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MORGAN WOLF

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Revolutionist

call me mo

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25 YEARS OLD

March 27

aries

LA, california

bisexual

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TAG WITH @morgan

MORGAN WOLF

we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven

whimsical [ open ]

posted Feb 12, 2016 21:07:05 GMT -6

FINNLEY DONOVAN and VALERIE LEBLANC like this

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lucyskyd"]

[attr="class","lucymoond"]319 words / for @tag / open! one or two people only pls <3

[attr="class","lucywhisperd"]whisper

[attr="class","lucystarsd"]The figure that perched on a flat rock not too far from the signature waterfalls of the garden was oddly built for someone whose heaviest possession on hand was a thick sketchpad. Sunglasses nestled atop a mop of pale brown hair, threatening to drop down whenever he tilted his head ever so slightly, which was rather often. After all, one could not simply sit still while drawing (or perhaps they could, but Morgan found himself largely incapable of doing so). For a moment, the graphite pencil was poised over a blank space on the paper as he sought a new target to sketch, and upon doing so, began to work once more. [break][break]

The page was currently devoid of colours, flowing strokes rendered in shades of grey. A palette, should he decide to actually paint, was just visible in the half-opened bag which lay at his feet, a reminder that perhaps sitting at one of those strategically placed picnic benches would have been a far better idea. A dull ache was beginning to build up on his back from this terrible position, after all. The artist couldn't quite bring himself to stand up and move on just yet though, focused on getting the flow of the figure just right. Biting his lip in concentration, Morgan shifted his weight slightly and discreetly stole a glance at the person who had the misfortune of standing in his field of vision.[break][break]

Except he was not as discreet as he had hoped. Morgan had chosen a bad timing to look back up - his eyes met theirs in a moment that could only be described as awkward. A sheepish, lopsided grin broke across his face, as sudden as a startled rabbit darting out a bush. Well, shit. Hazel eyes dropped back down to the sketchbook, pretending that nothing had happened. Of course, anyone would have figured out that that was not the case, right?

[attr="class","lucysund"]

[attr="class","lucyspaced"]

[attr="class","lucywcredit"]MADE BY LUCY OF WW

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5% renown

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Middy

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FINNLEY DONOVAN

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Single

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call me Finn

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25 YEARS OLD

December 13

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Los Angeles, California

Bisexual

Enforcer

TAG WITH @finn

FINNLEY DONOVAN

no one wants to see the way society keeps spreading the disease.

whimsical [ open ]

posted Feb 12, 2016 21:51:24 GMT -6

[attr="class","revolutionist"]

The Waterfall Garden Park was actually a rather secluded place, despite it being a tourist trap on certain days. It was that reason alone that Finn made herself a nest here, her purse and belongings thrown haphazardly on the "cute" iron table in front of her, a few of her things on the chairs around the table, a sign that no one else should sit there. She sat with a leg crossed, in one hand was a cup of iced coffee and in the other, a book. Dark sunglasses currently sat over her eyes, shielding them from the bright lights. It was definitely a downside to her albinism. The sun could be entirely annoying on some days. But in Seattle, the weather could-- literally-- change within seconds. So anything could happen.

She took a break from her reading to lift her arms to stretch. At that same moment, she lifted her sunglasses to rub her eyes. For a brief moment, she did not have anything covering her odd red irises, and it was at that moment that she made eye contact with the fellow over by the waterfalls, hunched over and sketching on his sketchpad. He was staring right at her. Finn lifted a brow and uncrossed her legs. He seemed mighty suspicious about something. He had immediately looked away and went back to... wait. Sketching. He was sketching. Was he sketching her?

Finn was probably the best and worst person to sketch. On one hand, she would probably find it extremely flattering; if it was a good sketch. On the other, was he sketching her because she was a weirdo? Only he would be able to change the outcome of this situation, if he played his cards right. Finn stood up and stomped on over to the guy. She shoved her hands into her pockets and attempted to bend over and look at the sketch he was making. She dared to unveil a hand, only to lift her sunglasses up a little and onto her head. "Oye. Are you drawing me?"

Blunt, and straight to the point. Just like Finn liked it.

Tag: MORGAN WOLF

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MORGAN WOLF

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MORGAN WOLF

we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven

whimsical [ open ]

posted Feb 12, 2016 23:25:00 GMT -6

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lucyskyd"]

[attr="class","lucymoond"]288 words / for FINNLEY DONOVAN / uvu

[attr="class","lucywhisperd"]whisper

[attr="class","lucystarsd"]His hand continued to move of its own accord, adding a little flair with every exaggerated or muted feature he decided to incorporate. It was a rather flattering sketch, to say the least, too stylized to be considered anywhere near the level of hyperrealism, more similar to the elegant sketches of fashion designers, or the smooth flowing lines of an animator's sketch up. Expressive and flowing, just as he liked it. He added a bow in her hair with a flourish, a idea of how he would paint such a scene forming in the back of his mind. Alas, it simply stayed there, overridden by the instinctual alarm of having a shadow suddenly fall over his work. [break][break]

Retrospect dictated that he probably should have looked up a tad sooner, for he focused on naught but the ground for a second too long before doing so, his mind's eye registering the colourful oranges and reds of this new voice. Rust and ginger, rough but not grating - he lifted his head as she bent to glare accusingly at the paper, once more meeting scarlet hues. A mildly apologetic grin once more tugged at his lips at her words, sharp and to the point. Clearly, someone didn't waste any time beating about the bush. Straightening up from where he had previously slouched over the sketchbook (and in doing so giving her a better view of the numerous sketches there, though only one contained her figure, with the rest being intricate illustrations of the scenery around them), Morgan nodded once in affirmation. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, I probably should have asked first but I didn't want to disturb you." The artist paused, his lips pursed. "Though that plan certainly went down the gutter."[break][break]

[attr="class","lucysund"]

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[attr="class","lucywcredit"]MADE BY LUCY OF WW

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[newclass=.lucywcredit a]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri;[/newclass]

5% renown

played by

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FINNLEY DONOVAN

awards

Single

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call me Finn

Female

25 YEARS OLD

December 13

Saggitarius

Los Angeles, California

Bisexual

Enforcer

TAG WITH @finn

FINNLEY DONOVAN

no one wants to see the way society keeps spreading the disease.

whimsical [ open ]

posted Feb 18, 2016 22:26:25 GMT -6

[attr="class","revolutionist"]

As she waited for his response, she took note of the other drawings scattered about him. She didn't seem to be the only victim of this, and that in itself made it a bit less creepy. If all of these sketches were of her, or if that was the only sketch he was doing, she might have made a bit more of a scene. But that didn't seem to be the case. Still slightly bent, she used the hand that had pushed her glasses to grab one of the sketches without his permission. She stood to her full height, a rather tall height for a woman, as she examined it.

"Not too shabby," she commented, releasing the picture just slightly above the others, close enough so that it would not float into the water surrounding him but far enough to make it slide along the surface when it landed. "I guess since it's not so bad, I won't act offended." A playful smirk crossed her lips.

"What are you going to do with it when you're done, hm?" she questioned, placing a hand on her hip.

Tag: MORGAN WOLF

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welcome to seattle, washington

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whimsical [ open ]

no one wants to see the way society keeps spreading the disease

played by

pie

POSTS

54

DOLLARS

single

we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven

5% renown

played by

Middy

POSTS

34

DOLLARS

Single

no one wants to see the way society keeps spreading the disease.

renown

played by

pie

POSTS

54

DOLLARS

single

we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven

5% renown

played by

Middy

POSTS

34

DOLLARS

Single

no one wants to see the way society keeps spreading the disease.

renown