#buy the paint Robert!

[kentucky-daisey]

The undeniable urge to do renovations.

I am a queer woman and I want to fix something with my hands!!! Take me to Home Depot and set me free!

[noirtek]

decided that getting “sir-uh, ma’am—sir”d by a homeless guy and told that i look like robert smith by a cashier on the same day is a compliment

[kotori-mochi]

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free, mostly teaches anatomy and how to draw people. But does have art talks and teaches the basics.)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard and teaches you everything)

Aaron Rutten (free, tips about art, talks about art programs and the best products for digital art)

BoroCG (free, teaches a verity of art mediums from 3D modeling to digital painting. As well as some tips that can be used across styles)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free, teaches digital painting and has classes in Spanish)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price. Mostly teaching character designs and simple backgrounds.)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney. Mostly nature art)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Sinix Design (has some tips on drawing people)

Winged canvas (art school for free on a verity of mediums)

Bob Ross (just a good time, learn how to paint, as well as how too relax when doing art. "there are no mistakes only happy accidents", this channel also provides tips from another artist)

Scott Christian Sava (Inspiration and provides tips and advice)

Pikat (art advice and critiques)

Drawbox (a suggested cheap online art school, made of a community of artist)

Skillshare (A cheap learning site that has art classes ranging from traditional to digital. As well as Animation and tutorials on art programs. All under one price, in the USA it's around $34 a month)

Human anatomy for artist (not a video or teacher but the site is full of awesome refs to practice and get better at anatomy)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

📝As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. If you want to go fancy Michaels is always a good place for traditional supplies. They also get in some good sales and discounts. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are usually more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates. Galaxy, Windows, macOS, iPad, iPhone, Android, or Chromebook device. )

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99 usd, IPAD & IPHONE ONLY)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, animation and more. Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Aseprite ($19.99 usd but has a free trail, for pixel art Windows & macOS)

Drawpile (free and for if you want to draw with others)

IbisPaint (free, phone app ONLY)

Medibang (free, IPAD, Android and PC)

NOTE: Some of these can work on almost any computer like Clip and Sai but others will require a bit stronger computer like Blender. Please check their sites for if your computer is compatible.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

"also apologies for any spelling or grammar errors, I have Dyslexia and it makes my brain go XP when it comes to speech or writing"

[neptxn3]

Synastry I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy ⋆｡˚꩜ . ݁ ˖ִ

Ok the title is an exaggeration, more like synastry I would prefer not to have, like always:

Disclaimer, these are observations I have made through personal experience and thorough research, observations also vary depending on other synastry and natal placements involved! All of these aspects can be worked through, none of these aspects make or break a relationship ❤️

Doesn’t resonate ≠ untrue

˚꩜ . ݁ ˖ִ | Navigation post

Lilith in the 7th house / conjunct descendant

♅ When women have their Lilith present in the seventh house in synastry, often times the house person can make the Lilith person feel shame just by loving who they are. The reason is because lilith in the charts of women is the area where society has convinced them is unnatural and wrong, something they should be ashamed of. So when the seventh house person who sees Lilith an an ideal desire and partner wants to love Lilith in the way they think is right, the Lilith person can pull away. Marriage is not seen as an appropriate act to follow a shameful relationship. Seventh house also represents open enemies, over time the Lilith person can resent the seventh house person. It’s typical for Lilith to pull away in these relationships in order to avoid any commitment.

♅ When a man’s Lilith is present in the seventh house in synastry, you’ll often notice they do not want to marry the seventh house counter part. Lilith in a man’s chart is the woman society has told him he should not pursue which only makes him want to chase her even more. It’s undeniable that the relationship is passionate, but it is also a sign that he does not intend to take the relationship seriously. Again, the seventh house is also the house of open enemies, the male Lilith can be very public with his intentions of not committing to the house person.

Celebrity Examples: Orlando bloom (Lilith) + Katy Perry // Andrew Garfield + Emma stone (Lilith) // FKA twigs + Robert Pattinson (Lilith)

Pisces and Libra mars

♅ I say this because Mars already has a hard time expressing its aggression or purpose in these signs, so when you take something that’s already confused and hand it to someone that will misconstrue your intentions to an even bigger extreme it becomes so draining.

♅ It’s like staying silent after an argument because you don’t know how to communicate your emotions, then the other partner sees this and thinks that your inability to work through these issues means you hate them. You just really have to hope the Mercury synastry is well aspected in this relationship😭

Sun square moon

♅ Moon typically views the sun to be someone who only indulges in their own pleasures and doesn’t seem to care about what others feelings. Often times the moon can feel as though the sun doesn’t understand or support them in endeavors that bring their inner child joy.

♅ The sun thinks the moon is irrational in its decisions and is too deep in thought to understand the suns true emotions. The sun is usually the most aware in this synastry that the moon is misconstruing it’s intentions, but is incapable of understanding how what they are saying is hurtful.

“ I want to start selling my paintings”.

“ well you’re not selling at that price, you know how much people like to lowball”.

“ maybe they’ll appreciate my art and buy full price?”.

“ moon, I wouldn’t buy a painting like that for more than 10 bucks, let’s be realistic here”.

♅ Moon person can be a push over the the relationship. To overcome this hurdle sun must be open to change, and moon must be willing to set boundaries and expectations. If not, there’s always going to be a nagging feeling in the pit of each others stomach where they know there’s an emptiness in your interactions.

Mercury square saturn

♅ Saturn person has a tendency to feel like the dominant partner in the relationship intellectually wise. They can feel like they have the wisdom and upper hand to teach the Mercury person about maturity and knowledge. However because it is in the tense aspect of the square, Saturn person has a habit of not understanding how Mercury has a way about going through things.

♅ Mercury is not only our communication but also our day to day mundane things. Saturn person can find a flaw in how Mercury spends their morning, their work habits, their food intake, how they do their hair etc. This can be frustrating to the Mercury person because they believe Saturn tends to nitpick everything the Mercury person does. The worst part of this synastry is Saturn can regard themselves too mighty and disregard the Mercury persons concerns which is where withdrawals can occur (Mercury tiptoeing around the issues and avoiding constant conflict with Saturn)

Pluto square Mars

♅ This synastry aspect can unfortunately have a great possibility of physical abuse. Pluto in one’s chart goes through intense transformations and changes that can be abrupt at times. An example could be, the Pluto person could go on a weight journey after overcoming a health problem that caused them to gain weight. The Pluto partner could expect of the Mars partner to join them in their new health routine, but the square between these two planets makes it evident they do not view this new change in the same way. Pluto can be angered with the mars partners lack of encouragement which in turn activates Mars’ aggression. Being the God of war, Mars will not back down when challenged which creates a back and forth conflict.

“ Can you get off your ass and take out the trash like you said you would.”

“Can you get off my ass and do it yourself, I’m the one who pays the bills around here.”

“I’m not taking disrespect from someone like you, I’ll leave you if that’s what it takes for you to see how badly you treat me.”

“Then leave.”

Moon square Uranus

♅ Unless the moon partner has natal moon/Uranus aspects, this aspect can be categorized as constant anxiety for the moon partner. There’s a lack of emotional stability and satisfaction which can be detrimental to the moon partner. It can feel like there’s finally a point in the relationship where you are both on the same page in life, but the Uranus counter part moves on to the next thing that causes turmoil in the relationship

♅ The reason this can be detrimental to the moon person is simply because the moon likes being in calm waters. The exaltion in Taurus indicates the moon likes to feel comfortable in the same spot for long periods of time, but when it’s aspected negatively by the Uranus individual it challenges the moon to constantly change its environment.

♅ Moon person can find themselves leaving the comfort of their home (not literally) in order to chase Uranus. Uranus finds themselves poking the hornets nest (Moon) to see how much independence from the relationship they can get away with.

Quincux signs

♅ When two signs are quincux (Virgo/Aries, Gemini/Scorpio, Aquarius/Cancer etc.) it’s difficult to understand what the other person is feeling. In sexual synastry (mars) , you both can have trouble understanding what pleases one another. With Venus signs, its a hard time understanding your love language.

♅ if one partners Sagittarius sun is quincux the other partners Cancer moon, it can feel to the moon person that the sun doesn’t even bother understanding the moons emotions, and it’s simply because the sun never even thought about what the moon person feels. Not because they’re selfish, but because they’ve never met someone who goes about their feelings like the moon.

♅ Aquarius mars quincux Virgo Venus. Mars partner can expect the Venus partner to allow them their own freedom and manage their own schedule while venus partner could be adamant about curating mars a monthly schedule to stick by which in turn can turn the mars partner off.

Quick Notes

♅ When one’s natal Saturn is negatively aspected and enters a persons 9th house in synastry, the Saturn person can seem to restrict the 9th house persons beliefs and knowledge. For example, turning the 9th house person religious/having them join a cult/demanding obediance of a woman (dispite previously potentially being more liberal.

♅ Negatively aspected natal saturn entering the money houses in synastry (2,8,11) can mean the saturn person takes away the house persons possessions/money. In the second house, they can refuse to buy you things because “you haven’t given them a reason to”/taking expensive things they’ve bought you back. 8th house, taking money your parents give you (allowances,inheritance) potentially disability checks if you receive those. 11th house, taking money from work you’ve done because of the connections they’ve given you that allowed your income to flourish.

♅ Negative Moon/Pluto can be stressful to have. Moon can open up to Pluto, and dispute being someone who isn’t shy of intense topics, if this relationships dissolves (due to other incompatible aspects) it can almost feel like “I just told you my deepest secrets, you can’t just walk away like I didn’t tell you the things that could ruin my life”.

♅ 12th house Neptune overlay. Ok this one’s a stretch but, if it gets to these deep rock bottom moments and you’re stuck in a room with someone who’s Neptune is badly aspected and it’s in your 12th house. Introduction to drugs/narcotics. Not the cool kind, I mean the one that has you sniffing the floor for snow ❄️

♅ Virgo mars man

♅ Malefics simultaneously in the 4th house and 9th house. Could lead to isolation from family and could potentially have you move away from any support systems.

[paradiseprincesss]

any cillian murphy character with praise? thank you 💗💗

million dollar man - robert fischer x reader

hi anon! i hope i did your request justice - thank you for being my first request! i listened to million dollar man by lana del rey on repeat while writing this, hope you enjoy xoxo.

summary: robert takes you on vacation for your anniversary, and you give him a little late night fashion show in your beach home.

word count: 2k

a/n: if you haven't already noticed all my fics are based off songs LMAO im gonna start linking the songs each fic is based off of kk thats all

warnings: 18+ minors dni!! smut, swearing, kissing, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, sexual content ahead lol

the west coast was breathtaking, the palm trees, warm weather, the beaches - all of it was beautiful.

robert had taken you on vacation to the west coast to celebrate your one-year anniversary together. he paid for it all, of course, and you were ever so grateful for it.

currently, the two of you were speeding down the coast at sunset in the cream coloured luxury convertible he had stored at one of the beach homes he owned down here. the wind was blowing through your hair, his hand was on your thigh, and to tie it all together - the sun was gleaming down on you as it set over the shore.

robert glanced at you while attempting to focus on driving down the coast, but he found himself getting distracted - your beauty was breathtaking, and tonight, you were the only thing he could find himself focusing on.

dating a man worth more than just millions was new to you - but you had adjusted to it just fine over the last year. robert spoiled you, this shouldn't come as a surprise, though.

constantly showering you in gifts; he would buy you designer bags, shoes, clothes, cars, and jewelry - anything you wanted, you could have. at least, that's what he always said.

he gave your thigh a little squeeze as he raced down the road, eventually pulling up the beach house- no, mansion - that he had owned down on the west coast. the home itself was breathtaking, an oceanfront property that screamed luxury. as the car came to a stop on the driveway, robert took your hand and gave it a small kiss. he got out of the car, swiftly coming to the passenger side and opening the door for you.

"come on, honey, i have something i want to show you." he said, helping you out of the car. a curious expression painted your face as he took your hand in his, leading you into the home.

as he opened the door for you - you gasped.

in the large foyer of the home, there were bouquets on bouquets of red roses everywhere - your favourite. amongst the beautiful floral arrangements, there were multiple boxes and bags all with gift wrapping or ribbons on them, from designer stores - goyard, chanel, louis vuitton - you name it.

"robert..." you say softly, looking over at him with your hand still in his, and he smiles at you proudly.

"i love you. happy anniversary." he says, wrapping his arms around you, and kissing you softly.

"i love you too." was all you managed to mumble against his lips - he spoiled you on a daily basis but this - this was something else; you'd never had a partner willingly give you this much for an anniversary before - but you also never dated a millionaire before. as you pulled away from the kiss, you look up at him with a doting expression, "how can i ever thank you for this, robbie? you're so good to me..."

he looks at you with love - and smirks, his voice dropping low.

"i still have one more thing for you upstairs, gorgeous." he whispers, hands snaking down to your ass - giving it a little squeeze.

you bite your lip and nod, as he gestures you to go up the stairs, following you. as you reach the master bedroom - you see even more roses littered all over, and a medium sized white box on the middle of the bed, adorned with a matching white bow, and little white card on the top.

you reached over to pick up the little memo, and it read:

happy anniversary, my angel. i adore you.

love, robert.

glancing down at the box - you read the label, it was from your favourite lingerie store, la perla.

carefully unwrapping the bow and opening the box, you peeked inside to see a gorgeous white italian lingerie set. you let out a shallow breath, and turned around to see him smirking slightly.

"i want to see my little angel dress the part," he says lowly, "why don't you go put that on and give me a little fashion show, hm? how's that sound, angel?"

you look up at him innocently, and bite your lip as you got lost in his icy gaze for a moment, "anything for you."

grabbing the contents in the box, you rush to the bathroom to go try it on for robert. closing the door behind you, you shed your dress and put on the lingerie - complete with a garter belt and straps. looking at yourself up and down in the mirror, you couldn't even lie - you felt so sexy.

the white set he got you was stunning, the white lace sat perfectly on your skin - and the little bow details on the set was the cherry on top. as you were about to step out from the bathroom, you slipped on the white heels that were in the box.

of course he wanted you to wear heels with it - he's just that extra. but hey, he paid god knows what for them, so...

as you opened the door, you found robert sitting on the edge of the bed, his tie visibly loosened now. as he heard the door to the bathroom open, he quickly looked over at you.

"my god," he breathed, "come here, pretty."

following his instructions you walked over to him, his gaze not once leaving your body; drinking your beauty in.

"c'mon, give me a little spin, honey." he coos, throwing pet names left and right at you. doing as you're told, you indeed give him a little spin, and he suddenly gets up, standing behind you.

"bend over the edge of the bed for me, honey." he softly tells you, and again - you do as your told, bending over the bed for him, your white lace panties leaving just about nothing to the imagination.

"god, your body is fucking lethal." he groans, pressing his hard bulge on your clothed cunt, making you moan in bliss at the feeling. "fuck, your moans are just as pretty as you are," he chokes, "my pretty girl."

"robbie..." you moan, and he quickly flips you around onto your back, pushing you onto the bed, making you slightly startled - but you giggle.

"love making you happy," he says, leaving sloppy kisses all over your neck, trailing down to your breasts, "i'd do anything for you, honey - anything. give you the world if i could, fuck."

his hands ghost over the lace and little bow adorning the bra, and the feeling makes you shiver. you were certain that you were already soaking through your panties, and you let out a whimper at the feeling.

he took his time with you - admiring you as if you were an art piece. eventually, he unclasped your bra, and he immediately took your nipple into his mouth. your hand went straight for his hair, and you started moaning breathlessly.

"fuck, robbie, baby." you say, out of breath, "please."

he didn't offer you a reply, instead, he just went straight to the other nipple, and teasingly nipped at it, all whilst snaking a hand down to your clothed cunt - fingers ghosting over your clit. the feeling made you moan and you needed him inside of you - now.

after giving a few more kisses to your breasts, he got on his stomach to lay between your legs, teasingly pulling your panties down and giving you absolutely no time to react before licking a stripe up your cunt.

"fuck." you moaned at the feeling, and you swore you felt him smile against you.

he ate you out as if he hadn't eaten for days - like a starved man. tongue licking every inch of your pussy, sucking your sensitive clit, as his name was falling from your lips like a mantra.

"god, you taste so good." he mumbled against your soaking cunt, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the praise, but he kept going, "pretty face, pretty tits, pretty pussy. you're the fantasy."

that got you moaning, begging - and you felt yourself get close.

"i-i'm, oh- i'm s-so close." you moaned, and he continued to dip his tongue into your hole all while sucking your clit - going back and forth between the two.

you felt that familiar sensation in your stomach, and you felt yourself tip over the edge - incoherently begging, whining and moaning his name over and over.

"you look so fucking pretty when you cum." he softly says, after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand - the sight making you dizzy. your slick on his now even pinker lips and chin, pupils blown out.

scrambling out of desperation, you helped him out of his white button down as he worked on undoing his belt.

"good girl, fuck-" he says as you help him out of his clothing, "you're so well behaved, aren't you pretty girl?"

you smile up at him, still dazed from the way he made you cum just a minute ago, and he pushes you back down on the bed as he stroked his now free cock.

he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, making you whine. "be good, baby." he warns - but it was gentle, just teasing.

you pout at him but that pout is wiped right off your face as you feel him sink into you, stretching your cunt out completely. you let out an almost pornographic moan, and your hands fly to his shoulders for some sort of support - something to grab onto.

"jesus- fuck, how do you get tighter every time i fuck you?" he groans, fucking into your cunt at a fast pace, making you whimper and moan.

"right there, oh my goddddd." you say, breathlessly, the feeling of cock stretching you out causing you to see stars.

"right there?" he coos, brushing a strand of your tousled hair out of your face, "right there, pretty?"

you just nod frantically, hands gripping his biceps and shoulders - unable to reply from the levels of pleasure he was bringing you in that moment, cock pounding into your tight cunt at a brutal pace.

he felt you tighten around his cock and let out a noise that was fucking filthy - his moans were something you swore you could listen to on repeat, all day, all the time.

"good girl, good fucking girl." he praised through a moan, and you just moaned his name over and over.

"robbie- ah, feels so good!" you whimper, feeling the knot in your stomach about to pop.

"you gonna cum pretty girl? be good for, shit-" he moans, "be good for me and cum." he says in a saccharine voice, his gaze never leaving you, causing you to blush - even though he almost always kept eye contact with you while he fucked you.

his words caused you to scream his name, and you made a mess all over his cock, cumming so hard you felt tears stream down your face.

"look at you-" he groans, feeling himself close to release, cock still pounding into your cunt at a ruthless speed, "so fucking beautiful when you cry. shit, baby, gonna fill you up. stuff you with my cum.”

you found yourself crying under him, tears of love; tears from overstimulation.

"p-please," you weakly say, voice a little raspy, "cum i-in me."

"fuck, i will, good girl..." he groans, shooting his load into your cunt with a moan.

he pulls you into a rough kiss, which you moan into as you felt his warm seed being stuffed into your cunt.

he pulls away after a moment, panting and out of breath - a small smile on his face. after a few beats of silence, he puts his hand on your cheek, cupping your face gently - lovingly.

"happy anniversary, pretty girl."

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob ends up on thin ice with Molly after Bradley ends up on thin ice with her sister. But all he can think about is the perfect night he spent with her and how he'd be crushed if he didn't get a chance to do it all again. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, 18+

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob was trying his best to be in the moment at the Hard Deck, since he was the one who invited Molly's sister out for a drink. He wanted to say thank you for all the hard work she put in while Bradley was away. But he was so distracted. 

Molly had spent the entire day sending him selfies while she was at work, and some of them were definitely rated mature. Bob had almost broken his phone earlier trying to minimize a photo of Molly's pierced nipples when Coyote walked over to him. She had snapped the photo of herself in the bathroom at the hospital when she was on break along with the caption I miss you, Bobby <3

The little heart at the end reminded him that he had already said he loved her. He assumed she hadn't heard him, but it made him blush just the same. And now he was at the bar with her sister and Bradley, which should have been fun, but he just wanted to get home and see Molly. 

Bob watched Nat and Jake both relentlessly flirt with Team Mom, but there was no way she had eyes for anyone except Bradley. And then he wondered what it would be like if he brought Molly here. He wanted to, because he already wanted to be with her all the time. But...Bob looked around at all the guys, and that feeling of self doubt was back. Jake was handsome and charming, and probably the kind of guy Molly was used to being with. 

When Nat offered to buy a drink for Team Mom, Bob cut her off, glad for the distraction. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?" And while he was up at the bar, waiting patiently for Penny to fill his order, Molly's sister ran out of the bar, followed closely by Bradley. 

"What happened?" Bob asked, holding two beers while Jake rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He mumbled a response and walked away, but when Bradley finally came back inside, he looked like he was ready to kill Jake. 

And then the barrage of text messages from Molly came through. Bob's eyes went wide as he read them.

Are you aware that your buddy Bradley is actually a fucking dickhead? I can't BELIEVE what he did to my sister! 

Seriously, Bob. Why didn't you warn my sister about him?! What the fuck! He called Everett baggage!

Please tell me you're not like him!

You know what? Maybe I don't want to find out. 

Bob called her immediately, but she didn't answer. When he got her voicemail, he said, "Mo, please call me back so we can talk, okay? I don't think Bradley meant any of what he said. He's not a bad guy. And I... don't think I could ever do anything to hurt you." He contemplated telling her he loved her again, but he ended the call before he could. 

He was already home for the night when he got one last text from her.

I'm not coming over. 

Bob collapsed in his bed, raking his fingers through his hair, wondering if this, of all things, was what would cost him his chance with her.

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

Molly was having a wonderful evening with Everett. They painted huge masterpieces on poster boards and left all the messy brushes in the kitchen sink. Molly secretly loved leaving an innocuous mess for her sister to clean up in her otherwise spotless house. It kept her on her toes. 

"Movie time? With ice cream?" she asked Everett, checking the time. Of course she'd let him stay up late. That's just what aunts did. 

"There's ice cream?!" he shouted, sprinting back into the kitchen.

"Of course there's ice cream," she replied, kneeling in front of the freezer. "I know all of your mom's secrets. She thinks she's so sneaky, but you can't get anything past me." After removing all the healthy, pre portioned frozen dinners, Molly hit the jackpot. There was a gallon of fudge ripple and a gallon of vanilla raspberry. "See?" she asked Everett, holding them both up.

"Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple!" he chanted, and soon they were watching a PG-13 movie with two spoons stuck in the ice cream carton. 

"Want some more?" she asked, passing the carton to him.

He took a bite and said, "I don't think my mom wanted me to watch this movie."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "I'll cover your eyes for the scary parts, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed.

Molly took a few more bites before she asked him, "You like Coach Bob, right?"

"Oh yeah, like a whole lot," he replied. "Almost as much as I like Coach Bradley."

"That's a lot," Molly muttered. "I like him, too." She was smiling as Everett looked at her. 

"You should probably marry him," he said seriously. "I heard my mom say that Coach Bob is smart and nice and that she never thought you could do so well."

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like something your mom would say, and that's exactly why we are eating her overpriced ice cream without her. Now close your eyes for the scary part."

About twenty minutes later, Everett was sound asleep on her lap while she finished the ice cream. Then she carried him up to bed, starting to get a little nervous that her sister would be back soon. She tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and then hightailed it back to the kitchen to hide the evidence of the empty ice cream carton. 

But when she got home, Molly could tell something was wrong and went right into protective jungle cat mode. "What happened?" she asked softly as soon as she saw her sister's tear streaked cheeks and quivering lips.

After a few minutes of being held in Molly's arms, she was able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

"That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," she said softly against Molly's shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said vehemently. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

It had been more than a makeout session, but Molly wasn't going to correct her. She was so into Bob after being intimate with him, that she was devastated now. Because Molly knew she would ditch him in an instant, even if it would hurt, in order to support her family. 

Molly kissed her sister's cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

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

Bob barely slept, and he was wide awake before his alarm went off on Saturday morning for the tee ball game. He hadn't heard another word from Molly. Even if she wanted to yell over the phone, he would have loved to hear her voice. 

When he arrived at the ballfield, Bradley was already there. "You look like shit," Bob told him, and he could hear the disappointment in his own voice. 

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley didn't hang around at the bar last night after things blew up, so Bob really wasn't sure exactly how bad it was.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley looked sincerely upset on Bob's behalf. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bob felt his heart lurch as he looked up toward the parking lot and saw Molly and Everett headed his way. "I'll be right back," he mumbled and headed for her immediately. 

Everett ran past him, calling out, "Hi, Coach Bob!" before continuing on to Bradley. But Bob had his sights set on Molly and her beautiful face filled with indignant anger.

"Molly," he gasped, wanting to reach for her as she came stomping to a halt in front of him. She was glorious. God, he was in love with her.

"Tell me you knew," she demanded. "Tell me you knew Bradley was trying to play my sister." She was practically vibrating with concealed rage now. "Tell me you fucking knew he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as them."

Bob swallowed hard, and her eyes flashed. "Molly, he loves them. I don't think he would do or say anything to intentionally hurt either of them." 

"He has a sick way of showing it," she spat. "He called Everett baggage."

Bob held his forehead in his hands. "I think Bradley just needs to talk to her. He's so crazy about them, he's really beating himself up."

Bob watched Molly glance past him to glare at Bradley while he helped Everett get ready for the game. "He can rot," she said, but her voice was softer now. "And so can you if you agree with what he said." 

"I don't," he promised. "Please, Molly. I...I missed you yesterday as soon as I dropped you off at your car. I missed you all night. I missed texting with you until one of us fell asleep."

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. She muttered, "I missed you, too," and then she was heading toward the bleachers. 

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

Molly was finding it hard to keep giving Bob the cold shoulder after another day. She was spending a lot of her time with her sister and nephew, sleeping over there and taking Everett out to keep him entertained.

She didn't feel any better after she blew up at Bradley. In fact Molly felt worse, because she sensed that Bradley really was sincere in the way he just wanted to apologize. And he clearly doted on Everett. Maybe he really did just want a chance to apologize, but Molly knew her sister wasn't ready to listen yet.

Her phone went off, and she reached for it while she was making coffee at her place late on Sunday morning. 

Coach Cute Glasses: I miss you, Molly. 

She groaned; the gas station flowers were in the vase right next to her, and she was trying not to look at them. Casey never did anything like give Molly flowers. He'd given her some hickeys and exactly two orgasms. But he also hadn't been friends with anyone who hurt her sister. 

She moaned helplessly. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to spend another night curled up with Bob, all warm and protected. She wanted to feel his even breathing and listen to his soft voice as she fell asleep. "Damn it," she whined, typing out a message to him.

Miss you, too. Any chance I'm still invited to your place? 

Molly was weak for Bob. She knew that already. Just one night with him, and she was constantly daydreaming about him at work. His rough hands. And how sweet he was. And how he wanted to be exclusive with her already. And his big cock. 

Coach Cute Glasses: You are always invited. Please, Molly, anytime. Do you want to spend the night with me? 

Molly snorted as she read the text, but another one was already coming through.  

Coach Cute Glasses: I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded! I'd just love to see you. I would be so happy if you wanted to come by, and even happier if you wanted to stay with me all night. I liked how it felt to wake up in bed with you. 

Molly tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. He could wait it out for a bit. That sort of thing was good for a man. Especially one who was that eager to see you. But by the time she parked at the hospital, she texted him back. 

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

Bob was in such a panic. Molly was coming over. And he wasn't sure if she was upset with him or just Bradley. He wasn't sure if she was planning on staying over. 

"I'm sorry," Bradley told him for the hundredth time when he called him. "I'm sorry if I blew it for you."

"I'm going to talk to Molly in a few hours," Bob said, rushing through the parking lot to his truck. He was running around, grocery shopping, trying to distract himself. 

"Can you tell her I miss her sister and Ev?" Bradley asked.

"I'll try," Bob promised as he got into his truck and ended the call.

Molly worked until 8 o'clock. He had a few hours to kill before he'd see her, so he wasn't quite sure why he was rushing. Then he stopped for more gas station flowers and cleaned his already spotless condo. He tried to eat dinner, but he couldn't stomach anything except toast. And when he finally heard her ringing the intercom button, he ran to answer it.

"It's Molly," she said softly, and he quickly let her into the building. He stood with his front door open, and a minute later, there she was. She had changed after work, and she looked stunning. No make-up at all and just some jeans and a crop top, but Bob felt suddenly short of breath. He wanted to run his hand along the flower tattoos on her side, and kiss her there too. 

"Molly," he whispered, fighting the urge to blurt out another I love you. He needed to keep it together right now. "Come in."

She walked past him and looked slowly around his living room and dining room while he closed and locked his door. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and suddenly he felt a little ridiculous that his place was so sparse. 

"Very clean," she muttered, her voice and clothing filling the space with so much color and warmth as she examined the gas station flowers. "I wouldn't know how to keep up with it," she said, turning and smiling softly at him. 

"I missed you," he blurted out, and her smile grew.

"Tell me more," she demanded, turning to fully face him. 

Bob swallowed and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He was afraid he was going to stutter or say something stupid, but Molly just smiled at him, her all-knowing eyes gentle on his face as she waited.

"I...can't get you out of my mind. I called the runway attendant Molly by accident earlier, because I was thinking about you. Phoenix, my pilot, will never let me live it down."

Molly's laughter had him taking a step closer. "Tell me more," she said, also taking a step toward him. 

"I can't stand the thought of you being upset with me," he said sincerely. He ducked his head and added, "Thursday evening was one of the best nights of my life. Because I spent it with you." He paused, finally daring to meet her eyes.

"Oh, keep going," she said with a nod. "You're doing great."

"I want you to believe I'd never be friends with Bradley if I didn't think he was a good person. And I think he just got a little mixed up. Your sister and nephew really threw him for a loop, you know? But he really loves them."

Molly hummed and shrugged. "I guess I could relay that message to my sister. But I also have a message from me to you."

Bob took a deep breath. "What is it?"

"I missed you, too. I can't stop thinking about you either. And Thursday night and Friday morning, you were so sweet to me, I just want more." Then she kissed his chin and took his hands in hers. "I want you to touch me."

Bob pulled her close as she placed his hands at her waist. He would never get used to being around her, not as easily as she seemed to already know how he operated. She looked up at him, gaze open and earnest. Soft fingers gliding up his arms, tucking into the short sleeves of his tee shirt and gently squeezing his biceps. She placed three soft kisses to the corner of his lips, and he was done. He had to fight the invading thoughts of her nipple piercings and the way her body feels and looks when she's whining for him in her bed beneath him.

"Molly," he begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for. 

"Bobby?" she asked softly, pushing one hand through his hair and keeping his gaze focused on her. "I think I need you to fuck me."

"Oh," he groaned, turning her and pushing her back against the wall. He caged her in, and she looked absolutely delighted. 

"If you want to." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was anything but.

"Honey," Bob managed between ragged breaths as she let her hands come to rest on his abs. She was messing with him. Messing him up completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, but meanwhile, Bob was new to this game. But he was a quick study. A fast learner. 

So when Molly licked her lips and pouted, saying, "You don't want me Bobby? I thought you wanted to be the only one," he was ready for her. 

He wedged one thigh up between her legs, and she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She was grabbing for his shoulders, rubbing herself all over him. He could feel her teeth, digging into his bottom lip, not hard, but definitely not soft. When she released him, she licked his lips until her tongue was in his mouth. 

Bob was rock hard, and try as he may to keep control in this moment, he couldn't. Because Molly was stroking him through his pants and tasting his mouth. Her nose was rubbing along his as she whispered, "Do you want me, Bobby?"

He reached down, wrapping both of his hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms. Then her lips were on his neck and her arms were wrapped around him as he took her to his bedroom. She was on her back on his bed, kicking her shoes off while her little top rode up so Bob could see the soft undersides of her breasts. There was too much to admire here, and he froze up. 

When Molly's hands found the zipper of her jeans, she whispered. "I want you to say it, Bobby. I want you to tell me everything you plan to do to me." And then her hand was slipping inside her underwear, and she was stroking herself as he watched. 

"Mo," his voice was hoarse. He pushed her knees apart and settled between her legs, bending to kiss her wrist before pulling her hand free of her jeans. "I want to put my mouth on you."

The smile that curled along her lips as she started to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear should have made him a little nervous, but he was beyond help. Her bare pussy was right there, and she smelled so good. As soon as her jeans hit his floor, Bob's face was buried in her. 

"Alright, Lieutenant Floyd," she moaned softly. "Okay." And to Bob's delight and dismay, Molly's hands were on her own breasts, pushing her shirt up and playing with her piercings. She tasted so good as he ran his tongue through her wetness and sucked on her clit. But soon he was rutting into the bed, the sight of her fingers on those little barbells spurring him on. 

When Bob slipped his tongue inside her, Molly's back arched off the bed as she started whining for him. "Bobby, I want your big cock." He grunted in response, willing to give her anything in this moment, and shocked by how much he liked her dirty talk. 

He worked the zipper over his painfully hard erection and scrambled to get himself free. And then he was rocking into her at the same time he got his mouth on her nipples. 

"Yes," she hissed softly, head tipped back with a soft giggle on her lips. He was fucking her, and it felt just as perfect as it had a few days previously. Like her whole body was made for him. Like every response from her perfect lips was just what he needed to hear. "So fucking big."

He pushed those little, silver barbells around with his teeth and tongue, tugging a little bit until Molly was gasping his name. When he sucked harder on her nipples, she was screaming for him. And when she came on his cock, holding his face against her breasts and shaking beneath him, Bob could hardly believe he'd been able to make her orgasm again. 

"Molly," he gasped. "I love the way you shake."

"Oh my god," she moaned as he fucked her through her little tremors. But then she was sitting up, kissing his face, and Bob slipped out of her perfect warmth as she moved to kneel on his floor.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and ran her hands up over his thighs. Bob's pants were pulled down to his knees, and Molly pushed them to his ankles before wrapping her pretty lips around his cock. She settled in between his legs, and Bob could only stare at her and try to memorize the obscene sounds they made together. 

Molly was good at this. She was good at everything. Bob tried to keep up, but her mouth felt too perfect. And then she popped up onto her knees and started running the tip of his cock along those pretty piercings. "Molly!"

"You like that?" she asked coyly, but Bob was hypnotized by the look and feel of the barbells on his erection. With a soft groan, Molly squeezed her perfect breasts together, sandwiching Bob between them. He thrust himself up closer to her mouth, and sure enough, she parted her pretty lips and licked him. Bob continued to do this until he was grunting and Molly's saliva was dripping down her chest, making the sensations even more spectacular for him. 

Slick saliva, wet breasts and Molly's mouth. "Oh!" he grunted, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she sucked on him. But when she took his tightening balls in her soft hand and gave him a little squeeze, Bob came hard, without any warning. He watched in alarm as his cum spurted all over her lips and cheeks while she giggled. Molly jerked him off until he was gasping for air and wishing he had enough in him to coat her whole body, because it looked that pretty.

She licked her lips and opened her eyes, and Bob watched as his cum dripped down from her eyelashes, along her cheek and landed on her nipple piercing. Molly took his hand in hers and ran his fingers through the mess before guiding his hand up to her lips. She tasted him there and ran her tongue between his long fingers and across his palm. 

"You made the mess," she whispered before sucking on his thumb for a beat. "Now you have to help me clean up."

"Gladly," he promised, nearly rocketing off the bed as she set his hand on her breast. Bob used his wet thumb to collect his cum from her piercing and then he let her take his hand between her lips again. But then he was on the floor with her, pushing her gently onto her back as she laughed. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, but the words died on her lips when Bob licked his own cum off of her chest before kissing her and letting her taste it. He held both of her wrists in his hands above her head, and he was treated to the sights and sounds of Molly. She was rubbing her pussy along his soft length as she licked his cum from his mouth, and Bob just enjoyed making out with her on the floor. Everything tasted like him and smelled like Molly, and he listened to her soft laughter. 

His hands and shirt were a mess of cum, and Molly's pretty face absolutely lit up for him when he whispered, "I like the way I taste on your skin."

"Bobby. You fucking deviant," she moaned, taking his face between her slightly sticky palms and leaning up to kiss his lips. She wrapped one leg around his waist to keep his body against hers, and Bob let his cheek come to rest on her chest. He'd never been called anything close to that before, but he could tell he'd lose himself in the moment with Molly over and over again like this if she'd keep letting him. 

And then he blurted out, "You're not mad at me then?" while she combed her fingers through his hair. 

She hummed in contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at you, Coach Bob. I'm pissed off at Bradley, and I'm trying to protect my family. But I'm not mad at you."

Bob sighed in relief and ran his fingers along her pretty tattoo. He had found it actually painful the way she'd been avoiding talking to him, but he could see where she was coming from. 

"That makes me happy. And I can understand you wanting to protect them. They are where your loyalty lies."

"Don't fuck with my family," she whispered softly as she turned her head, and Bob glanced up at her as she swiped at her eyes. "I hardly have any left."

Bob could sense that she wanted him to change the subject, so he kissed her soft skin and said, "I like your tattoos."

She laughed sardonically and said, "Thanks."

"Did you get the carnation tattoos because it's your favorite flower?" he asked, running his index finger along the colorful ink.

"No," she told him. She was quiet for a moment, and Bob started sweating before she asked, "Did you know that there are different flowers that coordinate with your birth month?" 

Bob had heard of this before. "Sure," he told her, wondering where she was going with this. 

Her voice sounded a little rough, but her fingers were still soft in his hair as she said, "My parents were both born in January. Carnations were their birth flowers. That's why I have the tattoo. And kind of why I love the gas station flowers."

"Oh," Bob said, about to add that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. But then she rolled a little closer to him as he sat up, and she pointed to the other three flowers mixed in.

"The morning glory is for my sister's birthday. The chrysanthemum is mine. And the pretty red rose is for Everett's birthday in June. I got that one the day after he was born. It's actually my favorite one."

"It's beautiful," Bob told her, running his thumb along the chrysanthemum and meeting her eyes. 

"Listen," she told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm protective of my sister. She took care of me when our parents both died. I moved in with her while she finished college. She shared her bed with me and made sure I ate. She sold my parent's house and gave me most of the money to pay for nursing school and a new, reliable car. And the fact that I can occasionally help her out a little bit now is really important to me. So if you think I need to castrate Bradley, you should probably just tell me now, okay?"

Bob laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe a kick to the nuts, but castration is probably not necessary, Honey. He's beating himself up enough, I can tell you that much. And I honestly think Bradley would jump in front of a moving car for Everett." 

"See, now that's what I like to hear," she told him, sitting up and draping her arms around him. Her skin was a little sticky from his cum, and Bob let her push him back until he was laying on the floor underneath her this time. She settled her chin in his chest and looked up at him. "Now tell me when your birthday is, Lieutenant Cute Glasses. I want to know how your flower would look in my tattoo bouquet."

Bob could feel his cheeks warming up. She wanted to know what a tattoo in his honor would look like on her perfect skin. And now she was just lounging right there on him, naked as the day she was born and just completely flawless. And she was waiting, just like she always did. Waiting until he was ready to say what he was thinking, but never rushing him.

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I have the most embarrassing birthday," he told her, and she cocked her head to the side. 

"Oh," she sighed. "April twentieth?" 

"No," he told her. "Worse. Leap day. February 29th."

"Oh! No, that's such a good one, Bob!" she insisted. "And your flower would be a violet. So pretty!"

But he just kept shaking his head. "Mo, you don't understand, Honey."

"Then explain it to me," she whispered, kissing his chest and stroking his skin. 

"My name is Bob. B O B. Bob. I got the nickname Baby On Board during flight training a decade ago, because I was technically five years old...."

She blinked at him a few times before she burst into laughter. Bob waited while Molly rolled around on the floor, gripping her sides and gasping for air. "And technically how old are you now?" she managed to ask through her laughter.

Bob waited until she calmed down a bit more. "Eight."

"Eight!" she screeched. "Don't say that to me! We've had sex!" Her laughter had Bob chuckling too now. "How old would you be if you had a birthday every year?" she asked, eyes wide as she giggled.

"Thirty two."

"Thirty two! Perfect," she sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm not going to get arrested then."

Bob rolled his eyes and whispered, "I think a new flower would look pretty good in your bouquet."

And now Bob was thinking about a violet tattoo on her skin next to the other pretty flowers as Molly curled up on his bedroom floor with her arm wrapped around him. 

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

Bob without Molly....it just doesn't make sense. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 5

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[metamorphesque]

poems that remind me of monet’s paintings 

Monet's Haystacks by Robert Bly

Monet's Waterlilies by Robert Hayden

Entering the Kingdom by Mary Oliver

Give Me Your Hand by Gabriela Mistral

Flower-Gathering by Robert Frost

Water and Flowers by Ameen Rihani

Early Spring by Rainer Maria Rilke

Notebook Fragments by Ocean Vuong

[The flowers and my love,] by Ono no Komachi

Love Song by Rainer Maria Rilke

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

the poem is a dream telling you its time by Marwa Helal

Morning Poem by Mary Oliver

The Spring Has Many Silences by Laura Riding Jackson

When Spring by Alberto Caeiro

buy me a coffee

[germanpostwarmodern]

The Neoplasticist paintings of Piet Mondrian were among the earliest artworks I admired as a kid. In my teenage years the passion for his art intensified and at one point I wanted to study all of his works, from his earliest to his latest New York paintings. Consequently I asked my parents to buy me Mondrian’s catalogue raisonné in exchange for good grades. Luckily they agreed.

Compiled by Robert P. Welsh and Joop M. Joosten, experts on Mondrian’s naturalistic and abstract works respectively, the 1998 catalogue raisonné is a treasure trove for anyone with a passion for the backside of artworks: exhibitions, sales, owners and literature are listed for each of his works and add up to comprehensive biographies that are no less fascinating than the actual artwork. I particularly love the drawings and sketches included as they offer additional insights into Mondrian’s working process and the deep contemplation preceding each of his seemingly simple abstract works. Today Mondrian’s catalogue raisonné is also digitally available and can be accessed by anyone via pietmondrian.rkdmonographs.nl, a wonderful project that is much easier accessible and searchable than the present tomes of 7+ kilos.

[dailyrothko]

ik its taboo to ask but, what do you see in rothkos work? Why do you like it?

It's not taboo! But I have answered this many times before so, I might direct you here or here for random examples of my answers and just add a bit, perhaps retreading...

Rothko gets singled out for being famous and looking simple (though it's not not) but I don't feel the criteria is different than it would be for any other artist.

My favorite artists, Munch, Bearden, Hokusai, Bill Traylor, Ruth Asawa etc., what do they have in common? Just the basics of form, color and light and the emotion that is carried through them.

I don't feel like the public always has great taste but I do subscribe to the idea that Rothko would not have endured if his work did not have meaning to some. And some of those people were Joan Mitchell, Brice Marden, Helen Frankenthaler, Motherwell, Pollock, Elaine De Kooning, Tracey Emin, Robert Ryman etc. Other fine artists blown away by these seemingly simplistic works. This doesn't mean you have like Rothko or any artist but you know here we are the the Rothko detractors kind of amuse me, not for their taste but rather for their arguments.

I think a lot of people just aren't exposed in person to a wide variety of art and when you see things in the flesh, so to speak, it's a wildly different experience than the world of looking at computers. And art museums are also places people react to thinks as a group and it's an interesting footnote to see how art affects people, sometimes it can make you think.

I have devoted so much to time to Rothko, sometimes I have asked myself why, maybe he's not as good as I think, I see them everyday, it can be tiring to research and post and be involved with it.

And then, I see one again or, as in the last two weeks, I see shots from the Paris show (I couldn't afford to go but they did invite me) and again I am struck by what a really exceptional artist he was. How no one else does what he does and how I have a great feeling for his particular expression.

And Rothko the person, who could bloviate occasionally, was an exceptional character of great dedication to art and to his idea. I have known lots of artists and his intense commitment to an idea, that was not popular, that was not making him money, that had not been done before, was a relentless pursuit. I admire that too.

Detractors would have to you believe silly things about art, embarrassing things not seated in the normal "Does nothing for me" argument which is a great argument about any artist. Rather they want to say it's the emperor's new clothes and frankly, while that's cool if you believe it, the technical merit argument is so hollow and silly, I never even know what to say to these people. The reductive standard is basically the best painting of a cat is the one that looks the most like a cat, and if you believe that, buy a camera and save yourself some money.

Even yesterday with the Christie's sale, and the orange/yellow Rothko, which is certainly not one of my favorites, Photographer Mark Cashion (thanks Mark) sent me this shot. And I was just impressed again, kind of in the opposite way that his detractors feel. They see someone doing nothing and I see someone creating a huge amount from very little.

Thank you so much for the question , sorry, as always to prattle on.

[williamedwardparry]

Twelfth-cake and riddles on HMS Erebus

A Twelfth Night celebration illustrated by Robert Seymour from The Book of Christmas (1836) by Thomas Kibble Hervey – note the cake in the left part of the picture and the cards in people's hands.

In his entry for January 6th, 1841 in his Antarctic-journal-slash-autobiography, Robert McCormick (who was surgeon on the Erebus on the Antarctic expedition) makes this reference to a Twelfth-cake eaten by the officers:

Wednesday, 6th. — Being Twelfth-night, all the officers took tea in the cabin with Captain Ross, and partook of a Twelfth-cake, which had been given him in a tin case, and was to have been opened on the 6th of January, 1840, but had been reserved for entering the ice. It was accompanied by the customary painted figures on paper and sugar, with enigmas to solve, which afforded us all some amusement and laughter; to aid which we had a glass of cherry brandy each.

(The age of the cake always surprised me a little, but apparently, according to the 19th century Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery, fruit cake “will improve with keeping – indeed, confectioners do not use their cakes until they have been made some months; and if a cake is cut into soon after it is made it will crumble.” (x))

I had no idea that “painted figures on paper and sugar” were a customary part of the Twelfth-cake tradition, so I had a poke around the web and was delighted to learn that Twelfth-cakes came with various figurines for decoration. They were made from moulded sugar paste, with some depicting people, some not.

In the Every-Day Book of William Hone (1827), Twelfth-cakes are described as decorated with “Stars, castles, kings, cottages, dragons, trees, fish, palaces, cats, dogs, churches, lions, milkmaids, knights, serpents, and innumerable other forms, in snow-white confectionery, painted with variegated colours”.

An advertisement for “well executed Twelfth-Night characters”, 1842 (The Australian). Queen Victoria’s Twelfth-cake, 1849 (ILN).

The Twelfth-cakes themselves were generally large, domed, and heavy, full of nuts, dried fruits, and spices. Hone, again, calls them “Dark with citron and plums and heavy as gold”. (A recipe from 1802 is available here, and one from 1830 here – the latter promises a cake 12-14 inches across.)

You could also buy sets of cards with Twelfth Night figures and riddles on them, which were sold in packs. In the late 18th century, it was customary for the party to draw lots with the cards – and whichever character a person was assigned, they would have to play until midnight.

An extant pack of Park's Twelfth-Night characters, 1843. (The Puzzle Museum)

The resolution on these is only just about legible, but here's a close-up of four of them and their solutions from the sheet:

Transcriptions: From left to right: SIR OLIVER OGLE. Why is a lover like a gooseberry? BETRICE BOUQUET. When is a cheese most like college? CHARLES CUTEMDOWN. Why are Jews at a feast like a brewer? PATTY PRIMROSE. Why is a dandy like a haunch of venison?

Solutions: He is easily made a fool of. / When it is eaten. [Eton] / He brews [Hebrews] drink here. / He is a bit of a buck.

———

Sources:

The Puzzle Museum https://www.puzzlemuseum.com/month/picm08/2008-04-parks.htm

The Dickens Museum blog https://dickensmuseum.com/blogs/charles-dickens-museum/dickens-and-the-spirit-of-twelfth-cake-past-by-pen-vogler

Elizabeth Gaskell House blog https://elizabethgaskellhouse.co.uk/twelfth-night-cakes/

Sydney Living Museums blog https://blogs.sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/cook/let-them-eat-fruit-cake/

Foods of England blog http://www.foodsofengland.co.uk/twelfthcake.htm

Primary sources:

Hone, William, The Every-Day Book (1827) - Project Gutenberg

Kibble Hervey, Thomas, The Book of Christmas (1836) - Project Gutenberg

Kitchiner, William, The Cook's Oracle (1830) - Project Gutenberg

McCormick, Robert, Voyages of Discovery in the Arctic and Antarctic Seas (1884) - Hathi Trust

The Australian, January 8th, 1842 - Trove Newspaper Archive

Illustrated London News, 13th January 1849 - Hathi Trust

[theehorsepusssy]

TheeHorsepussys Portland : Vaseline Alley aka Stark Street aka Harvey Weinstein ( I always get that mixed up) Harvey Milk Blvd

Documenting some gay-ass history for the kids

Red Arrow - 2 blocks to Touche. Not gay but spent most of the 90s in that bar. Fancy looking dining room/pool room but mostly service industry clientele. Hard to find a spot to do drugs discreetly.

Green - Everyday Music. Where to sell vinyl for dope money.

Yellow - Big BIG abandoned, scary building. Looked haunted. Was eventually renovated. But gave you the heebie-jeebies walking past it at night. Gay bashing zone

Green Arrow - The City Nightclub. Underage nightclub. Chicken Hawks(is that Gus Van Sant?), lots of drugs, good DJ downstairs, GREAT DJ upstairs

Red - The Henry Weinhard Brewery (demolished) Made the area smell really, really awful. Gagging thinking of it.

(Stark Street starts to the right here. It looks like they built some weird barrier in the intersection..probably cuz drunk gays in middle of street)

Orange - The Bathhouse. Home away from home. I would sell rip-off size bags of meth to subsidize my habit. Sucked a huge penis here. Gagging thinking of it. Gay bar downstairs was called either Flossies or Silverado or both. Male strippers. Would buy my shitty little bags of dope.

Blue Arrow - at one moment in the 90s, a sex club I think owned by Fantasy Video. Robert would meet his side piece there . The director Todd Haynes, I fuzzily recall reading, was a patron. I went once. Weird vibe. There was a plaque on the wall outside the entrance commemorating the recording of Louie, Louie.

Orange - The Eagle. Bar where it was common to have sex. I saw a guy take a foot up his butt. Cops started randomly coming in to cock block. There is a new bar called the Eagle up in NE Portland up by the Heroin Fred Meyer (I suppose they all are now)

Blue - Transient hotel above the store I hated buying cigarettes from but can't recall why. Maybe it was expensive.

Green - Greasy spoon called Roxys. Horrible breakfast food 24/7. I think it used to be down the street on Everett. Had a tiny basement bar. Moved to Vaseline Alley in 90s. Had ginormous picture of Quentin Tarantino or some shit. Very 90s

Yellow - Three Sisters (Six Titties) dive bar/gay bar. Never really went there. At some point was a male strippers bar. Robert had me escort one of his side pieces there. Kid thought the stripper was really into him. I tried to explain. I won $600 on the poker machine and drove the kid home.

Orange - Django Records. Large amounts of cheap used records. 3 for a dollar bins! I bought Eyehategod In the Name of Suffering here. Also the Cruising soundtrack...33cents!

Red - Fancy, expensive hotel. Yell really loud underneath the windows. They like that. Cops always parked along this stretch. Drunk gays got their first DUIs around here.

Mint- block of amnesia. I don't think it existed

Red - Boxes. Gay bar where you did lines of coke/mda/meth in the bathroom without hassle. TV sets with Oprah or Steel Magnolias, shit like that on. Spartacus Leather fetish store was down a couple doors. Inside Boxes, you could take a wood paneled passage through the fish restaurant kitchen ( I don't think anyone ever ate there) and end up at.....

Green - the Brig. Named because dance floor had bars around it like a jail cell. Imagine the creative dance moves as the queens grappled bars, ass out while Madonna songs played on a loop. Your meth dealer could be found here, doing a fan dance. Don't wear black. Semen stains show up under the blacklights. (or do)

Yellow - the house paint store. Eventually became the Panorama in the age of MDMA. Rave type music. Went there once to meet a dealer. Obnoxious experience.

White - Silverado. Country Western night most nights. My roommate dj'd andtaught line dancing but dance floor was like 10 sq ft so it was just the gays holding hands and boot scootin' in a little circle for eternity. Bar I could get into underage.

Orange - Ben Stark Hotel. Like outta Barton Fink. But really,really seedy. Had some weird sex in there. Now a boutique hotel owned by some Donald Trump guy Gordon Someone who did something once. Probably haunted.

Brown - Scandals. Beer /wine bar. Big windows so you can people-watch and talk shit. Used to go in there underage until I got thrown out snorting a rail of MDA off the tabletop. Had electronic darts and video poker in the 90s. Me and Robert had a domestic dispute there.

Red - row of funky vintage/antique shops. Someone used to broadcast a pirate radio station somewhere around there in the 90s

Blue - Portland Underground. Small venue had some big shows early 90s. Top floor is where I swear I saw Econochrist play. But it's an office building. Maybe confused

Yellow. OBryant Square aka Paranoid Park. Skateboarders and street drugs. I got "chased" by AF Nazis here. Probably more like I ran my fat ass up the street after this girl I knew screamed "run!" And they probably just laughed. I didn't look back. I think it's demolished now.

White arrow- up the block toward the Galleria. Second floor toilet was really cruisy. Careful of cockblocking rent-a-cops. Kiosk by cafe I think was only place downtown to buy pipe to smoke pot

[all-pacas]

wrote this for something i'm working on; it didn't fit but i saved the scene. sad chase backstory headcanon, i guess:

-

What made you want to be a doctor? is a common enough question.

He knows Cameron’s story: to help people, and be the one to help — and Foreman’s: to help people, but feel superior about it. Knows House’s, more or less (to solve people, to understand and take apart and know), and Chase supposes he’d be closer to the latter example than the former if want had ever factored in.

The truth: Chase has known he would to go to medical school since he was four and fell out the upstairs window.

He remembers the day dimly. The room vividly. His father’s study was the only room in the house that locked from the outside, and even then his father had rarely been home long enough to use it. Stately desk, wooden chair. A small closet packed with banker’s boxes, shelves lined with textbooks and journals. In those days, Chase had still thought of himself as Robbie, and Robbie’d eventually thought to stash a throw pillow in the closet for when he fell asleep waiting to be let out. Spend hours looking at pictures in textbooks, struggling to read the dense medical texts. His first year of medical school he’d been made fun of, pronouncing terms wrong, more used to seeing them in print than heard.

That day, he'd needed the toilet. Banged on the door, shouted for his mother. He’d grown desperate, and afraid of punishment if he’d wet himself or made a mess. The house had a large screened porch spanning the first floor. He must have thought he could climb out the window, onto the porch roof. Jump or climb down onto the lawn, to freedom. Sometimes he thinks it’s surprising he hadn’t tried sooner. Sometimes he thinks it’s worse he never tried again.

He can recall — or imagine he recalls — his rush of excitement as he’d gotten the window open, and the incredible heat of the roof on his bare feet in his moment of triumph. How big he’d felt, how high up and free.

He doesn’t remember falling, but he had.

His mother found him on the gravel outside and called an ambulance. He’d been taken to his father’s hospital: his father had been furious. Less about the neglect and more the embarrassment of it, the nurses gossiping about his wife’s blood alcohol level. He remembers the plastic furniture of Pediatrics: the tropical landscape painted onto the far wall, bright orange curtains on the windows, and his parents arguing in whispers. Broken arm, broken shoulder. Cuts and abrasions. He tells girls he got the scar from a shark, sometimes. If they seem likely to buy it.

It had been a nurse who’d fussed over him as his parents argued, told him how brave he was being, made Robbie feel like he was. Your dad’s a great doctor, love; he’s looking after you personally, she’d lied. I expect when you grow up you’ll want to be just like him!

This had been enough to catch his father’s attention across the room, turning away from the palm trees and his wife. Of course he will, he’d said.

Chase had been too young to wonder: did he mean be a doctor, or want to be like him?

Robert, his father had added, his voice icy with anger, is a good boy.

His mother was crying, he remembers.

-

When Robbie was twelve, a classmate of his had his tonsils out, missed exams, and came back to school a week later bragging about how his parents had bought him a SNES for the trouble. They’ve long since lost touch, but Chase has been using his story for years.

[another-little-hippie]

thanks @midnightinwales for the suggestion!

what i think your dream date would be based off your fav lz member (w descriptions):

Jonsey

Picnic date! You would plan to paint or draw, but after a couple glasses of rosé you guys can’t stop talking and giggling. the sun starts to set, but instead of packing up, you decide to take a walk, barefoot, to find the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

Robert

Flea market date! You guys go for coffee and a treat before hand, and maybe you light up in the car before. You end up buying the silliest stuff, and finding some awesome records. You end the day eating gross flea market food (but it tastes amazing to you) and doing a haul of what you guys found.

Bonzo

Fruit picking date! You drive out to a small town, and spend the morning walking the fields of the farm, finding the best and ripest fruit. Afterwards you go to town and have a couple beers at the local pub, but you couldn’t leave the fruit so you also just end up eating some of it right there at the bar. No one says anything because you guys look so happy.

Jimmy

Dinner date! You go to the fanciest restaurant you’ve been to in your life, and you actually feel out of place, but your date makes you so comfortable and happy. You start to really feel like you deserve this luxury (which you do!) Afterwards you go back to their place, and browse through their enormous library, exchanging excerpts and playing vintage records.

[mooseung]

xdinary heroes as dog with a blog characters

the best show to ever air on disney channel yup

i was just feeling a bit silly

gunil as bennett

father

makes corny dad jokes all the time and then laughs to himself

makes decisions following his heart

reassures that he knows what he’s doing when raising the kids because he’s a child psychologist

his kids are built different and it doesn’t work out

will do embarrassing things bc he loves his family that much

jungsu as ellen

mom

was not consulted with before buying the kids the dog

silly is his middle name

questions gunil/bennett all the time

has seen the dog talk multiple times, just thinks that he’s going crazy

gets bullied by the dog

gaon as chloe

crazy

has a big brain and gets away with a lot because of it

has almost told the parents the dog talks on multiple occasions because he’s bored

yelling all the time

has princess privilege 👑

chaos always on his mind

o.de as avery

the most sane in the house (barely)

very artsy and paints on his bedroom walls

a fashionista

the one who said its important to keep the fact that the dog talks a secret

also the one who freaks out whenever someone questions him about the dog

spoils and takes care of the dog bc he luvs him the most

junhan as stan the dog

only talks to his closest pals

since he can’t talk all the time he journals his day through his blog

emotional support stuffed animal (robert and bunny)

is very wise and everyone comes to him for advice

will do anything for his family

likes to drive the parents insane sometimes when he’s bored

jooyeon as tyler

the one that’s there for fun

his hair attracts EVERYONE

and then everyone freaks out when an inch is chopped off

also attracts people with his skills

a family man before anything !!!

listens to the dog when asking for advice and then gets into deeper trouble

kinda never knows where he is ever

[samiwife]

I will always say that I love the way you write because it's really beautiful (I've read them about 10 times) Could you write some headcanons with Robert Plant or Jimmy Page? Because you're really cool at writing headcanons (I admire you😓😓)

Oh my god thank you so much!!!!! I love writing headcanons! Thanks 4 the support <3 Hope you enjoy <3

Headcanons and Preferences 𓆩⟡𓆪 (Ft: Robert Plant)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

Would always sleep in and you'd bring breakfast in bed for him

Collects records of his favorite bands

Walks around the house with a half-opened shirt exposing his chest

Great with kids

Always asks for kids

Cares a lot about his hair

Has a lot of hair products

Dances a lot in the living room

Constantly moving around otherwise he goes insane

Loves nature

Loves going on walks

Wears a lot of jewelry

For some reason he loves goats

Tries to work out but just gives up

Loves traveling

Would sing for you when you're sad

Would take care of you when you're sick

Sometimes he plays soccer in the backyard

Reads late at night

Loves fruit, especially oranges or apples

Always smells like tea, especially Earl Gray Tea

You always play with his hair

You also always mess with his hair

You tie up his hair in different ways

When he's sick he always drinks tea and listens to records

Sometimes he makes his own bracelets and necklaces

Rides his bike down the street to go to a nearby cafe

Tries to play guitar for you but gets mocked by Jimmy for not being good

Smokes cigarettes outside so he doesn't bother you

Gets jealous easily

Craves attention from you

Would stare down the person he's jealous of

Would make it known he's mad or jealous

When he's horny, he pulls you in closer and whimpers in your ear

Very slutty in bed

Moans so LOUD

VERY good during sex

He always loves it when you pull his hair during sex

Loves swimming

Eats scones a lot and drinks a lot of tea

Loves clothes shopping for you and himself

Holds your hand a lot

Has SUPER warm hands

SIngs anytime and anywhere

Would stare you up and down when taking off your clothes

Sometimes you cut his hair

He always talks in big words

Has the softest lips

Also, he has the prettiest eyes

HAS MAJOR BIG DICK ENERGY AND HE DOES HAVE ONE

Loves buying paintings and making some

Sleeps like a sick Victorian child (HAHA I'LL STOP)

Wears tight pants to show off his "size"

When you're injured, he'll carry you on his back and take you to safety

Always makes tea for you

Loves lying in the grass with you

Stealing his shirts is a must

Makes funny faces while singing

Winks at you constantly

Kisses on the neck and cheek are constant

Would say "baby" 20 times a day

Sometimes he calls you "mama"

You think he has a mommy kink (HAHAH I'M SORRY)

You sometimes think that he and Jimmy have a thing with each other

Sometimes he wears big fur hats to cover up his bad hair days

Lastly, he always cares about you. Even if you're mad at him. He'll try his best to make you happy again. He'll buy gifts, he'll hug you and kiss you to make you feel better. He will do everything in his power to make you love and notice him

THANKS 4 READING <3 TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES <3333

[ymaohoh]

Yankee Candle Baby - Fic

Eddie wants to buy something nice for Chrissy. Candles are romantic, right?  Oneshot (See at the end for notes)

Word count: 3,730

Chapter: 1/1.

No trigger warnings. No real plot. Just fluff and lust. 

Also on Archive of Our Own.

--

Oh yeah. He was most definitely out of his comfort zone. He was so far out of the zone that he felt like he was standing on a sinking ship surrounded by menacing hungry sharks. 

The mall. The fucking mall. On this perfectly fine Saturday he was here of all places. 

The small town of Hawkins boasted exactly one mall which meant it was unfortunately one of the busier places to be at the weekends, though at this precise time of the day he was thankful to see most of the shoppers were old folks, and noisy kids. His peers (and he used this term very loosely) would likely show up later when it was time to…God knows…go to the movies? Get a burger? Hit the arcade? Whatever it was the average American teenager did at the weekend with their friends or dates. As if he gave a flying fuck. 

No, he hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. Not because he cared about their opinion - he was Eddie Munson, after all, have you met him? - but because he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as humanly possible. He was on a secret D&D quest with one singular (but important) purpose...and as soon as he found his holy grail he would race back to his beat-up van and get the hell out of here. 

His leather boots scuffed on the linoleum floor (decorated with some bright nonsense pattern) as he walked forwards reluctantly into what he considered the jaws of hell. Eddie was not typically a morning person and it seemed too early in the day for the overly bright lights that lined the walls or the music blasting out of stores that he could only assume people who hung here found ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’. He ignored the posters that lined the windows advertising whatever shit was for sale inside and kept his eyes open for one specific store. 

Harrington said it would be right at the end of the first floor by the food court…and here…finally. Here it was. The walls to the store were painted bubblegum pink and unsurprisingly the patrons inside were all teenage girls wearing pastels and preppy makeup. 

Hell was apparently the cover of Teen Beat or Just Seventeen, the magazines that he often found rolled up in this van nowadays. 

Eddie looked at the bright and cheery store in question with something akin to repulsion (could he seriously hear Robert Palmer being played on the stereo behind the counter?) before taking a deep breath and plummeting inside before he could change his mind. 

Addicted to love? Apparently he fucking was because it was the only reason he was here. The only reason he’d step inside a capitalist cesspit that was so intense and cheery and uncomfortable to him. The object of said addiction? 

A tiny cheerleader who looked at him like he was her God-damned hero. 

Chrissy was everything to him, even though they’d only technically been a couple  (or ‘going steady’ as she reminded him) for a month now. Honestly? It felt longer. It felt like she’d always been a part of his life from the moment he first laid eyes on her neat strawberry-blonde ponytail. If you asked him if he could remember a time before her he’d draw a blank. He’d had a life without her, sure, but damn if he could remember much about it. He didn’t really want to. She’d woken him up like he was Snow White and she was the prince and life was now all singing cartoon birds, rainbows and sunsets. She was like the fucking sun itself. 

Best of all? She was his. All his. They navigated through the highschool gossip, the stares, the outright rude comments that made him want to ball his fists like how the hell did that loser pull someone like her? Is she crazy? To be fair, it wasn’t a stupid question. He’d asked himself the same thing over and over. They’d laughed when hearing the suggestions of blackmail and magic and he’d fallen a bit in love with her when she admitted there could be magic at play. 

If he thought it would make her smile (and seriously her smile always had the power to totally pierce through his chest like an arrow) then he would most gladly step into whatever hellish landscape needed. He’d move mountains for her. Battle demons. All that cliche romantic stuff. 

Shit, he couldn’t wait to see her smile again. Maybe he was addicted. 

Later on today she was coming to his trailer and they’d be all alone as his uncle was working a night shift at the plant. They’d arranged it so casually yesterday when he drove her home from school - ‘I’ll be there after I finish my chem homework, okay? Maybe six…seven?’ ‘Sure thing. Come round whenever’ - but despite the casual tone he really wanted to do something extra nice for her. He had an idea about making her dinner and setting it up all fancy on the table with the forks and spoons and whatever lined up in the so-called right places. Hell, he’d even bought some wine for them both and Harrington said it was a good bottle (for under $5).

He wouldn’t call Harrington a friend exactly, but he wasn’t a stranger either. He was also one of the only guys he sort of hung around with who actually had experience with women. Eddie would die if any of the kids found out about this (though really they knew how soft Eddie was for Chrissy. It was almost nauseating to be in the same room as them). Harrington has also recommended getting candles. 

Girl’s love them, he’d said confidently. He’d pieced everything together immediately when he ran into Eddie at the store buying fancy healthy ingredients and wine. Eddie was a beer guy usually - wine had to only mean he was trying to impress someone. Trust me, man. There’s a new place in the mall that all the girls talk about. Sounds seriously lame but if you’re going with Chrissy the queen Cunningham then you better up your game. No offense.  

So here he was. Like he said, he’d do anything for Chrissy. Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone and doing something different. 

Just like when she surprised him last Tuesday by showing up at The Hideout to hear his band for the first time. She’d looked so out of place in her floral dress beside the regulars who stuck to black and ripped denim as a rule, but she’d cheered loudly (his own personal cheerleader) and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. She really was a fucking gem. 

“Hi. Can I help you?”

A friendly voice came out of nowhere and he looked up to see a salesgirl eyeing him curiously. He couldn’t blame her for looking at him in that way. Next to the other customers he stood out like a sore thumb in his jeans and leather jacket. Still, he had a reputation of bravado to uphold and he wasn’t the kind of shitty person who was rude to staff. Her name badge said ‘Becky’ in a tiny purple font. She looked to be around Chrissy’s age. 

Becky, you’re going to be my best friend right now. 

“You sure can. Candles? Word on the street is you sell them.”

She smiled and led him to the back of the store past all the scented bath crap, the bright cushions with tassels, the art-deco type figurines, and other trendy kitschy items that teenage girls seemed to adore having in their bedrooms. She led him to a counter at the back which was full of the promised candles. Several heads turned in surprise as he moved around but they soon went back to whatever little item that so fascinated them. 

Ah shit. 

“This is the only brand we sell as it’s the most popular. Is there one you have specifically in mind or do you need help picking one out?”

She was assuming he’d been sent here by his girlfriend (or sister or mom) to collect something on their behalf because they were tied up somewhere else. In which case he’d know exactly what it was he needed. How many boyfriends (or brothers or dads) had been in the same pitiful position as he was now? Becky probably spotted it right away which is why she was being so helpful. Golden star for Becky, he thought. 

(He did love the term boyfriend though. Chrissy’s boyfriend. Chrissy’s boyfriend who would run errands for her. Ah, bliss). 

He fixed her with a smile, saying honestly… “I haven’t got a clue, Becky. Honestly. I’m just trying to find something nice for my girlfriend.”

(His girlfriend. His girlfriend Chrissy. The person who braided his favourite bandana into her hair, marking her as such). 

“Well that’s adorable,” Becky commented. The smile she wore now seemed far more genuine. “In that case let me help. What does your girlfriend use them for? Reading? Putting on during a bath? General ambience?”

Dude. Do not think of Chrissy in a bath. Not Chrissy in a bath wet with water and soap and…

“I’m fixing her dinner tonight,” he explained, turning to more pure and wholesome thoughts. “So something for that? I thought it might look…nice?”

This was hell. Absolute hell. 

Still, two girls who were standing by all the bath crap nearby let out little sighs at his stilted phrasing. Becky looked pretty impressed too. Wow, was he nailing this? And was it just him or did his voice get softer when he spoke about anything to do with Chrissy? 

“I’d go with a pillar candle then, for sure. You can place it in the middle of the table,” Becky suggested. She waved towards the right side of the display. “What’s her favourite smell?”

“Uh…well, she likes loads of things…”

And this was the trickiest bit. He didn’t know. Chrissy liked all sorts of smells and tastes. He’d noticed her happy sigh when she smelled the football field after the grass was freshly cut, and she said she liked the smell of ‘new books’. How could they make candles out of that? 

“I see. Well, maybe test some? See which ones remind you the most of her. I need to go and help that customer over there, but I’ll be by the counter if you need anything else, okay?”

“Sure…thanks.”

This wasn’t going to be so quick and easy as he’d hoped. 

Who the hell needed so many candles? Why were there so many sizes? What the hell was Home for Holidays? He managed to stifle a sigh. He focused on the taller candles to the right where Becky had waved, agreeing that they were probably best suited for his purpose (and would last longer - you know, if he and Chrissy forgot all about them in a daze of frantic making out). Wait - was his home at serious risk of burning down tonight? 

It was a herculean effort to drag his mind away from Chrissy’s spectacular lips and back to the mission at hand. Really. He should be awarded some prize for this. 

Right. Maybe focus on scent like Becky said? That was the whole point of candles now the lightbulb made them otherwise obsolete, right? He scanned the labels. What smell would Chrissy like? 

Using his keen powers of logic and intellect (sharpened recently with Chrissy’s tutorage) he noted that the candles seemed to be arranged in a specific order. The ones on the top shelf sounded like flowery ones. 

Lavender? French Lavender? Lilac Blossoms? Lily of the Valley? He held the latter up to his nose but yanked it away quickly. No way. It smelled like something his grandmother would buy. From what very limited information Chrissy offered about her batshit family they seemed to uphold ‘good old-fashioned conservative values’ like most of middle America and Chrissy herself unknowingly still toed some traditional ideals (though she’d hate any comparison to her crusty bitch of a mother). For example, she was the one who wanted to ‘go steady’ and go on ‘dates’. She also made them wait for date three before…well, what she would very cutely describe as ‘PG stuff’ stuff. As for Eddie? Hell, from day one he’d wanted to throw her over his shoulder cave man style and fuck her on the floor of his van (where she’d first gloriously uttered the perfect words ‘yes, Eddie, I like like you too’) . 

Floral smells seemed to go hand in hand with those traditional ideals…yet Chrissy was showing day by day she didn’t want to be held back by that crap any longer. It started with baby steps - hell, dating him a biggie - but who knew what the future held? Chrissie wanted to go to college after graduation and instead of writing ‘baby-maker extraordinaire’ on her applications (as her family wanted) she confessed to wanting more. Maybe teaching? Maybe social work? She had the brains, for sure. His Chrissy was a Fourth of July sparkler, burning bright and sparkling. She could be whatever she wanted to be. She could have both a career and a family if she wanted because she admitted she did like kids (though the idea of Chrissy holding another little Chrissy in her arms made him feel things he never thought possible). With a fond smile he placed the candle back and moved along. 

White fig, Sicilian Lemon, Sea Salt and Sage, Sage and Citrus, Olive and Thyme. The next shelf seemed to hold the candles that smelled like food. Which was bizarre when he really thought about it. He sampled them each. After all, he was buying a candle to go with dinner so didn’t it make sense for it to be food related? 

He quite liked the citrus smell but he smiled when he saw the label for Thyme. He thought about the first time (ha) they’d cooked together at his trailer a few weeks back, back before they were dating. They’d still been at that bullshit flirty-but-not stage, both too scared of admitting their real feelings in case they ruined the tentative and unexpected friendship they both secretly cherished. Dinner hadn’t been anything special - they’d been hanging out watching a movie with accidental (or not in his case) brushing of limbs and secret glances to her legs (she’d been wearing her cheerleader skirt, for crying out loud - he was not made of stone) - when they’d grown hungry and started fixing some pasta. Chrissy had been awkward when it came to food back then and it was something he’d picked up on right away. She would always make excuses not to eat in front of him but her growling stomach had on this occasion betrayed her big time. He’d heated up the pasta and asked her to pass the thyme to stir into the tomato sauce and she’d eventually admitted to not having a clue what that herb was. He’d been so careful to show not even the teensiest amount of surprise in his eyes, and instead patiently showed her how to use it in cooking. It was apparent that Chrissy only ate the same things day after day and it was all bland and unseasoned. 

Less calories, right? 

Since then she’d come along leaps and bounds with her eating, though it was still something present in the back of her mind like a cobweb they couldn’t quite dust away. Though he worried about the future - what would his dumbass do while Chrissy excelled? - one thing he knew for certain was right after graduation (maybe while still wearing those dorky robes) he would bundle Chrissy into his van and drive her far away from the influence of her asshole mother. If she let him he would dedicate his life to feeding and caring for her like she deserved. He hoped she’d be game. 

He looked away from this shelf. They still had some work to do in this area. 

He liked Candy Cane Lane, Cranberry Twist, French Vanilla, Pink Grapefruit…He smelled them appreciatively even though they were very sickly sweet. He liked his coffee black but he knew Chrissy preferred hers laden with sugar and cream (now she actually let herself indulge more). 

Chrissy was sweetness personified in human form really. All sweet smiles and warm skin and caresses. She was popular for her looks, her kindness, her cheery nature. She also had the glorious ability to look past the dark parts of life (and in people) and see the goodness and the light. It was a trait that Eddie simply didn’t have and he marvelled whenever he was privileged enough to see it swell inside her. No matter how many times life seemed to try and beat it out of her, Chrissy was a God-damned angel who got right back on her feet and was unapologetically kind and sweet and dazzling. Eddie knew he would do anything in his power to keep that flame inside of her bright and fucking destroy anyone who tried to take advantage or smother it. 

(Was he an attack dog now? A bull terrier? Why not. She already held his metaphoric leash. Where she went, he went gladly). 

Chrissy had looked at him - him, Eddie, the guy who was all swagger and sarcasm and enjoyed guts and gore. The person who was labelled a freak, an outcast, a junior delinquent - and seen someone she wanted to be with. Her sweet pretty smile seemed to shine on him and say you’re my person and you are good and you are mine.  

Hell, he was going to ravish her later on. 

Strawberry  

Oh yes. We have a winner. This would be the part where quiz show lights went off and heaps of cash fell from the ceiling. 

He didn’t need to sample this candle because he knew right away this was the one which reminded him the most of Chrissy Cunningham. 

Of her fucking perfect little mouth. 

Chrissy had a habit of wearing lipgloss and it tended to be of the fruity variety which was A-OK with him as long as he was the one tasting it. He’d drown himself in buckets of strawberries if it meant he could once more brush his tongue against that soft velvet cupid bow. The rush he got from kissing Chrissy was better than any illicit high, and he knew as soon as he’d sampled just a little bit that it was game over. He was hooked for life. Chrissy was now in his veins - channelling through his body - and keeping his small insignificant heart beating. 

Their first kiss hadn’t been planned but it was fucking spectacular all the same. So were their other firsts. All of them etched into his memory forever. He might casually use the word fucking to describe what they were doing nearly every single night in his trailer, but they both knew it ran much deeper than that. They were hooked on each other. Couldn’t get enough of each other. It made them frantic and careless at times. Though she swore him to secrecy (blushing as she did so because of course good girls would never) he would never tell another soul about the times they’d frantically fucked in the back of his van, or on the bench in the woods where they re-met. They’d even fucked hurriedly behind The Hideout and the image of him lifting Chrissy against the brick wall with her long legs wrapped around his waist, was something he thought about a lot. He remembered how her pretty lips looked when she came for him. 

And before that when they first uttered the word fuck infront of him. They’d been sitting on the lawn with their friends at the time, and everyone had cheered at Chrissy Cunningham saying a bad word. He’d whistled and cheered too, though it was incredibly hot and a base instinct deep down wanted to grab her like he was some savage neanderthal and have her there on the field. He was pretty sure she knew that too because there was a coy twist to her smile. 

Ding ding ding. We’ve found the candle. He picked it up and went to pay Becky. 

“Nice choice,” she said as she popped it in a paper bag. 

“Yeah. Chrissy is…” Chrissy was a lot of things. He settled on, “She tastes like strawberries.”

Becky’s cheeks flamed at his words and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Eddie felt pretty proud of himself overall. He’d battled the demon that was the mall, found a sidekick of sorts in Becky, and retrieved the holy grail that would please the beautiful princess. Not a bad campaign really. “Chrissy Cunningham, you mean?”

Christ. They knew her here too? He gave her a stiff nod. Was she going to start coming out with the usual crap he heard in the corridors about not being good enough? 

But no. Becky only gave him the bag. “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I'm the lucky one.”

----

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for the couple, so apologies for any errors or mishaps with the setting or characteristics. It’s a learning curve. I was not alive during the 80’s so I did rely on a trusty search engine for a few parts. I actually searched for ‘Yankee Candles which are now obsolete’ (apparently they started in the 60’s - who knew?) and the ones listed above are the search results. Pretty sure some of them have come back into circulation though. The store Eddie so bravely ventured into is essentially an 80’s Oliver Bonas. 

I’m also not from the US though I tried using some of the lingo. I think I actually wrote the word mum but it looked so out of place for this world. I can’t bring myself to swap the spell check over though so you still get plenty of u’s in unlikely places (or likely - eh). 

I really enjoyed writing this. It came very naturally. I’ve posted some prompts on my page which I’ll make my way through but give me a shout if you’ve got any requests. 

Toodles x