occasionally subtle
macklin celebrini has autism
sheepfilms
Product Placement
blake kathryn
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Discoholic 🪩
Jimmy Eat World
The Bowery Presents
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
ellievsbear
EXPECTATIONS
@theartofmadeline
Phantogram Three
if i look back, i am lost
Interview Vampire Daily
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untitled
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
One Nice Bug Per Day
seen from Canada
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seen from United States
seen from Vietnam
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@nothingbutholesinyou-blog
FOR SARA — SIDE B (SIDE A) Clarinet Lullaby “Wakefulness” “If I Were…” Chopin Nocturne II “Two Cliffs” Clarinet Opus 6 Outro
I transferred these through a direct line from my trusty ol’ tape recorder and didn’t bother to clean them up because that’s kind of the whole idea, right? Enjoy!
FOR SARA — SIDE A (SIDE B) Intro “Far Away” Chopin Nocturne I “Translucent” Chopin Prelude—Opus 28 “Me Frozen” “Two Shoes Blues”
I transferred these through a direct line from my trusty ol’ tape recorder and didn’t bother to clean them up because that’s kind of the whole idea, right? Enjoy!
Finn [Intro]
Upon getting into the jeep and forcing the door shut, Wirt was overcome with dread upon realizing that he trapped himself. Those windows were only glass, and wouldn’t hold up. Desperately, he maneuvered his way into the driver’s seat, turning the key that the previous owner so kindly left behind. He learned why shortly. The jeep was completely out of fuel, so much that it wouldn’t even start. Dread set in as Wirt accepted that this was the end of the line. He huddled up against the seat, trying to get as comfortable as he could be in his modern cage.
Death is beautiful.
He was trying hard to reassure himself with his thoughts.
Through the passage of time, it is the only thing that remains. Everything that has a beginning, must have an end. And I, like a flower, will wilt just as lovely as I had bloom…
He broke out of his misery and screamed when the glass shattered, trying to get as far back as possible from the rotting hands reaching for him. He wasn’t ready to die… he lied to himself. Maybe whatever was out there would spare him, just this once?
And like a call from Heaven, a voice drew away the “wanderers.” It was not one of an angel, and was more of a shout than anything with some accompanying background noise from the trees. Wirt stayed where he was, caught in a stupor of shock. The voice told him to get out and he rapidly looked around to find the source.
Seeing a boy in a tree was not what he expected, but he pointed in a direction for him to head. Was he even trustworthy in this nightmare realm? A quick glance to the shattered window told him that he didn’t have much of a choice.
Fumbling with the handle, he opened the door on his side of the jeep, tenderly stepping out. For a moment, he just had to stare at what was happening before him. This was the first good luck he had gotten of the wanderers, and it filled him with a certain sadness and dread.
Wordlessly, he glanced up at the boy, and, looking at the scene before him the entire time, followed the direction of the boy’s finger, eyes wide.
He listened to the engine try to turn over, watched the glass break, and was thankful his plan had worked. With glances in Wirt’s direction, Finn made sure he was far enough away before he stopped his ruckus. Leaves ended their descent and the forest returned to it’s winter quiet, leaving Finn with only the sounds of the walkers below who had gathered at the trunk.
For the long time he’d stared down at them from his tree branch sanctuary, he had learned two very important things; they sought something from those who were alive in a violent chase and once their soulless eyes locked onto something, the hunt had begun. With those two things in mind, he brought his sword up and away from his back, just to throw it in the eastern direction so that it landed politely in the snow not too far off. He would have lost sight of where it landed if it weren’t for the blue oval heart on it’s hilt.
After that, he climbed to a distant branch and jumped down, feet sinking into white powder. He fell to his knees but righted himself quickly with the paranoia of the dead quick on his heels. Running, fumbling over hidden obstacles, he reached his sword and drew it to point at the three.
“Last chance, yo.” If there was any humanity left in them, they needed to show it. Display fear, speak words, even show signs that they were cold or wounded. But the three seconds between them and him revealed nothing.
His blade pierced one’s abdomen, though to no avail. A stumble, but no reflection of pain or surprise. He withdrew it and the three marched closer. Backing away, he tried once more, higher, and stabbed through the chest of the already maimed enemy. Nothing.
“Oh snap.” He would have to run.
And run he did. He circled and lost them, having the advantage of speed and ability in this cold climate. But finally, breathing heavily and thinking hard, he found himself on the ground below his almost-tree house.
Wirt walked slowly, curious about the “wanderers” and the guy who saved him now that he could observe from a safe distance. The kid had a sword for whatever reason? How long has this nightmare realm been going on and how long had he been intentionally ignoring it?
Either way, he tensed up, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest in fear for his own life and of the guy who had just become the centre of the “wanderers” attention. He seemed to know what he was doing, playing into the role of a hero as he thrust his sword forward.
Wirt couldn’t handle the sound of the blade making contact with flesh, wincing as he decided that that was his cue to start walking faster. However, his legs were heavy from three days without proper food or shelter. As his adrenaline levels started to lower, his body screamed in protest with every step.
Exhaustion came over him like a wave, drowning him and his motivation. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. For all that he knew, it was just further into the wilderness, away from the “wanderers.”
A brief glance back and the boy was sprinting past him, a blur in the wintry winds. Stopping only a few paces in front of him, Wirt’s eyes lifted to a ladder, wooden planks and pieces strewn about and pieced together in what seemed to be a makeshift lookout. It was a sign of safety. A songbird flew down to land on the platform, emphasizing its symbolism as a safe haven.
Relief washed over him, and, with this sign of safety, his body gave up. The tree drifted in and out of focus, seemingly glowing in an illuminated light. It was beautiful, and with its beauty, he found himself falling to his knees.
Well, it wasn’t actually the beauty that did it. It was malnutrition and exhaustion, and it was accompanied by extreme dizziness until his eyes closed and he fell face first into a snowbank, his body forcing him to sleep as the other boy disappeared behind eyelids.
cσℓ∂ and αℓσηє, it suits you ωєℓℓ
Finn [Intro]
Denial only took Wirt so far. He had learned from that mistake, and with the world falling apart around him, he embraced the fact that it probably wouldn’t be too long before he was a victim as well. He wasn’t prepared… and he was alone. The path to his aunt’s house ended up being blocked by several of those… those… still human but not quite human things. The remnants of life clung to the air, and replaced the entire world with an atmosphere more akin to a morgue.
Keep reading
While pondering the pros and cons relating to the preservation of mankind and how this past would not wind up to be his future, he wound around to the most interesting thought of all. If things continued as they were now, in this moment, would Finn poof from existence? As he sought to find an answer for this, he failed to notice the approaching newcomer. Only realizing when his predators changed targets, he lifted his chin from his hands and watched the mad scramble Wirt made into the jeep.
Maneuvering himself, he stood up on the branch he’d perched upon and bounced a bit on it so that the leaves shook and detached, some raining down to settle onto snow feet below. “Hey! Over hereeeee!” He didn’t shout this to Wirt, but rather to the three who had turned to chase him in an attempt to grab their attention once more.
Once they wove their steady way back to him, he turned his attention to the boy in the HOTROAD. “If you can hear me, get out an’ go that way.” Releasing his hold on a nearby limb, he pointed off in the western direction. “Get up in the treehouse!” It wasn’t finished by any means, with only a platform for a floor and one wall done, but at least he would give Wirt somewhere to sit and rest for a while.
Although he didn’t know exactly what these creatures were, he was positive they were human at one point. With that in mind, he didn’t want to hurt them, though if he had to, he was prepared. But first, this new acquaintance of his needed to make his getaway.
Upon getting into the jeep and forcing the door shut, Wirt was overcome with dread upon realizing that he trapped himself. Those windows were only glass, and wouldn’t hold up. Desperately, he maneuvered his way into the driver’s seat, turning the key that the previous owner so kindly left behind. He learned why shortly. The jeep was completely out of fuel, so much that it wouldn’t even start. Dread set in as Wirt accepted that this was the end of the line. He huddled up against the seat, trying to get as comfortable as he could be in his modern cage.
Death is beautiful.
He was trying hard to reassure himself with his thoughts.
Through the passage of time, it is the only thing that remains. Everything that has a beginning, must have an end. And I, like a flower, will wilt just as lovely as I had bloom…
He broke out of his misery and screamed when the glass shattered, trying to get as far back as possible from the rotting hands reaching for him. He wasn’t ready to die… he lied to himself. Maybe whatever was out there would spare him, just this once?
And like a call from Heaven, a voice drew away the “wanderers.” It was not one of an angel, and was more of a shout than anything with some accompanying background noise from the trees. Wirt stayed where he was, caught in a stupor of shock. The voice told him to get out and he rapidly looked around to find the source.
Seeing a boy in a tree was not what he expected, but he pointed in a direction for him to head. Was he even trustworthy in this nightmare realm? A quick glance to the shattered window told him that he didn’t have much of a choice.
Fumbling with the handle, he opened the door on his side of the jeep, tenderly stepping out. For a moment, he just had to stare at what was happening before him. This was the first good luck he had gotten of the wanderers, and it filled him with a certain sadness and dread.
Wordlessly, he glanced up at the boy, and, looking at the scene before him the entire time, followed the direction of the boy’s finger, eyes wide.
And the danger was always there. But he didn't care. Or maybe he didn't know.
∂ση'т ℓεт үσυя нεαят gяσω cσℓ∂ ι ωιℓℓ sнαяε үσυя яσα∂
Dipper squinted, gripping the shovel more firmly as the sound of activity from outside of their location increased his heart rate. He wasn’t sure if staying still or leaving would be worse. It was hard to assess the situation when no one acted rationally anymore. Not being able to gauge emotion made him even more nervous, but the lack of an attack on him was a good sign. He didn’t move, but relaxed his shoulders a bit. The tension was making him cramp up anyways. Still, he found himself avoiding eye contact, if it could be called that. The guy had on shades that he only saw in the likes of comic books and the small amount of anime he had seen. He wanted to question it, but now wasn’t really the time, especially with the silence breaking outside of the apartment.
“Uh…”
Should he give him his name? Well, a first name should be fine. Besides, it was just a nickname anyways.
"D…Dipper?“
With the immediate threat dissipating, he purposefully lowered his voice, his statement coming across more as a question than an answer. He took a deep breath and released it, wanting a level head as often as the situation allowed for it.
“Now’s not really the time for small talk though, I’m sorry. I need to get out of the city. I mean…” He removed a hand from the shovel and picked a scab on his arm. “Look… I don’t really know you but…” Another deep breath. “I need to get to California somehow and I just want to make sure I’m heading in the right direction. I’ll leave you alone after that, okay?” Frankly, Dipper was worried about strangers turning on each other, and he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. If he had to drown in loneliness to stay alive, fine by him. He would be less of a target if he stayed away from others and snuck around silently when the crowds of the undead thinned. Then again, going alone was what caused everyone to be picked off and die in the movies. He always had at least one person he could for sure trust when these sorts of things happened in the past. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was at a loss.
There’s honestly a few things you want to question. First off, you’re a little curious as to why this kid’s name is Dipper. It’s not that you think it’s weird or obscure or anything like that, but mainly because it was not what you were expecting at all. When he came in, you figured him to be someone like a Lucas or maybe a Brad, but Dipper? That was no where near what you might have thought. Second, of all places in the world why California? The beaches there were great and the people even better apparently, but this wasn’t time for fun anymore. Actually, now that you processed the thought you realized he probably wasn’t looking for amusement or entertainment. If anything, he was more or less likely looking for family or someone he knew. That was an aspect you could relate with.
However, as he spoke you leaned your head slightly to the side, absorbing it. The master of control it wasn’t all that hard for you to read people or see through them, but this one? You weren’t sure what he was asking. On one side it seemed like he just wanted directions or as if he thought maybe, just maybe, you knew the exact route to where he was headed. On the other side, it seemed as if he was asking in a subtle way for you to help bring him there. Whatever he was asking though, there was just one problem. Two actually.
You didn’t know how to get from point A to point B without a map and the choice of joining someone else wasn’t entirely yours.
So, you give a little shift to your posture and right yourself until your back is completely and entirely straight. ” I don’t know how to get to California so I can’t tell you if you’re going the right way. “ Being truthful would be the better choice here, so you follow on that line of thought to better the situation. ” My auto-resp..-“ He wouldn’t know what that is. ” My friend has a map though but he can’t go with you on his own. And uh. “ You turn your head towards where Butch had run off before looking back at him. ” My boyfriend sort of went somewhere, I don’t really know what he’s doing right now so if you want to sit tight for a minute, I’m cool with it. There’s food in there- “ You give a notion towards the inside of your apartment with your head. ” Just watch out for the robots. They’re unsettled by the shit of a plot going on right now. “
Dipper wasn't getting his hopes up with this stranger. Honestly, if he followed where the sun was in the sky, he could at least track his direction to vaguely west. However, information was key to survival, and if he didn't want to blindly walk all the way to California through the Rocky Mountains (and die), then he needed some method of travel. He was hoping that there might be some exodus out West that everyone was taking... a secret route that the media never covered. Wishful thinking, he knew. And the little glimmer of hope stayed in about the same place. When the guy before him spoke, he implied that he knew even less than him about where to go. Dipper couldn't help but sigh a bit. The world wasn't going to make this easy on him. The idea of a map caused more curiosity than relief, since Dipper had packed one. Still, his was a map of the major highways in the entirety of the US, and thus, if they possessed a local map, he'd have an easier time choosing routes and destinations... specifically places that would be habitable for evenings. He couldn't wear himself down or he'd be gone for sure.
"What kind of map, may I ask?" He didn't move, raising an eyebrow, but exhaustion made him hope for the best with this situation either way. Still, with the offer of food, he was starting to grow more comfortable, but still... "But, I have my own food and stuff. I'm fine." He lowered the shovel, digging the tip into the floor and balancing his weight on the handle. There were at least three then. They still had the chance to ambush him. Maybe telling them that he had food was a bad idea. If only he could take that back. But, what was done was done. With the damage done and the robot comment, Dipper actually chuckled a little.
"This... wouldn't really make a good blockbuster, would it?" It was an awkward ice breaker considering the environment, but helped to ease his tension a bit.
"How many people... and... robots, I guess? Are staying here exactly?"
Finn [Intro]
Without television, news tended to travel slowly. Without contacts always kept in touch with, word often didn’t come at all. And in the wilderness surrounding Denver, no broadcast set Finn on high alert. It took days for him to discover what the world had become.
Keep reading
Denial only took Wirt so far. He had learned from that mistake, and with the world falling apart around him, he embraced the fact that it probably wouldn't be too long before he was a victim as well. He wasn't prepared... and he was alone. The path to his aunt's house ended up being blocked by several of those... those... still human but not quite human things. The remnants of life clung to the air, and replaced the entire world with an atmosphere more akin to a morgue.
Maybe this was it? A representation of Hell akin to Paradise Lost. Several English lectures and personal study sessions echoed in his head. No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes at all; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed. He panicked at the thought of possibly being dead, trying to draw what he could from the visions he had had when he went over that wall and woke up in a hospital bed. But then, he remembered his auntie was still there, the atmosphere was the same. The disease was what changed. Nonetheless, the cold nipped at his fingers; the pain of such driving him anywhere for warmth.
He was starving after eating only whatever he could find for three days straight. Not wanting to deal with the human but not humans, he never actually obtained anything from the grocer's. He barely had anything besides the jacket on his back and a pair of secondhand, leather gloves that he got more for the cool value over providing any actual warmth. The amount of humans but not humans (he needed to come up with a shorter name for them, maybe wanderers?), that he dealt with were in small numbers, and he avoided them by quietly sneaking around and running away. It was cowardly, but he also didn't know how to deal with the threat... or what the threat even was. As he trudged on in the snow, almost positive that the cold was going to kill him, he checked his phone one last time and tried desperately to call his aunt, call home... anything. He got the answering machine every time, making him leave more and more frantic voice mails that eventually tapered off to quiet pleas and whispers. He was so out of the way. He had run away from the threats each time, and was now hopelessly lost in the wilderness outside of the suburbs where he was staying. He couldn't give up though. Not this time. Giving up meant accepting death, and, while curling up and taking whatever hit him sounded better than forcing his body through the trees and paths, he knew he couldn't just... throw in the towel. He was so tired though, and seeing a jeep provided him with a comfort; a little glimmer of hope in hopelessness. He almost tripped making his way over to it, too exhausted to do any sort of safety check. However, just as he reached the door, he heard a noise from behind and spun around to see that he had drawn the attention of three of those... "wanderers." He, completely unarmed, desperately tried to get into the jeep and pray that luck was on his side and there was gas and a key in the vehicle.
His panic meant that he didn't notice that he had fellow, human company.
o n e by o n e i d r o w n e d all the people i’d been
Intro- Wirt
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." - Robert Frost A boy in his late teens had arrived in Denver by train from the equally frigid world of New England. It was just recovering from the snow storms that covered the land in a clean, fresh blanket that concealed the remains of autumn's death. He was visiting an aunt for his strangely early spring break. It was still February, and he lamented over the unfortunate timing of his mid-term recess by writing his thoughts down in a journal on the long trip to the center of the country. Thinking a bit and tapping the pen to his chin, he crossed out "center" and wrote "centre" instead. That sounded more eloquent, right? Honestly, the time he got to himself was just what he needed. Drowning in his own thoughts was where his best inspiration came from, even if he tried to avoid it because it made him depressed and weird. Still, with the city in view, his spirits lifted ever so slightly. He looked forward to the new atmosphere.
Four days into his stay with his aunt (who admittedly was less weird than she acted at family gatherings) and he had to start preparing for his classes again. He huffed, remembering that he promised himself and his mother that he'd get his work done early. He didn't feel like it, and decided to multitask. Sitting on the rug in the living room, Wirt spread out his math books, remembering just how much he disliked the subject. He already covered everything else though, and decided to wallow in self pity with muttered, self indulgent poetry when an emergency news broadcast drew his attention away. Disease? Under control? He decided to blow it off for a bit, ignoring the "off" portions of details that the broadcast refused to announce. In the end, he never actually finished his trig assignment.
That was a week ago though. Now, he was three days overdue to go home, but all transportation in and out of the city had stopped completely. The news broadcasters stated that things were under control all the way up until the TV went blank, static replacing obnoxious commercials. His aunt had pushed him out the door that day, explaining to him that he needed to get to a grocery store and take what he could before the crowds of frenzied people got to them. Wirt, still in denial, rose an eyebrow to that and told her that stealing was wrong. She just handed him a cell phone in response and told him to avoid crowds, people, back alleys, and.... just about everything. It made him question why she was sending him off alone, but she insisted that she had heirlooms to gather and didn't want looters to get to them. He had shrugged it off, trying his best to ignore the feeling of dread sinking into his chest. He kept "head into the near market" on his mind, using that as his focus so he didn't panic, but found the world surrounding him generally dark and bleak, like he entered some other version of the outside world. Out of habit, he still grabbed a cart at the market, glancing nervously around at the abandoned cars in the lot and the shattered windows in the building itself. This was what the "disease" brought the world down to? Wirt wasn't sure what to think, his mind strangely calm about the whole matter at this point. It hadn't sunk in yet... and his blatant shutting out of the news didn't help things. Rolling the cart forward, he found the doors stuck and boxes stacked up against them, as if trying to keep something out.... or in... Unsettled, he peered in through a neighboring window to see if there was any immediate sign of danger. What he saw instead, was what looked like a human, but wasn't quite human. The room was rife with the stench of decay, and Wirt silently spun around and pressed his back to the wall when the human but not quite human changed direction. The sweat collected on his forehead as he stayed absolutely still. He whispered to himself in his head... almost as a reassurance, but more as a statement of helplessness, "I've sunk into the never-ending abyss."
just wirt things #64
the tremendous and growing fear that everything that you’re working for is for nothing
“Greg…It’s my fault that we ended up here. Everything’s been my fault. I should’ve been-”
Apologies for the repost. I needed to edit some things. Redraw of old fanart
just wirt things #74
all of your friends being ghosts in purgatory
just wirt things #49
being in purgatory
I almost forgot about it!!!
This is my last piece for the OTGW booklet me and smieska did!:)
whatever doesn’t kill me …
BETTER START RUNNING.
