#and she also loves her chalk pastels

[softquietsteadylove]

I just spent the last 5 hours painting and it gave me an idea. Canon movie universe, Thena using art as therapy (like we see in the film), and some cute romantic fluff

Gilgamesh snorted as he woke from his nap. He'd been perfecting his ale recipe, adapting it from the brew he had developed with Odin. Between that, and a lunch of roast ostrich leftover from Thena's last hunt, he had fallen right asleep.

He could tell she was there, but he blinked up at the ceiling. She was always telling him not to doze on the couch. He turned his head.

"Back."

He smiled reflexively, hearing the siren song of his darling Thena's voice. He moved just his eyes, but instead of seeing her in his chair, all he saw was an easel and the back of a canvas. "Can I-"

"Still."

He sighed, although he was nothing if not amused. She usually took her art therapy outside, drew with charcoal on paper weighted down by stones. When she did paint, she still preferred to set up under that old and dried tree that was hers.

He called it her tree from the moment he saw it, pale and stately against the rest of the desert.

Thena would lean every once in a while, just to check on her reference before disappearing again. He could hear the sounds of the stool under her, the swish of her dress as she moved. Her legs were crossed and he could see her bare toes bent against the rug.

Seeing Thena at feeling at home always put his heart at ease.

It seemed simple, but they had come a long way from bare stone and clay slip and a piece of driftwood as a door. They could eat together at the table, nap together in the hammock; he'd built them a water tower with his bare hands so they could have a running tap.

He would have built her a mansion if she'd asked. A temple to rival that of Babylon.

"Stop smiling."

"Wouldn't it be nicer if I was smiling?" he chuckled, letting his eyes remain closed.

"Unnatural."

He did his best not to, but smiling came naturally to him where Thena was involved. He loved that she had found an outlet for her mind in art. And he loved that she didn't need to over-explain herself to him. One or two words were all she needed, and he treasured even those.

"You were dreaming."

He tried to recall it. In the moment he woke up, he knew he had, but it was already beyond him what had been happening. Must have been pleasant enough that he felt good waking up, but not so pleasant that he wanted to go back to sleep.

He adjusted his head on the couch's throw pillow, despite the artist's strict instruction. "Aren't you supposed to angle it, or something?"

She leaned just to frown at him for moving.

"So you can see me and the canvas without having to lean?"

"Hm," she remarked, in her own way. She looked at her work in progress in question, and then at him again. "Then it wouldn't look right."

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile, going back to his previous position of facing the ceiling. He inhaled deeply. He would be in this position for a while; maybe going back to sleep wouldn't be so bad.

"I want exactly this image," the Warrior Eternal clarified with sudden firmness. "Forever."

There were plenty of images of her he wanted forever. But he wasn't the artist. He had tried here and there, but everything he did always just ended up making her laugh. And he didn't mind; if anything, he liked her laugh more than he liked whatever he had drawn or painted or sculpted. But he just wasn't meant to be the creative one.

He had managed to embroider his apron! Well, after she had drawn the little flowers on with her fingers covered in paint remnants. That was an effort of his to preserve something forever.

He heard her put her brush down. She truly was moved if she had gone to the trouble of bringing the easel and her brushes and all her jars and everything inside with her. "Done?"

"For now."

He opened his eyes again, "can I move?"

"Fine."

He grinned, turning and reaching a hand out for her. He made a grabby hand, flexing his fingers to ask her to come over to him. "Hey."

His Thena emerged from behind the canvas. She dusted the skirt of her dress off. She had gotten better, too; in the beginning she would occasionally emerge covered in charcoal or chalky dust or sometimes even paint. But now, she was as spotless as always.

"Hey," Thena purred as she laid down on the sofa with him, tucking herself into his side. She nestled her head under his chin, happily melting into him after all her hard work. "You look at peace."

"I am," he assured her, relishing in the feeling of just being near her. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm, like two trees swaying in the same wind. Thena was the artist but he thought he could be decently poetic, at times.

"And me."

He smiled against her forehead, pressing his lips there. Sometimes moments like these would make him think of the days when they would be fighting. Dodging and throwing punches and weapons. He would throw her up in the air at the enemies and catch her before she could fall.

Now they liked to cuddle on the couch in the afternoons before he started dinner.

He blinked as Thena nudged his jaw. "Your thoughts are loud."

He chuckled, which bounced her against his chest. "Sorry, just thinking this is nice."

"Hm?" she prompted him, still needing no more than a syllable.

"This," he summarized poorly. "Being at home, no Deviants, no mission. Just my wife and a couch and the sun."

Thena pulled herself to be able to look at him. There was no white in her eyes, at least not now. They were green and sparkling, as always. "Forever."

He smiled. It was hard not to take that word lightly, given the nature of their very existence. The word 'eternity' borderline meant nothing to them.

But days out here were different. Each was faced with a new set of eyes and he was grateful for every single one of them. Even the days when his Thena was far, far away from him. Even when she turned around and started swinging a spear to fight against nothing, railing about the destruction of the world and how they were all going to burn.

Forever had a different definition than it did before. He had no thoughts of missions, or Arishem, or far away galaxies. He didn't even think of Olympia. He had better things to think about, like the herb garden, and eggs, and expanding the clay oven outside the house so maybe he could bake two pies at once.

He could think of things like fixing the drip the kitchen tap had, and making sure to sweep the floor so his barefooted Goddess of War wouldn't step on any errant rocks. There was garden tending and roof checking and homemaking to be done.

"Gilgamesh."

"Huh?" he blinked. He must have been closer to sleep than he had thought, finding himself on the other end of one of Thena's more inquisitive looks.

"Sleep," she whispered, her hands touching his cheeks the way rain lovingly ran down a flower stem. "If you're so close to it."

He chuckled again; he liked it when she teased him. "Okay, okay, I'm up. You know what you want for dinner?"

Then pursed her lips in thought as he brought her hand up to kiss her palm. She smelled like paint, and summer air. "Is the ostrich gone?"

He nodded, continuing his mission to kiss more of her. He made it to her shoulder and finally past the collar of her dress before she came up with anything.

"Stew?" she asked, as if he would ever - in a million years - say no. Her hands toyed with his shirt as well. "It goes so well with pie."

He grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek. "Is this your way of asking for pie for dessert?"

She just stared at him. "Were you not thinking of expanding the oven for just that purpose?"

She knew him a little too well. But she was right, because of course she was. And he was happy to oblige her wishes. "I guess I could whip something up. What kind?"

"Any."

One word, and it was so heavy, soaked through with love and devotion. He kissed her.

And she kissed him back. Her hand found his cheek again and her eyes took on a new light. "Strawberry?"

He should have known; she did mean any, but if it was going to be any, why not her favourite? He inhaled, preparing to rise from their little nest of luxury. "Will you go and pick some?"

Of course she would. That was how things worked for them, now. There were no Deviants, no missions. There was a garden, and she would go out with a little basket and pick the berries they were growing in what shade they could provide. And she would bring them in to him, and then sit and watch him cook.

Gil didn't know what was romantic for humans, but he was pretty sure this would be considered the height of it.

Thena also inhaled, revealing her reluctance to move as well. But she left him with one last kiss before rolling off the couch. "Of course."

He followed, although he took a peek at her work in progress. It really was a perfect angle, looking exactly like what was in front of the canvas. He was sleeping. And whatever made her want to paint that so badly, it looked pretty accurate to him. He was no thing of beauty like she was, but if she wanted to paint him, then so be it.

"Dinner, Gilgamesh."

He laughed. "Coming, dear."

[unclewaynemunson]

More often than not, it doesn't work out.

Robin first learned that lesson with Vickie, when she thought she found the love of her life but ended up breaking things off because the way in which Vickie mirrored her anxiety back to her enhanced it tenfold and it turned out to be completely exhausting to keep up with that after the first wave of butterflies had died down.

After Vickie, there was Laura. Laura, with whom it seemed to work out until she told Robin that she couldn't bear keeping up with her weird, unsettling and way too vivid nightmares about Russian spies and monsters from fantasy stories every other night.

After Laura, there was Julia. Julia, who was amazing for four whole months until she told Robin with tears in her eyes that she couldn't tolerate the cheating anymore. It didn't matter how often Robin told her that sleeping with someone didn't necessarily mean sleeping with someone, that Steve was like a brother to her – and that the whole thing was utterly ridiculous in the first place because Robin was very much a lesbian. Needless to say, it didn't work out.

Then, there was Amy. Amy, who, like a cruel twist of fate, actually cheated on Robin. It was only a one-time thing, a drunken kiss during some stupid party, but it was enough to damage Robin's trust in her irreparably. So it didn't work out.

Up until then, she had chalked it up to a string of bad luck or maybe bad taste. But after Louise (who brought up the nightmares again), Valerie (who wanted some adventure in the bedroom and had to guide Robin through a panic attack filled with inexplicable flashbacks when she tried tying her to the bedframe), and Mathilde (who made a problem of Robin's regular 3am calls with Steve when neither of them could sleep), she starts to wonder if it wouldn't be more probable that it is herself who is the problem instead of this whole list of girls.

“Don't you dare say that about yourself,” says Nancy with fire in her voice when Robin finally dares to voice that thought out loud.

They're both lying down on Nancy's brand new couch, a pair of legs dangling over each side and their heads right next to each other in the middle. Except for that couch, the living room is still empty. Boxes are piled up everywhere, still waiting to be unpacked, but they can wait a little longer.

Robin is happy to have Nancy at her side again. It's been a while: college and differing career paths kept them separated through the majority of their friendship. But now Nancy has found her way back to Indiana, only half an hour away from where Robin has been living with Steve and Eddie ever since Mathilde broke up with her a few months ago.

She hasn't really been dating anyone since, and now that Nancy is also living in Indianapolis, she wonders if she'll ever feel the need to. No girl would ever be able to compare to Nancy Wheeler, after all; Robin knew that much as soon as she saw Nancy stepping out of the U-Haul wearing pastel-pink dungarees, with all grown-out curls cascading over her back and a thick layer of eyeliner around her beautiful doe eyes.

“Well, it could be true,” Robin presses on.

“No it can't!” Nancy says it in such an indignant tone that it makes Robin snort skeptically.

“I'm serious, Rob.” It sounds stern. “I know you and I know it's not true. It's not your fault.”

“You're seriously telling me I've been dating seven girls over the past seven years, and none of it worked out, and it's all because of them? All those relationships were wildly different; I'm the one consistent factor in all of them, Nance.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're the problem.” Nancy says it like it's obvious. “Maybe the problem is that you've been picking girls who all have one single thing in common, and that is that they never wanted to make the effort to really listen to you.”

"Huh." Robin closes her eyes for a second, taking her time to let those words sink in. She never thought about it that way. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Mathilde was a bitch anyway,” Nancy says matter-of-factly. “I mean, did she ever ask you to explain why you've been feeling the need to call Steve in the middle of the night lately?”

Robin shrugs. “That's a bit difficult to explain, isn't it?” she points out.

“That's what I'm saying,” says Nancy. “It's exactly why you keep picking out those kind of girls. Because if you're with someone who will actually listen to your story, you're gonna have a problem. Right?”

And, well, shit. It's not like Robin asked for a free therapy session here, but... Nancy is right. Of course she is. She always is.

Robin turns her head to the side, exchanging her view on the white ceiling for a much better one: Nancy's face, so close to her own that she can take in every little detail. The elegant slope of her nose, the wing of her eyeliner, the freckles on her cheeks, her perfect lips... Her face in this en-profile position is mesmerizing. It's not the first time that the thought comes to Robin's mind that Nancy looks like someone who should be in old paintings.

“Do you think you'll ever try to find someone who listens to you?” Nancy asks.

Robin tries to imagine that scenario; it's difficult. Not just because she doesn't really know how that would work in the first place, but mostly because she doesn't actually want to.

“Nah,” she says, trying to make it sound casual instead of really fucking sad.

“Why not?”

Because nobody can ever compare to you anyway, she thinks. But she bites her tongue and shrugs, turning her head back to the ceiling.

“That would be way too complicated, wouldn't it?”

Nancy shuffles and sighs; Robin feels her breath tickle against her cheek.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“How did you do it?” Robin asks.

Nancy's dating history is not as tumultuous as Robin's. After things ended between her and Jonathan, she had been solo for a while. Then, there had been Ben, and then Kurt, and then it had again been just Nancy for a long time.

“Did what?”

“Did you ever find a way to tell Kurt about all the shit?”

“Nope.” It doesn't exactly sound like she tried very hard.

“Why not?”

“Because I did the same thing you did,” Nancy says. “Chose the wrong people to do that with. So I didn't have to think about it.”

That doesn't feel completely fair to Robin; Nancy had been with her boyfriends longer than Robin had been able to keep even one of her girlfriends around.

“I liked Kurt, he was nice,” she remarks in an attempt to point out the difference without being too blunt about it.

Nancy sighs. “Yeah, he was nice, but he wasn't... Right. I knew that from the beginning. Same with Ben. Even with Jonathan, in a way. Or Steve, even though I was too young to realize it.”

“What do you mean, not right?”

“Boys.”

“Wha-” Robin turns her head sideways so fast that she's lucky she doesn't pull a muscle.

She sees how Nancy's eyes drop from the ceiling and slowly find their way to Robin's face.

“Took me a while to figure that one out,” she says quietly. “But yeah.”

Robin wishes they were lying in a different position; one that would have made it possible for her to take Nancy's hand and squeeze it gently, or to wrap an arm around her, or to pull her in for a hug.

“Thank you for telling me.”

A soft smile is tugging at Nancy's lips. She looks at Robin like she wants to say something, then looks back up to the ceiling again, and Robin copies her movement, biting her own tongue again in order to give Nancy the time and space she clearly needs right now.

Usually, Robin struggles with silences; she'll feel words pile up inside of her until her need to fill the empty space will take over and she'll inevitably start rambling. But this one actually feels comfortable. She wishes that they could keep lying side-by-side on this couch for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, they can't, though. There's still way too much work to be done. So Nancy hauls her to her feet and soon, the couch gets company of a coffee table, a couple of cozy armchairs, a bookcase, a TV... There are boxes filled with books, kitchen appliances, picture frames, video tapes, clothes; there are closets that need to get assembled and a heavy bedframe that they can barely get to where they need it.

It feels like it will never end, but after two long days of hauling furniture around, the apartment starts to look like a home. A home for which Robin gets a spare key. It rests cold and shiny against the palm of her hand, where Nancy has dropped it, and it makes her realize how real it is that Nancy is finally living close to her again.

Nancy's couch becomes just as much of a home for Robin as her own living room. It's where the two of them share stories, tell secrets, laugh loudly, cry ugly... It's where they watch movies until deep in the night, snuggled up to each other under a soft blanket. It's where they read books side-by-side on lazy Sunday afternoons. It's where they listen to music together and where they listen to what the other has to tell about their day or about anything that's on their minds. It's where Robin finally gets the courage to tell Nancy that nobody has ever listened to her the way Nancy does. It's where Nancy scoots closer towards her to press a kiss against her cheek, right before she finds Robin's lips and they share their first kiss, warm and homely and perfect.

More often than not, it doesn't work out. But once in a lifetime, it does. And once is exactly enough.

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Bonus Chapter 1

Ch. 28/28 | Ao3

Hello friends!

It is SO good to be back! Nessian is coming in hot, starting this week! You can find their story, the chronological continuation of Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met here. It's called To Know That I'm With You, and I can't wait to share it with you.

@popjunkie42, you are the love of my life. Can't thank you enough for taking on all my insane projects <3

Cassian was flying, his wings at a full extend with the warm sun beating down on them. It was a pleasant day, ideal for flying. The wind was entirely dead in this zone, but he’d caught enough of a draft that he was enjoying coasting, eyes closed as he let his body drift.

Cassian had set out this morning at first light from Day Court. He’d had a lovely stay at the palace right near the southernmost border, Helion so graciously putting him up in a guest suite after offering to share his bed three separate times. Some things even fifty years couldn’t change. 

Cassian had left when the sky was still mostly dark, flying as the sun rose to the east of him. He enjoyed the brisk air in his wings as the sky was painted in greys then pastels then deep oranges and purples as it fully rose above him. 

He had seen many sunrises in his long life, but something about today felt different. While the colors washed over the horizon and painted his wings, he felt good about the day ahead. 

There’d been a nagging in his chest since Rhys had returned, a restlessness that he couldn’t quite scratch out no matter what he tried. At first, he’d chalked it up to being allowed free from the bubble of Velaris after so long trapped inside. And while he’d been able to fly within the confines of his city during the last five decades, he hadn’t really been able to explore the way he was used to. 

Once Rhys and Feyre had politely but urgently excused themselves from society to complete their mating bond, Cassian had headed straight to the mountains, needing to feel the snow of Illyria on his skin, the winter winds in his lungs. It had been nice, but it hadn’t helped quell his unease. 

He’d wondered if he simply craved the presence of his family together again. And while that had also been nice, he’d still felt an odd tugging, a need to do something different. Be somewhere different. 

This trip, though not for any reason he’d have chosen for himself, had provided him with an opportunity to get out and stretch, both physically and mentally. Azriel had offered to winnow him through the courts, but Cassian was excited for the excuse to travel. It was the first time in the last few weeks the aching in his chest had subsided, the ability to breathe almost palpable within him.

Plus, Azriel had already been stretched thin, monitoring Feyre’s other sister and consulting with his network to help find the other one. Cassian knew precious little about the sisters, still. There hadn’t been much time. He wondered how like Feyre they might be, how different. Though he and his brothers weren’t blood related, they functioned as a sibling unit and had since childhood. Similarities in their preferences and nature and gestures and even speech ran deep. But when it came down to their personalities, the things that made them them, the three of them couldn’t be more different. 

Rhys had given him the briefest of rundowns in his office the day before, explaining the situation. He took a moment to show Cassian a memory of Feyre telling him about Nesta. It had been so long since his brother had regularly been in this mind, the sensation was both foreign and exhilarating. He’d missed him so much over the last half century that it felt like an open wound finally starting to smooth over and heal. 

He saw Feyre’s kind face, her brows furrowed and mind thinking. 

“Nesta is….diferent from other people.” Feyre spoke slowly, as though choosing the words carefully. “She raised us, after our mother passed. Made sure we were cared for when she was barely older than a child herself. She didn’t have the opportunity. She was always to carry on the wealth, the bloodline, and raise us, too.” 

Feyre looked a bit sad at this. “It made her hard. She took her promises seriously, perhaps too seriously. And I think she hid herself away in the process. She took every piece of her, things I barely remember from being so young, and she tucked each away in favor of everyone around her. She built a wall to protect us, to protect herself, and I think it’s been so long now that she isn’t quite sure anymore how to deconstruct it.”

It was Rhys’s voice in his mind now, though the softness of it let Cassian know he was still in the memory. Rhys was speaking to Feyre. 

“What is she protecting herself from?”

“Feeling. She feels too much, feels everything. And from the time she could talk, she was told not to. She was told it was a weakness, and she built herself entirely around that premise. Nesta doesn’t trust, not even Elain and I. She is distant and cold because she knows if she isn’t, then she can be hurt.” 

He heard Rhys hum. “Even those with a mask and walls can be hurt deeply, darling.” 

“I know that,” she murmured, her hand coming up to touch his face. “But she never let me in the way you did.” 

Cassian could hear his brother’s soft chuckle, full of affection, full of love and gratitude. It soothed something within Cassian to know that Rhys had found this. 

“Perhaps she needs to find someone as you did,” Feyre suggested. “Someone patient enough to break down those walls.”

“Or stubborn enough,” Rhys cracked back teasingly, his laugh emerging as Feyre smacked his chest. 

“Or that.” 

The memory faded, hazy and twirling, from Cassian’s view. Rhys was waiting for him with imploring eyes. 

“Don’t all siblings describe each other as difficult?” Cassian deadpanned, drawing a mirroring thwack on the shoulder from Rhys. 

“Perhaps, but I think Nesta is a different case. Feyre said she was supportive of her leaving. Part of me wonders if the glamour didn’t work and she went after her sister.” 

Cassian sat back at that. “A glamour not working on a human?”

Rhys shrugged, but Cassian had known him long enough to not buy his nonchalance. “It’s not unheard of.”

Cassian knew the entire story of Feyre and Rhys; they’d told it a few times since they’d returned home. If a forest witch strong enough to give Feyre the powers of the High Lords had put a glamour over Feyre’s family, it should have worked. Especially on a human.

Rhys leaned back onto his desk, scrubbing his hand down his face. He looked tired.

“I don’t know if it didn’t work, or if something with a greater magic than mine took her from that house. Either way, she’s gone. The other sister and all the staff seem to think both Feyre and Nesta are with their Great Aunt Ripleigh, a woman who I don’t believe exists,” he gestured out the broad windows overlooking the city. “For obvious reasons.”

Cassian snorted. “Some glamour.”

Rhys raised his brows in tired agreement. “Regardless, this means Nesta is missing. And while I have Azriel working with his spies to see what he can uncover, I’d like to have some feet on the ground, too.”

“You want me to go looking?” Cassian was mildly surprised. Azriel was usually the go to for anything dealing with humans or travel, simply because of his easy ability to travel and stay hidden. 

“I do. I think that it would be helpful to scan the area where Elain believes their aunt’s house to be. If you’re amiable. I know it’s a bit of a flight.”

Cassian didn’t think twice. “Yes. I’ll go. You have the location?” Rhys handed him a small note with rough coordinates and some scrawled directions below it. 

“Bring her back here if you find her. Feyre will be worried once she finds out.”

“She doesn’t know?” That surprised Cassian. 

“I’m getting breakfast with her soon. I wanted to tell her once I had a plan in place. She’s liable to sprout wings and take off herself if I don’t have one at the ready.” He smiled and it was filled with no annoyance whatsoever despite his statement. Only love-struck affection settled on his brother’s face. 

“Does she know what we are? What Feyre is now?”

Rhys pursed his lips as he hid a wince. “No.”

That could be an issue. 

“How do you expect me to convince a mortal to come here? She’s going to take one look at my wings and run screaming in the other direction.” He thought of the memory Rhys had shown him and huffed a laugh. “Or hit me with something.”

Rhys echoed an amused smile back. “I’ve never known you to be afraid of a challenge, Cass.” 

“It’s not every day you get to tell a mortal about the presence behind The Wall.”

Rhys extended his mind out once again, and Cassian granted him entry without thinking, the image flickering to life before his eyes. Another memory, but hazier this time, as though it had been Feyre’s as a human. The people were blurry, too blurry to see, but the words were sharp. 

I always knew you weren’t meant for this place.

The voice sounded like Feyre’s but deeper, harsher. The words, despite their denotation, didn’t sound malicious. They sounded strangely supportive. 

Rhys pulled back from his mind, the hazy images and the enchanting voice faded into nothing again. “It’s the only memory Feyre has shared with me of them from before. Perhaps you could convince her with their parting line.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. 

Rhys pushed to stand, crossing to where Cassian sat and putting a hand on his arm. “This is important to Feyre, so it’s important to me.” 

He clapped a hand over Rhys’s. “Then it is important to me, too.”

Rhys smiled down at him, his eyes looking brighter already. 

In the early hours of their return, Rhys had looked haunted, his eyes almost empty any time he began to slip away from what was happening in front of him. If he was focused on the conversation, his family, or Feyre, there was a brightness there, a joy. But the second the attention fell off him, Cassian could see his eyes glazing, hollowing. There was a look to them that Cassian recognized from warriors on the battlefield. Not quite dead, but those who may never be fully alive again either. 

It had scared him shitless.

After Rhys and Feyre had mated and married and returned, the hollow look hadn’t appeared again. The frown lines on Rhys’s face had smoothed, and he seemed more wholly there. Cassian could see the good that Feyre did for him, the true sense of safety and joy that she brought to his brother’s heart. 

Cassian’s relief had been immense. 

If he was being honest, when the wards had first been lifted and Feyre and Rhys had returned, Cassian was scared Rhys wouldn’t recover from what he’d experienced under Amarantha– would never be able to process what he’d been through. It had put a knife straight through Cassian’s heart, compounding the guilt he’d already felt being in Velaris all this time. And that came with an entirely different set of emotions, too.

They hadn’t gotten news from the outside in those fifty years, had no idea how long they’d be trapped, or what was happening with Amarantha. The city had carried on, as it always had. Self sustaining–its own bubble. And they had remained.

After the panicked message from Rhys, the resulting wards closing in, and the absolute silence that followed, Cassian had needed to grapple through many nights of complex feelings. 

Could he be angry with his brother for doing the only thing he could think of to keep them safe? For trapping them here?

Had he considered what would happen to them if he’d died there?

The thought was too macabre from every possible viewpoint to even imagine.

Rhys had done everything in his power for the purposes of keeping his family safe. It was a debt Cassian could never repay–that Rhys would never expect him to repay–which made the difficult feelings he had on it worse. 

Perhaps that was the crux of why Cassian needed to get out of Velaris and fly. Feel the wind under his vast wings and watch the sun arching across the sky from a new vantage point. That strangling feeling in his chest might very well be a need to prove he could leave now if he needed to. 

Cassian could never hold it against Rhys, would never speak to him about it either. He had his brother back, and a new sister to boot. He could not repay him, and he might never understand the full complexities of his feelings on the situation, but Cassian could do this. He could let him heal, give him just a fraction of what Rhys had given to keep them safe. 

He could run a simple errand to track down a mortal girl. 

And Cassian liked Feyre. Not just for the fact that she’d saved his brother and everyone else, but for the person she was. She was kind and smart and funny. She would make a wonderful High Lady. She didn’t take things too seriously, and her values matched Rhys’s. Her heart was in the right place. He’d yet to broach the topic of Illyria, their work in which had obviously stalled and halted while Amarantha ran amok in Prythian, but he imagined Feyre would be on his side in the initiative with full support. 

Another sore topic he probably shouldn’t think too hard on while focusing on flying. 

But Feyre was wonderful, exactly the kind of person Cassian hoped Rhys would find one day. She tested him, teased him, didn’t let him get away with his bullshit. They all adored her, and family dinners had a spark to them that filled Cassian with such joy he was fit to burst.

It was hard to imagine someone as closely related to her described as being prickly.

Nesta Archeron.

He rolled the name in his head and it stuck. 

He had to start thinking about how he might convince her to return with him. 

If he even found her. 

Even if he found the house she supposedly was staying in, who knew if Nesta would even still be there? Going back to Velaris empty-handed would be unacceptable by his own standards, even if Rhys would understand. Perhaps, if he found the location empty, he could backtrack to the Archeron manor. He had the location for that, too, and it wouldn’t take much. He’d need to be careful about his travels once he passed The Wall, though. His wings weren’t exactly subtle. 

But Cassian would leave no stone unturned, would not return without at least something to give them.

He raked a hand through his hair as he flew. In the meantime, he could enjoy the trip. He’d never take flying for granted, the gift granted to him by birthright. He didn’t care for much of his ancestry, the traditions and standards archaic and brutal, but of his wings he was proud.

Today would require a lot of them. The sun was high in the sky, and he was only just now coursing over The Middle. He couldn’t stop in Autumn or Spring safely, so he’d be flying long into the night to get to The Human Lands. He looked forward to soaring among the stars, though. Though his wings would be tired by then, and were sure to be aching and sore the next day, he would forge ahead. He hadn’t really been able to push himself or his endurance in so long–he was looking forward to the thrill of shaking off the dust and exhausting himself.

He looked down into the dense pack of fog below. He hated it here. Even before Amarantha’s rule, The Middle had been a place for people to avoid at all costs. There were monsters and creatures here beyond the comprehension of even the most ancient fae. Anyone with sense steered far away from it if they could. The looming mountaintop hovered over the clouds and mist, a sense of “other” tangible beneath him. But unless he wanted to fly over the ocean, there was no avoiding the horrid strip of land that separated the north and south of Prythian.

Suddenly, Cassian veered violently, his altitude dropping until his wings snapped out on instinct to catch himself. He righted himself quickly, pulling up and flapping his wings in suspension. There hadn’t been a draft or any wind that he’d seen. Above the heavy fog banks, the sun was warm on his wings, and the treetops pushing from the clouds below were entirely still. He didn’t feel any breeze on his skin.

He furrowed his brow.

Had he banked off a force field or some undetected magic? He ruffled his wings and searched for any errant spells, but nothing felt amiss.

Odd.

He began to fly again. But before too long, he banked hard again, his left wing tipping down just enough to drop him abruptly as though it wanted him to land. 

What the fuck?

His chest burned, that tugging ache that had been plaguing him amplifying into something near painful. Cassian tried to suppress the panic bubbling through him. 

Am I injured?

Has my body been trying to tell me all month and I’ve just been ignoring it?

Fae weren’t known to have heart afflictions, but gods knew he’d seen enough to not rule it out. Heat spread from his ribs like a pulled muscle, a strange feeling like separation catching his breath and nearly choking him. 

Fuck me. 

He needed to find somewhere to stop, somewhere to land.

How close am I to Winter? 

He scanned the horizon quickly. The snow capped mountains were distant, but he could make it if he pushed. Kallias would easily recognize him, give him a place to stay even if he had to message Rhys and ask for a few extra days. At least long enough to see a healer and assess what the fuck was happening to him. 

He pressed on, pulling hard on the muscles of his back to cover as much distance as possible in the shortest amount of time. Only a few seconds more and his body was banking hard towards the fog again. 

What in the Cauldron's name is this? 

Then Cassian heard the scream.

He felt it like a lightning strike, a current through his entire being. It split the air with a pain so vivid that it felt tangible. He could nearly taste blood in his mouth.

It was the scream of a female, and every nerve ending within him stood on end.

Some primal instinct within him overrode all else, every bit of training in him rioting at the discordant chaos suddenly filling his mind.

Protect, protect, protect.

The words slammed his chest like the beating of his heart.

Without another thought, Cassian dove, plunging through the thick clouds and headlong into the forest below. 

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 39 - indoors fashion in 1922

I wanted to give this to Mary alone since I cannot fit her and Edith’s images into one post anymore, but no, I had to put Miss Bunting somewhere. So let’s have a quick look at middle class day wear.

Miss Bunting generally seems to prefer pastel greens and blues this season; there will be a bit of a shift when she comes back in season 5 and her character goes down the drain. Here, she wears a nice green checker with a collar that’s not dramatic enough to call it a sailor collar although it’s playing at the shape. The lower sleeves seem to have a lot more volume than the upper sleeves do, which seems a little impractical for a teacher, but perhaps she rolls them up in the classroom when she’s handling chalk and so on. Honestly, I think I haven't seen sleeves that were poofy at the bottom but not at the top since the 1830s.

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

Mary, don’t look so pissy; I just quickly wanna gush about one of my favorites. This deep plum velvet is a dream, and the lower sleeves being buttoned up allows them to sit quite snugly whereas the upper sleeves look a little wavy, indicating they have more volume. Drop waist, knotted overlong necklace – that much is par for the course. But there’s this darling draping on the front of her wrap skirt, more enhanced by the lining showing some contrast. It looks so nice.

Even after she’s officially out of mourning, Mary’s wardrobe is dominated by dark, muted colors for quite a while. A pairing she seems to like is black with a beige shade, as she does in this dress. It’s not the worst in terms of 1920s sack styles, the fabric being lightweight enough that it drapes a little around her, and I like the trim applications.

Another beige-and-black one, but this is, uh. A rectangle. Why does this shirt have zero fluidity? The print is cute, and the ribbon trim framing the sleeves and the wide neckline makes me think this a descendant of the art deco blouses of the 19-teens that the younger ladies of the family wore a lot, but somehow, I don’t know if the style fits Mary. I guess it makes her look a little softer, a little more on the maternal side, but Mary is far from the maternal type, and yes, I’m saying this under a photo of her with her baby on her lap. She all but ignored the kid for the first several months of his life because one, she was depressed as all fuck, and two, she can afford it. The hat she wears to it in season 5 makes the overall impression of the outfit better imo.

Ugh. This also picks up a design worn before in a beige chiffon blouse with pretty much the exact same yoke with squiggly lines and a little extra in the middle (although this specimen here repeats the design on the drop-waistband), but this must be the ugliest version of this. I just don’t warm up to the dusty Crawley purple, appropriate half-mourning color though it may be, or stiff rectangles for that matter. The latter notion is made even stronger by the completely straight-running pin tucks down the front. The sleeves are drapey chiffon and I like them a great deal more.

Way nicer purple, going more in the direction of plum, and this shirt doesn’t have quite the same stiff look to it. The shorter sleeves make this look a little less stern, and the yoke design is lovely, crocheted I would think.

And yet more purple! This is a bit more on the dusty side of the spectrum because Mary is a Proper Lady wearing her half-mourning, but the dress has a lot more movement to it, the silk satin waving in every direction, so I’m lenient. The tie collar is back and gets a little silver brooch with a gem tacked to it.

[theramblingsofadork]

Time to ask about Rivet, Charge and Hunter!

Roots edition:

3, 9, 18 for the twins

Art-themed asks:

Pen for Hunter. To me, Hunter seems that kind of parent that would regret doing/not doing something small to his children a lot, even though he doesn't look like a person to do that. Am I right?

Charcoal for Rivet, Charge, Hunter

Pastel for Rivet and Charge

Chalk for Rivet and Charge

Red asks:

🍓 for Hunter

🍄,🎈, 🌹 for Rivet

🧣 for Charge

3. How did your OC feel the first time they left home? Why did they leave?

It was a mixed bag. Both wanted to get out and see the world, but were also nervous as the village was all they knew, and they would be leaving Hunter behind. However, it was time, and they promised to return to visit soon.

9. Did your OC receive any kind of schooling? What did they study? How were they as a student?

Hunter taught them the basics of education, such as how to read and write. He also taught them how to fight and protect the world around them.

Charge didn’t get any speciality training, but has worked tirelessly to better control his powers. (Like with the field of flowers. Trying to tune his energy output so he can mass bloom a patch of flowers rather than accidentally fry them with too much power.)

Rivet, while she learned through trial and error, never had any formal training, though she did find several mentors who helped her better understand and hone her understanding of mechanics. She did struggle at intervals though to stay focused though due to the nitty gritty details being so boring.

18. If your OC were to return to their childhood home now, what would that look like? How would they feel?

It would be a nostalgic yet painful feeling. A time when things were easier, and the world was simple and small.

They’d laugh and comment about how their beds were so tiny, and say hi to the little creatures they lived with that still inhabit the village, as well as reminisce about the good and bad times they had there.

Pen: what's one minor moment your character regrets? A small mistake, but something they "can't erase"?

I suppose so! Hunter certainly tries his best, but wasn’t the best equipped to raise two children by himself.

A small regret… Hmm… Maybe getting mad at the twins for taking something like his mug and yelling at them, only to find out they were just trying to decorate it to surprise him as a thanks for being their father. That would make him feel guilty for sure.

Charcoal: share any unique physical features about this character that are not scars or tattoos.

Not super unique, but Rivet and Charge are very fluffy, and Hunter is completely blind so his eyes are gray.

Pastels: Give me three colors that best represent your OC. Now give me three colors that your OC likes best. Is there an overlap?

Yes. The twins defining colors are some of their favorites or relate to the things they like. Only unique one would be a rainbow prism for Rivet. While she doesn’t wear a ton of colors, she does incorporate them into her creations.

Chalk: what was one activity this character enjoyed with their sibling(s) as a kid? If they don't have siblings, what they did with their neighborhood friends

They loved to play hide and seek with the creatures that lived in their village. They got good at hiding, but once Charge was ‘it’, everyone kinda gave up because he could sense their auras regardless of where they were hiding. XD

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

Hunter is a strong believer of and has a close connection with Gaia. It saved him long ago by sending Flickys and Chao to aid him when he was on the brink of death. Ever since then, he’s quietly lived in nature as it’s guardian, working to preserve the great forest as thanks.

🍄 (mushroom) - Does your character like being in nature or do they prefer the indoors? Do they have any outdoor hobbies like camping or fishing? If they prefer the indoors, why?

Rivet enjoys a healthy dose of both. She likes going on fast paced adventures with her hoverboard out in nature, but also likes working on inventions inside where no bugs can bother her.

Her upbringing is mostly responsible for this, seeing as she grew up surrounded by trees and mountains. But her love of mechanics gave her an appreciation for indoor work, as the summer outdoors does not have air conditioning. =w=

🎈 (balloon) - What does your character do at parties? Are they a wallflower or a party animal? Do they go with friends or alone?

While it doesn’t happen a lot, Rivet does enjoy the occasional party. She’ll usually go out with the girls or to a fancy shindig with Starline, chatting up the guests, and occasionally getting drunk if she’s in a particularly good mood.

🌹 (rose) - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

Rivet admires intelligence and maturity, as well those with a driving passion, like with Starline and Smithy. She also enjoys those with a bit of sass, like Cello, who isn’t afraid to be blunt despite the fact she’s so short. She also sees people who care deeply about their friends and family as important, like most of her Restoration friends.

It absolutely runs through her friend group and her love interests, and a few of the traits she herself owns.

🧣(scarf) - What comforts your oc? Is it an item? An action? A person? Whatever it is, how and why does it comfort them?

Ironically enough, Charge’s scarf is a big part of his comfort. Although he doesn’t like to admit it, he’ll often sink into it and hide his nose when he’s feeling bashful or embarrassed.

He’ll also go sit out in nature, particularly by a stream or a lake, and reconnect with the planet, which also helps comfort him.

…And food. Nothing makes him perk up faster than food.

[spine-buster]

What does Sorcha like to do in her free time? What kind of art does she make? Does she gift them to people? What is her love language? Has she had boyfriends before? Does Canada have high school reunions and if so, would she go? Was it really hard for her and victoria to be on opposite coasts? What type of date nights does she like?

She paints a lot, or works on her art/sketching, in her free time.

She paints, mostly, but she will also sketch, use chalk pastel, and work with watercolour.

She gifts pieces only to those closest to her. She's painted only for her parents, her brother, and Victoria. Otherwise, she sells!

Quality time and acts of service.

She had an Italian boyfriend when she lived in Florence, and some situationships in Toronto and Halifax, but nothing super serious.

Canada does have high school reunions but I don't think they're as popular as down in the States. If her high school had one, she would not go.

Not really, only because they're so close that their relationship can transcend any distance.

Sorcha's a big dinner-and-gallery viewing girl!

[waxwing-cedrorum]

I think one of my favorite things at the art store I work at is when old women come in who are textile artists but repeatedly tell me they aren’t artists and I get to be like:

Ma’am you are an artist, you have always been an artist, and I have seen some of the most insanely cool art that was made with quilts/costumes/embroidery/etc.

Because let me tell you. THE MINUTE YOU SAY THAT, THEIR EYES FUCKING LIGHT UP.

One memorable conversation was with a woman who came in looking for spray paint for quick coverage on some foam armor. At first we started out normal, just her asking for opinions on how to do it since she’s not used to such a shiny surface. She mentions a little bit in that she’s not an artist but that she works as a costumer at a local small theater.

I look at her straight in the eyes in slight shock because honestly the word “costumer” and “not an artist” do not compute in my brain, and tell her that she is an artist and that I think that’s an insanely cool medium to work in because I have NO CLUE how it works but I know costumes that are absolutely stunning work.

She immediately gets super excited and asks if I want to see some of her work.

OF COURSE I SAY YES

She proceeds to show me not only wonderful outfits from various productions at her local theater but also A WHOLE ASS TWIRLING BREAK AWAY TRANSFORMATION DRESS SHE MADE FOR ONE OF THEM.

I get extremely excited and ask if she has videos which she does and she shows me them while looking proud as fuck of her work. She tells me how long she’s been doing this (VERY LONG TIME) and all about various productions she’s done and how she did this or that costume.

It wasn’t that long of a conversation but it truly stuck with me.

I love this art store, I love the people that come through here more than anything else. Everyone needs a little boost in confidence once in a while and everyone is always at different steps of their artistic journey.

I will get hype for a child showing me their doodle in the large demo sketchbook we keep out. I will always say yes when anyone asks me if they can show me what they’re working on. I will enthusiastically tell you what part of your work is my fav. And yes I will most definitely tell you you’re an artist no matter where you think your skill level is at or whether or not you even believe you’re an artist.

This world is fucking bleak sometimes. Things are getting really dark. Reading the news is terrifying and I just did price changes on some items that jumped $20 in one go. You may think art isn’t important in times like these. But god if you can find the time to just pick up a pencil and give art a shot please do. I don’t care what skill level you’re at I love to see it and it’s worth making.

Make embroidery, make quilts, make silly doodles in the margins of your school notes, make costumes WITH BREAK AWAY TRANSFORMATIONS, make an OC, make paintings, use chalk, use pastels, use oils or acrylics or watercolor or gouache. Mess around and mix mediums together, do calligraphy or make pottery. Pick up a pencil and draw a shit ton of eyes because right now that’s all you feel confident in. Your art matters and I fucking love to see it no matter what it is. It makes every day brighter when people excitedly ask me if I want to see their work when trying to explain to me what they’re looking for doesn’t work.

Your art is your’s and it’s something so uniquely you that it always deserves to exist. I’m not good with words and never have been. But in dark times art is so important even if you never share it and you make it just for your own eyes. Its wonderful.

Please just keep creating and know you’re an artist no matter what level you’re at. I’m getting really sappy now and I’ll probably look at this post tomorrow wondering wtf I was doing but please know your art matters no matter what the world tries to tell you. That wonderful old lady had been making costumes for a significant amount of her life and deserves to be proud of her art just as much as you do. She didn’t even consider herself an artist and that’s a shame.

And if you aren’t sure if you’re an artist or if your art matter I’ll be here in my silly little store t-shirt standing behind the counter to tell you yes it does, and yes it is.

[fading-event-608]

Thank you for making this post, in case you are wondering why they need tents you can see this post [here]. There is also a recent article from Al-Jazeera explaining how much food costs in Gaza [here]. And there's no shortage of new of martyrs in Gaza, just yesterday there were 41 martyrs and 131 injured from the hands of Israeli aggressors.

Falastin is doing everything she can to promote this and save her family, from messaging users to doing a raffle (check it out [here]!) with a help of her friend. Her campaign was verified multiple times, on different platforms, and her family's story was even covered by Al-Jazeera ([link] to her post with video at the end).

So really there should be no reason for the last donation to be 9 hours ago. Especially when posts about her campaign still get reblogs.

I'm tagging for reach, thank you and please dm for removal.

@papenathys @slicedblackolives @nimbooz @hiveswap @paandaan 

@anneemay @tumkaafiho @balaclava-trismegistus @ripley-stark @irhabiya

@fleshdyk3 @27moremoons @northgazaupdates2 @kyra45-helping-others

@itsfookingloosah @rooh-afza @shesnake @akajustmerry @himejoshikaeya

@lonniemachin  @dykesbat   @watermotif  @hussyknee

@stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap 

@socalgal  @chilewithcarnage  @ghelgheli @sayruq @palms-upturned @spindly-counting

@readingsquotes @bellybuttonblue2 

@bees-fart-too @andiv3r-reblogging @ambidextrousarcher @fresh-bed-old-sheets 

@starless-gaze  @esperantokomencanto   @thinking-about-giraffes 

@cripsycremecuckery @mercurysreal

@blueberryblowfly @mione-g @monstermashpotato   

@theultracharmingladynoire @nibeul @wayward-bitch 

@bignightengineer @khudrang @m-an-u @rdx-dcm @sleepyhomosexual

@cuntinyew @novastarology @artoatsblog @elderscrollpdf @seeaweead

@frodig-skog @sloanevictor @swaggy-transfag @theropoda

@dodojavelpelo @somethingaboutsomethingelse

@seekerofthesightlessway @the-necrobotanist @vioisgoinginsane

@creatures-of-love @d3ad-on-arriva1

@schrodingers-slut @deadingenue @raytoroinmybackpack

@hexxeh @thegayquail @thatdiabolicalfeminist @repotting

@isuggestforcefem @backfliips @xenodile @solarpunkcast

@white-chalk-sapphomet @shamemp3 @shadow-von-vamp

@solarpunkwitchcraft @gabzilla-z @joshpeck @endorphinmachine

@sealbf @extremelycursedimages @rednines @renmorris

@pastel-cryptids @pyrrhuria @chiiri-h @pespillo @jinsouled

@linterteatime @mirrorcage @2bu @log6 @kil9

@saturngalore @laraenglish @bogor-o @left-reminders

@routeriver @bezbzn @problemnyatic @ciderjacks

@blissocean @grox @spitblaze @gender-euphowrya

@whalefill @combaticon @lytransthropy @certifiedsexed @okruee

Source

Falastin is raising money to be able to provide necessities for her family of 24. The prices in Gaza are exorbitant, and needs continue to raise as the weather gets colder. The cold means that blankets, warm clothes, and tent repairs have to be made. The cold also brings sickness, and especially so to the vulnerable young and old. Getting treatment is expensive, and that is on top of the daily expenses like food, diapers, and formula.

To help keep this family with the provisions they need, donate below. And if you can't donate now, keep Falastin and her family in mind for the next time that you have something you can spare

10$ = 106 SEK

Vetted: #282 + #957

[tonispencerart]

I was looking for more photos of people to draw, still looking at the theme of Human Form, and bored of searching Google Images for something, I turned to my Facebook people and asked them if they wouldn't mind sending me any images of themselves - the more expressive and interesting, the better! I'd already tried some drawing with my non-dominant hand and the results were fun. They were distorted for one thing, which was a big part of what I was doing at the time, so I explained that the likelihood of anyone recognising them wasn't huge... That's when an old school friend of mine told me about a whole album of photos she had from a showcase she took part in when she was taking Burlesque classes and that I could use whatever was in it if I wanted to. Burlesque is something that has always kind of fascinated me as an art form. If you know me in the real world, you'll already know about the annual Bucket List I make every New Year's Eve. Again, if you actually know me in the real world, you'll know exactly how I feel about NYE, but that's another story... It's not an actual Bucket List, it's essentially a list of random stuff that I'd quite like to do before the end of the year. I've made this list every year since 2012. On it is some really quite random stuff, usually. Learning how to hula hoop, reading a whole book series, finishing a sketchbook, figure out a fool-proof recipe for cookies that are both crunchy and chewy... and since 2013, I had Learn Burlesque on it for no other reason, really, than it looked like a fun thing to do. But I didn't know anyone involved in it - certainly not in Glasgow at the time, anyway - so it always ended up Never Done even though it's been on the list every year since then. That's the thing with the Annual Bucket List, though (I should probably come up with a new name for it, really). It doesn't matter if you only manage one thing on the list - or none of them. They're not Resolutions, just things I'd like to do at some point but there's no pressure and no target. Some things get put on the list every year and sometimes there are new things on it. Part of the fun is coming up with random stuff to do, actually. Anyway, when my friend said I could use this photo album, I had a look through it and was positively vibrating at the thought of being able to use the images for something. I could potentially do some pretty awesome stuff! So I started with her - my friend. The images shown here are actually of the same image, just at different stages. The one on the left is the drawing I made initially, using my left hand (non-dominant hand). What was interesting was that the proportions were more accurate without even trying very hard - which is something I struggle with normally with my right hand (dominant hand) - not that I was actually trying because I was aiming for distortion! it turned out better than I expected. The image on the right is the same drawing but finished with a blending stump/tortillon, and my trusty Tombow stick eraser. I love that thing. It looks like a 'clicky' pen and is great for fine detail erasing and mark making - or rather lifting out pencil marks. It also works on chalk pastel and charcoal (the powdered stuff) although a soft/putty eraser is best for that if you wanted to try it. This was also done with my non-dominant hand to add to the shaky, distorted quality I was going for in the first place. I actually really like this piece. So did my friend, actually...

[thewarriorspecial]

Greenhill High (CH3 - First Class)

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Wally West, Katma Tui

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A little something special for @hobicat!

Kyle steps up to the challenge of teaching his very first class. He gets caught ogling Guy from afar and he gets pulled deeper into the plots afoot at his new job.

Kyle takes a deep breath to steady himself and heads into his new classroom. Two steps in he realizes.

He doesn’t have his bag.

He doesn’t even have pencils.

He’s not ready.

He feels like he’s in one of those Naked In Math Class dreams as he crosses the front of the room. Twenty-five teenagers, armed to the teeth with finely honed trolling skills eye him up like a pack of piranhas. 

“Hey everyone!” He says awkwardly, standing in the front of the classroom like a lump.

No one moves. No one blinks.

“So,” Kyle says, clearing his suddenly dry throat, “I’m Mr. Rayner. I’ll, uh, write that on the board,” he stammers, looking for chalk and finding a black marker. “Right. Whiteboard. Okay.”

“No, wait!” One of the students cries out as Kyle gets the first few letters out. 

Kyle looks down at the Sharpie in his hand, “Ah, fuck! I mean shit! Oh boy.” He frantically rubs at the growing black smear with the heel of his hand. Several students burst out laughing.

The pink-haired girl appears next to him with spray-cleaner and paper towels. “Here,” she says gently, “Just don’t use that spot. It has to be re-waxed.”

“Ohmigodthankyou,” Kyle whispers. 

The young girl returns to her seat.

Kyle slowly turns to face the class. The students that were laughing have covered their mouths. Some have looked away. They all appear to be attempting to compose themselves. Kyle appreciates their restraint. 

“Man,” Kyle says, leaning on the desk, “I was gonna come in here and just jump in and like wow you guys. Like, I was gonna start with art philosophy and criticism and how not feeling it is also a valid experience.” He hangs his head and laughs at himself. “Hopefully I got my damage out of the way for the day. Alright!” Kyle walks to the front of the desk and leans back on it, shaking his shoulders out and taking a more relaxed pose. “Let’s do the normal thing and just, like, tell me your name and why you picked Art for your elective. I’m Kyle,” he says, pointing at himself, “I went to art school because I love to paint and I picked this class because I like paying my bills on time. Let’s start here with my hero,” he points to the pink-haired girl, “and we’ll work our way around, yeah?”

“So, everybody knows I’m Sarah!” The pink-haired girl says excitedly to the whole class. Everyone responds warmly with smiles and a playful drone of ‘Hi Sarah’. “So, I draw all the time. I love pencil the most and I love trees and birds but like, I love anime too, though! Oh and I do photography sometimes! I’m just all about it, yeah.”

“That’s awesome, Sarah. I’m really excited to have you. Go ahead,” Kyle says and points to the blonde girl next to her.

“I’m Heather,” the petite, pale girl with freckles says, tucking one side of her perfectly smooth long bob behind her ear without looking up. “Um, Sarah really likes my flowers. Um, I paint but like it’s just the cheap dollar store stuff like, I’m not—“

“You are!” Sarah insists.

“I am not!”

“You so are!”

“Ok, like I’m a painter, I guess. So yeah I wanna be like, better,” Heather finishes, still looking down but smiling.

“That’s great, Heather. You know I love painting, too. We’re gonna have fun. Alright, next?”

The girl next to Heather is in complete contrast. Heather is wearing pastel clothes in fitted, classic cuts with chunky, white-rimmed sunglasses resting on top of her platinum blonde hair. She sits perfectly straight, hands in her lap and ankles crossed. 

The next girl sits slid halfway down her chair with one elbow slung across the back. All of the tears in her black clothes are held together with rows of safety pins. Dozens of patches adorn her jeans and hoodie. Her dark hair is in elaborate patterns of braids with some of them dyed a deep red. When she smiles, her canines are pronounced and sharp. “Everybody just calls me Ray cuz they can’t spell my name. Normally, I’m in music or with my band doing drums however,” she slides out from the table, showing off the calf-high cast full of drawings and signatures, “I broke my foot doing a really cool jump on my skateboard soooo, I’m taking a little break.”

“That’s awesome! You’re in a band?” Kyle asks.

“Yup. Thrash. Speed metal. That kinda thing.”

“She’s literally the best,” says Sarah.

“Soy la mera mera,” Ray laughs, pointing both of her thumbs at herself. 

“Muy bueno! We’ll make sure to incorporate music into our lessons. Okay, next?” Kyle continues around the room getting answers that mostly fit the typical art lover molds. A few more students are trying something new. 

The round-robin introductions arrive at a tall, lanky boy with strawberry blonde hair sequestered in the back corner with an empty chair between himself and the next student on either side of the table. Kyle can’t see the boy’s face because he’s holding a large ice pack over his eye.

“I’m Dave. This is the only elective that still had seats, so,” he says quietly with a shrug. 

“That’s cool, man. You don’t have to be good at art to appreciate and you don’t even have to like art to do well in my class,” Kyle says and that makes Dave perk up. “All I ask is that you use what I teach you to tell me why you think something sucks and that’s good enough for me.”

“I could tell you that your favorite painting sucks and you’d still pass me?” David asks.

“You can tell me my paintings suck. As long as you show me you understand the concepts I’m teaching you can tell me: Hey, Mr. Rayner, you’re paintings are very colorful and realistic but they don’t say anything. I don’t feel anything when I look at them. And then use what I taught you to explain why and, yeah, you can tell me my paintings suck and get an A.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Kyle smiles to himself. He couldn’t have asked for a more interesting group of students. His head is already buzzing with new directions he wants to take the next days’ lessons. 

He finishes letting the students introduce themselves, and with the little bit of time he has leftover he lets them vote on which medium they want to start learning with. Paint wins out by a huge margin. He decides they’ll start monochrome, looking at line and value. He already has several famous paintings in mind to discuss at the end. 

——

Kyle finds himself unoccupied during his break period. Without any papers to grade and his lesson plan mapped out, he finds himself lamenting this whole adjunct/part-time thing. He really, really regrets forgetting his bag because now he has nothing to draw with. 

Kyle leans back in his desk chair and resumes trying to balance a pencil on his forehead. How did he keep himself busy back in high school? He can’t even remember a time when he didn’t draw every minute he was awake. 

He remembers going to the movies and haunting local diners late into the evening. He has fond memories of himself and his friends packing into the arcade. He remembers cutthroat Dance Dance Revolution competitions. Anytime he wasn’t drawing he had a pack of friends to pass the time with. They shared earbuds and mixtapes. They laid on the ground and watched clouds go overhead. 

It’s a gorgeous day outside and the windows of Kyle’s room give a beautiful view of the sky and part of the nearby houses. The stadium sale seat that surround the football field cut a sharp, metallic line just below the homes on the tallest hills. 

The sharp screech of a whistle draws Kyle’s attention. Either gym class or one of the teams is out there. Kyle walks to the window wondering what the school’s colors even are. 

A quick glance down and Kyle sees shiny helmets shimmering above maroon and silver football uniforms. He feels his cheeks flush as he can’t help but scan the field hopefully for that trademark flash of red hair. 

Kyle spots the only person not in a football uniform and he hears the distinct timbre of Coach Gardner’s voice. He’s too far away to make out what he shouting even at the extreme volume. 

Guy’s demonstrating some kind of running drill involving cones and turns and just entirely too many steps in Kyle’s opinion. Guy takes off sprinting in perfect form, big chest bouncing and back flexing under his tight, polo with every step. 

Kyle’s hands grip the windowsill and his throat goes painfully dry. 

When Guy stops and turns, the long, long line of his legs bunches and flexes. The fact that he’s got super-tight Underarmor covering every inch of skin from neck to ankle does nothing to hide his statuesque figure. When he finishes his demonstration, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. 

Now Kyle really, really regrets forgetting his sketchbook. 

“Do I really want to throw this job away to get tangled up with another teacher?” Kyle thinks. In his mind, he imagines cartoon devil and angel versions of himself perching on his shoulders and arguing about it.

“Look at him. He has abs. He has the things!” Devil Kyle sighs, gesturing at his hips.

“We have a job.” Kyle thinks.

“Look at him! Fuck this job,” says Devil Kyle. And he has a point.

Kyle turns to look at Angel Kyle who is adjusting himself uncomfortably under his robes.

“It’s been two years. We’re not Kardashians; we don’t have to be sloppy about it.”

“Really?!” Kyle thinks.

“I’m just saying, we’re all adults here. Coworkers have sex all the time. We weren’t planning on doing it at school,” says Angel Kyle, quite reasonably. After a pause he asks, just to clarify, “Were we?’ He almost sounds hopeful.

Kyle shakes his head to pull himself out of his daydream. There’s more unintelligible shouting and then he hears Guy laugh. It is a gorgeous, honest sound and Kyle feels himself sigh. He wants to press in close and fell that laugh rumble through his own body. He wants to reach his hands under that tight, sweaty shirt. He wants—

“I see you like the redheads.” 

Kyle nearly jumps out of his skin. He sees Jordan standing not two feet away and wonders how long he’s been there. 

Jordan raises the steaming mug he’s holding to his lips as he raises an eyebrow. He glances down at a small, tan bird with a red head sitting on the outside windowsill and then back up at Kyle. He smirks.

“Uh?” Kyle grunts. He looks at the little bird. It looks up and cheeps at him.

“House finch. Very pretty song.”

“Oh. You’re a birdwatcher.”

“I watch everything,” the English teacher says, bouncing the tea bag in his mug. “Which reminds me, there’s this little café some of the staff likes to visit. They have a projector and we watch bad movies. Very MST3000. Guy will be there.” 

Jordan lifts the teabag out of the hot water, letting it drip for a moment. The he places it in his mouth, sucking the tea out of it. He winds the string around his finger. He licks the bead of warm liquid off of his top lip very slowly. He keeps his eyes locked on Kyle the whole time, looking immeasurably pleased with himself. “You should come.”

“Uh. Okay. Cool.” Kyle manages to squeeze the words out. He knows his eyes helplessly followed the path of Jordan’s tongue from one corner of his mouth to the other. He knows Jordan watched, unblinking.

Jordan tosses head, flinging his bangs out of hi face, “See you there.” He turns to stride elegantly out of the room. He makes it two steps before he slams his knee off of a table leg and hisses.

Before Kyle can ask if he’s okay he hears Jordan mutter, “Fucking kill myself,” as he stomps out of the room, licking spilled tea off of his wrist. 

The little bird in the window sings its high, lilting song. It sounds like a schoolgirl’s giggle.

“What. The fuuuck?” Kyle whispers to himself.

——

Guy walks towards a 20 year old, dented Dodge Neon. Most people identify it because the driver’s side door is red and the rest of the vehicle is blue, but Guy wasn’t gifted with color vision. The thing’s got so much damage it looks like a trash can that’s been tossed in a rainstorm a hundred times. 

“Ay, Oscar da Grouch,” Guy hollers, rapping his knuckles on Hal’s car window. 

Hal is laid back in the front seat with his jacket over his face. The collection of fast food bags, paperback books, and spare clothing doesn’t help the comparison. “Go. Away.” 

“Fine. Get your own snacks.”

“Wait,” Hal shouts, sitting up and pulling the jacket off of his head. He spies Fruit Roll Ups and Flaming Hot Cheetos in Guy’s hands. He can’t let Mr. Piggy abscond with the best snacks the gas station across the street can offer.

Hal pulls the door handle to its limit and kicks it several times to get it to creak open. After he gets out, he forces it shut with a groan and crunch. “Hey!” He shouts again.

Guy tosses a Fruit Roll Up over his shoulder, smacking Hal directly between the eyes. 

“Uncivilized wretch.”

“Weird way’a sayin’ thank you,” Guy says over his shoulder. He slows down a little so Hal can catch up. They head towards their bench that sits near the school entrance.

Hal sits crosslegged on the bench, gathering the offered packages of snacks in his lap like a basket. 

“You done bein’ mad at me now?”

“I accept your generous peace offering,” Hal says, looking at Guy sideways and through the curtain of his bangs. “I thought you enjoyed our jesting.”

“Well, Lancelot, the jesting used to come with a lot more kissing. Now it just feels like jousting.” Guy pushes his sunglasses onto his head and looks over at Hal.

“Oh,” Hal says softly. He turns to fully look at Guy for a long moment, immediately seeing the confused scrunch of his eyebrows and the sad, sideways pull on his lips. Hal’s heart still skips a little at Guy’s half-pout. It’s still cute. He asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nah, I just…” Guy trails off, shoving a few Cheetos in his mouth as he thinks it over. “I just don’t know how to tell when you’re playin’ and when I’m really pissin’ you off anymore. I don’t wanna lose you,” he says, meeting Hal’s eyes again.

Hal looks away. 

Guy puts his hand on Hal’s shoulder, “We’re cool, right?”

Hal takes a deep breath, swallows hard before he turns back. “We’re cool,” he says, mostly honest. He wants to be. He wants things to be like they were when they rode their bikes to the park and played D&D on the weekends. Before his car broke down and he noticed all the freckles on the back of Guy’s hands as he changed the serpentine belt. Before that goddamn French project that paired them up alone in the back of the library. 

“You’re a tough nut to crack sometimes, Hal.”

“Je peux être en peu difficile,” Hal offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin. 

“Tu pouvez être un peu belliqueux,” Guy’s thick American accent lopes heavily on the consonants, thumping and clumsy compared to Hal’s near perfect, nasal vowels. He pronounces the last word less like belliqueux and more like belle à cou but Hal holds back the vampire joke. 

“Tout est jutse dans l’amour et la guerre,” Hal plays on the word Guy meant to pronounce instead. He offers a rare, warm smile as well.

“Alright, we have our little signal now. I can live with that.” Guy can’t help but smile back. 

“Will you come to Radu’s this weekend?” 

Guy pauses to think about his practice schedule, “Probably won’t be till like, six?”

“That’s perfect.” 

“Alright man. Here,” Guy offers the rest of the Cheetos to Hal, remembering they’re his favorite.  “See you Saturday.”

“Later.” 

Hal’s glad they had this talk. He’s looking forward to his setting his plan in motion. He wants to see his best friend happy.

Even if his heart still aches a little.

A/N:

I'm new at Spanish and I haven't actually used French since college. Don't judge me! :'<

Also, sorry for the slow-burn I've accidentally created. So many ideas! So many!

[rotyolk]

pastel girl challenge haha im a few months late! also it's tradish thats why it's so wonky!!

anyway demon pwincess befwends dark wildlife

[sinnohsiblings]

"Oh look at that! We're the same age give or take an eon or two! No wonder we seem to get along well." She smiled though part of her couldn't help the nagging feeling that what should have been many more years were stolen from him.

"Yellow hmm? I hear it's the color of joy, creativity, and energy. My father likes to say its why the most creative of gods have yellow." She smiled listening to him speak, "I think it's a lovely color, and suits you very well with how positive your energy is."

"And I can agree it's easier to get things done in the quiet of the night, especially for us ghost types." She nodded before chuckling, "The only downside really does seem to be how it can really alter one's sleep schedule though.'

"You don't eat outside of recreationally?" she said with a furrowed brow tilting her head, "Does he not care about the benefits of those extra nutrients? I also don't see why he should be against participating in those activities I mean...we are all Pokemon after all, and doing those things is good for us, at least enriching to our lives more than sitting in a bubble." She frowned. She knew she didn't like his dad from when she and Singularity first met but man this guy really sounded like he sucked to live with.

She smirked at his question, "Cheating? Well, we are gods of mischief so I think it's fine. You already know my age, but as for my favorite color well... it's pink. Specifically pastel pinks, I've always liked how light and calming it was on the eyes, especially on the flowers in the palace. I was always so jealous that I wasn't born with a pinker shade of red for my banding. Calama always said I should be grateful to have a redder belly...but it's so common and dull I feel."

"Much like you, I also find myself living a more nocturnal life but I've managed to worm my sleep cycle to at least include the sunset and the sunrise because I like to watch them. While it's easier to work at night, most flowers don't look as beautiful as they do in the daytime.

"As for food. Hmm, I guess I'd say I prefer spicy and savory foods which is why one of my favorite treats is dried meats or things that use a lot of cinnamon. I'd chalk it up to my naughty nature, but if there is a flavor I cannot stand it's bitter!" She said making a disgusted face.

"But moving on to my siblings...hmmm. I guess Parisa and I are closer just because we are closer in age so we played a lot more with each other, especially because we liked girly things....but honestly I do deeply care for and favor my big brother. Dagon's been there for me in many ways that I don't think I'd even have the chance to repay given our different lifestyles. I worry a lot about him and when he's been doing to himself. He says he's fine but I can taste the lie in the air." She paused realizing she was rambling, "But getting off the negative thoughts, Dagon got a dry sense of humor that's never failed to get a chuckle out of me so that's always a good thing about him!"

"As for my daily activities well in terms of my official job I purify any reality rifts that occasionally occur and could corrupt the universe if left unattended, but those are few and far between and truly only occur if something as powerful as creation gods are sparring, which is honestly rarely a case for us. I always do at least 3 patrols of my territorial space in the void to make sure no out-of-world intruders are looking to invade and prevent any of our nimrods from accidentally leaving and becoming problems in another universe. Once that is all taken care of I like to work on flower gardens both in my territory of the void and within our palace on the material world. Gardening is a hobby that helps me feel close to my mother, we used to do it together before she had to leave. And when I'm not doing that I try and spend time with my friend Yvette, Diva, and Zeph-ah....but I'm dribbling on!" She said with a bid of an avoidant gesture to push her previous thought out of her mind.

When he asked about her favorite thing about herself she paused, now that was a hard question to answer. "Well...I think my favorite thing about myself is how hard-working I am. I've done a lot to work on myself and grow myself into someone who's far less angry and a lot more patient with others. I think me having the will to change is a good thing to have. Unless you wanted a physical feature of mine. If so I think it would be my moles, probably because they are often called beauty spots but I always felt they flattered my features with where they formed. Though, I'm a little...flip-floppy on how much I like my nose. Sometimes I feel it's too sharp and prominent, especially with how big it is, I think I'd like it to be a bit smaller kind of like Peri's."

"But enough about me!" She smiled, "I'm gonna take a page out of your book and ask you to answer those same questions you asked me about yourself, and let's add on If you would change your form to be any Pokemon in the world what would you turn into and why? What's something you absolutely hate to do? And...hmm...what are your thoughts about how that interview with my father went?"

Continuation of this | @singularity-and-co "It's a beautiful place regardless. Be it natural or be it ever so slightly altered. I know how difficult the world was for our first Xerneas to flourish with such wonderful plants to support the life our Mew was forming. it's nice to know you're able to enjoy such tranquil places from time to time." She smiled taking in his flushed features. She chuckled to herself seeing how he reacted to the same level of compliments he'd been giving. Seems he was used to giving and not receiving and she didn't mind being one of the few out there to give him the same sweet comments in return. She lightly drew circles into the back on his hand with her thumb as she listened to him speak. When he had finished she looked up at him with a warm glint to her eyes. "Well as much as I appreciate that you want this to go right for my sake, just remember how you feel about tonight is also just as important. My father wouldn't have approved of you asking me out if he didn't see the chance it would go well. So don't stress yourself out for me, ok?" She said with a playful tilt of her head. "But if you do wish to play a game of twenty questions, I can start. hmmmmmmm." She hummed to herself as she thought for a moment, "Ah here's a couple simple ones. How old are you? What's your favorite color? Are you a morning person or more nocturnal? and which flavor do you prefer, sweet, spicy, dry, sour, bitter or savory?"

[carlthebigman]

Hyperfixated on Krusielle les goo:

Susie grows up to become a really epic artist, as when she grows up she is able to explore interests more. tbh Kris and Noelle are also artists but they are more into digital art, while Susie loves traditional art (Her favorite mediums are oil and chalk pastels). They bond over their drawings.

Kris is the shortest of all three of them.

I'd like to think that eventually they would find out about Kris's soul problems, though it would be awhile since it kinda scares them. In the end Noelle and Susie try their best to be supportive and helpful for Kris, even if the best they can do is listen and give them hugs.

Kris and Susie have lots of banter, and Noelle just laughs along.

Noelle loses aux chord privileges when it gets close to December.

Kris and Noelle often recount their childhood memories together, and laugh at how weird and silly they both were.

I def got more but it's almost 2 am for me so yeah that's enough

[dreamsofminnie]

“Ethereal Paintings”

The 5 pillars of deprivation {Y/N’s}

Y/N-> Fine arts(General) major, loves using her hands to create works of art in any and ALL physical forms. Hand cramps don’t stop her from chasing her art high; usually doesn't get art block. She gets lots of commissions with her art so she is thriving very well. She hates A.I/[redacted] art, for obvious reasons and because of her art has been recently fed into the program and being used. Pecae is her artist name.

Yoimiya-> Fine arts(Printmaking) major, loves to design. Ayaka gifted her a print-making shop and that day forth was Yoi’s undying love for Aya. Her print shop is where she love to hang out and basically where she lives. Her prints get made and sold and she even sells smaller stamps. She still helps out at her dad’s firework shop whenever she isn’t buried in her own shop. Y/N’s best friend since their elementary years.

Albedo-> Humanities major and Fine art(Drawing) major, usually listed under the Humanities and Art. He focuses on oil pastel and chalk art. His works are shown on the concrete to the art building. Is amazing at anatomy drawings but only lets his friends see and use them as references. Became friends with Y/N through an anatomy class in which she was struggling.

Ayaka-> Fine arts major(Watercolor) with a minor in dance. Her specialty is watercolor since she works well with the flow of the paint. A lot of her works are made upon fan’s which Ayato made a small business on for her. She also pleaded Ayato to open up a print shop for Yoimiya where she could work with the best quality. Met Y/N through a shared watercolor class which Akaya learned great techniques from her.

Layla-> Astronomy major who is forced to take 5 classes and additional winter classes. Her weekdays are jammed packed with studies and experiments but at least she is efficient enough to keep her weekends open for her friends. She and Y/n became friends through a forced physics class that you took. (Layla carried you throughout that terrible class)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Wanted to put a digital artist but didnt know who would fit in tht role

Y/n & Yoimiya & Ayaka & Layla share a dorm; which Albedo likes to crash when his roommates are unbearable. /sometimes brings Tighnari. (Nari begs Bedo to take him with him away from Haitham and Kaveh)

[daydreambelievcr]

❀ *◦ jo serim ( onda ). demi woman. she/they. panromantic demisexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that sun-young “valeria / valerie” graves-seong? i think that the twenty-seven year old from aurora, west virgina works as an aerialist at the carnival of time and daycare worker at the moon & sun daycare, but outside of that people describe them as bright summer days, velvet theater curtains, tangles of wildflowers, sidewalk chalk art, and pastel electric guitars. i hear they are guarded & withdrawn, but they are also known to be optimistic & generous. consider giving them a visit at their home in the marionette and get to know why they’re called the songbird.

-a sweetie that just wants to recover her lost childhood -endlessly optimistic, always smiling -was a circus performer in her youth -had a career in child acting for ten years under the stage name margo sutton -will go quiet if you insult her, but won’t hesitate to defend the people she loves -a believer in giving people the benefit of the doubt -but give her a reason to not trust you, and she won’t look back -she has a big heart, but doesn’t want to be taken advantage of again

pinterest board / playlist

flowers, i remember fields of flowers: lore.

tw: mentions of death, abuse, grooming, and sexual assault

Childhood:

Valerie doesn’t remember a great deal about her biological parents, having lost them at such a young age. Regardless, she still considers her childhood a largely happy one, and one that instilled in her a passion for creativity, performance, and whimsy.

During her time traveling with her family and performing as carneys, she trained in gymnastics and dance, performing as a trapeze artist and silk aerialist. She also discovered her love for music when she was still young, learning to play the guitar and ukulele. 

At the age of nine, Valerie was scouted by a modeling agent at one of her family’s shows. Soon, she was offered the chance to fly out to LA for auditions, and the prospect of performing in a more mainstream manner and making some money to help out her siblings proved enticing to the young girl, so she jumped at the opportunity.

Adolescence:

Her journey into child acting was initially exciting, and after years of performing alongside her found family, she was accustomed to the demands of show business. Her professionalism and “maturity for her age” was something that made her both an asset to the projects she worked on, but also the target of a powerful person that she worked under.

At the age of thirteen, Valerie began to be mentally and verbally abused by a producer, which continued for two years before the abuse turned sexual in nature. When Valerie finally mustered the courage to confide in someone about the abuse when she was eighteen, she was swiftly intimidated into silence and blackballed in the industry.

Though she attempted to keep her career going with her team, in two years, she grew largely disheartened with the industry, no longer enchanted by the idea of working on sets and missing the simplicity of her childhood.

Becoming a has-been by the age of twenty was certainly a shock to Valerie, but she had no desire to continue her professional acting pursuits in Hollywood.  

Present Day:

After deciding to leave her silver screen dreams behind and start anew, Valerie sought the comfort of her family, relocating to Anchorage to be near them in her twenties.

Currently, she works as an aerialist at the local carnival, happy to be reconnecting with her family, making friends, and getting back to the root of what she loved so much about performing to begin with.

Nowadays, she tends to avoid the topic of her former career in general, choosing instead to focus on the future and what lies ahead for her.

She would love to become an advocate for the protection of children somehow, but without a formal education under her belt, she has no idea where to start. In the meantime, she treasures her job at the daycare, happy to be a part of the childhoods of the children under her care.

soft beneath my heels, walking in the sun: stats.

General Info: Full Name: Sun-young “Valeria / Valerie” Danielle Graves-Seong. Nicknames: Valerie, Val, V, Sunny, Ria. Age: 26. Date of Birth: February 20th, 1998. Zodiac Sign: Pisces. Gender: Demi woman. Pronouns: she/they. Sexual Orientation: Demisexual. Romantic Orientation: Panromantic. Relationship Status: Taken, crushing on Cha Seojun.  Alignment: Neutral Good. MBTI: ENFP, the Campaigner.

Appearance: Faceclaim: Jo Serim ( Onda ). Height: 5′5. Eye Color: Brown. Hair Color: Brown naturally, but she regularly dyes it platinum blonde. She used to have bangs in her childhood/adolescence, but she currently wears it all one length. Tattoos: A watercolor dandelion on her right shoulder blade. Piercings: A single earlobe piercing on each ear.

Background: Education: Homeschooled throughout her life, finished high school at the age of seventeen. Occupation: Aerialist at the Carnival of Time and Daycare Worker at the Moon & Sun Daycare. Residence: The Marionette. Class: Middle ( comfortable, has plenty in savings from her acting days ). Ethnicity: South Korean. Language(s) Spoken: English / Korean / Spanish.

Identity: Label: the songbird. Positive Traits: kind-hearted, optimistic, empathetic, generous, enthusiastic. Negative Traits: absent-minded, withdrawn, guarded, nonconfrontational, emotional. Quirks/Habits: her eyes are very expressive, goes quiet/retreats into herself when she’s upset. Love Language: Physical touch and quality time. Hobbies: playing the guitar/ukulele, singing, baking. Likes: statement earrings, sugar cookies, knit cardigans, cowboy boots, homemade ceramics. Dislikes: people that make her feel dumb, feeling pressured to do things, being infantilized. Fears: revisiting her traumas, letting her past change who she is, losing her softness.

[cognitosclowns]

What hobbies do you think the gang has? Thanks so much, I've been loving your blog!!!

OOOOOOOH <3 I LIKE THIS VERY MUCHLY, TYSM!!!

all sfw!! tw for some existential concepts w/ myc, and alcohol

OKAY IM GONNA STICK TO LIKE,, 1-2 HOBBIES PER EACH OF EM CAUSE OTHERWISE ITS GONNA TAKE ALL DAY - IF YALL WANT MORE FEEL FREE TO SHOOT AN ASK ABOUT A SPECIFIC BASTARD OKIE LETS GOOOO

Reagan

OH inadvertently,, its drawing??

Like she,, sketches designs out constantly, and she got really good at proportions and anatomy while working out AB’s design, etc!! Even when she was younger, Rand and Tamiko would just,, shove her some pencils and paper to keep her outta the way. It was never a conscious hobby but,, its the closest she’s got tbh!!

SO YEA SHE DRAWS!! not like,, actively, but sometimes when she just needs to Not Think for a little while?? she just starts absentmindedly scribbling out designs in her notebook!!

everythings really geometric!! even when hes working with,, organic shapes like flowers and faces, its all very tight thin lines, few curves if any. Its this really beautiful, distinct style!!

She loves the texture of pastels too,, and chalk,, i could totally see her having a big chalkboard in her lab that she draws on when shes trying to think through a problem.

Brett

OH exercise!! Running specifically is his jam. Just,, waking up super early when its just sunrise, feeling the temperature increase as he runs? He truly is a golden retriever man smdnsdmsnd

YKNOW WHAT??? he’s such a boy scout. he absolutely camps and hikes whenever he has the chance. It’s so peaceful oml <3333 he always brings a little jar (like,, an ounce? 2 ounces?) to put cool stuff he finds inside!!! For the memories, yk?

ON THE SAME NOTE, SCRAPBOOKING <33333 and journaling but mostly scrapbooking. He takes so many photos and notes and keeps so many souvenirs that it,, just,, kinda came naturally to him?

It’s also such a nice thing for when times are hard. It’s nice to look back on the good (and bad) times to see the ebb and flow!! Helps remind him that everything’s gonna turn out well on the end <33333

OH OH OH AND BAKING. I think I brought this one up before but,, come onnnn <3333 he absolutely bakes in his free time. 

Its so soothing,,,,,, and he gets food at the end. The only real times he got to see his family was during holidays and holidays means FOOD which means baking which means,,, a chance to make some really good food and impress them :’)

Gigi

I feel like she writes articles in her spare time. It's implied she used to be a journalist and,, she really misses it? Like she was BUILT for journalism lmao, a veritable Hildy Johnson.

She misses the rush of on-the-ground journalism.

scribbling out the start of her article in shorthand on her arm? Bribing cab drivers to speed so that she can get to the scene before anybody else? getting phone calls at 2 am with tips from a friend of a friend of a friend?

Especially since rn she's basically stuck behind a desk, supervising other people doing the fun stuff? It feels like a waste.

SO YEAH SHE ABSOLUTELY WRITES ARTICLES UNDER AN INDEPENDENT NAME. VERY FUN SHE LOVES

OH AND EQUESTRIANISM. We see in her SwipeRight profile that she has a tiger and,,,, I HC that she loves animals.

She never did it,, competitively?? She just loves horsies and their weird little faces and honking their snouts,, and taking care of em. It's so soothing to get away from the city and visit her horse <3

SHE'S THIS MASSIVE CLYDESDALE <333 her name is Maple bc she tossed Gigi into a Maple Tree the first time she rode her MSNDMSNDMSNDMSNDS

Gigi chipped her tooth and immediately decided she was the perfect horse fo rher and VOILA, 15 YEARS LATER MAPLE IS STILL HER BABY

 <3333 doesn't matter how big she gets, she's always gonna be Gigi's baby

Glenn

BOXINGGGGG <3333 not only bc the mental image of this man boxing sends me into cardiac arrest awooga AWOOGA,,,

he picked it up through High School - he was already pretty bulky form helping out on his family's farm and he just got bigger as he started boxing!!!

HE ALSO REALLY LOVES WRESTLING,, ITS JUST A BIT HARDER NOW BC OF HIS SPINE.

he uHe has trouble w/ a lot of exercises!! His spine and legs got seriously fucked during his surgeries so running isn't an option (lmao he always hated running so,,, yknow what he doesn't miss it that much-)

so...... he usually sticks to boxing, per his doctors request 🙄🙄🙄

BEFORE his surgery, he wouldn't wear gloves or wraps but,,, because he now has talons to deal with, he needs that buffer to make sure he doesn't gouge his own hand (although,, smdns on more than one occasion he has forgotten. Quite a few scars on his palm)

If he's had a particularly bad day, you'll most likely find him in one of the lower-level training rooms, absolutely massacring a punching bag!

Little addition at the end?? He hunts, and his shot would give some of Cognito's snipers a run for their money.

Andre

DND IM NOT ELABORATING ITS DND. 'high stakes elder scrolls' come on this man plays dnd and he has done since highschool. He got introduced to it by smb in his friend group

ACTUALLY I AM ELABORATING, BECAUSE HE TOTALLY DM'S. He loves the storytelling element to it - he's too insecure about his writing to actually,, yknow,, write, so DND gives him a place to put out all those ideas?

(if he does play its 100% gonna be an artificer or wizard.)

also,, rock climbing?? It was never explicitly said but considering he did parkour w/ Grassy Noel I GET THE VIBE HE’D LOVE ROCK CLIMBING?? <33333 oh to go rock climbing w/ Andre Lee in some obscure little corner of Virginia oughe <333

VERY GOOD MIXOLOGIST. He’s gonna do tricks with the bottles. and drop em all.

ITS FUN LEARNING NEW DRINKS THO AND MAKING UP HIS OWN. He feels like an alchemist ehehe >:) plus its way more low-risk than concocting diseases or flesh-eating goo.

Myc

He seems to be so disconnected from everything? Very apathetic overall? 

SO not really a traditional hobby, but people watching!! At first he did it bc,, he wasn't entirely sure what the best method was to approach. And also cause humans are weird gross little things xsmnds

BUT YEA ITS JUST BECOME A MUCH NEEDED HOBBY?? Once a week he just,, steals a jet, picks a random place in the world,,, parks himself somewhere and watches em all go by.

Sometimes its nice being a stranger!! Being attached to humans feels really disconcerting for him. like becoming best friends with a mayfly, yk?

Going somewhere where nobody knows him, nobody will remember him and he won't remember anyone he meets is like a palette cleanse.

Jr

GENUINELY I CANNOT THINK OF WHERE THIS MAN WOULD FIND TIME FOR A HOBBY?????

I think the closest he'd get is like,, retail therapy?

BUYING JUST,, SO MUCH SHIT. TO FILL THE ANXIOUS PIT IN HIS STOMACH. Pretty jewelry and furniture and new suits and haha what do you mean of course he isn't nervous :)

Once he got a message from the Shadow Board that shook him so thoroughly that he bought 3 malls worth of clothes

LISTEN HE'S COPING HOW HE'S COPING JUST,,, LET HIM HAVE THIS

I do like the idea that he used to play piano? He has this gorgeous grand piano in is dining-hall-slash-entertainment-area but,, the last time he actually PLAYED it was back when him and Rand were still working together, and it just feels wrong now. Instead it collects dust and mocks him.

Alpha-Beta

AT FIRST I WAS GONNA SAY LIKE,, Picross and Sudoku and Misc Puzzle-y Math-y things, but also?? I feel like he's so advanced that he wouldn't find any enjoyment in that. Half the fun of puzzles is the challenge of figuring out the answer, and when you have predictive + problem-solving algorithms up the wazoo,,,,, its just kinda boring lmao

I FINALLY SETTLED ON CHESS?? (EITHER BLITZ OR BULLET)

YEAH ITS KINDA BASIC FOR AN AI TO LIKE CHESS BUT IT FEELS UP HIS ALLEY?

It has the same problem-solving that puzzles give w/ enough of an element of unpredictability to keep him interested <3 PLUS the prospect of absolutely obliterating some humans at chess?

HE REALLY IS IN HIS ELEMENT <333 SUPER INTIMIDATING TO PLAY AGAINST THO. completely unflinching, barely pausing for any of his moves, this everso-slight smirk <3

THIS ALSO MEANS,, HE USUALLY DOESNT GET TO PLAY OFTEN?? Like even once he’s free roaming most ppl aren’t Actively Trying To Interact With The Omnicidal Robot,,, so,,, not a hobby he gets to enjoy often