Did you know Nana Visitor said in an interview she wasn’t considered a beautiful actress in the 90’s? absolutely insane
I actually had a hard time finding reference images for early season short hair big shoulder pads Kira. I guess they did less promo and the camera quality was maybe a bit shit in early on idk but this is my favourite outfit of hers ever I literally wrote about it for uni once
Anyway I can see definite improvement from my Dax painting, i’m still colour picking from the reference so I might challenge myself not to do that next time. I think this took around 3 hours? I should probably start timing myself
I’m really happy i’m getting better at digital painting but it has made me a little sad that I do so little traditional art now. that being said this is soo much easier to post getting a photo of the VVitch poster was so difficult and it would not scan correctly!!
all art is under #my art ,click for better quality !
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This isn’t so much a question but I’m so emotional about how in your fix-it au, little baby Padawan Cal would get to grow up with his Master ;—;
Idk I’m just so emotional about how he gets to grow up along side Master Tapal and gets to have adventures. I cant stop thinking about it
YEAAA same same same it makes me go insane!!! TAPAL GETS TO SEE HIM GROW UP!!!!
(commission info // tip jar!)
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— Minimalist symbols 𖹭
。𖦹°‧ 。⋆୨୧˚ ๋࣭⭑ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆。°✩ ⋆♱✮♱⋆
౨ৎ⋆˚。⋆ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ᯓ★ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 ₊˚⊹ᰔ
₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ ᝰ.ᐟ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚。⋆ ๋࣭ ⭑ (> . ✩)
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here y'all go, just a simple fun one this time around! take this quiz and tell me what kind of cat you are! (=^・ω・^=)
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headcannon that aventurine loves to kiss your pulse spots.
whether it be on your wrist or on your neck he’ll press chaste kisses to them, if it’s to ground himself or to check your heartbeat it depends on how he feels, too.
after you get too upset or if your stress is up he checks it by scooping you up in his arms and pressing his lips to your neck softly to see how fast it’s beating. he then tries in his awkwardness of “comforting” to help you calm down.
he also does it when your sleep. if you’re spooning him, aventurine will sneakily slide up or turn around to bury his head in your neck; desperately trying to feel your heartbeat against his lips in the wake of it.
in fact, you could say he does it everytime your back is to him. when you cook, when you sleep, when you get ready and he groggily tries to navigate to the spot.
aventurine does it so he knows you’re still here. not someplace else that’s out of his reach. not on another planet where his only solace is your voice saved on his phone. not away somewhere he can’t reach. here with him.
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cw. the aftermath of a physical altercation (implied), hurt with comfort, one mention of his real name utc. you're patching him up! 200+ wc.
“you're the first one, you know.”
the epiphany relayed to you falls softly from aventurine's lips, offering itself up for your listening ears as you dab a cotton over his scarred cheek. whatever residual from the prior scuffle must've stung, but he doesn't flinch one bit. you frown at the thought that he might've been so acquainted with pain that he coats every wound using numbness as a gauze. still, your touch on him remains gentle.
“what do you mean?” you ask.
“the first one to touch me without wanting to hurt me,” he confesses.
you don't make a remark but he doesn't mind at all. he finds that your actions speak louder than your words do; how you don't pull away from him, how you let him. . . to have this, to savor this instead. how strange, really, never in his life has permission ever tasted this sweet before.
(in his mind, he distantly recalls the calloused hands of those who held him before—his family—but it's been so long, too long since he was last held so kindly. you're the first to do so in a long while.)
you feel him lean into your hand. on purpose, perhaps. whether to prove his point, a daring gamble for you could easily strike him at his lowest (you didn't) – or to relish in the taste of comfort you're providing him, something he has been denied of by both destiny and himself (for comfort only tastes acrid when it comes from someone like him).
like a pair of arms open to embrace, like tears ready to be brushed away, like an unspoken invitation of: come rest, i'll be here.
(he sees them in your eyes, feels them in your touch.)
“. . .thank you.”
kakavasha whispers, almost reverent and bursting at the seams with gratitude, against your hand.
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i don’t want a star trek musical episode where they sing half assed pop songs i want the weyouns doing cell block tango from chicago
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