Drama about... Paint.

[eggshellblue]

Oh dear god. Please, just kill me now

No wait. Not yet, because I've still got to finish my fucking portfolio!

Have I ever mentioned that I hate painting? Hm? Have I? Because I do... alot... yeah. Well no, I enjoy painting... but I hate paint. It is evil. Seriously.

Ever try mixing up the colour purple from scratch? Red + Blue = Purple (says 6 years of art study)... Well, theory is all good and lovely - but apparently that's not how it fucking works!

I have pretty well wasted two tubes of perfectly good acrylic paint trying to mix the fucking colour PURPLE. I have been trying. REALLY HARD.

First I mixed blue and red and achieved an ugly raisin colour, so I added more blue. That soon changed into an ugly and dark plum colour. I am trying to achieve Violet here people. Vio-freaking-let. AND NOW I HAVE BROWN-PLUM. Well, so I tried to add some white in order to make it lighter and what happens? I END UP WITH FRICKIN' PASTEL LILAC. Lilac is light - PASTEL LILAC IS WHITE DUSTED PURPLE.

So then, I took out a whole new palette and pulled out my handy-dandy colour wheel (which explains how to achieve almost every colour) ~ and so I used it and tried again. And again. And AGAIN.

AND I DID NOT ACHIEVE VIOLET. WHAT THE FUCK.

I am trying to paint a dress here. The entire focal point of my ENTIRE piece is the purple highlighting on the dress. You hardly see any of the body (it's cast in deep shadow) and the thing that's supposed to just POP is the purple shimmer along the edges of the dress. Sounds pretty, yeah? WELL THERE IS NO FUCKING PURPLE.

Now I have to go out and BUY some purple paint, because dear God I cannot even mix the fucking colour. And while I'm out, I should pick up some more red and blue because I've wasted almost all of it trying to mix the fucking colour purple.

I have less than a weeks time to finish this portfolio. I am stressed as it is. And now, on top of everything else... my FUCKING PAINT HATES ME.

I am having a very bad day, M'KAY?!

*takes several deep breaths and cries*

Comments

[tousled-quill.livejournal.com]

Ok, now I feel ten times as bad for falling off the face of the earth and not writing your fics. I WILL WRITE THEM I SWEAR. I'M SORRY I AM A HORRIBLE FRIEND.

I did write you a quick twincest just now though. Because you had a bad day. And to BEG FORGIVENESS for being so negligent. I'm going to post in in a different comment, ok?

I LOVE YOU!! And purple is evil.

Twincest for you!!

[tousled-quill.livejournal.com]

It starts out like a normal morning, the first time. Fred wakes first, flails loudly enough to rouse George in the next bed, and falls back asleep. George rolls from his own four poster, notices that the rest of his dormitory has left for breakfast, and grins. Dressing rapidly, he grabs his brother’s clothes, and launches through the curtains to wake him by wrapping a red and gold tie around his neck.

A typical morning.

Then everything shifts.

Fred blinks and yawns, stretching up into George’s spread legs, and idly fingers the tie that is only half-choking him. “’Morning,” he says, sleepily, where he once would have fought his brother off. George loosens his hold on the tie, and Fred opens his eyes with wonder, feeling the first stirrings of blood in places where no blood should stir.

They could resist, but they see the eventuality in each other’s eyes; George gasps in tune with Fred’s uncertain whimper as they understand their desire.

“This is,” Fred murmurs, tilting his head.

“…so wrong,” George finishes, bringing their lips together with easy grace.

He tastes like me, they both think, and they laugh into each others’ mouths, unable to be serious in even the most serious of situations. Without thinking, Fred unbuttons his brother’s shirt, peels it off, throws it, and touches the skin underneath with cool fingers. He knows it by heart, for it is almost exactly his own…but it feels better on this other body, too close and forbidden. He pushes a his thumb against George’s breastbone and flattens his palm, feeling a phantom of the same sensation on his own chest. This is, this is, this is…

They both forget the difference between right and wrong.

It stops as suddenly as it began. They pull apart, and Fred smiles innocently at George. “I’m waking up, then?” he asks, and George tilts his head and returns the grin.

“Do what you want,” he says. “I’m not my brother’s keeper.”

It is normal again, a normal morning, a normal week. They do not speak of it, do not change.

No one notices when Fred begins wearing George’s shirts to breakfast.

Re: Twincest for you!!

[yue-d.livejournal.com]

...

*has nosebleeded a total of three times throughout this short piece*

Aiyah! Wooziness from lack of blood aside, YOU JUST TOTALLY MADE MY LIFE. GAH.

*loves you so hard*

[yue-d.livejournal.com]

Guh.

OMG *clings* ~ Wheeere weeere yooou!? *sob*

But OMIGOD! ~ actually, I was away from LJ for quite some time (due to internet difficulties) and the entire time I was like "OMG! What if she wrote me fics, and I can't comment and I make her sad by not commenting! NUUU!" XD ~ But when I got back, there were no recent posts from ya sou I began to wonder what had happened. I was SO tempted to just send you an email or something to see if everything was alright, but I was afraid that may have come off a bit stalker-ish :P But yay! You're back! AND IT IS NOT POSSIBLE FOR YOU TO BE A HORRIBLE FRIEND BECAUSE YOU JUST WROTE ME TWINCEST, AND THAT ENTITLES YOU TO BEING OF WORSHIP-STATUS, M'KAY?!

*goes excitedly to read his spiffing new twincest-y-ness :D*