#GREAT job with rendering! This looks like and oil painting!

[riskyalt]

@anonymous-dentist's SPIDERBIT WEEK! Day 1 but a bit late cause I thought it started on a Monday not a Sunday, perdón😔 I used the prompt Coffee :]

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Cellbit's vision is undoubtedly, unfortunately, not holding up to the level of activity his brain seems to be promoting. It's in the haphazard scrambling with flung out thoughts and half-baked theories that only make sense if he squints where he realises this investigation is beginning it's downward arc. it's the restless yet consistent energy, like gears turning in time with each other in a way the mechanism isn't oiled for. He distantly recognises this as a symptom of his constant fatigue and insomnia, but did he really care?

He was on a roll though, and had been for the last however many hours. The surrounding world fades into something unimportant and small, an option appearing for him to render it into his conscious or not. His ear flicks, goggles long since strewn across the table's corner by the dried ink blot where his pens sit, and he thinks about how all he can fixate on is the computer screen and the keyboard his fingers dance across.

He would be remorseful, truly would be if the circumstances and stakes were different. He's sure he would regret that crick in his back, the pounding ache of his spinal chord, that knee-deep layer of quicksand his body is suddenly trapped under - he's positive complaints would flow out of his mouth just as willingly as he chooses to subject himself to this in the first place.

Though the stakes are far higher than merely a few pains and aches here and there blooming across his body - the weight of friend's lives rest on his mind, so might as well tough out however long this nightmare will last. After all, this is far from anything compared to where he grew up. He can handle this, easy.

Cramped fingers reach for a black coffee cup, painted to resemble the Ordo's eye on the front. He's pale, as reflected by his skin against the mug, but he doesn't bother to spend braincells trying to think about that, instead feeding off the jolt of consciousness at the cold of the ceramic against his palm. There's…a liquid sloshing about inside, strange looking and smelling, something he once claimed was 'coffee'.

To his defence, he thinks to himself as he scrunches his nose and lifts to take a sip, he's never been bad at making or rating coffee. In fact, he would dare to call himself an expert on the drink. It's his obsession, his hobby, to the point that Felps liked to joke that half his bloodstream is made up of the substance. He grimaces at the reminder.

Cellbit chugs the minimal amount left, robotically putting down the mug onto a worn coaster sitting on his right. He's just so over the effort it takes to make genuinely good coffee that's up to his critical standard - no doubt effort and energy that cannot be spent on something so meaningless right now. He has a job to do, and he better do it well.

His rosetted tail curls from where it's hanging off the wooden chair, he scratches at his leg with the heel of his shoe. Ah, but here he is, getting sidetracked and lost in the restraints of his own mind.

Again.

He needs to get himself together, urgently.

Fatigued and lifeless blue eyes, like shards of ice under moonlight haul themselves off the painted mug and back onto the piercing display of his monitor. The pixels must be seared into his gaze permanently, the light must haunt his visage after countless days spent down here with nothing but the device as his companion.

There's a document displayed, he knows because he opened it twenty minutes ago, yet his brain is uncooperative and doesn't allow him to read it properly. The effort of translating is sapping mental strength from reserves he doesn't have, and generally tonight was going great until his vision gave out right under his nose.

Well. Actually it had been going downhill for a long time now.

He squints at the paper-white colour of the backing, carefully tracing the black imprints of letters on the page. He thinks he can read what it's saying, but as soon as that thought forms it slips away from his hands like a fish flashing past in a fast moving stream.

His pen taps against the edge of his notebook, harsh ceiling light drilling a needle further into his aching cranium.

The islanders needs him. They do.

He'll allow himself to just wish, at the least, that he could get better coffee. Though Cellbit's wished a lot in his life, and he can confidently conclude it does jack all. Wishing on a lucky star won't bring His warm laugh back will it.

His entire body flinches and soul startles into the tangible when he hears the sound of an elevator working, hissing sound causing jarring spontaneous panic to slam against his chest.

His heart beats against his ribs as the first outline of said intruder appears, leaving Cellbit frozen down to his position from the chair.

Black hair, exercised, same height-

It's not…..it isn't…that thing. He hates how quickly his mind stills at the conclusion. He blinks.

Cellbit releases a large breath as the familiar almond light of Roier's eyes catch his. The ocelot's hand instinctively clutches his chest, shoulders loosening and tail relaxing as the Mexican steps out from the teletransporter and further into the light of his office. "Que susto porra!" He exclaims, feeding off panic that's no longer present simply to pester.

He marvels in how much lighter his body feels at the familiarity and normalness of Roier's presence. He's like a sun, and here Cellbit is soaking up the light.

"Perdón, perdón, no queria asustarte." Roier laughs, smiling, fondly. It's not the splitting ear to ear grin that the man usually easily sports, something more melancholic and weak present about it. There are bags under his eyes, something unusual about the way his subsidiary spider features are cracked open. The arachnid still has overalls on, the same ones that-

Cellbit smiles back, just as soft with no one but them in audience, all pretend fear forgotten. He leans back on his chair and takes his hands off the keyboard, waiting for Roier to gather himself and begin speaking. He's totally not admiring how pretty the man is under the light of his office. Nope. His ears perk up.

"I heard you were working yourself to death, and Forever is asleep, so I decided if I can't get you to stop I'll at least help. So, I brought this." Roier proudly presents- a…white mug? It's steaming, wonderful aroma of ground coffee beans emanating from the top as any questions he may have had slip right out of his grasp. Cellbit has already lost any remaining interest in even considering his computer screen. His vision goes crystal clear if only for the mug.

"Qué es?" He tries to put as much enthusiasm as he can cram into the words, watching the Mexican's features light up at Cellbit's curiosity as he places the steaming plain white mug on the coaster and removes the black one.

The Mexican's face scrunches in a manner the Brazilian can only describe as cute when he peers into the contents of the black mug. Naturally, the chanting in Cellbit's head is unanimously saying 'fofo' on loop. For the first time, he can't exactly disagree. He pointedly ignores the flutter in his stomach.

"Qué es esto wey? What are you drinking man! Parece cemento!?" Roier's half gloved hands wiggle the mug back and forth, brows furrowed as his gaze slides back to Cellbit's face. The Brazilian smothers a laugh and nods seriously. "Yeah, you know the machine ran out so…had to get some from outside. Quick snack." He shrugs innocently, watching Roier's mouth open and his extra eyes widen.

"QUÉ-" Cellbit begins to laugh at the comical reaction, cutting the Mexican off as he too snorts in return. "Pendejo." Roier mutters, before moving away from Cellbit's desk, taking the painted mug and placing it on the glass coffee table across. Cellbit wonders why he feels a pang of disappointment at the lost proximity.

Roier flops down on the couch opposite his desk, halfheartedly rubbing at his face. Cellbit's still smiling, he knows, because this position for his features to assume for this long is unnatural and foreign to him, yet he doesn't quite find it in him to care.

"Ok, culero, drink while it's hot, I'm tired." The comment is light hearted as Roier motions from his sprawled out position towards the mug sitting on the coaster, yet Cellbit feels there's more truth to that statement than the man is letting on. He can literally see the lines of fatigue traced on the once pure-spirited visage, but remorsefully he shuts out his detective brain. He doesn't want to overstep where he's not welcome, especially after what happened to the man's literal son. Later he'd have to check up on the guy, make sure there's at least something he can provide to ease that buried hurt.

Cellbit quickly shifts his attention down to the mug, and immediately gawks at it. He can hear Roier's satisfied smirk, but-

Not only does it smell angelic, there's marshmallows scattered on the top and what he can definitely tell is cinnamon powdered on. Oh what was he even doing before Roier came in again? He looks back at the arachnid, who's grinning proudly, and takes the mug into his hands.

"This…thank you guapito?" Cellbit stutters out. "You put cinnamon, great call, by the way." He compliments, feigning obliviousness at the way triumph shines in Roier's gaze.

"Obvio, it's the best way to do it. Anyone that doesn't agree is a pendejo." Cellbit chuckles in assent and goes in for a swing.

He's not directly looking at Roier, but he can tell the man is carefully observing his reaction. He tamps down a smile as a thought occurs to him. The mug is warm in his hands, and he's regretful to let go of it but places it back on the coaster anyway.

Clearly, it's some of the most heavily shit he's tasted in years, and the fact that he's schooled his expression into such neutrality is an achievement in of itself. The cinnamon sits just right on his tongue with the bitterness of no sugar and the mildest hint of milk in the background, making it all balance so perfectly and Cellbit might as well be dead on the spot with how much sticky, honey-like warmth drips in his chest.

"Like a six out of ten." Cellbit says casually, cracking his fingers with the most practiced look of neutrality plastered on his features.

"QUÉ? Nah culero, ya me voy en chinguiza. Si me odias tanto-"

"É uma brincadeira! Broma!" Cellbit cackles at the genuine ire drawn on Roier's face before it instantaneously fades as he observes the Brazilian's laughter.

"Desculpe, I had to do it." He laughs out, watching Roier roll his eyes and laugh into his hand. It's a welcome sound, something unfiltered and so casually Roier.

"Órale! If you don't hate me, rate it, Caffellbit."

"Caffellbit?" Cellbit quirks up an eyebrow, amused grin staying on his face. Roier only nods genuinely at him, arms laying crossed against his chest. Cellbit does not pause on the muscle there for more than one second. He doesn't.

"Well. The cinnamon works really well, and there's no sugar as far as I can tell which is usually something people hate but I really love," he begins, noting the open curiosity in that deep brown stare across him. "it's like, perfect. At least a nine. Genuinely caters to my tastes so well- wait."

He snaps his gaze back to Roier's eyes. "Did you talk to Pac..?"

"Si, I in fact did. Tengo que cuidarte como si fueras un bebé , no puedes hacer ni madres solo." Cellbit grumbles at the remark as Roier's eyes sparkle with mirth.

"Alright no I see how it is." Cellbit rolls his eyes pretending he doesn't feel heat rush to his cheeks at the simple way in which Roier says it.

All he can think of is warmth, warmth, warmth. And not just because of the mug sitting atop the coaster.

Warmth and a touch of cinnamon.

--------

A day late, once again sorry lmfaoo 😭. I really need more writing practice

[fromkenari]

A mass of fools and knaves

The full email exchange between Alex Claremont Diaz and Prince Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor from Chapter Nine of Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. Put here for my best friend to read.

A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 1:04 AM to Henry H, Have you ever read any of Alexander Hamilton’s letters to John Laurens? What am I saying? Of course you haven’t. You’d probably be disinherited for revolutionary sympathies. Well, since I got the boot from the campaign, there is literally nothing for me to do but watch cable news (diligently chipping away at my brain cells by the day) and sort through all my old shit from college. Just looking at papers, thinking: Excellent, yes, I’m so glad I stayed up all night writing this for a 98 in the class, only to get summarily fired from the first job I ever had and exiled to my bedroom! Great job, Alex! Is this how you feel in the palace all the time? It fucking sucks, man. So anyway, I’m going through my college stuff, and I find this analysis I did of Hamilton’s wartime correspondence, and hear me out: I think Hamilton could have been bi. His letters to Laurens are almost as romantic as his letters to his wife. Half of them are signed “Yours” or “Affectionately yrs,” and the last one before Laurens died is signed “Yrs for ever.” I can’t figure out why nobody talks about the possibility of a Founding Father being not straight (outside of Chernow’s biography, which is great btw, see attached bibliography). I mean, I know why, but. Anyway, I found this part of a letter he wrote to Laurens, and it made me think of you. And me, I guess: The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you … Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that. History, huh? Bet we could make some. Affectionately yrs, slowly going insane, Alex, First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 239-241). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 4:18 AM to A Alex, First Son of Masturbatory Historical Readings: The phrase “see attached bibliography” is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me. Every time you mention your slow decay inside the White House, I can’t help but feel it’s my fault, and I feel absolutely shit about it. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to turn up at a thing like that. I got carried away; I didn’t think. I know how much that job meant to you. I just want to … you know. Extend the option. If you wanted less of me, and more of that—the work, the uncomplicated things—I would understand. Truly. In any event … Believe it or not, I have actually done a bit of reading on Hamilton, for a number of reasons. First, he was a brilliant writer. Second, I knew you were named after him (the pair of you share an alarming number of traits, by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c). And third, some saucy tart once tried to impugn my virtue against an oil painting of him, and in the halls of memory, some things demand context. Are you angling for a revolutionary soldier role-play scenario? I must inform you, any trace of King George III blood I have would curdle in my very veins and render me useless to you. Or are you suggesting you’d rather exchange passionate letters by candlelight? Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? I think perhaps Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. If you did decide to take the option mentioned at the start of this email, I do hope you haven’t read the rest of this rubbish. Regards, Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 241-243). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 5:36 AM to Henry H, Please don’t be stupid. No part of any of this will ever be uncomplicated. Anyway, you should be a writer. You are a writer. Even after all this, I still always feel like I want to know more of you. Does that sound crazy? I just sit here and wonder, who is this person who knows stuff about Hamilton and writes like this? Where does someone like that even come from? How was I so wrong? It’s weird because I always know things about people, gut feelings that usually lead me in more or less the right direction. I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star? I wanna see you again and soon. I keep reading that one paragraph over and over again. You know which one. I want you back here with me. I want your body and I want the rest of you too. And I want to get the fuck out of this house. Watching June and Nora on TV doing appearances without me is torture. We have this annual thing at my dad’s lake house in Texas. Whole long weekend off the grid. There’s a lake with a pier, and my dad always cooks something fucking amazing. You wanna come? I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty sitting out there in the country. It’s the weekend after next. If Shaan can talk to Zahra or somebody about flying you into Austin, we can pick you up from there. Say yes? Yrs, Alex P.S. Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky—1958: Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 243-245). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 8:22 PM to A Alex, If I’m north, I shudder to think where in God’s name we’re going. I’m ruminating on identity and your question about where a person like me comes from, and as best as I can explain it, here’s a story: Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery. At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince. His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole. Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too. So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right. Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.” I’m in for the lake house. I must admit, I’m glad you’re getting out of the house. I worry you may burn the thing down. Does this mean I’ll be meeting your father? I miss you. x Henry P.S. This is mortifying and maudlin and, honestly, I hope you forget it as soon as you’ve read it. P.P.S. From Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen, 1899: May the terrific U.S.A. be meanwhile not a brute to you. I feel in you a confidence, dear Boy–which to show is a joy to me. My hopes and desires and sympathies right heartily and most firmly, go with you. So keep up your heart, and tell me, as it shapes itself, your (inevitably, I imagine, more or less weird) American story. May, at any rate, tutta quella gente be good to you.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 245-247). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

[electric--blanket]

a place where the heart rests

so, because @thekaiserroll drew fanart of my fanfiction i decided to return the favour by writing a long Wintersberg one-shot based off of her short comic! i hope you enjoy touch-starved Heisenberg.

warnings for death (not for main characters) and some angst.

read on ao3

--

Mama… I want mama. It hurts.

Where’s mama?

Karl Heisenberg always suffered from nightmares. Even before he was taken in by Mother Miranda — as a child, Heisenberg often experienced night terrors that had him screaming in his bed. There were distant memories in the back of his mind, where he’d wake from a terrible dream that had him screaming for his mother — and she’d always come to his side. In that terribly large, cold estate that Heisenberg once called home, it always felt so lonely. But, his mother always eased his fears; with her silk nightgown and the distinct smell of expensive soap. Her soft fingers would comb through Heisenberg’s locks of ashen brown hair, hushing him in a soft tone of voice — a voice he could no longer remember.

During the experiments, it was the only thing Heisenberg begged for when he felt the cadou infesting his body. It felt like a worm wriggling around in the wet soil during a storm, curling and writhing through his organs. He screamed for his mother, wishing she would save him from the pain and take him home again. A seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mother to come and save him looked utterly pathetic from Mother Miranda’s perspective, and the feeling of fear only intensified when she stroked Heisenberg’s hair whilst he screamed. A soft whisper that uttered, “I’m your mother now, child.” It made Heisenberg nearly vomit.

That was the last time someone had ever touched him so tenderly. He’d not felt a loving touch since then and ducked away from Miranda’s so-called ‘motherly’ touches.

At first, Heisenberg coped with the intense trauma of his bodily changes by taking it in stride and calling his newfound power of magnetism a ‘gift’. He knew deep down it was the opposite: it stopped him from ageing, rendered him infertile and stripped away his dignity by becoming a slave to Miranda. It took a long time for Heisenberg to fully process what had happened to him. His father had left him in the clutches of a madwoman, and his life only got worse from there.

In a fit of rage — perhaps at the age of twenty-nine — he revisited his parent's estate to confront the man he could no longer call ‘father’. He had aged since Heisenberg last saw him, but those steel eyes he’d inherited were still as hard as ever. His mother lingered in a doorway just down the hall, but she didn’t dare come to greet her son as he snapped with a short, interrupted breath. Heisenberg had grabbed his father by the neck and pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking down a beautiful oil painting his mother adored. His fingers didn’t seem to stop, squeezing on the skin and bone until he felt a sickening crack vibrate beneath his fingers.

Heisenberg hadn’t meant it, not really. It was as if a demon had taken control of his body and sought revenge that barely mattered anymore. He didn’t realise what he’d done until he heard the sound of his mother screaming; distraught and fearful of her own son that she’d once coddled so long ago.

That was the last time Heisenberg saw his mother and father. The estate was quickly abandoned not long after, and from what he knew, his mother took her belongings and moved to Austria with some distant relatives. That large house teased Heisenberg every fucking day, with how it towered near the factory grounds and reminded him of what he’d done. Arson wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, but Heisenberg couldn’t resist taking a match to the place and watching it burn. Whatever childhood remained in that house was left in a pile of ashes, and he never looked upon it ever again. All of the silly dreams and hopes he’d had for his life were gone.

That was until Ethan Winters showed up. Nearly a hundred years later, Heisenberg felt something he’d sought after for so long — hope.

**

“Karl? Karl—!”

Mama. I want mama. Everything hurts.

Heisenberg forced his eyes open. It felt like his life was replaying in front of him whilst he was passed out; like watching an old film reel repeating itself and becoming more distorted each time. Up until that very night, Heisenberg’s life had been a series of traumatic events and unforgivable actions.

That night, he’d turned it all around just by laying his eyes on Ethan Winters. A man so incredible, resilient and insane… He’d do anything to get his little girl back. It was the man Heisenberg had oh-so wanted his father to be, and he admired that about Ethan. He’d never been so good at expressing his emotions honestly, or even laying out his ideas in a proper fashion to others… Oh, but Ethan was special. He’d shown Heisenberg patience that he’d not been offered before and decided to join him at his side to kill Miranda. Together.

“Karl… Fuck— Don’t die on me, asshole.”

Ethan… Ethan…

Above the metal remnants of what his mutated body had used as a shell, he could hear Ethan pushing the scrap aside to try and find Heisenberg buried beneath it. He could also hear the distinct cries of a distressed baby, something that brought him back to Earth. Heisenberg reached up through the metal until his bare, calloused fingers brushed up against Ethan’s soft knuckles. There was a moment of silence when their skin touched, but Ethan didn’t waste any time in grabbing Heisenberg’s hand and pulling him out.

The moment the pressure around his body ceased, Heisenberg felt the telltale feeling of sickening warmth seeping from many wounds across his body. The cadou inside him didn’t react too well to it, trying to cope with the trauma done by squirming and pulsating inside of him. Heisenberg drank in the expression of Ethan’s relieved face for just a moment, only until it warped into one of worry and horror. Heisenberg was weak, and his knees buckled beneath the weight of his torso before he fell back onto the ground.

The baby cupped carefully in one of Ethan’s arms began to cry again as Ethan jostled her accidentally in an attempt to help Heisenberg. A baby crying wasn’t really helping Heisenberg’s already distressed state, but it made him realise just how fucked he was. There was no way they would get away in time together, and Heisenberg was too injured to walk. The cadou might have helped to some degree, but it didn’t ease the burning pain in his body, and the loss of blood that was making him dizzy.

Ethan’s horrified expression was pinned on an appendage from the Megamycete, which rose up from the cave systems like a flower bud in spring, ready to bloom. The small, red flashing light alerted him to the fact that Chris Redfield had succeeded in planting the bomb. They had to leave.

“Go.”

A silence hung in the air for just a moment, and Heisenberg didn’t realise what he’d just said. For the first time in his miserable existence, he was being selfless and urging Ethan to leave him behind. It was the last thing Heisenberg wanted.

Don’t leave me here. I’m fucking scared. I don’t want to die yet.

“Fuck you,” Ethan’s voice trembled with venom, “I’m not leaving you here now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Heisenberg let out a bitter chuckle, tasting the blood seeping from his gums as he grinned, “I don’t think we have any time to be arguing about this, buttercup.”

“No. I— Mia’s dead, Karl. I need you.”

That’s right. Heisenberg briefly recalled Miranda’s kidnapping of the not-so-innocent woman and the experimentation that followed. Unfortunately, her body gave in due to her state after giving birth and she died on Miranda’s operating table. Ethan’s wife was dead, and Rose was now left without a mother’s loving touch.

“I said go. Rose needs her papa intact, not blown to pieces.” Heisenberg insisted, slumping back against the pile of scrap metal.

“Damn it—” Ethan looked hesitant to leave Heisenberg. It was a truly sweet sentiment: to see someone care about him after all this time. After all of the terrible things he’d done, and the love he’d been deprived of… Someone cared about him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to die like this.

“Fuck.” Ethan stammered again, licking his dry lips and swallowing, “Karl… I… Thank you.”

“... Yeah. I know, Ethan.”

That was all he needed. A trembling, watery smile shot his way before Ethan held Rose close with both arms and turned to run.

He’s going to be a great father.

Heisenberg looked up at the plant-like form the Megamycete had taken, looming down upon the ceremony courtyard with writhing mold creeping closer to Heisenberg. It was then that he decided that giving in like this wasn’t who he was: he was a fighter to his last breath.

In a last attempt to preserve his life, Heisenberg parted the pile of scrap metal and shuffled beneath it all. He rolled his wrist, the cocoon of metal surrounding him and tightening. The metal creaked, drowning out the sounds of the mold writhing around the metal to try and get inside. Heisenberg closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. I won’t die. Not yet.

The explosion that followed shortly after was deafening, causing the entire ground to shake beneath him and the metal to shudder against his body. It felt painful, rippling off his injured skin like that… But, fortunately for Heisenberg, the explosion wasn’t nuclear — the blast was enough to do the job and wipe out the mold and the Megamycete.

A silence followed the explosion, brick and ash collapsing against Heisenberg’s metal cocoon. Each noise made him flinch, and his fingers twitched instinctively as some final line of defence. He didn’t know how long it was before he felt brave enough to let his guard down and release his telekinetic grip on the metal. The scraps suddenly slumped, collapsing around him as Heisenberg pushed the metal off of his body and emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its former self.

The smoke and dust still remained, causing Heisenberg to cough heavily as he took a sharp inhale of the air. He squinted through the dust and remains of what was left of his home town and realised how much he’d lost. It hit him all at once; his childhood, his parents and his fucked up little family. Even though he hated Miranda and his makeshift siblings deeply, they were all he truly had left to call ‘family’. It was over in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg suddenly felt like a child all over again. Like a child waking from a nightmare, scared and alone.

Heisenberg’s fingers twitched into tight fists, clamping his mouth shut as tears threatened to spill down his face. Even after all this, he tried to will himself not to cry, to never let down the walls he had so carefully built. But, at that moment there was nothing left to keep the foundations upright. Heisenberg’s fists loosened, and he brought his hands up to cover his face instinctively. A knot seemingly untied itself in his chest and throat, and a guttural sob left him. Maybe — just maybe — it was okay.

**

Navigating the woods was even worse during a snowstorm at night. It was bad enough that Heisenberg’s body was weak from his healing injuries, but it felt haggard from his intense emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, he felt relief from it but at the same time, it felt awfully inconvenient. Heisenberg was sure he looked like a terrible mess; his clothes were torn and his hair was damp with clumps of ash hanging from his silver locks. Not to mention the blood staining his clothes, and his valuable dog tags that hung low on his chest.

In his many idle chats with Ethan before they fought Miranda, he could recall the other man mentioning he didn’t live too far from the village. It was a fair distance away, but not too far that it would be impossible to reach if your car broke down on the road between them. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant or short walk.

By the time Heisenberg even managed to reach a place that looked like a livable home, he was close to collapsing in the snow… But, he held out. The lights were turned off inside, but a motion sensor light on the property turned on once Heisenberg got close enough. The bulb blinded him briefly, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes as he walked up the porch to the door. Heisenberg sluggishly lifted his hand, knocking on the door as hard as he could and leaning against the frame. It took a few moments before he could see a light turn on inside from the windows, and the sound of someone walking down a wooden staircase slowly.

The person on the other side of the door stopped before they reached for the doorknob, and they spoke out.

“Who is it?”

Ethan Winters. That voice Heisenberg had missed so dearly; in all of its glory and full of caution. It almost made him laugh.

“Let me in, Ethan. I’m freezing.”

“Karl?”

“As smart as ever, Ethan. Can you hurry up?”

Ethan was quick to unlock the door and remove the security chain, twisting the doorknob and pulling it open. There, Ethan was standing in a pristine white shirt and some boxers that hung low on his hips… Along with a pair of comical slippers that seemed to resemble a cartoon dog. Heisenberg’s lips twitched into a tired grin.

“Oh my, too much skin, Ethan. Back in my day—”

“Shut up and get in here!”

Ethan grabbed Heisenberg’s arm, tugging him inside to shield him from the snowstorm outside. He slammed the door shut and quickly locked it back up, and the two men finally stood face-to-face. There was a silence that hung in the air, with so many unanswered questions on the tip of Ethan’s tongue, but none came. Without any further hesitation, Ethan threw his arms around Heisenberg’s neck and tugged him close for an embrace.

It was the first time Ethan had touched him in such a way. So full of affection and genuinity, it made Heisenberg’s fingers tremble with uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: so overcome with the touches that smothered him. His brows creased into an expression of relief, and Heisenberg’s steel eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the hug. He wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, squeezing him carefully and burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder. The smell of talcum powder and formula milk permeated his shirt, giving Heisenberg the comfort he craved. He never wanted Ethan to stop touching him, and he was content to stay like this for as long as he could — to make up for all the time he’d lost aching after affection.

“I thought…” Ethan mumbled slowly, “I thought you were dead.”

“Mm.” Heisenberg hummed lowly in response, curling his fingers into Ethan’s shirt. “So did I. Turns out I’m hard to kill.”

Ethan snorted softly.

**

As it turned out, Heisenberg wasn’t too bad with kids.

It was a tough adjustment for the two men at first; Ethan had to keep Heisenberg a well-guarded secret as he was moved to a new location with Rose (courtesy of the BSAA). Heisenberg followed their steps at a safe distance, but he was never too far from them. Understandably, Ethan was moved into a smaller home: a humble bungalow in a quiet German village. Once the BSAA had left Ethan in peace with Rose, it didn’t take long before Heisenberg settled into the bungalow with them.

Ethan had insisted that if Heisenberg was going to stay there with him and Rose, then he’d need to learn to help take care of the baby. At first, he was extremely hesitant to do something akin to a parental figure… But, Rose was a surprisingly sweet baby. She didn’t fuss too much and rarely threw a tantrum over the little things. Rose was the right amount of responsibility for Heisenberg, and that made him a patient parent.

He’d been taught how to properly hold her (after many lectures), how to prepare her formula and change her. Rose was understandably unhappy with Heisenberg’s presence at first, perhaps longing for her mother that was no longer around… But, after a few months, she took to Heisenberg very well.

Because of Karl’s lack of mortality and infertility, he never thought he’d take the figure of a father like this… But, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome opportunity. He’d even upgraded from sleeping on the couch to Ethan’s bed.

The first night Ethan invited him to bed, Heisenberg could tell from the flustered look on Ethan’s face that it took a lot of courage to ask him to bed. A sexual joke lingered on the tip of Heisenberg’s tongue, but he bit it back in favour of keeping the proposal on the table. Instead, Heisenberg had nodded with a cheeky grin and followed Ethan to bed.

There had been some nights where the loss of Mia hit Ethan harder than he’d liked it to — even after Mia’s work with The Connections was revealed, he had still loved her to a degree. Those nights were the hardest. All Heisenberg could do was hold Ethan in his arms and comfort him with nothing more than his presence.

This invitation into Ethan’s bed was far more intimate than a comforting hug. At first, they stayed a polite distance apart on either side of the bed, with Ethan turned on his side whilst Heisenberg stared up at the dark ceiling. In the darkness, his eyes created shapes that danced across the ceiling and warped before him. Much like the mold that infested him, it was as if it continued to taunt him with its presence. After a moment, Heisenberg finally turned onto his side and glanced at the lump that was Ethan with his back to him. That urge to touch returned to the forefront of Heisenberg’s mind. It was that deep ache in his chest, like a lump of flour stuck in a smooth dough that needed to be coaxed inward.

He reached out but stopped himself before he could touch, trying to plan the best way to move forward with what he wanted. Heisenberg pursed his lips, shuffling his body closer to Ethan’s back until he finally slid his arm over Ethan’s waist. He could feel Ethan’s body freeze and tense up a little, which made Heisenberg’s heart feel like stopping altogether. Had he gone too far?

But after a moment, Ethan relaxed, pressing his chest back into Karl slowly. It was all the permission he needed to slot himself fully against Ethan and quietly seek out his hand. Once Heisenberg found it, he carefully laced their fingers together as he held Ethan like that, tugging him close with his elbow.

No words were spoken in the darkness, but a silent understanding of what they both wanted. Heisenberg finally felt complete like this, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly. His body suddenly felt tired, releasing all the tension it had been holding trying to psyche himself up to do it.

A feeling of affection swelled in Heisenberg’s chest as he held Ethan, finally giving in to the darkness and drifting away with their bond now stronger than ever.

**

“Are you fucking insane, Ethan?!”

Chris Redfield. A thorn in Heisenberg’s side, but not as bad as Miranda. His voice filling their home put Heisenberg on edge, but it didn’t really matter too much to him. It was around ten in the morning, and the couple had just had breakfast. The television was on, playing some cartoons in the background as Rose was sitting on the soft carpet of the living area with her toys, and Heisenberg sat close to her.

When Chris made an unexpected visit, and he spotted Heisenberg in the living room, the yelling began. Ethan had kept Chris just outside of the room so that Rose didn’t see her father getting angry, and Heisenberg made sure to keep her attention on her toys. Heisenberg was wearing a pair of tartan boxers, along with a button-up pyjama shirt with a white tank top beneath it. It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of bedtime fashion, but it made him comfortable enough at night.

When the yelling only got worse and Rose seemed irritated by the noise, Heisenberg carefully brought Rose into his lap and crossed his legs.

“Hmm,” He hummed in feigned thoughtfulness, “Does ol’ Karl need to perform for little Rose again?” Heisenberg sighed dramatically, “Oh, the things I do for you.”

He turned his body subtly to the kitchen area, holding his hand out and focusing on one of the drawers. It slid open, a few tablespoons floating out from a cutlery tray. Heisenberg pulled his hand back, the spoons floating across to the living area and bringing them to a stop in front of him and Rose. With a simple, slow roll of his wrist, the spoons began to twirl and move in a circular motion above Rose.

Her eyes widened with fascination, the corners of her mouth opening into a gleeful smile. Absently, she reached up with her soft, pink hands and tried to reach for the spoons half-heartedly as they continued their motions. A soft laugh bubbled from her, causing Karl to smile softly.

“He’s a dangerous bioweapon, Ethan. He could hurt Rose!”

Heisenberg managed to hone in on those words; a sharp pain digging into his chest when he realised the implications Chris was trying to make. That Heisenberg was a monster. A bioweapon without feeling. A creature that would kill a child.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan pointing wordlessly at the soft scene of Heisenberg with Rose in his lap, entertaining her with spoons. That was all he needed to say, really — without even saying it. Even Chris was at a loss for words, and he quietly relented. Ethan was surely in for an afternoon of lectures.

It made Heisenberg smile a little more, turning his head subtly towards Ethan and catching his gaze. It was his quiet way of saying thank you. It went beyond thanking Ethan for trusting him with Rose but thanking Ethan for listening to Heisenberg, taking him into his home and loving him. Even though they’d never spoken those three little words out loud, maybe they didn’t need to. Their actions, affections and closeness spoke those words loud enough.

Truly, after all this time, Heisenberg didn’t think he was capable of ever being loved or trusted. Now that he’d left that horrible life behind, he was now a father, a friend and possibly a lover. The trauma would always remain, yes, like the cadou and the mutations. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy like this, in this simple little life he’d started to build with Ethan.

Maybe it would be okay.

[brooklynmuseum]

Time for a #ResiliencyBreak! Today one of our curators, Margarita Karasoulas, discusses unemployment and how an artwork in our collection speaks to our here and now. 

Looking Back to the 1930s: Maurice Kish’s Job Hunters 

A recent report in the New York Times cited troubling statistics: the skyrocketing rise of unemployment nationwide due to COVID-19, numbers not seen since the height of the Great Depression. These headlines offer a stark reminder of the cyclical nature of economic recessions in American history, encouraging connections between our present circumstances and past historical events. Looking back in time, I am reminded of 1930s-era art and visual culture, which reflected the ordinary experiences of Americans who lived through unprecedented economic devastation. 

Installed in the Brooklyn Museum’s American galleries, Maurice Kish’s Job Hunters (circa 1932-1933) speaks most urgently to our current moment. Painted from an elevated vantage point, this urban scene depicts the unemployed amid the industrial environs of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where coal plants and factories once lined the East River. Here, these industrial structures assume a towering monumentality. The muted color palette, coupled with the presence of billowing plumes of smoke and steam, create a somber, even oppressive, mood. Kish, a labor and union activist and recent immigrant to the United States, resided during the thirties in Williamsburg, where he likely observed this scene firsthand. 

The title brings us back to the very subject of the painting: joblessness. Here, the figures are unidentified, their faces indistinct. They wear the same misshapen clothing; some are empty-handed, while others clasp shovels or pails. The men, perhaps recent immigrants themselves, are rendered anonymous by their very sameness. Yet their status of employment remains unclear. Are these figures working or newly out of work? Are they former employees of the Larkin Coal Company, whose sign is emblazoned on the large, silo-like structure at left, or perhaps hopeful ones seeking out new opportunities? 

The subject of the painting evokes familiar imagery from the 1930s, when the financial gains and heady optimism of the twenties gave way to a widespread and deeply felt economic recession. Many artists and photographers, especially those associated with New York’s Photo League (founded in 1936), represented the consequences of unemployment in human terms. They pictured the masses participating in an unusual kind of urban procession, showing crowds queued up in line, waiting for food or the mere prospect of a job. Other scenes captured a pervasive sense of resignation and helplessness in the form of the individual on the park bench, a common leitmotif in the era’s art and visual culture. 

Nathan Lerner (American, 1913-1997). Jobs, 1936, printed later. Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Kiyoko Lerner, 2011.25.17. © artist or artist's estate 

Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). [Untitled] (Man on Park Bench). Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.319 

How strange and unsettling, then, to imagine how Kish’s painting might resonate with our times. At first, it presents as a grim picture, offering little in the way of comfort. Neither a leftist statement nor a pictorial indictment against unemployment, Kish’s painting does not inspire action or mass solidarity; rather, it invokes sympathy on the part of the viewer. The figures appear hunched over, as if weary, as they trudge through the snow. Dwarfed by the looming machinery and architecture, these human actors are noticeably eclipsed by industry, their joblessness rendered in stark contrast to the flurry of manufacturing activity in the distant background.

Still, this work speaks to human perseverance in the face of hardship. Unlike the sense of stasis embodied by the people in Depression-era art and photography, these individuals are actively moving. Situated at the intersection of two streets, the roving figures are poised to move in different directions; most proceed toward the waterfront in the far distance, while a pair of workers in the immediate foreground walks toward us. Their faces appear increasingly legible and their bodies are cropped by the edge of the canvas, a pictorial device that suggests their spatial position near the realm of the viewer and encourages us to identify with them, even in that fleeting moment. Methodical in their movement, the figures manifest resilience and resolve. What’s more, few are solitary. Most move in duos, trios, or even larger groups, suggesting a sense of common purpose and experience. 

Bleak as it may appear, Kish’s painting offers glimmers of hope, a poignant reminder that we, too, are in this together. 

Posted by Margarita Karasoulas, Lead image: Maurice Kish (American, born Russia, 1898-1987), Job Hunters, 1932-1933. Oil on canvas, Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Harold M. Levy, 67.181. Sources consulted: Laura Hapke, Labor’s Canvas: American Working-Class History and the WPA Art of the 1930s (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 2008).

[theartofbatman]

Pattern & Texture

Art Credit: Mikel Janin 

In the story “The War of Jokes and Riddles” Joker and The Riddler fight to see who can take over Gotham city, with each villain assembling their own team of other villains.

Two pages are featured here: a collage of Riddler’s team, and a collage of Joker’s team. Instead of potentially wasting page space showing us Riddler and Joker recruiting these many characters one by one, this collage approach allows us to quickly and efficiently see who is on each side. Additionally, the chaos of the collages in the foreground are contrasted by the static grid pattern of a map of Gotham city behind them. There’s a dramatic range of visual textures too, such as the scaly appearance of Killer Croc, the leathery appearance of Joker’s purple glove, the metallic look of the numerous guns, and the shiny glass of Mr. Freeze’s helmet. This diversity of design makes each character stand out, especially when clustered next to the others. 

This comics features a wide variety of characters, all with dramatically different appearances, but the artists do a great job of rendering each one with a high level of detail. This attentive art style really gives the book a lot of personality. 

GLOSSARY:

Pattern: an arrangement, configuration, array, formation, guide, matrix of repeated forms. Patterns create rhythm and can be used to predict and organize design elements such as using a grid.

Alternating pattern: to occur in succession, such as day alternating with night. To pass back and forth from one state, action, or one place to another.

Chiaroscuro: A technique of painting or drawing using a predictable sequence of light and shade to achieve a three-dimensional quality.

Collage: A technique of an art production, primarily used in the visual arts, where the artwork is made from an assemblage of different forms, thus creating a new whole.

Gradient: is continuous change, darkening, lightening, increasing or decreasing color saturation. A gradient is created when two or more different colors are layered to paint one element while gradually fading between the hues or values.

Grid: means a rectangular system of coordinates used in locating the principal elements of a plan.

Progressive patterns: create active change, momentum by shifting in a direction, increasing, escalating, or accelerating.

Radial balanced patterns: based on a circle with its design extending from its center. A few examples of radial balance are; a star, the iris in one’s eyes, and a wheel with spokes.

Texture: the way that something feels when you touch it, how smooth or rough it is. The texture of an object depends on the unique structure of its molecules. Fur may feel soft or coarse, metal may be oiled and shiny or rusted and rough.

Tactile textures: physical, touchable textures that you can actually feel on your skin in the real world, like when you pet a cat or dog.

Texture mapping: a process in which a two-dimensional surface, a texture map, is wrapped around a three-dimensional object. When wrapped, the 3-D object acquires a visual surface texture.

Visual texture: an illusion of texture. Pixels or traditional drawing and painting media can be manipulated to give the impression of texture, while the surface actually remains smooth and flat. The texture on an ancient wall, a vehicle, or a creature’s scaly or slimy skin increases the immersion of a game.

[jacksonxschuester]

I Owe You a Painting || Jacksher

Date: September 20th, 2020 Who: Jackson and Asher @asherkarofsky Description: Jackson delivers the painting he did for Asher, as a thank you for the easel Asher made for Jackson, which was a thank you for... you get the point. Jackson then helps Asher make his suite feel a little more like home Note: Not finished, but it’s cute and I want it on the dash. 

Jackson had actually finished the painting a few days ago, but he'd gotten ambitious and decided to try oil paints for this piece, and he'd wanted to give it lots of time to dry before delivering it. Taking inspiration from some Bob Ross episodes, he'd created a sweeping prairie landscape with a duck pond and a farm house. There were a few trees and bushes and flowers, but plenty of open blue sky and a worn, homely feel to the house. He'd painted it on a 18" x 24" canvas and had signed his name in the bottom corner. Overall, he was pretty proud of how it turned out, but he was still a little nervous about Asher's reaction to it as he stood outside the Dom's door and knocked. He hoped it would be well recieved.

Everyone had told him he would settle in and get more things and that the giant suite wouldn't feel so giant anymore. That had not happened yet. Mostly he ate in the cafeteria and spent any time out of classes in bed sleeping. Today he'd decided to do some whittling in his suite since the workshop didn't have the light he needed. There were small curls of wood on the kitchen bar where he was working. He'd just put the small creature on the bar top to look at when there was a knock on the door. He opened it wondering who would be coming to see him. He was happy to see that it was Jackson. He just didn't know what to say. "Hi." He even waved before feeling awkward and letting his hand drop. "Oh... oh come in."

Jackson forced a smile onto his face when he saw Asher. "Hi." He greeted, and stepped in when he was invited. He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then remembered the reason for his visit. "I um... I finished it." He said, turning the painting around in his hands for Asher to see. "It's my first attempt with oil paintings, so it's not perfect, but I hope you like it and even if you don't it's okay because I can always try to do a better one..." He rambled.

Asher hadn't expected to get the painting yet. Surely Jackson had so much other more important things than him, but here it was right in front of him. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the painting was perfect. "It... it's perfect. It's exactly like the place I dream of having some day. Like that's exactly it." He reached out for the painting but hesitated. "Can I... Is it okay to hold it?"

Jackson's expression shifted into a softer, more genuine smile as Asher took in the painting. He was relieved that the Dom seemed to like it. "Yeah, it's totally dry, you can hold it." He assured. "You really do like it?" He asked, seeking confirmation and reassurance.

"Like it? No. I love it." He carefully took the painting in his hands walking closer to the large living room window to see it in the light. "How did you know this was exactly what I saw in my head? I have this dream... kind of dumb I know, but I'd love to own a place like this someday. A place to call my own, you know?"

"I didn't know." Jackson shrugged. "I just ran with the idea you gave me and this is what came out. It does look like a nice place to live though. Peaceful..." His smile turned sad as he realized he'd never even given any thought to the type of house he'd like to have someday. Not since Steven had passed, anyway. "I hope you get to have a place like this in the future, Sir."

"Yeah peaceful." He turned to the other man. "I hope so. Gotta be careful with dreams though." He hated that he couldn't just be one of those hopeful, optimistic people. He blames his parents for ruining that for him. "Will you help me figure out the best place to hang it." He looked around at the suite. It was very.... white. The painting would start to make this place feel a little like home.

Jackson nodded, "Of course I'll help." He said, glossing right over the bit about being careful with dreams. He'd given up having any sort of dream himself. He didn't want to bring Asher down by talking about that. "What about that wall there?" He pointed to one of the walls in the living room. It was opposite the couch, so that you could see it if you were sitting there, and the shape and size of the canvas was very appropriate to the size of wall it was

He nodded. He realized instantly that if he was on the couch he'd be able to see it and also it there it would be visible as soon as he walked in the door. "Here hold it. I'll get my tools." He went to the kitchen bar, but stopped and turned back to look at Jackson. "Thank you. Thank you for this." He grabbed his tools and walked back over. Gesturing around the suite, he laughed. "As you can see I'm not so good at, decorating. Personalizing." That was the better word. He didn't need 'decorating' but he did sort of crave personalization in his life.

Jackson waited patiently while Asher grabbed his tools, and upon observation he found that Asher's statement was accurate. There weren't a lot of personal touches around the place, except for the pile of wood shavings and some sort of carving on the counter. Jackson assumed that's what he'd been working on when he arrived, but now that he knew the wood shavings were there he was itching to sweep them up and put them out of sight. "I could help you with that, if you like?" He offered suddenly, unsure of exactly way. Maybe he just needed to feel like he was useful, needed by someone.

Ash was pulling out his small hammer and some finishing nails that should do the job to hold up the painting when Jackson spoke again. "Hmm? Oh.. oh really? You'd do that?" He looked around again. "Don't even know where to start." He shrugged and kept his gaze down on the hammer in his hands that he was spinning around. "Used to have a little picture of me an' Silas and Dave as kids, but I lost it." It had been the only thing he'd had to remind him of his family. And losing it was the very last time he ever cried.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind." He said. "Is there a way to find a copy of that picture, maybe? Would Silas or Dave have a copy?" He asked, already planning on asking Silas for any photos of Asher as a kid to frame. "We could also paint the walls to whatever colours you like, and add things related to stuff you like." He motioned over to the carving on the counter. "Do you do a lot of that sort of thing? You could display your work on your bookshelves and such.

"Don't know. Maybe Dave. Si kind of left in a hurry. Don't think our folks let him bring much when he came here." He frowned. "They won't mind me paintin'?" He been worried about the holes he was about to put in the wall and already had a plan on how he'd repair those when the time came. He laughed and smiled at Jackson. "Don't if they're as good as all that, but might be nice to look at 'em." He looked over at the creature on the bar. He found a lot of happiness in making them even as silly as they were.

Jackson made a note to check with Dave, also. Just in case. "They don't mind paint and things like hanging pictures or hooks or decor, they just don't want anyone doing extensive damage that'll cost a lot to repair or render the suite unusable for any period of time." He informed, remembering one incident when he was a teenager that his father got very heated about. "One time a student knocked out a couple of walls to combine all the bedrooms together. My father was not pleased. That was way before I came here, though." Curious, Jackson made his way over to the counter. "Give yourself a little credit, not everyone can carve things out of wood like this. I'm sure they're..." He trailed off when he saw what the little creature was. A tiny bird sat on the countertop near the pile of shavings, and Jackson felt his heart jump into his throat. "... great." He finished his sentence, carefully picking up the carving and examining it closer. The word pajarito played over and over in his head in Mateo's voice, 'little bird' it meant. The tears were stinging at his eyes despite his valiant effort to make them stop.

Asher's eyes went wide. Knocking down the walls was a huge undertaking and could actually be downright dangerous. Generally with a large building like this the load bearing walls were all around the outside, but still. "I don't even use the space I have. Can't imagine needing more. "They aren't too hard. Learned when I was a boy. They do..." He noticed that Jackson had stopped talking and that he had tears in his eyes. "Sugar, are you okay?" He dipped his head to get in between the other man and the small wooden bird taking shape out of the wood.

Jackson took in a shuddering breath and tried very hard to steady his emotions. "Fine. I'm fine." He insisted, despite it not being true in the slightest. "It's nothing. It's a stupid thing, actually." He rambled. "Little bird is the nickname Sir Mateo gave me, that's all." He said, knowing Asher would want an explanation, but Jackson felt really stupid for such a small thing affecting him this much. Sometimes it hit him like a sack of bricks, the magnitude of losing yet another Dom, and in those moments Jackson found it really hard to breathe.

Asher didn't hesitate for a moment. He snatched the bird off the counter and shoved it in his pocket. "It's not stupid." He obviously had no idea of this reaction when he decided to carve a bird, but he hated that it had caused him to remember this pain. "I'm sorry."

Jackson shook his head. "It is stupid. And it's not your fault." He insisted, and then his hands where against his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. He hated how fragile  he was. He took a few steps away and took a breath, "I'm sorry..."

Asher didn't want to argue but he didn't think it was stupid at all. He'd never been in love before and he couldn't image having it and losing it. That whole 'better to have and lost' seemed like bullshit to him. He stayed quiet for a while and then spoke in a quiet voice. "Wanna get this painting up and then help me pick out my next carving should be?"

Jackson could feel his skin start to break under his fingernails, and the sharp pain brought him a brief moment of respite from the mental pain. He heard Asher speak and for a moment, he wasn't sure what the Dom had said. He turned, wiping at his eyes. "Maybe I should just go?" He asked, not wanting to further bring Asher's mood down.

Ash saw the way Jackson's body was stiff Nd he was scratching roughly at his arm. It must have hurt the way he was pressing in. "I really like having you here, but don't wanna make you stay if you're feelin' uncomfortable." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can I walk you home? Make sure you're safe."

Safe. The word rung hollow in Jackson's ears. Sure, he might be away from any immediate harm, but safe? Could he really count himself as safe until he was claimed? Mateo had promised him safety... he had promised to do whatever it took to include Jackson in his family, but when the time came it turned out there was a line he wouldn't even consider crossing. Jackson realized it had been a minute or two since Asher had spoken, and he still hadn't replied. "Um... I... I'll stay if you want. You needed help, right? I can help. I can be useful." The words were mostly spilling from his mouth as they came into his head, no filter in between to remind him what was socially appropriate and what was not.

Ash wished he was his brother in this moment. Silas would have the words to comfort Jackson. But he just waited. "You've been so damn helpful to me Jackson. I gotta tell you, don't really got friends." He shrugged. "You're probably not supposed to decide this one sided, but you're my best friend Jackson. Don't know what I woulda done here without you. So yeah, if you want to stay, I could use your help." He didn't know if that meant Jackson was useful, but it damn well did mean he was needed. Asher really needed him.

Jackson felt himself tear up again. Asher considered him his best friend? It felt good, but it also made him feel a little guilty. Should he be putting more into this friendship than he has been? Asher really must not have had many friends if he considered Jackson to be the best one... He wiped at his eyes again and just nodded. "Okay... I'll stay." He said softly. "Tell me what you need me to do, Sir."

Ash smiled. He felt like he'd maybe unwittingly manipulated Jackson to stay, but it was hard to muster any guilt over that. For whatever reason, he just felt like his friend belonged right there for the time being. The suite felt like something more than a place to rest from time to time when he was there. "Let me just tap a nail in here." He did just that and then hung the painting up before looking over at Jackson. "So is it straight?"

Jackson just watched as Asher hammered in the nail and hung the painting. He let out what could only be described as a half chuckle/half sniffle. "It's about as straight as I am." He informed, which was to say, not at all. "Needs to go a little to the left."

Ash let out a snort. The years away from his parents and their church as well as the same years spent working side by side with all sorts of people had freed him from most of his prejudices. The ones that remained only seemed to direct inside toward himself. He liked that the chuckle sounded even if there was a bit of a sniffle with it. It hinted at what a joyful sound he would make if he was truly happy. He tilted it to the left. "How's that?"

Jackson gave a thumb's up as he used the other hand to wipe his eyes. "Much better." He said. "Probably as good as you'll get it without using a level, anyway." He added.

"I'll probably order a better hanger. 'Fraid the nail will damage it long run. I'll get some wire and do it up right. Then I'll use a level." He stepped back and stood next to Jackson. "Ain't that beautiful. Best thing I've ever owned." He looked over to his friend. "So I got a bunch of these little wooden critters. But some's better than others. Help me pick some for the shelves?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Then I got some of that casserole you made me. We could share some if you want. Maybe watch somethin' on the tv?"

It warmed Jackson's heart that Asher loved the painting enough to think about things like whether or not the method of hanging would damage it. He had to admit, he liked the way it looked in this room. It was just a touch homier now, and soon Jackson hoped to make this place feel like a home to Asher. He got the sense that Asher didn't feel at home here yet, and that made him sad. "Sure, let's look at them." He said, "That all sounds good, Sir." He offered a smile. It was small, only lasting a second or two, but it was genuine.

"Hang on. Be right back." He had realized at the last moment that his room was in no state for Jackson to see it. Usually he was quite neat. After all it was easy to be neat when you didn't have a lot of things. But that morning he had been in a hurry to get to class and he knew for a fact there was a pair of underwear right there in the middle of the floor. He scooped them up and tossed them in the hamper on his way to grab his duffel bag. The little wooden figures rattled around inside. Once back he sat on the couch and unzipped the bag. And started to pull the little creatures and set them out one next to the other. "I know they're kinda silly."

Jackson sat on the couch while he waited, trying to calm his mind and heart. His fingernails naturally found their way to his skin again, using the sharp little pains as a distraction tool until he felt less like bursting into tears at any moment and more focused on his actual surroundings. When Asher returned, he tugged a sleeve over his arm to hide a particularly bad spot. As the little wooden figures made their appearance, Jackson's eyes widened. "They're not silly at all, Sir." he assured, "They're amazing..." He reached out for one, gently lifting it to get a closer look. "Is this... Vulpix? Like from Pokemon?" He asked.

Asher wasn't the type to blush and he didn't quite blush now, but he looked a lot more like an a shy boy then he ever did. "Oh... umm, yeah. Used to love Pokemon when I was little." He still loved it clearly, but it felt safer to couch it in terms of a childhood thing. "The folks decided Pokemon were demons and wouldn't let us watch." He shrugged. "Guess just feels good to defy 'em."

Jackson smiled, picturing a young Asher and Silas sneaking over to a friend's house to watch Pokemon after school. "I used to love Pokemon too. Still do, sorta. Guess I'm not as into it as I once was, though." He admitted. "These are really cute though." He said, looking over the rest of the figures. "I think you should display them all, honestly."

"I should give the Pokemon one's to Si. He loves all that stuff." He picked up the bundled up little koala bear and handed it to Jackson. "Okay. I'll put 'em on the shelf. Better than bangin' around in my bag huh? But umm... would you take this one?" It was like how he felt Jackson should be... bundled up and protected.

Jackson carefully took the little bear, smiling at it. "Are you sure?" He asked, already kind of in love with the little figurine. He wasn't particularly attached to bears or anything, but he adored the way this one was all cozied up, and the fact that Asher had made it made it all the more special.

"Positive. It'll make me happy and proud knowin' you got him." He smiled and nodded. "So which do you think you'd like doin' more..." He had taken some time to research OCD and there was this thing he read about how control over tasks was super important. "figuring out how they should look on the shelf or heatin' up the food? Or we could to 'em both together."

Jackson nodded. "I'll keep him safe, Sir. I promise." He said, and then at being given the option, Jackson blinked. He wasn't used to that. Normally, Doms would just give him an order and he'd happily follow it, feeling happy to at least be useful. "Um.. I could put these up on the shelf, Sir." He said, knowing he'd get an immense amount of satisfaction from deciding how to arrange them in the most aesthetically pleasing way.

"Cool." He chuckled. "Was hoping you'd say that. Don't know where to start with that kinda thing." He figured that because the food was prepared by Jackson, he would feel comfortable eating it. He went to the kitchen and started to pull out the food and then suddenly had a thought. He left the food in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of cleaner and gave the counters and microwave a good once over, even though they were already clean to his eyes. He scooped the wood shavings and put them in the garbage before finally starting to reheat the casserole. He would occasionally look out over the kitchen bar to where Jackson was working. The suite felt like so much more than just a place in that moment.

Jackson immediately set to work, teaking hte figures and spacing them out along the shelves. He decided it would be best to have them throughout the whole room, it would help unify it a little, as well as give the whole room a personal touch rather than just one section. He kept like figures together, like the ones wrapped up in little wooden blankets like his koala were together. And the pokemon ones, while he was sure some were destined to go to Silas, he put on display for now as well. Sea creatures had their own shelf while terrestial creatures were on another. He couldn't resist, however, putting an owl next to a little wolf. He debated whether he should ask Asher for the little bird, and put it with them so they could all at least be together in one form, but somehow it felt wrong. He had taken notice of how Asher had cleaned his kitchen and microwave before starting, and he felt a flutter of fond appreciation grow in his chest for the man. He was taking a lot of extra steps, clearly for Jackson's benefit, and it made him feel really welcomed and important. He hadn't felt like that in a while.

He hadn't once eaten at the actual table, choosing instead the bar on the occasions when Jackson has brought him one of his always delicious meals. It feels appropriate to have his first meal in the place with Jackson. Once the casserole was hot enough he looked for something to go with it. The cupboards were pretty much bare, but he did find some bottled waters. He went through the cleaning process for the table and then set out two plates, the casserole with a serving spoon, and the bottled waters before making his way over to the living room. "Wow." He looked around and it honestly seemed like a different place. "Looks like someone actually lives here."(edited)

Jackson had just taken a step back to examine his work, and like always, he was finding tiny little flaws and details and was now making micro-adjustments to the configuration of a few of the figures when Asher came back into the room. Despite it not being perfect yet, the fact that Asher seemed to like what was going on so far made Jackson relax just a tiny bit. Maybe he didn't need to adjust everything to perfection today. He did finish with the figures he was working with though, before he stepped back. His eyes caught the little wolf with the little owl again, and he had to force himself to turn away. When was it going to stop hurting so much, he wondered? Every little thing seemed to remind him of what he'd lost, and distractions only lasted a few moments before he was reminded yet again. "You like it?" He asked Asher, not fishing for compliments, but rather fishing for another distraction. Anything, really, to keep his mind from spiralling any further.

"I really do. Feels like a home." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Never really looked at my stuff all at once. They're not too bad huh?" The little critters had been his secret friends, but he'd never really 'looked' at them. "Thanks. Wouldn'tna done it myself." He rubbed his neck again. "Got food ready. Wanna eat."

Jackson nodded in agreement. "They're amazing, Sir." He assured. They really brighten up the place." He stated, and as he looked over at the table he was endeared by how Asher had even set the table and everything. "Yeah, let's eat." He agreed, making his way over to the table to sit.

Asher hurried over to pull out a chair for his guest. He suddenly felt like this place was more than just four walls. It was his home. A home that Jackson had helped him build. It all started with that painting. As he pulled out his own chair and sat he looked over at the painting and smiled. "This is the first time I had someone over for dinner." He didn't mean just here at Lima. He'd lived a solitary life since leaving home. Sure he'd go to a bar with co-workers or grab some food off the roach coach with them, but sharing a meal in his own home? This was a first. And he liked it. "So... umm.... how's classes going?" Alright so he needed to work on his small talk.

Jackson sat down and offered an awkward smile in thanks for Asher pulling the chair out for him. The switch picked up his fork and began to slowly separate the components of his food. It wasn't something he did all the time, but it was a habit that carried over from his childhood. If he wasn't feeling particularly hungry, he would take his time sorting his food, and eat by making sure he had a little bit of everything in each bite. It took way longer, but often his mind was so engaged in it he'd be able to get a good portion of it down before he had to stop. "Classes are... well, I don't think I'm failing, at the very least." He finished, realizing he was behind on at least two assignments already and there was some reading he had to do for a different class.

Ash watched as Jackson picked apart the casserole organizing all of the ingredients. He knew it wasn't because the food was bad. One, because it was delicious and more importantly because he made it. If Asher had made it he'd be worried. He figured it was something else... probably still feeling the pain about this guy he'd broken up with. He at casserole while listening. "I was never very good in school and it's been years now. Just weird getting used to homework. Homework! I'm too old for homework." He exaggerated hoping he could maybe bring a smile to his friend's face.

[s7vencity]

Vmon/Taejon 001

Modern day witches - ©soupsol

It’s late.

Well not so late that the herbal shop would be closed and in turn render Taehyung’s trip completely useless.

But late enough for Namjoon, the owner to raise an eyebrow as to why anyone would show up five minutes before he’s about to lock up.

The door chimes when Taehyung pushes it open and a gush of wind rushes in along with him, causing the various charms hanging from the ceiling to sway about gently.

He’s immediately hit with the scent of dried herbs, wood and incense and relaxes his hunched shoulders at the warmth slowly seeping into his pores.

“Ah Taehyung-ssi, I should’ve known it was you, hello.” Namjoon appears from behind the beaded curtains, giving him a dimpled smile as he settles near the counter.

His tall broad frame is drowned by an oversized black top with exaggerated sleeves that cover his hands entirely. A single choker sits around his neck and the way the lights above him bounce off his blonde hair, gives it a soft glow.

Taehyung thinks he’s beautiful.

“Uh h-hi, sorry for coming so late.” Taehyung squirms a little in embarrassment, his cheeks pink as he looks at Namjoon from behind thick lashes, feeling shy under his gaze.

“It’s alright, I’m used to your strange hours by now, although this is the latest you’ve ever come.” Namjoon chuckles; he doesn’t look annoyed, even though he probably should be.

If anything his smile just seems to grow wider and Taehyung simply rules that to him being a loyal regular customer, rather than getting his hopes up that he’s been looking forward to seeing him.

“Yeah it’s sort of an emergency, I’m out of chamomile buds you see and it’s for a potion.” Taehyung hasn’t been able to sleep properly for about a week now, his usually glowing sun kissed skin looks dull, the dark circles under his eyes are prominent and overall, he just feels like a zombie.

Being a university student through assignment season and working a part time job has made insomnia his best friend.

Luckily for him, he’d finally managed to perfect the recipe to his sleeping potion and now that he’s submitted his last essay for the semester, Taehyung wants to spend the entire weekend catching up on precious sleep.

He was about halfway through taking out all the ingredients to start, when he noticed he was low on chamomile buds, which is a vital part of his potion.

Taehyung knew Namjoon’s shop would be closing soon and that it’d be cutting it close running there now but he really needed those buds (and would take any excuse to see him too).

So with a tired groan, he clumsily shoved on his boots and coat, grabbed his backpack and keys then bolted out of the door.

“School giving you stress huh?” Namjoon asks sympathetically and Taehyung sighs with a nod. “I remember those days, pulling all nighters and long library sessions, it’s not easy. But you’ll get through it, you’re a hard worker and I believe in you.”

Taehyung’s face flames at the compliment and he averts his gaze, mumbling a pathetic string of sounds that loosely resembles a thanks and Namjoon giggles.

If it isn’t already obvious, Taehyung likes him.

He always tells himself that he’ll be confident, that he’ll look Namjoon in the eye one of these day and tell him he’s the cutest witch he’s ever seen and finally ask him out on a date.

But then the second he sees Namjoon’s pretty dimples, those deep brown eyes and plump rosy lips. His brain scrambles, he starts to sweat and his heart feels like it’s going to explode because there’s absolutely no way that he could do it.

Namjoon comes round from behind the counter and beckons Taehyung to follow him.

They walk towards two large floor to ceiling wooden shelves, covering the old burgundy walls. They’re stacked with jars filled with a variety of natural herbal ingredients that Namjoon grows in his garden at home.

He’s a green witch who’d gotten the genius idea to combine his love for nature and plants to start a business, making his trade by selling great quality herbs for the local witches.

Jimin recommended his shop to him after Taehyung complained about needing a new place to buy from because he’s sure Ms Kang was ripping him off (which she was).

Taehyung had then been confused how he’d never heard of Namjoon’s shop, especially since it was so close to his apartment. But Jimin said he’d only been there for a few months yet already his business was booming because of the quality and reasonable prices. Plus the owner was apparently a sweetheart.

So he trusted his friend’s judgment and decided one day that he’d visit. It’s a quaint little place that has all the essentials he would need; from herbs, to candles, crystals, essential oils.

“Hi there, do you need any help?” A deep voice had asked from beside him and Taehyung turned to tell the person he’s fine but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Namjoon had smiled at him, his hair was ash blonde at the time and he had glitter on his lids. He was wearing soft green overalls and a cream t-shirt underneath it with a choker around his neck.

The crush was almost instant.

“Is it just chamomile you need?” Namjoon asks, grabbing a jar from the shelf, his sleeves roll back revealing his large slender hands and glossy black nails as he turns to Taehyung expectantly.

“Uh yes, I stocked up pretty recently so I’m good for a while.” Namjoon nods and hands Taehyung the jar as they head back to the counter so he can pay.

Suddenly there’s a loud rumble coming from outside, followed by a few splats of rain hitting the concrete.

“Oh no.” Taehyung groans, just his luck, of course it’d start raining when he was out with no umbrella or coat that has a hood.

“It’s raining?” Namjoon frowns, seemingly sharing Taehyung’s pain. “I only bought a light jacket today and I don’t have an umbrella, fuck I’m going to be soaked.”

He sighs frustratedly, pouting a little as he bags up Taehyung’s shopping and takes the money he hands over, punching the code for the till to open in a sulk.

Taehyung looks at him nervously, he remembers Namjoon telling him once that he lives at least 30 minutes away from his shop, which is the only downside of the location. With the way the rain was starting to come down, there’s no way he wouldn’t get sick by the time he gets home.

Honestly, Taehyung would never forgive himself, if he didn’t at least try to help him.

He bites his lip, feeling nervous at what he’s about to ask. His heart pounds loudly in his ears and he almost forgets to say thank you when Namjoon hands him his change and shopping bag.

“Do you maybe want to go back to my apartment with me?” Namjoon’s eyebrows raise in surprise and his eyes bulge like saucers, making Taehyung’s ears burn violently at how suggestive his words sound. “No, no, not like that, I-I mean, it’s just that I live fairly close to your shop, if you wanted to maybe wait out the rain... I’d be happy to have you.”

When Namjoon doesn’t respond after a long moment, Taehyung wants to curl into a ball of shame and humiliation. Why did he have to open his mouth, who even says that? Now he just looks like a creep.

Oh God, what if he’s banned from his shop now because of this? He’ll probably wake up tomorrow to posters of his face everywhere saying ‘beware of this pervert’ and be shunned from the town or something.

If only the ground would swallow him up right now.

“Okay.”

“Oh God I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’ll leave no-.” Taehyung freezes, looking up at Namjoon with wide eyes. “Wait what?”

Namjoon chuckles and Taehyung’s stomach flips at the sound.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind coming with you.”

“Really?” Taehyung can imagine the shock painted on his face right now, as he looks at him with big hopeful eyes and parted lips, Jimin always told him he resembles an excited puppy when he does that. Which must be true because Namjoon looks endeared.

“I was wondering when you’d asked me out, sure it’s not how I’d hoped but it’s a start.” He smiles adorably and Taehyung can’t help it, he smiles too, in fact it turns into a full boxy grin.

He can’t believe it, of all the impossible things that could happen to him, he never thought Namjoon would be interested in him too.

He always believed his lingering smile and attempts to prolong conversation were just him being friendly. How he always seem to have what Taehyung needed and sometimes gives him a discount without a reason.

Which he knows now.

For once it’s Namjoon’s turn to blush under his intense gaze and he scratches at his nape to avoid Taehyung’s eyes.

“I’ll just go close up and get my coat.” He says, before disappearing behind the beaded door leaving a grinning Taehyung who punches the air happily.

[dexter-wells-beiste]

I Owe You a Painting || Jacksher

Who - @jacksonxschuester and @asherkarofsky Where - Asher’s suite When - A quite weeknight What - Jackson delivers the painting he promised to paint for Asher. He helps make the empty suite into more of a home. 

Jackson had actually finished the painting a few days ago, but he'd gotten ambitious and decided to try oil paints for this piece, and he'd wanted to give it lots of time to dry before delivering it. Taking inspiration from some Bob Ross episodes, he'd created a sweeping prairie landscape with a duck pond and a farm house. There were a few trees and bushes and flowers, but plenty of open blue sky and a worn, homely feel to the house. He'd painted it on a 18" x 24" canvas and had signed his name in the bottom corner. Overall, he was pretty proud of how it turned out, but he was still a little nervous about Asher's reaction to it as he stood outside the Dom's door and knocked. He hoped it would be well received.

Everyone had told him he would settle in and get more things and that the giant suite wouldn't feel so giant anymore. That had not happened yet. Mostly he ate in the cafeteria and spent any time out of classes in bed sleeping. Today he'd decided to do some whittling in his suite since the workshop didn't have the light he needed. There were small curls of wood on the kitchen bar where he was working. He'd just put the small creature on the bar top to look at when there was a knock on the door. He opened it wondering who would be coming to see him. He was happy to see that it was Jackson. He just didn't know what to say. "Hi." He even waved before feeling awkward and letting his hand drop. "Oh... oh come in."

Jackson forced a smile onto his face when he saw Asher. "Hi." He greeted, and stepped in when he was invited. He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then remembered the reason for his visit. "I um... I finished it." He said, turning the painting around in his hands for Asher to see. "It's my first attempt with oil paintings, so it's not perfect, but I hope you like it and even if you don't it's okay because I can always try to do a better one..." He rambled.

Asher hadn't expected to get the painting yet. Surely Jackson had so much other more important things than him, but here it was right in front of him. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the painting was perfect. "It... it's perfect. It's exactly like the place I dream of having some day. Like that's exactly it." He reached out for the painting but hesitated. "Can I... Is it okay to hold it?"

Jackson's expression shifted into a softer, more genuine smile as Asher took in the painting. He was relieved that the Dom seemed to like it. "Yeah, it's totally dry, you can hold it." He assured. "You really do like it?" He asked, seeking confirmation and reassurance.

"Like it? No. I love it." He carefully took the painting in his hands walking closer to the large living room window to see it in the light. "How did you know this was exactly what I saw in my head? I have this dream... kind of dumb I know, but I'd love to own a place like this someday. A place to call my own, you know?"

"I didn't know." Jackson shrugged. "I just ran with the idea you gave me and this is what came out. It does look like a nice place to live though. Peaceful..." His smile turned sad as he realized he'd never even given any thought to the type of house he'd like to have someday. Not since Steven had passed, anyway. "I hope you get to have a place like this in the future, Sir."

"Yeah peaceful." He turned to the other man. "I hope so. Gotta be careful with dreams though." He hated that he couldn't just be one of those hopeful, optimistic people. He blames his parents for ruining that for him. "Will you help me figure out the best place to hang it." He looked around at the suite. It was very.... white. The painting would start to make this place feel a little like home.

Jackson nodded, "Of course I'll help." He said, glossing right over the bit about being careful with dreams. He'd given up having any sort of dream himself. He didn't want to bring Asher down by talking about that. "What about that wall there?" He pointed to one of the walls in the living room. It was opposite the couch, so that you could see it if you were sitting there, and the shape and size of the canvas was very appropriate to the size of wall it was

He nodded. He realized instantly that if he was on the couch he'd be able to see it and also it there it would be visible as soon as he walked in the door. "Here hold it. I'll get my tools." He went to the kitchen bar, but stopped and turned back to look at Jackson. "Thank you. Thank you for this." He grabbed his tools and walked back over. Gesturing around the suite, he laughed. "As you can see I'm not so good at, decorating. Personalizing." That was the better word. He didn't need 'decorating' but he did sort of crave personalization in his life.

Jackson waited patiently while Asher grabbed his tools, and upon observation he found that Asher's statement was accurate. There weren't a lot of personal touches around the place, except for the pile of wood shavings and some sort of carving on the counter. Jackson assumed that's what he'd been working on when he arrived, but now that he knew the wood shavings were there he was itching to sweep them up and put them out of sight. "I could help you with that, if you like?" He offered suddenly, unsure of exactly way. Maybe he just needed to feel like he was useful, needed by someone.

Ash was pulling out his small hammer and some finishing nails that should do the job to hold up the painting when Jackson spoke again. "Hmm? Oh.. oh really? You'd do that?" He looked around again. "Don't even know where to start." He shrugged and kept his gaze down on the hammer in his hands that he was spinning around. "Used to have a little picture of me an' Silas and Dave as kids, but I lost it." It had been the only thing he'd had to remind him of his family. And losing it was the very last time he ever cried.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind." He said. "Is there a way to find a copy of that picture, maybe? Would Silas or Dave have a copy?" He asked, already planning on asking Silas for any photos of Asher as a kid to frame. "We could also paint the walls to whatever colours you like, and add things related to stuff you like." He motioned over to the carving on the counter. "Do you do a lot of that sort of thing? You could display your work on your bookshelves and such.

"Don't know. Maybe Dave. Si kind of left in a hurry. Don't think our folks let him bring much when he came here." He frowned. "They won't mind me paintin'?" He been worried about the holes he was about to put in the wall and already had a plan on how he'd repair those when the time came. He laughed and smiled at Jackson. "Don't if they're as good as all that, but might be nice to look at 'em." He looked over at the creature on the bar. He found a lot of happiness in making them even as silly as they were.

Jackson made a note to check with Dave, also. Just in case. "They don't mind paint and things like hanging pictures or hooks or decor, they just don't want anyone doing extensive damage that'll cost a lot to repair or render the suite unusable for any period of time." He informed, remembering one incident when he was a teenager that his father got very heated about. "One time a student knocked out a couple of walls to combine all the bedrooms together. My father was not pleased. That was way before I came here, though." Curious, Jackson made his way over to the counter. "Give yourself a little credit, not everyone can carve things out of wood like this. I'm sure they're..." He trailed off when he saw what the little creature was. A tiny bird sat on the countertop near the pile of shavings, and Jackson felt his heart jump into his throat. "... great." He finished his sentence, carefully picking up the carving and examining it closer. The word pajarito played over and over in his head in Mateo's voice, 'little bird' it meant. The tears were stinging at his eyes despite his valiant effort to make them stop.

Asher's eyes went wide. Knocking down the walls was a huge undertaking and could actually be downright dangerous. Generally with a large building like this the load bearing walls were all around the outside, but still. "I don't even use the space I have. Can't imagine needing more. "They aren't too hard. Learned when I was a boy. They do..." He noticed that Jackson had stopped talking and that he had tears in his eyes. "Sugar, are you okay?" He dipped his head to get in between the other man and the small wooden bird taking shape out of the wood.

Jackson took in a shuddering breath and tried very hard to steady his emotions. "Fine. I'm fine." He insisted, despite it not being true in the slightest. "It's nothing. It's a stupid thing, actually." He rambled. "Little bird is the nickname Sir Mateo gave me, that's all." He said, knowing Asher would want an explanation, but Jackson felt really stupid for such a small thing affecting him this much. Sometimes it hit him like a sack of bricks, the magnitude of losing yet another Dom, and in those moments Jackson found it really hard to breathe.

Asher didn't hesitate for a moment. He snatched the bird off the counter and shoved it in his pocket. "It's not stupid." He obviously had no idea of this reaction when he decided to carve a bird, but he hated that it had caused him to remember this pain. "I'm sorry."

Jackson shook his head. "It is stupid. And it's not your fault." He insisted, and then his hands where against his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. He hated how fragile  he was. He took a few steps away and took a breath, "I'm sorry..."

Asher didn't want to argue but he didn't think it was stupid at all. He'd never been in love before and he couldn't image having it and losing it. That whole 'better to have and lost' seemed like bullshit to him. He stayed quiet for a while and then spoke in a quiet voice. "Wanna get this painting up and then help me pick out my next carving should be?"

Jackson could feel his skin start to break under his fingernails, and the sharp pain brought him a brief moment of respite from the mental pain. He heard Asher speak and for a moment, he wasn't sure what the Dom had said. He turned, wiping at his eyes. "Maybe I should just go?" He asked, not wanting to further bring Asher's mood down.

Ash saw the way Jackson's body was stiff Nd he was scratching roughly at his arm. It must have hurt the way he was pressing in. "I really like having you here, but don't wanna make you stay if you're feelin' uncomfortable." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can I walk you home? Make sure you're safe."

Safe. The word rung hollow in Jackson's ears. Sure, he might be away from any immediate harm, but safe? Could he really count himself as safe until he was claimed? Mateo had promised him safety... he had promised to do whatever it took to include Jackson in his family, but when the time came it turned out there was a line he wouldn't even consider crossing. Jackson realized it had been a minute or two since Asher had spoken, and he still hadn't replied. "Um... I... I'll stay if you want. You needed help, right? I can help. I can be useful." The words were mostly spilling from his mouth as they came into his head, no filter in between to remind him what was socially appropriate and what was not.

Ash wished he was his brother in this moment. Silas would have the words to comfort Jackson. But he just waited. "You've been so damn helpful to me Jackson. I gotta tell you, don't really got friends." He shrugged. "You're probably not supposed to decide this one sided, but you're my best friend Jackson. Don't know what I woulda done here without you. So yeah, if you want to stay, I could use your help." He didn't know if that meant Jackson was useful, but it damn well did mean he was needed. Asher really needed him.

Jackson felt himself tear up again. Asher considered him his best friend? It felt good, but it also made him feel a little guilty. Should he be putting more into this friendship than he has been? Asher really must not have had many friends if he considered Jackson to be the best one... He wiped at his eyes again and just nodded. "Okay... I'll stay." He said softly. "Tell me what you need me to do, Sir."

Ash smiled. He felt like he'd maybe unwittingly manipulated Jackson to stay, but it was hard to muster any guilt over that. For whatever reason, he just felt like his friend belonged right there for the time being. The suite felt like something more than a place to rest from time to time when he was there. "Let me just tap a nail in here." He did just that and then hung the painting up before looking over at Jackson. "So is it straight?"

Jackson just watched as Asher hammered in the nail and hung the painting. He let out what could only be described as a half chuckle/half sniffle. "It's about as straight as I am." He informed, which was to say, not at all. "Needs to go a little to the left."

Ash let out a snort. The years away from his parents and their church as well as the same years spent working side by side with all sorts of people had freed him from most of his prejudices. The ones that remained only seemed to direct inside toward himself. He liked that the chuckle sounded even if there was a bit of a sniffle with it. It hinted at what a joyful sound he would make if he was truly happy. He tilted it to the left. "How's that?"

Jackson gave a thumb's up as he used the other hand to wipe his eyes. "Much better." He said. "Probably as good as you'll get it without using a level, anyway." He added.

"I'll probably order a better hanger. 'Fraid the nail will damage it long run. I'll get some wire and do it up right. Then I'll use a level." He stepped back and stood next to Jackson. "Ain't that beautiful. Best thing I've ever owned." He looked over to his friend. "So I got a bunch of these little wooden critters. But some's better than others. Help me pick some for the shelves?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Then I got some of that casserole you made me. We could share some if you want. Maybe watch somethin' on the tv?"

It warmed Jackson's heart that Asher loved the painting enough to think about things like whether or not the method of hanging would damage it. He had to admit, he liked the way it looked in this room. It was just a touch homier now, and soon Jackson hoped to make this place feel like a home to Asher. He got the sense that Asher didn't feel at home here yet, and that made him sad. "Sure, let's look at them." He said, "That all sounds good, Sir." He offered a smile. It was small, only lasting a second or two, but it was genuine.

"Hang on. Be right back." He had realized at the last moment that his room was in no state for Jackson to see it. Usually he was quite neat. After all it was easy to be neat when you didn't have a lot of things. But that morning he had been in a hurry to get to class and he knew for a fact there was a pair of underwear right there in the middle of the floor. He scooped them up and tossed them in the hamper on his way to grab his duffel bag. The little wooden figures rattled around inside. Once back he sat on the couch and unzipped the bag. And started to pull the little creatures and set them out one next to the other. "I know they're kinda silly."

Jackson sat on the couch while he waited, trying to calm his mind and heart. His fingernails naturally found their way to his skin again, using the sharp little pains as a distraction tool until he felt less like bursting into tears at any moment and more focused on his actual surroundings. When Asher returned, he tugged a sleeve over his arm to hide a particularly bad spot. As the little wooden figures made their appearance, Jackson's eyes widened. "They're not silly at all, Sir." he assured, "They're amazing..." He reached out for one, gently lifting it to get a closer look. "Is this... Vulpix? Like from Pokemon?" He asked.

Asher wasn't the type to blush and he didn't quite blush now, but he looked a lot more like an a shy boy then he ever did. "Oh... umm, yeah. Used to love Pokemon when I was little." He still loved it clearly, but it felt safer to couch it in terms of a childhood thing. "The folks decided Pokemon were demons and wouldn't let us watch." He shrugged. "Guess just feels good to defy 'em."

Jackson smiled, picturing a young Asher and Silas sneaking over to a friend's house to watch Pokemon after school. "I used to love Pokemon too. Still do, sorta. Guess I'm not as into it as I once was, though." He admitted. "These are really cute though." He said, looking over the rest of the figures. "I think you should display them all, honestly."

"I should give the Pokemon one's to Si. He loves all that stuff." He picked up the bundled up little koala bear and handed it to Jackson. "Okay. I'll put 'em on the shelf. Better than bangin' around in my bag huh? But umm... would you take this one?" It was like how he felt Jackson should be... bundled up and protected.

Jackson carefully took the little bear, smiling at it. "Are you sure?" He asked, already kind of in love with the little figurine. He wasn't particularly attached to bears or anything, but he adored the way this one was all cozied up, and the fact that Asher had made it made it all the more special.

"Positive. It'll make me happy and proud knowin' you got him." He smiled and nodded. "So which do you think you'd like doin' more..." He had taken some time to research OCD and there was this thing he read about how control over tasks was super important. "figuring out how they should look on the shelf or heatin' up the food? Or we could to 'em both together."

Jackson nodded. "I'll keep him safe, Sir. I promise." He said, and then at being given the option, Jackson blinked. He wasn't used to that. Normally, Doms would just give him an order and he'd happily follow it, feeling happy to at least be useful. "Um.. I could put these up on the shelf, Sir." He said, knowing he'd get an immense amount of satisfaction from deciding how to arrange them in the most aesthetically pleasing way.

"Cool." He chuckled. "Was hoping you'd say that. Don't know where to start with that kinda thing." He figured that because the food was prepared by Jackson, he would feel comfortable eating it. He went to the kitchen and started to pull out the food and then suddenly had a thought. He left the food in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of cleaner and gave the counters and microwave a good once over, even though they were already clean to his eyes. He scooped the wood shavings and put them in the garbage before finally starting to reheat the casserole. He would occasionally look out over the kitchen bar to where Jackson was working. The suite felt like so much more than just a place in that moment.

Jackson immediately set to work, teaking hte figures and spacing them out along the shelves. He decided it would be best to have them throughout the whole room, it would help unify it a little, as well as give the whole room a personal touch rather than just one section. He kept like figures together, like the ones wrapped up in little wooden blankets like his koala were together. And the pokemon ones, while he was sure some were destined to go to Silas, he put on display for now as well. Sea creatures had their own shelf while terrestial creatures were on another. He couldn't resist, however, putting an owl next to a little wolf. He debated whether he should ask Asher for the little bird, and put it with them so they could all at least be together in one form, but somehow it felt wrong. He had taken notice of how Asher had cleaned his kitchen and microwave before starting, and he felt a flutter of fond appreciation grow in his chest for the man. He was taking a lot of extra steps, clearly for Jackson's benefit, and it made him feel really welcomed and important. He hadn't felt like that in a while.

He hadn't once eaten at the actual table, choosing instead the bar on the occasions when Jackson has brought him one of his always delicious meals. It feels appropriate to have his first meal in the place with Jackson. Once the casserole was hot enough he looked for something to go with it. The cupboards were pretty much bare, but he did find some bottled waters. He went through the cleaning process for the table and then set out two plates, the casserole with a serving spoon, and the bottled waters before making his way over to the living room. "Wow." He looked around and it honestly seemed like a different place. "Looks like someone actually lives here."

Jackson had just taken a step back to examine his work, and like always, he was finding tiny little flaws and details and was now making micro-adjustments to the configuration of a few of the figures when Asher came back into the room. Despite it not being perfect yet, the fact that Asher seemed to like what was going on so far made Jackson relax just a tiny bit. Maybe he didn't need to adjust everything to perfection today. He did finish with the figures he was working with though, before he stepped back. His eyes caught the little wolf with the little owl again, and he had to force himself to turn away. When was it going to stop hurting so much, he wondered? Every little thing seemed to remind him of what he'd lost, and distractions only lasted a few moments before he was reminded yet again. "You like it?" He asked Asher, not fishing for compliments, but rather fishing for another distraction. Anything, really, to keep his mind from spiralling any further.

"I really do. Feels like a home." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Never really looked at my stuff all at once. They're not too bad huh?" The little critters had been his secret friends, but he'd never really 'looked' at them. "Thanks. Wouldn'tna done it myself." He rubbed his neck again. "Got food ready. Wanna eat."

Jackson nodded in agreement. "They're amazing, Sir." He assured. They really brighten up the place." He stated, and as he looked over at the table he was endeared by how Asher had even set the table and everything. "Yeah, let's eat." He agreed, making his way over to the table to sit.

Asher hurried over to pull out a chair for his guest. He suddenly felt like this place was more than just four walls. It was his home. A home that Jackson had helped him build. It all started with that painting. As he pulled out his own chair and sat he looked over at the painting and smiled. "This is the first time I had someone over for dinner." He didn't mean just here at Lima. He'd lived a solitary life since leaving home. Sure he'd go to a bar with co-workers or grab some food off the roach coach with them, but sharing a meal in his own home? This was a first. And he liked it. "So... umm.... how's classes going?" Alright so he needed to work on his small talk.

Jackson sat down and offered an awkward smile in thanks for Asher pulling the chair out for him. The switch picked up his fork and began to slowly separate the components of his food. It wasn't something he did all the time, but it was a habit that carried over from his childhood. If he wasn't feeling particularly hungry, he would take his time sorting his food, and eat by making sure he had a little bit of everything in each bite. It took way longer, but often his mind was so engaged in it he'd be able to get a good portion of it down before he had to stop. "Classes are... well, I don't think I'm failing, at the very least." He finished, realizing he was behind on at least two assignments already and there was some reading he had to do for a different class.

Ash watched as Jackson picked apart the casserole organizing all of the ingredients. He knew it wasn't because the food was bad. One, because it was delicious and more importantly because he made it. If Asher had made it he'd be worried. He figured it was something else... probably still feeling the pain about this guy he'd broken up with. He at casserole while listening. "I was never very good in school and it's been years now. Just weird getting used to homework. Homework! I'm too old for homework." He exaggerated hoping he could maybe bring a smile to his friend's face.

[fromkenari]

Waterloo Letters #3: A mass of fools and knaves

A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 1:04 AM to Henry H, Have you ever read any of Alexander Hamilton’s letters to John Laurens? What am I saying? Of course you haven’t. You’d probably be disinherited for revolutionary sympathies. Well, since I got the boot from the campaign, there is literally nothing for me to do but watch cable news (diligently chipping away at my brain cells by the day) and sort through all my old shit from college. Just looking at papers, thinking: Excellent, yes, I’m so glad I stayed up all night writing this for a 98 in the class, only to get summarily fired from the first job I ever had and exiled to my bedroom! Great job, Alex! Is this how you feel in the palace all the time? It fucking sucks, man. So anyway, I’m going through my college stuff, and I find this analysis I did of Hamilton’s wartime correspondence, and hear me out: I think Hamilton could have been bi. His letters to Laurens are almost as romantic as his letters to his wife. Half of them are signed “Yours” or “Affectionately yrs,” and the last one before Laurens died is signed “Yrs for ever.” I can’t figure out why nobody talks about the possibility of a Founding Father being not straight (outside of Chernow’s biography, which is great btw, see attached bibliography). I mean, I know why, but. Anyway, I found this part of a letter he wrote to Laurens, and it made me think of you. And me, I guess: The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you … Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that. History, huh? Bet we could make some. Affectionately yrs, slowly going insane, Alex, First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 4:18 AM to A Alex, First Son of Masturbatory Historical Readings: The phrase “see attached bibliography” is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me. Every time you mention your slow decay inside the White House, I can’t help but feel it’s my fault, and I feel absolutely shit about it. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to turn up at a thing like that. I got carried away; I didn’t think. I know how much that job meant to you. I just want to … you know. Extend the option. If you wanted less of me, and more of that—the work, the uncomplicated things—I would understand. Truly. In any event … Believe it or not, I have actually done a bit of reading on Hamilton, for a number of reasons. First, he was a brilliant writer. Second, I knew you were named after him (the pair of you share an alarming number of traits, by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c). And third, some saucy tart once tried to impugn my virtue against an oil painting of him, and in the halls of memory, some things demand context. Are you angling for a revolutionary soldier role-play scenario? I must inform you, any trace of King George III blood I have would curdle in my very veins and render me useless to you. Or are you suggesting you’d rather exchange passionate letters by candlelight? Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? I think perhaps Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. If you did decide to take the option mentioned at the start of this email, I do hope you haven’t read the rest of this rubbish. Regards, Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft

Re: A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 5:36 AM to Henry H, Please don’t be stupid. No part of any of this will ever be uncomplicated. Anyway, you should be a writer. You are a writer. Even after all this, I still always feel like I want to know more of you. Does that sound crazy? I just sit here and wonder, who is this person who knows stuff about Hamilton and writes like this? Where does someone like that even come from? How was I so wrong? It’s weird because I always know things about people, gut feelings that usually lead me in more or less the right direction. I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star? I wanna see you again and soon. I keep reading that one paragraph over and over again. You know which one. I want you back here with me. I want your body and I want the rest of you too. And I want to get the fuck out of this house. Watching June and Nora on TV doing appearances without me is torture. We have this annual thing at my dad’s lake house in Texas. Whole long weekend off the grid. There’s a lake with a pier, and my dad always cooks something fucking amazing. You wanna come? I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty sitting out there in the country. It’s the weekend after next. If Shaan can talk to Zahra or somebody about flying you into Austin, we can pick you up from there. Say yes? Yrs, Alex P.S. Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky—1958: Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 8:22 PM to A Alex, If I’m north, I shudder to think where in God’s name we’re going. I’m ruminating on identity and your question about where a person like me comes from, and as best as I can explain it, here’s a story: Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery. At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince. His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole. Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too. So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right. Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.” I’m in for the lake house. I must admit, I’m glad you’re getting out of the house. I worry you may burn the thing down. Does this mean I’ll be meeting your father? I miss you. x Henry P.S. This is mortifying and maudlin and, honestly, I hope you forget it as soon as you’ve read it. P.P.S. From Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen, 1899: May the terrific U.S.A. be meanwhile not a brute to you. I feel in you a confidence, dear Boy–which to show is a joy to me. My hopes and desires and sympathies right heartily and most firmly, go with you. So keep up your heart, and tell me, as it shapes itself, your (inevitably, I imagine, more or less weird) American story. May, at any rate, tutta quella gente be good to you.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 239-247). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

[rachellarson50-blog]

Custom Stretched Canvases: How to pick the ideal custom stretched canvas?

Oil paintings, and that can be original pieces of art, possess a number of advantages over mass produced framed and matted prints. While limited edition prints, autographed and numbered by the artist, therefore are valuable and collectible prints that is seen in virtually any dwelling goods or decoration keep are produced and have no value beyond that of the framework along with mat. About the flip side, stretch canvas paintings hold their value and quality over the years; they are versatile, dramatically fashionable and remarkably affordable.Prints can yellow and deteriorate with age, however acrylic paintings are highly durable and can hold their shade and quality when properly kept and retained out of direct sunlight or strong artificial light. Oil paintings that are kept and exhibited in a low-humidity environment and at a temperature, that will be average to the majority of residential and commercial preferences, will endure for generations. Canvas oil paintings are original artwork which can be handed down from 1 generation to the next.Oil paintings have a very depth and dimension that can't be seen in mass produced prints. They have feel and layers of nuance which create sure they are individualistic because each canvas is painted by hand. Whether the artist chooses to paint conventional renderings these as portraits and landscapes or summary contemporary canvases, an acrylic painting can bring unique artistic and style intensity to some space. The most nature of an oil painting which makes it a more timeless and also wellchosen center thing which may enhance any cosmetic style.Paintings and prints are traditionally framed and framed, with the frame enhancing and replicate the style of the painting. Frameless stretch canvas paintings present a remarkable and new approach for showing pieces of art, whether the painting's subject is contemporary or traditional. The sides of the stretch canvas painting are all painted to match the background of their painting, and they also got. The frame-less demonstration brings dimension and depth with a presence, with no frame buffering the painting's visible impact. Stretch framed canvas paintings three or four panels offer you alternatives for display and arrangement that will accentuate surfaces or generate a unique focus. The panels might be employed or enmasse to decor. Frameless canvas acrylic paintings are frequently less expensive than framed prints, even at which all of the markup enters the frame , and they are undoubtedly less expensive than styled first works of art. You'll locate frame less canvas oil paintings in every selling prices out of online and retail origins as well as in demonstrations that'll add a radically one of a kind invoice into some area, whether cosmetic influences prefer traditional or contemporary sources.They state a picture paints a thousand words? We consent, and when your talking modern wall graphics for the house you cant go far wrong than considering a canvas artwork. Additionally, there is an abundance of canvas art on the web galleries small and big out there - all of them offering various solutions at various rates. The following informative post is targeted toward providing a balanced view of what is hot and what isn't at the wonderful world of canvases. We expect these somewhat abstract phrases of knowledge will help you in your search to pick out a excellent canvas impress to get yourself.A picture printing, also called a extended canvas or canvas artwork, may be that the result of a graphic printed onto a canvas that's elongated, or gallery wrapped onto a frame as well as shown. Many sellers offer canvas art. Stretched canvas takes the headache from the process for your buyer. The canvas will likely be'wall prepared' outside of this shipping vessel. But frequently you are able to save yourself a little bit of dollars buy requesting the own canvas printing to become shipped unframed, your printing will probably arrive in a tube and then you will should hand build a framework before hanging out. I would recommend investing in a modest extra of your hard-won cash for getting your canvas printing framed. This way your leaving it for the pros to get what they do best.Historically reproductions of unique artwork have been printed onto canvas for many decades together with what's commonly referred as offset printing in the commerce. In the past few years that the industry has recently now exploded with all the growing popularity of printers and electronic photographic apparatus. Significant format printers may publish to large sizes as much as sixty inches in diameter. This size and scale of picture printing has meant that an almost endless scope for design and decoration of both photographic images and artwork. Nowadays, Head into some contemporary restaurant and also you may nearly guarantee that you may discover an immense macro focused image of this chef's latest culinary delight. The increase of the internet in the digital age has had huge effects for those professional services which canvas art shops can offer to their buyers. Online 2.0 has meant creation of user generated applications programs that permit everyone to load up photos, do essential effects to all those pictures and reproduce them as Photograph art prints. Many online canvas art vendors do nothing other than produce art created by consumers of their websites. Others have huge artwork catalogues that might be reproduced'on demand' for customers rather. We recommend when considering that company order your canvas artwork out of check their delivery programs. Some supply services within 48 hours others 2 weeks! Go for the 48 hour selection as a week can often run unto weeks since the task builds up within chaotic periods.The process of decorating a contemporary canvas print takes expertise and skill to attain a professional excellent finish. Be certain the print is tightly stretched over around the sides of the box stretcher framework whenever you obtain it. Good stretcher frames will probably likely be professionally, accurately cut with a sloping profile which minimises contact with the front face of the canvas, steering clear of the impression marks. With this incline you will find that over years in place of months the belief indicates eventually become so awful as to destroy the true canvas film. They should also be elastic, supplied with tensioning wedges in every inside corner that can be exploited in slightly allowing occasional re-tightening of the canvas. To choose the perceived risk out from the'purchasing canvas artwork' equation look for sellers offering no money back guarantees subsequent reception for a time period. Not only can you check out the caliber against that which we recommend within this report however, you may even'stay with' the picture wall artwork to get a few times to check it fits your wall décor and modern furnishings.So which sort of canvas art seller is most useful I hear you cry? We do not have a answer for this matter but we still now have a few ideas on things to watch out for. Many wall canvas sellers encounter from a printing background... wonderful you could think, what could go wrong? Well have a think, and take a have a look and examine it with additional canvas sellers. You will see a few similarities since they'll probably acquire images from stock photography sellers. As an item of'artwork' these picture prints will probably be worthless over the long term. Because there is no artist they deficiency just a little ethics because they'll be limited editions accepted by the artist! Look out for advice on musicians, limited edition numbers and thus forth, this is usually a great sign for the wellbeing of value for your own canvas wall artwork. Make sure your canvas artwork retailer has one foot in the printing industry and the other dipped into the art realm reef! As canvas continues to acquire popularity at the fine art and photographic digital printing industry, the multitude of brands and varieties will last and flood flooding industry in an attempt to make the most with this increasingly desirable consumable. Current market research indicates that inkjet canvas is now selling three times longer than inkjet paper, which traditionally, never become the circumstance. This swing in market trends implies that artwork consumers are impressed with the aesthetic allure and novelty of digitally printed custom canvas since it's a relatively new, yet logical moderate for fine art reproduction. As an entrepreneur running a print making business, picking an inkjet canvas that will probably soon likely function as the base for your reputation and long term success minus the collection of possibilities, can be a daunting or even impossible job. Regardless, it's the duty of the printmaker to comprehend and examine custom canvas to source the highest quality to ensure sustainable-revenue and also the integrity for their enterprise. Therefore the purpose of this report will be to provide printmakers together with the proper tools to evaluate inkjet canvas based upon general data and quantifiable attributes; in an attempt to produce higher-quality, more-archival, and more sellable fine art custom canvas prints.In order to properly assess inkjet canvas for the printmaking firm, a number of criteria must be assessed and considered. This criterion might be simplified to four principal classes: decorative appeal, endurance, production/business practicality, along with also brand institution. Analyzing multiple brand names and forms of inkjet canvas is the very best thing that you can perform for the small business enterprise, your customers, and the fine art industry as a total . That being said, the first thing that you'll want to do in order to begin is buy sample cloth out of several prominent inkjet canvas makers. Make this article are the checklist or guide to walk you although the major test process.This group was listed above most others since it's the single most essential aspect for assessing your chief,"residence" ink-jet canvas. The simple fact is that this is the fine art industry and if you are the artist, a gallery operator, a writer, or a printmaker, the ultimate worldwide aim is to promote artwork. Art is mainly sold like a result of its aesthetic appeal and also also the derivative of this image demonstration. To put it differently, the larger your own prints seem, the greater your artists will probably promote, which can naturally lead in printing business. If the artists that you publish for are certain which you're reproducing their work from the absolute most aesthetically appealing fashion and this is reflected in their printing earnings, you can make sure that they can continue to employ your services. On the flip side, if the artist decides to search round or happens to come in contact with an alternative printmaker who's obviously producing superior inkjet canvas prints, then the artist is going to undoubtedly likely be gone in a minute. The single means to be sure you are producing probably the most aesthetically appealing inkjet canvas prints, is to try out various ink-jet canvases for colour gamut, Dmax (optical density), resolution, feel, and burden reduction Why don't we attentively consider every one of these features individually.Color Gamut - In this competitive industry only offering great color reproduction isn't enough. You need to give the best shade reproduction. Even though precise color gamut dimension tools, like a Colorimeter or even spectrophotometer may and needs to be used when available, the nude eye is generally adequate to tell apart a more superior custom canvas canvas. Print a color target, that is composed of a few different color stains, on every single inkjet canvas which you're analyzing. Use these aims to evaluate every individual color to figure out which custom colour produces the best colour gamut. It is also recommended to print the exact very same, vibrant image on each custom canvas and also determine that produces one of the very vibrant colors. To find added details on this please view publisher site. Dmax can be a measure of utmost density of a image's shade but specifically its black density. Again, the most precise dimensions might be obtained with a densitometer, but also the nude eye will suffice if this equipment is not available for your requirements personally. When discussing paper and inks, D-Max is commonly defined as the blackest. Black density is in analyzing the quality of paper, ink, inkjet canvas, and also even printmakers potentially one of the most discernable feature. Thus attaining the blackest black possible are absolutely the absolute most critical factor for each fine art printmaker. Inside this industry, like colour gamut, presenting unions is not enough. You want to offer you the blackest blacks possible.Resolution - This identifies into the smallest discernable pixels or dots, commonly measured as dpi or dots per inch. In connection with fine art reproduction, it's a measurement of the"fineness" of depth in a published image. Resolution is really just a crucially important feature simply since devoid of"fineness" and detail, image quality is compromised. No matter how accurate your hues will be or your black can be if the image appears blurry in the place of tidy and sharp, you may have decreased as its perceived price will be negatively affected by it, your chances of marketing that printing. This will dissuade the artist out of obtaining true market value for his do the job, which will cause one to the printmaker to drop small business to a rival who uses a canvas with superior resolution. It should be said that custom made canvases with excess texture may compromise resolution and must really be averted. The extreme slopes and valleys at the canvas texture can bring about ink into"bleed", or run, which can blur second aspects of an printed image.Texture - The best feel of inkjet yarn is the one that is going to exude an all natural custom canvas appearance, with no compromising resolution or reducing the amount of viewable angels in that your art might be valued. The latter results from any type of glossy finish onto a highly textured custom canvas. The end result is that a"glowing" affect due to light reflecting off of those glistening peaks and valleys of this reflective inkjet canvas. Sparkling ink-jet canvas prints no longer take about the attributes of a first painting that causes art consumers to perceive them cheap reproductions. In an industry driven by quality and allure, cheap reproductions won't promote and will likely undoubtedly also be detrimental to your printmakers' reputation. All things considered, even should a inkjet canvas is an obvious leader in color gamut, D Max, and resolution, it could have excess feel that alone can compromise caliber. So, texture that is excess should be tested for by printmakers. This is sometimes done in 2 manners. First, print images with depth and search to get a deficiency of crispness and picture cleanliness . Work with a semi-glossy or glossy post-print protective coating and search for amazing when light reflects off the surface. It is crucial to keep in your mind that texture is a subjective characteristic . As a printmaker, it is recommended to advise your customers to make a texture conclusion based upon objective information which could improve the sale ability of the prints rather than attempt to deliver particular custom canvas textures to attract each and every artist's private preference.Longevity identifies how long a inkjet canvas print can continue until it starts to noticeably deteriorate. This is an absolutely critical element in deciding on which inkjet canvas to use for the business. In order to appropriately tag your self a"fine art printmaker", you need to produce fine artwork prints. By definition, fine art prints are all expected to keep up their structure for decades. Fine artwork prints that deteriorate in the short-term assert no significance and were fact, not fine art prints to begin with. So, longevity has to be taken under consideration in every printmaker business plan as attempting to sell prints will without a doubt subscribe to the passing of your future company in the fine art industry.

[operationugawts]

I haven't used my Moho Animation software in a bit. I should change that in the new year.

A character is facing left or right most of the time. Drawing things close to symmetrical on a straight shot is surprisingly irritating for me. xD;

Anything magical. A lot of the tv shows I watched growing up played into the magical systems I have today. I also roleplayed online a lot so the characters from those days are still being used!

Dresses in general. The beauty usually comes from the details and my hands like to cramp up just at the sight of all the embellishes. I don't have super complicated character designs...yet.Probably due to my animation background.

I think for every 10 sketches I draw, I'd render like 3 and maybe one of those gets to see the light of day relatively immediately. The other two eventually. The remaining seven, it's a hit or miss. xD;

Animals. I try to do abstract art or doodles and they end up looking like an animal. Maybe. I don't think I answered this question correctly. owo

Gauche and oil painting! I wish I had the funds and resources to do oil painting. It was fun to do in high school;;;

Rewriting stories from my elementary school writing competitions. I might revisit the ideas in the future, but I've gotten so many new ideas that interest me more that I don't really have much of a need to rewrite. I do like reading the old stories though.

[subject matter]-[stage of product i.e sketch; lineart; flats; public viewing; print] Depending on file size I'll have more or less iterations of a project. At some point I need to start merging layers because my art program slows down and starts crashing :')

Haven't really thought about it. Probably suit vests. haha

Mostly anything. o-o I have Youtube playlists of anime/jpop, a mix of pop, rock, ska, youtuber songs, and on spotify I'd listen to soundtracks to movies, shows, and musicals. Sometimes I listen to silence. I used to watch shows while I drew but it was hard to keep it to background noise.

Ears. I've been liking to draw hands though because they're so expressive.

I don't really know what this means. I'm usually admiring people for their work. If I don't want their content in my life, then what's the point? xD;

Screaming characters.

Usually at home...in class for sketches.

Chibi characters, I think. I have to space them out else I get burnt out and bored.

Sometimes. Fruit or something I can pop into my mouth and not get my hands too dirty. I try to avoid anything that splashes because I usually start my drawings traditionally.

I haven't really broken any supplies in recent memory.

Books. owo

Hands I guess. Maybe fabrics.

Pixel art!

I'm not great at pre art warm up exercises

Sometimes. Luminosity, overlay, soft and hard light tend to be my main ones, but I play with the others for effects

Ye

Another artist that seemed to have a similar art style, but couldn't be me since I haven't been to any of the events people mentioned.

I have a couple pieces, but I'm blanking right now.

Not usually. Recently I've been doing graffiti art, but I usually just jump right into the project of the hour.

Only conventions

I think every media inspires me to some degree.

My OCs u.u But I don't do a great job hyping them up, so I need to start there.

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game

Didn’t see a lot of artist ask games, wanted to make a silly one.

(I wrote this while sick out of my mind last year and it’s been collecting dust in my drafts, I might as well let it run free) 1. Art programs you have but don’t use

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

3. What ideas come from when you were little

4. Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn’t supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate

8. What’s an old project idea that you’ve lost interest in

9. What are your file name conventions

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

12. Easiest part of body to draw

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn’t your thing

14. Any favorite motifs

15. *Where* do you draw (don’t drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you’ve broken

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

23. Do you use different layer modes

24. Do your references include stock images

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

26. What’s a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

29. Media you love, but doesn’t inspire you artistically

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

[likepainitingservice]

Which is the best painting services provider in adelaide

We are a professional painting services provider in Adelaide. We are a company that has been in the industry for more than a decade and we have worked on numerous projects. Our team of experts can handle any job, big or small. If you need help with any type of painting services, then you need to contact us right away!

Like Painting Service Group

Like Painting Service Group is a local painting company that has been in business for over 11 years. We are a family-owned business and take great pride in every job that we complete.

Our aim is to offer you the best quality service at an affordable price, as well as providing you with the peace of mind that comes from knowing your home or business is being taken care of by qualified tradesmen who our own staff members have vetted.

We offer free quotes and advice on color choices, materials and techniques, so please don't hesitate to contact us today!

Some of the services we offer are

We offer a wide range of painting services and we have the experience to help you with your project. We do everything from interior, exterior, commercial and residential painting. If you are looking for a trusted painter in Adelaide then look no further than our company.

We also provide render repairs and wood rot repairs as well as other services if required by our clients.

Interior Painting

Interior painting adelaide is a common service offered by painters. The purpose of interior painting is to improve the appearance of a room or space, making it look more attractive and improving its value. Interior painting can also be used to increase the resale value of your home. This can be especially helpful if you’re looking to sell your house because it will make it look nicer and make potential buyers feel confident in their ability to visualize themselves living there.

For example, let’s say that you have grey walls in one of your rooms but want them painted white so that they match the rest of your home better. Your contractor will first remove all of the existing trim around each wall, then paint over top with new white trim before finally covering up any imperfections with touch-up paint where necessary.

Exterior Painting

Exterior painting adelaide is a great way to improve the look of your home. Exterior paint can be applied using various methods, including brush and roller, sprayer or airless sprayer. Depending on the surface being painted, either acrylic or exterior oil-based paint will be required.

Exterior painting services are available for brickwork, block work and timber in addition to rendered surfaces such as concrete or stucco plasterboard walls (if these are unpainted).

Commercial Painting

It is the best time to start painting your commercial painting in adelaide. If you are an owner of a business and looking for reliable contractors that can help you in painting the interior or exterior part of your business, then this article will guide you.

It is very important that as a business owner, you should have all things ready before starting with the work. Here are some tips which might help:

Get quotes from multiple contractors so that if one contractor does not turn out to be good enough, then it won't matter because there are other contractors who can do the job just as well or even better than the previous one.

Residential Painting

We offer a wide range of residential painting services that can be tailored to meet your needs. Our experienced painters will bring your home back to life with new colour and style, whether you want the entire house painted or just specific rooms. We also offer exterior and interior painting, so no matter what colour palette is right for you, we can paint it!

Whether you need an entire room redecorated or just some touch-ups on the walls and ceilings, our team of experts are here to help. You’ll be able to relax while we handle everything from start to finish – no need for distractions!

Render Repairs

Render repairs are a great way to breathe new life into your home. Consider the following examples of render repairs:

Removing old render and applying new render to create a uniform finish.

Replacing damaged or broken sections of render with new sections of high-quality materials.

Repairing cracks in the surface of existing rendering so that it looks as good as new again.

What is render? Render is an outer layer which can be applied over walls, concrete blocks, and some types of stone work such as slate. It provides protection from weather and heavy rain by preventing water from seeping through gaps between the bricks or stones used for construction purposes

If you require more information on our painting services, feel free to call us on 1300 847 679.

Alternatively, you can visit our website at https://likepainting.com.au/.

Our physical address is Po Box 595 Marden, SA 5070.

Conclusion

I believe that the best painting services provider in adelaide is the one that provides a service which is customized to your needs and wants. I have found that this is usually achieved by offering a range of services from basic wallpapering to detailed mural paintings, while also providing advice on what would look good in any given situation.

[floodflood33-blog]

Not known Factual Statements About coffee face mask

Every one of us shell out cash on skincare merchandise so skip the flamboyant serum and splurge on great honey. You should utilize it to wash your face, produce a scrub, or deal with the skin to some weekly do-it-yourself honey mask. Blackheads tend to be a result of oily pores and skin, using wealthy and weighty cosmetics in your face, or failure to cleanse your face and pores and skin adequately. Didi’s get: “The mask, which I painted on that has a basting brush, is clear and dries swiftly, to help you walk throughout the property with it on. It smelled so refreshing and felt so awesome that I held it on For an additional five minutes. Thanks for always providing good information. I'd personally like to test the turmeric mask – just wanting to know if it received’t shade the pores and skin tone to yellow. The fats in the avocado and entire milk yogurt are deeply moisturizing for the pores and skin, even though the lactic acid within the yogurt smooths the skin, refines pores, and stimulates collagen production. You should utilize honey as a house cure to brighten the skin complexion in the subsequent strategies: Mixing juice of one tomato using a teaspoon of honey aids minimize tan marks, brighten pores and skin complexion and eradicate spots & blemishes. Twice weekly, therapeutic massage the combination about the face for 5 minutes and leave it to relaxation for an additional 15 minutes before rinsing it off with faucet h2o for preferred success. Add 1 tsp honey to one of several lemon halves. Even though our summertime times are numbered, the blotchiness and dryness you've picked up from the Sunlight along just how might, however, stick about. While we appreciate managing ourselves to a elaborate salon facial, there are plenty of speedy Do-it-yourself versions which have been a lot easier on our fast paced schedules—and wallets! There are many ingredients that you just Just about can’t go Mistaken with in Do-it-yourself skincare. And honey is without a doubt at the best with the list. This kitchen area pantry staple has been Employed in meals and medicine since the Stone Age. In this article’s why the skin enjoys it, much too. Wonderful piece. Superior to acquire back again to basics and out on the chemical laden cosmetics. I will be striving honey tonight. Nicc job! I'm a Pores and skin Therapist myself and I do want to suggest several selfmade skin care products for my clients. Having said that I do use an item line that actually works properly much too. I comply with Inhabitat's Phrases of Use and Privacy Policy, and also to the usage of cookies explained therein, and I also consent to the gathering, storage, and processing of my data in the United States, exactly where information defense guidelines may be diverse from People in my country. Puree the papaya in the foods processor or blender until finally just mashed evenly, and afterwards blend in the opposite components by hand. Distribute over your face, steering clear of your eyes, and Allow it sit for ten-quarter-hour. Wipe or rinse your face thoroughly clean, and smile at your self within the mirror. Do it you: Submerge the shells in ice for fifteen to twenty minutes. Take away through the ice and slip the suggestion of a finger snugly in the slim mouth of each shell. This electrical power-combo face mask has strawberry and honey to exfoliate your pores wholly and forestall pimples and acne!

The smart Trick of coffee face mask That Nobody is Discussing

This articles is precise and true to the top of your creator’s know-how and isn't meant to substitute for official and individualized suggestions from an experienced Skilled. I have truly terrible skin, and I really like executing a plain raw honey mask! It cleans my pores, cuts down inflamed acne, and leaves my skin sensation softer than ahead of! “Scientific trials have demonstrated that honey is an effective wide-spectrum antibacterial agent. It’s acquired a lot oomph that it may even cease the ‘superbug’ MRSA from rising. Papaya is rich in antioxidants, and its enzymes help to slough absent outdated, dry pores and skin cells for the glowing, balanced complexion. Jasmin Fiore from the Deva Daily life swears by papaya masks as Component of her therapeutic regimen, and sings the praises of the rejuvenating surprise-fruit. These four honey face mask recipes use unique more components, dependant on your skin kind. They can be all made with food-based mostly ingredients which might be likely inside your kitchen area today. Uncomplicated and realistic! Wow, honey is so scrumptious, and it seems It really is particularly beneficial! It truly is like the ideal of the two worlds, it's so attention-grabbing that in some cases the most effective therapies are present in nature. Voted up! Yogurt and honey have antibiotic properties, and this complete blend is as good for your personal outsides as it really is in a consume. Use homemade face mask in the slurp-in a position smoothie Together with the milk of one's alternative. Raw milk used Within this Do it yourself coffee face mask cleanses the skin from in, which makes it search clear and blemish-no cost. What's more, it hydrates the pores and skin, rendering it glimpse supple and radiant. Great for blend skin mask fit of milk: Crack the yeast into a number of smaller pieces and place it in warm milk, it is actually in almost any scenario really should not be warm, normally the mushroom will die; Insert the h2o to the oatmeal and stir for a couple of minutes until eventually it’s plumped up properly. Increase the honey and yogurt, and set through a blender to smooth and Incorporate it rather well. Slather this throughout your face, depart on for 10 minutes or so, after which you can wash with warm water. Pat dry. Honey on your own may be used for a mask and it is effective in curing acne by cleaning your pores and not allowing microbes mature, as a result of its antimicrobial Houses. On top of that, the waxy Portion of honey helps to maintain the pores and skin delicate, easy and glowing. Mix each of the elements alongside one another, spread evenly more than pores and skin, and allow it to sit for around ten minutes. Any time you rinse it off, therapeutic massage your face Carefully to exfoliate as well. mask have to be applied on thoroughly clean pores and skin of your face and continue to keep for 20 minutes, then rinse beneath managing water. Mix honey and cinnamon with each other, and utilize in your face. Depart the mask on for 10-thirty minutes. The antibacterial properties of both equally honey and cinnamon make this honey mask fantastic acne-susceptible pores and skin.

How strawberry face mask can Save You Time, Stress, and Money.

This is a superb mask for fellas, as it could soothe each razor burn, and over-weathered winter skin. The yogurt acts like a moisturizer, whilst the cucumber lessens redness and gives dampness to dry, sensitive skin. So, why invest major bucks on acne treatment method or almost every other artificial chemical products, when you can try out these incredibly easy strawberry face masks, appropriate in your kitchen area?! Hey, it won't harm to try! Applying heat drinking water, rinse off, tackling the edges of your respective face and beneath your chin especially. Splash your face with cold drinking water to close pores. Pat dry using a clean towel. and create a easy paste out of it by including rose h2o.  Utilize within the face and neck and rinse off only when its semi dry. This face pack will deep cleanse the skin and pull out both of those black heads and white heads. Most of them are recommended to help keep the face to dry wholly. Yeast right after utilizing the mask is definitely eradicated with heat drinking water (superior to take just the filtered, free of impurities). So, the choice – for you personally! This is a wonderful mask for dry, peeling and scaling pores and skin. The avocado and coconut oil offer replenishing moisture, even though the honey really helps to mend any chafed or Uncooked spots. Be sure to how long until I start out looking at success Once i begin utilizing the face mask( orange peel powder, oatmeal and baking soda) and how often must I utilize it in per week? Immediately after fifteen minutes, Carefully therapeutic massage the mask into your face applying smaller round motions for one more 5 minutes. Much like coffee, cocoa way too is an excellent source of antioxidants. Yogurt is actually a purely natural source of alpha hydroxy acid, a natural exfoliation compound that helps in breaking down the useless pores and skin cells. To generate the face mask, you may need 4 tablespoons of ground coffee beans, four tablespoons of cocoa powder and 6 to 8 tablespoons of unflavored yogurt. Hello :) i just did the lemon mask With all the strawberry And that i liked it but how frequently can i utilize it? Everyday with any luck , Produce a cucumber face mask. Cucumber has cooling Homes that cut down redness, puffiness and inflammation; this is why Placing cucumbers in excess of your eyes is usually recommended for baggy eyes. Within a blender, blend fifty percent a cucumber that has a tablespoon of yogurt. If there’s any mask remaining around Once you clean your face with it, add a bit of h2o to it and utilize it as a scrub to the backs of one's arms and every other overall body aspect that might do with a few smoothing. This assistance allows you to join or affiliate a Google AdSense account with HubPages, so that you could generate cash from adverts in your content. No facts is shared unless you interact using this feature. (Privacy Policy) Honey consists of a significant serving of antioxidants for moisturized and vivid pores and skin. Polyphenols in honey ruin free of charge radicals that cause oxidative anxiety in skin cells, thereby slowing down the growing older technique of pores and skin.

The Definitive Guide to yeast face mask

Become a member of Reward Me and have unique provides! Become a member Mixing honey, orange peel powder and yogurt generates a mask that can help you lessen acne scars and blemishes. Even though the yeast facial masks are incredibly valuable to the skin, have this facility and contraindications: When you have broken skin, you will discover scratches, cuts, you are doing laser resurfacing, then until finally it is completely healed, It's not necessarily required to create a mask with yeast; To accomplish your registration please enter the verification code you been given with your mobile. In case you have not obtained the verification code, you should SMS REWARDME to 9223347100 This is certainly used to detect individual browsers or products in the event the entry the assistance, and is also used for stability motives. All energy is created into delivering total transparency, not all offered merchandise or businesses are highlighted. Posted content is obtainable with none slant or bias regardless of what affiliation there is with sponsorship or association. Now http://www.pearltrees.com/weaponbrown4 and powder your peels right into a great powder utilizing a food processor or blender, devoid of adding any drinking water. Mash each of the ingredients jointly, but do not puree in a very blender: you wish this for being spreadable, not a liquid. Use evenly throughout your face and Permit sit 8-10 minutes. Wipe off that has a warm, damp facecloth and after that rinse with interesting water. Pat dry. Honey and avocado are the best combo of hydrating elements for dry skin. Ground almonds Carefully exfoliate, and their excellent fats leave your skin experience Tremendous tender. If you need to add much more moisturizing Gains, include a tablespoon of oil to the combination. Now, smooth the paste equally and Carefully using your fingertips to the clean neck and face; keep the eye place clear. Bought quite oily and acne-inclined pores and skin? Worry no extra with this easy and cleaning orange peel face mask, that can depart the skin oil-free and moisturized at the same time! Almost finished... We must verify your electronic mail handle. To complete the membership system, be sure to simply click the connection in the e-mail we just sent you. Orange peel is thought to soak up extra oil or sebum from oily pores and skin. This face mask also employs coconut oil, which is effective wonders in driving out the ‘poor’ acne-leading to oil from deep within just the skin pores. If there’s any mask remaining above Once you wash your face with it, add a little bit of h2o to it and use it as a scrub for that backs of your respective arms and another entire body component that would do with some smoothing. Yogurt and honey have antibiotic Homes, and this entire blend is as good for your personal outsides as it is actually inside a drink. Use any leftovers inside of a slurp-ready smoothie While using the milk within your selection.

The 2-Minute Rule for honey face mask

Homemade acne face masks are superb purely natural remedies for getting rid of acne breakouts and doing away with acne scars. These recipes involve several different substances that aid nourish the skin and reduce acne-relevant problems. Individuals who have oily skin tend to be more concerned about their face due to excess oil secretion. And in this article yeast and yogurt face mask that is an excellent cure for it. Let’s begin to see the yeast and yogurt face mask Gains for face. Just after this, place this combination inside a bowl of sizzling water. This will likely heat it up and also the yeast can get activated. Many thanks for always giving wonderful info. I would love to check out the turmeric mask – just thinking if it received’t shade the skin tone to yellow. Points: Aspirin or acetylsalicylic acid is an efficient skin conditioner and is often present in skin care items. Moreover, it really works incredibly perfectly to treat acne for people with oily pores and skin. Residence Facial Mask with Yeast results in the actual miracles, since the yeast is a storehouse of natural vitamins and minerals which might be so significant for the normal functioning of skin cells. After it's dissolved, you apply it towards the face. I even place it closer to my eyes than I do with different kinds of masks, just not so close that it will get in. I have a admirer brush which is virtually for painting that I bought for the craft keep given that I failed to want a too flimsy face supporter brush. Mine is far lesser when compared to the highlighting brushes, but stiff plenty of and nevertheless super gentle. I use it for masks on the whole and It truly is perfect for this. I'm certain it is not needed but I like it. It is extremely helpful for acne-vulnerable skin thanks to its antiseptic and antibacterial Houses. Its anti-inflammatory mother nature also will help lower redness and inflammation brought on by acne and pimples. Handmade face masks are crammed with character's restorative goodness, in the shape with the nutrients, minerals, acids, and oils defined inside the tables earlier mentioned, without any with the chemical substances that keep-acquired masks really need to comprise for an prolonged shelf everyday living. First of all, area the cornstarch and strawberries inside of a blender and upcoming mix till you've got a paste that's constant plenty of As a result it is going to stay within the face devoid of operating off. Environmentally friendly tea and honey get the job done anti-inflammatory magic on skin redness and inflammation. This relaxing combo is Mild adequate for sensitive skin (do a patch test in case you’re worried). Both elements are strong antioxidants to struggle totally free radicals and repair skin harm. Utilizing honey masks for acne procedure is actually a very popular dwelling remedy and Should you be seriously interested in dealing with your acne within a all-natural, harmless way or if One's body will not reply perfectly to absorbing medicines fabricated from harsh substances, then honey masks are the proper option for you. peel off face mask ’m striving the honey and cinnamon a single right this moment (my face seems like I just smeared goopy foundation which is like, 50 shades darker than my pores and skin color xD). I used to be also producing environmentally friendly tea w/ honey and lemon and thought “eh, all Individuals are very good to suit your needs soooo….meh Why don't you?” and additional just a tiny swig towards the cinnamon and honey mask misk. I've combo/sensitive pores and skin and are already struggling with gentle-average acne due to the fact I used to be thirteen (now 19) and I can never ever appear to get rid of it. Every little thing I’ve tried out appeared to not do a factor or merely break me out. Then, put the yogurt and strawberries inside of a blender to mash or Incorporate collectively the yogurt and strawberries utilizing a fork (a blender functions ideal).

[truckpanelpaint]

Why Do You Need To Hire Sandblasting Services in Auckland, New Zealand?

Do you want to hire experts rendering Sandblasting For Machine Parts Auckland? Sandblasting or abrasive blasting is a cycle that involves gliding a stream of abrasive material with force against the surface of a thing. It gets used to smooth the rough surface or roughen a smooth surface based on the entity. It gets used as a part of the finishing cycle, which removes material from the thing to prep its surface for coating.

What are the goods of hiring sandblasting services?

But, what are the benefits of sandblasting some products or objects before putting the touch on everything with powder coating? We will talk about some of the benefits of using Sandblasting For Machine Parts Auckland for your trade.

Sandblasting is simple.

Sandblasting is a bit simple. Although you need experts to get the work done, it is not a strenuous job. Skilled people need to lay a tarp below the surface that gets sandblasted which makes the clean-up cycle a bit quick and easy. You need to remove the extra material at the end of the cycle and clean the tarp.

It cleans the surface.

One of the reasons sandblasting is an essential part of the finishing cycle is just does not smoothen the surface of an object. It also cleans the surface of the object. Sandblasting services are a great way to remove dust, harmful contaminants, and oil. Sandblasting For Machine Parts Auckland does so for almost any sort of surface.

Sandblasting is stunningly fast.

Sandblasting smooth and clean objects for finishing efficiently and faster. It makes cleaning surfaces like metal easier which saves your time and cash.

Sandblasting will help you remove old paint.

When an object comes with old paint on it, you can remove the paint at a high speed. It will prepare the object for a new coat of paint that gives you a smooth and fresh result.

Can you try sandblasting yourself?

It is risky to try sandblasting yourself. It is during Automotive Sandblasting In Auckland NZ a person will get exposed to toxic, life-threatening chemicals like silica. The sandblasting experts come equipped with safety precautions that should get taken to protect from extended silica exposure.

Exposure to toxic silica can also cause lung diseases and injuries if you don't do the job correctly. Therefore, you shouldn't try to sandblast yourself.

The experienced and professional sandblasting firm will come with the proper equipment to sandblast the object you need. Sandblasting services have all they need to get the job done without putting anyone's life at risk.

Where can you find sandblasting services in New Zealand?

Surface Coatings can have two primary functions. Sandblasting Services South Auckland does not just decorate the item but also protects it from dust and dirt. Sandblasting firms can help you cover your objects or products and finish powder coatings.

No matter if you are looking for a professional liquid powder coating or sandblasting service, we have the best solution for you.

[carwash4g-blog]

Easy Approaches to Preserve on Fuel - Just Clean Your Auto

With the existing sky rocket international oil charges, a lot of folks are obtaining it tougher fueling their cars and maintaining to their month-to-month home funds. Men and women are continuously looking for approaches to save on gas. One particular very basic resolution to reduce gasoline value is by washing your automobile. It has been established, a clear auto has significantly less wind drag therefore lowering the gasoline consumption of your car. If you are about to clean a automobile, what is the very best solution to use as a auto clean? The proper reply is use what ever you like greatest. If you have a certain preference to a specific brand, use it. Car Wash  The thought right here is for you to have the practice of washing your auto. However, there are some disadvantages to certain merchandise and benefits to other individuals. For ease sake, some people really use dish detergent to wash their automobile. Do understand that these products are made to get rid of vegetable or animal fat from fired ceramic. It will remove the great coat of wax on you vehicle really easily. If you use dish detergent to clean your auto, you will have to wax it weekly to hold the shine on. That will defeat your objective of striving to decrease your automobile managing value. If you want to have your car wax final lengthier, you might think about using a product that is exclusively created for automotive use. The great products are dependent on detergents as an alternative of soaps. Most soap is produced from rendered animal byproduct. It contains trace factor that can truly harm your auto paint job. Good quality car shampoos are typically pH controlled and have gloss enhancers and some even have little quantity of h2o soluble wax for great evaluate. There are several straightforward issues you can do to help save on your car gasoline price. Just by washing your vehicle on your own can save you pounds. Imagine if you have more than one automobile for your family. These conserving can be very a big sum of money. Business Name: Freedom Hand Car Wash Detailing & Ceramic Coating Business Email: fccarwash7@gmail.com Phone Number: (407) 970-5857

[livingcorner]

How to get rid of termites in flower beds – A Good Garden

Everyone wants their flower bed surrounding their home to look beautiful which creates a great impression on their visitors. However, flower beds often attract termites that can cause a lot of damage if left unchecked.

If you find termites in your flower bed, there are different methods you can use to get rid of them by either using natural means which is friendlier to the environment, or using chemicals. Termites naturally occur in the soil and they feed on cellulose that is available everywhere. You will mostly find them near their food sources that include plant roots and wood. Termites love moist places and the continuous watering of your flower beds and mulch that keeps the soil moist provides that ideal environment for termites. Most gardeners use timber edging or wood mulch in their garden or flower beds plus the high levels of moisture provide all the food termites need. Although your flower bed may attract termites, its design can easily conceal access to your house. If the flower bed design prevents you from inspecting the perimeter of your house for any signs of termite activity, it can increase the risk of a concealed termite attack.

You're reading: How to get rid of termites in flower beds – A Good Garden

Natural ways of getting rid of termites

Termites have a very thin layer of skin and can easily dry out and die when exposed to little or no humidity so they thrive in very humid areas. It can be frustrating trying to locate the termites because they burrow deep into the soil and even more tricky trying to decide how to kill them due to the location of the infestation. But if you know what you’re doing, you can easily do it on your own without the need of calling pest control. However, it won’t be an instant fix so you need to plan ahead and be patient.

Vinegar

Vinegar is a household product that you’ll find in many homes that are used to clean everything from your kitchen countertop to your bathroom shower. You can also use it to kill termites. You just mix half a cup of vinegar with lemon juice from 2 lemons, put it in a spray bottle and spray around the areas you suspect to have termites. Spray regularly to ensure any termites you get all the termites in that area. The acidity in your mixture will kill the termites on contact.

Nematodes

Beneficial nematodes will not only help you get rid of the termites, but you’ll also get rid of other bugs that can harm your flower bed and home including wood-boring insects. You just need to release them in the areas you know or suspect have termites. The nematodes kill the termites by releasing a particular bacteria into their body, but they won’t harm pets or humans. Nematodes quickly reproduce and are very effective in destroying all the termites in the colony. You can buy these tiny worms in a specialty store or online.

Wet cardboard

Termites love the cellulose in cardboard, wood, and paper. Wet cardboard can be a very good bait for luring them out and onto a specific spot. This method will prevent them from getting into your furniture and other valuables. Soak some cardboard with water and place it near the areas you found most of the termites. After a few days, you’ll find it infested with termites and you can remove the cardboard and burn it. This method won’t get rid of all the termites, but it will remove plenty of them so you can repeat this several times.

Orange oil

Orange oil is mostly made from d-limonene which is poisonous to termites. The oil is got from orange peelings and you can either buy it online or garden stores. This oil dissolves the exoskeleton of termites which causes them to lose proteins and moisture and finally die. Spray the oil directly onto the termites or the areas with termites. You can also spray the oil to deter the termites which is a good way of keeping your home and flower beds termite-free.

Boric acid

Using boric acid in its powder or liquid form is a very effective way of getting rid of termites and other bugs like ants and roaches. You just need to mix the powder with warm water and sugar and make a paste then apply it on your furniture, and around the termite mounds on the ground. Also, sprinkle or spray the boric liquid or powder around the edges of your home and the infested areas to keep the termites out.

Borates

Sodium borate also is known as the borax powder can also be used in killing termites and also washing your laundry. You can either mix the powder with water and spray it around the area infested with termites or sprinkle the powder. You should repeat this process regularly to ensure you’ve destroyed all the termites.

Exposure to sunlight

Termites are very sensitive to sunlight and if you expose them to too much sunlight and heat they die. During the summer months, you can drag any infested furniture to your back yard and expose it to the sun to get rid of the termites or use UV lamps to shine on the infested areas to get the same results.

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Chemical termite treatments to kill termites

Liquid termite barrier

This method will not only kill the termites, but it’s also a good preventative method. It creates a pesticide barrier around your home, wooden structures, tree stumps, or woodpiles and will poison termites upon contact. You can either use Taurus SC or Termidor SC that is mostly used by pest control professionals to eliminate termites. It’s completely undetectable by termites and can be spread the poison by contact by a single affected termite to the entire colony.

Poisoned baits

Some people may find the liquid barrier treatment too radical and if you’re not comfortable spraying gallons of pesticide around your home, using poisoned baits could be a better option. You don’t have to spray them, you just install them in the ground around the infested area and your home and they will attract foraging termites that will then spread the poison back in the colony. The baits are less costly and work faster. You should examine the baits to check if the termites have been attracted and have started eating the bait.

Different types of termites

Type of termite

Mostly found

Food source

Subterranean termites

Live in the soil and build very distinct mud tubes

Fence posts, trees, structural timber

Drywood termites

Establish nests in wooden wall supports, roof materials and wood near a water source

Dead trees, hardwood floors, and structural timber

Dampwood termites

Live in wood with high moisture content

Basements with leaking pipes and damp wood

Formosan termites

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Huge underground colonies and build intricate mud nests inside the walls of the structure

Wood and other cellulose-based goods and can even invade boats and live trees

Conehead termites

Live in trees

They forage on the ground like ants and spread quickly

The Do’s and Don’ts of having a termite-free flower bed

Do’s

The best mulch to use is either stones or gravel, but if you insist on using timber mulch, ensure that it has been pre-treated with insecticide or ensure the wood is termite resistant like cypress pine.

If you’re using timber for edging the flower beds, go for H4 treated timber.

You can plant your flowers in pots which will reduce their water requirements and limit their root system.

You should get a professional termite inspection at least once a year.

Don’ts

Avoid using pine or railway sleepers. These treated pine sleepers are often used as raised garden beds that are filled with soil to plant gardens or natural herbs. However, these pine sleepers are treated with Arsenic or Deltamethrin, and when you water the beds the poisonous chemical leaks into the soil and mix with your food.

Don’t use insect spray. Most homeowners think using insect spray is an effective way of getting rid of termites. Spraying a few termites on the surface will only cause them to relocate and you won’t kill the termites that live deep in the ground.

Conclusion

The best way to treat a problem is to ensure that the problem doesn’t occur again. So instead of trying to get rid of termites in the first place, you should look for ways to keep them out of your home, flower beds, and garden. You might be tempted to use chemicals in pest control, but there are natural methods that will help you keep termites away from your property.

FAQ

What is the first sign of termites?

The first sign of termite infestation is usually the presence of flying termites called swarmers. They’re male and female termites that have left the nest to find a mate and establish a new colony.

Can salt kill termites?

Salt is a natural and effective way of killing termites. You just need to fill a jar with equal amounts of warm water and salt, then using a syringe inject the solution to the infested areas.

William Smith

William Smith has been rendering his services to a botanical garden for the better part of his adult life and has recently moved to landscaping firms. His love for gardens has been nurtured since he was a kid, evident from the various garden centers and estates that have benefited from his services. Smith is a natural when it comes to gardening and when combined with his acquired degree in landscape design, you can expect a high-quality professional job, thanks to his experience and expertise. During his free time, Smith does gardening as a hobby and runs forums where he offers expert ideas on gardening.

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

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