#(Looking for a part time job but design and painting for school take up a lot of my free time)

[sinnamongirls]

patrick didn’t let most people know at stanford he had a sister.

and for the most part, people didn’t make the connection that 19-year-old adina rachel, the multimedia artist and fashion designer, was american tennis icon patrick zweig’s kid sister.

adina was the polar opposite of patrick. she embraced her new england-ness. she stayed in new york, lived in the city, attended NYU. she was quiet, analytical. she always looked like she was planning her next steps, the steps to take her enemies down. she was like if charlotte york was jewish and actually made art instead of dealing it.

but patrick loved adina. she was outspoken, had things she cared about. things that weren’t stupid, like tennis. adina’s greenwich village apartment was filled with posters and unfinished paintings, scraps of fabric littering the floor. anyone who knew adina’s background on a surface level would accuse her of cosplaying a broke, greenwich village artist. her parents were the fucking zweigs, they could pay for shit, right?

kind of. when adina said she wanted to go to NYU, her parents didn’t have a problem. when she said it was for art, they got worried. their daughter was talented, but she was very passionate. her mother thought that passion could work better somewhere else, as a politician, or teacher. something with a good paycheck. but george zweig remembered the woman he married: that woman was a gloria steinem reading, bra burning feminist who almost went to bryn mawr or wellesley. george knew the reason dina zweig didn’t like her daughters choice of career is because it mirrored her youth. she was afraid of her daughter getting her hopes up, following her passions, and getting hurt when they don’t work out the way she expects.

so they worked out a deal of sorts: her parents would pay for her apartment and basic necessities. school was her job to pay for. and luckily for adina, she got scholarships and grants to help pay for school, and she worked a part time job at a bookstore for extra pocket cash. sure, she was a rich kid. but she wasn’t spoiled. far from it.

and dina zweig, a high school english teacher, did secretly love telling her students who asked that the insane artwork in her classroom was made by her precious daughter.

george had some in his office, too.

patrick was the luckiest out of all though. when he got accepted to stanford (even though no one expected him to get denied), adina made him a one-of-a-kind piece. stanford’s most iconic buildings, hand drawn in pen and colored in with water color, with every single newspaper article mentioning patrick’s tennis achievements pasted in the sky above. it was incredibly detailed.

it made him cry when he opened it.

and it hangs above his desk now, a constant reminder of his talented as fuck kid sister and how much he misses her.

they facetime every week. and patrick invites her to fly out, to visit him. and she does, at one point, to watch him compete in the southern california collegiate speech and debate tournament. and it was worth the trip, because stanford won both the two-on-two and one-on-one debates.

there’s a picture frame on patrick’s desk. in it is a picture of him and adina at that competition. adina standing at a mere 5’3”, patrick at 6’1”. and despite their differences in wardrobe, and height, one look at their faces and you can tell.

they are, and always will be, zweig kids.

adina rachel (pronounced ra-shel) zweig

[gabessquishytum]

Another wholesome findom au where dream is hobs slightly older childhood best friend and hob had the most embarrassing puppy crush on him but dream never saw him as anything but a kid. They lost touch when dream went off to school and dont cross paths until hob is in uni about ready to burn out. He goes to the library late one night and sees dream working there, more beautiful than ever. Hob is proud that dream doesn't even recognize him until he tells him who he is, hes all grown into a man and he can see dream is highkey digging it. They go out and hob has the turning moment of "fuck i need MONEY" because theres so many lovely things he wants to get dream bc thats his king and god now. Dream is a bit amused but he shamelessly plays into it like "how are you going to provide for me if you dont study? Im sorry but im going to have to return that necklace you got me now :/" and hob wants to prove soso bad he can take care of dream and give him pretty things. He graduates with a good job already lined up and that night dream lets hob take him out to somewhere with an actual dress code. The day dream moves down to part time at work hob just about cums in his pants when he sees dream all relaxed in a little slip nightgown reading when he gets home from work knowing that dream has been doing nothing but online shopping for their new house and taking truly scandalous selfies to send to hob at work today. His ideal dream is one that wakes up at 10 and takes til 11 to kinda doze until hes good and ready. And wears all the fancy jewelry hob gets him.

-🔪

Omg this is so HOT. The inherent sexiness of Dream motivating Hob to do his best and take care of his beloved... amazing.

Whenever Hob has a moment of self doubt or feels like he has nothing else to give? He daydreams about the life he's going to give his Dream. Couture outfits and jewellery, expensive interior design, fancy art supplies. A nice massage every week, pedicures and appointments at a very expensive hairdresser whenever he wants. And of course vacations all around the world where Hob will be able to admire his lover in the most exotic locations! That's truly the life that Hob wants to make for Dream. And Dream? Honestly, he'd never ask for any of those things, but he DOES know that it turns Hob on a looooot to spend money on him. And Dream loves the make Hob happy in any way that he can.

So he dresses in his cutest designer lingerie, makes sure that Hob can see his beautifully painted manicure, and he takes as many good pics of his butt as he possibly can. It's vital that he gives Hob something juicy to sink his teeth into, so he can work extra hard...

One day they'll be living their best life together and sleeping in til noon. Dream is looking forward to cuddles with his hard working HUSBAND. Because yes, Hob will eventually have a net worth that's high enough to let him propose, and pay for the wedding that Dream deserves!

[dr-chosenberg]

On my recent rewatch I felt the inspiration to design my headcanon for what Dr. Potterswheel's late wife might have looked like! Born Marie-Thérèse Praxineaux, her maiden name is based off of the Praxinoscope which is an animation device that came after the Zoetrope

Voice: https://youtu.be/2MaiJtecGmI?si=H6h5nLCUQsk9039K

CW: Dr Potterswheel's gore fetish, infection, death, miscarriage,

She moved to Moralton because you know The War and was shunned because of the rumors around town of her being a foreigner and France being a place of sin and lust. The librarian there gave her a job because she assumed no moralton man was going to be interested because of her reputation and took pity on her. Oh another reason the moraltons hate her lol, France is a majority Catholic country. Marie was part of the minority there that was Protestant but obviously the Moraltons didn’t care.

In comes a young Quentin.

He was studying for his medical school exams and often came in, staying the often inaccurate statesotan medical books for long hours. Sometimes when it was just the librarian and the two of them she would avoid him at all costs, not wanting to further her reputation.

He was aware of Marie-Therese, she was pretty and always helpful when she knew where to find a book he needed.

One day some kind of accident happened, not serious enough that she was in any real danger but enough that she needed medical assistance. Maybe a bookcase fell on her and she needed some stitches?

M-T was not one to speak up or make a fuss, but Quentin had a handsome deep voice and spoke with so much authority. He did his best to reassure her she would be ok and in a sense it coaxed the words right out of her. She had a way with words and could describe her pain like she was painting a picture, I like to think she enjoyed writing poetry, but you and I both know that’s not why it attracted him so intensely.

Despite the town doing its best to shun her she still attended church every Sunday and every Sunday Quentin would inquire about her wounds progress and ask to see it. One day a few weeks after her wound had healed they were conversing and Marie-Therese joked sadly that they could no longer be seen together as she didn’t have the excuse of being his practice patent.

At which point Quentin proposed. It wasn’t the most romantic affair to most, he said it matter of factly as he does most things. But that was ok, she would have the bedside manner and the way with words for them both.

Their relationship itself….well they had a foot up on many Moralton couples as they were truly in love. Many would consider Marie a fool as he was not the most romantic man. He was soft when she would fuss or worry (think about the way he spoke to Bloberta when she said her wound was bad) but when she really took issue with something he wouldn’t get more emotional, but even less, she found herself at times disheartened at the way he would dismiss her worries and talk down to her. She insisted to her newfound housewife friends that they just didn’t know him like she did, which was *sort* of true.

She honestly didn’t mind his “preferences” she assumed that taking charge was what a husband was meant to do in the bedroom, and that a “little” pain was just what a good Christian woman had to put up with after a life of chastity. When she had other wounds and he would take a bit too much of a vested interest she thought it was just his way of showing he cared. She never understood why he would discourage what he called “unnecessary” medications like, allergy meds, antacids, etc. always feeding her a line about the lord helping those who help themselves.

She tried her best to become more like the other wives of Moralton, she even took up sewing and embroidery. She made a comment once about how she was just like him, sewing up patients. He stroked her head and smiled, “How cute. You’d worry yourself sick if anything important was counting on your little stick ‘n’ pokes.”

Things got better when they got the wonderful news that Marie was pregnant. Her pregnancy was very rough, unlike anything Quentin had ever seen. He would comfort her by telling her of the many strong mothers he had seen in his career so far, if she couldn’t handle the pain of the pregnancy how could she handle the birth? The smile he would give her when she would nod in agreement was all the soothing she needed.

She was nearing the worst of it when she used the last of her energy to embroider a handkerchief for him, with his initials on it. Sometimes he would use it to clean her face when she would cough up one thing or another, or wet it to soothe her forehead.

Of course she wasn’t *just* facing pregnancy complications, she had caught a whole other sickness entirely, an infection. The days went by and Quentin got more desperate. Out of love for his wife? Out of a need to prove his abilities as a doctor? Who knows. He would never admit fault for anything let alone a patient, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take the blame for losing the woman he cares for. He tried everything, except actual medical science.

Finally he relented and began to give her painkillers. I believe it would be more in character if he didn’t tell her. Visitors from the town and a young Reverend Putty suspected it but she was none the wiser. She used to say things like, “Ma moitié having you pray for me and care for me is so healing, I am feeling better already.”

When she could form full coherent sentences.

With the way medicine was at the time while some painkillers are safe for pregnant women these probably weren’t, but they weren’t what took her. It got to the point that she wasn’t herself anymore but spent her days lying in bed in a haze, barely awake.

She swore sometimes that she could see Quentin there at her side, watching her, even feel him stroke her hand. But when she got her eyes to focus he wasn’t there anymore.

One day Quentin went in for a morning check up and the sheets were covered in blood. He had lost his wife and his child in one fell swoop.

It was a horrific scene but she looked so serene. So comfortable. She was clutching his handkerchief.

Notes:

This takes place with the assumption that Moralton is not modern day, I headcanon Quentin to be around 50

This was fun, nothing is set in stone truly as this was part of a stream of consciousness conversation with my friend @cheonsa-n I’m fully up for criticism if anything seems out of character. I’m also happy to explain the reasoning behind certain choices!

I don’t personally buy the idea that Quentin killed his wife on purpose, a man with Quentin’s disposition who actually committed a murder wouldn’t resort to almost stabbing the man who accused him of it, that’s how you get people to think you killed your wife on purpose lol.

I hope you guys enjoy what I came up with. Their relationship isn’t fully this way as he was attracted to her and subjected her to some of the same treatment we saw Bloberta go through, but their marriage in my mind had a bit of a Madonna-whore complex flavoring to it. I also believe this is somewhat of an origin story for his habit of treating everything with almost exclusively painkillers. Marie-Thérèse couldn’t be saved but she was, as Quentin puts it, very comfortable when she passed.

In the AU where she lives she still suffered a miscarriage and Clay calls Dr. Potterswheel a babykiller instead. She is still as sweet as the day she and Quentin met but she isn’t particularly keen on giving Orel the time and attention he needs either, it’s too painful. When she does give him advice she tends to advise him to wait things out and not rock the boat. She tells him that good things come to those who wait.

[argumentalist]

I don't love the original Mobile Suit Gundam. I don't think it's aged great. But it's the original, so I've certainly got to give it credit. And there's some fantastic, iconic designs - like this old-school MS-09 Dom.

My Wife got me this kit a little while ago and it's just kind of been sitting in the queue, waiting to be built. Honestly, I was kind of intimidated - it's a huge box.

This is kind of a weird kit... The original design is from 1999. It got an update for P-Bandai in 2019, and then another update and a full re-release in 2021. So the runners are kind of all over the place. Some of the engineering feels kind of dated. And there's lots of duplicate parts.

Of course I had to paint the little pilot figures... And this is the first time I've used an airbrush on gunpla. I primed them with Vallejo Mecha Color primer, then painted them all black with Vallejo Model Air, then finally topcoated them with Vallejo Mecha Color matt varnish. I think they turned out pretty well... Except for that stray bit of yellow on the helmet that I didn't notice until I was taking pictures.

As usual, I painted the monoeye with my favorite metallic pink Gundam Marker. I just love how that pops.

This whole kit is just big and chunk. Very bulky. Those legs are absolutely huge.

The fit isn't great. Those shoulders, for example, didn't want to stay together. The red and black sections kept coming apart and I wound up having to glue them

This kit has the same terrifyingly well-articulated hands as the Origin RX-78-2 I built a little while back. They're not horrible to build, but I'm terrified they're going to break.

This is certainly a well-armed mobile suit. There's the heat rod, a machine-gun, two giant bazookas, a couple weird little hand-held rockets, and then some extra ammo.

This kit actually came with waterslide decals, which is always a nice surprise. Unfortunately, after using G-Rework and Delpi decals for the last couple of kits those Bandai decals weren't great. Seems like they didn't want to release from the paper very easily.

Annoyingly... While decals were included to mark this suit for Gaia, Mash, or Ortega - the marking guide didn't indicate who gets what. And I couldn't find any good examples of what rank/number each of the Black Tri-Stars were. So I eventually just decided to make it a random Dom. Nobody in particular.

And, again, I'm topcoating this with my new airbrush. I didn't do a great job. There's a couple bits where I went too heavy and there's some waterlines. A couple bits where there's some spattering. But, for the most part, I think it turned out well. It's certainly got a very nice matte finnish.

This is one chonky mobile suit. Those legs are simply massive. And the articulation really isn't great. I really struggled to get anything dynamic out of this thing.

I grabbed a Bandai Action Base 1 to get it up off the ground... And while that certainly helps deliver better poses - it makes the whole build even bigger and bulkier.

I'm left with seriously mixed feelings on this build. It looks great up on the shelf... And I'm fairly pleased with how my first airbrush work turned out... But I didn't love the build itself.

The articulation isn't great. The inner-frame is really not impressive - it's just kind of there to hang armor on. Despite the upgrades and revisions this kit still feels pretty dated. I think calling it a "1.5" is being generous.

But it looks truly striking up on the shelf. It's big and bold. That black/purple color-scheme is fantastic. I'm tempted to put more Doms up on my shelf... But maybe I'll try the HG Origin kits instead of these old Master Grade ones.

[megamagimugi]

Hey there, my friend! I saw you reblogging an artist ask game, so please allow me to make you a few questions 🥰

How about 2, 12 (I'm interested if you're willing to share!), 15 and 25? 💖

Sure thing, my friend!

Based on this:

2. How long have you been drawing?

Short answer: for as long as I can remember.

Long answer: I drew a lot as a kid (fun fact: I used to make quick uncolored pencil drawings to tell stories, kinda like storyboards; I would do it for hours and use so much paper that my parents eventually told me to draw on both sides😅). The fact that my older sister was very good at drawing - and I was very competitive - also motivated me to work hard and try to get as good as her. Then I drew less often in high school and in my first college since I had less time and was focused on schoolwork, and then started doing it more often again as I now study graphic design and would like to maybe become an animator if possible - the dream job of my childhood that I gave up on too early. When it comes to digital art specifically... I got my tablet, the very same one I use to this day (Wacom Intuos 4), for Christmas when I was about 15 or 16. Because it was so hard for me to learn how to draw digitally, and like I said I soon started spending less time drawing in general, sometimes I didn't use my tablet for long periods of time. That, of course, eventually changed into using it nearly every day.

12. Is it okay for people to ask you about your process?

Yes, it's okie dokie to ask!

...Or did you mean you wanted to know right now?

In which case, well, it depends on the medium and the specific piece since I don't always do my art the same way. Generally in digital art, for the characters I like to do a rough sketch first, then either a cleaner sketch or lineart (I rarely bother to do both, even in animation - unless my initial rough animation is like... really rough and basic, just to get the feel of the motion). Then I do flat colors, often on separate layers, and then shade/render each part. Or I do the whole character minus the sketch on one layer, it really depends. For example, I did Mario and Luigi both on one layer in my Brothership repaint/wallpaper, other that the yellow glow on their hands. For backgrounds... it really depends, but I usually build them up layer after layer, from general shapes to details, like a normal painting. Of course, I use some sort of sketch for most of them too, unless I don't need it because the BG is very simple or abstract. If I don't want my sketch to be visible, I basically just remove it and refine the parts that look bad without it, sometimes adding some brush strokes imitating lineart in some places. Happens to both characters and backgrounds. I use different brushes to create different effects, but in the majority of my works I've been sharing on here, I only really use a hard round pressure opacity brush for both the final sketch and rendering.

15. How long does an average piece take you to complete?

This one is always tricky to answer (yes, I've been asked this before by some classmates). Uh, several hours? It's really hard to tell exactly simply because I rarely just sit down and complete a whole piece in one go. Unless it's just a simple sketch/doodle. So in reality my average pieces often take me a few days.

25. Do you like to draw in silence, or with music?

There's one piece of advice in Richard Williams' fantastic book The Animator's Survival Kit that I don't think I'll ever be able to heed. It's this one:

Sorry but no, I do almost everything with music. It makes things more enjoyable and ironically makes it easier to focus in the long run. So, definitely drawing with music💯😁

Thank you so much for the ask, @silenzahra!😊

[yiiyiiwrites]

You’ve done older sisters, but what would older brothers be like for them?

Ohh ok...love this. Hadn't really thought of this, but I'm invested now and picturing who they are 🤩 It's quite long...Struggled to find inspo gifs too

Pope's older brother would be the ultimate cool guy, always with a pair of headphones music blaring. Even the Kooks like him, not that they'd say that to your face. The guy everyone seems to know at the party. Very creative, works at a sign company painting or installing signs around the outer banks and sometimes further out. Teaching himself graphics design alongside his job, wants to start his own design company one day (this means he gets roped into making promo for the Heywards and other small businesses). Smart like Pope but downplays it big time so not much is expected of him. Very stylish and always looks good. Doesn't know what his little brother gets up to, but always covers for him when it comes to their parents wondering where he is. Gets on with the pogues the most out of the older brothers.

JJ's older brother I think would be someone that had shift based job and is coming and going at different hours. Part-time fireman? Handy man in between....(why am I picturing a young Matt Casey from Chicago fire 🤭) Short shaved dirty blond hair and physically fit. Can be a bit of a dick, but hey he's a Maybank...Tired of always trying to stop fights at home but doesn't like his little brother getting hurt. Tries his hardest to make money and give JJ some stability even if he doesn't quite know how. He makes more mistakes with his brother...he's still learning (JJ and him argue a lot). Pogues have a bet on who gets a smile out of him first and it's still running.

John B's older brother would be in the army. Sends home money for him but it's never on time. Come's home rarely, didn't get on with their father because of the years he spent searching for treasure. When he does come home, John B always reminds him "this isn't army bro, can't order me around." Joining the army was his way out of the outer banks. Let's John B fight his own battles, but gives him a few pointers on how to throw a better punch. Listen's to JJ's exaggerated stories and tells his mates back at base. Has a soft spot for Kie as she's always been the only girl and the boys tease him for softly speaking to her and being gentle.

Kiara's older brother is in with both the rich/poor side. Hangs around with Topper, Kelce and Rafe, but doesn't try to get too friendly with them. Networks at every kook event and then parties with his friends to de-stress. Doesn't like JJ or John B (sorry), thinks they are a bad influence on his little sister. Works with their parents and studies business part-time. Want to say he was popular at school and was a star athlete at a sport, lots of girls like him. Kiara teases him about his group of fan girls waiting for him after games etc. Does have a steady girlfriend now though, that their parents approve of. Tries to get Kiara in with a kook crowd, but after her fall out with Sarah she was never interested in trying to fit in. Knows of Pope's older brother and hangs out with him during parties, but has never spent time with him outside of that.

✨ There you go. I struggled with Kiara's brother, the others weren't so difficult. If you have any other requests let me know! I'm still writing a few more requests that were sent :) - Yiiyii

Please do not take and post my creations, you may reblog/like but do not take and claim as your own.

[scheodingers-muppet]

@yournowheregirl's dolly fic has turned me into a southern Eddie truther so here this is;

Eddie always hated Hawkins. He hated the cold. He hated the music "scene." He hated the small-town-picket-fence dream all his classmates seemed to have. He hated the way it never felt like home.

That's probably because it wasn't home. Never had been. When Wayne's job transferred him to Indiana right before he started middle school, he wanted nothing more but get through school and hi-tail it back to Arkansas before you could say "Bless your heart!"

But when does anything ever go according to plan?

It was okay at first; he started to make some friends in his classes. Took up band. Wayne got him a Johnny Cash record and guitar for his birthday and he started to spend his free time learning his favorite songs to sing around the bonfire on warm Summer nights. Sure, it wasn't what his friends listened to, but he loved seeing their faces when he got to share a little piece of home with them.

In turn, his friends shared pieces of them with Eddie. Introduced him to Dio and Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie loved it immediately, being flooded with memories of reading The Hobbit with Wayne on sleepless nights after he first moved in.

Slowly, the country and flannels were replaced with metal and leather jackets. His accent slowly faded, not having a strong one to begin with unless he was drunk or excited. Occasionally, you could still hear it, if you listened closely to his rambles on metal music and fantasy stories. He started growing out his hair and gave himself some tattoos. His dream of moving back home turned into wanting to tour, to bring Corroded Coffin on the road.

Then, Wayne gets hurt. Dislocates his knee. It isn't anything horrible. But it's enough to keep him from working for a few months. Eddie tries to get a job to help with the bills, but who really wants to hire a 17-year-old metal head who needs every Friday off for D&D and every other Saturday for band practice? So he found himself on Reefer Rick’s couch, getting the run down on how to deal to his classmates.

He started to fall behind in class, to worried about keeping the lights on and his uncle’s medical bills paid. Even after Wayne starts working again, he’s built up a reputation as the school’s dealer so he keeps it up. He ends up needing to repeat senior year. His friends and original band members gradate and move out of state for school. Eddie's world begins to crumble.

He tries to rebuild what he can. He's befriended some more kids through Hellfire and even through he stopped doing school band a few years ago, he still knows enough talented kids to keep Corroded Coffin going. His life starts to look up again.

Until spring break of '86.

Eddie's always hated Hawkins. Hated the weather. Hated the excuse of sweet tea. Hated the monsters that lived in the Hell dimension below it, even if he didn't always know they were there.

What he loves however, is his people. His people, who quietly grew from just his uncle, to the band, to the Hellfire kids, then suddenly, a group of monster fighting teenagers.

His life starts to fall back in place. His recovery from the Upside Down is taking it's sweet time, but he's getting there. The kids surprised him with a new cane after he complained his wasn't "metal enough." Will drew up the design - the base being a black and red dragon with a skull that matches one of his favorite rings for the handle - and Hopper got it carved for him. Steve is driving him around most places until he's cleared to drive again. Even though his name is cleared, he still doesn't feel comfortable going many places so it's mainly doctors appointments right now. Robin paints his nails red and black on days when he's bedbound and Nancy helps with his hair since he can't get his stitches wet yet.

He slowly starts to share his favorite parts of home with them. He plays "Ring of Fire" at the bonfires Steve hosts over the summer. He gives Dustin his old flannels that don't fit him anymore. He teaches El how to make sweet tea the right way and starts to include more southern folklore in his campaigns.

Him and Steve grow closer; finally starting dating after six months of dancing around their feelings. They get a small apartment together after a while. Eddie proudly hangs his two guitars on the wall in their bedroom, playing Steve songs on his acoustic when he can't sleep. They host Hellfire in their living room every Friday and Uncle Wayne over for dinner on Saturdays. Corroded Coffin still play gigs at the Hideout, but they're starting to get some big gigs out of town. After years of repeated head trauma, Steve ends up needing hearing aids. It's not ideal, but it does mean he gets to stand front row at all of Eddie's concerts and not worry about his hears ringing.

He never does end up moving back home, but he does make a home in Hawkins. He brings in little elements of his childhood into their new house; a two-story with lots of windows. Him, Steve, and Wayne spend a weekend planting apple blossoms and sunflowers. Well, Wayne sits on the rocking chair, strumming on the guitar he got Eddie all those years ago while the boys make a garden. He keeps sweet tea in the fridge at all times and calls Steve his "Sweetpea" and doesn't try and hide his accent. Steve eats it up, asking him to say it again and again the first time he hears it.

The band makes it big and Eddie goes on tour. He sends Steve postcards at every stop and makes sure they play in Arkansas. He brings the guys to where he grew up, telling them stories at every stop. When Steve is on summer break from teaching, he brings him down too. It slowly becomes a tradition to spend summers "back home." It stops becoming just the two of them when they're able to adopt a little girl, who Eddie almost solely refers to as his "Darlin'" and writes a song for her, about a little boy who grew up longing for home only to realize he was able to build it back right where he stood. They band plays it on every tour, even if it's a lot softer than the rest of their songs. They play it for the first time at a "hometown-esc" show in Little Rock, where he first tells the world about his Darlin', with her and Steve watching from the side of the stage.

Eddie's always hated Hawkins, but he's never hated home.

[phrandallanton]

do you have any tips on learning anatomy ?!1?1 im losing my mind over it 😿

Watch videos on YouTube about it or looking it up online, basic info I know. We live in the time where information is so exseable, use that to your advantage! The only place you should avoid is TikTok. Don't get me wrong there are some good creators on there but tutorials are better on YouTube and Google as I feel like they explain more. Here's some channels I recommend for not only learning anatomy but art as a whole:

Marc Brunet:

Draw like a sir:

tppo

As of tips I can bring to the table, the biggest one is don't stress over making things perfect! One of the reasons why I love the RANFREN style is how poorly drawn it is and that's what makes it look good. I know it sounds like an insult but it's not. The hands are always so effed up looking and that's my favorite part. Another example is Shin Chan. A lot of the adult's faces are always so wonky but it works and I love it.

Of course you need to learn the rules before you break them. Even the most exaggerated art use basic anatomy/fundamentals. But you don't always have to play by them. Art is subjective, you can draw a piece that has perfect anatomy and fundamentals and people may still not like it. Draw whatever looks good to you and makes you happy!

(This may differ though as if you want to get into a job where you have to draw in a sertant way/sertant thing the whole "I don't care what people think" isn't going to work. I personally do art as a hobby and never plan on doing it to appeal to others so I can bank off of it. If one day I can do that, cool. If not, also cool. That's how I see it! When it comes to trying to make art profitable a lot of creativity can be lost as most places don't want to take a risk of doing something that can effect them and the money. Little tangent, oops. But yeah, keep in mind that what I just typed out is coming more from a hobbyist stand point rather a professional one!)

Another thing is if there's something you don't like about your piece, then fix it. I use to say whatever when there was something I didn't necessarily like about my art because I didn't want to redo hours of work or mess up something, but trust me redoing it and getting it somewhere you like is so much better. Once again, the internet has lots of information to help so don't be shy to look up on how you can make something look to your liking. Criticism can also help with this. Always be open to constructive criticism when you're wanting to get better! Doesn't mean you have to apply said criticism to your art but it's still something you 100% should be open to.

Also with practicing try and do 30 minutes at a time and taking 15 minutes breaks in between. You're brain tends to absorb more information then studying for an hour straight. And don't push yourself to study every moment of your life. You should have a good balance of studying and free drawing. And please take breaks too. Burn out is not fun, it can take a long time to overcome it. (Coming from someone who experienced burn out for over a whole year.)

You also may not learn at it right away. Take your time and go easy on yourself! Don't compare your art to others as you have no clue how many hours they spent into practicing, and I assure you most artist have drawn stuff that looks horrible compared to what they post online. People will only post stuff they think looks good for the world to see. Your practice sketches aren't the best but it's one of the steps that's going to help you get where you want to be! <(＾⊆＾)_/¯

[celestiarambles]

★☆☠■☮♦ൠ ▼ For Marina, Asal, or Anya? Lmao I'm just a curious individual here bruh

★ sad headcanon

For Marina Romanova - When Marina’s mother got killed and Grace offered her some tea, part of the reason why Marina pushed her away was because Grace reminded her of Angela.

For Asal Hawaa - Asal discovered who the Bureau mole was when she was investigating SOMBRA’s island, but she kept it a secret because she was too worried about Jack’s feelings if Mossad were to send a hit on the mole. It’s part of the reason why they broke up. (iykyk if you read The Pedestal)

For Anya Ivanova - Part of the reason why she always had the need to constantly prove herself to the MGB was because she was a woman. The MGB is mostly dominated by men.

☆ happy headcanon

For Marina Romanova - She likes sunsets, for they remind her of Jonah. They got married in a beach overlooking a sunset because of it.

For Asal Hawaa - When she started to date Jack, she bought a Polaroid and would take pictures of their moments together. Though she made Jack hide both the Polaroid and their pictures, she would smile whenever Jack would remind her of the pictures.

For Anya Ivanova - She decided to become a secret agent because she played the role of one once in one of her school’s theatre productions as a kid and enjoyed it.

☠ angry/violent headcanon

For Marina Romanova - After a big confrontation with someone, she would secretly throw things in her room and cry to herself.

For Asal Hawaa - As a Mossad agent, she rarely gets angry for she doesn’t like her emotions getting to her. But when she does, she bursts and curses you out a LOT.

For Anya Ivanova - One of her flaws is that she tends to get violent when frustrated. She didn’t have any orders to attack Jean Connerie or Asal, she did it in the heat of the moment when she couldn’t figure out where the hard drive she was finding was.

■ bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

For Marina Romanova - She would have a lot of calming things in her office and/or room, like those Himalayan salt lamps, stress balls, fidget toys, plants, cushions, etc. Oh, and her walls would be painted blue.

For Asal Hawaa - Asal doesn’t really have a permanent place due to her being a secret agent. She also doesn’t keep a lot of personal belongings that would point to her because she goes undercover a lot.

For Anya Ivanova - Similar to Asal, she also doesn’t have a permanent place. However, a sign that she’s been in a certain room is when she leaves behind some fur or feather. She likes wearing clothes with fur or feather.

☮ friendship headcanon

For Marina Romanova - She would arrange some sort of Bureau girl’s night when they have no cases to attend to. It just consists of them playing board games, drinking wine and watching chick flicks.

For Asal Hawaa - She doesn’t like making friends. She would always keep thing professional. But when she does have friends, she would be very secretive towards them and would like them to stay out of her personal business as much as possible.

For Anya Ivanova - She’s a people pleaser. If she becomes your friend, she would do ANYTHING for you. And I mean ANYTHING. She’s a ride-or-die type of friend.

♦ quirks/hobbies headcanon

For Marina Romanova - She likes baking. When the Bureau disbanded, she started a little baking business with Jonah as a side job.

For Asal Hawaa - She’s a fashionista. She likes going undercover because it means she gets to play dress-up with herself and experiment with her looks. If she didn’t become a secret agent, she would be a fashion designer.

For Anya Ivanova - She likes theater and ballet performances. When she doesn’t have a mission, she would sneak out to watch a performance from time to time.

ൠ random headcanon

For Marina Romanova - When the Bureau disbanded and she and Jonah got married, they just decided to not have kids together and travel the world. This time though, without the bodies xD

For Asal Hawaa - She only became a secret agent because she needed the money. Once SOMBRA was over, she quit Mossad due to the mental and physical toll it took on her and pursued her dreams as a fashion designer.

For Anya Ivanova - Before she was a secret agent, she starred in a Russian movie once. She even won an acting award for it. However, it made the MGB wary of her secrecy and capabilities.

▼childhood headcanon

For Marina Romanova - When she was a kid, her mother would spoil her with countless gifts after a big argument or when they miss an important event to her. When she got older, she would just throw the gifts away.

For Asal Hawaa - She would draw a lot as a kid. Even in the walls. She would mostly draw dresses, suns and/or random spirals.

For Anya Ivanova - She did ballet as a kid. This is where her love for ballet and performing started.

[hydrangeyes]

Mk x spray painter Male reader ☁️☁️

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

Edit: So shuffling through my docs It's been brought to my attention that wattpad (who I use as backup) Cut a lot of my fics in half??? anyway I'll be trying to fix that also

-----------------------------------------------------

Aaaahhhh this is such a cute idea!!!

Mk sees male reader spray painting on a wall and what's to join/try it out!

Warning: None!! Just super cute and mushy

Requested by: ekkozied

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the most part you started this mural on your own. The building owner wanting to brighten up the alley walkway to their backyard café, and well, the pay was really good. A quick in and out job really.

So you didn't mind cleaning it up and prepping the wall, what you didn't expect was just...how big the wall actually was.

Letting out a breathe you step back shaking the can of black paint as you eye the sketch you placed. Took you since this early morning, and by the sound of your stomach. It was definitely time for lunch.

Doing some stretches and fully opening your bag of spray paints. You felt in the mood for something pretty light but filling.

"Hmm, Pigsy's noodles it is"

Your stomach ended up making you buy 2 servings...

-------------

It didn't take long for your food to arrive, and while it wasn't your order you couldn't help but look back at the cute delivery driver.

Wide eyed and curious, Mk quickly was distracted by the mess of empty paint cans and the sketch you had on the wall. "Woah this looks so cool! How long have you been doing this!?" he shouts in excitement turning to you, seeing you on the ground eating.

You pause to swallow then grin "Thanks! A bit of a hobby, uh spray painting or working on this?"

"Yes." Mk asks

Letting out a snorted laugh you wave him to join you, which he does sitting close, "Let's see, I've been into art and specifically spray painting since middle school I think. Been working on this commission since 4 am? maybe 5?"

Mk gasps dramatically going a small tangent about hoping you at least took a break or how he couldn't even focus on being still for that long. to which as you watch him suddenly start organizing your empty cans, could tell.

"I like to draw and everything but I never branched out of sketches? Can't even imagine spray painting."

You tilt your head finishing up your bowl of noodles and getting up with a content stretch. Fully charged and ready to work.

"Well how about giving it a try now?"

Mk shakes his head watching as you pull out the colors you plan to use. "What!? Oh no no no! I would ruin it, what if I make a huge mess and then-" You interrupt him but handing over an orange spray can. Looking up at you Mk blushes at the calm and soft smirk you give him.

"I'll help if it's needed but that's the fun with spray painting. It dries quick and you can always paint over any mistakes." you wink stepping back and picking up a blue can. "So go wild delivery man."

Looking at the can Mk smiles a little. "Call me Mk."

---------------

You both had fun for hours, coloring in your design and every now and then when mk stayed in one spot too long, getting it on each other.

It was a big piece so day after day, mk came with lunch and a helping hand (When you allowed it). Laughing and tossing cans to one another, it was care free and even when you put on the finishing touches, mk stuck around around, watching you work and talking calmly about his recent training session or frustrations.

You catch yourself, when you start feeling excited when the time for lunch came around. Inwardly trying to keep your cool when when you both were tired, mk leans his head on your shoulder for a quick nap.

Falling asleep with him may have caused a slight scene, someone passing by thinking there was an accident (You guys forgot to clean up the red paint...).

He found himself, really relaxing with you. It was different than with mei which confused him at first. Till one day, it was just a little too hot and you took off your shirt to keep working and not get a heat stroke. Yeah. this feel was very different, that and he felt genuinely safe with you (emotionally of course).

-----------------

So when it was all said in done you both couldn't help but feel a little bit sad.

You came to deeply enjoy the hyper man, find him cute and a great talker for times of burn out. And he adored the time with just having fun uninterrupted with someone he....well he realized he was starting to catch feelings for.

It shouldn't have been too much of a surprised when Mk suddenly asks you out. In the middle of cleaning your equipment up, you jolt as you feel him take hold of your arm. you see how he couldn't really look at you, his cheeks a deep red and shifting as if shy.

"Mk?"

He's quiet then with a deep breathe, looks at you straight in the eyes with all the determination and adoration he had.

"WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME N/N!"

Blinking at the outburst then seeing how he started to fidget more, it finally registered what he asked/shout.

Blushing you smile brightly.

"I would love too."

[pxsserine]

— TASK 001

all that being and nothingness, on the same möbius strip

basics.

SIGNATURE DOOR — jo's door is perhaps closer to a window than a door-- a clear pane of glass with a freshly painted white frame, that opens to the side with a cranking knob. it sits snugly in the air, about six inches above the ground, necessitating a raised leg to go over the threshold. the door itself is about six feet tall, with a a single white beam running horizontally across it, dividing the pane into two. on either side of the door are cream colored curtains, always seeming to flutter in non-existent wind, and always seeming to be dappled with sun in the way that it sits in the last golden hour or two of light.

jo isn't sure if the door comes from memory or from himself, and part of him is too scared to really ask. if we're being honest, it mostly stems from his essence, though certain elements of it draw on core elements of his childhood. that being said, there is no matching, perfectly identical door out there for him to find (even if part of him always, unconsciously, is keeping an eye out for one).

SOUL SEVER — those classic sewing scissors, the ones shaped like a bird. jo's pair is slightly larger than average, closer to the size of a standard pair of paper cutting scissors. his are gold, seeming to show marks of age and use, with a few scratches and dull spots. his normally hangs from his belt, on a chatelaine-esque chain, along with a mundane pen and a small brass stopwatch.

he doesn't know where it comes from, and tries not to hypothesize too much on the issue.

DESIRED EMOJI — 🍵or 🧠

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S WINGS LOOK LIKE? — jo wears the wings of a european robin. they're not very large -- if we're being honest, they seem slightly small against his (fairly) lanky form. the outside of the wings are a soft grey-ish tan, in a fairly muted tone. on the underside, they're a downy white, flecked with the occasional black feather. his wings tend to express his feelings when his face doesn't -- he's not as good at schooling them as he is at schooling his face, and they'll flick slightly when he's irked.

WHAT SHAPE DOES THEIR BARDO USUALLY TAKE? — great question! we simply don't know, considering that jo has never actually entered his.

if i had to say, if he had ever entered, the base shape it would take would be an old boston apartment, one that's a bit small and cramped, filled with odd little nooks and a lot of light and air, the smell of the harbor wafting in, coupled with a late autumn chill. it wouldn't be the space he died in, but a space that's almost adjacent, stripped bare of any remnants of the person that broke his heart. it would be a place designed for the quiet of being alone in a bustling city, if that makes sense.

WHAT ARE THEY LIKE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF AFTERLIFE AFFAIRS? — quiet! not here to cause a fuss! just wants to do his job and get it done with! is probably working more often than he isn't working, so there's that sense of him always being busy. i think i mentioned this in the server, but i really imagine him as that co-worker who you tell a bunch of your problems to, and then a little while after, you realize that you don't know anything about them. in that regard, it's also easy for him to fade into the background since more often than not he's hanging around romeo, so he can just let romeo take the spotlight. anyway! quiet! good-meaning! often has an open ear, and if he's judging you (which he may often be!) it's hard to pick up on unless you know him.

WHAT IS THEIR OPINION ON 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎? — is sort of two minds. on one hand, jo likes structure and procedure. he likes when things make sense. and 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 provides that in spades!! he likes the clarity and certainty that they offer. but at the same time, part of him wonders why, with all the power they have, does he not have his memories? why would an ultimately caring entity leave him in such a space of ambiguity and stress? it's a tension that often plagues him.

optional.

HOW DO THEY LOOK LIKE/DRESS LIKE IN THE AFTER? — well he isn't sure! in the after, jo opts for light, neutral colors and items with a slight drape to them. think tan sweater vests over white shirts, soft brown sweaters, wide legged linen slacks, etc. it's all stuff that's meant to look put together, while also allowing for ease and comfort.

(also, he is almost always wearing a watch, even if it doesn't quite work anymore.)

(also also, in life, he tended to opt for darker colors and a slightly more formal/darker toned clothing that more emphasized professionalism and warmth — the curse of living in the boston-cambridge area for the ten or so years before his death.)

ANY NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS WITH NPCS AT THE DEPARTMENT? — likely enjoys the company of the doorkeeper/spent some time talking with him after refusing to enter his personal bardo. like... there's something that jo probably really enjoys about his affable demeanor and their general interactions.

ARE THERE ANY RUMORS OR GOSSIP ABOUT THEM? — probably some hubub around his refusal to enter his bardo and what the drama/issue there is!! also, mirroring what maya said, likely some questions about the specific nature of his relationship to romeo. i also have to imagine that some people would LOVE to know if it's possible to actually make him angry/what it would take to push him that far.

[psychic-refugee]

They were born into wealth beyond a commoner’s imagination. They traveled in private jets and went to the most prestigious boarding schools. They had holidays all over the world and ate the most delicate dishes.

They were invited to exclusive fashion shows and designers begged for them to wear their clothes.

Universities allowed them to simply walk onto any campus of their choosing, as Admissions knew they would have a robust endowment in their future from having the heirs to the wealthiest families as alumnae.

It was by pure chance they never came across each other, but once they turned 21, they were alerted of their arranged marriages.

“What?!” shouted the normally placid Wednesday at her parents, visiting during spring break.

“Darling…how else do you think we keep wealthy? We arrange for you to marry only from the best families…” Morticia tried to sooth her angry daughter.

“Please tell me you’re not trying to marry me to a cousin.”

“No, we’re not those types…” Gomez also had a distaste of the elite marrying into their own family to protect their assets. “But Xavier is from a very good family in Canada…”

“I don’t care, it is 2023, no one has their marriage arranged anymore.”

“Yes, they do, darling. It is the way of our world…you like having money, correct?” Morticia all but threatened to cut her off if she didn’t comply.

That caused Wednesday to stomp off, ignoring her mother’s plea to at least look at a photograph of her intended.

Wednesday had no desire to see what this Xavier Thorpe even looked like; she would not be told what to do.

Vincent Thorpe was a bit more efficient with his son. He sent a text as Xavier painted in a loft his father paid for, simply saying:

You’ll be married in a year’s time or be cut off.

Xavier rolled his eyes; his father didn’t even deign to tell him his intended’s name.

He had a suspicion his father would arrange a marriage for him, but he thought he had until his thirties. He wasn’t sure why he was being married off so soon.

“Can I live with you over break?” he asked his best friend Ajax.

“Why?” as he knew Xavier lived in a posh loft in the nicest part of Toronto. He was visiting his friend while on break from film school in NYC.

“My father wants me to get married to someone I do not know…I want to see if I can make it as…an average person,” he did his best not to call his friend a “poor.”

That made some sense to Ajax although he thought Xavier would not last a week. He had known him since they were little, Ajax was the son of the Thorpe’s topiary gardener.

Xavier was so ill fitted to be a poor student that he had to borrow Ajax’s clothes, although the heir seemed to be having fun at the novelty of wearing a hoodie.

While in a NYC coffeeshop that only had one espresso machine and prepackaged baked goods, he met the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

She was in an oversized sweater and looked a bit lost amongst the other students, but he introduced himself as,

“I’m Percy,” the fake name he would go by in his experiment. He didn’t want anyone to recognize the name of such a wealthy family.

“I’m Jenna,” she said, just as awestruck of him.

They slept on their best friend’s couches, and both decided it was the best idea to have run away from their betrothals.

“I’ll show my mother,” Wednesday thought vindictively.

Wednesday was living with Enid, her freshman roommate who had become her best friend. Enid lived with several other girls in a fashion college in NYC. The other girls weren’t exactly happy with how Wednesday barged in, but when she paid for their cramped apartment for the year with funds she happened to have in her purse, they stayed quiet.

Enid wasn’t exactly sure how to tell Wednesday that she wasn’t actually living as a “common” person because she didn’t have a soul sucking job just to keep a roof over her head.

Enid and Ajax eyed the other, both suspicious of each other’s best friend.

After they hooked up, they stopped caring what their rich friends were doing as they could take care of themselves.

All through break, Percy and Jenna spent as much time as they could with one another. Enjoying long conversations about art and writing, touring the New York libraries and museums. They even did an outdoor bonfire, clothed in a t-shirt and shorts. They both found it refreshing to not be around rich people who only ever spoke of their money.

“He’s an artist,” she sighed to Enid, “He’ll probably never make any money…my parents would hate him.”

Enid just grimaced and hoped her friend wasn’t about to do something rash just because she met a handsome boy and wanted to get back at her parents.

Wednesday truly did love Percy, she just thought him being an impoverished artist was the cherry on top.

Xavier, on the other hand, was willing to impoverish himself to be with Jenna as he knew he’d marry her before he married the unknown woman his father chose for him. He had no idea how an artist and a writer would make a living, but they would figure it out.

Since school break was about to end, neither could fathom leaving the other, they opted to get married at the local courthouse.

“How is this legal? You told him a fake name?” Enid thought she was about to have a panic attack because Morticia Addams was certainly going to kill her.

“Oh that. I simply slipped the Clerk a $100 to change my name when Percy wasn’t looking.”

It turned out that Xavier did the exact same thing.

The Clerk was very confused why both applicants were using fake names with each other, but he accepted the money with a happy face.

Enid and Ajax weren’t sure why the other looked so stressed at the events, but they both dreaded when their rich friend would tell their parents.

Xavier was confused when Jenna told him they’d meet her parents at the most expensive restaurant in New York and that she had something to tell him.

Morticia and Gomez were confused when their prodigal daughter was sitting with her betrothed, as they would recognize Xavier Thorpe anywhere, even if he were wearing an off the rack suit.

They kept a straight face for as long as they could when Wednesday told them with a smug look that she had married a man of her choosing and that any betrothal was broken.

“So…you met ‘Percy,’ fell in love, and got married at the courthouse to escape your betrothal?”

“Yes, and it’s all perfectly legal,” she insisted.

Wednesday was baffled when her parents had both started to laugh so hysterically that they fell to the floor with tears in their eyes.

Although it made her want to chew glass that in the end she ended up doing exactly what her parents wanted, she was glad that at least on some level she did choose Xavier.

They both thanked their friends and gave them each an apartment. Both had fainted at the luxury accommodations.  

“I am glad we’re able to keep our money,” Xavier confessed. “Being poor was terrible.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” Wednesday could at least admit that, even if she was willing to go through with it to be with him.

“Want to mansion shopping for our summer home in Toronto?”

“Yes.”

He pulled her into a loving embrace and was glad that things turned out perfectly. He admired the matching rings on their hands, bands of black platinum, fire opals, and diamonds.

A rare and unique set, just like them.

Card under cut

[makaybee]

Giana was an only child that played in the quite streets of Willowcreek. Though her parents, Thomas and Alana Mullins, gave her the best of everything, there was always something missing. Her request for more siblings was met with rejection, and involuntary solidarity made her aware of just how alone she was. Both parents were workaholics. Her mother, a Britechester graduate with a distinguished degree (with honors) in Fine Arts, had at the time landed a job as an art curator. Her father was a chef at a five star restaurant and cooked more meals for strangers than he did for his own family. Looking back now, she could understand why having another child wouldn't have been the best decision.

Her relationship with her mom became strained as she aged. Alana strove for perfection in her work life and expected the same of her home life. As a result, Gigi attended a private high school that probably cost more than her mother's luxury car. With her mother's firm insistence, she attended a plethora of extra curricular activities. Soccer, softball, art club, music...there were too many to count, and if it weren't for the wall of framed awards her mother displayed in her library, she wouldn't even remember any of it. Because if she were being honest, she didn't care. The trophies, the acknowledgments, were just another way to earn her parent's attention.

Her despondency worsened in college. Her mother insisted that she follow in her footsteps. Gigi really didn't want to take the same path her mother took, but part of her still yearned for attention and approval. And so, she also pursued a degree in Fine Arts. She used painting to express her anger, and for a while her pieces, though brilliant, were filled with caged frustration and loneliness. Then she ran into Dillan -quite literally- outside of the Foxbury Common Cafeteria. (Nobody had mocha lattes like Foxbury.)

Distracted by the phone in her hand, she had just enough time to register the long string of expletives (Did she detect a Mt. Komo accent?) before a dripping hot slice of pizza, followed by -was that a fizzy blurpleberry soda?- splattered on her brand new white Simverse sneakers. Well dang.

Slowly, she pulled her eyes up from the bubbling mess on the ground. She totally expected to be berated for ruining some poor guy's lunch. Her gaze took note of his ruined Simdidas shoes (definitely limited edition), fashionably distressed jeans, (covered in pizza sauce), to the shirt that read “Never trust atoms. They make up everything”. The guy stared at the ground for what seemed like forever, so she couldn't read his expression behind the expensive designer glasses he wore. Still, she could've sworn she picked up on a bit of anger? Hostility?

His eyes flitted to hers, but only for a moment before dropping once again to the mess between them. She braced herself for another slew of profanities, the kind worthy of a parental advisory label, but all he asked was, “How do you fix a broken pizza?”

She stood there baffled, unsure of how to respond. The absurdity of the question in a situation like this...

His dark eyes rose to meet hers before asking once again. “How do you fix a broken pizza?”

Still she stood there, mouth gaping, probably looking like a fish out of the Brindleton Bay. “Tomato paste.” He said with finality.

“What?” She asked.

“That's how you fix a...pizza. You know...that’s broken. Tomato paste. Get it?” A single brow rose as he studied her reaction.

Gigi let his words run through her head for a second as she struggled to piece together the scene unfolding. Before she could stop it, laughter, genuine and pure, poured from her traitorous lips. She couldn’t believe she was actually laughing -like a chortling donkey, mind you- at such a corny joke. Honestly, it was the stupidest thing she ever heard. And yet, it was at that very moment, she knew she found a kindred soul, and she wouldn't have to be alone for as long as he was around. Needless to say Gigi and Dash were fast friends after that day.

[astralfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { VERONICA LEE } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE } is ? they kind of look like { PARK SOO YOUNG } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { 28 } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { 13 YEARS  }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { SAMANTHA JONES } from { SEX AND THE CITY }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { COVE WELLNEST CENTER } as a { ESTHETICIAN }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE AESTHETE } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { CALLOUS } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { IMAGINATIVE } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 3 BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { SUNNY SHORES }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!  { MARCY. 25. SHE/THEY. CST. }

statistics:

full name: veronica lee

nicknames: ronnie, ron

birthday: august 27, 1996

hometown: miami, florida

occupation: esthetician, aspiring artist

hobbies: upcycling thrift finds, embroidery

lives: sunny shores

background:

growing up the child of a famous boxer certainly had it’s perks, giving ronnie a taste for a life of luxury she would soon realize she loved. an absolute daddy’s girl at heart, her mom made sure she was there to celebrate after every match. the time not spent at venues or gyms was dedicated to family trips, both parents ensuring that ronnie was always certain she was the center of their world.

trying on her mom’s clothes and putting on fashion shows for her and her friends soon became ronnie’s top hobby, encouraging her mom to start letting her put together outfits of her own and picking items when they went shopping. fashion was clearly an outlet for her, learning to use a sewing machine proficiently by nine and following complex patterns by ten.

though she has a knack for it, the process of designing and making clothing and accessories was never her passion. she much preferred to wear them, loving the way certain pieces made her feel and loving even more how people thought they looked on her. upcycling became a side gig through high school, her parents wanting her to have a job to learn responsibility after moving to palmview for a quieter life.

her true passion however, lies in art. her favorite class since elementary, ronnie seemed to find a different side of herself on canvas. family trips included frequent stops for ronnie to pop out a quick sketch, filling more sketchbooks than she had years alive. these sketches were turned to canvases when they returned from their trips, and filled nearly the entire art room her parents set up for her. her parents and teachers encouraged her to enter them into local art competitions, which she did, and often brought home gold. painting gave her a way to express herself in a softer way than words, which typically came out harsh.

as she approached the age for college, she begrudgingly applied for universities close to home, the need to please her parents deeply engrained. it was here she met her best friend, each never seen without the other. those around them always wondered, but the rumors were baseless until sophomore year when the two shared a kiss, leaving ronnie out of a best friend and full of regrets. she dropped out soon after winnie cut contact, much to her parents dismay, and pursued esthetician school which she practices part time while chasing her art career.

in her free time, she’s found in her art studio, commissions to be filled, or, a new project always at the forefront of her mind. most of her time is spent trying to get more exposure, the esthetician job mostly a side gig at this point for her. while she loves her clients and coworkers, it’s simply a means to an end until she can live her dream life. she’s received a few offers from galleries to showcase her work, but the ultimate goal would be to own a gallery of her own, filled with her art and spaces for aspiring artists to showcase theirs.

[wingsthatshimmer]

The Night After the Battle

Summary:

Takes place right after the battle in Finale. This is Nora's first time sleeping with Patch. I wanted to make it romantic, playful, and light. Let me know what you think!

It was about 4:00pm when we finally reached a secluded double story house near Delphic. I dwelt on the evergrowing to-do list in my mind with gathering dread. Of course, I had a lot to answer for. Patch had made a stop at my school to prevent them from recording my absence and notifying my mother. I was against the idea of using mind control powers for personal gain, but I reasoned that there wasn’t much else I could do in this instance. Besides, how many more times would I have to take a day off school to lead an army of Nephilim into a holy war? Hopefully, just once.

I tried to draw my attention back to the problem at hand. Ok. No pressure, you’re just spending the night with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who can now feel your touch. Every time the thought of spending the night with Patch crossed my mind my whole body became warm with excitement.

Patch opened the car door for me. “Welcome home, Angel”.

He laughed when he saw my expression. I was staring, wide eyed, jaw dropped, at the most beautiful house I’d ever seen. Initially, I hadn’t noticed how magnificent it was due to the fence that circled the property. The house was surrounded by a lush garden that beamed with colourful flowers, hanging vines and a small water fountain at its centre. The house itself, although modern, was clearly cottage inspired with large windows and a cream-coloured exterior. The jewel of the house was its wide balcony. The iron railings were meticulously crafted with a lace design. Red flowers hung over the railing and contrasted beautifully against the crème paint. I was in awe.

Patch held my hand and walked me towards the house. Without his guidance, I would’ve remained glued in place by shock.

“Tell me this isn’t yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s ours. I’ve kept it hidden and ready in the hopes that one day, after the war, we could have a place to call home.”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t happen to have a whole property portfolio dedicated to magical looking real estate, would you?”

He laughed as we reached the door, “Not yet. But if that’s a requirement for you, I’m sure I can work something out.”

We entered the house and somehow, the interior was even more impressive. The rooms were enormous yet there was a cosy quality about them. Rows upon rows of bookshelves adorned the walls of the room to my left while the room to my right appeared to be a dining area. Patch and I were standing in the hallway which looked as though it ended at a wooden staircase near the back of the house. The afternoon light beamed through the windows and lit up the whole house. For me, this home was a paradise of peace.

I turned to Patch, “This is perfect. Thank you.”

He drew me into his arms and kissed me, “Just wait ‘till you see the shower.” He stopped and smirked, “You know, soap, shampoo, hot water…”

I laughed at the shared memory, “Naked. I know the drill.”

***

I now stood in the empty hall; before me was the bedroom door, and I stopped, slightly intimidated by the prospect of what might happen and feverishly trembling from the cold. I glanced down to study myself. I was fresh out of the shower and the towel I was wearing did an absurdly poor job of covering my body. It wasn’t exactly my idea of sexy, but it wasn’t as though I had another option. Well. This is as good as it’s going to get. I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back and opened the door. The room was dark: a large candle burnt on the table: Patch stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless.

He turned to face me when I walked in. For a moment he looked at me with what I guessed was astonishment. His lips parted as he looked over me and I felt my cheeks flush. For the first time, he looked truly undone.

“Do you feel as if you should sleep, Angel?” asked Patch rather softly.

My blood ran warm. I looked down, aware of how ridiculous I must’ve looked to him.

“No, not really.” I said under my breath. Still looking away from him, a singular notion dawned upon me: I had no idea what to do. I had often thought about how my first time would play out and it excited me. Now, however, the excitement was drowned out by fear; I was firmly in the grips of ignorance and discomfort.

I let my eyes roam over his body. He was lithe, almost wiry yet muscular. He was perfect. I flushed when I met his gaze and realised that he was staring at me.

I looked away, “Sorry,” I stammered. “I’m not really sure what to say. Or what to do.” I tugged nervously on the hem of my towel.

“Let me help you…” he began coyly. “You could always start by listing all the things you find sexy about me.”

As he laughed, my breath left my chest in a grateful rush at the sound. “Is this a test? Or does your ego just need stroking?” I replied.

He took a step closer, and then I was gliding into the circle of his arms. His embrace was like a sanctuary. It was Patch, I trusted him.

“You’re trembling, Angel” Patch stepped back and looked at me with concern. Seeing him like this, uncertain and worried – it nearly made my heart shatter into pieces.

“No thanks to your horrible taste in towels.” I replied only half-jokingly.

He laughed and drew me back safely into his arms, “My apologies. From now on, you can be in charge of all matters towel related.”

As soon as he held me close, the fear melted away – for both of us. His hands travelled up and down soothingly over my back. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, “Fine. But my towel expertise is highly coveted and valuable. I’ll have to bill you for my services.”

I could feel him laugh at that. “I am perfectly happy to oblige. Please advise me on what form of payment you prefer most.”

I looked up at him to respond but my attention strayed to his lips and stayed there. I was barely able to get my reply out, “A kiss would do for now”.

Patch tensed against me. Desire flashed across his face. He placed a light kiss on my forehead and grinned wildly. There, I’ve paid my due.

I returned his smile; you’re going to have to do better than that.

His grin widened.

Instead of replying, Patch lifted me into his arms and walked me to the bed before laying me down gently. As soon as my body hit the mattress, I let out a sigh of bliss and sunk into the comfort of the silk sheets. “You might be lousy at towels but your taste in bed sheets has always been immaculate.”

Patch chuckled as he sat down beside me and pulled me into his lap, “I remember how happy you were the first time you slept over at my place. You loved the sheets. I wanted to make sure you were just as comfortable here.”

“Mission accomplished. I’m never leaving.” I suddenly became aware that I was in my boyfriend’s bed wearing nothing but a towel. My insecurities flared up again. I sought out his shoulder and rested my head against it for a sense of comfort. As though he could tell how I was feeling, Patch drew my body closer to his and wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace. He held me; more tenderly than I had ever been held. As before, the nerves dissolved.

Hooking one finger under my chin, he lifted my mouth towards his lips and whispered under his breath, “I love you, Nora”. Before I had the chance to respond, his mouth was on mine. I immediately sunk into him, taking in his familiar scent of fresh mint. His lips were soft, and the kiss was slow and gentle. It was the kind of kiss that was filled with adoration. His gentle kisses told me I was loved, they told me I was safe.

Slowly, I let go of the towel. Patch stopped me and whispered under his breath, “Angel, are you sure this is what you want?”

I nodded, “I trust you.” And even though I meant it, my voice came out slightly shaky.

A look of worry flashed across his face, “We’ll take it slow. If you feel even the slightest bit unsure, we’ll stop.” And then he let my towel fall off my body. I felt my temperature soar as his eyes raked me. His gaze shifted over my body and back to my face. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, the concern he had for me.

“I’m ok.” I said firmly, taking his hands into mine. “Kiss me.”

He pulled me underneath him and sheltered my body with his own. I wrapped my legs around his hips. When I tightened my grip, I felt his body get hot and his breath ragged. Slowly, he started placing kisses all over my body as I gasped, moaned, and twisted under him. He kissed my lips, down my throat, over my breasts and my stomach; they were tender kisses that told me I was loved; passionate kisses that told me I was desired; soft kisses that told me I was cherished. Both of us pressed as hard as we could to get closer.

Every time he removed an article of clothing from his body, he would stop and ask if it was ok. When there was nothing separating us except skin, he leaned over me slowly and when our bodies finally made contact, I felt him suck in his breath. As if it was too much for him, he leaned back. His hands slid over my hips and landed on the inside of my thighs. I shuddered at the contact. He looked up at me as I stretched my body out. His eyes darkened at the sight. They were filled with hunger – hot and devouring - as he stared at me. I let myself fully take in the sight of his body for the first time. Although I had seen him shirtless many times, I was still in awe of his body: the build of his shoulders, the curve of his biceps, the muscles that lined his abdomen…and, when I shifted my gaze lower, there was something else; an unfamiliar sight. Without meaning to, I started to giggle. I quickly stopped; my own reaction startled me.

Patch laughed at this, “If you’re trying to humble me, it’s working.”

“No! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You look great.” I said trying and failing to bury a chuckle.

“You don’t sound too convincing, Angel. Maybe I’ll stop.” His feigned sadness made me laugh harder. I placed my arms around his shoulders and pulled him hard against me. As our bodies scraped together, I could feel his pulse jump. He laughed, a low, dark rasp before pressing another kiss to my lips.

Every time he pressed his lips against mine, I felt explosions going off inside my body. His soft kisses gradually became the hard, hot, driving kind. We were glued together, a heady mix of damp skin and body heat. I felt inexpressible relief, a soothing conviction of protection and security, each time he would stop and look up at me with the question of is this ok?

“Are you ready?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Yes but - ” I said, and broke off. “Do you want me to stay still? Or, I don’t know, change my position?” My voice came out shy and unsteady.

I could see a smile curling his lips, “That is the very last thing I’d have you do. I want to see you. Is that ok?”

I nodded my reply.

He aligned his body with mine before whispering, “I’ll be gentle.”

I flinched as the pain flooded through me.

He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, “should I stop?”

“No,” I gasped. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

A look of worry flashed across his face as he paused.

“You’re tense, Angel.” He whispered, concerned. “We’ll stop until your body adjusts and relaxes.”

“Great idea.” I gasped.

I looked up to find him staring at me with awe, “I just want to look at you forever.” He mused.

I laughed underneath him.

“Am I not allowed to admire you?” Patch replied with a light chuckle. He was tracing his fingers through my hair.

“Fine. I’ll allow it for now. Just while we’re waiting for my body to adjust and relax.” I said, making fun of him.

“I’ll admit, out of all the ways I thought you’d react to our first time together, making jokes was at the bottom of my list of predictions.”

“Me too. But as it turns out, there’s plenty of material to poke fun at.”

“Angel, please leave the poking to me.” He smiled coyly.

“Only if you leave the jokes to me.” I replied. We were both laughing by this point.

We stayed like that, laughing and kissing for a while until I felt comfortable to continue. Each time the pain became too much, we would stop to rest. Patch continued to plant soft kisses all over my body while making me moan, laugh and writhe beneath him. His hands were quick and skilled on my body, light touches that made me want more and more while I pressed him to go on. I wrapped myself around his body and didn’t let him go.

When it was over, we lay side by side in each other’s arms. Moonlight streamed into the room and subtly illuminated Patch’s face, at peace and staring back at me with adoration.

“I love you,” he said, his hands in my hair. “I love you.”

I buried my face in his neck and whispered, “I love you too.”

I fell asleep in his arms.