HEY YOU! Artfight is already over but is bored? Want more art of your characters but have something to offer for it??? Whereas both sides gets art of their characters..?? Well, LOOK NO FURTHER! I have ART to offer and please allow me to draw your characters but for exchange of art from you!
In short, it’s called ART TRADE! :Dc Both sides gets cool and awesome art of their cool characters! Maybe it’s a surprise or maybe it’s a wip stage to be shared. Who knows?? It’s up to both parties!
Since I’m making a COOL OFFICIAL post about Art trades, I want art of my sonas! Any characters, basically surprise me of who is it gonna be. You can do the same with your characters if you want or have your chosen character ready!
What am I offering? I am offering fullbodies art with grey gridded backgrounds! I want to practice a bit more with fullbodies and its posing. If you prefer something else, like an icon or halfbody, please do let me know! :Dc
Here is the list of what I can do:
Feral creatures
Anthropomorphic/furries
Humans and Humanoids
Monsters/beast
What I CANNOT do:
Any NSFW themes
Mechs/Transformers
Here is my link to ToyHouse where all my characters are listed and can be drawn!
-All my sweet babies-
If you want me to choose who to draw.. :3c Not in any order but these four are my top four!
Shiro Grace Kokuryuu
Serenus 👀 ✨
Forrest and Blue
Brooke
With that, you can DM me here or comment here if interested! I thought to give more art this way since there is no deadline this time!
Since this is free art for both sides, I will be putting my watermark all over my work until both sides is completed to keep sides fair. Once the other side is completed, I’ll be removing my watermarks! Please be respectful when comes to DMs or commenting! I won’t be able to do ALL the trades at once since I’m only one person and I don’t know how this post will do! But let us have fun and anyone can join! :Dc Also, if I feel I cannot draw your characters/s, I will inform you and may ask to choose a different character. Otherwise, I will try my absolute best to nail your character design!
He’s engraved in stone in the National World War II Memorial in Washington, DC – back in a small alcove where very few people have seen it. For the WWII generation, this will bring back memories. For younger folks, it’s a bit of trivia that is an intrinsic part of American history and legend.
Anyone born between 1913 to about 1950, is very familiar with Kilroy. No one knew why he was so well known….but everybody seemed to get into it. It was the fad of its time!
At the National World War II Memorial in Washington, DC
So who was Kilroy?
In 1946 the American Transit Association, through its radio program, “Speak to America,” sponsored a nationwide contest to find the real Kilroy….now a larger-than-life legend of just-ended World War II….offering a prize of a real trolley car to the person who could prove himself to be the genuine article.
Almost 40 men stepped forward to make that claim, but only James Kilroy from Halifax, Massachusetts, had credible and verifiable evidence of his identity.
“Kilroy” was a 46-year old shipyard worker during World War II (1941-1945) who worked as a quality assurance checker at the Fore River Shipyard in Quincy, Massachusetts (a major shipbuilder for the United States Navy for a century until the 1980s).
His job was to go around and check on the number of rivets completed. (Rivets held ships together before the advent of modern welding techniques.) Riveters were on piece work wages….so they got paid by the rivet. He would count a block of rivets and put a check mark in semi-waxed lumber chalk (similar to crayon), so the rivets wouldn’t be counted more than once.
A warship hull with rivets
When Kilroy went off duty, the riveters would surreptitiously erase the mark. Later, an off-shift inspector would come through and count the rivets a second time, resulting in double pay for the riveters!
One day Kilroy’s boss called him into his office. The foreman was upset about unusually high wages being “earned” by riveters, and asked him to investigate. It was then he realized what had been going on.
The tight spaces he had to crawl in to check the rivets didn’t lend themselves to lugging around a paint can and brush, so Kilroy decided to stick with the waxy chalk. He continued to put his check mark on each job he inspected, but added ”KILROY WAS HERE!“ in king-sized letters next to the check….and eventually added the sketch of the guy with the long nose peering over the fence….and that became part of the Kilroy message.
Kilroy’s original shipyard inspection “trademark” during World War II
Once he did that, the riveters stopped trying to wipe away his marks.
Ordinarily the rivets and chalk marks would have been covered up with paint. With World War II on in full swing, however, ships were leaving the Quincy Yard so fast that there wasn’t time to paint them. As a result, Kilroy’s inspection "trademark” was seen by thousands of servicemen who boarded the troopships the yard produced.
His message apparently rang a bell with the servicemen, because they picked it up and spread it all over the European and the Pacific war zones.
Before war’s end, “Kilroy” had been here, there, and everywhere on the long hauls to Berlin and Tokyo.
To the troops outbound in those ships, however, he was a complete mystery; all they knew for sure was that someone named Kilroy had “been there first.” As a joke, U.S. servicemen began placing the graffiti wherever they landed, claiming it was already there when they arrived.
As World War II wore on, the legend grew. Underwater demolition teams routinely sneaked ashore on Japanese-held islands in the Pacific to map the terrain for coming invasions by U.S. troops (and thus, presumably, were the first GI’s there). On one occasion, however, they reported seeing enemy troops painting over the Kilroy logo!
Kilroy became the U.S. super-GI who had always “already been” wherever GIs went. It became a challenge to place the logo in the most unlikely places imaginable. (It is said to now be atop Mt. Everest, the Statue of Liberty, the underside of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, and even scrawled in the dust on the moon by the American astronauts who walked there between 1969 and 1972.
In 1945, as World War II was ending, an outhouse was built for the exclusive use of Allied leaders Harry Truman, Joseph Stalin, and Winston Churchill at the Potsdam Conference. It’s first occupant was Stalin, who emerged and asked his aide (in Russian), “Who is Kilroy?”
To help prove his authenticity in 1946, James Kilroy brought along officials from the shipyard and some of the riveters. He won the trolley car….which he attached to the Kilroy home and used to provide living quarters for six of the family’s nine children….thereby solving what had become an acute housing crisis for the Kilroys.
The new addition to the Kilroy family home.
* * * *
And the tradition continues into the 21st century…
In 2011 outside the now-late-Osama Bin Laden’s hideaway house in Abbottabad, Pakistan….shortly after the al-Qaida-terrorist was killed by U.S. Navy SEALs.
>>Note: The Kilroy graffiti on the southwest wall of the Bin Laden compound pictured above was real (not digitally altered with Microsoft Paint, as postulated by some). The entire compound was leveled in 2012 for redevelopment by a Pakistani company as an amusement park….and to avoid it becoming a shrine to Bin Laden’s nefarious memory.
* * * *
A personal note….
My Dad’s trademark signature on cards, letters and notes to my sisters and I for the first 50 or so years of our lives (until we lost him to cancer) was to add the image of “Kilroy" at the end. We kids never ceased to get a thrill out of this….even as we evolved into adulthood.
To this day, the “Kilroy” image brings back a vivid image of my awesome Dad into my head….and my heart!
Here is the first sample of my story "Welcome, The Oakleys"
I hope you like it, it is the closest to finished ive ever gotten this chapter and you can thank @honnydulemon if you dont like it.
And if @honnydulemon doesnt like it, it's your fault I posted it to begin with.
The backroom of the church was cramped and stagnant with hairspray, damp and too many cigarettes for a room of such dimensions let alone one lacking in ventilation as this one was.
Richard Jackson sat flush with the room's main wall, his knees drawn up, a pencil resting between his fingers. He had been staring at the same line of music for the past ten minutes for nothing.
He couldn't think with the smell of hair products in the air.
Across from him, Archie Hastings leant against a mirror plucking and patting protruding hairs back into compliance to form the smooth corners of his quiff. He had spent the past fifteen minutes brushing, spraying and jelling his hair over and over trying to get the perfect shape.
“Bee-ay-ewtifuw” Archies’ sharp accent filled the room and yet nobody paid any attention to the source.
He adjusted his collar sharply and turned on the spot with a wide grin, presenting himself for the whole room to see.
“How do I look?”
Arthur's head shot up at the question from his perch on top of a stack of chairs, he'd been waiting for this question.
“You look like someone who's just spent an hour staring at himself in a mirror”
Archie frowned at the response.
“I mean, is my hair alright?”
“It looked alright before you asked.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is if you’re not vain.”
At this response Archie's eyes immediately shot daggers across the room to the lone man standing in the dimmest part of the room silently smoking.
“Baxter.”
Baxter immediately looked up from leaning against the closed door.
“What?” he said, absentmindedly dropping ash on his suit as he spoke.
“Tell that damn twin of yours, would you?”
Baxter glanced at Arthur as one would look at the upturned corner of a carpet after you lose your footing trying to walk over it.
Baxter went to speak.
Arthur smiled.
Baxter hesitated.
Baxter's eyes couldn't rest on either one of them as they waited for him to take a side.
He was already growing fed up and as Archie opened his mouth to speak once more, he answered, though half-heartedly:
“Your hair is fine, Archie.”
Archie smiled and turning back to Arthur he went to say something, only Arthur was already walking away with his ears covered in preparation.
“God sake, Arty” Baxter grumbled before looking back down at his ash covered shoes miserably.
Throughout the whole scene Richard's eyes had followed along from behind his heavily tinted glasses undisturbed.
“Baxter the backstabber, eh?” Arthur whispered from next to his seat on the floor.
“Hes just wants it to be quiet is all”
“He seems to not be the only one who likes the quiet, ey?”
The remark on his silence almost shook him but as he went to react to the dig he found Arthur's boyish smile and evergreen eyes grinning down at him.
Richard stared through his shades.
Arthur winked and he was gone, back to his corner of the room, back to his tower of stacked seating and sitting perched on it.
With that the room returned to its previously quieter state.
At this point all four of them had been standing in the same cramped room for nearly an hour, and already they had argued about the setlist, the microphones, the lighting, the order of the songs, and whether Archie had been given the best position on stage.
Archie insisted he had not asked for the centre this time.
He had merely pointed out that the centre was “naturally the best place for a lead singer to really project his voice.”
Arthur had pointed out that Archie was not technically the lead singer.
Archie had said that was beside the point.
Richard had said nothing.
He had learned, over the years, that there were times when speaking only gave an argument more room to grow.
He watched the others through the corner of his eye.
Archie was handsome. There was no denying that. He had the kind of face that seemed to know it was being looked at. Even when he was nervous, he managed to make his nervousness look like irritation. He stood tall, shoulders back, chin lifted, as though the entire world had been assembled for his benefit.
Baxter stood beside him, almost like a shadow.
The twins looked alike enough that strangers still confused them, though Richard never had. Baxter had a sharper expression, a tension that seemed to sit beneath his skin like an elastic band ready to snap. Arthur, on the other hand, always seemed as if he had just walked into the room and discovered the best joke in the world, one only he could know.
Arthur was currently attempting to balance a coin on his nose.
“Arty,” Baxter said.
The coin fell.
“What?”
“Stop that.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re about to perform.”
Arthur picked up the coin.
“That’s exactly why I’m doing it.”
Baxter sighed.
Richard looked down at the paper in his lap.
The song was barely a song, It was more of a collection of pieces made up of a verse Arthur had written on the back of a cigarette packet, a chorus Archie had come up with whilst showering, two lines from Baxter that he had claimed were “only suggestions.” and a melody Richard had been quietly working on for the past week and was slowly starting to hate as it became an earworm of his own making.
They had been trying to write it together, that was exactly why it wasn't being written at all.
Every member of the group had a different idea of what “together” meant:
Archie believed it meant everyone contributing to his vision.
Baxter believed it meant Archie having the best ideas.
Arthur believed it meant everyone should have fun.
Richard, he believed it meant listening.
He looked at the page.
“What if the chorus starts here?” he asked.
The room went quiet.
It was not unusual for Richard to speak, it was unusual for him to speak first.
Archie turned from the mirror.
“What?”
Richard pointed to the paper.
“Here. The verse is too long. If we cut the last two lines, the chorus can come in sooner.”
Arthur sat upright.
“Sing it.”
Richard looked at him.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
Richard glanced at Archie and Archie shrugged.
“Go on then.”
Richard tapped the pencil against the page.
Then, quietly, he sang. It was not loud singing, Richard rarely sang loudly unless he needed to, instead his voice was warm and smooth, the kind that made people stop talking without realizing they had done so.
Arthur listened with a smile whilst staring at the ceiling, Baxter half listened whilst on one knee and desperately trying to spit-wash the ash off of his good suit shoes but Archie, he watched Richard carefully and took everything in.
When Richard finished, Arthur clapped a mere three times and showed no signs of emotion.
“it's good, I'll give it to ya.” Baxter said now starting on the other shoe.
“It needs something,” Archie said.
Arthur's smile faded slightly and readied himself to jump off of the chairs and start once more.
Richard stared at the paper for a minute before speaking, he hoped to stop the growing sense of dejection from showing in his voice.
"What does it need, Archie?"
Archie's thin and long hand curled around Richard's shoulder and he was forming a smile as he leant towards him.
Last year, I befriended a Catholic seminarian. We've gotten to be pretty decent friends. Seeing as he was staying in town for the summer and I wasn't, I entrusted him with caring for my plant.
He did a wonderful job, but as he was returning my plant to my custody, he explained "I watered her every other day, I gave her new dirt, moved her into the sunshine, prayed the rosary-"
"What?"
He looked at me, confused. "Isn't she a plant you pray with?"
"No," I said slowly. "She's a prayer plant. That's the... colloquial name of the plant."
Upon seeing his stricken face, I realized something went wrong. Turns out, this entire time, he's been including my plant in on his prayers and leaving her near icons.
Listen, totally cool. My plant becoming Catholic is a great deal for her not dying over the summer. But now I must navigate this interfaith household. Keep me in your thoughts.
i have an original story that i kiiiinda wanna put on ao3. like. i WANT it to be out there but also i don't want nobody to see it. i also don't want to be PERCIEVEDDDD but i also... like.
✨ don't want them to stay alone forever ✨
i want people to meet them. it would be so amazing having people who follow them!!! but like...
where do i get that 💀 HOW do i get that. tumblr??? ao3??? spamming??? probably. i don't even have the bandwitdh to tag it on ao3, let alone market it-
but then it would just sit in the void. ESPECIALLY cause it's original fiction. but like also what if people are mean to me. what if i meet some purists who think original fiction doesn't belong on ao3. i mean. it's a fandom, no??? and it's technically fanfiction, just of a painting. i saw a painting and thought 'i want that story' then i wrote that story.
blinks at the unplanned tangent
siiiiiiiigh
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