i actually made it on a canvas

“don’t kill flowers growing inside of you for someone who doesn’t appreciate  the way you bloom.”  iambrillyant

“How strong you are, to go through Hell on Earth, and still smile and carry yourself like you’re in Heaven.”   Maxwell Diawuoh 

“Now, let me be, let me not want for another. Let me fall in love with the curves and edges of my own body and soul. Let me plant a garden in my heart, and let it spring forth in a blanket of décor.” @prolixen

“I’m not going to let anyone steal or destroy who I’m meant become.” @riffatmatinpoetry

“she was a single drop of the ocean, but she moved with the force of a
tsunami” @a-pen-and-some-words

“You are damaged and broken and unhinged. But so are shooting stars and comets.” —  Shooting Stars and Comets | Nikita Gill

“some people are artists. some, themselves are art.” @ever-blooming

“ And don’t you ever feel like you are a summary of other people’s opinions. If anything, you’re an unfinished book, and you decide who you let co-write.” —  k.h. 1.04 am @evolvement

“Even all the grandest things in life were once something lesser than what they are today.” —  It’s okay to start with rubble, castles were built on less / A.G @abasnails

“be softer with you. you are a breathing thing. a memory to someone. a home to a life” —  Nayyirah Waheed

“ People who only wish to stifle your bloom, do not belong in your garden.” —  Upile. @odetopablo

“We will always be something. Because Darling, we were never nothing.” —  Sarn @sarncobin

“The real beauty of being human is knowing that whether something destroys or strengthens you is completely your choice.” @i-wrotethisforme 

“She stopped being your Icarus. And she became her own sun.” —  cynthia go // Sun [85/365]

“Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.” —  Rumi @wearefearfullyandwonderfullymade

“ i was not made with fire in my belly so i could be put out i was not made with lightness on my tongue so i could be easy to follow” —  from Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur

“some women fear the fire some women simply become it…”—  r.h. sin

“The body changes over time, becoming a gallery of scars, a canvas of experience, a testament to life and one’s capacity to endure it.”—  Janet Fitch, Paint It Black

“And for me, you are the best piece of art of this collection called humans.” —  NALK @notalostkid 

“Your roots do not determine the beauty of your blossom.”—  Sage S. 

- Afterword

This is for all the rainy days. they are not necessarily quotes from artist or famous people (actually most of them are from the spilled ink section of tumblr), but they are words that had made me feel better. I hope this helps + please check out the poet’s blogs! Those people are amazing and deserve so much recognition for what they do. (please tell me if anyone want their poem taken down !!!)



 edits by me, made with canva

I decided to dig through all the lyrics sheets of some of the most popular musicals, finding the first times the titles of the musicals were stated. It was actually challenging, surprisingly, for some of the plays where the title isn’t actually said in the songs that much.  But I made some pretty edits, and had a lot of fun with it. I also did one for Pippin, Sound of music and Gigi but. These were my favorites. 




Wow… I just checked my requests and I got SO MANY over the weekend. I’ll try to get to everyone. Please note that I have my own organizational system that’s not necessarily based on how long ago you requested, but I won’t make you wait too long.

This is one of the common ones. I actually made these on Friday and never got a chance to upload them.

I have some Les Mis ones halfway done. I’ll upload In the Heights in a minute (ha, wasn’t even requested, just love it), and I’ll work on Great Comet, more Hamilton, and another Spring Awakening tomorrow.

People have also asked what I use to make these. I use Canva, which is incredibly easy and free. I also get all images that I don’t credit from there, too, which is a nice library.

anonymous asked:

Hi! First of all, I love your edits, they are all gorgeous and I hope you know that ♥ And secondly, would you mind making a mini tutorial on how to make the drawing effect gif as you did here post/158606758288/hogwarts-houses-ϟ-slytherin-or-perhaps-in? I would really appreciate that

aah thank you!! this is so kind of you to say :”) and sure thing, hun! I’ll be explaining how to make something like this from this photoset:

what you’ll need: 

— photoshop 
— patience 

Keep reading

Just a flower? (Jungkook Tattooartist!au)

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

Summary: “Something small…a flower?”

Genre: Jungkook x Reader TattooArtist!au ( A little angst, fluff )

A/N: Helloo!! Thx to the anon that requested this btw. I hope you like it I kind of went wild with the plot! ❤️ p.s if u want links for the tattoos ill put them on here and use your imagination for your tattoo placement and or style ❀ ✿ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃ ❋ enjoy!

“You’re such a goodie two shoes! You mean to tell me you’ve never gone to a random club for the heck of it, not even once?”

“Leave me alone!” You dropped your pencil and gave her a look. “You’re supposed to be at a meeting anyway, not instigating my personal life.” Poking out your bottom lip you pouted to yourself. She laughed while grabbing a bottle of orange juice and a bagel. You sat at the island with a few books, tea and a pencil as you watched her scramble to get out because she was late. The whole morning she wouldn’t get off your case about your so called ‘innocence’.

“I’m just saying Y/N, you traveled across the world and your nose is stuck in a book! Live a little! Do something spontaneous for once. See you later!” She ran out and you sighed in relief, you could breathe, she was finally off your back.

Do something spontaneous she says, you’ve done plenty of spontaneous things including moving here. You moved here for school but it still counts, right? You sighed, resting your chin in the palm of your hand in thought. Maybe she was right, maybe you did need to do something on a whim.

You pushed back a strand of your hair before securing the lid of the beautiful drink. 

“Jungkook?” You called the order name, searching around for whoever it might be. Who you presumed to be the man who ordered it looked up from his phone and his soft features caught your attention; and not only that but the sleeve of tattoos on his left arm, the multiple pierces in his ear, the tasteful ensemble of dark clothes. You had never seen him before, or maybe you just never noticed him; but how could you not notice someone like that? You handed him the drink and he thanked you with a friendly smile before going on his way.

Instead of gawking at the door like a crazed love struck girl, you untied your apron and ran to the back to get changed. Yoojin, your coworker and good friend was getting off the same time as you. She walked in, punching in her time and grabbing her backpack.

“That’s it!” You snapped, smiling brightly to yourself.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” Your sudden outburst startled her and she gave you a look.

“Sorry, sorry- I just figured it out.” With your hands fiddling in hair you took out the rubber band.

“Figured out what?” She remained baffled.

You grabbed her by the shoulders and laughed, “I’m gonna get a tattoo!” With that you ran out the back.

“You can do this, you can do this, you can do this….” You repeated that phrase in your head and aloud, hopping to hype yourself up. You scheduled your consultation for this evening and after this long day it was finally time. After walking a few blocks you found the spot and quickly stepped into the clean little establishment.

“Hi, - Y/N? You called for the consultation?” You nodded. A guy behind them the front desk who was equally as tattooed as most of the people in here. 

“Right past there are a few couches, you can wait for him there.” Timidly you went where he directed you and took a seat. As you fiddled with your fingers to distract yourself you noticed all of the photos of tattoos and drawings on the wall and for some reason you got nervous. 

“You’re my 5 o'clock right?” That same guy, Jungkook, the one at the cafe that you made a drink for. He must’ve remembered you too, he furrowed his brow and smiled. “Wait - I know you, you work at the cafe a few blocks down, don’t you?” He finally put his finger on it.

“Yeah, I saw you were there yesterday.” You nodded as he took his seat across from you with a clip board, paper and a pen.

“Ah, you were the one that made my drink.” He said.

“Yep,” You squirmed in your seat, biting your lips, “that was me.” 

“It was good by the way…” Your cheeks glowed a subtle rose at the compliment, even if it was for your amazing barista skills you took it to heart. “So, you’re looking to get a tattoo. Do you have your eye on something in particular or are you just looking?”

“Um, I don’t really know, I really like elegant pieces on the back.”

“Yeah, pieces like those are always really pretty, is that what you want?” 

“I think so…” 

“Let me show you some work I’ve done, similar to that.” He pulled a big binder from under the center table and got up to sit next to you. He opened up the well organized binder and flipped a few pages before stopping. You stared in aw at the elegant works of art, most of them were huge; covering most of the back or somewhere on the leg. As much as you hated to admit it, you really couldn’t concentrate on the book when his arm was in full view showcasing the pieces of art. You managed to stutter, “I like that one, I want mine that big.” He peered at the one you pointed at and he nodded in agreement. “That one is one of my personal favorites, it looks simple but it required a lot of precision on my part, it was worth it though.”

“Ok, I can draw something along the the lines of that, to see if you like it, sound good?” You nodded. His hand went to work, the pen moving back and forth with his movements. You sat there, for 15 maybe 20 minutes as he continued to draw the art that will soon be on your body. Oddly enough you weren’t even looking at it, you stared out of the window, watching the people go by; it almost calmed you.

“Done.” He showed you the paper and your mouth hung open in astonishment, how could he come up with this in such a short amount of time.

“It’s beautiful…really, really beautiful. You’re very talented.” You brushed your fingers over the drawing, admiring the little details on gentle creature. It was funny how you could actually see it on yourself, it was literally made for you.

“Thanks, I try to put the canvas into prospective- the canvas being my client of course.” He giggled to himself. “You’d look great with this, it compliments your skin and the overall way you look.” He ripped the papa we out and went to a what looked like a printer. He came back over with a sheet of paper and handed it to you. “So when do you want to set up the appointments.” The question.

“Appointments? More than one?” 

“For a tattoo that big I normally suggest a series of appointments, the pain can be a little much in one day. But we can do it in one day, it’ll be a few hours. How about next Thursday at noon? You’ll be my only appointment.” He was steadily sliding on some gloves as he continued to talk to you.

You mentally viewed your schedule and you were free. “I can do that.”

“Ok, I’ll see you then.”

With a coffee in your hand you sat at a two person table, trying to relax and take your mind off of it you decided to sit in your favorite cafe and draw for a little bit. 

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice chirped from behind you. It was him again, how come you two keep meeting?

“Jungkook? Hi- no, it’s not go ahead.” You smiled gesturing to the seat. He sat across from you with a back pack, and a book in his arm. Was he drawing too? The cafe was usually crowded at this time and you were glad the only free seat was next to you. Although he probably didn’t notice you took every chance you got to look at his face or maybe you were just looking at all of him. It was silent between you two, you both mutual have each other space and you glance at his paper but you couldn’t make out what it was.

“I never caught your name.” He spoke. You looked up sort of timidly, he was looking at you with curious eyes and you took off your reading glasses and sat down your pencil. “Y/N.” You responded softly.

“That’s a pretty name.” That smile. His smile was absolutely breathtaking and the way stared deep into your eyes was charming, even if he wasn’t trying to be.

“Thank you…um your tattoos, they’re really beautiful, did you do them yourself?” You pointed to his left arm where a majority of his tattoos were; subconsciously he touched and looked at them. “I did a few of them, maybe 5 or 6? All free handed too. Free hand is my favorite…it’s relaxing. I see you like to draw.” His gaze drifted over to your paper.

“Oh, yeah it’s…relaxing,” you giggled, “I guess…” 

“Can I see it?” You handed him the paper and his eyes lit up. “You drew this?” You nodded unsure of his reaction. “I love it.” He brought the paper close so he could study it better. “Can I use this? I swear I’ll give you full credit it’s just too good not to be used.” 

“Sure, I don’t mind, keep it. But it really isn’t that good, It’s just a flower…” With a slight smile on your lips you took out your phone and looked at a series of missed texts. You were late for work.  “Shoot, I have to go, I’m gonna be late!” Frantically you there your stuff in your bag and took the last sip of your coffee. “It was nice talking to you!” You waved goodbye as you rushed out of the building before he could respond. 

After your last meeting a few days went by and now today is the day. You were doing it, you were about to get a permanent piece of art on your body. You were proving to yourself you could be adventurous, spontaneous, all of it. You arrived at the shop and stood in front the glass door chewing on your bottom lip. “You can do this…” You pushed open the door and you looked around in confusion. 

“Hello?” Nobody was here, it was empty and silent. Did he give you the wrong time or day. “Jungkook?-” He peeked from a back room smiling at you with his bunny teeth. “Back here sweetheart.” He waved you over.

“Oh, there you are.” You made your way to the room and you saw he had all his equipment ready, it sort of added to your nerves. It’s really happening…

“Do you like it?” He showed you the large outline and you swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, I like it…” Your eyes skimmed over the paper.

“So, you just take off your top and bra and I’ll be back.” When he shut the door you stripped and held your shirt against your chest. 

“Knock, knock,” He knocked on the door and he peeked pass the door “are you ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be…” You kicked your legs mindlessly, awaiting his instruction.

“Lay down for me.” A few seconds went by and his gloved hand your lower back and you shivered upon contact. You felt the thin paper press against your skin along with his warm hand pressing precisely.

“Ok, go see how it looks.” He handed you a hand mirror and you made your way to the mirror holding it up in front of you so you could see the mirror through the one in your hand. It was big, it reached a few inches from your shoulder and lower back. It was big. 

“Do you like the placement?” He voiced from his stool, you could see him eyeing you through the mirror. He seemed to have taken a liking to your figure but he kept it at bay, diverting his eyes when you turned around.

“Yeah, i-it's good.” You got up on the cushiony table, laying flat in front of him. You could hear him fiddling with the needle and you were trying to steady your breathing.

“Don’t be nervous baby girl, it’s not too bad.” He pat your shoulder in a friendly way, trying to comfort you and soothe your nerves but it did very little to help you. “Everyone gets a little nervous on their first time. If it gets too much I can give you some Advil or we can finish up another day.” He suggested. You nodded quickly, but he was getting the feeling that you weren’t prepared for this. Taking a deep breath he turned the needle on and the sound alone gaze you freaking out, you were tense and just as the needle was about to touch your skin you panicked.

“Stop, stop, stop. I can’t do it…” You sat up, burying your face in your hands and he put the needle down in shock. You wiped the stray tears from your face as you also tried to keep your decency in tact. He rubbed your thigh in concern, “Hey, it’s ok, don’t cry…do you not like the tattoo? Is it too big? You could’ve told me, I would’ve drawn you something different-”

“No, it’s not that…I-I Just don’t know what I’m doing here.” You turned around so that your back was the only thing facing him and changed quickly. He watched you situate yourself, he didn’t have a clue where this was coming from.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time, really I am but I don’t wanna do this anymore.” You took deliberate steps to the door but you got jerked back by his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait, please. Can you at least talk to me about it? I just wanna help…” His doe eyes bore into you like a begging puppy, you were tempted to say no but how could you? “Fine…” With his hand still on your wrist he led you to sit back down and he sat beside you. 

“If it’s not the tattoo, what is it? Is it me?” He hoped it wasn’t.

“Of course it’s not you. It’s me.” You deadpanned.

“You? I don’t understand-”

“I’m not like most of the people around here Jungkook, I don’t go out a lot, I traveled half across the world and I still feel like I’m missing out, there’s not much to me…I’ve never done this before, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do something different or at least have a little fun for once in my life- but I can’t…” Your head hung low as you looked down at your fingers, how could you get like this in front of him? You were just burdening him with your own personal problems. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be telling you this…I should go…” You ease off the table and stand there for a good few seconds.

“No, you shouldn’t.” He stood up, towering over you with hopeful eyes. “You should go to lunch with me…My treat?” Although your were taken and your first instinct was to say yes- no, scream yes but you held your self together. “Ok…” 

A few weeks went by and you can say you’ve never met someone who looked at you the way he did. The past few weeks you had come to grow fond of his random late night texts, the times he’d steal you from home even if he knew you were studying. Sometimes on the weekend he’d come to the apartment just to watch tv with you, regardless of how crazy or cheesy the flics were you two would poke fun at them together. A majority of the time the night would end with you waking him up and telling him to go home or him convincing you to let him stay the night, you were the one to give in most of the time. You’d rarely go to his tattoo shop anymore, not since that first appointment. He said he wasn’t bothered by it but you knew he’d like it if you’d eat lunch with him sometimes. During lunch break you’d both go to the same place and bring your food back to your jobs. He’d ask you to come over sometimes and even though your excuses not to go were terrible he went with them anyway.

Your phone vibrated on your bed and you held it up to your face as you tried to shake of your sleepy eyesight. message from Jungkook 



good morning angel

morning lovely

r u still sleeping ?


hey are u alive bby?



if you r alv can u come by

can u come by the shop??? 

I’m coming to your room window with a rock if you don’t respond in 2 mins

“Huh..” You sighed.

It’s a saturday…dont make me go anywhr

pleaseee it wont tak long

fine, be there in 15. You went to take your shower and get dressed in a comfy pair of jeans and a t shirt. You didn’t feel like going throught he hassle of making breakfast so you grabbed a banana and went out the door.

You walked into to the back room where he always was and there he was on his phone. When he caught your gaze he immediately got up to embrace you. “Hi baby.” He kissed your forehead playfully. “I have something to show you.” He took you by the hand and into the room you were gonna get tattooed in. 

“What is it?” You were anxious onto what it might be and by the excitement in his face it must’ve been good. 

“Tah-dah!” He pulled down his shirt, exposing the front of his shoulder to you with a huge smile.

“Oh my g- Jungkook, is that my drawing?…” Your mouth hung open in shock; you got closer and touched the still slightly red skin around the flower a few centimeters from his collar bone. “You liked it that much?…” 

“Yeah, I got it done  yesterday and I just couldn’t wait any longer to show you. When I told you I loved it I really meant it, I’ve been looking for something different and your flower was perfect.” He couldn’t keep a smile from forming on his lips. 

“Jungkook, that’s really sweet…” You wrapped your arms around his neck and his went to your waist, pulling him in for a warm hug and you two just stood there, enjoying each others hold.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. I have an idea for a tattoo that would be perfect for you.” You rested your hands on his chest.

“I don’t know, if I get one I want to be sure that I love it, without a doubt…you know?” You laid your head on his shoulder and he subconsciously tapped the pads of his fingers on your back.

“Can I give you a tattoo? Just a small one, I have just the one in mind for you…”

“Ok, fine.”

“Really?” You were as shocked as him to be honest. As soon as you nodded he had the needle ready, gloves and you sat down. He had this planned, you thought but you’ll let it slide. As he began the process you both agreed on the perfect place for it, and he started. The pain was fairly bearable, especially since you weren’t a panicking mess, you trusted him.

“All done, it looks beautiful.” You sat there for maybe an hour and he finally set you free. And your heart was pounding out of your chest, you hadn’t gotten a glimpse of it and now was the big reveal. You got up unsteadily and trudged over to the mirror.

“A flower?…” You gawked at it in the mirror, admiring every little detail, in your opinion it was for more creative than yours. He watched you look at the tattoo and he was getting a little nervous, did you like it? Did you hate it?

“You do like it, right? I thought since you like to draw plants and things like that I’d-” 

“Thank you, I love it, I love it,” Wrapping yours arms around his torso you cut him off. He pecked your pinkish lips making a light tint of blush appear on your cheeks. “I’m glad I was getting a little scared there. You really do love it?”  

You nodded. “it’s perfect.”

❀ ✿ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃ ❋❀ ✿ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃ ❋

anonymous asked:

Hey there! A while ago I asked you about the size of your canvas and I've noticed you haven't answered You probably didnt see it;;; But if you did: I'm very sorry if my question was too dumb to answer. I'm very sorry if I seemed demanding. I am very sorry for any inconvenience that I might have not realized, I admire you a lot and I didn't mean to say anything at all that might make you uncomfortable, Hope you have a great day/evening/night!

ksdhbcsdck omg please don’t ever think a question is ever too dumb, I probably just didn’t see it due to tumblr eating it up or have answered it before! For the canvas of my comic I use 3000x 2482 pixels!! ^_^

Hello Vel! I’m a huge fan of your artworks and I absloutly LOVE all of them. I have a question though…. Can I please, PLEASE use the Undertale Intro comic you’ve made for a DIY I’ve been working on recently? I’m actually trying to make my own book/notebook, and the comic you’ve made is just, perfection. So pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee???

Go for it my dude!

is that trans shiro bc it certainly looks like trans shiro

In this house we support trans shiro (and any other possible goodTM shiro headcanons) but yea all my shiros are always trans ^^;;

Have you heard about the prequel for Life is strange? What are your thoughts on it?

I’m excited to suffer

2571: “4:12″

Request by @thegirlwiththemaleficient-tattoo: Long time listener, first time caller ;) For your celebration…#2571 "But that’s my favorite one!“ Love your writing by the way 😍

Word Count: 859

A/N: I figured that since I’m nearly halfway to my next thousand followers, I should probably finish my 4000 follower challenge. So here’s the last drabble for that celebration! And Switchfoot… Switchfoot is one of those bands that has always been there for me. My brothers loved the band, so I grew up listening to them. They’re my comfort music. They’re my childhood and my home. They’re simpler times. Also, I found myself awake at 4 am with this song running through my head and couldn’t get back to sleep until I wrote this. Talk about getting in the zone!

Version en Español:“4:12″

Song 2571: 4:12 by Switchfoot

When is a tree not a tree? When it’s a splotch of paint on a canvas. You hadn’t actually meant to paint a tree. It just kinda happened. Life is funny that way. It just kinda happens. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes you sleep through the night and sometimes you wake up in the wee hours of morning and can’t get back to sleep. So you paint in a futile attempt to organize the mush of voices, memories, and thoughts that invade your every waking moment.

“Dude, how long have you been awake?”

Dean’s voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. He mumbled an apology while he ran his fingers through his bed-mussed hair and leaned against your door jamb.

“What time is it?” You couldn’t rightly answer his question since you’d kind of lost track of time while painting your tree that wasn’t a tree and wasn’t actually meant to be a tree.

“Almost nine. And I know that canvas was blank last night so…”

“Um.” You shook your head and tried to reconcile the numbers in your head. “Five hours? I dunno. I woke up around four.”

“Right. Because four in the morning is tree-painting time. How could I forget?” Dean ambled into your room and settled himself on your bed, pushing your pillows against the wall and lounging back. “When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”

“I’m a hunter, so… probably when I was eleven?”

You meant it as a joke, but Dean knew you too well. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re a hunter, and we have a safe place to sleep every night. You need your sleep if you’re gonna be able to fight.”

“I know.” With a heavy sigh, you sat on your bed and let Dean pull you back into his chest. “I just can’t get it out of my head long enough to sleep.”


“Life. It doesn’t make sense on a good day, then you add a sleep-deprived, artist’s brain with insomnia to the mix and four a.m. rolls around every day and suddenly I just understand it even less.” A glance at the ever growing pile of canvases against your wall showed your attempts to understand everything. You pushed away from Dean and walked over, flipping through the canvases. “I should probably get rid of some of these. They aren’t doing much good here.”

Dean came over and plucked one of the smaller canvases from the stack. “Why’d you paint this one?”

“We’d just gotten done with that one hunt in Missoula and I was trying to capture how that mother must have felt when we brought her daughter back to her.” You tilted your head and regarded the splatter of pastel colors that slightly resembled a flower. “But it’s just a flower.”

“It’s hopeful,” Dean muttered.

You decided to let his critique of your work slide. Who knew that Dean Winchester could see something like hope in a flower? Instead, you grabbed another canvas and held it up. “And this one came out of our hunt in Tallahassee when we were too late to save that family.”

All that came out of that early-morning painting daze was a vast, desolate landscape.

“I really need to get rid of these,” you mumbled, starting to sort through the dozens of paint-ridden canvases. While you put most of the paintings in a pile to get rid of, Dean took his time perusing your artwork.

“Wait! Not that one,” Dean exclaimed, reaching out to grab the medium sized canvas that held bright streaks of abstract color.

“It’s just a painting, Dean.” It’s not like it was anything special. It was all material and didn’t matter in the long run.

“But that’s my favorite one,” he countered, setting the painting on an empty easel and stepping back to regard it.

Curious, especially after his hopeful comment, you stepped up beside him and eyed the picture. “Why?”

“Because—“ he cut off and a pink blush tinged his cheeks.

“What is it?” This time you could barely whisper. Whatever his reason, Dean really felt something for this painting. Something you had created had also created an emotional link in Dean Winchester. Sure, nothing in the world made sense, and nothing would last. But just knowing that you’d managed to touch Dean like that made everything seem a little brighter.

“It’s my favorite because you painted us three, right? You, me, and Sam?”

“I—“ This time it was your turn to cut off and think about your answer. He was right, of course. You’d tried to capture the essence of your souls. After the hunt with the soul-devouring monster, you’d wondered what your soul would look like. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “I’d recognize us anywhere.”

If Dean could see you and Sam from a couple of dark paint splotches on a canvas, then maybe it didn’t matter that the world was so nonsensical. Maybe all that mattered was how you saw the world. As long as you could still see how the colors bleed into shapes and sounds, maybe you could get through this life. 

Lyrics & Tags Under the Cut

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THE GLOAMING (1994) by Michael Whelan

Oils on canvas - 48" x 36"

I actually saw these clouds from my backyard late one summer evening, and they inspired me to come right inside and paint the scene. They didn’t look entirely real when I saw them, and the mysterious quality of the light made me want to document them in a larger project.

As an experiment, I used a homemade medium that included plenty of poppyseed oil, for its non-yellowing properties. It’s also an extremely slow drier–it must have taken four weeks for the painting to dry to the touch.


Art School | Q&A with Luke Pelletier (LA)

Hawaiian shirts, toucans, palm trees, tiki drinks, alligators, and panthers are just a few of the characters you’ll find in Los Angeles based artist and musician Luke Pelletier’s works.  Creating fun, bold, and brightly colored scenes from an imagined paradise, Luke has done collaborations with Valley Cruise Press, Mike Vallely, and most recently with Darkstar skateboards.  We’re excited to have him in our Art School Q&A where we talk about his recent trip to Milan, his band The See Ya Laters, and his process and approach to painting. 

Portrait by Broza Photo

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So I got a professional super-high quality scan made of this drawing in black & white to save, and then went ahead and colored the original.  I didn’t think the color would be better than the black & white, but I think I actually like it better!  

I’m super happy with this.  Like, SUPER HAPPY.  It might be one of the best things I’ve ever drawn, and not just because it’s Kristoff.  ;)

By the way, since this is now digitally stored at the professional graphics company, I can get super-high quality digital prints made, and even Giclée prints on fancy paper/canvas/etc.  So, if anyone is interested in buying a very, very nice copy of this (either color OR black & white!), please do let me know!  :D

Copic marker and Copic multiliner on 14 x 17″ smooth bristol board.


I remember once, when I was nine or thirteen, my best friend Joanna and I lay softly on the golden green grass of the Big Hill that rose up behind our houses, grated cheese sandwiches clutched in our small hands as loose pieces of salad tomatoes slipped out the bottom, between the slices. We didn’t wear cotton summer dresses, with bows on the back and lace around the trim. Instead we favoured denim dungarees, and velcro fastened skateboard trainers, our t shirts and socks emblazoned with transfers of our favourite sci fi characters that were hidden under our additional layers, but were none the less important because we knew they were there.

The night grew around us, the black sky swirling up the hill and hugging us in darkness and the mysterious spirit of adventure. Our parents would worry about us, out there so late. Well, my mum would anyway; Joanna’s parents always seemed so cool, so blasé. I wished they were mine, instead.

Pondering the shapes and patterns formed by the stars, we made out cars and buildings and built a city right there, on the charcoal canvas, painting with the chalk of our young minds like we did on the lazy days when our flagstone driveways were bright with zoos of animals and half finished hopscotch games.

Suddenly, the brightest stars seemed to move, and I realised that I might actually be quite tired. But Joanna said she saw them too, and she told me it was magic, and I don’t know if it was the way she held my hand or if it was the way her eyes shone with such violent wonder through her curled fringe, but I believed her. The stars were alive, just as we were, dancing around one another in loops and performing their great display; and I didn’t want to go home.

Sometimes, I miss that time I’ve almost forgotten when it was so easy to believe that magic was real. And sometimes, I don’t miss it at all.


member- yoongi

genre- fluff, au

words- 2, 184

summary- “I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I painted you?” blind!yoongi  

a/n- this is my first ever scenario here on tumblr, so i hope you enjoy this!

Originally posted by exostopexono

You see him all the time. Whether it’s hanging out on the far side of the campus green with his friends- which is coincidentally right by the college’s art studio- or sitting silently in the back of your late night psychology class. He’s everywhere you look, and you know that you shouldn’t let yourself feel more than a tiny crush for him, but you just can’t help it. 

You notice details about him. It’s what you do, being an artist and all. You notice the way his hair shines in the afternoon sun, and the way he uses his hands to feel everything so intricately. It makes you stare in awe as he runs his long, slim fingers run over grooves and bumps on objects as he recognizes what they are. You notice the way he was gentle and careful with everything he does, and the way he doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Everything about him was beautiful.

And that’s precisely how you ended up where you were now. 

“C'mon, Y/N, you can do it,” you said under your breath. Just ten feet away from you stood Min Yoongi, the boy you had the biggest crush on. He was standing in the cafeteria line with his one of his younger friends, and they were laughing about something. You were trying to work up the courage and ask him a simple question- “Can I paint you for an art project?” But you could not get yourself to take the few steps over to him. 

You paid for your meal in advance and grabbed a plate, walking into the self-serve dining area. Just  moments before, Yoongi and his friend had entered the area, and you knew now was your time to catch him when he’s not busy or surrounded by a lot of people. After scanning the room, you spot him by the pizza bar, going by his memory to grab a few slices of pepperoni. You notice his friend isn’t far away and he’s alone. You suck in a breath. It’s now or never.
Your feet take you to your destination while your brain tries to conjure up a way to ask him to be your model without sounding creepy or stupid. If only you had a mutual friend, or someone…

“Whoa, watch out,” a voice suddenly says and you shake your head to make your brain focus on reality. Standing right in front of you, looking a bit irritated, is Yoongi. You guess you had subconsciously walked all the way to him…and by all the way, you mean all the way. His plate full of food is now on the ground and he’s frowning. 

“Oh my God, ah, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, shit,” you ramble out quickly, immediately dropping to pick up the plate and pizza. Your hands are shaking as you set his plate with the dirty food onto a nearby bar. “Here, have my plate, I haven’t used it yet. I-I wasn’t going to use it at all, actually, so y-you can have it.“ 

He doesn’t make any action to reach up and take your plate, but instead crosses his arms. “Why did you come to the cafeteria if you weren’t going to get food?" 

You twist your hands nervously. "Well, I needed to ask someone…uh, well, you, a question. But, it’s okay, nevermind. Uh, sorry-" 

"What’s your name?” he asks suddenly. You’re sure you look like a freak currently, but then again, Min Yoongi was asking for your name. 

“Y/N. My name is Y/N,” you tell him shyly and he nods. 

“You’re in my psychology class, right?” You nod, but then realize that can’t see you and instead squeak out a yes. He smirks. “Okay, now I’ve asked you a total of three questions so you can ask me one back." 

"Uh, okay.” You take a deep breath. “So, basically, I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I painted you?” you blurt out quickly, immediately putting your head in your hands. “Wait, I mean, it’s for my semester project, and  I have to do a portrait and I just-”

“Okay,” he says. 

You look up while raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Okay?" 

"Okay, you can paint me. Just tell me when and where,” he replied and pulled out a phone from his back pocket. 

“Really? Oh my God, thank you so much! And, uhm, I have a spot reserved at the art studio reserved for Saturday at three. You don’t have classes do you?” You pull out your phone as well as he types in your answer and has it read it back to him. 

“Nope, I’m free. I’ll see you then, Y/N,” he says as he puts his phone back in his pocket. He begins to walk away, but you grab his arm gently, which makes him jump a little and stop. 

“Wait, seriously, take my plate. I didn’t mean to knock yours down,” you tell him and push your empty plate into his hand. He smiles ever so slightly and grips it.

“Thanks. I’ll see you Friday.” With that, he walks back in the direction he came from where his friend is now walking towards him while stealing glances at you. You blush and grab his previous plate and put it on the cleaning rotation. You walk out of the cafeteria with a huge smile on your face.

You’ll have Min Yoongi all to yourself for two hours on Saturday, and you couldn’t be more excited.


You’re a nervous wreck by the time Saturday rolls by. You had splurged and purchased some more expensive paint than the school offered you and you had made a long playlist that had a lot of your favorite songs you liked to listen to while painting. You had even done your hair nicely, even though he would never see it. It was more of a personal confidence boost, anyway. 

When the clock strikes three, you get nervous. It’s irrational, but you automatically think that he isn’t coming. You’re absolutely relived when the door opens five minutes later and Yoongi walks in, being directed by another one of his friends. He thanks them and they leave after giving him a pat on the back. You smile and approach him. “Hi,” you greet. 

“Hey.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and awkwardly sways back and forth. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“Oh yeah!” You go over and prep his seat a little before rushing back over to him. “I’m just going to direct you to this seat over here, is that okay?” He nods and you take a hold on his forearm. You lead him to the loveseat and tell him it’s okay to sit down. He does as you say and then looks up in your general direction. 

“What do I actually need to do? Do I pose?” he asks you. 

“No, just sit there and act natural. I’ll try to talk to you some so you don’t get too bored. But I do have some music playing so maybe it won’t be too bad,” you answer and he nods, leaning back a little.

You take a seat at your canvas and take a deep breath. He looks gorgeous, as always. He somehow made a plain white t-shirt look designer, and you had to fight the urge to kiss his perfect pink lips that always seemed to be turned up into a tiny smirk. The way the light filtered through the huge art studio made him look ethereal. It reflected off his skin and captured his wonderful blonde hair in the beams, making him look the Greek God Apollo himself. You honestly couldn’t believe you were going to paint him.

You sit in silence for a little bit while you outline and test colors.  You keep stealing glances as you begin to paint him to your best ability. You can feel yourself blushing from looking at him so many times. Thank God he couldn’t see you. 

“Just the fact that I know you keep looking at me is making me nervous,” he suddenly says and you nearly smear your paint as the words leave his mouth.  

“W-Why?” you stutter and hide momentarily behind your canvas. 

“Because you’re sweet, and I also know you’re very pretty,” he replies bluntly. You nearly squeal with happiness, but keep it all inside.

“H-How?” you ask hesitantly. 

“My friend, Jimin, saw you in the cafeteria yesterday and asked me how I got to talk to such a beautiful girl. And today when I told my friend Jin that I was coming here to get painted by you, he called me lucky,” he explained and you felt your whole face turn hot. You didn’t feel like you were that attractive. But according to his friends- who were very handsome themselves- you were pretty. 

“Oh, wow,” you mumble and continue with your art shyly. You hear him chuckle. 

“You don’t believe you’re pretty, do you?” he asks. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m ugly, but uh, I mean, I’m nothing really special,” you say, completely flustered. He hums and shakes his head as you begin painting his gorgeous dark brown eyes. 

“I can tell your pretty all by myself. Your ambiance is bright and calming, and you get very flustered when I talk to you,” he tells you and you feel like burying your face in a pillow. How is this happening to you, of all people. 

“Thank you…I don’t know what to say.” You can tell his compliments are genuine. He doesn’t seem like to type to say something he doesn’t mean. 

You work in silence- besides the music- for the rest of the time, only occasionally asking him if he’s okay or if he needs anything. He always says no. You work diligently, trying to get the perfect skin tone and to accentuate his most flattering features. Before you know it, a portrait of Min Yoongi sat right in front of you. And you didn’t want to brag, but it was one of the best paintings you have ever done. You were proud. 

“I finished it,” you whispered in awe. 

“Does it look good?” he replies and you nod, forgetting he can’t see you again.

“It’s the best piece I’ve ever done,” you admit and you can see him smile on of his rare, beautiful smiles. 

“What colors did you use?” he suddenly asks and you’re taken aback at first. He notices your small shock and speaks again. “No, I’ve never seen color. But people have described it to me before." 

"Oh…” you whisper and then approach him. “I’m gonna sit by you, okay?” He nods and you sit down. He’s so close to you, and you can actually see the individual lashes that adorn his eyes. “I used a shade of yellow for your hair, and-”

“Explain yellow to me.” He looks towards you and you are, again, taken aback. But you tell him okay and think for a moment. 

“Well, yellow is that feeling when you walk outside an air-conditioned building and into the sunlight. That warmth and feeling on your skin is yellow. Yellow is also when you’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt and your stomach has butterflies. That feeling of pure happiness and joy is yellow,” you explain to the best of your ability and you notice he’s listening intently. 

“What other colors did you use?” he presses on. You smile. 

“Well, I used red for your lips. Red is when you walk into your living room at Christmas time and smell the sweet cinnamon your mom’s baked goods from the kitchen. When she hugs you tightly, you can feel red. But red is also when you’re so mad that you think that your body is going to explode. It’s the feeling that you’re out of control and nothing is going your way and you just think that you’re going to punch the next person who speaks to you. That’s red,” you say with a bit more confidence. 

“Are your lips red too?” he whispers and you whisper back a tiny yes. He reaches up and touches your bottom lip before bringing his face close to yours. You fill in the space and instantly, you can feel yellow and red mixed together with a little bit of blue, because his lips are so cold compared to yours. His hands find their way to cradle the sides of your face and you’re now very aware of what it’s like to feel all the colors at once. 

When you both pull away, you rest your foreheads on each other’s. You’re both panting a little bit, since you both seemed to have lost your breath. Yoongi takes one of his hands and pushes a chunk of your loose hair behind your ear carefully and gives you another short kiss. He gives you a small smile.

“I suddenly have a whole new meaning of color." 


Every artist, a painter, writer, sculptor, it doesn’t matter what type knows one thing; inspiration is a bitch. It comes and hits you usually when you can’t create or at three on the morning, and the leaves you with ideas but no way to develop them. Trying to matain your artistic career on inspiration is unrealistic, and Baz knows it very well. The problem is that he was block. If someone was more of an asshole than inspiration it was a an artistic block. Every thing he wrote was either too cliché, not original or just straight up shit. It was driving him nuts. 

He had tried everything to unblock his mind, no results yet. Key word; yet. In his mind there was still one thing other than throwing his computer in to the ocean. 


Baz sat down in the shade of a tree. He inhale and exhale deeply. Stare and listen to his surroundings. Nothing but birds and wind. Nothing but the sky painted on light blue, and the sun shinning bright behind him. The grass was bright green, soft at his touch, and tress that tall and small enough to climb if he wanted. Baz smiled at the peace around him. It was a small hill, he had gone a couple of time when he needed just silence. To breath out the stress of people.

He put his notebook on his lap, he took out his perfectly sharped pencil. His attention finally on the blank paper. Ok here it goes. 

Seconds pass, and his pencil was tapping on the notebook.

Maybe a man who killed his family.

Tap. No, too cliché.

Maybe a girl on drugs wakes up surrounded by blood and doesn’t remember what happened last night.

Tap. Did she killed her family? 

Maybe a…

Tap. Fuck it.

Fuck this.

Fuck everything. 

The pencil ended up somewhere far Baz. 

Baz rested his head on the tree, with eyes close, cursing on everything on this earth he could think of. When a not so natural sound alert him.

Great, people. 

Baz open his eyes looking at the source of the sound. The weird click, and steps. In front of him there was a boy. A very pretty boy Baz would say. In front of him a canvas, with something already painted on it. Baz realized the click was probably the easel. 

Baz cursed under his breath, already packing his things to go. Time to time stopping to glare at the guy, who had already started painting. He would pick colors without hesitating, change brushes from the pockets of the cloth on him. Still Baz could see his white T-shirt was full of paint too. Then the blond boy laugh as Baz was closing his notebook, when he accidentally painted his face.

What about a Romeo and Juliet type of story? 

And just like that, as if lighting had stroke him. Baz was full of words again.

A pair of twisted lovers, who believed to be doom, separated by their destiny, curse by the world. So death surrounds them.

Then again Baz was twisted, perturbed even. Since he was young and started wrtting he had heard it. His passion was suspense, death, scary in his best days. 

He would have to edit later but, he felt full, happy. Finally. 


His name is Simon. Simon Snow. 

Well that’s the name he sign the painting at least. It was the sunset from the hill. Baz was close enough a week later, when the guy finished it. It looked as real as photo, only that a photo wouldn’t have look so magical. 

Baz had been coming everyday at the hill, same hour every time that week(his inspiration had been in a good streak, and he was going to hold on to it as much as he could), and had seen the same sunset as that guy but through the painting it was like he had miss something from another world. 

Well to be fair, Baz had spent most of time writing and looking at his muse for inspiration. And maybe he hadn’t lost a beautiful sight. 


The next week, Snow(Simon was too intimate for a guy you barely know his name), had sat in the tree in front of Baz. It made writing harder but Baz realized every time he would look at the painter, he was so focus on the notebook, drawing. His blond messy curls would fall in his face, he would frown his eyebrows when he made a mistakes, and bite his pencil while erasing. Sometimes, when Baz felt blessed by the sky, he would see a glance of the boy’s eyes, blue. A deep blue, penetrating blue.

The worse was when later after a couple of weeks more between sketches and canvas(smiles and hypnotic blues). In one sketch day, the boy seem rush, probably coming from somewhere. Not wearing a cloth fill with drops of random paint. Instead he had a blue pastel jacket, tight jeans and a white T-shirt with big bold black letters “i don’t really care.” Although that wasn’t what left Baz writing an actually passionate, romantic scene. It was the piercing. He had a bloody lip piercing. It made Baz think on how tall the hill actually was and how much would it hurt to fall from there, especially when instead of biting his pencil he would bite his lip.

Baz tried so hard to not look, but damn that boy. That boy asked to be looked at. He was a fucking masterpiece from the heavens, it was a sin not look at him. 

He was Baz’s muse. He was a sun of inspiration and fantasies, always shinning. And at this point Baz didn’t exactly too much mind burning.


Baz was late. Too late. 

Simon wasn’t there anymore.

Baz began cursing out of breath from running, until he saw that in his usual spot there was a paper pasted to the tree. 

His heart was running fast as he walked closer to it. Then stopped. 

It was a portrait, of him. Baz was sitting, resting on nothing, one leg spread and in the other one his notebook. Pencil on one hand, smiling, and the other putting back some hairs out of his ponytail. His face was so detailed. Everything was. 

Just like in the painting, Baz felt that he was missing something, something he failed to see in the mirror if that’s how that pretty boy saw him like.

There was something written in the back. The letter was messy, horrible but in someway fitting for someone like him.

“Dear stranger;

This is the one I like the most(there is more of this?), the least embarrassing too…

I would have colour it but I fell you are more of black and white type of guy. 

Yeah…this is my thanks to you. 

I feel inspiration when you are around, I want to paint and draw every part of the world close to you…even when I spend a lot of time watching you write(you write right? I wish I knew what do you write).

This is weird, I’m sorry…I just thought you deserved a thank you…

So yeah thank you.

~Simon Snow.

Oh fuck.

(Sorry if there’s any grammar or spealling mistakes, I tried the best to correct all of them.)

half-man-half-lime  asked:

So it's gotta be the kid's coma dream, right? And the Batter is something like an immune system or the chemo or something shutting down the brain bit by bit? Or do you think it's something else?

(Lotsa spoilers here for anyone who hasn’t played OFF yet but is planning to, so watch out) 

I don’t have a hard idea of what I think the world of OFF actually is. Mortis Ghost has made it clear that it is very open to interpretation. It sounds like he has his own idea about it, but he has no interest in sharing it specifically because he wants players to be able to think about things and come up with their own interpretations. So when things are super open to interpretation like this, I don’t really commit myself to a specific interpretation and look at is mostly as an ambiguous canvas that we can draw numerous interpretations from. 

ANYWAY, looking at the interpretation that the world of OFF is the body/mind of a terminally ill child… if anything I would interpret that Batter not as as form of treatment like chemotherapy, but as death itself in some form. Because the guardians of the zones… they kept things running, right? If anything they would represent whatever treatment the kid was receiving–something that came with painful side effects but kept the child alive. Dedan’s zone made the smoke, plastic, metal, and meat that made up their world. With the exception of meat, those are non-biological things associated with factories, pollution, and artificial constructions. They’re unnatural but they were necessary for the world to exist. Zone 2 could easily represent the brain, as it was the location of the great library, the center of knowledge. Yet Zone 2 was filled with books with torn pages, an a guardian who was in mental decline and the people couldn’t even recognize who he was anymore. I’m not even sure how to touch of Zone 3 and it’s themes of addiction and the recycling of dead bodies. 

But in any case, the Zones of OFF were dirty, barely functioning places… but they kept the world in existence. Without the guardians and what they were responsible for producing/maintaining, the world stopped existing. It became “purified”, and purification basically equaled death. I remember the first time I “purified” an Elsen in the game. Before that we had only purified spectres, who were intangible ghosts. I was expecting that the Elsen would be freed from the corruption that was possessing it, but nope–it simply died. The Batter couldn’t “purify” anything. He could only kill things. That was his whole mission. To shut everything down. No more plastic, no more torn up books, no more suffering, no more dark to be afraid of. No more anything at all. 

That interpretation is a pretty obvious one. What’s in greater question though is why. Was the Batter representative of the child’s inevitable death? Did he have no feelings about anything at all because he was simply a force of nature–the inevitability of death overcoming a child’s struggle to survive?
Or was the Batter representative of the child’s own father, with the Queen representing his Mother trying desperately to keep Hugo alive? And in that case, was the Batter a figure of mercy, allowing the child to finally be free from his constant suffering? Or, we could imagine that the Batter represents Hugo’s father giving up on him prematurely–deciding on his own that Hugo wouldn’t be able to survive, wouldn’t be able to make it through, and decided to put an end to things himself. 

Again, I’m not really committed to any one of these interpretations. But I do like to be able to consider all the possibilities and look at the different potentials for what things could be. Like, Mortis Ghost confirmed that the Batter didn’t actually look like that warped monster in the special ending–it was just our impression of him that had changed. And I like that a lot because it opened the door to the possibility that nothing we saw as a monster in the game actually was. All the corrupted Elsens? The ones who got angry at us, the ones who were going through withdrawal, the ones who were broken down and pleading for help? Did we only see them as corrupted monsters because that’s how the Batter saw them? Was the Batter really destroying creatures that needed to be destroyed, or was he so dedicated to his misguided, moral crusade that he went around destroying any perceived corruption whether it actually needed to be or not? (And if that’s the situation, then that enables the interpretation that the Batter was Hugo’s immune system, but a dysfunctional one that ultimately killed him in a blind, misguided attempt to do its job) 

We’ll never know, and there isn’t really a correct interpretation anyway. But it’s interesting to consider it all and try to make the best sense of it we can 

The “females” of Outlast 2

In the game it is hard to sometimes find Lynn and Jessica to be interesting. Not that they are not interesting or they have no capacity to be interesting. The game made their presence liminal. It is somewhat excised or blotted out; like some canvas placed in from of the gamers seeing only a cutout of who they are. A lot of people like Jessica. That is actually understandable. Jessica is more than how Blake remembered her and we see this only in the last memory titled in the game “Father Loutermilch.”

 Blake remembers Jessica to be always crying, sad and practically helpless. In some ways, that is his way of looking at Jessica not necessarily who Jessica is. This is fully there when the game ends and also when the memory finally comes back. Jessica is, as that idiot Loutermilch stated, “resilient.” She doesn’t listen to anyone and she takes no one’s antagonistic views about her. She doesn’t take it from Loutermilch, from her father or the counselor Shelly Parham. 

She is a a very ambitious and also strong girl who obviously would still get hurt being sexualised. If the realisation of her abuse caused Blake this much trauma that we play the most haunted, scary parts of the game as his vulnerable and hurt psyche think of how Jessica, being only nine or ten years old, still trying to be able to have fun with Blake and Lynn even though she is facing this sort of abuse. The fact she can even tolerate Blake and Lynn is a sign she has perseverance. 

So, Blake usually just remembers her in one scene of life — which are fragments of her death and her abuse being told. He doesn’t know her beyond that it seems or remember those moments. She is quite inhibited as a person in the school. In a similar way, we only know Lynn when this trauma started. She is obviously scared and panicked, naturally, so is Blake. She doesn’t want to talk about what the people in the cult did to her and that is normal. Though before that scene you see how ambitious she is in getting her story and how she pretty much doesn’t lack initiative. In fact, Lynn even escapes her captors and Blake has to be the one saying to Lynn where they are going but Lynn doesn’t need a concrete plan to move forward. She just does. Similarly, so does Jessica. 

In some ways, this is a loosely general way of seeing males and females, that males need more defined goals to move forward but women always don’t. Obviously, cisgender males are not all like this neither are transgender males nor are cisgender women and transgender women. Of course, Val being a person of gender ambiguity pretty much also presents that. Their goal is to live for the arrival of the antichrist. Val seems to want to like chaos for chaos sake because to them that has more meaning that “righteous violence” being used by Knoth. Val has both an aim and also no aim. 

They believe “righteous violence” lacks meaning even if it has direction, to rid world of the antichrist, though at the same time, Knoth and his cult believe apocalypse will happen either way. For preparation for the end of days Knoth and his cult performs mass suicide. Val, themselves, think God abandons the dead and thinks they will have to stay for the children when God has abandoned them. So, Val likes the idea of chaos as an “embrace” and not “abandonment” which is understandable. It seems Val shows that lack of actual intimacy among the people of The Testament of New Ezekial is so pathological that it becomes a disease in its own right. 

Val seems to also hate the infanticide. At the same time, they also hate when the children are separated from their parents when their parents have become Scalled. Though, Val is happy to play their paternal figure because they cannot have children of their own. They think it is an injustice to be “barren” when they have so much love to give. Who knows if their infertility is actually a side effect of the radio towers. No other people have suffered from it so Val is pretty much the only recognisable Variant around. We could say Marta to an extent, due to their size and all. Though, some of their thoughts are clear we do not necessarily know their origins. Similarly, we do not know if there have been other “infertile” or “variant” people in the game. Laird and Nick are not shown to have had children. Yet, we cannot exclude them from having any. At the same time, in an earlier post, I theorised how this “engine” or towers are different to the Morphogenic one in that it wants uniformity, as subjects and similar minded projectors, not variants. So, perhaps, like Blake is chased by a demonic entity other variants are also culled eventually by the radio signals. Or, they are persecuted by the cultists or heretics.  

Lynn and Jessica are not fully fleshed by the game. One has to really read into the game to understand or even get some impression of them. Jessica is too enclosed by the school to really know her outside one incident. We get to know her from a loose narrative and in that loose narrative usually it is that school on that particular day that Blake mostly reaches. Nothing else. Though, I think we can read both Lynn and Jessica as more resourceful than Blake. Probably, he admired and looked up to both of them. Obviously, he seems dedicated and admires Lynn a lot. From an early age, he seemed to really like Lynn. Photos show he was really close to both Jessica and Lynn. It is nice that Blake actually is not misogynistic and that he even does not underestimate females as even shown by his attitude towards Marta (well, it is hard to underestimate Marta, even her own cult fears her but it just seems he doesn’t underestimates females in general). 

Blake also shows a sign of understanding to Val, who he may see also as somewhat female. The unused dialogue that we have of Blake saying Val died said they died laughing and if there was a hell “Val wouldn’t mind” as he thinks Val was just waiting for it. Though, he sounds resentful even sarcastic he also seems to get them. Though, obviously, by this point I think Val has also raped Blake (it is heavily implied) and so Blake doing even this pretty much also shows his perseverance. Perhaps the trio of them since school days have always been resilient. So, they became inseparable and got along.

Lynn and Jessica has a lot to offer which the base game of Outlast 2 doesn’t necessarily show. It’s not completely a negative thing. It just means we can hope additional materials like other games and comics or something show that. If not, then it would seem negative. Blake cares about Lynn and Jessica and we see that they are pretty resourceful and ambitious. I like them. I do find them interesting and capable of being more than what the game did for them. I have these same feelings for Val and Marta. I think the game has the potential to show us more of these character, even Blake, and it should do so.