ellievsbear
Janaina Medeiros
oozey mess
Kiana Khansmith
we're not kids anymore.
Game of Thrones Daily
todays bird
noise dept.
Love Begins
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
★
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
#extradirty
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
NASA
will byers stan first human second
almost home
No title available
JBB: An Artblog!
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@ears-off
‘‘I want to take the ears off, but I can’t.
I hop, and when I hop, I never get off the ground.
It’s my curse,
my eternal curse!
I want to take the ears off but I can’t!
It’s my curse! It’s my fucking curse!
I want to take the ears off! Please!
Take them off! Please!”
-Sander Cohen
{Fort Frolic} ll {Master of the arts} ll {Rules}
Revisiting a certain artist...
ta daaa
Revisiting a certain artist...
Am I the only one that takes pictures of the disciples' asses when I kill them for Sander? I always think he'd appreciate that //
" The silence is defining....."
I'll leave these here...
// It's been so long....but I got access to this account again and thought I'd share some art I did thinking of my guys. I miss them sometimes...and recently binged the games with my new system. It's been 7 years since I drew them. Now I can actually draw ; //
"I want to take the ears off...but I can't!"
Fred doing Fred things
‘‘I want to take the ears off, but I can’t.
I hop, and when I hop, I never get off the ground.
It’s my curse,
my eternal curse!
I want to take the ears off but I can’t!
It’s my curse! It’s my fucking curse!
I want to take the ears off! Please!
Take them off! Please!”
-Sander Cohen
{Fort Frolic} ll {Master of the arts} ll {Rules}
Clap as the courtains open!!
The Cohens.( Agnes Cohen, Sander Cohen, and George Cohen)
send 👫 for a reunion starter .
send 👫 for a reunion starter .
The collapse of Rapture caused the artist to isolate in his sanctuary. Spending several months lurking in the shadows, listening to the endless chatter on the radio waves. Creating to his hearts content using the remains of the fallen. Fort Frolic now show casing all of his progress in a short time frame.
To cross paths with the deranged artist was rare-- unsettling and unpredictable. Certainly depending on his mood. His vision.
Rising his security shutters, only Cohen was allowed to step foot outside of Fort Frolic. Those within remained trapped against their will. He was thrilled to take control.
It was not uncommon for him to travel to his Mercury Suite from time to time. A change of scenery to inspire he artist. That was his motive.
" My oh my...."
Cohen came to a halt after closing the shutters behind him. There standing before him a rather familiar face. The artist was amused by this as well as shocked. Part of him assumed he too would've perished with most of Rapure.
" You're still alive. Signs of life around here just keep dwindling. I no longer see familiar faces anymore.
Did Ryan do away with you like everyone else? He left us all to flounder like fish out of water."
aglow-frolic:
‘Feel’. As if feelings still came that easy to her. These days, Persephone didn’t feel a thing anymore unless it was anger or disgust, anxiety before going on stage, or that weirdly manic feeling after putting another dose of EVE into her veins. Her brain didn’t even seem to comprehend the question after any feelings at all, and it showed on her face.
But she couldn’t just say that. So, mentally, she put the cart before the horse here.
“It doesn’t make me feel angry or disgusted. Or anxious.” The blue in the top corners was about the same shade of the waters around Rapture. Maybe it was that? She dumped her burnt-out cigarette in the ashtray of the table and her hand began to nervously fiddle with her cage necklace. She felt so vulnerable here.
“A bit anxious, maybe. Proud, because of the gold in the middle. Makes me feel like I’m on stage.”
Listening to the bird chirp, he was a little more satisficed with her attempting to elaborate her words. He just simply had to push her to speak. Sander was certainly spoiled and yearned for any ounce of remarks rather than the simple it’s a wonderful piece. Over the years he craved attention- the spot light. It was his high, his fix.
Those that seem to never put effort in their responses-- were so dull and he wanted nothing to do with them.
“ Hmmm...”
As he rubbed his chin he stained his skin with blue paint.
“ You are not that far off from what I am attempting to portray. Perhaps you too have the eye of an artist. Only the artists can see the deeper meaning to a piece compared to those with the untrained eye.“
cajunspoons:
Spoons was sprawled dramatically across an old chaise as she listened to yet another of Cohen’s tantrums. One of her dainty little feet was stuck up in the air, twirling odd circles while one of her arms was draped over her face. She hadn’t bothered dressing the local style today. Sanders was surely used to her eccentricities by now, as was she.
She flinched at the sound of property damage and finally lifted her arm up to peer at him with an eyebrow arched.
“So, take a break,” she suggested. “Have ya even eaten anythin’ in the past 24 hours? Y’all… Y’all still function on the 24 hour model down ‘ere, yeah?”
It was often she got to be around someone who could be as theatrical as she could. It was kind of fun being on the other side of this, except that she was so, so, so bored.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was painting her. Boring!
She swung her legs around until she was sitting almost like a normal person.
“Let’s do somethin’ fun! Reset yer battrees!”
Simmering down from his fit. Face flushed under his caked makeup face. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go through various mood swings, he often struggled to control his emotions nor did he want to. One moment he was in binding rage to the next he was calm. Many seem to ignore his outlandish behaviors.
“ A break?“
Those words escaped his painted lips as she brought up the suggestion. Taking a moment to glance at the clock resting on the wall nearby. Last he knew it was noon and now it was nearly five in the evening. Yet nothing came of the wasted time. Putting his brushes into his cups. Letting out a little huff.
When was the last time he ate...His stomach rumbled.
“ Once the artist starts working....we lose track of time. We forget to eat. The devotion to focus on the birth.“
Sander was delirious. Pacing a moment before he collected the canvas he once discarded. Propping it up back on the art easel. Wiping his hands on a spare clothe on the table nearby.
“ Perhaps that could be arranged...
Do you have any suggestions?”
