it's the colors you have.

kevin thatcher. eighteen. senior. painter. new orleans born and raised. ୦ ୦ ୦ painting is the passage from the C H A O S of the emotions to the order of the p o s s i b l e -b a l t h u s.

[kevinthatcher-blog]

holdenxwhittaker:

Holden blinked slightly, looking down at the boy in the seat. His fingertips stained blue drew Holden’s eye, and he wondered what it was that had stained his skin so deep. “Oh- Um-” Holden cleared his throat, looking down at the book in his hand and pursing his lips. “I was asking if you had any idea where the rest of this series was. The librarian said we have it but…” He shrugged, leaning against the table, quickly lifting a hand as his sunglasses tried to slip off of the top of his head.

          “—oh,” Kevin began, brows furrowing slightly in surprise as the boy suddenly standing in front of him repeated what he’d just said. Curiosity had his tired eyes glancing around the room before he offered up any more of a response, unable to help but wonder what had lead him to ask him if he knew where the books were. It wasn’t very often he found himself in the library, after all. “Oh, I don’t, actually — ‘m sorry,” he admitted with a light shake of his head, dragging a hand through his messy curls. “But I could help y’find it, if you want?”

begging for beignets | luke & kevin

[kevinthatcher-blog]

lukestew:

        Luke had been in the kitchen for the past two hours, slaving over something to make for himself. Well, his intention was to get better at making proper cassoulet au canard. It was good, he could recognize that, but it could be  better, so he ate it with a bit of a frown, stooping over the counter, trying to figure out what needed to be added in order to make it better. His mother would tell him not to be so hard on himself, and he could hear her in his mind, but he knew he didn’t do his best with it. He can always be better. He didn’t want to use substances in order to be the best. He wanted to be the best because he was the best. His little moment stuck in anger came to a hault when someone came into the kitchen. Someone he wasn’t familiar with, as in, they were not a chef. But Luke could use a break from his time of brooding, so he straights, putting the fork down and finishing his bit. He then gives a friendly smile. “Yeah sure, man, what’s up?”

          The expression on the other’s face as Kevin wandered into the kitchen was enough to make him wonder if perhaps now was not the best time to ask for favors, if the frown on his lips was indicative of anything at all. But it was quickly replaced with a smile when he realized he was no longer alone in the kitchen that put the boy more at ease, and he offered up one of his own in return, rocking back on his heels a bit sheepishly as he reached the counter. “Well... okay, so this is probably a real unconventional request, and t’be honest, I’m not real sure it’s even allowed, but what’re the odds I could come an’ commandeer a lil’ counter space and maybe a stove top for a couple a’ hours one day? I could even come in the middle a’ the night so as not to be in your way or anythin’ if I gotta,” Kevin asked, deciding to avoid beating around the bush and instead diving straight into his request. What was the worst that could happen? If the boy happened to say no, he was simply right back where he started. Maybe he could try turning to the internet to find a kitchen he could rent for a few hours? Pushing away the thought for a moment, he turned his gaze back to the brunet with a hopeful smile. “I won’t burn nothin’, I swear.

[kevinthatcher-blog]

          “—huh? No, no — ‘m awake, I swear,” Kevin insisted, pushing himself up a little further in his seat as the sound of another voice only just stopped him from dozing off. This weekend had been a rather long one for him, one he’d spent most of holed up inside his dorm; all of the families wandering the campus only served to remind him of his own, of how desperately he missed them. They could never afford a trip of that magnitude, not for all of them, and he had far too many siblings for his mother to come alone. And so, he’d stayed up late into the night in an attempt to channel all those feelings into art, or at very least, to use it as a distraction. Shades of indigo and midnight blue still stained his fingers this morning. “I’m sorry, what were you sayin’ again?”

[amystronghold]

painty paint || kevin & amy

[amystronghold]

    “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Amy said ,taking a long sip of her coffee. They served some of the best coffee on campus. It was smooth and creamy - just the perfect picture. “You are worth a million dollars Kevin,” Amy said extravagantly, extending her arms, before letting them fall into her lap. She picked up her paintbrush and tapped the end of it to her face. “I think watercolor is a little too much. They seem to be not fluid enough to have something as abstract as water color can be,” Amy turned her heads, closing one eye. “I think I’m leaning more towards oil based. Might give a classier touch to the building.” Amy knew that Bridgewood was prestigious, and she wanted to be able to put that into a painting. “They do so much remodeling, it’d be my luck if they remodel again.”

[kevinthatcher-blog]

          “Y’flatter me, cher. Mind puttin’ that in writin’ though?” Kevin chuckled as she spoke and reached for the canvas brush holder he’d tossed onto the counter as he came in, pulling a string to unravel the knot and rolling it open to reveal an arsenal of well-worn brushes, some of which he’s had in his collection for several years now. “Or, better yet, maybe jus’ come with me next time I go on a job interview, tell it to my future employers?” He nodded, thoughtful, as the girl debated various paints for her intended project, mulling over the options as he began to pull a few select brushes from the stained case. “You’re prob’ly right,” he agreed, glancing over his shoulder toward Amy once more to flash her a lopsided grin, “y’know I just love watercolors. It might be a bit of a bias. I’m thinkin’ you’re right, though, ‘bout the oil. That’ll prob’ly be your best bet, ‘specially if y’want somethin’ that’ll withstand the test a’ time.” Another laugh tumbled from his lips at her quip and he nodded, dropping his brushes into an empty mason jar and setting it up by his easel. “Y’better start on it today, then, ‘case they try to change somethin’ tomorrow. How fast can y’paint, Am?”

[kevinthatcher-blog]

kameronshoreee:

“It’s different,” Kameron refereed to the seven children. “If they’re anything like you, they must be sweet as can be. They sound like amazing kids.” As an only child, Kameron fought with his parents a lot. He was everything they weren’t. He never had anyone to look up to. Kevin wasn’t like that. His mother didn’t sound like Kam’s mother either. He suspected she was just as wise as Kevin said. Part of him wanted to ask more but he thought of boundaries. He looked up at Kevin and nodded at the painting. “Of course! Kameron moved up the bleachers to sit beside Kevin. He overlooked the painting. It was so beautiful… “Kevin…This is fantastic…”

         A slightly wistful smile tugged at Kevin’s lips as the focus of the conversation shifted to his siblings for a moment and he gave a nod, picking at the loose threads on the hem of his sleeve. “They really are,” he insisted, “some of the best.  I tell you what, it may have been crowded at times, but I miss those kids more than anythin’ in the world.” This year was the first he wouldn’t be there for any of their birthdays, and just the thought made his heart ache more than he’d like to admit. He pushed the thought from his mind, turning his attention back to Kameron and attempting to remove any real sign of melancholy from his expression as he waved for him to come take a look at the painting. Scooting over a bit to allow him room to sit, he didn’t let the sketchbook escape his grasp, but he tilted it so that the redhead might be able to better see it. Watching others look at his art was always vaguely nerve-wracking, so Kevin took a moment to gaze out at the field beyond the bleachers as he gave Kameron the chance to see it. It wasn’t until he spoke up again that the artist looked back, a faintly sheepish smile on his lips. “Y’think?” he asked, a faint lilt of curiosity to his tone. “Thanks,” he hummed, glancing back down at it as well, “I, uh’ — I’m glad y’like it. And sorry for not askin’ you or anythin’ first.”

[raesthetiic-blog]

❛ window to the soul ❜ │ kevin & rae

[kevinthatcher-blog]

raesthetiic:

       She was sitting by herself, headphones nestled nicely in her ears as she sat by the window, sketching something that flowed freely from her mind. The counselor said it might be good for her to start sketching. Embrace some of the emotions she was feeling and let it out through art rather than whatever other harmful ways she would consider (not that Rae every really considered the harmful ways the counselor was probably talking about). But there she was, making a soft face with features she spent a lot of time studying. She didn’t want to put a name to the face, that would make it too real. Rae was familiar with her lack of wanting to make things real. If it’s real, she has to deal with it. She doesn’t want to deal with a damn thing. But just as her drawing becomes a little too real, she sees another figure walk through the door. She gives him a warm smile, not yet taking her headphones out in the case that they’d mind their own business.

           Teeth sank into his lower lip as he stood back and eyed up the empty canvas propped up against his easel, trying to make a mental map of his vision for the blank surface. His hands and his shirt were already stained from the piece he’d finished earlier that day ( a larger canvas he’d taken nearly two weeks to fill with the elaborate ironwork and vibrant energy of a street corner in the French Quarter, the same that housed one of his favorite cafes ) and acrylics tinted his curls in a variety of colors. Let it never be said that he didn’t immerse himself entirely in his art. Kevin planned to prep his next canvas before leaving for the evening so it’d be dry by the morning, but several moments’ searching told him that their particular studio had run out of gesso. Opting to search one of the nearby classrooms, the artist abandoned his canvas to wander into the vacant ( or so he thought, anyway ) room in search of a primer. He paused, though, as a familiar face caught his eye from across the room; normally he would’ve let her be and focused on his own task, but he’d only just talked to the girl about art the other day and in spite of their conversation he hadn’t realized she was an artist as well. Curiosity got the better of him, and before he was able to stop himself, Kevin found himself approaching her, intrigue evident in his eyes. Noticing her headphones, he simply gave a small wave in greeting before nodding toward the sketchbook in her hands, a silent request to see what she’d been drawing.

[kevinthatcher-blog]

zaidasor:

“Uh, I mean I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” She said furrowing her brows. “You could just tell me and be on your way if you have somewhere to be.” She assured him before crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m looking for where the general area of where classes are… I suppose.”

          “Oh, it ain’t any sorta trouble t’me,” Kevin said, waving off her concern with a slight but helpful smile, “I wasn’t really wanderin’ with any sort of destination in mind anyway, I’ve got time t’show you.” Brows furrowed slightly as she explained what she was looking for and he rocked back on his heels a bit as he thought. “Well, that depends entirely on what sorta classes you’re takin’. For instance, both the Math an’ Science buildin’ and the English an’ History buildin’ are right out front a’ the Academic Center and to your right, but the Center for the Arts is all the way across campus by Dell Field.”

[dephus]

And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.

Jane Austen (via twerkingasshole)

[tyrantts]

[kevinthatcher-blog]

thomas-aaron:

“Yeah, the warning bell should ring any minute,” Aaron affirmed, checking his watch again. It’d be rude to leave in the middle of a conversation, but if Kevin kept talking, Aaron knew that he’d be late. He’d never been late before. “Mon Diue… Is that Cajun?” he asked, walking alongside the boy as they finally made their way towards class. 

          “S’pose we should get a move on then, huh? Last thing I need this mornin’ is t’be late to class,” Kevin said, hiding one last yawn behind his hand before shaking his head and starting down the hallway beside Aaron. Maybe speed-walking to the classroom would wake him up a little. “It is, yeah,” he confirmed with a thoughtful nod. “Could be straight French too, dependin’ on who’s sayin’ it an’ where they’re from. That’s one a’ those words that got taken d’rectly, but I was never a real big fan a’ semantics.” He might’ve been rambling a bit, but his thoughts had a tendency to get a little scattered when he grew tired. “But you’re right, yeah, it is. Good ear.” 

[kevinthatcher-blog]

kameronshoreee:

Kameron shook his head. “I’m very messed up. You don’t know the half of it.” If Kameron had told him everything, he would probably scare him away. So he didn’t. God’s green earth. He found the boy adorable. Kameron stopped thinking about his appearance and focused on what he was saying. “You have an accent. It’s cute. I figured you from somewhere around Louisiana. And, uhm, seven kids and the oldest? Wow. I can already tell you never caught a break. I respect that. That seems like a lot of responsibility.”

          “Well, no, ‘course I don’t,” Kevin said with a light shake of his head, “I only jus’ met you a couple a’ minutes ago. But I’m not judgin’ y’for it either way.” He scrutinized the drawing for a moment as he spoke, chewing lightly on the capped end of his pen as he tried to decide whether or not he was finished.  He could feel a faint warmth on his cheeks as Kameron complimented his accent; though it had been pointed out several times since his move, he wasn’t sure anyone had ever called it cute before. He wasn’t even sure if he’d agree with the statement, in truth. But he didn’t mention that, instead turning his attention to his other remarks. “It ain’t as bad as you’re thinkin’, I’m sure. They’re all real good kids, y’know? Some a’ my best friends, truthfully.” It was true that any breaks he caught were few and far between, but he didn’t have to know that. “Maybe it is, but I never minded it too much. Responsibility builds character. That’s what my mama always used t’ tell me anyway, and I never met a wiser woman.” He paused for a moment before capping his pen and tucking it behind one ear. “There. It’s done. Y’wanna see it still?”

[brockbarnes-blog]

“What? No one’s wanted to see you undressed before? Not in the sexual sense, but casually? Please tell me platonic naked time is a thing for other people.”

[kevinthatcher-blog]

          “No, y’know, I can’t say anyone’s ever asked me to undress with them, platonic or otherwise,” Kevin admitted after a moment, wondering if it was out of the ordinary to not have had naked encounters with other people, if not often then at all. “The closest I ever got was paintin’ a nude model, an’ even then, he was the only one of us with his clothes off. Does ‘at count for somethin’?”

[kevinthatcher-blog]

begging for beignets | luke & kevin

            It had been months since the last time the boy had been able to indulge in anything even remotely close to the kind of comfort food he’d grown used to back home, and even then, any sort of Cajun or Creole restaurants California had to offer left him with a vaguely unsettling taste in his mouth, both literally and figuratively. It just wasn’t quite right. But he’d been craving some good home cooking for quite a while, particularly after his last phone call with his mother when she’d happened to be in the middle of making jumbalaya, and having no access to a kitchen of his own left him with very few options. And so, after working up enough gumption, Kevin found himself wandering into the kitchen belonging to the school’s culinary department. It took only a few moments for him to find what he was looking for, gaze landing on someone prepping at a counter, and he walked up to him with a slightly lopsided smile. “’Scuse me, I don’t mean t’ interrupt or anythin’, but I was wonderin’ if I could ask you a quick question?”

[kevinthatcher-blog]

theo, asher

Theo — what secret he’d die for.

His mother’s. That’s the only one, but he’d die for it in a heartbeat if it meant protecting her and the rest of his family. 

Asher — the most insecure part of his body.

While he isn’t particularly insecure about it, Kevin has always been vaguely self-conscious of all the scars that litter his fingers and hands. Some are from touching too-hot pans while cooking for his siblings, but most are a result of clumsily wielding a knife in his first few weeks working at a fish market as a younger teenager. It only took a few near losses of a finger for him to learn the proper way to de-bone and fillet a fish.

[kevinthatcher-blog]

eva, gemma, delilah

Eva — something he’s embarrassed to get help for. 

Although he tries his hardest to keep up with the work, Kevin sometimes feels absolutely hopeless when it comes to math. He’s never been particularly skilled at it in the first place, but as he got into high school and spent more time working to support his family and less on his homework, he fell further and further behind. He has more time to focus on it now, but it doesn’t help when he’s already so confused. 

Gemma — stuff he’s picked up from other people. 

Calling people darlin’ is something he got from his mother, as is his love for being in the kitchen and caring for others and his ability to stretch a dollar. Drinking his coffee black was something he’d learned from his father, watching him do it at a young age and picking up the habit after he was gone. 

Delilah — crazy drunk moments he’s had.

None, actually. Kevin’s never been drunk. He’s never even had a drink.

[kevinthatcher-blog]

Luke, Asher, Aaron.

Luke — what makes his cooking so good.

He’s from Louisiana, and ain’t nothin’ like some good, ol’ fashioned Cajun cookin’.  Though he may not have had the means to make three-course meals for his siblings growing up, the boy knows his way around a spice rack.

Asher — the most insecure part of his body.

His torso. Decent a cook as he is, there were several times throughout his life where he had nothing to eat at all, especially if he wanted to make sure his siblings were fed. As a result, he’s quite thin beneath all his ratty layers, with ribs you can count and visibly defined hip bones. He’s put on a little weight and muscle since arriving at Bridgewood and picking up Cross Country, but he’s still insecure about it. 

Aaron — something that could get him in trouble. 

Aside from the secret he’s taking with him to the grave? How hard he over-works himself. He doesn’t like to sleep and therefore doesn’t get much, and most of his days are packed full of nonstop classwork and homework and extra-curriculars to keep his mind off the fact he’s not back home with his family. If he keeps up the way he has been, he’ll eventually run himself ragged.

[kevinthatcher-blog]

kameronshoreee:

“Anything. Anything you want to tell me.” Kameron was interested in Kevin. He didn’t really know what to say about himself either. “There not much to say. Er, I’m gay. Boys are my thing. Uh…I-um, I’m in love with Taco Bell. I wouldn’t say I’m a bad person but I do bad things. I’m pretty fucked up. Can’t really say anything else.”

          Anything. Well that was safe, at very least; he could control what information he chose to give, what details he would share. There was nothing that made Kevin more uncomfortable than the thought of talking about himself, but he had enough time as he listened to the other speak to try and figure out what he would offer up as well. Teeth sank lightly into his lip as he focused on detailing the nuances of the boy’s face with the pen, glancing up every so often to make sure he was drawing them correctly. He was a bit surprised by how open the redhead was with all of his answers, even going so far as to pause partway through the sketching process to look up at him. “Y’don’t sound all that messed up,” he replied, automatically censoring out the expletive as he spoke, a habit of his. “B’sides, everyone’s got somethin’ bad they’ve done, right? Ain’t a single person on God’s green earth that lived a life entirely free a’ sin.” But then his own words had him growing vaguely uncomfortable, and he quickly switched the subject. “Well... I used t’ live in Lousiana, that’s where I’m from. I, uh’ — I’m the oldest a’ seven, and... I dunno, I’m left handed, but y’probably already noticed that.”