Colored version of this thing.
I reserve the right to despise backgrounds forever
as a birthday gift to myself, i set a small amount of time aside to draw apriltello. everything looks weird, but i don’t care!
That April on the right is my most favorite. Also, as much as I like these, I should never draw turtles without reference.
"You have a subway car? I can’t believe it! Where did you got the parts?”
"The way of a ninja is a mysterious one, Jones."
I am through with my marathon and the fistbump between Don and Casey in wormquake kinda did something to my brain.^^
While I can still write April when I force myself to, that’s just it: it’s become less a game and more a chore. These past few weeks especially, I haven’t been nearly as motivated to rp as I have been in the past, and with the end of the semester looming, I’ve only felt ever felt guilty for being on here.
Rping should be fun first and foremost, so I think I’m going to take a short break from Tumblr for at least a couple weeks to pursue other interests and refresh. I’ll most likely drop by again to catch the new episodes when they air. Who knows? It may even couple with the break to rekindle my motivation. Until then, though, I’m just gonna log out and go cold turkey for a bit. I’m not dropping this blog or any threads or anything as dramatic as that! Just taking a break from turtles for a bit.
I’ll see ya when I see ya. :)
I laugh at anon hate, honestly. It’s nothing but the shallow, unfounded, destructive rants of a highly insecure individual who can find no personal self-worth through their own efforts, so they try to feed off of it from those who do have it—like a parasite. If all goes well, they will bring everyone else down to their level of misery so they can feel less alone. In all honesty, though, I feel more sorry for the anon, not the ‘victim’. Because the victim is anything but. They always rise above it and find themselves surrounded by a good support base, which is a testament to their true character and worth to those whose opinions DO matter, regardless of what the anon hate claims.
Ultimately, I want to invite the ANON to talk to me privately in my inbox OFF anon, because they’re the ones who need guidance and affirmation most. I promise I won’t judge before listening, either. If I did, I would be a hypocrite because I’ve done my fair share of shit to people, too, even if it wasn’t necessarily anon hate. Everyone is an awful person in their own way as much as they are an awesome person, and if you believe anything different you’re lying to yourself.
That’s the problem with our world; we’re so eager to label sides as ‘good’ and ‘evil’ because it makes it easier for us to put people and things into well-defined, organized categories and then move on. That’s how wars happen. That’s how discrimination happens. The problem with that behavior, however, is that our world is wrapped in shades of gray, not black and white. Do I condone the anon for pouring out hate? Absolutely not. Telling someone to kill themselves is just as terrible as pulling the trigger yourself. Do I think the anon is evil though? No. They’re a person with a backstory and motives directed by beliefs and convictions, as misled as they are.
My advice to people bullied by anons: step away from the computer. Broaden your narrowed focus. Go for a walk. Count the joys. Remember the opinions of those that do matter. Think of the source of the opinion that’s tearing you down, and remember this: your self-esteem is ultimately under your jurisdiction. If you allow someone to affect you, you are GIVING that person power over you. And with that power comes your trust and respect, because you trust that what they are saying is true and you respect their suggestions for improvement. Ask yourself if that person is really worthy of that: trust and respect. If not, then look to those who are because you are worth that consideration.
"I’ll slow down when we get there!" He exclaimed, hopping up the steps and rushing down the tunnel. "Just stretch those short legs, Red! C’mon!"
It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination— especially not with Casey at the lead, weaving through alleyways with April at tow.
After wedging themselves between two buildings that had barely enough space to slide through, the teens were found within what seemed to be a hidden back alley. Of course, with the dim silver light of the moon shining down against the walls, you could see they were slathered in graffiti.
"Here we are!" Casey stated proudly, standing in front of April with his spindly arms extended. A lot of the art was done by amateurs and gangs, but here and there, there were little, beautiful murals sprayed onto what were once red-brick walls.
"Check it out, this is what I wanted t’ show you." He stepped over a few paces before settling infront of one portion of the wall ahead. Following to where Casey’s hand was pointing, was a large mural taking up a good chunk of said wall. It was a very intricately painted skull at a quarter angle, with roses and carnations growing out from it’s eyes and mouth and under it, where they dripped down to the ground in vibrant reds, pinks and blues. It was unfinished— some flowers still uncoloured or detailed, but it was obvious how much time was already put into it.
"I’ve been working on this for like a whole month. People kept try’na paint over it when I first started, but they stopped so now I’m finally almost done.”
April had barely swept her tousled bangs from her eyes for the upteenth time that night before Casey slipped through a narrow crevice wedged between two brick buildings, pulling April in his wake. She didn’t have time to protest, because the next instant she found herself emerging into a space wrapped in what she could only describe as a living mural.
Countless graffiti tags and art slathered the olds walls that surrounded her in a patchwork of styles, colors, and themes. Bright new paint stood in contrast to the older, chipped designs, forming an unbroken, scattered timeline of impressions.
And for graffiti, it was kinda… cool.
Before April could speak, Casey directed her wandering gaze to the prominent skull ringed with flowers that nearly dominated one wall. Casey… made that? She couldn’t entirely say what she had been expecting. Maybe a crude stencil or a lazy ‘CJ was here.’ But this—this was almost poetic.
"You’ve been holding out on me, Jones." Stepping forward, April brushed her fingers over the skull, briefly allowing herself to marvel at the intricacy of the design. "This is incredible." Tilting her head to peg him with a scheming smirk, she added, "Remind me to bring you to the MoMA sometime. I think you’d like it."
Looking up | NYC