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evelyn-the-archivist · 2 years

Text

🕸 Click.

ARCHIVIST

I'm going to be recording your statement on this tape recorder, alright?

EVELYN

Isn't that a little... old fashioned?

ARCHIVIST

Maybe, but it's what works for us. We digitalize statements after they're recorded, anyway.

EVELYN

Okay, I guess that makes sense. Why change what works, right?

ARCHIVIST

Exactly.

Statement of Evelyn Marie, detailing...

EVELYN

My experience in an abandoned factory.

ARCHIVIST

Statement given January 19, 2001. Whenever you're ready, Evelyn.

EVELYN

Well, I was living in Tulip Hills, which is a small town in Ohio. There was an abandoned factory right at the center of it, and my best friend Max and I decided we wanted to explore it.

ARCHIVIST

Max's full name, please?

EVELYN

Uh, maybe I shouldn't.

ARCHIVIST

The more information we have, the more thorough our research can be.

EVELYN

Alright, I guess that makes sense. Max Ferry.

ARCHIVIST

Thank you. You can continue.

EVELYN

It wasn’t until we had gotten past the tall wire fencing that it sunk in for me what we were doing. The sun was high above us, but suppressed by the overgrowth at the untended factory site.

I rifled through my backpack, making sure I had everything we might need. Water, granola bars, first aid kit, flashlight, phone.

“Max, do you have everything you need?”

They flipped through their own, much smaller backpack. “I brought tarot cards?”

It wasn’t unusual for them to be unprepared, and I had brought enough food and water for the both of us, but I still found myself a little frustrated. “I’ve got us covered, I guess. Let’s find an entrance.”

We kept moving, and I was relieved to see that several of the windows had already been broken. Max started to climb through, but I stopped them. “What are you doing? Do you want to get glass in your arm?”

They chuckled a little. “Not really.”

I pulled my sleeve over my hand and carefully swept the broken shards away. “There. I might not have gotten all of it though, so be careful.”

The interior of the building was pitch black. The light shining through the windows seemed to stop just a little bit in, as if running into an invisible wall.

I pulled my flashlight out of my bag, and it clicked on satisfyingly. It was a heavy security flashlight, one that had single-handedly lit up an entire room before. But in that building, it didn’t extend any further than the light from the windows did. It was weak, flickering sporadically.

I was unsettled, but shook it off. The batteries were just low, right? No big deal.

I began to walk, but Max started to run.

I quickly gripped the back of their hoodie before they got ahead of me. “Hey, we need to stick together. I don’t want to lose track of you.”

They turned around, grinning sheepishly. “I’m just excited! We’re in an abandoned factory!”

I crossed my arms. “I know, but we have to be cautious. Who knows what’s inside of here?”

“Maybe a ghooooost~” they suggested, waving their arms up and down.

I laughed, and we kept moving.

It was warm inside the building. Warmer than it should have been, especially since Autumn was nearing its end. A thick droplet of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I could taste the heat on my tongue, dry like wilted grass.

The ground was cluttered with art supplies. I leaned down and picked a few up, but they were all unusable. The colored pencils were splintering apart, the watercolor paints were cracked and pounded into dust, the markers were dry and crushed. Not a single tool was in a salvageable state. “So many good supplies, wasted.”

Max looked down and saw the crayons crushed under their feet. “Yeah. My grandpa says that Fiverid Art used to be the heart of the town.”

“What happened to it?”

“A Crayola factory set up nearby, I think in the 1930’s? And they couldn’t keep up.”

“Ah, capitalism.”

We both laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t know already. Everyone in Tulip Hills knows about what happened.”

I waved the flashlight around for emphasis as I spoke. “I just moved here, remember? Shitty housing market?”

“Oh yeah! Pass me some water?”

I tossed them a bottle, which clattered to the ground. “Butterfingers,” I said, not bothering to hold back my laugh. “So how come it’s still here? Shouldn’t it have been demolished by now?”

They picked the bottle up and took a small drink before turning to me. “Well, that’s the creepy part. After Fiverid went under, the land was bought up almost immediately. But no one knows who bought it. The records were kept private by the city, probably at the purchaser’s request.”

I set the flashlight on the ground, facing it upwards. “That was years ago, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t that person be dead right now?”

“Probably, but the records are still private. Whoever owns it now is just as secretive as the old owner was.” They took another drink of the water.

“Huh. That’s... weird...” I fell silent, listening closely. There was something... “Do you hear that?”

Max glanced at me, furrowing their eyebrows, then stood very still for a moment. “Music, right?”

It was faint, but if I strained my ears I could hear it. A strange, erratic melody. It continued to wind up, never resolving on the right note. I couldn’t tell what instrument it was on, as if it was being made by something entirely unique.

The heat on my tongue grew more bitter, making my throat ache.

“Where’s that coming from?” I asked, wiping sweat off my forehead.

"Let's find out!”

Max darted ahead. I scrambled for the flashlight and ran after them, desperate not to get separated.

“Oh my god, slow down! I can’t run as fast as you!” I gasped for breath, the heat wearing me out even quicker than normal.

They whirled around and crossed their arms. “Don’t you want to find where the music is coming from?”

“Of course I do! But I can’t keep up with you if you're running.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll slow down. Pass me the flashlight?” They held out a hand.

“No! This flashlight is the only thing stopping you from going on without me.” I lightly shoved their shoulder. “If you had it, I bet you would leave me behind.”

Max rolled their eyes. “Fine. Come on.”

We kept walking, the light flickering dangerously.

After a few minutes, I heard Max gasp. “Oh my god, Evelyn, take a look at this.”

They crouched down, gesturing at... well...

Hands are complicated. 27 unique bones, held together with sinew and tendons, and layers of fat and skin on top. To fully recreate a hand, of paper and wood and rubber, it would take hours of painstaking work. And what would even be the point of it?

Yet, someone had gone to the trouble of doing just that. A false hand lay on the ground, detailed and rotting.

Sweat slid down my back.

There was a piece of paper lying underneath it. Max kneeled down, slid it out, and looked it over.

“Max, I don’t think-”

“It says ‘It Will Replace Us.’”

“What?”

They held it up in the flickering light, grinning excitedly. “On the paper. ‘It Will Replace Us.’ Come on, take a closer look!”

I didn’t move from where I was standing. The paper was just as old as everything else in the factory. With all the water stains and wrinkles, I was surprised it was legible at all.

The heat was almost unbearable. I felt sick.

Max stood up and stepped closer to me, still holding the paper. “Creepy, huh? What do you think it means?”

“Maybe we should go.”

It was then that the flashlight clicked off.

Max started laughing immediately. “Now that’s fun. Perfect timing, huh?”

I shook my head, before realizing they couldn’t see me. “I want to leave.” Nausea pulsed through me.

Max rested a hand on my arm. “I know it’s a bit spooky, but the only thing we’re in danger from here is tetanus. If you really want to leave, we can, but I’m having a good time... and...”

They trailed off, distracted.

The music was much closer than before. It had begun to speed up, increase in volume, resolve on notes even worse than earlier.

Without a word, Max pulled away from my arm and started running towards the music.

“Max! Come back!” I yelled, desperate not to lose them.

I got a hold of my phone and turned on the weak flashlight included with it. It was barely enough to see my own feet, but it was enough to run after them.

The odor of mold mixed with the dry heat, making me cough desperately as my feet pounded against the floor.

And then I spotted them, facing away from me. “What are you doing! We need to stay together!”

Max didn’t answer. They were practically frozen, staring ahead, trembling a little. I turned to see what they were looking at, and...

It was shaped like a human, but it was clearly meant as mockery and not as imitation. Wrinkled and ripped paper served as the skin, like a twisted paper-mache project. The translucence of the water stains showed broken paintbrushes underneath, forming the shape of bones. Colorful rubber bands stretched all around in what I can only assume to be an attempt at muscles. Every body part, recreated in painstaking detail out of the remains of Fiverid art supplies.

It was missing a hand.

But the worst of it was the heart. It was made of neon crayons, crushed and rolled together. Every vein and artery carved in, perfectly done, and glowing nauseatingly. And it was beating, right alongside the music.

The music that I then realized was singing. The mouth of whatever sat in front of us was open, and moving so slightly it could have been an accident. The tongue was made of sopping wet cardboard.

The song dug into my ears, making my head spin. The heat burned me, but there was no discernible source. The stench of mold was so strong it might as well have been coming from me.

“M-Max, w-what-?” I stuttered out.

And then it stood up.

I turned and ran, no longer frozen in my fear. The light from my phone flickered, threatening to go out.

My body retraced our steps from earlier, on instinct. I couldn’t think of anything except the horrible creature from before. The sound of my feet was loud, but not nearly as loud as the beat of my own heart, which almost seemed to have come up through my throat in its rapid pace.

Finally I found the window, glass shards still coating the floor, and climbed out of it as fast as I could. Glass dug into my skin, but I hardly noticed.

I reached the fence and forced my shoes into the holes.

A sleeve caught on the wires, so I paused to detangle it.

That pause was enough to halt my adrenaline.

Blood dripped from my arm; it was soaked into the fabric of my shirt.

I was breathing heavily, my lungs aching.

Cool wind ran through my sweat-soaked hair.

"Max?” I called out.

But there was no response. Just my own voice, echoing pathetically back at me.

I never saw Max again.

We moved to DC about a month later. Then I heard about your Foundation, and, well.

ARCHIVIST

Of course. Thank you very much for coming in to tell your story.

EVELYN

Thanks for having me.

...

Do you believe me?

ARCHIVIST

We'll have to do some follow up, but it certainly sounds within possibility. Would you like us to contact you about our findings?

EVELYN

Yes, please.

ARCHIVIST

Alright. It might be a while since Tulip Hills is so far away, but you'll be one of the first to know whatever we discover.

EVELYN

Thank you so much.

Click.

ARCHIVIST

Regarding follow-up.

At first I was doubtful of the truth of this statement. Evelyn's remembrance of specific details and the fact that the incident seemed not to fit in with any Entities made it seem like more of a creative writing project than anything. So imagine my surprise when the recording failed to digitalize.

I had Avery do some digging, and she actually managed to find a copy of the deed to the factory. The owner is none other than Monty Lukas, the USA's resident patron of The Lonely.

As for the incident itself, it remains frustratingly difficult to categorize. Obviously the creature itself seems to be of The Stranger, but The Dark is very much in play, as well. And there's traces of The Desolation and The Spiral, as well. Perhaps Monty Lukas is doing some unsavory experiments in that factory.

Another thing to look out for, then.

End.

Click. 🕸

#evelyn the archivist #the magnus archives #tma #tma ask blog #ask blog #evelyn marie

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raisans-art · 3 years

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Dream SMP Characters as Physical Art Mediums because I had Literally Nothing Better to do than Think about This.

Tommy: Crayons

Tommy wants to insist that he is a real artist but he couldn't be arsed to put any more effort than necessary. No one will buy him anything but a 12 pack of Crayolas.

Tubbo: Good Crayons.

Tubbo accepts his childish nature and just upgrades himself so that he can be a kid but with style.

Ranboo: Charcoal Pencils

Ranboo just likes working in black and white and the shading aspects that come with charcoal. He uses specifically pencils to keep his hands and, by extension, his suit cleaner than they would be otherwise.

Wilbur: Print

Wilbur enjoys the boldness of prints and the variety of techniques that are needed to make them look genuinely good. Of course, no one ever knows he does print making because the broke bastard doesn't have enough money to buy half of the materials for it. But whatever pictures he has on his flyers and documents were all printed by him.

Philza: Watercolour

Phil works well with the flow of watercolour. He is willing to let the colours do what they need to and work with any mistakes made. It's natural, easy-going, and fun. He doesn't hang up his works, just keeps them stored in bins at his old house.

Dream: Vector Art

Dream needs max control over his art. He needs to know exactly how everything blends, moves, forms, and bends right down to the tiniest point. He aims for perfection and cleanliness in his pieces.

Technoblade: Calligraphy pens

Techno would insist that he doesn't do art, but anyone who receives a letter from him would beg to differ. He's mastered the precision of cursive letters with help from his steady hand. He started because he heard it was good for sword practice from Phil.

George: A blue pencil

George doesn't work with colour and he mainly only does sketches of drifting thoughts. He keeps it simple and loose and finds the satisfaction of capturing an idea or a feeling over rendering pieces.

Sapnap: Woodburning

Sapnap calls it art but it's just an excuse for arson. However, he did begin to gain an appreciation for the artform and got rather good at making signs and pendants.

Niki: Ceramics

Niki started doing ceramics because it was somewhat similar to baking. She mainly does handmade things rather than using a wheel, but she did learn how to use the wheel. She will occasionally make a bowl or cup on it. She does it more often now because firing the kiln warms up the meeting room nicely.

Fundy: Mechanical pencil

Fundy works with whatever is on hand (always just a mechanical pencil) and just goes for it. The rendering depends on how he's feeling that day. He likes the ease of using a mechanical pencil with how cheap it is and how there is virtually no mess involved since he doesn't have to sharpen it.

Eret: Oils

Eret really enjoys making portraits of people on the SMP. He is more than willing to spend weeks on an oil painting and is a stickler for detail and realism.

Foolish: Marble sculpture

Foolish has had centuries to perfect the craft of sculpting and found that marble was the one to yield the best results in the end. He can and will spend months on a single sculpture if it means it'll enhance the mood of one of his builds.

Puffy: Whittling

Puffy never has the time to sit and focus on a craft so she whittles. It started as a stress reliever when it was just a random hunk of wood and her pocket knife but she really grew a knack for carving little trinkets and figures for her to set on her or other's shelves.

Ok peace

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shewritestheblues · 5 years

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Old Thing Back (2)

Erik Killmonger x Reader

Erik runs into his old high school girlfriend and realizes how much love he still has for her.

Please Note: In this series, there was never a fight for the thrown between Erik and T’Challa. It’s all good between them. Erik became a Seal and used his pull to go to Wakanda in the hopes of just finding his family. Together, he and T’Challa founded the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland.

Thanks for the feedback and love. :) excuse any mistakes. enjoy.

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It had been weeks since you ran into Erik… or since he literally ran into you. Good thing you only went running on the weekends. That made it easier to avoid him if you spotted him again. But luckily, you didn’t. You purposely waited until about 9am to go running and you were sure that was why. If he was an early bird, he wouldn’t catch you.

The weekend at come to an end and you were successful yet again at not being run over by your past. You were ready to get back to work to be with your favorite mini humans. You had been a kindergarten teacher for five years and each year, you’d fall in love with your tribe of five year olds like they were your own. This year, your God Daughter, Bella was one of your students. You wouldn’t let Kelly enroll her into any other school. You practically demanded that little Bella be your student.

You had just picked up your daily Chai Tea Latte from the cafe near Kelly’s house and you were arriving at her home to pick Bella up for school. You were running behind. Your class would be taking a field trip today and you took it upon yourself to make lunches for each student.

As you pulled into Kelly’s driveway, she was rushing out the door with Bella, running late herself. She was called into work early this morning.

“Thank you so much for picking her up, girl. I needed this morning shift.” Kelly says, strapping Bella into her carseat.

“Not a problem. Bella is my baby too.” You smile at the toddler. “Ain’t that right baby girl?”

“Yes.” Bella was all smiles.

“Alright.” Kelly sighed. “You will be a good girl today on your trip.”

“I will, mommy.”

Kelly kisses Bella and closes her door. She waves at you and you pull off, going to school.

When you get there, the bus taking your class on their first ever field trip was there waiting. You get Bella and the lunches out of the car and rush over to find your other students and your teaching assistant, Liza getting settled. You do a headcount to make sure everyone is there before the bus heads to its destination.

“I’ve heard so much about this place and what they’ve done over the summer for kids.” your TA states.

“Hmm?” You were zoned out, enjoying your morning drink.

“The Outreach Center.”

“Oh yeah. Me too. When I heard they were opening this Early Child Development Studio, I knew I had to bring our babies to see what it’s about.”

“I wonder if the King of Wakanda will be there today.” Liza sticks her tongue out making you laugh.

“He is fine ain’t he?” you smirk. “I would not mind becoming a Queen for him.”

“Miss Y/N? Are we there yet?” a small voice from behind you asks you. It’s Tyler. He’s one of your busy body students. He doesn’t like sitting in one spot for too long and is always asking a lot of questions.

You smile at him. “Almost Tyler.” You stretch your neck over the driver's seat to get a good look at the road. “We’re a few blocks away.”

And in just a few minutes, the bus turns into a parking lot next to the building. Glowing blue letters sitting above large, glass doors reading, Wakandan Outreach Center.

“Okay boys and girls. We’re here. Is everyone listening?”

“Yes!” they all answer you.

“Great. We're going to be good guests here. We will stay in line and stay together. Today will be a very fun day. If any of you have to use the restroom, come to me or Miss. Liza and we will find the nearest restroom. Are you guys ready?”

“Yes, Miss. Y/N.”

One by one, the kids jumped off the bottom step of the bus. They made a single file line and followed you into the building with Liza behind them, carrying the lunches. You were met with a beautiful, tall woman in red. Her smile was as bright as the sun. Her presence was breathtaking and even the kids noticed her. You and them were in awe of this gorgeous woman.

“Hello, I’m Mia. You must be the kindergarten class that’s supposed to visit the new Studio today?”

“Yes.” you excitedly shake her hand. Which was amazingly smooth and warm. “I’m Y/N. This is Liza and these are our shining stars.” You turn to your students. “Class 104, this Mia.”

“Hi Mia.” their tiny voices rung out, echoing through the lobby.

“Hello Class 104. Nice to meet you all.” Mia turns to you again. “We’re excited to have you today. Unfortunately, our tour guide, Sasha won't be in today but our Director of Youth Development is here and he’s offered to show you guys around today.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Who is--”

Mia looks to her left. “Here he is now. Mr. Stevens.”

Her words shocked you like lightening. But the person she referred to as Mr. Stevens, made your heart sink into the pit of your belly.

“Good Morning.” his deep voice boomed in your ears. The smile on his face was just as bright as Mia’s. He reaches out to take the box of lunches from Liza. “Could you take this to the cafeteria, Mia?”

You took a few deep breaths, calming your nerves. How is this happening? Why is this happening? You look to Liza who is gazing at him. He reaches his hand out to Liza.

“Good morning. I’m Erik.”

She shakes his hand and her bright cheeks begin turning red. “Um, hi. I’m Liza.”

Erik turns to you with a smirk and his hand out. “Y/N.” he states your name so matter factly.

“Hi, Erik.”

Liza looks confused now. How did you two know each other? She thought.

The smile on Erik’s face was contagious and you couldn’t help but to smile too. Your cheeks going against you. Allegedly. You playfully roll your eyes and avoid meeting his eyes. Your eyes meet with one of your students, Jonathan. He bounces his little brows up at you and winks. You bite back the laughter that threatens to come out.

“Class 104, this is…” You turn back to Erik. “Do you prefer Mr. Erik or Mr. Stevens?”

Erik drags his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes trained on you. He's aware of your struggles. “Mr. Erik is fine.”

“Class… Mr. Erik.”

“Hi, Mr. Erik.” your class sings in unison.

“He’s going to be showing us around today. Are you guys and gals excited?”

“Yes!” the cheery five year olds jump and clap.

A small girl from the back of the group makes her way to the front. She introduces herself to Erik.

“Hi, Mr. Erik. I’m Melody. I’m the line leader, so you can just show me where to go and I’ll take it from here.”

She places her small hand into Erik, shocking him. He didn’t know five year olds could be so damn bold. But he smiled at her and decided he’d go along with it. He gives you a knowing look. You shake your head and look over to Liza, who is trying everything in her to hold back her laugh.

Melody snaps at her class. “Get in line. Me and Mr. Erik will lead the way.” Her class follows her demanding instructions. Erik begins walking with Melody down a large hallway. You watch in disbelief at how your young student took charge as the line began walking away from you. You and Liza catch eyes again and this time, snickers escape from the both of you.

“I can’t lie,” Liza began, “Melody has game. I respect it. She just took your man right under your nose.”

“My what!” your words coming out a bit louder than expected. You see Erik peak behind him to you and Liza. The two of you were trailing the line of jumping kids.

Liza cuts her eyes at you. “You can play stupid with these babies but you can’t play stupid with me Y/N. I peeped how y’all were looking at each other. All cheesy and shit.” Liza swayed her body adding emphasis on her words.

“That’s a bad word, Miss Liza.” Tyler barked.

“My apologies, Tyler.”

You and Liza bite back more laughter.

-----------------------

Erik leads the class to two large doors with glowing blue lights and Wakandan symbols engraved on them. Early Childhood Development Studio. When Erik opened the doors, it was like a kindergarten teacher's dream classroom. It was neat with a modern decor style but still colorful to draw in a child's attention. The ceiling mimicked a dome with animated visuals playing on the tiles. Rows of white tables with small stability ball chairs. Each table paired with a collection of Crayola Crayons, Markers, Pencils and Erasers. In front of each seat, sat an iPad full of learning apps. To the right of the room, there’s a dry erase board and learning posters. To the left, shelves and shelves of children's books, neatly placed toys--Including a play kitchen, salon, tool boxes. There was an open space covered with a mat that would glow with the same blue color that was on the entry doors.

You and Liza were intrigued to say the least. Your students were in aw as well and being very vocal about it. Erik was pleased to see everyone approving of his design.

“As you can see here,” Erik began explaining, “each student would have their own iPad to stay up to date with the new learning apps that we are developing. We have plenty of utensils here for drawing and expression. The dome is designed for the children to gain an understanding of how the sky and the galaxy works.” he takes a step back to grab an iPad. He taps a few buttons and suddenly the room is darkened and stars and planets paint the ceiling. It’s so realistic that even you, for a second, thought that you were just casted into space. The children voiced their ohs and aws.

“Wow.” you mouthed, looking around you watching a meteorite pass by you.

Erik taps the iPad again and the ceiling goes back to normal. He walks over to the glowing mat, tapping on it and holographic visuals of a young woman with braids pop up. She jumps with joy.

“Hey Shuri, meet Class 104.”

“Hello class.” Shuri waves. The students are bouncing with excitement and wave back to Shuri.

“We have an experiment set up for you.” He tells the class. “Are you ready?”

“YES!” their screams bounce off the walls.

“They’re ready, Shuri.”

“Alright you little geniuses. Have you ever seen a volcano erupt?” Shuri asks as she walks over to a table.

You and Liza are completely mute. You couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing. Is this real? Like live footage?

Shuri pours a liquid into the top of the volcano and it explodes a lava colored foam.

“Oh my gosh!” one kid yells out.

“My mama won’t believe this.” another says.

Erik laughs at the joyful reactions.

“There’s more where that came from when you guys come and see me later.” Shuri smiles.

“Thanks Shuri. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to come down.” Erik says.

She gives him a thumbs up and Erik taps the mat again and the hologram disappears.

“Erik!” you were stunned. “That was live?”

“Yes. We use holograms to do most of our communication. The mat is designed with vibranium, so it can’t be destroyed and we can use it for science experiments, communication, building blocks… I could go on but I’d rather show you over time.”

“Wow. This is perfect. More kids that come here and we’ll have hella little scientists running around Oakland.” Liza says.

“Why don’t we get them started.” Erik leads the children to the tables. Each of them picking a seat and tapping on the iPads. Erik gets each of them set up with a different app to explore their little brains.

You and Liza help with the set up and before you knew it, each student was in their own little world learning and actually enjoying it. You and Liza were probably enjoying the Studio more than the children.

------------

To reward your shining stars for being the amazing little learners they were, you and Liza figured that they should have some play time. This would be good for them to use up the rest of their energy before lunch, as well as give you and Liza a break.

As the children played with all of the high tech toys, Liza couldn’t help but to notice the set of eyes trained on you. She hid a knowing smile behind her water bottle as she pretended to take a sip and pretending even harder at listening to whatever you were talking about.

“Mhmm.” is all Liza offered to you.

Liza always has commentary to whatever topic you were babbling about so the lack there of caught your attention.

“Liza, are you listening to me?” you snapped with a bit of attitude.

Her eyes meet yours. “I’m not understanding how you are able to listen to you right now.”

“Excuse me?”

Liza scrunches her nose up. “You don’t sense the demon eyes glaring at you from across the room? Melody may have Mr. Erik,” she adds emphasis to his name, “wrapped around her little finger, but that man has been hawking you since we got here.”

You scoff. “No he hasn’t.” You look up and lock eyes with Erik. He’s sitting on the floor with Melody playing in his dreads like she’s his hairstylist. Just before you could react, Bella approaches you.

“God Mommy… I’m hungry.” she whines.

Saved by the Bella.

You look at your Apple Watch noticing that it’s just passed 11a.m. Lunch Time!

“Okay, baby girl. It’s lunch time anyways.”

Bella waste no time turning back to her fellow classmates and yells, “IT’S LUNCH TIME!”

The children go up on roars. It was adorable how thrilled they were about food. That’s something you could relate to on a soul level. The students line up with joy in their eyes. Erik walks toward you and Liza. Your heart begins picking up its pace.

“Hey. So, I figured we could squeeze some time in to visit our labs after lunch before y’all have to go. That’s cool?” he asked mainly you.

You simply nodded your head. You snapped your neck at Liza when you heard her snickering. Of course Erik noticed and he gave you a very toothy smile. His dimples were on full display and you did the only thing you thought you could… run!

“Alright 104,” you step around Erik and Liza. “Mr. Erik here is going to take us to the cafeteria.”

Bella takes your hand into hers. She looks up at Erik. “Hurry Mr. Erik. I’m dying.”

“Let’s go.” he leads you, Liza and the class to the enormace cafeteria. You were impressed. It was like a mini airport in there. Multiple food options. You immediately set your mind on Stir Fry. Liza’s eyes were glued to the pizza.

Mia met all of you with the class’s lunches. As the children got settled in their seats. you and Liza handed out each lunch and watched as they dug in. You and Liza sat at the end of the table to keep a good eye on the kids. As you began eating your food, a large presence approached behind you. You hear a clearing of a throat. You look up and see Erik with sly smirk painted on his lips. His hands were behind his back.

“Do you ladies mind if I join you?” he asks.

“Nope. Y/N doesn’t mind at all if you join her.” she winks at you. She doesn’t care that you were shooting daggers at her. “My baby-loves need me anyway.”

She rises from her seat next to you and she joins the class. Erik takes ownshipship of her chair.

“I have something for you.” In his hands held a box of brand new AirPods.

“Erik… You really didn’t have to do that.”

Ignoring your protest. “I was expecting to give them to you weeks ago but I guess I scared you away from the park.”

The disappointment in his eyes made you feel bad. “Thank you…”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

“No--No. It’s just… you have to admit, it was kinda weird. Ya’ know, with the way things were the last time we saw each other.” You found the courage to look in his eyes again. Guilt. Regret. “You were the last person I thought I’d see. A lot of feelings that I thought were dead, surfaced and I--.”

“I understand.” he bit the side of his cheek. He felt the awkwardness between you two when he ran into you. He couldn’t deny it if he wanted to.

“But, the universe has a funny way of doing things.” you added.

“Yeah… I’ve always lived with that regret though. I wish I would’ve said something. Ran after you. I don’t know.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Where did you go?” you finally spoke up.

“College... Naval Academy and MIT.”

“Damn, Erik. I knew you were smart but I didn’t know you were that smart to just go to college at 16.”

A low chuckle escapes his mouth. “Yeah, “he continued, “When I became a SEAL, I got curious. I knew I had family in Africa so I decided to go find them. When I got to the Wakanda… they uh, they accepted me with open arms. My uncle--”

“Wait, wait.” you interjected. “You’re Wakandan?”

“Yeah.” a sly smile crept onto his face. “T’Challa is my cousin.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Your shock took over you. You had forgotten where you were and who you were with.

“Ohhhh, Ms. Y/N. That’s a bad word.” one of your students yelled out, bringing you back to reality.

You slap your hand over your mouth. “I am so sorry. I will not say it again. I promise.”

“You have to go in the time out chair, Ms. Y/N.”

You felt foolish for not keeping it together in front of your students. “I’m sorry guys, okay? Forgive me.”

Bella approached you. “I forgive you God Mommy.”

You rub her big puff on top of her head. “Thank You, Bella.”

“God Mommy?” Erik looks between the two of you.

“Yes. This is my GodDaughter who is also my student. This is Kelly’s daughter.”

“Kelly! Big mouth Kelly?”

“My mommy doesn’t have a big mouth.” Bella gathered Erik very nicely.

Erik throws his hands up in surrender. “My bad Miss Bella. She doesn't. I’m sorry.”

You send Bella back to sit with her class. You and Erik play catch up until lunch time was over. He took all of you to Shuri’s lab. Shuri showed the kids some of her gadgets. Before you knew it, it was time for you to load your class up on the school bus and take them back to school for them to be released to their parents. Strangely, you weren’t ready for the trip to be over. You internally told yourself that it wasn’t because of Erik but Liza made sure to constantly remind you that Erik was definitely the reason. You felt butterflies every time your eyes met his. It was like no time had been missed between you two. Yes, there was still an elephant in the room between you but this felt nice and if you had to be honest, that could wait. You liked the way he was making you feel.

You were doing your head count when Erik made his presence known just outside of the buses doors. You kindly asked Liza to make sure all of your students were counted for and you stepped off to talk to Erik… again.

He laid down a fly away from your bun. That took you by surprise.

“It was nice seeing you, Y/N. For real this time.”

“Same. I’m glad we were able to talk and things not be, ya’ know, weird.”

They exchange smiles before Erik spoke again.

“I know I’m shooting for the moon right now but I don’t want to miss this moment.”

You waited for him to continue.

“But um, I would like to link up with you again. Minus the work and students.”

He immediately noticed the look of uncertainty forming over your features. He was definitely shooting for the moon, you thought.

“I don’t know, Erik.”

“Hear me out. It’ll be just two old friends catching up and plus… I want to formally apologize for some things.” He slipped a folded piece of paper into your hands, making sure to allow his fingers to linger over yours. He looked you dead in the eye. “You don’t have to figure it out now. Just promise me that you’ll at least think about it, okay?”

A nod was all that you could produce as a reply.

He leaves you with a wink.

When you joined your class on the bus, Liza made kissy faces at you. You blew her off. Unfolding the paper revealed Erik’s phone number. You would think about it. It was the least you could do.

---------

You were arriving at Kelly’s to drop your God daughter off to her. Bella was great on her first field trip and you wanted to tell Kelly all about her growing little genius.

You relaxed back onto her couch, cuddling up with Bella. Kelly joined you two, thrilled to hear about their adventure. You went on and on about the Children’s studio, the amazing food and science labs. Kelly loved the futuristic things you were telling her. She wanted so badly to take a personal trip to the Outreach Center just for herself. She was a science lover and that was right up her alley.

“Oh my goodness, Bella baby. It sounds like you had so much fun today.” Kelly doted on her young daughter.

“I did, mommy. I even got to meet God Mommy’s boyfriend.”

Your head snapped to look at Bella like she had six heads.

“Her what!”

“Yeah. Mr. Erik.”

“Bella!”

“Mr. Erik huh?” Kelly looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Tell me more Bella.”

“He was nice. He let me and Melody do his hair. He took us all around and showed us a volcano.”

“That’s nice baby, but tell me. How do you know Mr. Erik is God Mommy’s boyfriend?”

“You’re going to listen to a five year old, Kelly?” you question.

“Hush up! Let the child talk.”

“Well,” Bella throws her hands up. “They were looking at each other like this.” She dramatically blinks her eyes and smiles really big.

You cover your face with your hands. You couldn’t believe your god daughter was throwing you under the bus like this. It really be your own people.

“Bella, why don’t you go change out of your school clothes and let me God Mommy talk.”

Bella runs upstairs to her room. You peak between your fingers to see if Kelly was looking at you. Of course she was with a devious smirk, waiting for you to spill the tea.

“Spill it bitch and don’t leave nothing out.”

You sit still in the hopes that you’ll disappear and she won’t press the issue anymore. But no luck. You were still very visible and your best friend was extremely patient. You pull yourself up on the couch.

“Fuck it. There’s no way out of this.” you say to yourself. “Mr. Erik is Erik Stevens.”

Kelly’s eyes damn near pops out of her head. “Erik fucking Stevens? You are lying to me.”

#Erik Stevens x black!reader #erik stevens x reader #Erik killmonger x Reader #Erik Killmonger #black panther fic #shaebewriting

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2021ssajka · 4 years

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IVY PANGILINAN

https://www.ivypangilinan.com/

i have been following Ivy Pangilinan’s work for a while now. She lives in the Philippines and maybe that is why I gravitate to her work.

I usually am very critical in abstract work like this. Often times it becomes too cloudy, gray, dirty and aggressive. colors often mix too much in abstract work resulting in grayish color that I do not enjoy.

In Pangilinan’s work, there is a right balance of “muddyness”. Her pencil marks reminds of me of the graffiti works in Metro Manila walls. The layering of her colors reminds me of peeled poster flyers all around the city. There is a right amount of swampy greyish green color when she mixes her color that reminds me of the stained Metro Manila walls due to the polluted busy streets (especially in EDSA highway) especially in the rainy seasons of June-September when these streets flood.

There is something that attracts me to her work. It’s possible we have similar upbringings living in the Philippines. There is a nostalgic feeling in her work for me. It feels familiar and warm. I also like her use of noise and gritty texture in her photographs which is also present in the Philippine architecture that gives the nostalgic feeling in her work. I also like how she incorporates her worn handwriting in her work. It feels more personal as if these are her journal entries. I enjoy this as a graphic designer as well and a person who journals a lot. I have always wanted to incorporate my handwriting in my work too.

There is a youthful energy in her work, that could be mistaken to be made by a young child filling in blobs of colors and scribbling in pencil.

This youthful energy can also address the filipino traits that we are known for. Filipinos are hospitable, polite, and always happy even through the tough times- and this is applies to my family as well, thats probably why I am always bubbly. This also shows in my work are we have somewhat similar color choices of bright and saturated hues.

Growing up in the tropical country of the Philippines, I always associated it as this bright and sunny place even if we do have monsoons and hurricanes during the rainy season. Maybe this is because I have so many good memories there that I mostly only remember the good times.

I have always mentioned that I see through a “yellow filter” because my memories of the Philippines are always bright and sunny even though we have a rainy season for almost half of the year when most of the country floods and many people are affected. I think it is a super power of the Filipinos to be able to get right back up right away, because these floods never really crushes that Filipino spirit, they are always ready to get all the pieces back together and get right back on with life- proving that they are very optimistic

I still have this “yellow filter” today, no literally. I wear glasses and i have this blue light filter applied on it, and its literally just a yellow filter on my glasses.

I had a big family in the Philippines. I literally grew up with my cousins and aunts/uncles right next door, and I always remember having the most fun childhood because I get to play with my cousins every single day. my favorite memory of us is when we would color/journal together (but also play house, pretend cooking, and play with dolls) thats probably why I enjoy paintings to much, because it has always reminded me of the good times with my cousins, and now that I am away from them, this a way where I could relive that moment and feel good alone.

I think Ivy Pangilinan’s (and Heather Days) work pushed me to explore pastels, crayons and other materials because it opens that childhood memories of mine. That is the main reason why I love pastels because it is the adult version of crayons.

when did we stop being able to play with these materials or toys? how come we need an adult version of things we enjoyed as a child?

Art materials are not something accessible to everyone in the Philippines. The materials there are so expensive that it is very impractical to keep art making as a hobby. I remember when I was young, My mom or aunt surprised me with a 48 crayon box when I passed an entrance exam in a Catholic school near us. I remember loving that box and filling in coloring books whenever I had the chance.

As I grew up, I remember my cousins always having a variety of colors in their collection. I would always borrow their cool shades when we would play, one time I remember stealing this “lemon yellow” shade of light yellow with a hint of green because I loved that color so much. I'm not sure if I eventually gave it back, maybe not (lol).

It was not till my mom moved to America to find a job, when she would always send us “balikbayan box” filled with all sorts of stuff she bought for us from here. I remember she got me a Crayola box with 140 colors and I protected that with my whole life. I loved it so much because it had neon, and glitter crayons and none of my cousins had that and they would borrow from me instead. That's when my fascination with colors began.

It is my goal to be a successful artist, and I will go back to the Philippines and provide art supplies to the children in need.

--------------- I also relate to Ivy’s connection with intuitive painting. The Philippines is a Religious Catholic country (influenced by the Spanyards when they colonized us for 300 years). We are taught to believe in something we could not see. It is very internal and spiritual. At a very young age I was told to listen to my conscience because this is God speaking to me. So I am very connected to my inner dialogue, and this is how I navigate through my emotions- and this applies to my art making as well.

Art is a very spiritual act for me. This does not only serve as a vehicle for expression but also a space to practice my faith. I am not a religious person and I am currently trying to unlearn the Catholic practices I was taught when I was young (going to a Catholic school), and I am now in a journey of finding my own idea of who God is, and one way I explore that is through art, writing and mediating.

I yearn for peace when I am creating art, and it is the calm, silence and the intimacy where I find God present. He is present when I feel content.

------

I also like how she shows her process. I gravitate towards her window because I remember my sister having one just like that when she had her room in the attic. I would always look at that window and peep at what's happening outside.

Seeing her process makes me think of what could have happened if I stayed in the Philippines. I have a feeling that I may not be able to pursue art and do something “practical” instead. Art really won’t be enough for me to have a financially stable career. Pursuing art there is a privilege, only for people who has the means and could afford the materials. It was never really a real option for me in the past, even though my mom supported me in my talents. It was only when I moved to America when I truly had a chance to pursue my passion.

I have this fantasy of having a studio in the Philippines and eventually retire there. We have a terrace in the front of our ancestral home and I have always imagined myself working outdoors and having a mini garden there. I would love to go travel around the Philippines and apply those sceneries and new memories in my work.

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thelittlestcheshire · 4 years

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Self Para 005: The Reminders Pull the Floor From Your Feet

Note: For starters, this takes place on Saturday. This involves the Leo plot, and for the most part it’s... lots of Ches’s thought process leading up to her visiting Leo. Any interactions with people are lead up / not really... the majority. So please, tread carefully. I was careful to avoid going too deep into her more... brutal thought processes in hopes of ensuring it’s not too triggering but given the context I do feel a need to mention it. I do discuss her finding her brother after his attempt a little bit too, so, please pay heed to the tws and if you think it may be an issue, I strongly urge you skip this self para. I love you guys, and your safety is the biggest priority always <3

TWs: Suicide / Suicide Attempts, Decapitation / Murder (mentioned in a comment about how displeased Leo will be to see her), Hanging, Amputation, Ches’s thought process while shopping does include her making considerations about what she can buy Leo can’t hurt himself with so I don’t know how to tag that but I am aware it could be triggering.

For once, Ches didn’t know how she was expected to react, but she was sure it didn’t align with how she currently felt as she tore through her wardrobe to try to find something to wear. What even was appropriate to wear today? Colors were too cheery, white too saintly, black was a staple in her wardrobe and entirely off the table. Everything in her closet was practically getting thrown without care as she desperately tried to find anything. Even as her front door opens, she doesn’t glance to see who was coming in until she hears Balo squeak as she tries to avoid yet another thrown object.

“Sorry! I just was wondering if I could maybe borrow a pair of shorts?” The blonde squeals and the redhead pauses her frantic search for something appropriate to wear. Was Balo really trying to carry on like normal when her friend was in the hospital after trying to kill himself? Sure, people were saying it was an accident, but that didn’t mean it was.

Emmett had told everyone it was an accident after his attempt, a prank gone wrong, that she had to cut him down from the ceiling after. And at this point, she simply didn’t believe in accidents.

“Of course, they’re in the dresser. Let me know if there’s something worth wearing to the hospital in there while you’re at it.” She glances away from what she was doing to wave her friend toward where the dresser was. She would have to rearrange the room to the way she liked it eventually, but she hadn’t exactly been happy about much of anything since they arrived in New Zealand.

“Is going to see Leo a good idea?”

Balo’s question throws her off, as it was one she had been asking herself over and over again. She still didn’t know the answer herself, and she just turns away from her friend to go back through her closet, tossing yet more things in the direction of her bed as she fails to find something worth wearing. “This is my fault. I have to go.” She finally speaks as she tosses the last item of clothing in the closet onto the floor. “If I had done more....”

“It was an accident, remember? Just breathe, okay? You dress like you usually would. Maybe ask if I’m allowed to visit if you think he’s up to it?” She shakes her head, grabbing the shorts she came for from the drawer before she tosses a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top her way. Ches catches it, grateful for the answer so she could move onto the next method to tear herself apart with. “Just promise me you’ll be gentle with him. He’s going through a lot.”

“I’m not going to be mean. I figured he might like some comfy clothes and stuff. If someone else already thought of it, great, but...” She glances at her shoe rack as she talks. Maybe she should wear sneakers instead of heels for once, it’d make her look shorter and left her feeling more vulnerable, but perhaps it’d ease his fears of her just showing up. She doubted she was the first person he wanted to see; in fact, she was likely the very last, perhaps Balo was right, and this was a horrible idea.

But she needed to do this. How else was she going to live with the guilt?

“Well, if you need to talk later, come find me. I’ve gotta go, but I love you.”

“I love you too.” And with those words, Ches was alone with her thoughts again. She takes a deep breath as she walks over to her dresser to set the clothes she was going to wear down. Stepping over multiple piles of discarded clothes carefully as she realizes just how much money she’d just carelessly thrown to the floor as if it didn’t matter. Perhaps, in the long run, it didn’t. Still, she kneels down and starts to sort through the discarded clothes on the floor, slowly beginning to put everything back onto hangers. How was she supposed to make intentions clear from the moment he saw her?

Maybe the gifts would help, but she was just going to have to accept that whatever she did, Leo was likely to be hostile. Emmett was after his attempt, and he liked her. Ches was entirely unwelcome, and she knew that, but she supposed that was well deserved. If the roles were reversed, she would have made Leo’s visit a living hell for daring to breathe near her after a failed attempt. He had every right to do the same to her now. She carefully puts the last dress back where it belongs, going through the motions of getting dressed and making herself presentable, throwing her hair up in a ponytail, grabbing her bag, and just leaving the dorms.

She would have to go to the store and try to find things Leo would be allowed to have. She was already starting a shopping list of things in her head, things he’d need, things he’d like.

-------------------

Could she trust Leo with colored pencils, or was she going to have to stick with crayons? As Ches looks over the shelf of Crayola products, she ponders it for a few moments before she grabs both the washable crayons and the twistable colored pencils, glancing around before she tosses the bath crayons in too. She always got her worst thoughts in the shower. Maybe giving him a creative outlet he could take with him would be beneficial. On second thought, she tosses a box in for herself too. Her roommate was simply going to have to fucking deal with it.

The notebook had to have no wires, nothing he could pull off of it and cause harm. Any bags needed to be paper so he’d be allowed to have them. The slippers had to be sturdy yet stringless. She’d broken into his room in an attempt to figure out sizes, so she was hoping she was doing well on the clothing. She didn’t want to bring anything of his, not only because it’d require her to be honest that she had broken into his bedroom, but because she already knew how easily things got lost. The last thing she needed was to grab something that mattered and something happening to it. That was a problem she had no intention of being blamed for.

What else could be needed? Pre-paid call cards just in case what she’d read was wrong, and he wasn’t allowed to have his cell phone. If he did, she supposed it never hurt to have prepaid international calling cards either way.

He liked pen and ink, not paint, right?

For a moment, she tries to remember the art of his she had seen, none of it had been paintings, but maybe that was just simply because he couldn’t carry it around. She could ask, offer to make a second trip. She tosses comfy clothes into the cart as she goes, trying to find the most comfortable stringless things she could find, socks and underwear, because people probably weren’t thinking of it when they grabbed stuff. Toothbrush, he definitely needed a toothbrush. And inpatient units were usually cold, so a massive plush blanket probably help. He probably would be allowed to have zippers. Shit, what was his jeans size? Maybe Elizabeth would know, although was it a good idea to bother her at work with how busy she was. She glances at the racks for a minute, considering it for a moment.

Stuffed animals were usually taken in her experience, but if she could prove he wouldn’t hurt himself with it, maybe getting him something he was allowed to punch would be nice. After all, he did seem to enjoy his fights. Was Winnie the Pooh punchable? Balo was onto something when she said Leo looked like Christopher Robin. And he was a baby toy, so if Leo got him apart and found a way to hurt himself with it, it would be a feat. Still, she considers it a moment longer and puts an elephant in the cart instead.

She could always come back for it later if he’d appreciate the joke. What else would he like? Would the ward he was on allow her to drop by and grab him fast food? She probably could find a McDonalds’.

She takes a deep breath, already trying to find the number to find out. Hopefully, they’d allow outside food and drink. After all, what made someone’s day brighter than cheap junk food?

-------------------

[To Momma Everett 😍😍:] I’m dropping by to see Leo, so I’m gonna put my phone on vibrate to avoid him ripping my head off, but I love you so so so so so much, and please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I’ve got everything handled here, I promise. I’m going to tell the front desk I’m your daughter, so that should get me in long enough to drop him off clothes and stuff. Hopefully, he won’t correct them? 🤞

Ches puts her phone into her purse after she’s done, tossing the bag over her shoulder before she goes around to the trunk of her rental to grab the stuff. It felt like it wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t as if she could bring him nearly as much as she wanted to, just essentials and a few small things in hopes of making him smile. She goes to the hospital’s front desk, explaining why she was here and that she had no idea where she was supposed to be going. As they led her in the direction of where he was, she tries to take deep breaths. Leo was going to kill her for this, wasn’t he? Maybe she should have dropped by to steal a kiss from Elliot before she left before he literally ripped her skull from her body.

Of course, nothing could have prepared her for what was to come after she got on the unit. She hands over the stuff to the nurse’s station for them to check over, insisting it’d be better if she waited to go in to see him until she had it back, and for a brief moment, she sees Leo, and everything comes crashing down. Where had his arm gone? Why hadn’t anyone told her?

“Your brother didn’t tell you.” The nurse guesses, and she glances over to the man and the art supplies she’d brought. Was it a dick move? Perhaps, but she wasn’t going to let anyone even dare suggest he couldn’t do art. It was only a matter of adjusting how he approached it, and suddenly she didn’t care if she had to import a physical therapist willing to try to help him. If anyone tried to tell Leo he wasn’t doing something, they would have to fight her.

“No, but that’s okay. He can still whomp me for bringing him children’s bath crayons after he gets home. He’ll be fine.”

If the nurse says anything else, she doesn’t listen. She just quietly waits for him to sticker the stuff and hand it back to her before she enters to see Leo, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she hopes that for once, maybe she wouldn’t say the wrong thing to him.

#suicide tw #suicide attempt tw #murder tw #hanging tw #amputation tw #oscar the grouch ( leo )#a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you ( self paras )#all of my heroes died all alone ( musings )

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themostrandomfandom · 5 years

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why do you think brittany writes in crayon?

Hey, @stanjyrus!

So the cynical, out-of-universe, fuck-RIB answer is that Brittany writes in crayon because TPTB at Glee want to depict her as being childish.

Note that in S1 and S2, while Brittany is occasionally shown to doodle in crayon, when she writes, she is most often shown using her beloved (and age-appropriate) Koosh Ball gel pens.

The one instance in which she writes using crayons on a major assignment is on her “heart attacks” report from episode 2x03, and in that instance, her doing so can be explained by the fact that her report includes artwork (and using crayons to draw pictures makes sense). She is otherwise shown using typical writing utensils for her schoolwork.

This choice in writing tools tracks with her general S1/S2 depiction: i.e., as a ditz but at least an average teenage ditz who could plausibly exist (and function) in a mainstream high school classroom.

Only in S3 and especially S4, when the writers lean hard into the “Brittany is infantile” party line, does the crayon writing become a standard, repeated joke. The downgrade from Koosh pens to crayons tracks with the general degradation of Brittany’s character during this period.

As for within the universe of the show, one very simple and viable explanation for Brittany writing in crayon is personal preference: i.e., crayon is a brighter and more colorful medium than pencil or (standard) pen and is therefore an attractive medium for someone as creative and whimsical as she.

However, a more complicated (and psychoanalytical) explanation also potentially exists, and it ties into the argument I make in this post: namely, that over the course of her high school education, Brittany’s teachers, counselors, and coaches alternately ignore and disparage her when she struggles in her classes, and the fact that they do so prompts her to “act out academically.”

Though it would be in Brittany’s best interest to ask for help directly, she doesn’t, largely because she has been made to feel unwelcome to do so. Rather than approach Will, Sue, Mrs. Hagberg, Emma, etc., all of whom have, in their own ways, made it clear that they consider Brittany stupid and/or obnoxious, and therefore unworthy of being taken seriously, Brittany puts up a façade, pretending that she’s too aloof to care about her schoolwork. She lives down to their low expectations for her because doing so allows her at least a modicum of control in a situation where she otherwise has none.

If we accept this model, then we can perhaps view writing her assignments in crayon as a symptom of Brittany’s scholastic desperation.

Essentially, Brittany feels like she’s going to fail her assignments no matter what she does or how hard she tries not to, because her teachers have proven to her, class after class, year after year, that they are unwilling to deal with her and/or give her a fair shake. She therefore decides (either consciously or subconsciously) that if she’s going to fail regardless, she is at least going to choose the mechanism by which she does so—and somehow it hurts less to fail because she writes her assignments in crayon than it does to fail because her teachers think that her ideas are stupid/wrong.

Remember that math test Sue whips out in episode 4x02? The one that Brittany draws “Happyville: the Town Where Math Was Never Invented” on?

Notice that Brittany doesn’t even bother to write down answers on that test.

Maybe she doesn’t write down answers because she’s using the crayon drawings as a defense mechanism.

If her teacher is just going to pick her apart anyway, why bother to put in any sort of real effort? The faculty all view her as an imbecile, so she’s going to give them what they expect. She’s not going to make herself vulnerable by expending her actual brainpower to come up with an answer that they’re just going to (arbitrarily) strike out because she’s her.

I would wager that as a yet undiscovered math genius, Brittany probably finds it difficult to “show her work” in the way that high school teachers typically require. She probably just “knows what she knows” intuitively/instinctively, and since she can’t write down the answer without showing her work, lest she be accused of cheating on the exam, she opts not to write anything at all. Things are just easier that way.

As I talk about in this Brittanalysis, Brittany may also be “crying for help” with the crayon drawing, hoping against hope that maybe someday, some teacher (possessed of both a brain and a heart) will realize that any twelfth grader who’s drawing stick figures in crayon on their math midterm probably needs help and actually pull her aside to ask her, in a genuine way, how they can be of assistance.

She’s too scared to ask for what she needs directly, so she hints at it—with Crayola cartoons—instead.

Unfortunately for Brittany, the only person who does seem to notice and/or care about the crayon drawings is Sue, who only cares insofar as this increasingly erratic behavior is having a bad influence on the younger Cheerios, and so summarily kicks Brittany off the squad.

Admittedly, a hole in this theory is that Brittany does seem to continue using crayon to write long after she has left both WMHS and MIT, even into S6, where we see her working on the Euler Brick problem using a rather impressive Crayola collection.

However, we can perhaps explain this usage by means of our simpler explanation from above: i.e., by this point in her life, now that Brittany is no longer beholden to academic rules and is just doing math for fun because she’s good at it, she uses the crayons because they’re colorful and pretty and because they make her calculations pop on the page.

Also, she may use crayons because she is potentially numerically synesthestic, as a few math geniuses, including famous nonnormative thinker Daniel Tammet, are. Note that in her Euler equations, she alternates colors, perhaps indicating that different calculations are chromatically different in her mind. (“The square root of four is rainbows,” anyone?)

Anyway, that’s what I’ve got!

Thanks for the question!

#Crazy Brittanalyst answers #stanjyrus #Brittanalyzing #I just want queue

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repost-this-image · 4 years

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Review: Faber-Castell Watercolor Pencils Starter Kit

If you were lucky enough to have art class in elementary school, you probably hated using the cheap Crayola watercolors. They made a huge mess, the paints themselves tended to end up pretty brown and muddy after a couple months, and you never really got explicitly taught any techniques other than wax-resist with crayons. All I ever managed to make in class were a bunch of blobs of color in the vague shape I wanted, and the colors all ran together because you had to do the whole painting in one class period. I...was not impressed by watercolors at all.

I bought myself some watercolor pencils (which I still use on occasion) because I’d heard that they don’t break as often as ordinary colored pencils, and I flat-out hated the RoseArts we had in the house that seemed to break if you so much as looked at them funny, then broke again while you were sharpening them.

That’s right. I bought watercolor pencils to use as ordinary colored pencils. The horror.

So. 16 years after I bought that first set, I noticed something on sale at the craft store. (JAF just finished having their annual mega-sale, which is always a good excuse to buy things you’ve wanted for several months but were just a teensy bit out of your usual price range.)

Guys, gals, and NB pals, let me introduce you to the Faber-Castell watercolor pencils starter kit. Original price: US$20 (I got it for $15).

So what do you get for $20? A pretty decent starter kit, as it turns out. Everything is attached to a piece of cardboard that slides out smoothly. The pencils are on the front, in a resealable plastic packet, no less:

And on the back are two plastic pouches, one of which contains a cheap pencil sharpener and an equally-cheap brush so you can get started right away. (After all, if you turn out to hate working with watercolor pencils and chuck the whole set, would you rather throw out a good artist’s brush, or a 50¢ cheapo brush?)

The other pouch is where you’re really getting your money’s worth, though.

The kit includes about 20 little sheets of watercolor paper (which ain’t cheap), 3 of which have nice little grids.

And of course, there’s the little booklet.

As you can see from the table of contents, the booklet is in English, French, and Spanish, and has instructions on how to do some basic techniques for people like me who are fairly clueless about watercolor in general. (A freebie: Do not dip watercolor pencils into your paint water. Ever. Don’t do it.)

There’s even a section with tips for making clouds, grass, stone, and flowers for landscapes, which is quite helpful for giving you ideas about texture for other parts of your drawings, too (which I had no idea you could do with just watercolor).

And yes, they go step-by-step through that lovely photorealistic drawing of cupcakes on the cover, although you’re probably not gonna get photorealism unless you’re VERY good at drawing already, because you have to do a detailed pencil drawing first. Still nice as a proof-of-concept.

Overall, I give it a 9/10. You get a decent amount of stuff for the price, and while the brush is an icky cheap one, it’s enough to help you decide if you want to keep going and get a nicer artist’s brush that lasts longer. The booklet explains enough techniques to give you a nice little set of skills at the end of it, and encourages you to make your own color references with the grid sheets. All in all, I’m glad I bought it.

#review #art supplies #watercolor pencils

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bananonymity · 6 years

Text

(part 1)

“Are there any other options?” said Emil. “That aren’t a four-hour course?”

Ludwig, ever patient on the outside and ever frustrated and ready to throw his keyboard out his office window on the inside, went back to the drawing board of available courses.

“Studio art has some openings this semester,” said Ludwig. Emil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s fine, it’s geared towards beginners. And you ar en’t expected to make museum-worthy masterpieces in there. It’s to study both the creation and the criticism of modern art.”

“I don’t know much about modern art,” admitted Emil. He admitted to a liking towards minimalism, which brought great astonishment and exasperation from his roommate Leon, who upon seeing Emil’s decor of his side of the dorm genuinely worried that Emil was tight on money and therefore lacking in any possession. But a college course on it, especially as a first year student, inevitably felt daunting.

“That’s all right,” Ludwig said. “After you go through Professor Bonnefoy, you will understand it, whether you like it or not.”

“Now tell me, class,” Francis Bonnefoy said. His voice was as silky as the freshly squeezed oil paints on the palette. “What do you gather from this piece?”

On the projector, which Professor Bonnefoy spent a good five minutes cursing at in the beginning of class trying to make it work, was a Cy Twombly piece, The Italians, MoMA, 1961. Francis stood at the head of the room, smiling at his class with anticipation while the students stared silently ahead.

Michelle knew that this was an important piece of work. By the way that Francis’s chest puffed the moment he brought the photo up, she could assume that he was very fond of this piece. It was in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. It also looked like what would result if one gave a child a 96-crayon Crayola box and a white wall.

“Anyone?” said Francis.

No one said a word. One student was constantly taking off their glasses, polishing the lenses, and returning it to their lens as if he genuinely thought that the scribbles were a speck of dust on his specs. Another student buried their face in their hands. The student next to Michelle burst into tears.

Francis immediately blossomed as if the student’s tears of terror watered him into fruition.

“It is a moving piece,” he said. “No--a powerful piece. You feel it, don’t you, Raivis?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Raivis whispered through his tears.

“What is it that Twombly is trying to express in this masterpiece?” Francis said, plowing through Raivis’ grief. “What is it that he is trying to communicate? Modern artists do not aim to make beauty--that is the philosophy of the old world. The old age of art, who think that one must have some technical skill in order to be an artist.”

“They weren’t wrong,” someone muttered.

“Twombly did not want to impress,” said Francis. “He wanted to communicate. He was a cryptologist in the military before he became an artist. He communicated through code, through mathematics, through complexity--”

He slammed his hand against the projector in a fit of passion.

“What is it, in this piece, that you can pick up?” said Francis. “What symbols do you pick up, that mean more than they say? Michelle!”

Michelle jumped in her seat. Why, oh why, couldn’t he have randomly called on her during the Duchamp example? At least she could recognize that the art piece in question was a urinal.

“What,” Francis said, “do you see? What message is being conveyed?”

“Um.” Michelle squinted at the painting. She did not know what to make of the scratched lines and the jagged scribbles. She definitely did not want to be the student who had to bring up the definitely phallic shape in purple crayon in the middle of the piece.

“It says....’The Italians’ on it,” Michelle said. “So it’s...definitely taking place in Italy?”

Francis sighed heavily, a heartbroken sort of sigh that made Michelle feel like she had not only betrayed him, but also set his life savings on fire and kicked his dog.

“Observation must start somewhere, I suppose,” Francis said. “It is my fault, we should have gone into the history of European graffiti. Then...then you would be able to understand...Now take notes, everyone.”

Michelle popped more lead into her pencil. She did not doubt that she could probably recreate this piece onto her notebook as notes, if only to make a point to herself. But she reckoned that Francis would give her zero marks if he caught her.

“You don’t make it sound like a good thing,” Emil said.

Ludwig did not bother hiding a grimace.

“I suppose art just isn’t my thing,” he said.

(tbc?)

#hetalia #hetalia au #university au #aph france #aph seychelles #aph germany #aph iceland #credit to thedisappointedidealist12 for their rendition of francis

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crutchie-with-a-y · 5 years

Text

the newsies favorite school supplies

yes i know it’s stupid but we all have a favorite thing to get at target in mid august so shut up.

Jack: As a little kid he was obsessed with water colors but now he is a fuckin notebook junkie like he has fav brands & prefers different page counts & spiral or comp depending on brand

Davey: This boy is all about them flash cards. he even has this little coupon organizer that he uses as a mini binder to separate the different flash cards by class.

Les: he loves pencil sharpeners. like he’ll just sit and sharpen pencils while watching tv or while talking to people. it’s like a hobby. and one time davey got him an electric one & he went fuckin nuts

Race: race writes exclusively in fine point sharpie. nothing else. tests, notes, fake tattoos, all of em in the tiny dark lines

Albert: my boy really likes eRASERS! like he has messy handwriting and writes super dark so he has like tested them all to see which works best and goes through like two a month.

Crutchie: this boy loves sticky notes!!! he is forgetful so he likes to write things down on them. and he also writes his friends little notes on them. (oh and when he’s done with them he R E C Y C L E S)

Spot: this kid loves his rulers. Like in elementary he had one of those snap-bracelet rulers?? and now he just has a wood one and he just carries it around everywhere, to every class. Like he will color on it or point with it or drum with it or just balance it on his fingers when he’s bored. oh and measure shit lol.

Specs: tape! he often will like use tape to keep his glasses together until he can get new ones, but he also just likes to carry it bcuz someone always needs it & also someone’s poster is always unsticking from the wall so he always has tape in his pocket to stick it back up. He also carries patterned tape (washy tape?) that he decorates things with.

Sarah: my girl loves her pen. Not pens. PEN. she has had it for long as anyone can remember and never goes anywhere without it. It’s one of the ones ones that can be clicked to like a million different colors. (oh and it’s wrapped in specs washy tape)

Sniper: sniper loves crayons. He’s just always love coloring. He loved coloring books when he was little and he still uses them when he’s older, as well as “adult” coloring books. Sometimes Jack will even draw him something to color in. He likes to draw loops and rainbows all over worksheets and stuff as well.

Mush: stApLeS. Mush has a mini stapler he carries with him, a) bcuz it’s handy, b) cuz their fun. He will color on big sections of them with sharpies for a pop of color. And he’ll staple borders around worksheets & he will also just staple random shit? Like pickles he gets at lunch or the bathroom pass.

Tommy Boy: SO this kid loves to do calligraphy! He doesn’t usually bring his fountain pens to school because he’s afraid of losing them, but he loves his gel pens and he will also write his name all fancy and will make little name tags for his friends.

Elmer: Elmer is actually really organized? And how he does that is with a bunch of folders. He’s got a folder for everything. Classes, artwork, things from his friends, and also stuff he finds in the hall that others have lost so he can see if he can find the owner.

Katherine: katherine is big on highlighters. She has every color, every type, mini ones, big ones, glow in the dark, you name it she has it. She uses them on her notes and to emphasize things she writes. And to just add color to everything.

Romeo: Romeo is a sticker lover. Like he has fun stickers with puppies and stars and shit to put in his forehead and stuff but he also has those little dots he uses to label things.

JoJo: my man likes his mechanical pencils. He has a bunch of the cheap store brand ones to give to anyone who needs one, but he never writes with that peasant plastic. He uses the fancy ones with springs & roll up erasers & clickers on the side. He’s real snazzy.

Smalls: Smalls really loves markers. He writes pretty light and so with markers he can make things big and bold without hurting his hand, and he also likes how smooth they write. He likes the big thick crayolas, and his favorite color is purple.

Henry: w h i t e o u t. Henry likes to write in pen but he has messy handwriting and makes mistakes often so he uses whiteout to cover that. (And to paint his nails)

Finch: Finch LOVES math and he never goes ANYWHERE without his calculator. The other newsies always point out he has a phone but he insists on getting one of those big ass like calculus calculators that can print things and is the size of a small aircraft carrier.

I hope you liked them!!! Even the newsies are goin back to school so your not alone!! ;) good luck everyone!

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obsidiancorner · 6 years

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I have a question!!! How long have you been drawing and how long have you been doing digital art? Was it difficult to start with? I'm looking at learning to draw, but I'm not sure if I want to start traditional or if I want to get a tablet. TELL ME!!!

Hey there! Sorry this took me a full day to get to. I wanted to make sure I had time to properly search/attach links and whatnot. Then I had to contend with bath and bedtime for Kiddo. I literally started this post at 7pm... It’s now almost 11.

I have been drawing in traditional mediums since I was a LITTLE kid. Really little. Before I was in Kindergarten. I broke away from it after I graduated high school but came back to it after I moved to Florida. Chibi Cullen was my first digital piece, though. So... technically since October of 2017. I got my tablet at Christmas 2017 and that is when I REALLY got into it.

To answer what you should learn on: That’s largely a personal decision and not one I can really help you with outside of giving you some info and some links to help get you started.

Bare bones basic info:

Traditional is cheaper but you can play and learn without restraint on digital. It’s just that the tablet is going to be a MUCH bigger deposit. To get started in traditional art supplies, you can get away with approximately $20. A tablet is going to run you at least $50, likely more.

Keep in mind: expensive equipment does not a better artist make. A graphics tablet will not make drawing easier. Sure it has tools to help, like line stabilizers and such... but only practice will truly make you better.

I expand on this stuff below but first, my opinion.

My humble opinion:

If you want to just dabble and see how you get on: go traditional.

If you absolutely positively KNOW art is a skill you WANT to pursue no matter the degree of difficulty it is for you, that’s when you can begin to entertain the idea of a getting a tablet, but make sure you weigh everything out.

I don’t want to see anyone shell out that kind of money and have it be used once. I cannot stress enough to make sure you know your heart before sinking in on an expensive piece of equipment like a graphics tablet.

The rest is under the cut because this is a long post and I don’t want people to hate me.

Digital

If money isn’t an issue and you have a decent computer, you can consider going digital.

FireAlpaca, Krita, and MediBang are all free to download digital painting software. I, personally, have FireAlpaca and I love it. But I have also been toying around with trying Krita out. However, all of these programs are good enough that I don’t think you’d miss not having PaintTool SAI or Photoshop.

I will sing the praises of my Huion graphic tablet until my dying day because it will honestly probably last me that long if I don’t upgrade to a more advanced one sometime down the line.

Seriously. The one I have right now has already been dropped (because I’m clumsy as fuck), thrown (courtesy of a melting down kiddo), peed on and subsequently washed and sanitized (courtesy of an asshole cat), and stepped on (because my guy tripped over the asshole cat and knocked a whole bunch of shit off my desk in the process). The thing still works. They ARE built to last.

The version I have is the H610 Pro which costs about $80.00. There is some hand/eye coordination that needs to be learned because you will be drawing on the tablet but the image will be on your screen. That can take some time to get acclimated to.

My H610 is not the cheapest tablet they offer... I know that much but I haven’t really done a deep dive into Huion’s selection. But there are other types of tablets as well. Wacom, Yiynova, Lenovo, Microsoft, Apple, and Samsung all have tablets for artists.

If you want to talk tablets with monitors that allow you to see what you are drawing where you are actually drawing, you’re gonna be looking at throwing down a hefty chunk of cheddar (a couple hundred at least). For Huion products, that’s the Kamvas series of tablets.

I have had my tablet for 14 months already and I use it All. The. Time. I tell you that to tell you this: I have not yet replaced the nib on my pen and don’t anticipate having to change the nib for another year at MINIMUM. The tablet comes with four backup nibs. So, at almost daily use, you can easily get a decade worth of art out of the set they give you out the gate.

Traditional

To just do some light sketch stuff while you are getting used to drawing, it’s cheapest to just get some cheap mechanical pencils or drawing pencils and some simple printer paper. If you want a sketchbook, go cheap.

Once you get into your groove and want to start branching out, by all means, buy more expensive supplies if that suits your fancy. But to just get started on basics: Go. Cheap!!! There is no reason to spend more than $20 (and that’s being exceptionally liberal) at Walmart or the local dollar store.

I cannot stress enough that to just start out you don’t need pro quality anything. Crayola or RoseArt is what every. single. artist. started on because most of us started in school and just kept going from there. Those companies are still around because they are the building blocks every artist started on (at least in the USA... I don’t know about foreign markets). Guaranteed.

I still, to this day, use Crayola colored pencils. Two reasons: 1. I’m incredibly cheap and, most importantly, 2. they work just fine.

Conclusion (at last, amiright?) and Affirmation

I know I sold my Huion tablet pretty hard in the digital section but that’s ONLY because there is more information needed to make an informed decision (like sturdiness, brands, etc.). There is a lot less to discuss for basic supplies to just get started.

I will suggest traditional more often than I will suggest spending boatloads of cash for a beginner.

The choice between digital and traditional largely boils down to two things:

Cost

Drive / ambition / want / dedication

For the average person/household, cost effectiveness is critical in this economy. Even if you know in your heart of hearts digital art is a skill set you want to achieve, if you can’t afford a tablet, go traditional at first and gradually save up for a tablet. If you aren’t sure you will like drawing enough to sink in AT LEAST $50- and that is a fairly low-balled price tag- go traditional.

I will only ever recommend a tablet as a starting point to those who know with 100% certainty that drawing/digital painting is a hobby/skill they WANT to pursue.

I know I cannot tell people what to do because, ultimately, the choice is theirs. All I can offer is my opinion and some words of wisdom and caution.

I will say this, though:

Art is a skill, just as much as writing, sewing, knitting, and so on. ANYONE can learn this skill. Some advance faster than others due to natural aptitude but anyone can do it. You just have to dedicate time and patience to learning it.

Every artist started with stick figures. ;)

Remember that.

Every single one of us started by drawing stick figures.

That’s not to say that’s where you will begin, but an affirmation that literally EVERYONE, including commissioned artists, starts in the same place. Stick figures in crayon when we were kids. We all evolved from there.

Do NOT under ANY circumstances beat yourself up if you set out to draw a cat and it looks like Ditto with whiskers. (It’s happened to me. Literally that exact scenario. It’s okay to laugh. I sure did.) This is a Ditto, in case Pokemon isn’t your thing:

Keep at it and you will improve. I promise. Regardless of which way you go. Keep. At. It. and you will improve.

Drawing/painting is a constant evolution, regardless of medium, be it digital or a traditional one. Once you get the basics down, you begin to develop your own style. And even your own style changes as you progress. Look at mine. I’ve drawn two things for you. Hannah and Satinalia Cullen. Both mine but the styles are lightyears apart because I worked and evolved.

Studies in anatomy, color theory, light theory, and the like will be your best friends. Good reference photos will be your best friends.

And always remember: art is 150% subjective. Look at Picasso and Jackson Pollock. They are nothing like Michelangelo, Da Vinci, or Georgia O’Keefe. All of it is art.

Abstract, Renaissance, Nuveau, Deco, Modernism, Fauvism, Pointilism, Impressionism and the rest... All art. All very different styles.

All. Are. Valid.

All started with stick figures somewhere in their history. You gotta start somewhere but keep at it and you will succeed.

#art tips #digital versus traditional art #getting started #links and info #kagetsukai

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