[artstroke-blog1]

stolenotes:

❛  LUELLA — —   ❜ with a breath of exasperation the tall figure leans against her easel   ( moves to cross his arms - then grimaces & steady’s the wobbling structure. he’s not sure if he would make it back out alive were he to send her artwork spiraling downwards )   & shakes his head. ❛  they’re.. nicer when they’re drunk ? give me a chance ! what are you — — are you just gonna sit in HERE for the rest of your life ? ? you’ll drive yourself insane.   ❜ zach had no answer as to why he kept trying with her - the first time he’d invited her long, he had simply been being kind.. then perhaps after the second, or the third, he had taken it as some sort of challenge. ❛ you’d like them more if you just got to know them –  ❜

    sharp gaze watches him fumble with the easel,   biting her tongue before she snaps at him out of reflects.  “wet paint,  careful,”   she warns with a light sigh,  index finger scratching at paint that had gotten on her cheek.  “they shouldn’t have to be drunk to be nice,   zach.   --  you’re nice,   but them?    i don’t think so.”   brown waves bounce as she shakes her head,  hand dropping back down to her side.  she hates that she’s considering going,  guilt pooling in her stomach as she listens to his argument.   normally,   she would shake it off,   but that statement  ‘ give me a chance ’  was haunting.   it made her feel bad that he was trying so hard.   a defeated slump of her shoulder and a longing glance at the unfinished project she had been working before she flicks her gaze back to the athlete.  she was going to regret this  --  she knew she was,  but it didn’t stop the pursing lips before they open to speak.  “one hour.  that’s all i’m willing to give this party,  okay?   a SINGLE HOUR.   then i get to leave.   deal?”  there’s a pause before she continues.  “and i’m not going for them.   i’m going because you asked.”  

[artstroke-blog1]

[melonmum-blog]

art room aesthetic

[aestheticschaos]

The Artist aesthetic

requested by anon

[ellet0mkins]

[artstroke-blog1]

stolenotes:

❛  COME ON…  ❜  he isn’t sure how long luella has sat in there   ( a while , if the design on her canvass is anything to go by ) but the strong scent of chemicals sting at his eyes & he has to question whether or not the fumes could — — no , HAD , gone to her head. it was surely the only explanation for the nonsense she spoke !  he blinks once or twice before continuing. ❛  that’s the point ! you’ve never even been to one, right ? ? ? so how do you know you won’t like it ? !  ❜ 

   she grants him the luxury of her gaze in his direction,  a swirl of greens and blues staring at him in perfected disinterest.  her hands drops the brush in the holder of the easel,  her body twisting in his direction as her arms fold themselves across her chest.  “because i can hardly stand those people every day at school.   i don’t want to be around them if i don’t HAVE to be.”  luella has never been the most social butterfly,   preferring to hide herself away from others as much as she possibly could.  she’s heard about the parties;  cramped,  loud,  and full of the stench of beer and the desperate body language to get laid.  “why don’t you take NO for an answer?   you try every time.”

[artstroke-blog1]

artstroke:

STARTER CALL. like for a starter!

[cyphersfour]

woah, hey (x)

[shewolfwrites-deactivated201607]

The dude t-shirt.

[alteanqueen-deactivated20170129]

bold all that apply

[artstroke-blog1]

avengingson:

my muse…

likes artificial watermelon | sleeps in what they’re already wearing | eats their cereal with milk | listens to music with earbuds | hates the summer | can recite past the first four digits of pi | eats frosting out of the jar | doodles on their notebooks | can bake cookies | has a garden | has had a snowball fight | eats pancakes without syrup | prefers shorts to pants | can name more than ten superheroes | has a plan for the zombie apocalypse | uses the same password for everything | can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds | watches anime | hasn’t read harry potter | can say ‘I love you’ in more than one language | prefers mechanical pencils | thinks space is cool | takes personality tests more than once to make sure | can’t tie their shoelaces | has a purse | likes salad | likes cool colors better than warm colors | knows how to braid hair | reads biographies | can ice skate | knows their mbti | reads astrology charts | prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy | plays video games | reads the newspaper | likes chocolate ice cream better | doesn’t cuss | memorizes song lyrics | collects coupons | has a preferred order at starbucks | likes movie theater popcorn | has seen a play | listens to music with headphones | owns a hoodie | would rather own cds than online copies | has written a poem | can shuffle cards | subscribes to a magazine | double dips when eating | drinks directly out of the milk container | keeps a journal 

[bet-thinks]

“Thoughts” Medium: acrylic

[runawaysbish]

wet!zach appreciation post  ♥‿♥

[artstroke-blog1]

   sea-foam irises watch as the other rips posters from the wall,  hands curled tightly around the handle of her bag.  she was late  -  AGAIN.   but luella had learned not to let that bother her.   “in broad daylight?  you’re brave,” she remarks, dismissing the silence that ruled  ( unless the tearing of paper was present. )   she had been recruited to make the posters strung up like pretty ornaments on the walls of the school and she HATED them.  they made it look okay - like the topic wasn’t an attacker to the lives of so many people.  

    boot heels click on the linoleum as she strides over to the glittery poster that she knows for a fact she made, fingers curling under the edges and pulling aggressively on the sheet.  “it’s all pretty much bullshit,  if i’m being honest.” she wasn’t friends with him.  she hadn’t been friends with hannah baker,  either.  ( as if she had many friends to begin with. )  

@guiltlisted  bc i want u to love me ty

[artstroke-blog1]

   she’s used to being disrupted;   it’s what she expects when she uses a random classroom as her painting studio during her free periods.  ( but she couldn’t just leave and escape to her own makeshift studio.  she’s already in trouble for being late for the third time that week. )    luella had stopped fussing when people saw her art before it was finished at this point,  instead sending a turquoise glance toward the intruder before fixating her calculating gaze on the painting again.

    “what do you think?”  she asks,  tilting her head forward to motion at the canvas covered in aggressive reds and consuming blacks,  a swirl of abstract strokes to form the image of a CAR WRECK  -  a tribute to the fallen baseball star of liberty high that had died in the tragic accident.   “is it too ... dark?”  she thinks it’s perfect.  the reality isn’t sugar-coated or masked by pastel colors.   it was a death,  meant to be marked with bold colors that demanded the focus of the message of the image. 

@truthladen  // a.k.a love of my life

[artstroke-blog1]

   luella may immerse herself in her art,  but she isn’t blind.  she’s seen it in the way the other girl carried herself as if there was some HEAVY BURDEN on top of her shoulders.  she’s seen it in the far-away stare during class when she thought no one else was looking.  maybe they weren’t,  but luella was.  everything about hannah baker was bringing a weight of grief on her heart - familiar from watching her own father crumble into pieces before he swept himself away from the world.  she couldn’t help him,  but maybe she could help HER.  

   she pushed past the crowd of people,  shoving her shoulder blade against some and using her hands to block others in an effort to reach hannah baker.  ( it was a lot harder than she thought it would be.   who knew so many people could sense her urgency and blockade her from what she is meant to do? )  she feels her shoes sliding against the slick tiles as she rushes,  nearly slipping into the girl she’s been chasing since class ended five minutes ago.

  “hannah!  hi,”  she utters breathlessly,  a strained smile on her lips as she sucks in a gulp of air to calm the beating in her chest ( that’s what not exercising does to you, kiddos!  you get out of shape. )  “i’m,  uh -  luella,  if you didn’t know.”  it’s awkward only because she’s making it.  she’s not used to seeking people out,  always been the one sought. it was unusual,  but she wasn’t going to shy away from it.   “i have an art project.”  LIAR.  “and i need a model.  will you do it for me?” 

@atmonets

[artstroke-blog1]

   “i’m not going to a party,”  luella speaks with finality,  gaze focused on the canvas in front of her.   there is a mess of swirls - dark blue and black - that makes her lost,   hand hovering over the image as she contemplates just what she’s going to do.  she’s oblivious to the strong scent of the paint that coats the walls of the room - that coats her - and equally as clueless to the smears that have been wiped on her clothes.  “when have you ever known me to go to one of those?”

@stolenotes bc i love you

[artstroke-blog1]

STARTER CALL. like for a starter!