I just want everyone to take a moment and imagine Millard Nullings wearing crazy socks. He has a love for all the patterns and makes SURE they are never matching. It’s his favorite thing to wear when someone forces him to put something on.
Have you ever met anyone else who does Aura portraits like you? Would it bother you if you saw other people doing the same thing? Your work is so fascinating I am just curious.
Hi there! Actually, there are plenty of aura artists who have been at this way longer than I have. The first I always think of owns “Intuitive Portraits”– her name is Michelle, and I last ran into her in Kansas City several years ago. She does a beautiful colored pencil image of your face in the 2-3 main colors she sees around you, and then she draws animal and archetypal guides, spirit guides/guardians, and symbols all around your face in those same colors while delivering a live reading about the past lives she sees in you, any major deities or archetypes that resonate, etc. I had mine done in 2009 or 2010, and it was phenomenal. As a staunch skeptic, she was one of the first people to really knock my socks off.
My current style came around spontaneously, and it’s been really rapidly evolving since 2013. I aim to hit on major things I find useful, and I interpret everything in a way that is shaped by my spiritual worldview.
Because my particular style and methodology is so individual, I’d encourage anybody looking to do aura art to look outside the mold (whether the mold is my work or someone else’s). Think about what resonates with you, how you interpret the world around you, how different colors and symbols make you feel, how your belief system has evolved over time and what’s shaped it, etc. It doesn’t bother me when others do aura art, but my heart does ache at the idea of someone restricting themselves to my (or any) method. As an artist, I know what it is to feel like there’s one epitome of good art that I’ll never measure up to, and I don’t want anybody to go in feeling like that. We all see and interpret uniquely, so I’d hate for someone to box themselves in out of fear of getting it wrong. I see souls like figures and light and sensations, so I paint and interpret them that way. You may see souls like trees, or you may see landscapes and shapes, or you may see a face or a hand or a crystal or something when you look at somebody, and that’s okay! Aura art, particularly for clients, is all about offering your unique vision and understanding. So there’s no right and perfect way to do it– it’s as diverse and subjective as the rest of the globe.
Heck, a friend of mine has even started doing what he’s been calling “Intuitive Watercolors,” basically readings revolving around whatever he feels to paint. He does open Facebook Live sessions once every week or so with these– check out Mitchell Tillges! His fan page (which links to all his services) is here.
And going beyond that– I’ve always thought it would be so cool to go even further. I mean, imagine aura calligraphy… someone making art out of the 2-4 strongest words that come to them for you. Or aura sounds (this could be particularly powerful for visually impaired clientele)… like, you meditate over someone and then go orchestrate a 2-3 minute meditation track based on what you feel from them. Soul-inspired poetry. The possibilities are endless. I really encourage anybody considering aura art to look to your unique interests and strengths and curiosities. There’s so much ground we have yet to cover in the pursuit of offering perspective to each other, and I think folks inspired by my work probably have a multitude of talents I don’t have to bring some of these to life.
Do you remember the first time i said “ I like you”? It was also the first time i kissed you on your cheek… Do you remember the first time i said “ i like -like you”? It was the time you spelt my name with shells at the beach…
Do you remember all these cute little random things you do for me? Like sending me a bunch of flowers, with cute little notes… just because… Taking me to a library..while you watch me read… Or the Cat Cafe… when the words slipped through my mouth… And i said “ I love you”…….It was the first time i said it to you….i said it out loud I swear i tried not to give in.. i swear it wasn’t suppose to be near a cat’s litter box and strangers all around..but how was i supposed to stop myself from not letting you know how i feel…how you made me feel…while you tried to be a part of me…
Do you remember that time, when you caught a flight and stood below my workplace with flowers in your hand and your backpack on your shoulders, and these notes on a blank paper you kept flipping that said you’re sorry..there was music playing in the background… I was standing dumbstruck, not believing my eyes… Tell me how is a girl to not forgive you, when you try and enact an entire scene from a song video by her favourite singer…How?
Do you remember the time we were arguing, and you said my hair smelt great.. Interrupting my train of thoughts… or the time you were helping me to put on my socks, or came running to me, every time i freaked out about a leech on my feet Do you remember dancing for me? or the way you constantly keep checking for your wallet, passport and me…like as if , you’re worried you’d lose me …
There are so many of these little moments… that make me fall for you..all over again..So many of these moments that keep popping in my head….. And even though we are miles apart right now… you are always on my mind… This is me hoping and rooting for our “ All in good time”…….
And you have my word.. you have my heart… Baby, I am in love with you… there…i said it……. it’s about time you know…
You have witnessed this ruin and picked up every broken piece and build it up again into something so magnificent..You have healed my wrecked heart, and put it out of it’s misery…You know the parts of me, that refuse to see the light of the day, and you stayed… You stayed and filled up all these empty spaces and cracks and wrapped it up with your words of love… You traced your fingers through parts of me and noticed every wound, every scar, you planted a garden and made me a home… So there.. I am in love with you…and your soul.. …i said it.. because you need to know…. And I know you are not dying to hear those words… For I know better… you my love..are afraid of forever…
It’s obvious we are on different pages….And you are nowhere close to me… So i wait here..hoping for you to catch up…But my dear, if you’re going to stop reading..and shut this book…I beg you… do it NOW…
It’s obvious we are in different places.. hell even geographically speaking… we are in different time zones, and even so you are still a hour and a half behind me.
So I’m afraid…someday you will leave… just like everyone i have ever loved… I am afraid to be that house falling into gentle ruin, i am afraid my walls will crumble and this beautiful garden will start to grow into an unwelcoming forest again.
So if you are going to break my heart… do it NOW Because i am in love with you…And anytime after this, you’d be taking away my soul and I’d be trapped in this misery…..forever… So if you are going to break my heart.. do it NOW.. Because if i stay now… I’ll stay forever… And if i don’t leave now.. I’m afraid i’ll never make it out… Because.. I am in love with you….. And If i stay now.. I’ll Stay forever.. .and guess what.. forever scares me too…. Yours, Nica…
I had this written for weeks, but i thought it was horrible so i didn’t post. But it’s actually not, so I apologize so the ridiculous delay. Hope the requester(thatstotallyaword) will still see this!
“Hiya! Could you possible do an imagine for a girl named Emma with blonde hair and green eyes who’s Steve’s sister and Soda and her don’t get along then something happens that makes Soda look at her differently and fall for her? Sorry that’s a lot of information”
– warnings: little swearing? kind of stupid idk. I suck at soda writing.
My older brother has a strange obsession with cars and controlling his sister’s life.
By sister, I mean me, obviously.
It’s kind of annoying.
“It’s so hot,” I whined. Mainly to aggravate him, but also just to whine. It’s stress-relieving. Doctors recommend venting, I swear on it. It’s therapeutic. “Didn’t you think to bring along a drink?”
“No, Queen Y/N, I didn’t.” He barked, pulling out a comb and running it through his dark hair. He’s more of a girl than me. That says something, too. “Do you think you could complain some more?”
I’m by far the cutest Randle.
Steve has this thick, thick greasy dark hair.
I know I have a different mother and that probably means I was blessed with a prettier one, but damn, my blonde hair makes his dark slime glimmer with plain ugliness.
And I have these piercing green eyes. I don’t like them much, but guys say they’re real cute a lot.
I kicked a rock on the ground. The sun was pouring down like hot tea. That’s a cute comparison, huh? I think so, anyway. I bet you my English teacher would like that one…
“Glory, Steve, how’re you gonna work in this all day? It’s ninety degrees at the least!”
The temperature was just insane today. It was surely the hottest day of the summer.
I carefully checked my shoes for scuffs since I kicked that little stone once or twice. “Thank the Lord I hydrated some earlier.”
He rolled his eyes and shoved me. I started up with a whole string of complaints and had to jog to catch up to him as we neared the DX.
He works there a ton ‘cause he likes cars and hates our dad. Me, I had a million places I’d rather be.
“Steve-y,” Sodapop greeted with a smile. What, were they together or something? Pet names? Glory.
I did not like Soda one bit. I didn’t hate him — not as much as he appeared to hate me, anyway.
It’s just so annoying to always hear your girlfriends in your ear yapping about your brother’s best friend and oh-have-you-talked-to-him? and he’s-such-a-doll!
I navigated my way to the gas station, leaving my brother to do whatever it is he does with Sodapop in the garage. The DX consists of a garage, a little convenience store, and the gas pumps in front. Sounds big but it ain’t.
Positioning myself behind the counter, I crossed my legs and carefully observed my manicure.
“What’s her deal?” I heard Soda ask Steve as they walked in a few seconds after I sat down.
It was real similar to any other convenience store. Little more limited. They had necessities, but didn’t have much else. The DX made its money of small car repairs and gas.
Obviously, they were aware I was right there. But it never stopped them before, did it? "Oh, is the brat bitchier on this fine day? Couldn’t tell.“
“Well, I don’t think I oughta answer that.” Funny how you stop yourself now, Sodapop. I couldn’t figure out what the girls liked about him.
His big soft eyes met mine and I rolled mine to break the awkward tension. Okay, he wasn’t that bad, I guess.
“She’s angry ‘cause I said she can’t go to her friend’s house,” Steve spat. “I caught her with a Soc the other day!”
“No,” Soda looked from me to Steve then back to me. God forbid I associate myself with Socs! “She didn’t —”
“Oh, yeah! I ain’t gonna go into details, man, but it was pretty horrifying.”
I narrowed my eyes and flipped my hair. I was so ready to fight with him. “That’s not true Steve Randle, and you know it!”
“Oh, it isn’t?”
“Oh, it isn’t? No, no it ain’t! I’m not as loose as you make me out to be, you know. Joey and I barely hit second bas—”
“Shut your trap,” I hollered with perfect eyebrows tight in anger.
Steve got a drink for Soda but got nothing for himself. He leaned against the thin shelf holding small bags of chips.
He shook his head slowly. “You know that kid Pete wanted to go with her? Comes 'round five every Sunday for a tank full? Good kid. He’s one good kid…”
Peter doesn’t even speak! I’m positive something’s wrong with the kid.
“Well, what’d you say?” Soda asks softly. He ran a hand through his blonde-ish hair. It’s not as blonde as mine.
I was repulsed. “I said no, of course! He’s kind of a loser — thought that was known around God’s green Earth.”
Sodapop took a sip of his drink as Steve got all bent out of shape. “He might be a little different but 'least he don’t ride around in a Mustang!”
“Steve!” I snapped. “I am not attracted to him. He’s not even popular, which just adds to the growing list of reasons why it’d never work. And you would ride around in a Mustang if you could!”
“Yeah,” he said icily. “Whatever.”
Sodapop looked over his shoulder at the gas pumps. “There’s people waiting. Steve, we oughta get out there. And with the repairs on Lindner’s car…”
Well, soon enough, I was positioned on a stool in the garage. This was an hour or so after I finished pouting in the empty store. Steve and Sodapop were working on a car that needed tons of tiny fixes.
Steve was pumping all the gas, though. It was so damn hot outside and I nearly felt bad. The girls — even his guy friends — would chat him up for the longest amounts of time, too.
“My hair isn’t bouncy anymore,” I frowned trying to sort of spring it. My attempts failed, naturally. I needed to borrow money to get my hair done up. The heat acted as iron weights.
Then, David came around at about two in the afternoon. He was a Soc who just never got the hint. Football team quarterback with an excessive amount of cologne always trailing behind him. But he was fun at parties, I guess.
“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to you out here?” He asks real polite, careful not to invade the garage workspace. He knew my brother hated Socs. David fit just right under that category.
I mumbled an uninterested, “I suppose.”
David ordered me to go out with him and I declined for the third time.
It ended with him being smacked on his cheek.
“She’s sorta a bitch, huh?” Soda asked Steve as they covered themselves in oil. Gross. I could hear them as I watched David speed off in anger.
“She's sweet to her friends, but no one else.” Steve shrugged. “Doesn’t even like to go steady, really. Rejects everyone or’s easy for a night.”
I gaped, stomping into the garage. “Take that back!”
I pouted some more. The day seemed to be stuck in pause. Steve would work late, too. I was stuck there for a whole while longer. He was literally, like, babysitting me!
I hated Sodapop staring at me. I’m Y/N Randle, for Christ’s sake! I was one of the most popular girls in school. Why did he think he could judge me?
I didn’t need to take that! Who was he to judge me? He was beneath me in all meanings of the phrase!
He’d give me these little half smiles. The fake kind, I’m sure.
And he’d either stare at me or pay no attention to me. That happened a lot.
I wasn’t attracted to him, but I mean, he’s hot! Naturally I’d want to catch him staring at me. But when he did, it was a pity stare. Like he felt bad for me or something.
“It is so hot,” I sang in frustration.
Standing up for the first time in probably an hour, I stretched up for the ceiling and I didn’t reach it.
I’ve always been medium to short in height. I was about 5'5 at the time, and skinny.
My skirt was light pink. It reached the middle of my thighs, I think. It was short but it was cute with my long white socks that came almost to my knee.
“Glory, Y/N. Think the skirt could get any smaller?”
“Shut your mouth, Steve.”
“Buddy, pass me that rag?” Sodapop pointed to a ripped red paisley cloth on a work bench.
“Here,” I said coyly as I gave it to him. We locked eyes for a few seconds and I looked away. Quickly, I groaned. “I hate it here, Steve! It’s so hot!”
He shrugged. “You never should of fooled around with some random Soc when you told me you were at Veeta’s house.”
“I was at her house! We went out together and I ran into Joey — who, for the record, is not a random rich boy!”
“If he’s so into you then why hasn’t he asked to take you out, then? Huh?”
“Because I said no! Are you happy?”
I rolled my eyes and stormed off back into the store room. I had fought with Steve a countless number of times that day.
“I’m sorry! Does that make you feel any better, Soc Queen?” He was yelling from the garage.
“Drop dead!” I hollered.
Twenty minutes later I was bored trying to curl my hair again with a pencil.
I was sticking to my clothes with sweat, it was so hot. Soda was wiping his forehead off a ton earlier that day, too.
Suddenly — as I’m about to drown in my own pool of sweat — Soda’s inside the shop, breathing hard.
“You oughta call someone,” his chest kept rising as he caught his breath. His soft eyes were wide with concern and alarm. “Something’s wrong with Steve.”
My eyes nearly fell out of my head. “What do you mean? Are you stupid! Why didn’t you call anyone already, you idiot! Jesus Christ, what did you do — just leave him? What’s wrong with him? Is he alive? What the hell happened? Sodapop? Curtis! Are you okay? Speak English? Ugh, nevermind! Don’t you have a brain?!”
He was too busy blinking and when he was finished I was already at Steve’s side in the garage.
He was laying on the ground with his eyes shut. His skin glimmered with perspiration and he looked less hostile with those sharp eyes of his closed.
I wasted no time in propping his head up on my lap. “Stevie, I thought you were smart, huh?”
Blindly, I reached around for any kind of drink. What I grabbed was Sodapop’s from the early afternoon. Steve was semi-awake, but just barely.
“Come on,” I tapped his cheeks. My eyes wouldn’t leave him. “Get up, Steve. C'mon, you’re a Randle!Wake up, Steve. C'mon, you got it. I’ll buy a root beer float, you love those. Come on, now.”
Soda was watching me, intrigued. It was weird 'cause he seemed to be watching me and not his best friend. "What’s wrong with him, do you know?“
"He’s breathing,” I said. “Already checked his pulse. He tends to faints every summer. Doesn’t ever drink enough. I try to tell him to, but he doesn’t listen very well. If he doesn’t get up within the next few minutes, getting him checked out wouldn’t do any harm. He’s okay, though.”
Sure enough, Steve opened his eyes up and blinked and let out an obnoxious groan.
He was already trying to lean himself up on his elbows when I stopped him, holding onto him.
“Steve, slow down,” I warned. “Are you alright?”
I helped him stand slowly. “I’m good,” he muttered. “I passed out, huh? Shit, my head hurts… You got an aspirin?”
As I rolled my eyes, he turned to grin at me.
“Every time you do that I have a mini heart-attack,” I told him sarcastically. I tried faking annoyed, I tried ignoring my heart that was still racing in fear. I pushed Soda’s drink at him so he could try to drink up.
I’m always having to remind him to hydrate during the summer. He’s like a little kid, I swear. “Drink it, Steve. Get through that entire thing, okay?”
Steve managed a genuine smile. He had a hand pressed to his head. He was pretty red, even through his tan. “But you’re always there, aren’t you?”
I shrugged, “Can’t convince myself to let go.”
We hugged each other at the same time right then and there in front of Sodapop. He didn’t need to stick his arms out and neither did I. We just knew. It’s hard to describe.
“You had my back, huh? I guess you can go out if you want.” He rubbed his eyes. “Meet me back here before nine or else you won’t be able to handle the Randle. ”
I nodded, but was just going to walk to Darlene’s, probably. Her house was always cold. I said bye and all that, reminding Steve to drink up. “Ew, Steven. Hey, Sodapop, make sure he goes through three more drinks at the least!”
I stopped walking shortly after that when I heard footsteps behind me.
When I turned, I saw Sodapop. I automatically assumed it was Steve because I was only a few yards from the DX.
Soda frowned. No, it was a thoughtful look. “Hey, Y/N, where’re you heading to?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I was thinking Darlene’s since she came in earlier. Maybe a drive-in. I got some money on me. Why?”
“Do you think I could come with?”
What the hell? “You want to come? I mean, yes, you can, but…”
He glanced back at the DX. “I asked Steve and he said it was swell. And you don’t got to blow any money on me. Actually I have enough to pay for you, too.”
“You don’t got to pay for me,” I said. “Don’t you think you oughta stay with Steve, though? So he don’t faint again or nothing?”
“He’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I reckon he’s part of it.”
“Well, who or what’s the other part?”
Soda bit his lip for a long time and I forced myself to look at the ground so I wouldn’t stare. “You are,” he said.
“Me? Why —”
“Look,” he said slowly, “I know we don’t get along real well —”
I scoffed, “because you hate me.”
He opened his mouth to object but I gave him a look and he stopped. He knew I was right. “Have you ever looked at somebody, and suddenly had feelings for them, almost?”
Darlene, of course he liked her. “You can come if you want. To Darlene’s.”
He was confused. “Not Darlene. You. I’m talking about you.”
“You don’t like me, Soda.”
“I didn’t think I did,” he said looking down at his hands. “I thought you were a real bitch to Steve and everyone else. But I know better, now.”
I laughed dryly, “No, no you don’t. I am a bitch. Always have been, always will be.”
“I didn’t see it at first,” he said slowly. He always speaks so slow! “But I do now. You know I ain’t that smart. But I got you figured out, now. The second you saw Steve hurt you were at his side. And you act like you hate everyone, but it’s because you don’t wanna get hurt, isn’t it? Some kind of defense thing. Like Dallas, like how he acts like nothing can touch him…”
I swallowed. “What’re you trying to get to here?”
He bit his lip again. “You’re just different than I thought and it’s interesting, I guess. Like a shell. I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I studied my shoes.
“Well, I’ve fell for you,” his eyes sparkled. “Sure, I thought you were pretty. Everyone thinks you’re pretty — you’re Y/N Randle. Also thought you were mean, but, in reality you’re just tryin’ to look out for yourself because no one else does… Besides, you know, Steve.”
I grinned. I had no idea what I was doing or anything, really. I didn’t like being deciphered like that but I couldn’t find it within myself to be angered. I think I already liked him. Alright, I did. Happy?
“I just wanna figure you out some more,” he told me. “So, I was wondering if you’d let me buy you a Coke.”
“Like a date?”
His hand linked with mine. “Yeah, like a date.”
“Well, I won’t object.”
“Being mine is also included in the package, doll. Just thought I’d let you know.”
“But Jonathan, I should know! I’m your only friend, plus I’ll find out anyway!”
So inkie-heart and I did an art trade and she asked for a ‘flustered Jonathan’!… I was excited and went kinda overboard. I’m not sure if this is okay though, so if ever, I can do it again. :0
I don’t know how to background and that’s probably the most you’d get out of me, ahah. [Jon’s supposed to be in front of his house, but you can’t really tell since the background’s very bright and mushy.]