ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖᵉˡˡ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ

i often wonder, 'WHAT IT TAKES' these days

[allieverknew-blog1]

i’m gonna be on later tonight !

[allieverknew-blog1]

okelencs:

almost jumping out of her skin when a voice bellowed for her to keep seated ; elena hadn’t even noticed the male had been sketching her as she sipped on her coffee .  “  uh , okay ..  “  slowly and hesitantly , her frame returned to the previous set up . talons still wrapped around her mug , each movement more calculated now that she was under a watchful eye . being under a microscope wasn’t a new feeling but having some one detail her features with a pencil ? she felt like some rich duchess in the renaissance era getting her portrait painted . who knew , maybe she’d be the next mona lisa because modesty had never been in elena’s vocabulary .

“  well don’t close it !  ”  she blurts out with a soft laugh  “  ──  i want to see it , i mean if that’s okay ?  ”  hues bright with curiosity , leaning towards the brunet .  “  i mean if you sketching me , i’m assuming your not some dark tortured soul .  ”  brushing off his apology , a bold smile tugs on her lips .  “  well , maybe the cat’s just picky with your leftovers . clearly you should cook better .  ”

ONLY THIS GIRL could present such effortless class in her movements; something so mundane like coffee would become a star of the louvre if positioned juuuust right, “it’s not really much of anything right now,” he admits, opening it up regardless because, well, what kind of artist would he be if he didn’t? fumbling hands showcase a rough outline of her shape, delicate digits, steam curling from a shape that would vaguely represent a coffee cup until he could get his hands on it later for details. swept out lashes and shapes for pupils, cascading hair. “it’s, you know, obviously not done or anything but i just wanted to capture that. but i got your pose right, right?  — see?” leans up, just to point out random things about the sketch, before he’s sitting back, a comical offense striking his features and closing the book once more with a SCOFF, “ME? cooking?” absurd. “you obviously have the wrong idea about who i am. i’m a hot pocket, chinese order-in guy. and a dark tortured soul. maybe the cat is just intrigued by my cryptic backstory.”

[barsnes-deactivated20160925]

the definition of tiny, soft and cute all together

[allieverknew-blog1]

mrleodavis:

leo was walking down the street in his boxers, body covered in henna ink with symbols around his nipples and down his abs. his hair was a mess and he could barely see with his hangover making his eyes a little blurry. he hoped nobody would be out at that particular time and if they did, wouldn’t be able to recognize him through the giant sunglasses that covered half of his face. he cursed at himself when he heard a voice talking to him to which he just squinted his eyes a little to help his ears analyze what the other was trying to say. “oh, yeah. sure, man.” he nodded, a slight movement which was currently painful. “i was hoping nobody would see me but you know what? i bet this will make a fine piece of art.” he smirked as he held his pose.

when the other was finished, he rubbed his eyes as he tried to make sense of what the other was saying once more. “sorry is that an euphemism for getting redhead pussy? i’m a little hungover and i’m sure i killed my last remaining neuron last night.”

“now that’s the spirit worth a drawing!” BLUE EYES BEAM when his spontaneous narcissism is countered with something similar; a willingness, maybe. no  —  definitely. he makes sure to capture strands of hair astray, an unruly order that could only belong to someone who was the product of a particularly abnormal night before. “ — what? no, jesus, no,” he chuckled, half amused and half confused. he decides to move swiftly along in slight bias of his own curiosity,“so..” he starts, eyes still opening and closing his book, scanning his sketch for mistakes, then his eyes flicker up to them again, “where the hell are your pants?” 

[allieverknew-blog1]

ofchrysalisms:

          when the other is humming along a word that’s far too short, he assumed the answer was no. without a second thought, he was taking another hit from the rolled leaf between his digits. however, he can hear more leaves being broken before all at once, there’s a  t h u d  beside him. he turned his head to look at the other before chuckling, using their free hand to push some of their curls out from their eyes to view the stranger. “why not is a solid answer.”, he decided with a smirk playing onto his features. then, seven is holding out the blunt in the direction of the other. “quite literally, yes.”, and it wasn’t even a lie as seven began to laugh. “share the love, they say. weed is love; i’m just trying to do the hippie thing!”, they chimed in a laugh before smiling far too wide; and yeah, they had smoked quite a lot prior to the other sitting beside them. once the blunt was taken from his fingers, seven is holding out their hand in the direction of the other. “seven! eleven isn’t related, unfortunately.”, a joke he used on far too many people to be funny anymore.

THERE’S NO CLEAR OBJECTION to him taking his place next to the other, no awkward scooting away or scoff of disgust at his natural urge to get comfortable at just about any stop he makes, and it’s a good sign. “besides possibly getting arrested for looking threatening? i’d have to agree with you there, park stoner,” he takes note of CURLS, slightly unruly. he wants to draw them, in all their curvature and glory. too soon? too soon. “weed reminds me of middle school. i mean — before i was completely home schooled.” he mentions aimlessly, a little piece of himself tossed out there and sizzling easily in the night air around them. he takes the blunt carefully, observing it and its smell before bringing it to his lips and inhaling reluctantly. the procedure in which freddy took was similar to his old inhalers, breathe in, hold, cough it out. the couch is mixed with a sheepish laugh, and a shake of his head when he’s handing the blunt right back. 

he swallows, clears his throat before responding with amusement and slight remnants of his coughing fit on his face, “seven? seriously?” he inquires, a smile creeping in. “see? why couldn’t my parents name me something cool like seven or zap. my name is for men who were practically born forty-five and watch american dad un-ironically.” he rambles, leaning his back against his side of the tree, bringing his knees up to his chest, arms resting and dangling over them comfortably. head turns to them, and a handshake ensues, “how many times have you used that line?” then his hand falls back onto his knee, turns his gaze to focus on some leaves he’s crushing under his sneaker, “it’s almost as amazingly terrible as ready freddy.”

[allieverknew-blog1]

ofchrysalisms:

( location : greystone park ) — seven’s fingers brushed over the seal of the blunt that was impeccably rolled between his fingers. it was dark, and that was the only reason he was ballsy enough to have something out in public so openly. he thought he was alone as he was sitting on the ground, leaning back against the tree; completely alone is his own solidarity. however, he soon heard twigs snapping beneath shoes which caused his eyes to flicker over to see the culprit. “you want some?”, yeah because that’s a logical hello, seven.

HIS ACTING CHOPS (nonexistent), would’ve come in handy with pretending to be caught off guard by their proposal; as if he hadn’t been STARING at them for the past five minutes, swaddled in darkness, going in and out of walking up to them and saying hello and walking past and forgetting all about it. 

he supposes he was never one for the first move into conversation anyways, “um,” freddy starts, strings it out a little on the m, contemplates. shuffling his position atop crunching leaves, “i.. shit,” a breath, “okay. why not,” he says before plopping down beside them, hand open expectantly. “is this normally the persona you use to make friends, creepy park stoner?”

[allieverknew-blog1]

HANDS WAVE a little vaguely, in a weird attempt to STOP them in what they were doing, “hold that! i mean  — like, pause right there for a sec, could you?” FREDDY has turned out to be the worst artist cliche currently on the face of the planet. like, take every liberal arts student and put them in the crowd of a bon iver concert  — it still wouldn’t measure up to the amount of pretentiousness present in the way he pulls out his, yes, on-hand pad and pencil for this MUST-SKETCH moment he happened to stumble across, in his life of fortunate and not so fortunate events. 

he doodles vaguely, brave yet light lines with strokes of his pencil, flicks of his wrist. and he’s turning the black sketchbook according to the needed angle until he’s got a rough sketch of his opposite’s position, enough for him to remember and work on at a later date, “aaaand... okay! cool. sorry ‘bout that,” the sketchbook closes with a small THUD, and he looks up then, offers them a tight smile. “thanks and sorry, inspiration is pretty much as guaranteed as the orange cat that shows up at my door every couple of weeks for my leftovers. gotta seize the moment!”

[allieverknew-blog1]

INTRO POST !! i mean everything you need to know about my boy freddy is on his ABOUT PAGE, but here’s a few things under the cut that will give u a pretty good gist. also i’m maggie, i’m 20, est (she/her or they/them i don’t mind which) and 1d TRASH

 he’s an animator/artist/cartoonist 

will be seriously offended if you don’t understand any of his spongebob references 

dirties his shoes on purpose because they “look cooler”

21, cancer, july baby, isfp, only child but always wanted siblings

pretty much ran away from his VERY coddling and obsessive parents who wanted him to themselves in fear of him being Damaged by the world 

(has all of louis’ canon tattoos besides ‘the rouge’ and has an additional tiny paint brush behind his right ear, and ‘LB’ behind his other ear)

[hedonist--poet-deactivated20240]

Turn your sadness and troubles into an art.

Hira (via hedonistpoet)

[soulmmates]

[unpains]

[louist]