#i need to leave the art to the actual artists

[misaerabl]

In Between the Lines

Artist!Ellie X F!Reader

MEN DNI around 4k (?) words

summary : Ellie, a street artist, began working near your place. She quickly caught your attention. After a few days of observing her, you decided to buy one of her paintings. Now, you find yourself returning every day, not entirely sure if it's her art or the artist herself that draws you back.

warnings : none i guess (THIS ONE IS SFW)

authors notes : i haven't written in a long time and this is my first ellie x reader fic! this is part one! i hope you enjoy :) (masterlist coming soon)

Start ﹒✿﹒

Returning from your morning jog, you grab a cold glass of water from the fridge. As you sip, your gaze drifts to the painting you bought from a street artist two days ago. Something about it captivates you, though you can’t quite say why. Drawn closer, you let your fingers hover over the small, cursive signature: Ellie W.

"Ellie..." you say underneath your breath.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, you step outside and take another lap around the block. About eight blocks from your building, you spot her—Ellie—setting up her easel. Her hair is in a loose half-up, half-down style, and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

You settle on a bench behind her and watch as she begins to paint, completely absorbed in her work. Then, she glances over her shoulder, catching you in the act.

“Hey, stalker,” she says with a playful smirk.

"Uhm... Me?" you ask, looking around to ensure there’s no one else before pointing to yourself as you pull out your headphones—though they weren’t actually playing anything.

Ellie chuckles, turning fully in her chair to face you. "Yes, you." She rests her elbows on her knees, giving you a playful look. "You're always here, but you never buy anything."

You pause, a bit flustered. "I just… I like watching you work." Realizing how that sounded, you quickly add, "I mean, I don’t have much talent for this kind of thing, so it's kind of fascinating."

"Oh, so you do like watching me work?" she teases, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

You scoff, taken aback by her boldness. You’re not even sure why you’re there, but her audacity is outrageous. "Whatever makes you feel good about yourself," you reply.

"Well, I can’t help being confident," she retorts with a playful tilt of her head. "How could I not be when a pretty girl watches me every day?" Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you look down to hide your reaction.

"No more comebacks?" she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Did I make you blush, pretty girl?"

You take a moment to compose yourself before replying, "That’s not confidence. That’s arrogance. Do you flirt like this with all the girls who buy from you?"

"Only if they're pretty," she chuckles, a playful smile spreading across her face.

You pause, uncertain, and say, "Just let me know if you need me to leave. I don’t want to disrupt your creative flow or anything."

"No, it’s fine. You can stay and watch," she responds, turning back to her easel. A wave of relief washes over you, but Ellie hears your exhale and glances back, choosing not to comment. Instead, she immerses herself in her work, the air thick with an unspoken connection.

"Can I ask you a question?" you break the silence.

"Yeah, sure," she replies, her eyes fixed intently on her canvas. She’s deeply focused, capturing the essence of the streets around her.

"Why do you paint around here? I haven't seen you at all until a few days ago," you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, reaching into the bag beside her for her paints. "I just moved nearby. I’m only doing this as a sideline," she explains as she begins to add color to the canvas. "I run a business close by, but they don’t really need me much."

You didn’t expect that answer, so you quickly pile on another question. "Is your name Ellie?"

She turns to face you, a playful smirk on her lips. "Yeah, how’d you know? I was only kidding, but are you really my stalker?"

She already knows the answer is no, likely because you saw her signature on the artwork, but she enjoys teasing you and watching your reaction.

"No!” you jolt up, heat rising to your cheeks. “I—I just saw your sign on the painting I bought a few days ago…” You scratch the back of your neck, feeling embarrassed.

“Chill, princess, I was kidding,” she replies with a playful grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You let out a nervous laugh, relief washing over you. “Right, of course. Just trying to keep up with you, I guess.”

Ellie chuckles and returns her focus to her canvas, adding delicate strokes of color. “Well, if you’re going to keep watching me, you might as well learn something. What do you think of my technique?”

You hesitate, taking a moment to observe the way she blends the colors. “It’s really impressive. I never thought I’d be so fascinated by someone painting.”

She glances back at you, a playful spark in her eyes. “Fascinated by my talent or my charm?”

You smirk, feeling a rush of confidence. “A bit of both, I suppose. But don’t let it get to your head.”

She laughs, her smile infectious. “Too late for that! I thrive on flattery. But seriously, if you want to learn more, I can show you some techniques. You might just surprise yourself.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by her offer. “You’d teach me?”

“Of course! But only if you promise to stop lurking like a lost puppy,” she teases, winking at you.

“Deal,” you say, a grin spreading across your face as you settle in to watch her work, your excitement growing at the thought of learning from her.

“Wait, you don’t need me to pay you or anything, right?” you ask, suddenly concerned.

She rubs her chin in mock contemplation, a playful smile creeping across her face. “How about… I take you out? How’s that for your payment?”

You blink in surprise, your heart racing at the suggestion. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” she replies, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Consider it a thank-you for keeping me company and for being my first unofficial art student.”

You can’t help but grin. “I’d definitely take you up on that. Where are we going?”

Ellie shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know yet. We could hit up that new café down the street, or I could show you the best taco stand in the area. What are you in the mood for?”

You think for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities. “I’m always up for tacos. But I’m also down for anything that involves food and good conversation.”

“Perfect! Tacos it is then,” she declares, clearly pleased with the choice.

She stands up and dusts herself off, and you quickly step in to help her clean up her supplies. You gather her paint tubes and brushes, making sure everything is neatly packed away.

﹒✿﹒

When you reach the taco stand, the scent of spices fills the air, and you both dive into the experience, trying different flavors and swapping bites of each other’s orders. “Okay, this is definitely the best taco I’ve ever had,” you admit, savoring the blend of flavors.

“I told you! This place is a hidden gem,” Ellie beams, clearly proud of her choice.

As you enjoy the food and the warmth of her company, you realize this spontaneous outing feels less like a casual dinner and more like the start of something special. The laughter, the teasing, and the easy flow of conversation make you feel at ease. You can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a deeper connection—both as friends and something more.

You stare into her eyes, your gaze briefly darting to her lips. She notices and smirks, a playful challenge flickering in her expression.

You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks, a silent acknowledgment of the moment hanging between you. For a heartbeat, the world around you fades, and it feels as if time has slowed down.

“Are you just going to stare, or are you going to say something?” she teases, tilting her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You clear your throat, scrambling to regain your composure. “I, uh… I was just thinking how focused you are when you paint,” you stammer, trying to redirect the conversation. “It’s really impressive.”

She laughs softly, the sound warm and inviting. “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that. But I’d prefer honesty over flattery any day.”

“Alright, then,” you say, gathering your courage. “I was also thinking about how… captivating you are.”

The playful glint in her eyes shifts to something softer, and the air between you feels charged with potential. “Well, I appreciate that. It’s nice to be seen beyond just the art, you know?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, your heart racing.

She steps a little closer, the distance between you narrowing. “Maybe you’ll get to know me better if you keep coming back,” she says, her voice low and inviting

The challenge lingers in the air, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that this connection is only just beginning.

End ﹒✿﹒

a/n : okayyy that's it for now y'all. I wrote this at like 11:30pm and i just couldn't sleep. I will be posting the 2nd part soon!

[buttercupshands]

(Forgot to post again)

A birthday present for a friend :)

[wombywoo]

discussion 🗣️

[magickpancakes]

woa, whats they sayings?

(textless below)

[secondbeatsongs]

so when building the Racer family home in TS2, I keep coming back to the fact that I have no idea where the bedrooms (besides Speed's) are supposed to go, and this has been an issue! so I uhh. did something.

I broke down and requested a cameo vid from Paulie Litt (who played Spritle in Speed Racer), asking him if he knew where the bedrooms were supposed to be. xD

but ofc I figured there's a chance he wouldn't! I mean, I knew the set probably didn't connect in a way that showed where Spritle's room was, and even if it did, he was...thirteen? I think? when that movie was filmed? so there's no guarantee he'd even remember.

but still! I figured I'd try, so here's the message I sent with the request:

I'm making a model of the Racer house, and I can't figure out where the bedrooms are. Do you happen to remember how the house set layout worked? If not, alt question: was Spritle flipping off Royalton improv'd by you? (bc it's not in the script.) ty!

(it's really hard to write things and stick within the 250 character limit)

and today, the request was fulfilled! so here's this!

(tl;dw - he didn't know anything else about the layout of the house because the set didn't go that far, but he did tell the story about how the Wachowskis directed him to flip off Royalton!)

so even though I didn't gain any new knowledge about the Racer house, I did learn something else! and it's great that it was the Wachowskis who (last-minute) told him to flip off Royalton xD

[cavity-collector]

i genuinely need to be put down like a dog i cant do this anymore man holy shit

[milfygerard]

did she specifically make 34 versions of TTPD because shes 34 years old

[jrueships]

tbh tho i think my art is fugly af LMFAO

[littlemoondarlingarts]

~please click for better quality I'm actually proud of the details for once~

@oc-tober2023 's day6: prison ft. Rouge

Everytime I close my eyes, my mind thinks I'm back in that prison again, blind, mute, wounded and slowly starving to death. Back then I didn't care for any of that, only that my son was with that man, I didn't expect him to hold out on his own, and I certainly didn't expect him to save me. What can I say, children are full of surprises. I still worry sometimes.. that something happened that he didn't tell me about... it keeps me up when the sun is bright.

~ // Rouge

[things-i-send-to-my-darling-bf]

Hello, followers.

In front of you is a masterpost made by my husband, it was weeks of work and organising alongside a huge effort and determination to assist Argentinian artists.

You have one button to press, if you choose to press it you can stay but if you refrain i will slowly start filling the room with gas blocking you all.

You understand that i do not need to let you stay here as this was never a space for you.

I am so proud of him and the efforts he has put in and it takes only a moment for you to spread that, this is not only for him but an entire group of artists and creatives who deserve recognition and visibility. I know you see the post, i get notes as you scroll through liking posts meant to be shared with my husband.

You have 48 hours or until i get annoyed enough.

[qumiiiquinnquin]

ill never be good enough at anything

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

gnashing my teeth. if I could wrangle my brain + hand into working right that would be superb

[foxmulderautism]

like yeah dude it’s really cool that you used AI to complete an art piece that was purposefully left unfinished because the artist was dying of AIDS as the government ignored the mass loss of life and health. all you really did was show that technology can bring an art piece into the modern age but why? why do we need to do that? what does it say about us if we feel that a piece needs to be ‘completed’? how are we viewing completion?? can seeing an ai generated “completion” of unfinished have the same effect of seeing the parts haring left blank and the parts where the art drips into the blank? does it aid the narrative of it in any way? can AI understand the levels at which artists used their pieces about AIDS as a form of protest? of begging to be seen? how can it when an AI’s concept of ‘completing’ the piece is just guesswork of what the colours and shapes would look like to match what haring made which is nowhere near the same level of intention that came from him? you said you ‘completed’ the piece with ai because his story is so sad but does that mean we should try to rectify sadness by getting rid of the representation of it? should we not continue to sit in the sadness and discomfort that unfinished and other AIDS inspired art asks us to do because those feelings are only a fraction of what the people who died and lost felt, is that not the least we can do for them? and what good does any of this actually do when we can use technology to ‘complete’ a purposefully unfinished art piece about an artist’s untimely death from AIDS but we can never bring keith haring or any other person who died of AIDS back to life? where does haring, the person whose illness and death lives in those blanks, come into your self fulfilling ai generated completion of his work?

[mintjeru]

this month marks 10 years since i started digital art so i decided to do a little redraw ^^

open for better quality | no reposts

[datwinky]

Reasons I'll like but not reblog an artist's art:

1. I am, it's just in a queue

2. It's art I really like, I just don't want it on my blog (which is just an archive for posts I want to go back and look at later)

3. It's something I like but don't really understand the context of like a fandom I'm unfamiliar with or OCs and don't want to reblog because it makes tagging difficult which messes up my organization

4. It would go on a blog (either main or side) where I have no followers and don't have the blog TO gain followers or communicate with and it literally would not spread to anyone for that reason

5. I've been on this site for 8 years and even then have memory issues and use likes as a way to mark what posts I have and haven't already seen/reblogged

6. And the one you want to hear the least: yeah. Sometimes art is nice enough for a like but not a reblog. It's called preferences. It's not a matter of technical skill or effort put into the piece or fandom they're not in or whatever. Sometimes you just don't vibe with something that much. That is NORMAL. A like and no reblog there shows, at least for me, "hey I can appreciate the concept behind it/technical skill/etc" but I won't reblog because for some other reason I just don't like it enough to have it on my blog. If the idea that not everyone will like your art enough to show it around to your friends is that big of a blow to your ego then you need to stop posting it because that is EXTREMELY unhealthy. It does you no good and only serves to ruin your relationship with your art. Stop

I have had it with this likescolding. “Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm so likes don’t actually do anything” motherfucker I am not clicking that heart to give some post better ~algorithmic visibility~ I am clicking that heart to help my internet friend microdose on serotonin as god fucking intended

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.