artisticide

[artisticide]

Beautiful disaster 🎨

[artisticide]

" Excuse me, but could you, um, direct me to- towards a bookshop?" the blond scratched his thin goatee while tapping the male on the shoulder. being a tourist and having lack of courage to talk to older people Rui pointed out and aimed at the young male.

         ○If Avery was more of an idealist, he would consider this to be meeting of fate. But, as he wasn’t, the fact that this man was looking for a bookshop the same time the artist was heading to one was a pure coincidence. He briefly studied the other. The chance to do good weighed against his lack of desire to have someone accompany him on his trip. It was a short fight. The artist nodded, repressing a heavy sigh. ❝I’m heading to one right now as it was. I’ll walk you there.❞

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          She was quite a beautiful woman. Catherine studied the woman with an intense, inquisitive gaze. Her son had a type, she knew. He didn’t bring many lovers around. But, those she did see happened to have a different sort of beauty to them. None were the same, but they all held some sort of beauty that was almost ethereal. Avery always seemed to spot that out in people. Catherine didn’t want to assume. Perhaps she was just being a little hopeful her son found someone rather than being alone. “That’s right,” she answered, “I thought I would come in person because he doesn’t answer any of my calls. That ungrateful brat. Somehow, I raised that kind of son.” Despite the amused chuckle, a moment of pain shot across azure eyes. But it was closed off immediately. Instead, she focused on the woman. She walked closer, holding out her hand. “I’m Catherine. Are you perhaps a model? You’re so beautiful.”

   Anais had plans to spend the evening with Avery. However, she had wanted to go see him a little before the evening came, so on her way she went. It was becoming a normal even for her to go and stay over with him, visit him, in the end, Anais wanted to spend as much time as she could with him. However, walking in the studio she would deem empty, she encountered a woman.. Her footsteps were rather slow since the encounter, and the female looked around the room to see if Avery was in there with them. With a quirked brow, she took in the others appearance. She did have some sort of uncanny resemblance to him.. Yet, she wouldn’t know, family wasn’t much of a topic the two discussed, the only reason he had met her mother, was because she had intruded.    Yet when the other spoke, Anais offered a light smile, and in return she greeted back. “Ah, Hello there! Are you here to see Avery?”

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      Every single worry of hers was justified. And deep in his core, the artist knew this. He disappeared for days, even weeks at a time. Too busy drowning in his vices to even look at his cell phones. Once, it had been easy for him to simply go and feed into his addictions without needless consideration for others. But every thought he had seemed to round about to her. It was so hard not to run back to her in those weak days. But he would do anything for Anais to not see that part of him. She deserved better, surely. But he was far too selfish to let her go. She had crawled under his skin. And if their arguments made him bemoan her grip on him, he would never come to regret it.

        ❝ Because it’s impossible for me to even consider it. I won’t leave you. I can’t! Even if you’re being an annoying little twit. Like now. I’m fucking pissed off at you. But you’re just being concerned for me in a pissy fashion. And I love that. Fuck me if I know why! ❞ He tried to step away, hoping to create some distance until he tried to figure his standing. She drew such contrevosial reactions from him. He had a har dtime figuring out which was real. Only she could shake his foundation in such a way. He slammed his fist against the wall. ❝ So tell me why!  If I’m such a fucking worry, why do you always come back? ❞

   Anais listened to him, and her expression was a scowl, she was just so tired of being worried.. Yet, she couldn’t help it, she wasn’t going to pretend as if everything was alright. With that she glanced away from him, she knew she was a nag.. But she only did it because he would vanish for so long, and now he would only just point out everything she was doing was a bother to him. With that, Anais just turned her attention straight at him. Her hands were gripping on his shirt, and she was just going to take a deep breath, yet she didn’t seem to calm down, it was like he was wanting to piss her off even more. 

   “Jumping down your throat?!” The female began. “I worry! Because I’m scared one day you won’t come back. Whatever you’re doing! I want to know that you are safe. Why is that so hard for you to get through that fucking thick head of yours.” She pointed to her own head and clenched her hands into a fist. 

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            ❝ Of course. I’m sure you have it in spades. ❞ Gentle teasing like this didn’t happen often with him. Some people were so serious. Avery was too. But he could indulge in some humor.

            ❝ Excuse me for not admiring your ass. Eventually they all do the same thing, which is passing shit. Heh. Please, i’m too much of a ruin to have anything or anybody ruin me. ❞

                                         ♛ •〖   𝓐𝓵𝓾𝓲𝓷   〗• ♛

            ❛   Common sense of course.   ❜  He coos with a smile growing with glee. Now this is how the vampire likes it, the air at ease, clean, calm with more than enough room to joke around.

            ❛  Come on, my ass is great and pretty fun to grab, there’s no way I passed a unicorn. Oh hold on, are you trying to pass the blame? Ashamed are we that a unicorn ruined you?   ❜  

[artisticide]

vaincxnt

          So, this was where her son worked. Catherine’s eyes drunk in the spacious, wide walls littered with Avery’s creations. Awe grounded into her eyes and stance as she stood before his largest canvas piece. Masterpieces, she called them. Even though her son fervently denied that (an artist thing, she figured). Avery denied a lot of things she did. Like visiting. Ever since his first relapse, she hardly saw her one and only child unless it was special occasions. But even that was cut down. Thus, her untimely visit. He would fight her, of course. But she expected that and came fully prepared to fight back. Her head turned when she heard the door open. But rather than seeing her son, a beautiful female entered. A moment’s pause before Catherine greeted the woman with a warm, yet curious, “Hello.”

[artisticide]

Alternative Style Blog ♡

Photo credit @dollfille aka Toshi Salvino on facebook.

[artisticide]

              Eyes momentarily closed, fingers lacing in her lap as the brush touched her. Her response was muted by such, not that she was uncomfortable in the slightest, it was merely an odd feeling on ones flesh but a pleasant one as well. 

“I do not believe those whom come to an artist should really have a right to create terms.. perhaps I give the artist too much credit due to their work.” She wasn’t entirely sure but it was simply how she felt, it didn’t make a lick of sense, these peoples terms. The model was just a canvass, at least, she thought.

         ○ As always, the second the brush was in his hands and began creating, he felt a new, yet familiar, sense of tranquility. It settled in his bones. His hand glided with a touch of perfection under its control. His entire focus settled on the woman’s back and the creation he was commencing. A little snort lifted from him. They shared the same sentiment. But being creatively free all the time didn’t pay his bills, unfortunately.

        ❝ The right to do something could be just as subjective as art itself. To some, my right to do whatever I want was signed anyway with the exchanging of currency. To them, I’m just another service. ❞ It left a bitter, chalky taste in his mouth. His largest clients had that mindset. And he had no choice but to follow the commercial exchange between them. It made his artistic soul weep in shame. ❝ But true art is unfiltered and passionate. And dangerous. ❞

[artisticide]

        ○ In the hands of Morpheus, the artist found a new sense of comfort and peace. Without the harsh realities of wake the waking world offered, Avery truly felt unfiltered. He smiled; he laughed; he cried. Without any sort of self-expectations, his dreams became the place he was truly meant to be. A broken stream of consciousness offered respite, no matter how small.

Then it was gone. And the unrelenting pressure of consciousness came back to him. Emerald eyes tugged open once again, unfocused and hazy. They wandered around the familiar setting, looking but unseeing. Then his gaze landed on the female. His lips remained stubbornly closed as his mind tried to process...anything.

For a heartbeat, she thought he’d woken up. Thought that perhaps he’d consider going home for proper rest–A brief glimpse of foggy emeralds that all too quickly are hidden by heavy lids. His hand rises and she wonders if he was awake-but then it closes around her hand and settles against his chest. Eh?—–Oh dear.

            ❝ Monsieur? ❞ Nope. He doesn’t want to wake up it would seem.. Perhaps she should leave him to sleep then but–What was she going to do with his hand? She opt to tug. And really-this place couldn’t be safe for a mortal could it?

[artisticide]

I had a bout of insomnia last night. So I didn’t sleep at all. Now I’m eating an orange and drinking coffee. And I was thinking about Avery’s parents. Good morning, morning folks. I hope you’re having a good day so far.

[artisticide]

明明真

[artisticide]

          Despite the lingering scent of paint and smoke (or maybe because of it), he slept soundly. The large painting took two weeks to finish. Two weeks in which he basically lived at his studio, living off small foods and his own dedication to the project. Now that it was finished, he wanted to sleep everything away. But his time of peace was interrupted. Green eyes opened slowly to stare at the figure standing above him. Mentally lethargic, the artist didn’t register much of anything. Instead, his hand reached out and took hers. Then off back to sleep did he go.

She always had an eye for lovely portraits and sculptures. Art was a blessing in many ways by those with the creative minds. Curiously she had wandered into the artistic area and thus, the young man’s studio. The piece left to dry clearly having been carved in a most exquisite fashion–but the soft sighs alert her of the one dozing. Oh dear..                     ❝ Ah–Monsieur? ❞ A gentle nudge,  ❝ Sorry for waking you, but-Sleeping like this you might catch a cold. ❞

[artisticide]

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            ❝ It’s not...usual. Sometimes I do have clients who want me to paint them. But they want it on their own terms. And I don’t really get model from you. ❞ So why was she here in the first place? Just one of those lost souls who wandered in an artist’s studio out of curiosity. For whatever reason ( he didn’t care enough to ask), she was there. And he was thankful for it.

           His eyebrows rose slightly. Her posture was great. Was she even an amateur? The artist was glad however. He hummed under his breath. An odd name, but she was an odd woman. ❝ Tell me if you get uncomfortable and we can take a small break. ❞ But he already dipped his paint brush in the black paint. The artist started the intense process of creating something with another person.

         Hands moved, arms extended to catch the rubber band he had tossed. Legs carried her a little closer as hands gathered up locks in a bundle to be put up in a big bun, pieces tucked behind her ears. She plopped down to sit, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands to rest in her lap. 

“It is fine, I am just glad I am able to help.” Eyes closed at the reveal of his name, it was easy on the tongue and she liked it. “I am Kichi, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Head lowered slightly now but her back remained straight and it wasn’t even intentional, she was just taught to always have a good posture.

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         The car slowed to a stop. He glanced at her, amusement pulling his lips up in a smile. She wasn’t good with directions. That was cute. He leaned over and gave a chaste kiss on her cheek. ❝ Alright. Look. I know where to go now. It’ll just be a few more minutes. ❞ He put the car back in drive with a little grin. ❝ Now I know to never give you a map. ❞

  Anais was a little nervous, because in the end, she wasn’t good with directions. She wanted to surprise him, but she had sent him a few times off road, although she wasn’t ready to admit that. With an embarrassed expression she glanced away. “I’m sorry.. I had this weekend planned for us, in a nice hotel, that is hidden.. But I think I just got us lost” She pouted. 

[artisticide]

[artisticide]

angclique startercall

          Avery didn’t mind so much when visitors walked into his studio. Often they were simply clients looking for his services. Or other artists who wanted to talk. There were few curious souls who walked in on the street. So, his door was open to whoever. Of course, this was a bit of a problem as the artist snoozed on his sofa, exhausted from the large art piece that stood drying in the middle of the room.