#skippingframes

[commonmonsters]

closed for @skippingframes !!

Before Hana left her hotel room the next evening, Eleanora made sure they took down each other's phone numbers and planted the innocuous seed of seeing each other again. She knew she was just visiting, but she couldn't remember the last time she felt such a connection to another being before. Their chemistry was magnetic: In the gallery, on their little impromptu date, while Hana's fingers filled the blonde to the hilt, and taking the time to bathe her after it all, like it was the most natural way to end the night. And she actually put up with, no, enjoyed how demanding she got throughout all of it? She didn’t want the other woman to leave.

So when Hana asked her if she wanted to go on another date, Eleanora accepted swiftly. She didn’t even ask for the details because she had enough faith in her tour guide companion and what she could show her during her time in San Francisco. All she requested was for Hana to meet her at her hotel so they could go together. The hour timer she had set on her phone to get ready had already dwindled to its five-minute warning. In typical Eleanora fashion, she was not ready. Sitting at the hotel vanity in a robe, she found herself still doing her makeup and unsure of what to wear. 

And then there was a knock on the door. Fuck, Hana was already here. Gritting her teeth, she turned off the alarm, rose from her chair, and answered the door. The blonde beamed as she greeted the other vampire at the door. All the previous frustration melted away as soon as they locked eyes. “Hey, come in. I might need another twenty minutes before we go if that’s okay.” She stepped to the side, giving room for Hana to enter before smirking at her. “I figured that’ll be enough for you to tell me what you have planned for us.”

[commonmonsters]

closed for @skippingframes !!

Eleanora was a woman of her word. After Hana recovered from her exhaustion the next day, the flight back to New York was booked, and a week later, she was giving Hana a comprehensive tour of her home. She had purchased it in 1974 for an amount that would make younger generations go on a tirade about the wealth gap. It was the only constant Eleanora had during the last few decades, being the place she limped back to after those wild nights at Studio 54 in the seventies, to being an untouched landmark that held strong against the rapid, unforgiving gentrification she witnessed in the early two thousands. And, to top it all off, this was the first time she had someone stay over that she genuinely wanted to impress. Eleanora knew too many people and had shown her hospitality to plenty of them before Hana. Their opinions never mattered because she never cared enough about them to hear them. But Hana's did; the blonde wanted nothing more than to bathe in her girlfriend's flowery praise and bask in her approval.

“This is where I keep all my paintings,” she stated casually over her shoulder, bringing Hana to a smaller room attached to her living room. While they hid from the afternoon sun, Eleanora turned the knob and pushed the old door open with her shoulder simultaneously, eliciting a pained groan from the door hinges. The room was a bit smaller than her living room, painted a non-offensive beige. It was furnished with storage cabinets and racks with wide enough slits to slide canvases through. It was very easy to tell which paintings Eleanora valued: the walls in this room—and the rest of her home—showcased the most beloved, the top shelf held canvases she didn’t know where to display yet, and the rest of the spaces were filled with canvases that lacked emotional weight, but still seemed to have some merit to earn their place there. The blonde stood to the side, turning on the light and allowing Hana to come inside. She rocked gently on her heels, hands behind her back as she observed her girlfriend. “Not as exciting as I made it out to be, huh? That’s alright, we can go to the Met tonight if you really want to be impressed.” A beat passed between them before she spoke again. "Everything's labeled by the way. In case you get too curious."

[commonmonsters]

@skippingframes sent: draw for hana & eleanora. (actions speak louder than words non-verbal action prompts)

Eleanora had let Hana paint her numerous times already, and each work she created captured even more of the blonde than the previous. The bright eyes, wicked grin, and radiant joy took on new shapes with each work, juxtaposed against that deliberate softness and vulnerability she allowed herself to reveal only around Hana. Each completed canvas claimed more of Eleanora than she ever thought she’d give someone willing. Because of that, she figured the logical next step was to claim her body, too. That was how she ended up naked on their bed, coquettish gaze fixed on her girlfriend from across the room with her legs partially spread. 

The blonde liked the way Hana worked. She liked how she truly was a combination of both her parents: disciplined with a brush like her father, while attuned to the beauty of the subjects she put to canvas like her mother. They left the best of themselves within the artist, and there was something so intimate about watching both sides come out every time she touched her canvas. Eleanora liked the way Hana looked at her when she painted her, too. It was never a leer like the ones she had grown up with, picking apart only the desirable parts of herself and filling in the pieces with traits easier to swallow. No, Hana looked at her fully, memorizing each dip, curve, and stretch of her body with her eyes alone so they could be translated accurately to her canvas. Everything she perceived was on her canvas, whether the blonde wanted it there or not. Most importantly, she looked at Eleanora with such an observant reverence that it made her stomach churn. 

Once Hana had finished, Eleanora was already hopping off the bed and making her way over to see what her girlfriend had created. She sat shamelessly between Hana’s legs, hands positioned on her bare knees as she leaned in to look at the canvas. “Oh, honey, this is incredible,” she breathed, lips curving proudly at the display of her girlfriend’s raw talent. Every brush stroke told the story of her body, and although bared to the viewer, the flirtatious look in her eyes and her coy, toothy smile were not open invitations. She was reserved for someone out of sight, Eleanora realized, as something else caught her attention. Her body was stamped with a warning, and it came in the two sets of pristine bite marks that claimed her. One set was on her neck, and the other was on the upper part of her inner thigh. Her brows raised, and she twisted so she could slot herself neatly in Hana’s lap. “You know,” Eleanora started, voice just under a whisper as she pressed her groin purposefully against Hana’s. “If you wanted to bite me for the painting, you could have just asked.” Her arms slid over her girlfriend’s shoulders while she tilted her head forward, lips ghosting over Hana’s with a smirk. “I’d never deny you.”

[famishdd]

closed starter for @skippingframes

“so this week’s episode is a good one. i’m covering the i-70 killer.” papers are spread across his desk, barely any space left between them. behind him, the corkboard takes up the entire wall. covered in more of the same. newspaper clippings, photos of victims, timelines pinned together with string. “they aren't super well known, killed six people along the i-70 corridor back in the ’90s. went on, like, a 30-day spree.” devin talks a little too fast when he gets into it, tripping over his words as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“it’s still considered a cold case. they never caught him. or her. could be anywhere, honestly. still out there… killing.” his eyes lift to theirs then, the energy shifting just a bit. “you gonna stick around while i record, or is that asking too much?” a small pause, softer now. “we could get dinner after.”

[famishdd]

closed starter for @skippingframes

“what do you want? i’m busy.” zuri barely glances up as they step into the small rehearsal space, an annoyed huff slipping out. she and juelz had been going at it for nearly an hour. running the setlist over and over, cutting songs, swapping others in. tweaking every little thing. their team had them locked into a full summer on the road. city to city, part of what everyone kept calling the “rebirth of warped tour.” zuri thought it was mostly a cash grab. but the pay was good, and she liked most of the bands on the lineup. most.

“we’ve got this space for another two hours,” she adds, fingers still resting on the strings of her guitar. “so unless you’re here to ask if we need water or snacks, i’m not really sure how you can help.” finally, her gaze lifts fully, landing on them. and she hates it. the way her stomach dips the second their eyes meet. she ignores it anyway. letting a frown settle along her lips.