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alj4890 · 5 years

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A Little Romance Couldn't Hurt

(Maxwell x Amanda) as requested by @krsnlove with the below prompt. Taken from The Other Friend Series.

Brought in some of The Red Carpet gang for a few scenes 😉

A/N this started out as a fluffy Friday story, but became too long and complicated. But a promise is a promise, so here it is. Everything, except the rocks and famous people, have happened to me on various vacations with friends or my husband, LOL. Always make sure to travel with someone who can make you laugh. And bring pain pills.

"Whoohoo!" Maxwell exclaimed as he walked out on the balcony. Carmel was absolutely beautiful. He and Amanda had left their little girls with Liam and Riley and had come for two weeks of fun in the sun and a few meetings with Thomas Hunt. Maxwell had plans though that involved some special alone time without a six year old and her three year old sister running about.

He rubbed his hands in anticipation. This was just what they needed. He returned to the suite and grinned when he saw Amanda on the phone. She had already called before they took off, while somewhere over Kentucky, and when they landed. She looked up at him. "Here's your daddy. Love you angels!"

Maxwell talked for a few minutes and told the girls he loved them. He tossed the phone aside and tackled Amanda on the bed. She giggled as he propped himself up on his elbows. His expression was filled with mock surprise. "Sorry, I tripped." She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss.

They were interrupted from exploring this long forgotten freedom by the phone ringing. It was Thomas. He had arrived early and was waiting down in the lobby. "We will be right down." Amanda said while Maxwell shook his head, no. "See you soon."

He groaned and pulled her closer. "Wouldn't you rather stay here for a romantic beginning to our getaway?" He kissed along her jawline to her lips. He rolled over, causing her to laugh into the kiss.

"Yes, I would. That's why I'm going down there now so that I can hurry back up here and be alone with you." She moved her lips down his neck as she talked. "Let's go." She pushed off and grabbed his hand. He groaned and got up. "How did I end up with someone so cruel?"

The lobby was teaming with people. Luggage was moving at an alarming speed by the staff trying to get everyone situated. Maxwell saw a luggage cart barreling toward Amanda and shoved her out of the way. He was knocked down and bags landed on his back. His cry of pain echoed around the room.

"Maxwell!" Amanda began to try and pull the bags off of him but they were unusually heavy. Thomas ran over and tried to assist her. "Are there bricks in these bags?" He growled as he lifted.

"Actually, it's rocks." They turned to see a nervous looking man. "I'm a geologist and I brought some samples to share at UCLA."

"Well don't just stand there! Help us!" Thomas yelled. They soon had Maxwell unearthed and he moaned in pain. "My back." He stayed still trying not to tense up. The manager ran over, apologizing while yelling for a doctor to be called.

A few hours later, Maxwell was lying in bed feeling the effects of the muscle relaxer. Amanda had been alternating between heat and ice, while grimacing at the darkening bruises. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to a spot that had no mark.

He had a loopy smile on his face. "That felt nice." He said in a slightly slurred voice. Amanda gently ran her hand down his back. He would have a few days of swelling and spasms. So much for their romantic beginning.

Five days later, a rather grumpy Maxwell watched his wife get ready to go down to the beach. Apparently, Ryan Summers had invited a bunch of the friends she had made her first time here for a little fun in the sun. There was no way he was letting her go without him.

"You sure you feel up to it?" She asked for the fifth time. "I won't stay long if you want to lay back down."

"I'm fine." He bit out.

Amanda paused and looked at him. "You don't sound fine."

"I'm fine." He stressed again.

"Ah yes, the positivity just oozes from you." She teased.

His lips quirked and he couldn't help laughing at how ridiculous this trip had been so far. “I am gonna be so positive today! Positive or DEATH TO ALL!”

"Took a bit of a dark turn there at the end." She said, slipping her hand in his as they walked out.

"Well, you would worry about me if I was suddenly sunshine and rainbows after the last couple of days." He stepped out onto the warm sand and gazed out at the deep blue water. This was what he needed. He smiled down at Amanda as she wrapped her arms around him. Well, he needed something else too, but this was a good start.

They heard their names called out and turned to see a group waving at them. A petite blonde came running at full speed and hugged Amanda, squealing with delight. "Addison! It has been too long."

"I know! I've missed you guys like crazy." She grabbed Maxwell and hugged him.

"Careful!" Maxwell exclaimed when she squeezed hard.

"Sorry! Thomas told me what happened." She grabbed both their hands and pulled them along. They spent the afternoon enjoying the time with everyone. Maxwell relaxed back in his beach chair and was even found smiling most of the time.

His eyes rested on Amanda often. Addison and Holly had talked her and Thomas into playing badminton. During the hilariously bad plays, he noticed Amanda was looking a little red. He called out to her and rummaged around in her beach bag. "Uh oh."

"What's wrong." She asked as she sat down beside him.

"You look a little red. And we have no sun block." His eyes widened when he got a closer look at her. "Umm. We might need to get you inside."

"What? Why?" She asked. He pointed at her shoulders. Not only were they red, they had begun to blister. "What did you put on?" He asked.

"It was some kind of weird stuff Addison had. She said she used it all the time at the beach and that I had to give it a try." They yelled out to her.

"What's up? Holy crap! Your shoulders! Wait...which stuff did you put on?" Addison asked. "Did it smell like lemons or coconut?"

"Coconut. Why?" Amanda began to feel alarmed.

"Yeah... that's my super secret dark tanning lotion. I barely stay out for an hour when I have that on." Addison seemed worried.

"I've been out here for over three hours with it!" Amanda exclaimed. Now that it had been pointed out, she could feel the burn.

Maxwell stood up and they said their goodbyes. When they got back to the room and she removed her top, they both stared in horror. "I look like an overcooked lobster." She whispered.

"Yes you do. Did I mention that I love lobsters?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her causing her to giggle. She sobered the longer she looked at the crisp carcass that once was her body.

She teared up as she looked at her shoulders. For some weird reason they were the only blistered part. Everywhere else was red. Her cheeks and forehead were bright red and her nose...good grief. Through the tears of pain, she started laughing. "Who knew my love of all things coconut would lead to my downfall? I thought their shells were the only thing to cause bodily harm."

Maxwell started laughing and grabbed his back. "Ow! Don't make me laugh so hard." This caused them both to laugh harder. Amanda gingerly laid down on the top of the cover, cringing as her raw skin touched the comforter. He groaned as he stretched out beside her. "So..." He began, a teasing glint in his eyes. "This has got to be our most romantic getaway ever."

Amanda laughed. "I would kiss you but I think my lips were singed off by the sun."

"I would lean over and kiss you back, but I would never be able to move again." Maxwell said. He glanced at her and grimaced. "I can literally feel the heat of your burns way over here."

Amanda nodded. "I'm freezing but I'm pretty sure I would pass out from the pain if I pulled a blanket over me." She thought a minute and grabbed a blanket. It hurt like crap but she was still conscious. "Didn't work."

Maxwell slowly moved closer to her. She eyed him warily, afriad he would bump into her. He stopped about six inches away and collapsed. "Okay...by my math, if we can miraculously heal in two days, we will have at least one whole week to ourselves." He turned his head to look at his badly burned wife.

She met his eyes and began to laugh. "In case it was burned off, I was raising my eyebrow in disbelief." He snorted and the bed shook as they continued to tease each other until they fell asleep.

The next morning, Amanda opened her eyes and tried to get up. Her burned skin was tight and she hobbled around slightly bent. She looked in the mirror and realized she looked worse than before. Her shoulders had literally been basted with coconut substances and cooked for hours. The blisters ran deep around where her straps had been. MaxwelI heard her moan in agony as she tried the shower. She got out and ran the tub faucet and slowly sat down.

He tried to get up but his back had spasmed. "Babe. You okay?" He called out.

"Not sure. Think so. You?" She replied.

"I can't get up at the moment. Know that I would have checked on you if I could." He moaned and rolled over on his stomach.

"That's why I love you. I would come check on you but I barely got in the tub. This might be my new residence. Be sure to bring the kids by for holidays." Amanda tried to lean back and sucked in a painful breath.

After a little while she was able to get out of the tub. She tried to gently pat dry her messed up skin. Maxwell finally got up and walked in the bathroom. He averted his eyes. Her burns hurt just looking at them.

"I saw that. I know I look disgusting." She mumbled as she tried to put a t-shirt on. She gasped and breathed hard through the pain.

Maxwell shook his head. "You know I don't think that. It hurts me seeing you like that." He looked at her and frowned. "There is nowhere to kiss you that won't hurt."

Amanda reached for the boxers she stole from him. And slipped them on slowly. "That's better." She shuffled out and tried to sit down on the couch. "Nope." She got back into bed. The comforter was softer. Maxwell ran a shower and sighed as the hot water hit his sore spots.

He got dressed in pj bottoms and a shirt. He smiled and stretched out next to her. "You know...I had planned on the two of us spending most of the trip here. This wasn't what I had in mind."

Amanda laughed and barely kissed him. Her lips were raw but she couldn't resist.

And so it went for the following days. Finally, Maxwell's back stopped hurting. Amanda's burns, save for the very top of her shoulders, had healed. They decided to celebrate with a romantic night out.

Maxwell was tying his tie when Amanda stepped out in a little black dress and did a slow twirl. He let out a low whistle. "If I did not want to show you off so much, I would suggest we stay here." He ran his hands down her back as he kissed her.

She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He smiled, planning in his mind how the evening would go. It was going to be a night to remember.

2 hours later.

"Why does this place hate us so much?!" Amanda cried out. She heaved over the toilet. Maxwell was in the other bathroom heaving over his own. "I don't know. But I want to go home." He sighed and collapsed on the floor. Food poisoning. At a five star restaurant. Why?

After he knew nothing else would come up, he crawled out to check to see if he was a widower. It was too quiet in the other bathroom. He stuck his head in and saw her laying in the floor. Her chest was slowly moving up and down so he didn't have to worry. He crawled next to her and laid down.

"If it's cool with you, I'm going to die. You are such a great father that you and the girls will be fine." She whispered.

"You can't. I'm dying right now. One of us has to stay for the kids. They need you more. You're the perfect mom. Plus I think I just died during that last sentence."

Amanda rolled over slowly. She took his hand. "I'm going with you. The girls have all those godparents. It's safe for us both to die."

2 days later.

They finished packing what they could, ready to leave whatever level of hell they had stumbled into. Their jet was being made ready for the earliest possible departure. Maxwell glanced around at the room that had been a prison, hospital room, and a torture chamber. He opened the door to step out on the balcony when Amanda jumped in front of him.

"Are you crazy?! You step out there and either an anvil will fall on you or some giant bird knocks you off the balcony." She pushed him away and went to shut the door when a bat flew in.

They screamed and ran out of the room.

1 hour later

Their private jet seemed the best place to wait for the next 10 hours. They placed their bags down and reclined in their seats. Amanda opened her eyes and looked at the only man she knew who could make her laugh so much during so many crazy, rather painful situations. She gently touched his cheek. He opened his eyes and grinned. He kissed the hand against his cheek.

"I love you so very much." She whispered.

"I love you so very much too." He whispered back. He tucked a blanket around the two of them and pulled her close. He let out a contented sigh and went to sleep.

#choices trr #the royal romance #trr maxwell #vacations gone bad

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skeletonwoman · 7 years

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My Neck, My Back (Peter Maximoff)

this is not at all sexual. it is instead a joke at the pain that comes w being linked to Peter Maximoff

Request: hi there!! i'm so glad you do soulmate stuff! could u do an x-men soulmate AU with peter maximoff x reader where each other's soulmate gets the same bruises or injuries the other one does and throughout his life peter has accidentally bumped into things and gotten bruised but he has fast healing so it goes away but when he meets his soulmate (reader) she has tons of scars and bruises and she like "cmon peter really ? at least watch where you're goin when you speed. damn"

You examine your latest nick, a cut that’d literally split open in the middle of class and started gushing blood.

About ten centimeters long, you’re regretting ever being interested in this dumb soulmate business.

And if there was ever a time when you wanted to self-harm, if even to just make this idiot stop hurting himself, now would be it.

But self-harming is bad and distantly, in a deep, dark recess of your soul, you love this soulmate of yours.

“Ouch! That’s a bad one!” Mrs Emmie winces, dabbing at the cut with a pad of gauze and you grit your teeth. She doesn’t need an answer after all this time. “That soulmate of yours better look out when you find him.”

“I’m gonna make him eat an entire candle.”

She laughs loudly and you hiss as she dribbles some antiseptic onto the gash. “They’re going to deserve it after all this. Dinner candle or one of those witchcraft ones?”

“Oh, I haven’t decided. The dinner ones would be faster to get down but there’s more to those thick black ones witches use,” you say, exhaling a long breath as she pins the bandage together. It’s done. Phew.

“I clipped some razor wire!” Peter announces, bouncing into the nurses office, who sighs and examines the cut.

“At least it’s clean.” He sighs again. “Really, Peter, how is your soulmate supposed to do anything but jail you once they meet you?”

“Oh, they’re gonna love me! I’m quirky and rough and tumble! Everyone loves that.” He laughs, ignoring the look on Nurse Kens face. If anyone is going to love him, it’ll be his soulmate.

Maybe not his dad.

But definitely his soulmate.

A wild scream tears from your lips as burning pain licks up your arms and singes your clothes to your skin.

“Burn in hell, mutant freak!” The running assailant shouts to the wind but you can’t hear him. You can’t hear anything over the roaring pain on your skin and the screams coming from your lips.

“What do we do?”

“Someone stop him!”

“Call an ambulance!”

“What the f*ck!” Peter screams, pain so harsh he nearly blacks out assaulting him. Through blurry eyes he watches welts, blisters and sunken raw patches appear on his arms- wrist to elbow on one side and a watch sized band on the other. Tiny bubbles spot his hands and fingers and he screams again, red tinting his vision.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. You’re safe.” Someone says and your panicked wheezes slow from race car to police chase. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? First, we need to peel this off though, so it’s going to hurt.”

“Please…” You manage between whimpers and apologies blur through the air, getting lost in your cries.

“It’s okay, Peter! You’re going to be okay!” The professors voice booms through his mind but he can’t stop, his body vibrating, trying to run from the pain even as they strap him down.

“This didn’t happen here-”

“His soulmate…”

“Find them. Now.”

The words are distant and he can’t think, can’t understand how he’s never felt this much pain before, like something burrowed its way into his skin and it’s on fire.

“Here we go, we’re going to stop the burning but it’s going to hurt.”

Something wet runs over your arms and you feel a starburst of pain, then relief. Once the liquid stops, the pain returns, steadier and less insistent but still just as biting.

“This girls being transferred.”

“They can’t transfer her!”

“They just did, she’s got to be in the van in twenty.”

“She’s in no condition to go anywhere, I’ve barely touched these burns! Who ordered this?”

“Government. Some branch, they listed a bunch of mumbo jumbo and hit all the key words. It’s out of our hands so either work fast or step back.”

“F*ck.”

“We’ve got her. Names Y/N Y/L/N and she was at a mutant rally when someone threw acid.”

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the name bounces around his skull, worse than pong, and he feels his limbs slowly stilling.

Y/N is his soulmate.

Someone threw acid and it got on her.

The burning in his arms lessens, or takes a backseat, as a pit of rage starts to bubble in his stomach.

“She’s on her way, Peter. You’re both safe.”

“God, are these bruises? Where did they come from- are they new?”

“They look like…”

“Yeah. This poor girls in for it when she meets her soulmate judging by all these scars.”

“I wonder who caused them, I mean if they’re tying down her other half… You know?”

“Yeah.” Warm fingers lift your eyelids and a light flashes through your vision. You’re not dying, relax. Something’s stuck in your mouth and you want to gag or spit it out but you’re stuck. Floating, detached.

“She’s a little warm but she seems to be doing okay. Check those burns, see if they’re still cooking.”

A rustling sounds, then a moan hums through your lips as material brushes your wrist and arm.

“We’re good.”

“Good.”

Peter plays dot to dot with your pockmarked arm, drawing a giraffe whos markings are your spotted and scar damaged skin.

It’s cute and artistic, sure.

It’s also your burned and ugly arm.

“What the hell are you doing, jeez?” You hiss, snatching your limb from his grip and he whines, watching you with a puppy gaze before he’s zipping away.

Seconds later, a sharp scratch tears across your cheek bone and you hiss, your fingers reaching up and coming away with a touch of blood.

“Peter!”

“You called, babe? Oh, crap! Branch smacked me in the face.” He grins, holding out a wind crushed flower, and you can’t help pausing in your fury to get up and examine the delicate cut on his face, ignoring the offering all together. The cuts not terrible and there’s no blood on his yet.

“Stop that!” You snap, glaring at him ferociously. If only you could just shove him or something but you’re delicate and what hurts him hurts you.

Stupid literally.

“Stop running without thinking! It hurts, jerk!” You feel tears well up, years of pent up frustration surfacing all at once and his bright expression drops.

“Y/N,” he whispers, voice desperate as he hesitantly reaches for you.

“No!” You snap, stepping out of his grasp. “You hurt me and didn’t care! I was always careful because it wasn’t just my body! It’s not just your body, Peter, it’s mine!” You’re shouting now and his shoulders are hunched, expression downcast in the face of your onslaught.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, nervously wavering toward you and away. You stand like that for a moment, Peter apologetic and confused, your rage filtering away to leave a pit of pain.

“Now I want a hug!”

“Sorry!” The word is whipped away in the speed of his movement, his arms around you in under a tenth of a second, your head cradled to his chest while he presses a flurry of kisses to the crown of your head.

“And slow down.”

“Sorry,” he says again, movements slowing obviously as he smooths your hair from your face and rubs slow circles over your back. “I didn’t… I never meant to hurt you. It never occurred to me, like I knew you got what I got, but it never sunk in.”

“I was never real,” you say, and the way he tenses around you tells you it’s true. “It’s okay, I understand. You weren’t really real to me either, just… You were someone who kept hurting me, like in the middle of a soccer game when you burned your mouth something awful and I stood there for an entire minute just fanning my empty mouth.”

He laughs, softly, and guides you toward the couch you’d been on moments ago.

“I remember that, I think. Tell me more times I ruined you day.”

You laugh, letting him take your hand again, his thumb circling on your palm. “Like the time I was taking my driving test and in the middle of traffic, my ankle broke? I could thank you for that one considering I passed when I managed to get the instructor and I safely out of traffic while I screamed in pain.”

“Yeah, don’t thank me,” he says, cringing and you laugh.

“Or the time Mum was about to let me finally have a puppy and I burst out with twelve cuss words right in her face because something happened to my ass and when I looked, there were cuts and burns all over it.” You raise your eyebrows at him this time, the implication obvious and he is the one to laugh now.

“It’s not… Scott bet me I couldn’t sit on a grille for two minutes straight. He didn’t tell me there were nails on it either,” he shrugs and you stare, your jaw dropped. Your soulmate is an idiot. “I probably should have found you earlier, your expressions telling me I’m an idiot.”

“Oh, no!” You coo and he frowns a little, “you’re a straight up train wreck with a moronic captain and 206 innocent passengers, most of which have soft children.”

“Why 206? And soft children?”

“Your bones and organs, idiot.” You groan and he snorts, affection shining on his face.

i hooooope this was what you wanted (sry if it’s crapola)

#peter maximoff fic #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen fic #xmen

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hannahlizmellino-blog · 7 years

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First Day

Ah, Monday. If you don’t know me, Dear Reader, then let me explain right now: I hate” first days” of anything. It’s only because I seem to have this curse, where anytime I start something new, something happens the day or week before to make that first day a little miserable. One time, I was just starting a new job at this bakery, and I had sand- burned my legs at the beach the day before, so they were all red and raw. When I started at Payless Shoes as a sales associate, I caught a cold the day before and had no voice and a non-stop dripping nose and coughing spells that made me have tears running down my face. NOW, I was hoping I would have a clean start, but no such chance. On the long walk to church the day before, I had developed a bunch of blisters on my feet ,which then popped and rubbed and bled all the way home. Now, on my first day, they were still raw and tender, and I also had mosquito bites where there weren’t blisters. All night, I had been awakened by the high- pitched buzzing of mosquitos trying to land on my face. The next morning, my hands had large swollen areas from the mosquito bites, and there was also one on my face. I tried to focus on being positive, but the stress was definitely taking its toll on me.

I almost missed my bus that morning for school, because I lost track of time, and I completely forgot that I was wearing the faux pax shoe of Italy: the flip flop. I am always anywhere from five to twenty minutes early for everything. Except SOMEHOW, I always end up a half-hour late for any class of Gary’s, the first week of classes. Not sure how I do it, but it never fails to happen to me. THIS time, I was NOT going to be late for the first day. Turns out, I was about an hour early instead of the twenty minutes early I had planned for. Italian time here varies. The bus can be ten minutes early and not show up for the next half-hour, or it can be ten minutes late and almost make you miss your appointment. However, I got there plenty early!!

Getting to the school, I have to laugh now, I made a definite entrance. Everyone was staring. Everyone was shocked. The American had arrived. How did I make this GRAND entrance? I tripped. OK, HEAR ME OUT. I am not clumsy, I swear. I have never tripped in my life, no matter how many times my brothers have shoved their legs out in front of me, inviting me to fall on my face. Now, HERE I AM, TRIPPING IN ITALY, with the school that has some of the best artists in the world, I’m talking, “Best of the best of the best, SIR……with honors!” (Will Smith, Men in Black 1). See, this gate that you go through for the academy opens, but it leaves a giant metal bar six inches off the ground at the bottom that you have to step over. No warning sign. You just have to know to look down so that you can step over it. And I didn’t look down. I didn’t fall flat on my face; I caught myself in time, but my pride went out the window at that moment. “Hello, yes, dumb American over here. Don’t mind me.” Vicki, who was with me, asked if I was okay, and when I lifted my jeans, I found that my superior extensor retinaculum (I’m not smart; I, legit, just googled that) was completely scraped up and had a large black- looking bruise on it. To put in simply, YEAH, I WAS IN PAIN. Take a sledge hammer and whack your superior extensor foot part. That’s what I did. My nerves didn’t let up, either. While I was trying to pay with my euro bills for a silverpoint class after that, my hands were shaking, and I couldn’t find the right bills. Poor Rosemary, the secretary, thought I couldn’t count or didn’t know how to work the bills. At that point, I was making up a t-shirt design in my head that read in bold, black impact letters, “DUMB AMERICAN HERE.” For the record, I actually understand European money really well. The higher the numbers get, the higher the worth of the bill. Boom.

I figured once I started class, I would get into my groove. I would be in MY area of expertise. Actually, I’m not all that awesome at it, but my point is that I would be more confident at drawing than anything else I’d been doing the past week. NOPE. NOPE. ALL wrong. Listen to this, though, because, WOW, it is all so incredible, and as much as I struggled HARDCORE, I learned so much.

I stood at my easel and was about to start drawing, when I was told, no, you need to sharpen your pencil.

“Yeah, ok. My pencil was a little blunt, I guess.”

“No, not sharpen, but literally use a knife and slice that pencil until you get AT LEAST an inch of lead hanging out ,and then sharpen the bajeezers out of that.”

“Ok, wow, that’s interesting! Sounds great! Can I draw now?”

“No, you need to hold your pencil differently. Not near the end, like you are writing, but at or near the end of the pencil, to be able to make longer and quicker strokes.”

“Wonderful! Bene! Sounds great. Ok!”

“Good. Now why are you standing so close?”

“Close?”

“Step back. You should be at an arm’s length from your board with the left edge of the board (if you’re right handed) in the middle of you, your board turned slightly towards the model. Make sure the left foot is pointing to the model and the other foot towards your drawing. OH, and now put tape along your feet where you are standing, so you know you’re always in the right spot.”

I was geeking out, to be honest. I WAS BEING A REAL ARTIST!!!!!! But this was a lot to remember and practice all at once. I started to hold out my pencil to measure the distance from the top of my model’s head to the ground, when I was given more instructions! We measure not with a pencil or stick, but with a piece of string with a large metal washer tied to the end. We then measure with our arms spread wide. We hold the string up evenly to parts of the model as we measure up or down, and you then mark on the paper where the string hits.

We were then taught to make an abstract drawing using small to long lines quickly, to just outline the figure. “The more abstract the better,” Simone, my teacher, keeps telling me. And believe me, it is hard. I believe in trying to make the figure look good from the beginning. Now we needed to make an abstract potato- shape and whittle it down to a form. However, as Simone is teaching me, the chiseling process actually gets one to a more accurate drawing. She showed me to even build with basic shapes first, like triangles, circles, and ovals. I was taught to start with the feet and then find my way up the body and focus on the way the body is connected, in order to find the middle vertical line, and then work off of that. Then focus on the skeleton and what it is doing under the skin. That was surprising to me. I copied master works for figure drawing, and it also showed me how important it was to get each line to show the curve of the muscles under the skin. Visualizing the skeleton and how it was moving, combined with watching for how the muscles were being tensed, made a huge difference for me in drawing a figure. In class at home, we were just trying so hard to show legs, arms, and trunk, we forgot about what makes all that up.

Another very important step that I really struggle with, is looking at the overall picture. I am great at picking up details. But if you don’t squint and pick up the large cutouts of overall darks and lights, the details mean nothing. I have struggled with that so much in class. My Professor, Thia, and classmate, Mark, were telling me before that I needed to focus more on that.

IT’S SUCH AN AWESOME EXPERIENCE!!!! It’s really a lot to learn, and it is VERY, VERY intense and VERY overwhelming, but it makes me just want to work harder and perfect this. The other day, I must have spent four hours on a practice drawing of a figure pulling a rope, and even though I REALLY struggled through it, the end result was just beautiful and so worth it. I really am learning to be patient with myself and drawing,to see the bigger picture in life and in the drawing, and to have humility. Also, I need to hustle harder. I ALWAYS hear you tubers, who are getting big and famous, to “put yourself out there”, to “get out of your comfort zone”, and it really is true, I am finding. It is exhilarating to go through a trial, and whether you enjoyed it or not, to be able to say at the very end, that you did it. You accomplished that, and YOU LEARNED. It’s also become a joy for me to know that I worked HARD on something. I didn’t just show up to class and draw and leave. I got there early and practiced; I did the class,; I went home, and then I practiced some more and then repeated it again. It really does make you feel good, and it just fuels you on to do more. And the best thing? Only good can come from that hustle.

MORE COMING SOON!!!

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