#her lights too and her paintings

[pxlheaux]

After talking to her mom for awhile, she agrees to let Rue go to her old room and take what she feels she needs and what she’ll be able to move with her. Annika assures her that she loves her, but she told her what she expected of her since birth and Rue constantly challenged her authority. 

Rue knew how her mom grew up and how her parents treated her. She was the only girl out of 3 other boys and Rue’s grandparents biggest goal was to have a successfully rich family at any cost. They had no regard for what their kids wanted for their happiness and would disown them quickly if they went against their word, something Annika’s 3 older brothers learned the hard way. 

Still, Rue knew she could prove her mother wrong. That didn’t mean she didn’t miss her life.

[ganondoodle]

rough concept for the cutscene between phase 3 (beast ganondorf, design not final) and the final fight

(totk rewritten project)

(.. i really need to find an approach to painting these that i like, i dont think its very convincing .. and it wasnt very fun to paint either :( )

[scandalousadventures]

Chamomile or chai? Sweet rabbit doll; I think she'd appreciate it if you joined her for tea 🫖

[kastalani123]

Consider:

Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.

Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.

A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.

The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.

It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.

Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.

He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.

Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.

Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?

[ka1omi]

unedited screenies of chioma's apartment in soho. largely inspired by @cocoelleansims and some of the paintings are by @kikovanitysimmer

[bonus: accidental shot cause i love her & this little corner of her room in her @yuyulie sweater and THE BOW IN HER IN HAIR UGH]

[adastra121]

Beautiful and mysterious, the blue water lily lines the rivers that flow through the land like fate through life.

In temples close to the water, the aquatic blooms are often used to brew calming remedies for sleep and dreaming. Some believe that this flower may even bring dreams of your destiny.

Template is from @redspringstudio.

Other OC Flower Bios:

Alon the Stray Hound (Spotted Touch-Me-Not)

Jin the Abandoned Alchemist (Plum Blossom)

[stealingpotatoes]

having ocs without faceclaims is all fun and games until you draw the same portrait four times in 6 months cause you really can't get the face right (did get it right 4th try LOL)

[sophiethewitch1]

You mentioned that all the Wayne's post thirst traps. And that Damian's are like Victorian women showing some racy ankle. What does he consider a thirst trap then.

Have you ever seen a man in a dark turtle neck sweater.

[averlym]

the one who pulls the strings (click for better resolution!)

from adamandi by @melliotwrites,, consider this my pitch to get you all to watch it

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[billystorm]

messier painting of my cat andy

[badolmen]

So many people on that poll voting ‘the sun doesn’t love us’ like you fool. She kisses you every morning and reach out to caress you every evening. She grows the food you eat. She shines so brightly she is burning with love for her beloved earth.

‘But she burned me!’ Does a lover never bite the lip of their companion a little too hard sometimes? You can choose to put on sunscreen. She can’t choose to extinguish her heart.

The sun loves us. Maybe a bit too much. But it’s love all the same.

[fragmentedblade]

Hmmm...

[rotyolk]

who remembers these wackos

[the-patchwork-girl-of-oz]

The rainbow and pink, white, and orange hearts symbolize their friendship.:3

[freaky-flawless]

I watched a video on Instagram of someone customizing a G3 Draculaura doll, and one of the comments said something along the lines of "Wow, it must be really hard for them (Mattel) to see you erase all their hard work 😕"

Like...what? Who's hard work??? The factory machines???