Text
97K notes
·
View notes
Text
I have been doodling a lot on my iPad mini these days, after a couple of years of just not feelin’ anything artwise. But I have shamefully neglected to post them to Tumblr! So have an art dump!
It started with a sheep. I was messing around with new watercolor tools and crosshatching tools, thought “that looks kinda like a sheep” and then took out the bits that didn’t look like a sheep.
The noble Aukhound, originally bred to herd migratory seabirds. These majestic, slightly damp creatures are now used extensively in ecological restoration work.
I do this whenever I see a frog.
Then I was just in the mood for weird shadowy cloaked figures.
You know that’s a clove cigarette.
Portrait Of A Creature With A Chicken On Its Head
Just two weird little creatures having tea together.
13K notes
·
View notes
Note
okay perhaps: build a bear receipt, Mortified, perhaps to literal death, annnnnnd Barry :3
Did this get slightly out of hand? Who could say (me, it did.)
From this prompt list.
-
Barry knew what Build a Bear was, well, conceptually. You went in, you spent an obscene amount of money, you came out with a creature - possibly one wearing sunglasses and a tutu. It hadn’t been a thing when Barry was a kid, not one his Mum could afford anyway. But now he was stood in one, overwhelmed, confused, and being pressured to make decisions quickly.
The type was easy, Beary Bluejeans had to be a bear. Tick tick, done. Or, it should have been done, but there were 18 different kinds of bear to choose from and no clear parameters for selection. Every single one of them was a sad deflated puddle of fluff, and sure, Barry could relate, but he also knew there had to be a right answer. Gifts were a test. Probably. Well, Barry thought they were a test, and he had never met a test he couldn’t worry extensively about. Lup probably wouldn’t mind, this was just a small gesture, a little joke between friends. She called him Bear, he was going to get her a bear with his signature jeans. Casual, fun, no one’s harbouring any massive crushes and may or may not be in love with anyone else. Lup saw him as a friend and that was fine. All good! What was not all good, was the crowd of children building up around him. He was finding this hard enough without kids bashing into his legs, all sharp elbows and whirling rucksack attacks.
After intense deliberation he decided on a soft medium-brown teddy the shelf proclaimed was ‘vintage.’ Barry could relate, he was vintage too. The modern bears had intensely large eyes or fur that didn’t feel as nice under his fingers - this guy though, this little soft puddle could be him, could be Lup’s, he could be Lup’s… Another kid slammed their elbow into his knee and Barry staggered. How much did he actually need to be here? He could leave, he could put Beary down and go, Lup would never know, no one would know, he didn’t make any promises about doing this. ‘Man Incapable of Purchasing Bear’ would only be a headline in his brain. It might be nice to have a fun new failure to torture himself about at 2am when he couldn’t sleep? Something funky fresh to add to the flagellation rotation. Even as he entertained the thought he knew he wouldn’t do it. The gesture was good, the joke was good, it would make Lup laugh, he loved to make Lup laugh, it was worth some bruising.
Barry finally escaped from the scrum round the toy pelts? Skins? It all sounded bad. He needed to stop thinking about it in taxidermy terms, but this sure was a skin without the meat. Build a Bear was taxidermy for babies and no one could tell him any different. At least he knew the next step, they probably weren’t working with armature, so it’d be stuffing. He had definitely walked past some kind of woolly slushy machine on the way in so he tried to retrace his steps. Did the shop actually need to be this big and this full of people? Maybe they should do adult-only hours where everyone could just pick their bears in silence and form orderly queues and not run into anyone else actually.
“Excuse me!” Someone tapped lightly on his shoulder.
“Sorry, was I supposed to pay over there? I didn’t realise, I thought I did it at the end.” He couldn’t call Lup to bail him out if he got arrested. He couldn’t ruin the surprise… also she’d want pictures, his mug shot would be on t-shirts, mugs, pyjama sets, pillows, he’d never ever live it down. “I’ll pay now here, let me just grab...” Barry nearly dropped Beary as he fumbled for his wallet, but he couldn’t afford to get arrested right now. The stakes were high.
“Oh, you’re not in any trouble Sir! You forgot to get a sound and you can’t forget your new friend’s heart!” She smiled so big that Barry didn’t dare ask what most of the words meant.
“Ah, uh, okay… uh, where do I…?”
“I’ll show you, come with me! I’m Lydia.” Barry tried not to acknowledge the look on her face which clearly telegraphed This Idiot Can’t Bear.
“It’s fine, you can just, uh, point me in the right direction, I just need the stuffing and I should, ah, be fine.” Barry was going to expire on the spot and emerge a terrifying spectre, no one could grab him and make him keep doing bears if he was incorporeal. Lup probably wouldn’t mind, she’d probably think it was rad to be friends with a death spectre… in fact, Barry was fairly sure he remembered her saying something about it being cool to bang a ghost… huh… nope! He couldn’t follow that thought anywhere right now, because apparently he had to think about what sound Beary was going to make and also there was a heart and fuck fuck fuck. Lydia had definitely been explaining. Barry nodded enthusiastically, not wanting her to realise he’d been ignoring her, this wasn’t her fault and she had a job to do.
“Great, it’s 20 seconds. If you head to the bathroom it’ll be a bit quieter.” She shoved a contraption and Barry and nodded encouragingly. “Just speak clearly into it, and remember, 20 seconds. Once you’re done, come back and we’ll start the ceremony.”
“Ceremony? I… wh…” She cut Barry off with a gentle shove towards the bathrooms. There probably wasn’t any point in arguing, he’d already agreed so apparently he was recording a message… a message for Lup. That was fine. He could do that.
Barry couldn’t do that.
Barry was seven practice recordings deep.
Barry was never going to leave the bathroom, he lived here now. If he didn’t record the message then it couldn’t be bad, that was just science. Flawless hypothesis.
He’d already tried something casual. “Hey Lup, it’s me, Beary. I think you’re Beary wonderful.” Bad. Awful. Terrible. D-, she’s never speaking to him again. Funny: “Bear with me, voice message loading…” also bad. Heartfelt… he couldn’t even think about what he’d said, he’d been rambling long after the 20 seconds were done. The bear noises had been fun, roaring in a toilet was a strange experience and Barry usually loved strange experiences, but this was absolutely not it. “Will you Beary me?” was great on the pun front, terrible on the we’re-just-friends-I’m-definitely-not-in-love-with-you side of things. Ghost noises almost won the day until he considered her accidentally rolling on it in the night and waking up spooked. The time he dropped the recorder and swore a lot while trying to pick it up was probably the best of the bunch.
Eventually he settled on Arrane Ben-Vlieaun, or, “the magic cow song” as Lup insisted. He found a corner next to the sink which seemed to have relatively reasonable acoustics and rumbled the first bit out “Cur dty vainney, cur dty vainney, choud's mish ta goaill arrane. Lhig yn curn nish goll harrish, lesh dty vainney my vooaveen.” There. That was probably fine. Lup sometimes got him to sing it when she was struggling to sleep, it made sense to pre-load it in Beary. He definitely didn’t have time for any more attempts, he was surprised Lydia hadn’t already burst through the wall like a terrifyingly peppy terminator.
She zeroed in on him when he emerged. “There you are! I thought you’d gotten lost, are you ready?”
Barry hesitated, maybe he could try one more time… he pulled his hand back as Lydia reached out for the device. No, eight was enough, it had to be enough. The cow song was fine. He nodded and handed over the recording majigger. Lydia smiled even wider, Barry debated counting her teeth, she definitely had too many.
“Fantastic!” Lydia said, then set off towards the fluff box. Barry followed, there was no way off the ride at this point, he may as well keep his arms and legs inside the car. “Okay, so this is very important, we’re going to perform the heart ceremony.”
Barry is fairly sure this is going to be different to the type of heart ceremonies in his books at home… probably? There definitely weren’t any ceremonial knives on display. “Okay?”
“You’re going to develop your special bond with your new friend…?” Lydia paused and looked at Barry expectantly.
“Beary.”
“Beary. Huh…”
“He’s called Beary Bluejeans.” Barry added, thinking that might make her stop doing the squinchy face at him. It didn’t.
“That’s… super!” She said after a long pause. “So, we’re going to make sure you and Beary build a special bond and you always look after him and love him forever and ever.”
“It’s okay, we can just do the stuffing, that’s fine, I uh, I don’t need to, you know, do the uh, the bonding thing.”
Lydia gave him a hard look. “We don’t send the bears home with just anyone, we need to know you’re going to look after Beary Bluejeans.”
Barry wasn’t sure he’d felt fear like this before… did he actually like Lup enough to go through with this? Was he scared enough of Lydia to do whatever she said? “What do I have to do?” He’d die for Lup, multiple times if necessary, and he was fairly sure Lydia would put him in the ground without a second thought - still smiling - if she felt he wouldn’t be a competent guardian for Beary.
Lydia solemnly handed him a small plastic heart. “This is Beary Bluejeans’ heart. We’re going to establish your bond now. Are you ready?”
Barry waited for further instruction.
“Are. You. Ready?” He wasn’t sure a polite tone had ever felt so much like knives.
“Yeah, uh, yes Lydia.”
Her smile was back. “Fantastic, take Beary’s heart and rub it on your toes so he’s totally awesome.”
“I’m… what?”
“Rub it on your toes so he’s totally awesome.” Lydia repeated, then mimed the action. Barry looked longingly towards the exit, it wasn’t that far, he could probably just drop Beary’s floppy corpse and run. “Sir, on your toes, so he’s toe-tally awesome.”
Barry bent over and ignored the rice crispies and milk noises his back made in protest. He swiped the plastic across his shoe.
“Now rub it on your cheeks so Beary gives warm smiles.” Barry didn’t think it was particularly hygienic to rub something on his toes and then his face, but who was he to fly in the face of the experts? He rubbed the heart quickly on his cheek.
“Rub it on your hip so he’s hip and cool.”
Barry was at least 90% Lydia was messing with him by this point. Barry wasn’t hip, he wasn’t cool, and he certainly wasn’t funky fresh. If Taako was here Barry could probably scoop up some of his vibes, but Barry certainly wasn’t a reliable coolness supply. Beary was going to get Barry’s clicky hip, lose all the street cred he’d earned in his short life, and say goodbye to his fuzzy charisma.
“Nearly there! Rub it on your arms so Beary always gives good hugs.”
Barry promised himself he was never going to return to Build a Bear, this was hell, Lydia was the devil. He swished the heart near his arm.
“Like you mean it, Sir. You want him to give good hugs don’t you?” Lydia sing songed, loudly enough for the line behind him to hear.
Barry quickly rubbed the heart more forcefully across both arms.
“Now spin around to make him magical!” Barry was not going to spin around, he was going to think heavy thoughts and let himself sink into the floor. He wouldn’t have to exist in this room or any room ever again, he wouldn’t have to spin around with a stupid anatomically inaccurate heart, or deal with the line of children who were probably staring and laughing at him right now. Floor Barry, Flarry, he’d never have let this happen. “Don’t you want Beary to be magical, Barry?” No. He wanted Beary to be finished so he could leave. But Lup, Lup would probably want Beary to be magical… fine. Fine! Barry was going to spin around. He shuffled in a begrudging circle.
“And lastly, make a big wish!”
Barry wished this was over. That he was at home. That he hadn’t decided to get Lup this stupid bear. He wished he was brave enough to tell her he’d been in love with her for the last 8 years and probably would be for the rest of his life. But none of these wishes seemed like something he should wrap up in Beary. Barry considered for a moment, then wished, and wished hard that Lup would like him. Beary… obviously. The wish would know who he meant, it didn’t matter how he phrased it.
“So lastly, I need you to promise to always care for Beary, and seal the magic promise with a kiss.” Lydia was dead behind the eyes, Barry could tell, no one could be this chipper, not for the 6 years her badge said she’d worked there.
“Okay.” Said Barry. There was an excruciating pause. Lydia looked at him expectantly. Was he supposed to say more? Were there proper words? “I promise to, uh, to, take care of you Beary?”
“Are you asking, or telling?” Lydia said sweetly.
“I promise to always take care of you Beary.” Please let this be over.
“Now kiss his heart.”
This definitely wasn’t hygienic, not with all the rubbing and spinning. Barry decided to keep those concerns to himself. Lydia finally seemed satisfied, and instructed him on the foot pedal that would help him add the fluff to Beary.
They stuffed, fluffed, stopped for hug tests, and decided on the appropriate firmness. Barry could feel the heat in his face, but at least no one he knew was here to see it. Taako would never let him life this down. But it was fine, he was a 50 year old guy cuddle testing a bear which occasionally sang about milk at him in his own gravelly hum when he pressed the voice chip by accident and that was fine. Twenty entire seconds of excruciating singing while he waited for it to shut up and Lydia pretended not to be laughing about it. He was totally fine.
Lydia deftly stitched up the hole in Beary and handed him back. “Now I’m going to shoo you off to the grooming station so you can get Beary all fluffed and puffed and ready for snuggles. Have a wonderful day now!” Her relief was palpable.
Barry fled as soon as Lydia dismissed him, maybe he could skip the grooming, he didn’t really need to do that, surely? Beary seemed fine.
“Over here Sir! I’m Edward and I’m here to help you get your new friend looking their very best.”
Barry couldn’t outrun him, Edward was at least 30 years younger than him and looked like he’d be able to tackle Barry before he could make it three steps. “Okay.” His voice cracked. Maybe this was hell? Barry couldn’t leave, there would always be another step and another smiling assistant to help him.
Edward pointed at a large fake bath which swarmed with children. “You can give your new friend a bath and then we’ll dry them off and get them combed nicely for you.”
“Jeans!” Barry refused, he absolutely refused to pretend to bathe Beary surrounded by children who were no doubt just as sharp of elbow as the first group.
“I’m… I’m sorry Sir?” Edward looked nonplussed, but Barry refused to get suckered into this one. Next they’d tell him he could get custom smells.
“I.. uh, thanks Edward, but Beary’s good, he doesn’t need a bath, see! Super soft. He just needs some jeans please, then I’d like to check out. Thank you very much for your help.” There, he was doing it, Barry was a guy who could say what he wanted.
“Oh, sure, no problem, the clothes are over here!” Edward grinned easily and indicated a towering wall of options. “Have a great day, you can register Beary there when you’re done.” He pointed at a large bank of computer terminals. Of course, of course there were more steps.
“Then I can leave?”
Edward frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“I can pay and go, when I’ve done the computers bit?”
“Yeah?” Edward raised an eyebrow at Barry as if he was being insane, then remembered he wasn’t allowed to do that. “I mean, yes Sir, of course, the tills are just on the other side of the computer terminals.”
Barry grabbed the first denim he saw, shoved Beary into them at speed, tapped Captain Professor Dr. Beary Bluejeans esq.’s details into the computer terminals and finally, finally, smelled freedom. Beary was safely ensconced in his ‘house’ (which Barry was apparently allowed to colour in), Barry was handed a birth certificate, rinsed for more money than he anticipated, and finally allowed to leave. He blinked groggily as he emerged into the daylight. Barry was never ever ever returning to that cursed shop. Even for Lup. He could have sworn he’d lost years of his life wandering around that maze and trying to complete all the stupid tasks.
_________
Barry left the box on the doorstep, rang the bell, and fled. This was how friends delivered gifts, it was fine, in fact, Lup didn’t even have to know it was from him. His phone rang, Lup’s ringtone dragged his hand to his pocket before he’d even thought about it.
“Hey Barold, what’s in the goth box? I love the paint job, flame decal door is going right onto my Lup’s Dreamhouse wishlist.”
“I… uh.” Said Barry, intelligently.
“I can see you fleeing down the street, wanna turn round, Bluejeans? Not that the view is bad from here. Wink.”
Barry wheezed down the phone, turned, turned back, and debated throwing himself into a bush. If she couldn’t see him she couldn’t tease him, right?
“Okay… You continue rotating, my guy. Lup’s cracking into goth house of wonder to see what you got me.”
“I… I, well, you see… It’s… er.”
“Barold… Barry…” Lup gasped for breath. “Barry, why… why is this bear wearing hot pants?”
“Yes.” Said Barry. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe if he explained? She didn’t understand how much he needed to escape by the trouser selection stage.
“The bear is wearing denim hotpants.”
“They’re blue jeans.”
“My guy, they are blue jorts.”
“He’s called Beary.”
“Beary Bluejorts?” Lup cackled so hard he had to move the phone away from his ear. He moved it back just in time to hear “I love him.”
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 4: my baby boy Jasper
1 note
·
View note
Text
Day 3 if painting every day: cats cats cats cats
0 notes
Text
Day 2 of painting every day, Baertaffy's BRB twitch screen.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Decided I want to try my hand at painting, so I've been doing a painting a day all this week
0 notes
Text
I could never watch wrestling because I would just keep getting frustrated by the fact that they never start sucking and fucking even though i KNOW they want to
30K notes
·
View notes
Text
Cheating on my mutuals by checking the "For you" tab
41K notes
·
View notes
Text
65K notes
·
View notes
Text
Cinderella rewrite where Cinderella’s father is an unusually successful fisherman due to his secret friendships with the shy and mysterious mermaids, successful enough to attract a moderately wealthy and ambitious bride with two daughters. Once he dies, her stepmother, determined to make sure her daughters inherit the fishing business as dowries by marrying before Cinderella, forbids her from going out on the fishing boats or into town and makes sure she spends as much of her time as possible doing drudgework, hauling offal and cleaning fish. When the Prince’s ball comes around, an important occasion for young women to make good connections, the stepmother forbids her from going, telling her that she needs to get the latest salmon catch gutted and ready for sale instead.
Cinderella’s mermaid godmother calls upon her people to clean the fish and gifts her a dress and shoes of shimmering fish scales that wreathe her in rainbows under the moonlight. She makes an impression on the Prince at the ball so strong that he immediately falls in love with her, and when she’s forced to flee before her stepmother notices her (no masquerade mask or dancing rainbows will disguise her from her own family at close range), the Prince is left with only a delicate fish leather slipper left on the front steps to try to find her again.
He goes around the houses, seeking the owner of the slipper, but Cinderella is once again working in the fish sheds. He stepmother, desperate and determined and having found Cinderella’s other shoe that very morning, realises what has happened and takes a knife to the feet of her prettiest daughter, telling the prince that she suffered an injury that very morning but those are definitely her shoes, see, here’s the other one, and they still fit.
The daughter is pretty and witty and charming, and while the Prince doesn’t feel the same spark and instant sense of connection that he did at the party, he reasons that she’s overwhelmed and in pain and once she’s healed, all will be well. There are no birds to whisper of blood in the shoe – the Prince has seen the bandaged feet already – and the daughter slips on the shoes (the only shoes she has that will fit her, now,) and accompanies him to the palace.
But the stepmother is no doctor, and by the time the Prince gets her to the palace doctors, it’s too late – his beloved has contracted an infection in her feet from the shoe leather, made unclean in its travels. She will survive – it is an infection of a common filth of fish and birds, one that the doctors have potions for for the occasions where dangerously cooked food causes outbreaks – but in her raving, she confesses the whole scheme to the Prince who, furious, returns to the village to find the girl he truly fell in love with, the girl hidden from him.
“Oh, yeah, the fish cleaner,” the villagers shrug. “We don’t see her around very much, she’s probably in the sheds. Her family calls her Salmonella.”
41K notes
·
View notes
Text
88K notes
·
View notes