Just like you-Open!

[alex]

I COULD BE WEAK, I COULD BE SENSELESS

YOU KNOW I COULD BE JUST LIKE YOU
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Ashton was walking through the arrangement of paintings and sculptures in the museum today, amused by what he saw. He wanted to become an artist one day, a huge one. Maybe get one of his paintings in this museum and many others. That was his dream, his goal. The only thing he could really see himself being able to do later on in life. He admired an abstract painting from unknown artist; it was eccentric yet beautiful. The seemingly random strokes all coming together to make one image that made sense. Or at least, it made sense to someone like Ashton. The hues used, gentle colors of purple cream colors, depicted warmth and joy.

His parents probably didn't even know he was here. Ashton was becoming tired of his overly-protective parents. They were always watching him, always making sure he wasn't getting into trouble, always sheltering him from the real world. After his accident, it had been acceptable. Now, it was grueling and over done. He didn't need it anymore, there was nothing to protect him from anymore, he had seen almost the worst. Maybe they had picked up on his depression without him noticing, unknowingly adding to it as they tried to fix it. Ashton was slowly becoming more and more depressed, and he felt as if there was nothing he could do, it was just happening. Music, painting, and photography were his outlets. It was when he was expressing himself, being who he dreamed to be, that he was the most happy.

He steadily moved from painting to painting, looking for new ideas or just simple thinks to look at. He sighed at the next painting, with its blue coloring and somber strokes.it seemed the artist was sad in this one. Maybe, just maybe, the artist was feeling what he was feeling. As he thought of this the painting seemed to entice him towards it even more. There wasn't a day Ashton didn't mourn for his girlfriend, not a day didn't pass where he didn't think of her. It was all to chaotic and hard to forget, something that he felt would plague him for the rest of his life. It was all so unsettling, all so never ending.

Ashton tried to clear his thoughts once again, moved from the sad painting to the one next to it. This was a deception of fall leaves falling and moving through the wind gracefully. The falling leaves left the tree naked and bare, its branches sprawling out like hands reaching, reaching for anything. Maybe just reaching for its leaves back to cloth itself. The velvet rope stopped him from examine super close, but there was something more to the painting. It seemed to be an underlying piece under the leaves where they had seemed to fallen, or maybe just the artists signature. Without hesitation he went back to the blue painting, searching it for the artist signatures. It was just enticing, pulling him in so closely .

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tagged: Open!
words:Lots?
notes:First poooost!
credit: teddygraham @ caution

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[Mariette Jayne Vintance]

Oh, I'm just a girl,

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Typical prototype, oh, I've had it up to here!
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Mariette "Tink" Vintance decided she needed to get out of her foster home. Being such a beautiful day she felt the itching to grab her sketch pad and head somewhere inspiring. After mindlessly wandering around downtown she decided to go to the art museum. If she wanted to become famous someday it made sense to research people who already made it big, right? And the longer she stayed away from home the less of the "How are you feeling today?" questions she'd get from her foster parents.

Don't get her wrong. Tink adored Janice and Bradley. They were the ideal couple to have a child, Janice having been rendered barren before she was even twenty years old, but they deserved someone less...messed up for a kid. Tink had several foster brothers and sisters in the home with her right now who ranged from ages three months to seventeen. Tink was by far the favorite of the kids and she knew that the couple so eagerly wanted to formally adopt her. Tink wasn't ready to be adopted into anyone's family. She was such an outcast already and she was more a burden on this foster family than anything.

Already the couple had had to tap into their savings account to pay for the last of her hospital bills, therapy twice a week, and the regular visits with different shrinks. And still they openly accepted her and even referred to her as her chosen gender. Eggshells were walked on by everyone in the house which only served to piss her off. She wasn't some breakable, porcelain doll! Yes, she had tried to shoot herself in the chest. She'd tried her hardest to die but that didn't mean she was to be treated like an invalid! Tink wasn't pleased with being handled with kid gloves. As though one word would set her over the edge.

She sighed softly to herself and took her time walking. She gently smoothed out the bottom of her pretty, striped dress and checked herself out in a shop window. Her pretty, pink lips curled downwards at the corners in a frown. All she saw was sadness in her own eyes and the slouch of insecurity in her stance. She was feeling sort of down today. Her older foster brother had said something really mean to her about being a...well, it was a word she didn't even want to think about. She wasn't what he said, after all. She was merely a female born a biological male. And for him to be so cruel to her! She struggled not to cry as she sighed to herself one final time and adjusted her padded, custom-made bra.

Carefully she picked her way over a storm drain and her white, wedge heels clicked as she bolted across the street to the front steps of the museum. She brushed some of her blonde hair behind her ear and headed inside, paying her fee at the gate. A soft smile graced her lips as she slipped her sunglasses ontop of her head and headed straight for a new set of paintings. They were breath-takingly beautiful and one in particular caught her eye.

She flipped open to a fresh page of her sketch book and scribbled the artist's name into the topmost corner of the page. Her brown eyes were wide in wonder as she gazed at the painting. It was of a barren tree with it's leaves strewn haphazardly around the roots. It was so...painful. It clearly showed, to her anyway, that though death was a peaceful final it was often times messy and unorganized. She longed to reach out and touch the canvas but a velvet rope prevented her from getting too close. She looked wistfully down at her sketch pad.

She noticed a rather handsome boy staring at the plum and cream one she'd all but ignored in her frantic attempt to see the death-tree close up. She carefully came to stand beside him. Her head titled thoughtfully and something between excitement and curiosity flashing in her eyes. Her lips were curled slight in a smile and she brushed back her hair again before staring in depth at the painting. It was obviously a play on comfort and solidarity. The purple hues showed a sense of alone-ness, being utterly by yourself. While the swath of cream showed how a light was penetrating the solitude and comforting the painter.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? How wonderfully the artist melds together comfort and solitude. Or at least that's my take on it. What do you think?" Her tone was so feminine she knew it would be easy to fool anyone.

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WORDS; 784
NOTES; None!
TAGGED; Ashton/Mad
OUTFIT; Click!
LYRICS; Just A Girl - No Doubt
TEMPLATE BY; Me/Renskii

[alex]

WHENYOU’RE

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THE PIECES OF MY HEART ARE MISSING YOU[/COLOR][/TT]

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Ashton was a quiet person, he felt no need to talk unless there was either an absolute reason, or he felt there was something that needed to be said. He liked to mull things over before speaking, and that had saved him from sticky situations quite a bit. When you thought things over, you didn’t end up saying something stupid and regretful later on. These made him not even open his mouth most of the time, making people writes him off as a silent “moody” type. Looking back at the painting he wondered if one day he could enchant people as well as the ‘unknown’ artist who had painted it. He wondered slightly who the artist was. Was he some old man whose painting had been thrown away and found? Or was he a kid Ashton’s age, too afraid to admit who they were?

Life was just difficult. Painting was not the manliest thing one could do, and the one time he had ever admitted one of his own for the schools art auction, it had taken almost a month for the bullies to leave him alone. He still had a few scars on his legs just to prove how horrible the kids at his school could be. He wouldn’t admit to anyone he was being bullied though, that would be giving in. Ashton believed he could handle it all, get through it all. To Ashton, he did have it all under control. No one knew of the depression, the fading scars, the bullies; and that’s how he liked it. Beyond his mind set, everything was just getting worse.
The painting distracted him once again. The blend just melted together like it was unreal, like it had been one huge happy accident. To the average eye, it appeared to be just a mess. It looked like someone had thrown together their favorite colors in an attempt to make a painting the day before it was meant to be done. To a painter like Ashton, it showed something new, something as amazing as any ‘real’ painting. For what it symbolized, for what it depicted.. The way it made solitude not seem so bad anymore. He wanted to look closer, but the velvet lining was so cruel. He rested a hand on it, wondering what the cost of going under it would be.

Horribly engrossed in the painting and his hollow thoughts, Ashton hadn’t realized the petite, blond headed girl wonder up next to him. As soon as he did though, he felt his body tense up. Not in a totally obvious way, but he stood up a bit straighter. He felt himself become a little on edge and nervous, oh how sad he was. ”Maybe she will go away...” His thoughts were ended when she spoke, and he almost sighed. On the bright side of things, she seemed to think exactly like he did when it came to the painting. ”I was t-thinking the same thing..” He said, stuttering slightly due to his lack of ease around anyone else. His mouth seemed to be too big for his mouth when he spoke. ” its q-quiet beautiful. “ If Ashton could do so, he would melt away from his own idiocy.

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WHENYOU’RE

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The face I came to know is missing too [/TT]
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[Mariette Jayne Vintance]

I'm just a girl,

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Typical prototype, oh, I've had it up to here!
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Mariette couldn't deny the boy's shyness was absolutely adorable. She seemed to gravitate towards the shy, meek kids. Possibly because she felt she could help them since she was so unable to help herself. Or maybe her bright, outgoing personality just drew them in like moths to a flame. It was kind of a gift of her's, really, the ability to make people feel comfortable around her.

She titled her head in a most adorable fashion and touched the tip of her left pointer finger to her chin in thought. On any other girl it would come off as trying to hard. Though Mariette was surely not like most girls. She smiled softly to the boy, happy he spoke to her. Though she could tell he was unnerved by her presence and she sidestepped a half-step so that they weren't quite so close. Last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel awkward. She was shocked he felt the same about the painting. A true artist then, this one?

"So, what do you think this one is saying?" She said softly as she gestured to the fall landscape, "I th-- I think it is saying that though death is...peaceful. It's, uhm, messy and unorganized."

Her cheeks blushed as she spoke, a brief look of sadness flashing in her eyes before she smiled again. She turned to the boy and studied his face before turning her attention back to the painting. He was very handsome. Definitely a model-esque type if she saw one, though given his nervousness she doubted he was anything of the sort. She wondered how he came to be so well-versed in art. Had he, too, been through some great tragedy? Or was it merely that artist's third eye that led him to see so deeply through what most of these people chose to ignore.

"I'm Mariette, by the way. But my friends call me Tink, you know, like the fairy." She said with a little, girlish giggle.

She quietly moved to a painting on the other side of him. It was shades of blues, greys, and monochromes. Though a splatter of red and been done over the colors and the faintest yellow came to the corner of the painting. Oh my, was that one ever beautiful! Her brown eyes widened in excitement as she analyzed the painting. It was a symbol of hope. Hmm, so this was a progression? The messy, chaotic death turned to faint happiness in solitude which melted into this painting; symbolizing hope in despair. Perhaps the artist was bipolar or was recovering from grief of depression.

"Hope through despair. This artist must really be troubled. But, I think, that this kind of shows he came through whatever it was that was troubling him. Definitely a man due to the angle and heaviness of the brushstrokes. Perhaps he went through some great tragedy..." Her voice trailed off as her forehead creased and she flipped open her sketch book.

Her hands were a flurry of motion as she sketched out something likened to a cave mouth. The cave showed fingers and eyes peeking from the entrance while she sketched the rough outline of a small pond and a moon in the other corner. Her tongue stuck slightly out from between her lips in concentration as she drew. Ah, yes, hope from despair indeed!

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WORDS; 578
NOTES; None!
TAGGED; Ashton/Mad
OUTFIT; Click!
LYRICS; Just A Girl - No Doubt
TEMPLATE BY; Me/Renskii