So, I was messing with some special effects makeup because it was 4 am and I was bored, and I decided to make myself look like a guy, right…? Yeah. It went pretty okay, but then I took my hair down and I just…
????how did i become a really hot metalhead/pirate????
So I decided to spend some quality time with my mom, but unfortunately it involved getting my face messed with - this was the result.
Took a few different ones with different expressions…
W…What do you all think…?
*goes on vacation and comes back a man*
gg nature gg
Maybe it was because of the late night hour of 11:00 PM or maybe it was the gloom of the rainy, dark as black sky, but never the less, the streets were empty. Aside from the two or three that walked its endless walkways and the homeless bums that huddled in the alleys, the concrete prison would have been lifeless. A maze for the masses was the city I walked. Its buildings towered high above the thick and sickly fumes that made up the air I was forced to breath and though the rain that washed my world was clean, it did nothing to freshen the air. The streetlights orange glow split against the wet ground, lashing out in the water that slicked the road. In slow strides, I walked the ribbons of man-made stone with only the thought of a soul warming drink in my mind. With a quick turn around the block, my love was in sight. The dying neon sign that hung above the sidewalk, the smooth jazz that leaked out from behind its aged wooden door, the scent of alcohol and smoke mixed into one nose burning smell, it was all there before me: The Silk Maiden Bar, my end of the day prize. To me, it was that pat on the back and the voice in my ear that congratulated me on getting through the day without dying. Nonchalantly, I sauntered in, casually casting a glance around the all-too-familiar room around me. It’s dark, polished tables and red velvet chairs smile at me and the dim lights and cooling air greeted me as an old friend. As for the few people who decorated the bar, they could have cared less. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out to me, “Hey there, friend! Come on in and stay a while.” A glance to the side showed me the Bartender who beckoned me closer. Acknowledging his gesture, I took my “usual spot”, then took the dampened flat cap off my head and slipped out of my frock coat setting them on the stool beside me. With both hands on the sleek, black-top bar, he leaned forward and asked me with a smile, “So, will it be the usual?” I nodded faintly and returned his smile, “Yes, please.”
As he turned away from me, I leaned forward and propped myself on an elbow to stare down at the bar, admiring its silk shine. Eventually, I closed my eyes and smiled wide. Here, I felt home. I’m going to hate to leave it behind. The quiet clink of a dish being set gently on the bar and the gentle scent of whisky and cream tugged at my senses, like a young child would tug at their parents’ pants leg, asking them to pick him or her up. “I’m here, Look up.” It called, and with tired eyes, I did. There she was, in all her glory. Her pure white polyester dress complimented her cream color, fantastically. Carefully, I cradled her in my hands and held her close to me. I’ll never forget her. With the way her warmth always seemed to take away my stress and frustration, how could I? She really knew how to get to me. She always knew which strings to pluck to make my heart sing its sorrows of the day. I would have sat there with her forever and then some, if a quiet chuckle had not caught my attention. “There she goes again, cuddling with her Irish Cream Tea.” It said. I smirked and looked to the bartender again who simply smiled at me then continued, “So, Y’ must have had another bad day, huh? Wanna talk about it?” My smile faded as I looked down into my cup of tea and sighed, before meeting his worried, gray eyed gaze with a hesitant green eyed one. “Al, m’ man…I can’t keep do’n this. It can’t be good for me. M’ job’s not getting any better. ’M not making enough money to pay rent and ’m already two months behind. If I can’t make—No…I can’t make that. I know I can’t make that, not with how my job’s going.” Al the bartender frowned, “Well…what are y’ gonna do?” I took a good long sip of my tea then stared into my cup in silence. My heart was sinking like a wrecked ship at sea. Al was my friend, my one true friend, I couldn’t tell him I was planning to leave tomorrow. So I lied. “I…dunno.” I muttered. It was a wasted effort though, I’m an open book. I can’t keep anything from anyone. Unconvinced by my reply, Al walked out from behind the bar to sit beside me. I meekly tilted my head to the side and watched him. The broad shouldered bartender with brown hair and tanned cream skin locked eyes with me. It was hard to match his gaze. I could tell he was reading me. He was looking for the truth, and I felt open and exposed. Only when the worry faded into a dull black and white melancholy did I know he found was he was looking for. Al turned away from me and crossed his arms to lean against the bar, “So y’ really leave’n, girly?” I sighed, “Yeah…’M leave’n.” Al asked, “When…” I replied, “…’M catch’n the train t’morrow.” Again, He asked me, “What time…” I shrugged, “I’ll be leave’n my apartment at two and I’ll be on th’ train by three.” Al stayed silent for a while before replying, “I’ll come by th’ train station to see y’ off.” I watch as he laid his head down in his arms. My stomach was burning and my heart choked me. To see a strong man so low, is heart breaking and I was the one that brought him there. I bit my lip then hesitantly, took another long sip from my tea. “…At least give me that…please…” He muttered to me. I felt like crying. I could have pretended not to hear, but with how much damage I had done now, I wouldn’t even dare. Instead, I bit back what I could and said to him, “Okay, Al…Okay.” Then, with watery eyes, I threw back the rest of my tea, my Irish Cream Tea.
Just as I said I would, I left my depressing apartment at 2:00 and walked in the rain to the Train Station, getting there around 2:30. I got my ticket at 2:35 then found my way over to an empty bench. After I got comfortable, I closed my eyes to try and catch some rest. I didn’t care about the world around me, today. I was too tired to care. I didn’t get any sleep last night, because I had been thinking about yesterday when I was with Al. I hurt him, bad and he didn’t deserve that at all, especially from me. He’s too nice of a person to hurt like that. Al had many friends. Friends would come and go and it never hurt him, because he understood, but me and him? We had something special. We were great friends and though I know that he understood my reasons, I also know that it hurt. I just wanted to apologize for all the pain I was causing him. Maybe that would have dulled it a little. I’d come and see him after I got settled in, but still.
Suddenly, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. It must have been him. I opened my eyes and prepared to apologize, but the man that stood behind me was not Al. No, this man was dressed in blue and black with handcuffs at his belt and a badge pinned to his shirt pocket. I stood and faced him with wide eyes and asked, “Yes, officer?” The look on his face was of mourning. He dipped his head and lowered his gaze as he addressed me, “Yes…Do you happen to know Al Warrant Jones?” My heart immediately dropped. I nodded slowly and answered as my mellow tone cracked with a sudden panic, “Y-yes, He is my best friend…W-why? What’s wrong?” The officer looked me straight in the eyes and said the words I wish I had never heard, “I’m sorry, Miss, but…He died in a car crash on the way to this train station.” I was paralyzed as the words “He died.” echoed in my head. My friend, the man I hurt so much, is dead and I never got to apologize to him. I felt like I was going to be sick.
The officer frowned as he watched the tan color of my skin drain from my face. He placed a hand on my shoulder then pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope, offering it to me. “We found this with him, is this…your name?” Shakily, I looked down at the envelope. It was speckled lightly with blood and it seemed a little damp from the rain, but I nodded and bit back my tears once again. Taking the envelope from him, I opened the letter and I found a key with two carefully folded notes. I took the key in hand and unfolded the first note, then read:
“I know you have you’re reasons for leaving, but please stay. You can stay with me and you can work the bar with me. I love you. I always have. Not only were you there for me through my thick and thin, but I was there for you too and I loved it. You stood out from the rest. You were beautiful, not like those painted perfect barbies. From Your golden brown curly hair and your calm pale gray green eyes to your gentle tanned skin, you were naturally beautiful. You were sweet like pure cane sugar and kind. You always knew how to brighten someone’s day. You would always listen to someone’s problems and never once judge them for what their problems were. You could understand the strangest situation and almost immediately knew how to make it better. I knew the first time I saw you that you were the one. Please, dear, stay with me…
Even if you decide to go, I’ll understand. I won’t be upset too bad, but I will still love you, forever and always. I’ve included a key to the shop if you decide to stay, and if you decide to go, there’s a recipe for the Irish Cream Tea, so you can have your usual for all those bad days…”
“Oh Al….” I whispered and held the letter close to my chest. A tear slipped down my cheek as I looked up at the officer with watery eyes and whimpered, “T-thank you…F-for telling me…” The officer nodded then turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the Train Station. I stood there for a while, reading the note over and over again to myself, but before I knew it, it was 3:00 and the Train whistle blew to say it was time to go. I bit my lip and pocketed the letter and the recipe but kept the key in hand. “I’m sorry Al…I’m sorry I lied about getting on the train at three.”
So there I was, once again, walking the streets of my concrete prison. Its buildings still towering high above the thick and sickly fumes that made up the air I was forced to breath. A quick turn around the block, and I could see a familiar sight. The dying neon sign that hung above the sidewalk, the smooth jazz that still played out from behind its aged wooden door, the scent of alcohol and smoke mixed into one nose burning smell, it was all there before me, once again: The Silk Maiden Bar. Quietly, I slipped the key in and opened Silk Maiden’s door. It’s dark, polished tables and red velvet chairs welcomed me home and the dim lights and cooling air comforted me as I mourned the loss of my friend and my love. I took off my dampened flat cap and slipped out of my frock coat setting them on the bar, as I walked behind it and pulled out a white polyester cup. In a matter of minutes, the gentle scent of whisky and cream began to fill the air and I leaned against the bar, with the cup in my hand. Closing my eyes, I took sip and sighed as another tear rolled down my cheek, “My usual for all our bad days.”
This was something I wrote for a writing contest a long time ago, and never got the results back for… Heh… I guess it just wasn’t good enough, huh…?
Good job Hannah, It looks so good!
Thank you! <3
Sketch of my friend Xavier. He had a mask on. It was pretty friggin sweet. :3
Thanks for sending me your picture for practice!
I’m not entirely sure what I was going for here, but I was trying out a new style. How do I tattoo.
(Title of the file is “more than bros, homos” so I dunno what was going on the day I drew this whoops) also is it just me or does the one on the left kinda look like Dean
A sketch I did recently in my sketchbook. I’ve got this odd appreciation of back muscles.
Me and the Misses enjoying morning coffee and a book :)
Well, you enjoy the coffee, I more or less just enjoy the book. X3