#and how do y'all have such smooth lines with markers?

[tani-b-art]

Came across the 1947 movie poster for the musical film "Hi-De-Ho" and had to try to draw her!

[theherondaels]

Oh No (A Soy Luna Next Gen Fanfic)

Hey there! Yes, an update, get your calendar and a red marker! Okay, this and the next chapter are more filler chapters but I wanted you to see the parents reaction in all its glory.

I know y'all want Matteo’s reaction (you will get it!) but I want it to be perfect and it isn’t yet. And I just really wanted to publish another chapter in 2017 so here you go :D

Have fun reading!!!

6. Windy

“Andrés should already be here by now,” Delfi said, after having checked the time being displayed on the oven.

Pedro shrugged, grabbing the salad bowl, walking out of the kitchen. “Maybe he got held up,” he suggested once he had put down the salad bowl on the table. Delfi followed him, forks and knives in hand. “He could have written a text by now! What if something happened?” she worried, adding cutlery besides the plates. “I doubt that,” Marina finally joined her parents conversation after she had left the kitchen too, sitting down, placing the lilac coca cola glass, which despite its name was filled with water, on her right.

The thirteen- year-old girl grinned as she loaded her plate with tamales. “He probably lost track of time while talking to Stella.” Ever since Andrés had mentioned that Stella was his skating partner, Marina was under the impression that there was something going on between them. Pedro had tried to talk her out of it, with no success, but, to be fair, his son’s suspicious behaviour lately didn’t help at all.

“It doesn’t have to be that,” Delfi said, after she had filled all their salad plates. Marina frowned at her mother’s words, eyes full of skepticism. “I’m pretty sure it’s that. He’s almost living in the Roller now,” she reasoned.

The Rollerband drummer really couldn’t remember a day where he had seen Andrés between school end and dinner during the last month, which was exactly the amount of time since Stella had become a part of the Roller team. A grin made its way onto Pedro’s face. “She’s right with that,” he agreed wholeheartedly. “Oh, you too?” his wife asked.

“Mom, believe me, the signs are all there. Nothing escapes my eye,” Marina answered confidently. Again, he agreed with his daughter. Andrés’ mood had been so much better those last few weeks and the only difference was Stella.

“It seems that I don’t notice much these days,” Delfi admitted begrudgingly. Marina started to grin. “And yet you’re the one co-running a lifestyle blog.” Pedro’s grin was identical, unable to hide his amusement.

“Okay,” Delfi turned her head to Pedro, about to add something, but before she could continue they heard the front door being opened.

Marina quickly turned around, checking the time on the clock, which hang on the wall behind her.

“He’s almost an hour late. Does that mean he’s getting grounded?” she asked a tad too excited. “Not if he has a good reason,” Pedro told her. “But he always has one,” their daughter pouted, crossing her arms.

“Look who’s finally cared to join us!” Marina grinned when Andrés opened the door. “Where were you?” Delfi asked, already interrogating their son. “On my way home,” he said totally unbothered, as if he wasn’t late, taking his seat across Marina. “It’s almost 9pm,” Pedro informed him.

Andrés sighed, still the right corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Well, it wouldn’t have taken as long if the paparazzi hadn’t chased me through half the city,” he told them, fixing himself a plate of tamales.

“They did what?” Delfi’s voice was an octave higher than usual. His mother’s reaction left Andrés unfazed, taking his first bite. “Why did they chase you though?” Marina wanted to know. “What do you think I’m not worthy enough of all the paparazzi’s attention?” her brother asked once he had swallowed. “Yes,” she answered honestly. Pedro knew that Marina never understood just what the media saw in Andrés. She was also glad that they spared her most of the time.

“What happened to your hair?” Marina asked, squinting her eyes. Pedro had been too lost in his owns thoughts to have notice that, but now that she had mentioned it, he totally saw it. The usually black hair didn’t look smooth at all now, almost as if someone had ruffled it. In Marina’s opinion the answer was crystal clear. “Bet Stella did that.” Was Pedro imaging things or was Andrés trying his hardest to suppress a smile? And did his eyes twinkle?

“It was windy,” was Andrés’ explanation. He then tried to fix his hair, failing mercilessly.

“I don’t think the wind did that,” Marina voiced her suspicion, having seen the ghost of a smile on her brother’s face too. The glare Andrés sent his sister only made her feel vindicated. “And what gave wannabe Sherlock this terrific insight?”

“Be nice to your sister,” Pedro chided. It only earned him an eye-roll from his son, while Delfi sent him an approving look.

“Well, Watson,” Marina gushed. Andrés rolled his eyes again. “Your hair never looked like this after we had ran from the paparazzi,” she pointed out. “As I said, it was windy.” Andrés suddenly found his plate very interesting. “You know, for someone who’s denying it, you’re talking to me in all caps!” By the time Marina had finished her sentence, a smug grin placed on her lips, Andrés had composed himself. His expression was unreadable now, somewhere between blank and not caring, whatever happiness he had earlier gone.

Once they had all finished eating, Andrés was the first to excuse himself, Marina following soon after. “Okay, who was that and what did he to Andrés?” Delfi asked, now that both their children had left for their rooms. Pedro replayed the last few minutes in his head. Something was very off. If Andrés really had been chased by the paparazzi he would have ranted about how much he hated them and everything Rollerband related.

“Well, I have a theory,” he said, as they cleared the table together. “Oh, I already know,” Delfi mumbled. “Would it be that bad?” he questioned, noticing his wife’s sudden mood change. “Everything’s happening so fast. Where did the time go?” she sighed. “I’m sure we’re not the only parents who feel like that,” Pedro assured her.

A loud plop interrupted their talk about their son’s probably very existing love life.

Pedro quickly got his phone from the couch, Delfi stayed behind in the kitchen, hoping it was not management. He really didn’t need an last-minute meeting. Or a new deadline. He opened his phone, to his relief the message was from Nico. However, his eyebrows furrowed together once he had read what his bandmate had written him.

“Pedro, get Andrés out of the county. Now!” read the top message. Pedro frowned. Why would Nico send him this? Another message from Gastón popped up. “This is going to be so much fun!!!” Pedro’s brow creased further. “Did you know of this?!” was sent from Jazmín.

Pedro still had no clue of what was going on, he tried to scroll up and find the source of this conversation, but new messages were sent every few seconds. This time it was a message from Jim. “This is great! Yam and I always hoped this would happen!”

“After my son, nothing surprises me anymore,” Nico admitted in his text. “Is Matteo still living?” Ramiro’s message read.

Just what had Matteo to do with this?

“MOM, DAD!!!” Marina suddenly screeched. It then only took their daughter a few seconds to storm into the living room, already wearing her blue mermaid Pj’s, which matched with her iPad case. “I told you, I knew it, I was right,” Marina did a little victory dance before holding up her iPad up, the screen showing towards her dad. Pedro didn’t have to read the headline or the article, the pictures of Andrés and Stella locking lips gave him all the information he needed.

There was no doubt that this was the topic their friends went crazy over.

“Ha, I knew it,” Pedro joined his daughter’s celebration. “Knew what?” Delfi asked, exiting the kitchen after having filled the dishwater machine, dishwater towel still in hand. “That Andrés’ happy mood involves a certain skating partner.” Delfi raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that-” Marina had basically thrown the iPad into her mother’s face from all the excitement.

“Yes! Look at it! And they already have a ship name. This is the best,” Marina just wouldn’t stop talking. Pedro whistled. “How did he manage that?” he asked with a little disbelief, but still proud. “He didn’t get that from me,” the drummer clarified. As much as Delfi loved her husband, he was completely right with that. Andrés reminded her very much of her older brother, Darío, when he was younger, who had always been told he was like their father in that way. “Definitely the Alzamendi genes,” she agreed.

“This is the most exciting thing since, well, ever,” Marina exclaimed. “Too bad his door his locked,” she frowned, having hoped to get all her questions answered. Smart kid, Pedro thought. At least he was save from the waterfall of words coming out from his sister’s mouth.

Marina continued talking, he and Delfi shared a look, and after what felt like hours Marina remembered that she should go to bed.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Delfi asked, when Marina was upstairs again, hurt by their son’s secrecy. “Because you would have bombarded him with questions,” Pedro tried to justify Andrés’ action. “Okay, maybe,” she admitted. “But I thought he hated her,” Delfi couldn’t help but add.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“So, you think he avoided her because he liked her?” Pedro nodded, “Could be”. In retrospect, it would make a lot of sense. “I knew he’d come around,” he added, “Oh, did you? Why?” Delfi crossed her arms. “You did with me?” His answer sounded more like a question, a lopsided grin on his face. “You can’t compare that,” she grumbled.

“Well, he didn’t speak to her for years because she threw flowers at him. You ignored me for years because I accidentally dropped a milkshake on you. He clearly got that holding grudges thing from you.” As much as Andrés looked like him, his personality was more like Delfi. Much to Pedro’s concern the media was weirdly fascinated it. The only one who was in a similar situation was Alicia, looking like her Ámbar but with Simón’s skin tone surely drove the media crazy. The two of them were constantly featured in literally every article on celebrities and their look a like children.

“It was hot chocolate,” Delfi said with clipped lips. Pedro tilted his head to the left. “See?” he grinned. Instead of replying Delfi rolled her eyes. She then fished her phone out of her jeans pocket, wanting to know what their friends had written.

“I’m going to kill Gastón,” were the first words Delfi spoke after she had checked her phone. Pedro had to suppress a laugh. “Let me guess, he bombarded the group chat?”

“Yes,” Delfi agreed, “but not only that, he already tweeted that he wants his money from that one bet.”

“Just take solace in that Gastón is only doing that to stop himself from crying because Stella and Luis won’t happen now,” Pedro chuckled. Delfi crossed her arms, “He better be. He annoyed everyone with that for years.”

“You’re just mad that you didn’t bet right,” Pedro stated with a laugh. “But laughing with your friends about Gastón,” she chided, hitting him lightly with the dishwater towel. “He was too desperate about it,” Pedro laughed. Really, he took it to another level. “You just can’t force some things.”

“At least I’ll get some money too,” he tried to lighten his wife’s mood, laughing, “You’re unbelievable,” Delfi mouthed, unable to hide a smile. Pedro started to chuckle. “And how funny is it that the guy we’ve pitied for years in advance turns out to be our son?” It was their friends (especially Gastón’s) favourite way to get a rise out of Matteo. Delfi’s features darkened. “If Matteo tries anything, I’ll kill him,” she declared. Pedro sighed. His wife had always been very protective of their kids. Especially of Andrés because, being basically the younger version of him, the media was much more interested in him.

“Well, he hasn’t shown up at our house yet,” Pedro laughed, phone still in hand, proceeding to type exactly that into the writing box, hitting send.

“Bro, don’t jinx it,” was sent immediately from Simón. “I honestly wouldn’t put it past him,” Gastón didn’t see the need to defend his best friend, vividly remembering a certain conversation he had with Matteo about his cousin Flor.

On second thought, Pedro really wouldn’t put it past Matteo either. He double checked if front door was locked that night.

[likeadove]

(fic) we could plant a house, we could build a tree (4/?)

Summary:  Seven-year-old Rey decides it’s her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she’s alive. Modern-day AU.

Rating: M

Chapters: 1, 2 , 3

FFN  AO3

That weekend proved to be particularly stressful. 

Rey isn’t sure why keeping her action figures and Pound Puppies stored in the closet instead of on the floor by her bed is imperative to the Senator having a smooth visit, but she obeys.

Maz looks frazzled enough.

On Monday Rey waits outside the home with the other children, watching with a frown as a sleek black car pulls into the long driveway. She hasn’t forgotten what Luke said the other night, about the senator being his sister. And she wonders, if she’s Luke’s sister, if that makes her—

Rey’s suspicions are confirmed as soon as Senator Leia Organa steps out of the car. Rey recognizes Ben in the way this woman carries herself, in the way her warm brown gaze sweeps over the sight in front of her and takes note of her surroundings. In the way the corner of her mouth pulls into an almost smile. Maz walks out to greet her and the two women shake hands.

The next couple of hours are incredibly boring, considering all the hullabaloo that lead up to them. Rey isn’t overly impressed with who she suspects is Ben’s mom. All the senator does is walk around, talk, and ask questions. Rey distracts herself by staring at Organa’s bodyguard and the gun holstered to his hip. It looks kinda cool, and Rey commits herself to trying to draw him later. Ben might think it’s interesting.

She is so deep in her thoughts (markers would be fun for this project but pencils would be more precise for lines) that Senator Organa has to tap her shoulder to get her attention. She bends down so that she’s looking Rey eye-to-eye and holds out her hand, introducing herself.

Maz’s furious look from over the senator’s shoulder prompts Rey to shake it. Leia smiles. “You must be Rey. I’ve heard so much about you.” She leans in a little closer. “I hear you’re a family friend.”

Rey’s mouth drops open a little bit and suddenly she feels incredibly shy. This only makes Leia smile more fondly. “Luke showed me some of your drawings earlier today. You’re quite talented.”

Rey only remembers to say ‘thank you’ because Maz is mouthing it frantically over Leia’s shoulder.

**

Rey is spreading her Pound Puppies back out across her side of the room where they belong when she stills, mind puzzling over her odd day. If the senator is Ben’s mom, then she’s sent her son away. And maybe that means Ben was left behind just like her

**

Tuesdays are painting days.

Rey isn’t sure how she feels yet about painting. She prefers bending over a sketch pad with markers or charcoal or pencils—less messy. Besides, whatever she manages to paint always seem to pale in comparison to what Ben can do. He may denounce colors and their use, but with them he creates portraits of places Rey would love to adventure off to.

Today she settles herself in their usual corner. She pulls out the small set of paints that Maz had gotten her for Christmas the year before and waits for Ben to slide onto his stool next to her.

But he never comes, and soon Luke is clearing his throat at the front of the classroom, the other students quieting and giving him their attention. Rey bites her bottom lip and peers around, because Ben has never missed a class in the whole year that Rey has been coming here—

Something is wrong.

She shoves her paint set back into her backpack and softly exits the classroom, not noticing Luke’s eyes swivel in her direction when the door closes behind her.

She checks the kitchen-office first, because maybe he’s making a pot of coffee and lost track of the time, or maybe he has his headphones on and didn’t hear Luke tell him class was starting soon—

But he’s not there.

Feeling herself grow antsy, she marches room to room and thoroughly checks each of them. Ben isn’t in any of them, of course, and Rey realizes with a sinking feeling where he must be. She wanders to the bottom of the staircase that leads to the upper level. The level she’s never been in, has had no reason to go in.

She squares her shoulders and places a small hand on the railing, pulled forward by some feeling of protectiveness. She needs to find Ben Solo and draw him pictures of puppies swearing, or Beavis and Butthead, or—

Rey reaches the top of the stairs and looks around, taking in the small living room with its entertainment center and a TV that’s playing the local news. There are art projects everywhere, half finished sculptures and drying paintings representing a smorgasbord of Luke and Ben’s work. Before Rey can get too distracted, she hears music.

Following the music will mean finding Ben. Hitching her backpack up her shoulder, she walks through the living room and into a hallway on the right. There are three doors. She guesses one leads to Luke’s bedroom, one leads to the bathroom he must share with Ben, and the other…the other is slightly cracked with soft light shining from underneath.

She gently pushes it open and is reminded starkly of pushing open another door a year ago. Except she doesn’t find Ben flinging paint at a bedsheet, but stretched across his own bed, lying face down.

His room smells like teenage boy. She’s been around enough of them by now to recognize that particular musk. In one corner a red lava lamp sits on the floor, casting an eerie glow about the rest of the room. There’s a massive Doom poster stretching across one wall and a Stephen King novel sitting on his bedside table. A stereo sits on a bookshelf, much nicer then the paint splattered one he keeps downstairs. Melancholy music pours out of it.

She glances back to Ben. There’s a fist sized hole in the wall right next to his bedpost. And on the bedside table, next to the Stephen King novel, is a small framed photo of what must have once been a happy family. A much younger Ben smiles out at her, teeth missing, with a handsome couple standing behind him. Rey has never seen the man in the photo, but she instantly recognizes the fond smile and warm brown gaze of Senator Organa.

So he was left behind, just like her.

Rey looks back at his face and jumps, realizing that his eyes are open, watching her. He raises his head enough to mutter, “Fuck off, kid.” But there’s no real malice in his voice.

She stands still for a long moment before dropping her backpack and sitting cross-legged on the floor. She pulls out a sketchpad and a black marker, tilting the paper toward the lava lamp in order to take advantage of its light. She’s not sure how long she sits there, drawing and listening to the music.

She draws a tree. A black hulking tree with two figures sitting in its shade.

When she is done she looks back up at Ben and notices that he’s fallen asleep, his head cradled on his arm and facing her. As if he’d been watching her.

When she’s finished she silently puts her things away and stands, determined not to wake him. She also likes to just go to sleep when she’s sad, sometimes.

She places the drawing in front of the framed picture of a broken family and creeps from his room, footsteps silent.

**

A life is time, they teach you growing up The seconds ticking killed us all A million years before the fall You ride the waves and don’t ask where they go

“Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” by Primitive Radio Gods

**

A/N: Once again, thanks everyone for reading and commenting! Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on this chapter, I know it was more angst then fluff this time. Poor Ben and Rey :( This is it for ‘98. See y'all again in '99! We’ll be meeting some more of our beloved characters next time as well!

[nickki-d-k]

@tealbull81 and I like to discuss art technique, and she was asking me if I used markers or colored pencils on the unicorn pic, and complimented me on my blending. So I figured I'd share some of my blending tricks with the rest of y'all. The unicorn was done in markers and a white prismacolor pencil. When I color with markers, I tend to finger paint with it, pushing and fading colors how I want them,(yeah my fingers usually have stains on them) I've used blending pens and still do sometimes, but I prefer the finger painting method. Another trick that helps, if you don't like those unsightly marker lines, or want to smooth out colored pencil lines... a white prismacolor pencil is your best friend, but be careful sometimes a little goes a long way. Other white colored pencils might work as well, but I just prefer the prismacolor... smooth like butta.