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Post by beckett on Jun 2, 2011 18:49:00 GMT -5
 now hang me up to dry,
you've wrung me out too, too too many times. [/size][/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/center] Repetitive and loud beeps blared loudly, alerting the room's occupant that it was time to get the fuck up already. On the double mattress bed in the corner of the room, a bundle of blankets groaned. Finally the blankets parted to reveal a very sleep-mussed male. Beckett's lips parted widely to allow a yawn to escape, indicating that even though he got up at the same time for over ten years, it was still hard. He yawned again and pushed himself up and out of bed. Stretching languidly, the shirtless male padded sleepily towards his small kitchenette. Easily pulling out the usual ingredients for a nutritious breakfast, Beckett got started on his meal. It didn't take long and soon he was leaning against the counter, eating his nice and hot breakfast.
Finishing his meal and washing up after himself, Beckett stretched once more before he mosied his way toward his room for some suitable clothes. Finding a simple black tank top and a pair of shorts, he returned to the living room of his apartment and glanced around. Multiple pictures in frames hung, along with a mural or two that decorated the hallway toward the bathroom. A small smile crossed his face at the sight and he grabbed a messenger bag (filled with some art supplies he always had handy) and made his way downstairs and into the little courtyard of the apartment complex he lived at.
He found a sunny spot to get cozy in and plopped himself down. Taking the in the sights, Beckett grinned to himself and then pulled out his sketch book, a canvas, and some acrylic paints. He then got to work sketching out the apartments that sat in front of him. Maybe today he'd do something different for his drawing. Some surrealism or cartooning? Whatever he decided, he was going to get it right. Hunched over his sketch book, Beckett was now pretty much deaf to the world. A F5 tornado could rip through the town and he wouldn't even notice. Unless it destroyed his subject matter.
now hang me up to dry,
i'm pearly like the white, the whites of your eyes.
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Post by gerard on Jun 3, 2011 18:03:17 GMT -5
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[/img][/center] Continuous travel, back and forth, ever since he stepped foot in the state. Off to the city? He quickly got tired of all the people loafing around (usually high-schoolers in small groups trying to be cool). The country? It was beautiful for painting, but impossible to get anything done with the sun constantly moving, and he'd end up having to make the same trip the very next day to continue; having free time was almost a curse of sorts, forcing him to find something productive to do with his time. "Impossible, just impossible," the male found himself muttering as the car door was nudged closed, sounding with a unsecured, soft click. Daniel's expression darkened slightly into one of further agitation as he wrestled to keep a myriad of art supplies from falling from the bag- wait, was it upside down? Dammit. Of course it was.
More focused on keeping the canvas free of any pavement, he rolled his eyes despite the ghost town of a parking lot and would have gladly considered throwing a few choice gestures at the accursed vehicle had his hands not been full. Instead, he decided it was too early to get worked up over such a thing, and briskly continued back toward the apartment buildings, a terse sigh leaving his lips (however Daniel know he would come back later to properly close the door.. and give the car a couple of kicks just for good measure).
Halfway to the sanctuary of his apartment, still fumbling to keep his paints from being spilled unto the walkway, the very thing he was dreading happened when a particular tube of paint decided to make a leap for freedom. Moving quickly, Daniel didn't have a chance to react before the minute container was kicked across the way.. Perfect. He rushed after it without a second thought, swearing on everything he knew to get the damned zipper of that bag fixed or else he'd just take everything in a plastic grocery bag to avoid-
People.
Well, person to be more exact. He stopped short seeing the teal medium bounce off of a canvas that clearly wasn't his, and had a moment of confusion etched on his features when he realized there was actually someone outside.. What time was it even anyway? Daniel's brows furrowed slightly; the figure looked too absorbed in what they were doing to notice. Maybe he could just take it and leave without being noticed, or leave it, or.. Urg. He couldn't just let someone else take something he had paid for and walk away like nothing. Instead he opted for the take-and-run option, hoping for a clean getaway as he knelt just enough to reach the paint. Daniel froze when he thought he saw movement from the person, but realized how ridiculous it was considering not moving wouldn't make him invisible. 'Just ask for it back already', he mentally reasoned with himself, 'It's not going to hurt to say one thing to one person today.' 
hey it’s, done (except for mah graphics~)!
cause you’re awesome, Cam, open?
they’re all, forgot to count words
i love them, template @ + stockholm syndrome
just letting you know, “ sorry it took forever- graphic trouble so I had to look up a new template @__@ Hope it's not too rambly :x”
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Post by beckett on Jun 3, 2011 23:44:00 GMT -5
now hang me up to dry,
you've wrung me out too, too too many times. [/size][/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/center] Beckett was in the zone. As he sketched, he decided that he'd try out some surrealism elements to his drawing. He liked what was coming out from his steady sketching, so he did just that. Nothing could stand in his way of getting this sketch done and possibly move on to the canvas that he wanted to use up before getting more supplies. He was so weird about his supplies. Beckett usually didn't care if he didn't finish a certain canvas up, but lately he found it bothered him a lot to leave some of his work unfinished. Oh well, looks like he was turning into a perfectionist and slightly ocd like his mum. Not that he minded, heaven forbid.
He adored his mum. She was all he got since his so-called 'father' walked out, and his grandparents disowning his mum and him. It was just the two of them and Beckett didn't mind one bit. A frown crossed his face at the thought and he scribbled in a small doodle of a family being torn apart in his little sketch. Hey, who said it had to stay in the realm of normal? He was okay with it, with the foundation of the apartments seemingly looking like tree roots trying to uproot said apartments. Maybe he'll go with a nature versus mankind kind of deal, yeah. That sounded like fun. Nodding to himself and humming in approval, Beckett paused to look up at his subject for a few minutes.
As he looked up at said apartments, a noise sounded beside him. He opted to ignore it in favor of going back to his project on his lap. He had pretty much all day to do whatever he wanted with this project, but he still wanted to see what said project would look like finished. Humming to himself, he reached to the side for his eraser, only to pick up a paint tube? Sure he had packed some paints away, but this was a whole different feeling tube, not like the ones he used. Blinking in obvious confusion, he wondered if he had accidentally picked up a different brand or not. Thoroughly out of his zone now, Beckett realized he wasn't alone now. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he was face-to-face with another male. Blinking and picking up the tube of paint, he smiled crookedly and waved it in the air. "I assume this is yours?" he asked simply.
now hang me up to dry,
i'm pearly like the white, the whites of your eyes.
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Post by gerard on Jun 4, 2011 2:22:18 GMT -5
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[/img][/center] Clearly, stealth wasn't a strength of his. Daniel blinked as the other male turned, looking from his face to the paint and trying not to seem too annoyed at the small misfortunes plaguing him that morning. With the other person's friendly demeanor, he couldn't just snatch the paint in a huff, roll his eyes, and leave. If they had been rude in any way, certainly, but that wasn't the case. "Nope. Yours?" Without a proper response time, he quickly took the tube from the other and tossed it back with his other paints. That out of the way, he focused back on the person he'd seemingly interrupted; he would have felt a little guilty had the circumstances been different, Daniel knowing what it was like to be interrupted while he was in the midst of a project. To him, it was a train wreck once he was distracted, and he'd have to wait at least an hour to be focused even if it was a simple 'What're you doing?' that made him look away.
Back to the person at hand, he was mildly relieved to find it wasn't someone he didn't get along with, though one word did come to mind. "You shouldn't be stealing other people's paints, kid," he added quietly, turning his gaze to where the paint was originally picked up, surprised to find a few scattered art supplies.
He knew of a few others who claimed to be talented with a canvas and medium, but it never made him any less curious about other people's work. To compare? Something like that, although when it came to pencil he could draw about as well as ten year old. Paints, on the other hand, were freer flowing and he could actually make something distinguishable, and they didn't make that insanely scratchy sound. Daniel leaned back into his own space and raised an eyebrow, looking back at the other male's face. "Not to be nosy.." Technically it could have been considered such, or not, depending on the other person's point of view. "But you draw?" He hoped the other got the implied point of You draw as an artist?, since anyone could pick up a pencil and piece of paper and call their scribbles a drawing nowadays- it was astonishing. He remembered the very topic and had to stop himself from sighing for the hundredth time in such a short time span.
hey it’s, done (except for mah graphics~)!
cause you’re awesome, Cam, open?
they’re all, forgot to count words
i love them, template @ + stockholm syndrome
just letting you know, “no notes this time around~”
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