiting to make eye contact with you. When you did, he shot you that lopsided smirk you knew so well before he returned to his canvas. It was his way of telling you to stop moving your head so much.

You leaned your head against the back of the couch again and didn’t move until he finally put his brush down. He stood and backed away from his painting to gain some perspective, deciding if he was truly finished or not.

You’d once heard that paintings are truly never finished, it was just a matter of when the artist was willing to stop. Since then, you’d always wondered when Taehyung would deem it acceptable to put the brush down, when he’d feel that he had done everything he could to capture your essence. You knew there had to be something to it, since every time you’d gaze at the finished product it’d take your breath away.

He was always able to capture your inner feelings with eerie accuracy, which was something that endlessly amazed you.

So many afternoons spent in his apartment, you venting about the latest thing that got your blood to boil while he focused on his artwork. And each time, as you’d emptied your brain of all its toxic contents, he’d make magic happen on the paper.

You watched Taehyung shake his head then return to his seat and pick up the brush again. Some days it was harder for him to decide when to stop.

As you laid naked on the upholstery basking in the afternoon sun that was now filtering in through the window, you began to reminisce about the first time you had posed for him. Your face had been the color of a tomato from complaining about a rude bus driver and your hair was a matted mess after waking up late for work that morning. You didn’t understand how you could possibly be anyone’s muse, especially that day.

You had been in no mood to sit around for hours in a strange apartment, but you had given Taehyung your word after he kindly texted you asking for you to be his model earlier that week. You both happened to take a recreational art class downtown together a year ago when he had tapped you on the shoulder two hours into the lesson and extended his phone to you for your number. You had tagged along with a friend that day to see what their art class was like, and you were glad you did when you saw how cute the shy guy across the room was up close. You were flattered, to say the least, especially when he had later texted asking you to be his personal model. After all, the class had been about learning to paint the human anatomy, so the proposition hadn’t come from left field.

But when the day finally came, you just weren’t in the mood. You showed up and took your clothes off in a huff, taking a seat in front of him and attempting the breathing exercises your anger management counselor had taught you.

As the hours went by, you realized you probably weren’t making such a good model, and your annoyance turned into shame as he moved away from his painting. When you were just about done getting redressed, he turned the easel towards you and took your breath away just like that.

He was an amazing artist, but more than that he was exceptionally observant. What you expected to be a painting of you being petulant and looking anywhere but at him, was instead of a girl that looked very unsure of herself. He’d even used a cool toned palette exclusively to convey those feelings perfectly. You could only look at him in awe, feeling more vulnerable than you had been with your clothes off a minute ago.

After that, he texted you to come over on a weekly basis, and each time you came and did much of the same. You’d take your clothes off and pose anywhere in front of where his easel stood ready and waiting. And each time, he’d reveal a part of you on the paper that you never cared to show anyone.

You were ashamed to admit that you were always angry stepping into his apartment, but each time he turned the easel towards you, a different girl stared back at you. Sometimes she was scared, sometimes she was hopeful.

A few sessions later, you felt as though you could trust Taehyung, partly because he seemed to be in tune with parts of you that you hadn’t even known existed deep under the many levels of anger and hatred that bubbled noisily at your surface. He made you want to express yourself, which was something that was tough for you to do, even with your therapist. But it wasn’t like there was anything else to fill the silence with during those quiet hours anyway. So every week you’d come over expose yourself to him in more ways than one.

You couldn’t exactly call it talking, though.

You’d tell him about what happened that day to make you mad, and sometimes what made you feel particularly murderous. Few times, you’d express something that made you happy, because those really came few and far between. And whenever you did, you felt oddly childlike, as if expressing happiness was somehow attributed to being young while expressing grievances was adult-like. Or maybe it was the way Taehyung’s eyes brightened whenever you talked about something positive. It made you want to look for more things to be happy about, and that in itself, was childlike, you supposed.

But it was all one sided. After a long time of posing for him, you began to wonder if that was the deal: you’d express yourself for him while he’d express himself on paper. You figured it wasn’t a terrible trade, but as time went by you found it increasingly frustrating not to have any reciprocation on the same level. His artwork was always a reflection of you, and it left a huge mystery about who Taehyung really was inside.

Of course, you were never one to accept things as they were if you weren’t content with them, so you slowly learned how to better communicate with someone who was mute.

At first it annoyed you that he’d never answer your questions, no matter how simple or complex they were. Occasionally, if you asked him something that warranted an obvious “yes”, he’d look up from the canvas and smile with his eyes before returning to the task at hand. Those small notions were enough to hold you over until the next question arose. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t being heard, or seen, for that matter. His paintings of you proved quite the opposite.

Your painting sessions became like therapy, in a way. You always felt alleviated after posing for him, and over time, you came to depend on them. What started off as you warily stepping into his place with your bag clutched around your shoulder checking for hidden cameras and other red flags turned into you bursting in with two coffees in your hand already starting a story about your bitch of a boss. Taehyung found your workplace gossip hilarious, though you’d never know why. And overtime, his chuckle was also something you felt was like a small yet precious gift to you, another facet of the elusive painter who was still inspired by your body countless artworks later.

Taehyung and his cluttered studio.

They started off as something you didn’t want but definitely needed. You found it quite a drag to commute to his side of town regularly especially when you were in a foul mood most days. You often kicked yourself for agreeing to go.

Yet these days, it was quite the opposite. You had managed to make some serious headway with your anger management over the past few months, partly thanks to Taehyung for giving you a space to safely and comfortably talk through your turbulent thoughts and emotions. But now, you looked forward to paying him visits, not because you needed to vent, but because you wanted to see him. You wanted to find more peculiar things in his apartment, to notice something else about his personality that you hadn’t before, to be in his calming presence. Because just as he had plenty of time to stare at every inch of your body’s anatomy, you did so too. And boy, did you take advantage.

You had already been compiling a mental list of things about Taehyung you had noticed over time, intimate details that somehow set the cosmic scoreboard even for how intimately he was getting to know your naked body.

For example, he had a crinkle between his eyebrows when he focused on painting a particular part of you that was giving him trouble to grasp. When he was really focused, he’d jut his tongue out a bit and swipe his bottom lip. He often liked to run his fingers through his hair when leaning away from his portrait to gain some perspective. He always pursed his lips before smiling, as if showing amusement was somehow forbidden. And when he gave way to a smirk, it almost always bloomed into the widest boxiest smile you’d ever seen. His hair had more highlights in it than you cared to count, and he had a weird aversion to coasters. Dried rings on countertops all over his apartment served as unquestionable proof of.

You felt like you were finally starting to grasp what kind of person he was, though it still felt as if you were outside looking in. You wanted to know him like he knew you, but you weren’t sure it was possible to be let into someone’s heart that you’d never had a proper conversation with. It proved to be a very difficult thing. But when your efforts came to fruition, the recompence you felt was beyond words.

It was during a particularly shitty day, not because anything made you mad, but because the weather was god awful. Nonstop rain mixed in with cold weather and persistent winds made for a troublesome commute. And because of it, it took way longer to get to Taehyung’s place than normal. When he opened the door for you an hour after your agreed meetup time, his eyebrows shot up in surprise but nonetheless let you in. His hair was damp and his TV was on, two things you’d never seen before.

You had dropped your bag, coat and wet shoes at the door, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms as you walked further in. His heater was on, so you immediately went to go sit by it. You hadn’t realized your teeth were chattering until he brought you a steaming cup of coffee with a sympathetic look to boot. You took it from his hands gratefully and fixed your trembling fingers over the smooth ceramic, blowing the steam away before taking a tentative sip. Mmm, dark roast.

Taehyung looked over at his art supplies, his fingers twitching when his eyes landed on his recently cleaned brush, poised and ready on the lip of the easel. But when he looked back at you, he decided it was probably best not to have you take your clothes off right away. So he brought a blanket over to you and draped it over your shoulders before returning to his seat on the couch. He was watching a horror movie, which made you all the more curious about this strange boy that never talks. What kind of person watches horror movies alone?

The coffee, blanket and heater warmed you up rather quickly, and soon you had removed your socks and your sweater before settling in to watch the climax of the spooky film. You wanted to wait for him to suggest he still wanted to paint you, feeling perfectly content to just hang out like this. For the next half hour, you both took turns glancing at each other but missing eye contact as if this was a game of tag. You started smiling to yourself, wondering why today felt so different when you had already been meeting for months now.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation before decidedly moving to sit next to him on the couch. He moved over to give you plenty of room before returning your smile politely, though there was an amused glint in his eyes that you hadn’t missed before he turned to give the television his undivided attention. You wondered if this sudden electricity between you both was all in your head. It’s not like you could ask him directly, or if you wanted to for that matter. It’d be embarrassing if he hadn’t developed a crush on you over these past few months as you had with him.

Yet as you sat on the same couch you had lounged in for months, you couldn’t help but wonder what if?

You swallowed thickly and your pulse quickened as you realized how close his hand was to you. It laid in between you both, flat against the cushion. You never noticed how pretty his hands were before now, taking in the light vans that ran up his arms stemming from his slender fingers, Your own fingers twitched before you slowly inched your hand forward nand placed it over his. Your eyes flitted towards him, regarding him warily. He had been watching the movie with his head leaning on his palm, and when your skin made contact, his eyes moved sideways, first taking in the intimate gesture then looking at you briefly before turning back to the television in what looked to be a bored expression.

Your bravery crumbled and you began moving your hand away, but he caught it in his before you could get away and then laced your fingers together. Your eyebrows shot up and you tried to hold back the huge smile on your face as you finished watching the movie with your hands joined in between you both. Taehyung couldn’t help but look over at you a few more times and grinning at the blush on your face, finding it cute how shy you were when it came to making a move.

When the movie had ended, you both sat quietly, playing with each other’s fingers, you giggling girlishly and him enjoying the sight of you being so flustered. Eventually the flashing of his phone screen from across the room caught his attention and he dropped your hand, much to your disappointment. You figured that was as much as you were going to get out of him today, so you began stripping as he busied himself typing away. When he returned to you, he was surprised to see you naked and posed, ready to be his muse again. You furrowed your brow and gestured toward the easel to which he shook his head slowly. Ah, I guess he doesn’t want to paint any more today.

“Sorry, I figured we were still doing that. Should I just go and come back next week?” Taehyung thought for a moment then shook his head again, coming to sit by you once more. “Then… what? You want to sit here and hold hands all day?” Taehyung quirked his brow at you, his lips pursing as he held back a smile. “You’re so frustrating sometimes you know.” This time he smiled and scratched the top of his head while looking at the floor, not offering any semblance of what his plans were.

It’d been a while before something miniscule got you worked up and angry like it used to, so you were surprised when the way his eyes seemed to roll away from you caused a switch inside of you to click. You were growing angrier by the second and you couldn’t seem to stop it.

You huffed as you yanked your top from the floor and pulled it on over your head. You reached for your underwear and kicked your legs through the holes as Taehyung sat and watched you with patient eyes.

“I mean, you could text me or something and let me know not to come over next time. I don’t live close by you know.” You huffed as you stood up to get your sweater that still laid serenely by the radiator. You weren’t looking forward to braving the wet and cold just after you had dried and warmed up.

But before you could march over to it, Taehyung firmly took hold of your wrist, causing you to spin on your heel.

“I’m sorry, don’t go.”

You ogled at him, looking at his lips for a while to see if they’d move again. You couldn’t believe he just talked aloud. When they didn’t, you looked up at his eyes in confusion. His expression was urgent, his pupils deep pools of sincerity that you could swim in forever. He was genuinely apologizing, though you felt there was no need. You already knew you were throwing a fit needlessly.

“…I…”

Taehyung slowly smiled, realizing it was your turn to be speechless. He tugged at your wrist, guiding you to sit on his lap. Your heart raced at the newfound proximity. You were now close enough to smell his bodywash which was enough to make your head swim if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung just spoke in the most rich and velvety voice you’d ever heard.

“I thought…you were mute.”

“Selective.” Taehyung held your gaze for a minute as his fingers brushed against the soft skin under your wrist, feeling your pulse thump furiously. You looked into his eyes with uneven breath as the realization hit. He was finally letting you in.

Suddenly you were leaning in, craving to experience the full extent of his emotions. And so he met you halfway, molding his soft lips around yours in a deep kiss that made your heart stop altogether.

His large hands took hold of your sides and held you tightly against him as he leaned in to savor your taste. His tongue swiped curiously against your lip so you parted your mouth, allowing him full access to it. You leaned back the more he leaned in, and eventually you were both laying down on the couch with him positioned on top of you, making out intensely. When he broke away panting, his lips were swollen and his eyes full of lusty haze. You didn’t get a chance to take his demeanor in fully, because his lips were back on you again except kissing at the skin of your neck instead, leaving marks along their journey to your collar bone. Each bruise was a paragraph of text written on your paper skin, each lick a compliment he longed to give you since the first time you took your clothes off for him.

It seemed as though for all that he lacked verbally, he more than compensated with touch and emotion.

His hands sneaked underneath your shirt and pulled it off of you before he gazed at your chest. You blushed, because although he’d seen your breasts countless times before, he’d never looked at them the way he was now. You felt like a clay statue he was breathing life into as his lips latched onto your buds, causing your back to lift off of the cushions. He was as good with his mouth as he was with his brush strokes.

You made quick work of his shirt, feeling all too eager to feel his burning skin on yours. His touch was setting you ablaze, and you found the dull ache in between your legs increasingly harder to ignore. You carded your fingers through his hair as he took his pants off impatiently. You’d have taken the opportunity to take your own underwear off, but something told you you’d enjoy it a lot more if he did it for you.

Taehyung leaned back on his heels, his eyes shooting downwards as you opened your legs tentatively. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly peeled them off of you as if he was opening a present. He licked his lips as he spread your legs wide before him, taking in your glistening sex from his vantage point. Suddenly he bit his lip and stood up, disappearing behind the couch momentarily. He returned with a condom and tore into the packet as you both looked at each other eagerly.

Finally, he sat in between your legs again, brushing his thumb against your reddened clit as he licked his lips. You didn’t want to wait for him anymore, so you sat up and took hold of his lips with yours again, guiding him down onto you and wrapping your legs around his waist. When he plunged inside of you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He rocked his hips slowly at first and continued peppering your body with kisses and bites. Your nails dug into his back while he balanced himself on his elbows, his hands pushing away the hair from your face. When he kissed your lips again, your tongues swirled wildly, causing him to lose control and pick up the pace. You hissed and moaned, your hips coming up to meet him stroke for stroke.

And as his movements got increasingly rougher and more urgent, you lost yourself in them over and over again because now it was his turn to express himself.

Your sweaty bodies writhed against each other all afternoon, each moan of yours an appreciation of his affection towards you and each grown of his conveying a wordless confession.

Making love to Taehyung was like him having a conversation with your body. He knew all the right places to touch and when. He’d get so wrapped up and passionate during your afternoons spent together that he’d hardly seem like the same quiet man sitting across from you staring at a canvas for hours. He was rough yet gentle, persistent yet patient, truly in keeping with the enigma that he had always been to you.

And now, as you sat on the very same couch you both had made love on the first time and many times afterward, you found yourself eyeing him mischievously. It had been 20 minutes after he decided his painting wasn’t quite finished yet, and you were getting antsy.

He’d caught your look, and though a reaction didn’t register on his face, the growing bulge sitting pretty in between his legs was enough for you.

Your nipples were quickly hardening in the frigid air entering through the open window, though the reason for that wasn’t entirely attributed to the col temperature. Normally you were patient enough to wait until he was done, but today was stressful and you wanted so badly for him to help you relieve some of that stress.

So you didn’t bother holding back your joy when he finally stood up from his spot in the corner and sauntered over to you, giving you a disapproving look. You looked back at him apologetically, though you weren’t sure it translated well as you bit your lip lustfully at his approaching figure. He sighed, flicking one of your hardened nipples roughly. You let out a shaky breath to which he snickered as he pulled his shirt off over his head. This time it was his turn to bite his lips as you purposely spread your legs, giving him a full view of what he was capable of doing to you without so much as touching you.

He growled as he crawled onto the couch, groping your curves and dips as he contemplated how to punish you for being a fidgety model. You awaited eagerly with a shallow breath then squealed as he abruptly scooped you into his arms and off the couch. He brought you over to the windowsill and sat you down before kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs again. Your breath hitched in your throat at the first stroke of his tongue on your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the windowsill as you scooted closer to the edge to give him better access to you. You made a mental note to interrupt his painting sessions more often.

“A-ah….Taehyung…” You moaned softly as he sucked lightly on your clit. His eyes watched you carefully as his tongue navigated your slick folds expertly. When you threw your head back as his tongue got closer to your entrance, he pushed the wet muscle inside and fucked you with his face, causing you to buck your hips onto him. Your head snapped back down, and your fingers latched onto his hair, guiding him in and out of you as you fucked his face. You were so close to cumming, but you needed a bit more. That’s when Taehyung replaced his tongue with two fingers, plunging them inside you and curling them upwards as he milked the orgasm from you. You hunched over, holding onto his head tightly as you came all over his mouth and fingers.

“Fuck…that was…” You panted and let go of him, allowing him to stand back up as he wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb. He smiled at you brightly, all semblance of disapproval gone from his angelic features. You brough him towards you and kissed him passionately, only then feeling the cold wind licking at your backside. You shivered, so he took your hand and led you off the windowsill.

He embraced you as you wrapped your arms around his midsection, holding you in silence for a few moments. Eventually, he tipped your chin up to stare into your eyes and gauge the rest of your sentence from what your eyes could give away. You looked back at him and smiled, feeling brave enough to ask him something that didn’t have a simple yes or no answer for once.

“What are you thinking?”

Taehyung looked down for a moment then took your hand in his. He brought you over to his easel and placed you in front of today’s painting, looking at your reaction carefully. You had expected to see yourself staring at the center of the page looking horny as ever.

But as you gazed at the painting, you saw a girl who was very much in love.

Your chest tightened and your eyes glistened. Turning towards Taehyung, you looked up at his wary eyes. He held his breath as his thumb stroked your knuckles, conveying more than you had ever expected him to be able to. And for once, you were glad there were no words.

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pixelatedrose · 4 years

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Sleepy Bois Wing!Au Masterpost

The master post for the Sleepy Bois in my Wing!Au! Under the cut will be links to their art as well as long descriptors of their relationship to one another, the way they feel about their own/others wings, and how they interact with each other on a daily basis!

Full Masterpost

Tubbo: Tubbo loves his wings, and quite enjoys how they feel and look, he loves having bug wings! But seeing Tommy so unhappy with having Moth wings makes him feel almost guilty for loving his own so much. He's not ashamed of his wings, and never has been, but he sees how angry Tommy is at the world for giving him such flimsy wings and often begins to feel upset. Tubbo can very often be found wrapped up in Phil or Techno's wings or with his head on Wilbur's shoulder when he feels this way as he vents out his frustrations to them, the old men always telling him the same things: you shouldn’t worry yourself with Tommy too much. I know you’re worried about him, but feeling bad about something you can’t change won’t help anyone- least of all Tommy. And he tries to take it to heart. And while he may not know the reasons behind it, he can always tell when his friends are upset, and he takes it upon himself to try and make them smile. They always do. But the worst part about it is that Tubbo knows when those smiles are fake only for his sake.

Tommy: Before Tommy's wings grew in, he had always imagined he'd have strong wings. Something big or at least a little bulky- it would match his personality after all. So when he found that he was not going to have bird wings or bat wings- but bug wings- needless to say he was upset. Tommy was already a little late to get his wings when he did, and Tubbo had tried to console him. Easy for Tubbo to say- he had gotten the most perfect wings in the world for him. And Tommy was getting moth wings. They looked and felt like a thick piece of paper- but paper is paper, and paper is NOT strong. To make matters worse, whenever he meets someone new they always call his wings butterfly wings. And that, made him furious. He wasn't happy with what he got but he'd be damned if he let anyone think they were anything but moth wings. They may shit wings, but they were his shit wings. More than a few times Tommy would find himself upset about his wings for one reason or another- too delicate to do something, not strong enough for another, they didn't look right- and would somehow find himself in the comfort of one of his friend's wings or arms. He never spoke about it and neither did they, but he appreciated those moments.

Wilbur: Wilbur is proud of his wings and he likes to show it. He isn’t as blatantly obvious as some people, but he takes pride in his wings. He isn’t good with aerial tricks like Phil or Techno, but instead is very expressive with his wings, flapping them about when he gets excited and such. Some people are jealous of the fact that he's able to do such things, seeing as how short his wings actually are, but Wilbur just sees this as a bonus. The only times he's not smug about his luckiness is around Phil (who scolds him for being narcissistic) and Tommy, for obvious reasons. He knows Tommy is especially jealous of his wings, and if given the chance, probably would trade with the boy. He may love his wings, but he loves Tommy more and knows how important it is for the boy- much more important than nearly anyone else Wil had met- and so the decision is obvious for him. He also ends up trying to help Techno when he feels overwhelmed- the shorter man stress cleaning his wings till feathers come out- but that's an even touchier subject. So he'll clean up his friend's room or make him his favorite meal, anything he can to show Techno that he's got people who love him.

Techno: Techno is a little more indifferent about his wings than most people, especially considering the the wings he has. Most people who first meet Techno will ask him about his wings or compliment them endlessly, seeing as having large, white bird wings are considered one of the most beautiful kinds of wings to have- something to do with angels and such- not that Techno cares at all, he just cares that they're useful. And they are. But they're also not, sometimes. He consistently trips over them or they end up knocking things (or children) over by mistake. Their white color also means when they get dirty it's VERY noticeable, and while Techno wouldn't usually care, he once showed up to a formal event with blood in his feathers, and was so mortified he that fell into the habit of stress cleaning his wings- now to the point of feathers falling out. Wilbur and Phil have tried to help, but its been a slow-going process. It was years and years ago that the event happened, so long ago that Techno hardly remembers the it, and now it's just a stress habit, so whenever he gets overwhelmed he ends up leaving to go clean his wings. The floor of his room is littered in pretty white feathers and he hates it, but doesn't have the heart to clean it up. But sometimes he'll come home and find that all the feathers are gone, and maybe he'll notice Wil or Phil give him a kind glance or sweet smile. He appreciates it, even if he doesn't say so. He's well aware of how Tommy feels about his wings, and while he may not be the best or first person you'd go to for comfort, sometimes he'll sit down next to the kid and wrap his wing around him, not sure if it was the right thing to do until Tommy sighs and rests his head on his shoulder. They never speak about these things. And maybe they never will...

Phil: Phil finds that his wings serve him perfectly. They're a wonderful length and strong, they do what they need to do and have yet to fail Phil. The real conflict begins when it comes to his friends. He knows how each of them feel or act. Wilbur wants to help others as much as he can, but doesn't know how and ends up stressing needlessly over things he has no control over. Techno is a perfectionist with less than savory habits that only end up harming himself. Tommy has fallen hard into a growing hole of self-hatred and is quickly becoming blind to what he has. And Tubbo is well aware of the fact that people fake when he tries to cheer everyone up on a bad day. And so Phil spends the bad days helping his friends in whatever way is best for them- cleaning Techno's room for him- Singing a song with Wil to help him relax- Sitting and chatting quietly with Tommy- Helping Tubbo with chores and giving genuine smiles. He cares for his friends and wouldn't trade them for anything the world had to offer him. Sure he overworks himself sometimes, but what does it matter if everyone ends up better of it?

#mcyt #tubbo #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #ph1lza #sleepy bois inc #sbi #Wing!Au #Wing!Au Masterpost #my art #my writing #please ask me questions about my au it's the only thing keeping me going

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dooodle-bug · 3 years

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An Overly Long and Complicated Analysis of Colored Pencils.

Months ago, My sister and I discussed the Colored Pencils boss from Paper Mario the Origami King, describing and analyzing their dialogue to piece together what I would call an interpretation. Of course, this conversation was verbal so nothing was written down. BUT TODAY, I plan on showing you every line of dialogue and analyzing every bit of it! Enjoy! (Please keep in mind that all of this is my interpretation and opinions)

Aight, do I even NEED and explanation? I’m sure by now you all know about Jean-Pierre Colored Pencils the 12th, the first stationery boss and yadda yadda yadda. But has anyone ever thought of analyzing their dialogue?. Regardless, Imma do it anyways! So, first, let’s start off with the foreshadowing and actions previous to their introduction (oh yeah and also 99% of Overlook Tower because it mostly revolves around him)!

Upon first entering Overlook Tower, you’re greeted with these two drawings. They, of course, are meant to foreshadow the boss atop the tower as well as show that the tower’s been attacked and crap. Obviously, this is an act of vandalism in its purest form. But, this is just food for thought, what if they did this as a form of “exposure” and/or venting? I mean, if you look, the drawings are covering other photos/artworks on the wall (and the drawings themselves are preposterously large, but that may be because of the size of those pencils). Could this be a way of Colored Pencils trying to say “Hey my art is better than yours so Imma disrespect it!” ? A little far-fetched, but we’ll get there.

Then there’s this. Ok whatever. It’s just a drawing of Olly. Personally, I see this as a form of worship to Olly from Colored Pencils, probably to please the king with his image as well as to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who dares look at him. Also Colored Pencils is probably just a suck to Olly.

This little toad right here is referring to Jean’s drawings, implying they gonna mop the walls and remove the art. Honestly, if I were them, I’d be PRETTY frustrated if someone wanted to clean up and erase MY art. Like, bruh, I worked hard on that and now you wanna clean it up??

The toad mentions this too. Other than being a fabulous form of foreshadowing, I personally see this as evidence for the idea that “The Legion are seen as horrible monsters by the paper folk.” Also note how Jean deadass traumatized a toad, probably with launching the takeover of the tower as well as their intimidating size/appearance.

Then, as Mario and Olivia are about to make it to the top, Jean’s missiles smash into the elevator. This implies that Colored Pencils somehow KNEW someone was in the elevator on their way to the top (evidently showing their role as a streamer guardian). Only one pencils needed to be shot in order to stop the elevator from ascending. But instead, that guy shoots over 3 missiles, further showing how they REALLY don’t want you to progress. It also shows that they want you DEAD (to me it seems that they wanted to impale you with the pencils), like that guy is BLOODTHIRSTY (or maybe it’s just a matter of him just trying his best to do his job).

After escaping the near death trap of an elevator *le gasp!* They’re ambushed by folded soldiers! I actually DO have a headcannon about the Legion and their ability to command the folded soldiers, but I’ll work on that some other time. All you need to know is that I think he’s a Not Bad general and has a pretty ok grasp on commanding his troops.

Then BAM! If you try to escape, Colored Pencils is somehow aware of this and locks the door by smashing some pencils into the ground! (Coincidentally making a ”X” shape, probably to show you cannot escape.) This, like the elevator, to me, shows that they REALLY don’t want you to reach the streamer OR survive.

Idk what to say about this it’s just an infestation.

All these images are more examples of Colored Pencils’ vandalism throughout Overlook Tower, similarly to the ones on the first floor. To me, not only are these showing Colored Pencils’ dominance over the tower and foreshadowing his reveal, but also sorta as a form of exposure. Sorta running around the tower going “Look at me. Look at my drawings. Look at what I did to your tower. Look how powerful I am and look at how glorious my art is. >:0” What I’m saying is he’s trying to prove to the world how he should be recognized. Alright, fine. That’s probably a BIG stretch from just a bunch of drawings, but I assure you: well get there when we get there. But then there are some more drawings.

Aside from the first image, I explained all of these pictures and their meanings in more depth this post. But the gist of it is that they are all supposed to be pretty disturbing threats and forms of mockery to Mario and the toads (especially the toads). This, to me, is showing Colored Pencils being sorta unhinged and spiteful of the paper folk. They wanna strike fear into the hearts of anyone who dares challenge them. They wanna insult you and make you feel inferior and worthless compared to them.

Now comes the part where they’r on the deck of the tower. Suddenly, Colored Pencils begins to bombard you with pencil missiles! Now, this is probably also foreshadowing as well as a way to show that Colored Pencils is trying to keep you away from the streamer at all costs. But a little thing I’ve noticed is how these pencils move. First they start out minimal, just trying to target you. Then, they go wild, not even TRYING to aim for you, they just start blasting aimlessly. To me, this show how Colored Pencils is 1. Lowkey bad with aiming for the target as well as having patience and 2. Getting desperate to the point of just aimlessly firing at will in hopes you’ll get hit. Now all that’s cleared up, it’s time for his introduction (finally)!

Right before he’s introduced to us, he says this. For starters, the term “Aw, man”, if you don’t know, is a VERY casual expression/phrase to express annoyance or disappointment (basically saying bruh). This line shows that Colored Pencils speaks in a casual manner reminiscent of a young adult/teenager (it is also shown that the word “man” is basically a catchphrase or common form of addressing). To me, he certainly doesn’t sound like a viscous monster or twisted commander.

Now that that’s done with, there’s the next part of his line. First of all, this is sorta a pun as Colored Pencils is, well, an artist. I don’t think to explain a freaking pun. But if you don’t know, to be “out of the picture” means to be no longer being involved or playing a part of whatever. But then, the “...for good” part implies they wanted Mario not being involved in anything EVER (they want him dead). This is, like their actions and drawings, a threat to Mario. Possibly to lower his morale and keep him from wanted to destroy the streamer.

Suddenly, this mf makes a flashy entrance doing what I presume to be pirouette (side note; this implies that guy was on their side hiding behind the pole for who knows how long before their entrance). This is supposed to be their Grand Entrance, showing how Cool and Amazing they are, almost crushing Olivia in the process of showing off their Art-senal >:o(.

Ok so this guy up and INSULTS you to your face, calling you a Philistine, meaning an uncultured person, which further shows his hipster-ness of him supposedly being the cultured one compared to everyone else (also the repetition of the word “man”, showing his casual, young adult-ness). But look closer at what he says. Saying “I’m sick and tired” sounds kinda like he’s venting his frustrations because obviously, this must have been persisting long enough for him to feel this way. Interestingly, he doesn’t directly say “you’re a Philistine”, he says “Philistines LIKE you” (subtly, yet obviously insulting you), showing his grudge against who knows how many people who are supposedly “erasing” his hard work, despite the fact that we’ve seen nobody even touch his work! Except of course, that toad earlier who mentioned needing to clean it up, but that was only because they reminded them of CP. Could it be that “erasing” means trying to avoid or destroy his work because people were afraid of him, leading him to grow frustrated and believe they are uncultured? I sure think so. What this line means is “I’m frustrated and hate you just as much as everyone else because nobody recognizes my artwork.” Now, I think you have an idea of their character.

Now right off the bat they have low expectations for you, automatically assuming you haven’t heard of them and not even letting you answer their question (note how they immediately go “Figures”, almost like saying “oh I thought so” or “oh I know so”.). Clearly, this guy is pessimistic and holds low expectations for the world (yet still seems irritated when said expectations are met). This is also another insult, basically expecting you to not know of them as if it’s YOUR fault. Another insult is shot when they as, almost sarcastically and accusingly, “when was the last you went to a gallery?” This relates again to the fact that they see themself as this Cultured Artist that is above you.

Again, Colored Pencils basically answers the question for you in a pessimistic, sarcastic way, straight up saying “don’t answer” as if he KNOW what your response is going to be and knowing he’ll be disappointed by it. Clearly, this guy is very bitter about everyone. Then he hits you with the “I’m gonna give you an art lesson for free”, being a play on the fact he’s an art supply/artist, a threat as he’s gonna scribble all over you, and what could be a sarcastic remark or subtle insult that you are apparently uncultured and in need of an “art lesson”. And a free one no less because you are apparently desperate for one.This also shows his feeling of superiority and spitefulness of everyone.

In an old post (here) I explained how the name “Jean-Pierre”, while to English viewers, is this fancy and unique name, however to French viewers, this is a common and average name. Obviously, Colored Pencils is trying to be Cool and Original with this long and foreign name, again showing a hipster trait as well as possibly trying to prove to the world how amazing and special he is with this name that in reality is the opposite. He seems to be almost bragging about it as nobody even ASKED for his name. Then he mentions that he represents the Legion of Stationery in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone (note the “I’ll have you know” sounding like an explanation), as if we were stupid enough to not know what that was, also showing how he’s trying to make you feel inferior and foolish to him. Perhaps because he is frustrated and bitter about feeling like the world just tries to “erase” him and his work?

Not much to say here, aside from the threat of scribbling on Mario’s face as well as subtly insulting him again by referring to his face as flat (while it IS, it seems to be worded like an insult). They also show their loyalty to Olly, supposedly prepared to do whatever it takes to stop them.

Aight so this has nothing to do with CP’s character, but I think it’s rather interesting that Olivia seems to speak to them as if she is sorta standing up to a bully, trying to verbally attack them in the same way they did, as if trying to one-up them. I think this is just Olivia trying to defend her and Mario and make CP have a taste of their own medicine by talking in this casual, subtly rude and aggressive manner. Then, the battle commences. I’m not gonna explain the moves because I don’t even know what to explain about it- they just attack you trying to defend the streamer, so from here on, it’s just gonna be mostly dialogue.

Colored Pencils seemed to hold pride and joy towards their art-senal (haha arsenal pun), proudly saying “feast your eyes” as if it’s some glorious piece of their’s. This again shows how prideful Colored Pencils is, going so far as to further describe and glorify their 12 pencils as well as sorta insult you by saying your weak af (yeah I know their bodies are actually paper, but this to me sounds sorta like they’re calling you out on your “weakness” of being flat and paper) and automatically believing you’re gonna be their canvas (implying they’ll defeat you and further disrespect your body via using it to draw all over). This gives me the idea that guy is masking their insecurity and venting their bitterness of the world via extreme pride in their work/possessions and lowering other’s morale/insulting them.

Again, he’s confident in himself about his fighting tactics, exclaiming the targets are locked on with nothing you can do about it. But previously, he seemed bitter and spiteful towards you. Could this be false pride? Still deep down hating the world for kicking him to the curb and trying to believe to be too good for anyone to recognize or respect? Thinking the world is against him and leading to subtle self-loathing yet still boastful and “I’m too good for you”? Just a way to hype himself up and make himself feel superior and powerful in a world that supposedly made him feel the opposite and in turn grow bitter and angry? Yes.

You probably got this message when you easily dodged all of the targets, right? Suddenly, Colored Pencils’ pride fades away as they return to being bitter. They are (as pride usually goes) absolutely in disbelief that their tactic, which they though was Perfect, fails them (notice the emphasis on “all” and the “?!”). Whilst in this state of disbelief, they mention how their missiles are SUPPOSED to be “flawless”. Quickly, instead of faulting themself for their mistake, they pin the blame on YOU (the target), calling you “all wrong”, as if it’s YOUR fault they did a bad job positioning their missiles and like it’s your fault you just wanted to not get hurt. This further shows their disdain and blame on the world for their problems.

But if you actually DO get hit by one, he says this. His pride as been fueled as his expectations of success are met. Going “I knew it would be” to further show this pride, acting like he knows everything and is this perfect, flawless being.

If you try using the 1000 fold arms on the front, they say this (right after tryna bite you). Showing them again making an art-related pun. (Unrelated but I feel like this guy keeps making verbal noises to express themself.) This also expresses their snobbish, pretentious side again, seeing themself as Too Good for you and wanting to keep your paws off them (this also may or may not show their more independent and would rather work alone, but that may be just them saying that in retaliation).

Attacking for the first time, he says this. This is, again, showing the artistic puns and his pride. He wants you to witness his amazing success and power, expecting you to faulter at such glorious-ness that is his missiles. He clearly thinks himself as superior in power and ability (the emphasis on “full” and “all at once” making it seem like he’s whipping out some op attack), like 6 missiles is gonna do anything to you.

Seemingly proud of their attack, they further rub it in your face by going “I have plenty more where these came from!” which shows their triumph as well as basically going “Haha I’m so powerful with these missiles I’m gonna keep beating you up”. It appears to me they are pretty reliant on their missiles.

But if you close his lid, his demeanor shifts from pride to panic. He suddenly realizes that his perfect tactic had a flaw and is going to backfire on him. He, of course, doesn’t admit defeat or mention this flaw again, simply pretending this mistake never happened. The only flaw of his mentioned is that he cannot stop the missiles, but this could just be him unintentionally revealing his weakness in a moment of disorientation.

After hitting em in the “mouth” they hit you with the biting move. The pride returns, this time with another art-related pun. They seem to speak in a boastfully sarcastic manner, all like “haha I knew it sucked for you didn’t it??” It seems that with every success, their pride seems to inflate while with every failure, it diminishes and leaves only bitterness and blame.

This thought can further be shown here, when you close Colored Pencils’ case, but there were no missiles inside to be launched. He mocks and laughs at you for your foolishness when previously, he was panicking because you did the same lid-shutting tactic reused here. This also shows his (maybe even hypocritical) overconfidence and pride.

ALSO when you stand far away to attack after closing the lid, they try to bite you and then say this. Again this shows their sudden frustration that their plan didn’t go accordingly, in angry disbelief you didn’t “cooperate” by doing what they wanted and fueling their pride. Also, what do you mean “how did you get so far away?” Are you just trying to hold yourself not accountable for your own mistakes? Are you holding onto your pride to the point of looking like an idiot? I think so.

Now it’s time for the fun part. They hit use with the cutscene of saying this. These are, of course, more art puns and references. But more importantly, he again shows us his bitterness and hatred of the world, calling everyone a critic, despite nobody even criticizing it in the first place, and exclaiming how his work will not be disrespected, even though nobody showed disrespect towards it in the first place. The only thing we did was try to not get hurt and try to defeat him because we wanted to destroy the streamer, which he was preventing us from doing. We had no personal grudge against him or his work nor did we disrespect it, art or missile related. If anything, we are afraid or in awe of it, which to me, does NOT sound like disrespect. Obviously, that guy just assumed we did, possibly because he has low expectations and hatred of the world, seeing everyone as awful and hating his work despite not knowing what they actually think. He also calls it his “masterpiece”, even though I think he referred to other stuff as such as well, further showing his pridefulness and how he thinks he’s all that and thensome.

Saying “Behold” further concretes my idea of them thinking everything they do is glorious. They think this truly is something amazing and worthy of appreciation by all. They are triumphant when claiming this, supposedly knowing they’re right and want you to agree as well.

Upon trying to close his lid during Rainbow Roll, he says this. He appears to be confident that you cannot close the lid when prior, he was panicking about it. Actually, just in general, when in Rainbow Roll form, he seems over confident and in belief that This is The Move that will defeat you. Why? Because he thinks he’s perfect and always right. And if he wasn’t right before, then he’s destined to be right this time. This also seems to be a bit of mockery, like a “haha you’re stupid for thinking you can close my lid”, similar to all the other times he’s insulted you.

BUT if you hit them with the 1000 fold arms, but do not finish them off, they say this. (haha another art reference.) Their confidence has been demolished and they are now angry and spiteful that they have been proven wrong again and is now on the brink of being defeated. Also note how they refer to them missiles as “precious” further showing their pride in their possessions, but also possibly showing how reliant they are on them. They also insult and blame you again, this time for supposedly “making” them waste their missiles and supposedly not understanding how expensive good art supplies are (don’t worry Colored Pencils I feel your pain). Also, how tf do they know that if they don’t need to pay for art supplies in the first place? Probably because they want to emphasis how terrible you are for destroying their missiles and trying to both guilt you and express how angry they are. They say this almost as if scolding or yelling at you for their own downfall and, while it WAS partially your fault, it was mostly theirs for choosing and going through with such a terrible strategy.

His plan of missiles has failed and now resorts to this. He seems to be trying his best to keep up his prideful demeanor, yet still sounds angry and bitter as he resorts to pitifully dragging his body over and lightly thwacking you. He also seems to think that “this” is gonna do some damage (to which it does, if you don’t block).

Now... onto the final lines. Colored Pencils is painfully dumbfounded that such a thing could happen to them, a supposedly perfect being. They can’t believe that they, a flawless underdog, could be defeated by someone who they deem as nameless, talentless, and disgusting (another bitter spit to the face). Their true colors are shown once again as someone who hates the world for being stepped on and unpopular. For being unrecognized (unlike that pop culture) and not exceeding their expectation of being great and amazing to themself, in turn becoming bitter and spiteful (also a hipster).

His final words. They are a final insult to Mario (aside from being a reference), showing just how angry and bitter he was at the world for being underappreciated. He says he was better back in the retro days, adding a “man” as both his catchphrase and to show his hipster-ness. Of all the things he could’ve said, it was an insult. This shows how deeply angry he was, wanting to make others feel inferior, pinning the blame on anyone other than themself. And that, to me, is a sorry way to go. (Unrelated but I feel like with the “man”, he just trails off, going something like “mannnn...”.)

Then their trophy description says this. This further concretes my idea of Colored Pencils thinking they’re all that and thensome when in reality, this is not the truth.

The final mention of Colored Pencils comes from Olivia, where she mentions how when stationery die, all their marks on the world disappear as well as seeming to separate the art from the artist. This moment is a little sad when you think about how when artists die, they can be remembered by their art. But in Colored Pencils’ case, he simply disappears without a trace (wow this can relate to my theory/headcannon of how they’re born from magic and that magic fades away when they die), meaning he was forgotten. The exact opposite of what he wanted.

At last, here is my final take on Colored Pencils:

He’s an overconfident, prideful person who thinks he’s perfect and flawless, there’s no denying that. He has expectations that others should think of him highly as well. But the world has kicked him to the curb, whether it be in his head or in actuality (probably a mix of both), pushing him aside and crushing his confidence (the reason most likely being because the world sees him as a monster). This led to him becoming bitter and hateful of the world, thinking that everyone is awful and wants to ruin his image. He wants to prove himself as the perfect being he thinks he is and copes with this bitterness by pinning blames, insulting, and making others feel inferior to him (as well as forcing others to gaze at his art). He grew to be a hipster, further trying to prove how he is so special and unique compared to everyone else. He’s just a proud person who’s been kicked under the rug, growing bitter and desiring to make themself feel greater than the world, as if worthy of deserving recognition and appreciation.

If anything, I feel like they need to accept that they are NOT perfect nor ever will be, they are just as flawed and human as everyone else. They need to understand how to cope with their frustrations and bitterness better by not pinning it on others. They need to learn to not judge the world so harshly. Some people will not like you, some people will not recognize or appreciate you. But that does not mean everyone is like that. Not everyone will fill your expectations, but please, don’t hate the world for it. You’ll never change or be happy hating and blaming the world for your problems. Great now I love them even more. But what I’m saying is they CAN change for the better.

And that, my friends, is my personal take on Colored Pencils, thank you for reading!

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virgil-writes · 3 years

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ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 11 - fever dream

trigger warning, body horror and blood, lots of blood. around 3.8K words.

He knew he had overstayed his welcome by the tiredness in her eyes, a stab of guilt very close to piercing through his skin though he resisted. He had struck a nerve without meaning to, his flirting and prodding taken too far, what he intended to bring them closer making her recoil instead. Heisenberg had left her cabin with shoulders slumped and heart heavy, but the way she had bid him goodbye told him everything would be just fine. It was all forgotten by the time he turned the corner to go further into the forest, all suppressed under a boot-clad stomp. He would not consider how he might have personally hurt her, how he might have dug in too deep and crossed the few lines she had established. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a stupid little voice told him that he cared, even if he didn’t mean to, and there was only so much he could ignore it before it bubbled to the surface. He had dealt with worse. Keeping feelings and memories buried was a skill he had developed over almost a hundred years.

Her feelings were not important right now, he reminded himself, because the plan took all precedence. There would be no more village if Miranda saw her plans fulfilled, no little witch to offend and no metal man to call stupid nicknames. Maybe once they were free he would be interested in truly making friends, sitting down to talk things through and giving her time to answer his questions, not when he pressed but when she was ready. Bah, who was he kidding? He was not a man meant to play house, to have healthy relationships that were based on dialogue and mutual understanding with. He was the worst friend a person could have. She could die mad.

Still, perhaps there were lines he would better not cross, at least to keep her complacent. From the very beginning he had intended to keep her in the dark as much as possible, only tell her what was strictly necessary to have her help him. Learn what she could truly do, exploit it as covertly as possible, then unceremoniously dump her so he could finally fight his battles. Get from point A to point B, make himself an ally, but not a friend. She was a tool, as were all others, living or dead. He would see his ambition realized. He would set himself free.

Hours bled into days and into a week before he saw her again. His days once again become a blur of planning and building, head empty if not for the thoughts of revenge and the rage that fueled him ever onward. Research at the factory was going smoothly enough, problems here and there. Miranda was mostly out of his hair, as was Alcina, having finally given up after he told her, time and again, that nothing other than lycans inhabited the woods. Some power failures in Eins were a true head-scratcher, night after night of writing and drawing, assembling and disassembling. It was a good way to pass the time. Sturm was still a failure, a project put on the back burner until the right inspiration hit him.

It all reached a boiling point not soon after, stress catching up to him when a mining drill down the mine shafts malfunctioned and exploded, the cave-in cutting off a whole team of haulers and all the resources they had gathered. The bodies soon began to rot and the stench filled the vents, crept through tunnels to find him in all rooms he thought he could hide in. Night and day his soldiers would drill and get nowhere, night and day he would work to see no returns. He had descended into a fit of rage that brought out the worst within him, his transformation no longer his to control after the first few minutes of thrashing and shouting. It hurt as much this time as it did every other, flesh tearing and pulsing and twisting and expanding, tendons pulled, muscles sore, skin stretching far beyond what it should ever be able to. Pain seared through every inch of him, a gust of flame where his blood should be. It burned unbearably hot while chilling him to the bone with the sheer horror of it.

His conscience would never fully slip him in those moments. He would not recognize himself in the mirror, his appearance no longer that of a man, but he was still him, still a genius of engineering, still a silver fox that could charm the pants off of anyone if he wanted to. At least that was what he told himself, though there was definitely and underlying hunger that he could not suppress, that was not entirely his. Not for meat like the Duke’s, not for blood like Alcina’s. Not at all physical, but gnawing on his bones nonetheless. A need for violence, for terror, to destroy everything and crush everyone. Turn every living being to a pulp and make art with the carnage, paint the walls red and hang their insides from the ceiling. His fingers itched for it even when they no longer existed, his heart pulsating with rage and anticipation. It was hard to keep himself in check sometimes, to stop the spiral that brought him ever downward, towards the blackened waters of oblivion that he felt were always so dangerously close to consuming him. He would be no better than any of them if he gave in, he repeated it as a mantra, no better than the family of abominations who consumed flesh and drank blood like the finest wine, no better than the lycans who toyed with the villagers only to eviscerate them and then suck the marrow out of their bones. But how would it feel, a small voice asked in the back of his mind, to be so free, to let his rage flow with the blood he spilled, vindication for thousands of days of suffering. He could almost taste it, feel his sins washed away by the sacrifice, dangerously within reach, so very tempting. Every time he resisted, and every time it became harder to do so.

He can’t remember the last time he’d lost control, the last time he’d blacked out and woken up a day later in his birthday suit and covered in guts that weren’t his. He can’t remember if it had been yesterday or last year or thirty years ago, but he remembers the feeling all too well, the sickening soft touch of tissue, foul smelling bits of flesh underneath his nails. He could never know who, or why, or how, and could only hope he hadn’t blown his cover, hadn’t killed someone Mother would miss. The last time, he never quite managed to wash the contents of the poor soul’s stomach from his hair, the stench nauseating. It had been the first time he had taken scissors to his hair and cut it with a fury and desperation he did not know he possessed. Ther uneven strands only served to remind him that his monstrous self was but a failed project away, looming in the darkness, a return to the bloody roots Miranda had ingrained within him on that operating table all those years ago.

Fists slam against the table in an attempt to let off some steam as he curses his temper, his family, that crow bitch for ruining him forever. But it only serves to stoke the fires, to anger him further, cloth rips as he yells and everything goes downhill from there.

These moments between man and beast are always the most difficult, the ones that seem to last forever, the ones that plague him with so many thoughts he feels his head will explode. Would an army be enough to stop her? Hundreds upon hundreds of lost souls hanging overhead, conveyor belts transporting his army on an endless display of his greatest accomplishments. He could only hope enough of his machines would survive the waves of lycans she would throw at them; he could practically see it, teeth bared and eyes gaunt, claws reaching to grab onto something, anything that would give it purchase, an armor plate, perhaps the tube that kept the soldier’s blood pumping. One after the other the lycans would fall, until they had become too many, a pile of writhing half-humans feasting on its disgusting prey. He could practically hear it, and every exploded reactor chipped away a sliver of his confidence - and his sanity.

He never intended to get involved, never intended to join the battle and cut through monsters. His eyes had always been set on Mother, Mother and the stupid lieutenants she called her children. Moreau crying for it all to stop, Donna cowering with Angie behind moldy wings. Alcina would be the only one to face him head on, he knew, and finally he would be able to tear her apart with her own nails. He would then pluck one out to shoot it right at the dollmaker’s face, right onto the squirming parasite that inhabited the half of her face where her eye ought to be. To Moreau he would give a present, a grenade for him to swallow whether he felt hungry or not, a tasty last meal for the disgusting fish man who scraped the bottom of the muddy river. As for Miranda, he hoped it was enough, he was enough, all of his experimentations and studying and training coming together to make him unstoppable. Only time would tell, and with each passing day he grew wearier, and the beast stronger.

But what did he have to lose?

His mind barely registered his actions as he made his way out of the factory, a bundle of papers tucked under his arm, hammer and cigar long forgotten. The world greeted him with a sheen of milky fog, of faded colors that threatened to jump at him in full vibrancy at a moment’s notice, threatened to overwhelm his already weakened perception. His tendons pulled and muscles ached with each agonizing step, left knee and elbow burning like he had shoved them inside a furnace and forgotten to take them out. His head hurt worse than the most gruesome of hangovers, light swimming in his eyes and creating a dozen blind spots that could lead him to any number of traps. Beads of perspiration had gathered on his brow despite the cold, the kind of feverish sweat that keeps you awake at night and makes you see stars and aliens, eyes rolling back but somehow wide open in a never ending fever dream. He had grown accustomed to it, the high of growing into a behemoth of flesh and steel, and the lows that came with it when it was all over and he had to return to being a shell of a man with enough rage to make the devil jealous.

Most times he would lie face down against the factory floor, let the stone ease him into restless sleep, until some hauler tripped over him and decided to drag him along and out of the way. It had become so common he had instructed them for it, too, to leave him at his quarters and then carry on working, so that he could also carry on working as soon as this hurdle was over with. But then sometimes the fever grew so hot he would stumble out into the yard to find the nearest mound of snow to flop onto, and he could swear he could hear it fizzle under his skin.

This time he had taken to walking, the only thing in his mind as his body protested and he pretended not to listen, one foot after the other, though he had no clue where they would take him. His wounds bled as they always did, a new collection of scars every time he transformed and the metal lodged itself deep within his flesh, left a trail behind as he made his way down towards the river, the trees his only support. It was then he heard it, the faintest of whispers, the most alluring of laughs. He raised his head to catch a glimpse of her, running away to hide from him, inviting him to chase her and catch her, lay her on a bed of twigs and thorns and explore her endless delights.

His little witch in the woods, naked under the moonlight just like he had imagined, standing right in the middle of the bridge that shook more violently than ever before. She did not seem to mind the cold, did not care about her dignity, her cheeks flushed and desire in her eyes as she called to him, and he could not help but follow.

He had stumbled on the last plank, foot stuck between a rusty nail and loose splinter just as he was about to catch her, when he reached out his hand and felt her hair slipping between his fingers. His face had hit the ground before he could register what happened, his little witch gone, a mouthful of snow and dirt all he had, papers scattering in the wind with the fall.

In his clarity he could hear the shuffling of feet in the distance, the frantic sniffing as the wolfmen smelled its prey in the air. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched him from behind the trees, hungry, desperate, waiting for his conscience to slip, for him to never get up, for him to stop walking, to heed their call and fall into their trap. The anxious tingle on his fingertips tells him he’s on edge, that fear creeps up his bones and into his blood and out of his pores like the sweetest of perfumes. But his bones hurt, so very much that there is no space for anything else in his mind. He picks himself up and walks, walks like he has a purpose, like he knows where to go and just what to say. Heisenberg no longer strode with the confidence of a man who knows there is nothing in this world more dangerous than himself, but with the sensation of being so small, so insignificant, a bundle of flesh and blood that could be torn and consumed. All that was left was the hope, the knowledge that something old prowled the woods, older than himself, something immensely powerful that meant him no harm.

He cannot tell if the sigh of relief stays only in his head when he sees the fence in the distance, rounds the yard lightning fast for a feverish man, the sound of his steps crunching the snow almost comical as he tried to run faster than his legs could take him. He catches himself on the porch railing before his teeth can hit the wood as he stumbles once again. There is no fear, only humor in his laughter, because he has made it, reached the safe haven of that decrepit cabin hidden between the mountains.

The witch stood at the porch, basket of laundry at her hip as she made her way out the door, an improvised clothesline strung between a post and a lantern hook. She was not startled this time, the expression on her face telling him he was expected, the smell coming from inside the cabin making his stomach rumble. He tries not to stare too long, not to pay attention to her beautiful features; every second they seem more twisted, a sinister smile, a hole where her face should be, a multitude of eyes, a pair of antlers. The disappointment was perhaps the worst of all, the look of disgust in her eyes. He cannot tell apart reality and dream and at this point he would prefer not to.

She blinked once, twice, confusion adorning her features as she looked him up and down but surely failed to understand just why Karl Heisenberg had dragged himself all the way up to her home wounded, naked except for his trench coat and hat, and looking like a man so high he could see beyond time. He had no shame left in him, between his confidence and the fever, and despite the weirdness of the situation, she was unfazed after the first few seconds, even when she lifted his chin to look him in the eye and he recoiled like an injured beast. If she hounded him for answers, she would get none. She would be lucky if he managed to mutter his own name.

He can’t tell if he had found the sanity to greet her, mind relaxing and patting itself in the back for successfully bringing him to his destination. She sets the basket down and walks towards him to come fetch him, one hand on his shoulder and the other settling on his waist as she guided him inside, and he cannot help but notice there are fingers and toes where her laundry should be, a bountiful, but gruesome harvest. A warning light flashes in his head when the cabin looks different, hands and organs and heads displayed in a macabre backdrop of blood and guts. He is shaking like a leaf when she sits him down on the couch, papers (papers?) taken away from him to be placed on the dinner table, and only when he motioned to grab them did he notice his hand was long gone, blown away like it had been caught in a shrapnel blast. He bites down on his lip as a last ditch attempt not to scream in horror, teary eyed and hurting. An entire mess and a half, with no explanation to give either him or her, but she did not seem to mind, busy grabbing her tools (saw, knife, cutters), wearing the bloodshed like a cape that was made to fit her.

She left him unattended but a moment before returning with the same box of supplies she had used when they first met (surely the tools she had hid within her apron pockets), cloth and antiseptic and the promise that this would burn, bad. He had half a mind to tell her not to worry, to let him bleed and heal on his own like he knew he would. He meant to tell her it was all good, and he had lost that hand before, and the leg, and the blood, and the sanity. It hurt but would not kill him, nothing could, even though he had tried. Instead he said nothing, for he had vastly overestimated his capabilities, less than half a mind at this point, pain and fear sloshing within him like a furious tide. The hat was the first to come off, and he tried to ignore how gentle her touch felt when she brushed back his hair to get a better look at his face.

“Are you still with us, my lord?” Her voice was but an echo inside his head, light as a feather as he rested against the couch and felt sleep tugging at his conscience, though the shock would not let him go. He is unsure whether he is asleep or awake after that, if the feeling of her fingers tracing over his skin are a hallucination or reality, but he sees it clearly regardless, feels it just the same. He taps his foot on the floor impatiently and notices that it is wet, it is all wet, the waters come in through the open door and flood every nook and cranny, only a matter of time before they are both drowned. Not water, no, blood, viscous, fresh, warm blood.

His trench coat is gently pushed off his shoulders, blood staining the throw that lined the couch but getting lost in the scenery, and dexterous fingers run over his scars, find their way to the open wounds speckled on his skin like a starry sky. Her touch was gentle but it hurt regardless, the haze in his mind imprisoning him in what felt like a perpetual state of suffering. The burning turned instead to the raw sensation of being torn apart, the flesh of his abdomen rending impossibly under her ministrations. He looks down to see her hand has disappeared on him, no, in him, the corners of her mouth stretched into an impossible smile. He is fully gone when something tugs at him, within him, bile gathering in his throat at the thought, at the feeling of having someone poke around his insides - again.

It is then that it all hits him, laughter explodes and he bellows - he has finally died. He sees it now, how it was all an illusion, and in reality he had been splayed in the snow all this time, blood pooling around his body and inviting all manner of predators to feast on him when the bones of the earth failed to claim him so many times before. A clever lycan had found a nice open spot to wedge its claws in and pull his guts out to munch on, another tore unceremoniously through to the same effect, and his visions of the witch were nothing but a pleasant mirage his brain had decided to afford him, a small mercy as he bid his consciousness goodbye at long last.

Tree tops and the dark sky are all he sees when he opens his eyes. At least he’d go in style, he thought with a snicker, and the hallucinations of her hands on him just like he’d fantasized spurred something within and made him stand to attention. What a fitting end, open and spilled like a bag of grain, guts wrapped around the papers he had brought with like an exotic crimson ribbon, and the biggest hard-on he had ever had.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #only the gods can judge me #virgil writes

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joshstambourine · 3 years

Text

Ship Ask #2

Hi sweetheart 🥰 you sound absolutely adorable!! I love getting all these ship asks and getting to imagine yall, every one sounds so amazing 💜

I'm happy to do a couple ships for you~

For your friend-ship...

I can picture you getting along with Danny

I liked the thought of you having another calm friend to vibe with!

Especially given who I shipped you with, you might need a bit of a breather with a very chill person.

I really think Danny would happily listen to whatever rants you have on books and movies.

He’d think it’s really freaking endearing.

And also maybe be slightly jealous of how smart you are?

“Wait how did you get that from that---- I... I didn’t even realize that was what they were getting at!”

You would probably have to walk him through a lot of it but once you did Danny would probably agree with you strongly on your conclusions.

I think he’d really love to take you out to all the prettiest outdoor locations he could think of for you to paint at.

Danny would help you lug all of your supplies where ever you were going, and try to set it up again in a way that makes it comfortable for you to work.

“...wow! That color is spot on for the leaves of that tree! Which ones did you mix?”

I also just really think that he’s the kind of friend that, if he did upset you... he wouldn’t let you be mad at him for long.

He would do everything in his power to get you back into a place where you both could be happy in each others company again.

Danny will also always be a listening ear.

He really loves both you and Sam, so anytime you need to vent or just talk about things that are stressing you out in the relationship he will be right there to provide a listening ear

As well as any tips he can give.

All in all, Danny is a safe place for you to land.

A place where you can express any feelings you may have, and he will always be the one to support you and make you feel important.

For your romantic ship...

I fought myself for a bit since I could easily picture you with two of the boys specifically.

Finally though I picked Sam

Now, the reason I leaned more toward shipping you with Sam was because you mentioned that you aren't good with planning ahead.

I always get very mixed vibes for Sam when it comes to this topic.

I do think for certain things he loves spontaneity.

Spontaneous dates.

Spontaneous drives and trips.

Spontaneous dancing.

But from the way you're talking it sounds like you’re maybe talking more important or pressing things?

Sam I have always imagined as someone who would be really on the ball with that kind of stuff. He’d perhaps even help you look forward to doing those things that you might normally avoid.

“Babe, just a little more work and it’ll be all done! You wont ever have to think about doing it again!”

“As soon as you’re finished it, lets go out! Lets get ice cream or something okay?”

I know I normally make Josh the one that analyzes everything but I also think this is something the Sam would do.

Sam has always struck me as an intellectual, someone who would always be up for a debate on the meaning of a book or the subtext behind a movie.

Oh sweetie, he is going to be all for reading poetry to you!

And then discussing what meaning you think the poems have

You’d be laying on his lap and all the while he’d be playing with your hair, “You know I think the writer is perhaps talking about a parents love here? What do you think?”

Picturing Sam with such a tiny S/O makes my heart go ape shit.

Sam would just want to smother you in love every time he really considers just how much shorter you are than him.

*Mid bear hug* “I’m sorry (Y/N), it’s just.... gaaaah, I can’t get over how freaking tiny you are!! I love it so god damn much!”

You mentioned your body type, and honestly honey I don’t think body type would matter to any of the boys really.

But! Even if its not something you are self-conscious about, Sam would constantly gush about how perfect you are.

He would never want you to feel any less loved because of your body type, because to him you would always be the most beautiful thing in the room.

Kisses everywhere when you’re alone.

Sam is really going to want to read your writing. He loves you. He loves the things you make.

“But why? Why do you want to read it?”

“Because! It’s just another thing I can be proud of you for.” Sam would say with a loving smile.

He’d always want you to feel like the smart person you really are. And because of that would be very respectful.

Sam might want to offer his thoughts on your writing but only if you’re willing to hear them. They are never out of dislike, never out of thinking you’re a bad writer. He just wants to help!

For your painting, Sam would want to make sure you had all the supplies you liked.

He doesn’t strike me as someone who necessarily is good at art (correct me if I’m wrong pls) but he has said he has a strong interest in it!

So he’d take your word when it comes to the things you need. And would always be getting you more paper and types of paint to try.

Sam would never stifle you creatively!

Sam would be a gentle and loving boyfriend. Happily expressing his more academic side with you, and loving every piece of you with out restraint!

//Hopefully you like it babes! I really loved writing it out for you! Ship asks are still open, so please feel free to hop into my asks if you would like one done!//

#Greta Van Fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet ship #gvf ships #ship asks #ally does ships #anon ships #sam gvf #sam kiskza #danny gvf #danny wagner

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