#(i should finish it once i get myself some watercolor supplies)

[karnaca78]

Words: Daniel Mason, The Piano Tuner (2002)

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 22 ~ Scars

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 5.4k

⚠️ TW : Mentions of attempted suicide & SH scars

In this chapter ~ When Rick and Shane decide to take Randall away from their people to drop him and fend for himself, things seem to go wrong on the other end. Beth becomes suicidal after witnessing the death of her mother just days prior, leading Rose to comfort her in a time of need. However, the heaviness that followed was a lot more than she anticipated, though luckily for her, Daryl helps her pick up the pieces.

It had been about two days since they brought Randall back, and he eventually woke from his unconscious state. Since then the place had been chaotic.

The group was constantly going around and around in circles about what to do with this guy, so much so it gave me a pounding headache. Because most of the time the arguments wouldn't go anywhere. People would just repeat the same things that had already been said, causing us to feel stuck in the same place as no one really had a solution.

Until Rick just made the final decision to do what he wanted to since the beginning, take the man far away from the farm and drop him off on his own.

So now that the man was finally able to walk and balance decently on his own, Rick and Shane took a car to drive him out in the middle of nowhere, leaving the rest of us nervously waiting for their return. Everyone eventually seemed to agree with the plan despite the possibilities of him coming back, but it's not like we had much of a choice.

I for one was trying to keep myself busy all day, helping Lori with some laundry, staying to keep watch on top of the RV, I even made a run into town earlier that morning with Glenn. We had found a few different stores in a small part of town that had some useful things in them. But there was a little something else I found that I was extra excited about besides the food and supplies.

When we walked into the last store, I saw it. The perfect thing to give to Daryl. I had never gotten him something in return when he gave me my sketchbook and watercolors, but now I had something that I thought would suit him quite nicely. It was a black leather vest with stitched angel wings on the back.

In my mind, I hoped he would really like it and I had planned to give it to him later that night. Once we all knew Randall was taken care of.

Currently I was washing dishes with Maggie, occasionally talking about random things, trying to get our minds off of what was happening today. I could easily tell she hadn't stopped thinking about it since it happened either, the anxious feeling of the man somehow making his way back to her own home couldn't have been easy to deal with. But I had hope that everything would work out just fine and things would begin to move smoothly again.

She wordlessly handed me the last plate that was in the sink, water dripping off of the edges as I took the towel in my hands to dry it. She leaned her back up against the counter as she stared down at her shoes, the sound of me stacking the final plate in the cabinet brining her out of her thoughts as she glanced back up to me nervously.

"Can I talk to you about something... more serious?" she asked.

I only nodded my head as I listened, throwing the towel back down on the counter to give her my full attention as I copied her stance.

"Well, Glenn's been avoiding me lately, and he told me that when he was out there trying to fight those guys, he froze at one point. He was saying that since I told him I loved him... that's the reason he froze, and my dad had to save his life. He said he was afraid to die... thinking about how it would affect me." she finished almost a little shamefully.

My eyes widened a bit as I was a little thrown off and not expecting that, but I was still quick to respond and reassure her. "Listen, I know that it might not feel too great that he's avoiding you, but the truth is he loves you too. I don't think he should be avoiding you, I think he should be cherishing these moments he has with you, but y'know he's a guy." I pointed out, giving her a look she would be able to read.

She laughed quietly to herself as she nodded her head in silent understanding, "But he'll come around, I promise. You just gotta give him a little time." I finished.

She pressed her lips together and nodded gratefully, "Thank you." she said, "I feel like I can really talk to you ya know? I'm glad you're here."

I smiled, "Yeah, me too." I spoke, opening my mouth again before closing it back up quickly. My dumbass almost slipped up and said something about how I was glad that I stayed, but I bit my tongue before it could come out.

My eyes then absentmindedly panned over towards the tray of food that Maggie had set off to the side a few minutes ago, "Is this for Beth?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.

She followed my gaze and nodded, "Oh yeah, I was about to bring that up to her when we were done."

"Oh I got it, I was going to check on her soon anyways." I said, moving towards the counter.

She smiled gratefully, "Thank you. You know Beth really likes you. Ever since you taught her how to play those few songs on the guitar it's really all she can really talk about. I think seeing you would cheer her up."

"Yeah, I had fun teaching her, I'm sure she'll be ready to learn some more in no time." I reassured her.

Maggie nodded her head and I fully picked up the tray in my hands, walking out of the kitchen to head upstairs and into Beth's room. It seemed quieter than usual as I made my way up the familiar stairs, something seeming a little off. But I mostly blamed it on Rick and Shane's absence, still not here even after leaving early this morning.

For some reason the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, sensing something might go wrong out there, not necessarily with Randall. But with each other.

After what happened with the barn and the whole fight that came after that, the two had been at each other's throats ever since. It was way far off from how they used to act around each other, seeming more like brothers than friends. But something just clicked and now they almost acted like strangers. Though it was none of my business, I still noticed.

Pushing my thoughts aside, I made it up the long staircase and lingered by the closed door, knocking softly a few times before I entered. To my surprise, I heard her soft voice from the other side invite me in, causing me to open the door as best as I could with the tray still balanced in my hands.

"Hey hon, it's just me." I announced as I walked in, "I brought you something to eat, and to see how you were doing."

Her gaze panned over towards me, and my breath hitched slightly in the back of my throat. I knew that familiar look all too well. I tried to not let it affect me too much in case I was wrong, but I had a feeling I wasn't. She looked utterly broken and depressed, much more pale with bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. She had just lost her mom, I came to find out that she was the walker Beth ran to after everything happened. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have felt worse for her after finding that out, now more than ever seeing her like this.

"You can just set it down here." she said, pointing over towards the side table next to her bed.

I did what she asked and stood there for a moment as she stared at the sandwich on the plate, "Do you want me to stay, or do you want some space."

"Some space. If that's okay?" she asked.

"Yeah of course," I said immediately, "Just...call if you need anything." I finished with a smile.

She barely gave me a noticeable nod before I turned on my heel to give her some time alone, but I couldn't just brush off the vibe I picked up. It again could be nothing, just being paranoid over something I was reading too much into. But in case I was right, I didn't just want to keep it to myself.

I ventured back down the stairs, peeking in the kitchen again to see if Maggie was around, but the room was empty by the time I got back. A sigh left my lips as I turned back around to try and find her, but I managed to spot Lori entering the house right as I was about to come down the hall.

"Oh hey, Lori?" I called out as I approached her.

She turned towards me with a small smile, hanging up her jacket, "Hey, what's up?" she asked.

My eyes glanced back up the stairs momentarily before turning back to her, slightly lowering my voice, "I just...I'm worried about Beth. She just seems a little off and I was going to find Maggie to let her know but-"

"I can tell her." she offered with a nod, "I'll keep an eye on her until she comes back."

"Yeah that would be great." I spoke gratefully, "She's just up in her room and wanted to be left alone... but I don't know I think Maggie should know."

"Absolutely." she agreed instantly, "I'll tell her the next time I see her, okay?"

I nodded, "Thanks." I said with a small smile, passing her as I moved to exit the house.

I felt a little bad not telling Maggie about it myself, but knowing someone else would keep an eye out for Beth gave me a little piece of mind. I didn't want to hover over her or pick up any overprotective instincts even though in the back of my mind I knew it was inevitable. I just wanted her to be okay.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, leaving nothing much to do around camp and everyone simply doing their own thing for the day. After not being able to find Maggie, looping around the farm a couple of times, I assumed she was back in the house at this point. So I took the much needed time to myself.

A few hours passed by with me just laying down in the yellow tent trying to relax as best as I could. Spending most of the time reading the book Daryl had stolen from me when he got hurt and it actually turned out to be pretty good, only drawing me more in with each chapter. The details were amazing and I loved the plot. I didn't plan on giving this back to him anytime soon.

I hadn't seen him for most of the day because he decided to go out hunting fairly early in the morning, leaving camp before the sun even rose. He offered for me to come with him, but I declined as I needed to go out on that run with Glenn to get some things for myself, and he understood. I just hoped he would be back soon along with Rick and Shane who continued to be gone for far too long.

Damn it was like everyone was missing today.

After closing in on the last chapter, I finally shut the book after what felt like forever, blinking my eyes a few times to adjust them. For hours I had been reading tiny words on these pages and I felt that it was time for a break. So, I placed the book back in my bag, standing to leave the tent and walked outside a little to stretch my legs, leaning from side to side as I was hunched over for many hours.

I glanced around the small camp to see who was around, before my eyes suddenly stopped on Carl sitting by the RV. He seemed distant as he glanced at the comic book sitting in his lap, barely reading over the pages as he sloppily flipped through them. A pain in my chest suddenly dispersed upon seeing him like this, knowing that he hadn't been the same since he witnessed Sophia coming out of that barn. But who could blame him?

He was grieving in his own way, separating himself from the others as much as he could for just some time alone to think. I hadn't had a proper conversation with him since that day everything went wrong, keeping my distance as that's what he seemed to wish for. But I shook my head as I began to walk over towards him, wanting to talk to him for the first time in what felt like too long.

"Hey kid." I greeted him.

He glanced up and gave me a slight smile, "Hey." he spoke as he closed the book to give me his attention.

I moved to take a seat next to him on the ground, "So, what're you reading? Tell me about it." I said.

His eyes lit up "Really?"

I chuckled a little, "Yeah, why not. Who's this?" I asked, pointing to some sort of superhero.

His excited demeanor never faltered as he went on to tell me everything that was happening in this comic book. Who all of the characters were, what their powers were, and what their mission was. This was one of the first times I had seen him get excited about something in what felt like forever, and it warmed my heart at just the sight. He began to slowly open up a little bit more the longer we talked, changing the subject a few times to talk about his favorite cartoons he used to watch before the outbreak.

I enjoyed watching him smile, it felt like it had been some time since it last happened, and I was just glad to distract him even if it was only for a few minutes. A kid his age should never have to go through half the shit that's he's been through, though he was tougher than I ever could've imagined.

After we finished talking for a while, I left him to read it in peace after that. I wanted him to have his space too, and I never wanted to overstep any boundaries, especially when it came time to grieve someone.

I found myself heading back into the house to grab something to eat afterwards, but as soon as I walked in, I jumped a little as I suddenly heard screaming from just up the stairs. I didn't hesitate for a second before I was rushing up the steps two at a time, jogging into Beth's room to see Maggie and Lori were yelling and banging on the bathroom door.

"Woah, woah, what's happening?" I asked.

Maggie's head whipped around to face me, "Beth...Beth tried to kill herself and now locked herself in the bathroom, I heard glass." she spoke quickly, continuing to pound on the door, pleading with Beth to listen.

Panic flooded through me. She tried to kill herself? And was now attempting again? I stood in the doorway frozen in shock as I felt as though I couldn't move a thing. But then my eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for something to get the door open. Lori had moved to search the room for the key, frantically looking through her drawers as fast as she could, but I spotted a metal rod sitting in the corner of the room. I didn't think twice about it as I stepped forward, picking it up in my hands before telling Maggie to move out of the way quickly and she jumped back.

Sticking the thing in between the lock and the wood, I pushed on it as hard as I could in an attempt to pry it open. There was a sudden crack after a few seconds before the wooden door suddenly flew open, revealing Beth standing there with her hand over her wrist, blood pouring out of it. Her head whipped over to us frantically as soon as she heard the door breaking, tears streaming down her face and her heart no doubt racing out of her chest.

"I'm sorry." she sobbed, and Maggie didn't waste anymore time as she went in to pull her close.

I ditched the metal rod in my hands, stepping inside the bathroom only to realize how severe the cut actually was. Blood was now running down her arm and onto the tile floor, the amount of pressure she was putting on it clearly wasn't enough. I quickly placed my hand on Maggie's shoulder to get her attention, gently pulling Beth out of her hold.

"Go get your dad, he's going to need to stitch this up." I said, trying to hide the panic in my tone.

But she caught it even though it was disguised, quickly nodding her head as she left right along with Lori to try and find Hershel as fast as possible. Beth looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak, but only a sob came out as she ducked her head, causing me to immediately shush her and bring her into a hug.

We all had different experiences with mental health, everything was dealt with differently, but I somewhat knew how she was feeling. I had been in her position not that long ago and seeing her standing there when I first opened the door, brought all the memories back, so fast it was like a tidal wave. The whole situation nearly knocked me off my goddamn feet.

After standing in place for a while as she sobbed into my arms, I slowly started to bring her back into her attached bedroom, sitting her down on the bed so she could try to relax and focus on her breathing as she put more pressure on the wound.

Hershel frantically came in soon after that with a needle and thread and started to stitch his daughter up as she cried. I stayed by her side the whole time, holding her hand to offer her some type of comfort I was able to give. Though it was heartbreaking hearing her cry, and even more heartbreaking seeing Hershel try to pull himself together as he worked. I tried to think over the right things to say to her when the time came, but I felt that there was no right thing to say. What could you say after something like this?

After Hershel was done he said he would talk to her later and soon left the room in a hurry to no doubt let a few tears fall, leaving Beth and I alone again. She slowly laid down on the mattress after he left, her cheeks still stained with tears as she tried to calm herself down, with me rubbing her back towards the end of the bed. The silence slowly becoming deafening.

"Are you mad at me too?" she suddenly asked. I could feel the pain in her voice.

I whipped my head to look at her, "Oh my God honey no, I'm not mad at all. And neither is Maggie or your dad, they just love you so much. Seeing you like this... it hurts them, you know?"

She sighed as she shook her head, "I just feel so alone in this, like they don't even understand. Nobody does." she muttered.

"You're not alone." I said with a shake of my head, "I can promise you that."

"How do you know?" she was quick to ask.

My breath caught in my throat as I thought back to my own experiences, so different, yet so similar to hers. I debated in my head for a long time in the dead silence, letting the seconds turn into minutes if I really wanted to do this. I had never dared to show anyone the things I kept only to myself, ashamed of what others might think if they caught a glimpse of them. It made me feel vulnerable, weak, and that was something that I hated, but I needed to show her that someone here understood what she was going through.

So with a heavy breath, I hesitantly lifted my shirt sleeves to reveal my deeper scars on my wrists, trying to ignore the twist in my stomach as the cold air hit my arms. Her eyes followed my movements, immediately seeing them and I watched her eyes get wider with each passing second.

"I know." I assured after the agonizing silence.

She shook her head in disbelief, "You-"

"Yeah." I interrupted her, almost like I didn't want to hear her say it.

"It was uh... at a really hard time in my life. I won't bore you with the details but someone in my life was making me feel worthless. He told me that so much I started to believe it myself, and I got really depressed. Eventually I thought that... doing this was my only option so I... tried. But I regretted it as soon as I saw the blood, kind of like you did. So I called for help and I... saved my own life that night."

She stared at me so intently, listening carefully to every word that came out of my mouth. I knew I could trust her to not say anything to anyone, just as she knew I wouldn't judge her for trying to do what she did. It was like a silent agreement that we had at that moment.

"Look, my point is I don't know exactly how you feel and I never will. But we were in the same boat you and me, we're fighters and I know you'll make it through this. You just proved that today when you stopped yourself." I said.

Her eyes refilled with tears as she looked at me with utter sadness, "I didn't realize...I'm so sorry Rose."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting her to see me cry as I smiled sadly, "I'm sorry too." I whispered before bringing her into a hug.

She clung onto me tightly as the new fresh tears fell down her face, sobs erupting from her lungs. All the emotions mixed with the exhaustion was truly taking a toll on her body, but I was prepared to hold her for as long as she needed. Just like I wished someone had held me.

Once her cries quieted down after a few minutes, I spoke quietly to her, "I am always going to be here for you, okay? You're never alone in this. Never." I assured as I held her tighter.

"Okay." she whispered, hiccups building in the back of her throat.

Although I couldn't see her face as she spoke, I knew now that she believed me, and knew that I wasn't going anywhere. Hell, I would be at her beck and call always if that meant saving her life. I somehow knew then that everything would be okay, maybe not at first but it would be. Beth was strong and I could see that so clearly, even if she couldn't see it yet herself, she was going to be okay.

After I knew for sure she was okay for the night, her assuring me multiple times, I said my goodbyes and walked out to send Hershel back in the room to talk to her. Nothing could've probably prepared him for the things that man had to do today, but I just couldn't get over the look on his face. It was like he had seen a ghost when he first burst into the room, and it was devastating.

After I walked out of her bedroom, I found him just sitting a few feet away outside, telling him he was good to head in, but before I could walk away he caught my arm to stop me.

"Thank you for...comforting her at a time like this. I just... I don't know what to say to her once I go in there. But just know I appreciate you Rose, thank you so much." he said with visible tears in his eyes.

I took his hand off my arm, squeezing it tightly, "Just be there for her, okay? Let her do the talking first. And it's no problem, I care about all of you so much."

He nodded and then suddenly did something I didn't expect, he hugged me. I sighed to myself before I was soon hugging him back for a few moments before letting him go after a few short seconds so he could talk to Beth. After watching him go, shutting the door behind him to leave only a crack, I made a beeline down the stairs and out of the house. I practically jogged all the way back to the tent, tears threatening to fall from my eyes as I desperately tried to keep myself together. But the moment I zipped up the entrance, finding myself completely alone, I let it all out.

Seeing Beth like that was too much for me, but I wouldn't dare let her know that. She needed me and I was going to be there for her, however it just brought back painful memories from my past that I so desperately tried to avoid. I just sat there and cried quietly as I hugged my arms around my middle from the slight chill in the night. Rethinking everything that had happened today, I couldn't help but wonder how it could've been different if I had just stayed inside that damn house. How I could've prevented something from happening if I had tracked down Maggie myself. Maybe things could've been different.

But suddenly the zipper of the tent was being opened quickly, and Daryl was making his way inside as he finally returned from his hunt. I quickly looked away from him while frantically wiping my eyes, knowing he hadn't heard me crying, not even noticing I was in here at all at first from how silent I had been.

"Oh, hey." he greeted once his eyes raised from his boots, "I was bout to look for-" he then stopped himself noticing immediately the state that I was in, "Rose? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, coming to kneel in front of me.

I tried to pull myself together, "Nothing, I'm okay." I said as I looked to the side, basically anywhere but his face.

I couldn't look at him, I just knew I would break down if I did. I could already feel the new tears building up in my eyes as I felt him gently take my hand in his and rub the back of it lightly with his thumb.

"Talk to me." he said in a soft voice.

I didn't say anything. I didn't even know where to start, today had just been painfully long and all I wanted was to go to sleep so it would be finally over. It seemed like we couldn't catch a break. And as if it couldn't get any worse, I saw out of the corner of my eye Daryl's eyes were staring down at my wrist as he still held my hand in his. I froze with widened eyes and suddenly didn't know what to do, I couldn't move.

"Rose." he said softly while looking at the scar, moving to take my opposite hand to see the other. But I quickly pulled both hands away from his grasp so he couldn't get a better look.

"Damn it." I cursed silently as I pulled my sleeves back down harshly, wiping my eyes with them as I tried desperately not to look him in the eye. I didn't know what I wanted, for him to leave or stay, when all I could feel now was just utter embarrassment.

He made no sudden movements for what felt like years, until I felt his finger and thumb gripping my chin gently to lift my head to look at him. His thumb rubbed softly on my chin as I finally brought myself to look into his blue eyes.

"Talk to me." he repeated.

That's when the sudden floodgate broke loose, my tears only falling more freely than they did before. I couldn't stop them, there was just so many emotions I was feeling about everything, and I couldn't get all of it out before he came back, so now he was witnessing it firsthand. I felt mortified about crying so much lately, it seemed like all I was able to do, like it was all I was good for these days.

His hands then moved to my cheeks when it began to be too much, his thumbs gently wiping my fresh tears away. He leaned in close to place a soft kiss on my forehead, waiting patiently for me to start talking whenever I was ready. And I did.

I told him what happened with Beth and how she tried to end her life. I ranted about how I should've been there sooner and not just sitting in the tent all damn day, but I didn't know. I should've known, the feeling I had alone was a good enough reason to stay close, but I truly didn't know. Regrettably I also when on to explain my situation as well, seeing as I couldn't really avoid it because of what he barely saw through the darkness.

I told him almost every bit of the conversation I had with her, though it made me the most uncomfortable, I didn't want her to believe she was alone in this. Informing him also that seeing her like that brought back too many memories for me and that's why I had been crying in the first place...and then we sat there. There was just silence. He didn't try to talk one time. He just listened.

After seeing that I was done, not having anything else to say, he finally broke the silence, "Yer one of the greatest people to walk on this earth, ya know that?" he asked.

I was slightly taken aback at what he said, a scoff leaving my lips as I shook my head, "Believe me I'm far from that." I responded, no longer looking at him.

"Look at me." he said softly.

I slowly tore my eyes away from my hands and met his again, almost burning under his gaze. I almost couldn't believe how much I was cowering away from someone I truly trusted, but then again this conversation was one that I didn't want to be having with anyone.

"What ya did for Beth, bein there for her, that's the best thing you can do for her. And showin her she isn't alone through all this, it's amazin what ya did for her today...now about you..." he trailed off, looking back down at my hands sitting in my lap.

He then gently grabbed both of them and slowly rolled both of my sleeves all the way up to the middle of my arm. I tensed when he did this and he noticed, but yet he didn't stop. He raised my left wrist up to his lips, and began to leave soft kisses over every inch of the scar. Then moved to my right wrist and did the same exact thing, leaving goosebumps on my skin, but a warmth in my heart.

He held both of my hands tightly once he was done, looking back up at me as he spoke again, "Yer so strong, and ya never have to be ashamed of these. They're just marks on yer body to show that ya made it, even when things were really hard. I get yer ashamed of showin em, but you don't have to be. Not with me." he finished.

I stared at the man in front of me in awe. Nobody had ever spoken so beautifully about me like this before. Nobody had ever complimented the thing that I was the most insecure about. No one had ever kissed the places I had once hurt so badly. Nobody except him.

Tears built up back in my eyes, but this time for a completely different reason. I was quick to take my hands out of his, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to bring him into a hug as I felt I could finally breathe.

I heard what sounded like a sigh of relief come from him as he quickly wrapped his arms around me as well. Maybe he was worried about what he had said upset me, but it did quite the opposite. It made me relieved. Relieved that someone cared enough for me to not only see the good side of me but also the bad.

But with the way he spoke, and the way he was hugging me back so tightly, it almost made me question if he knew the feeling as well. The feeling of being ashamed or insecure because of something marking you from your past. And maybe he did. But I wasn't going to ask. I would wait until he felt comfortable enough to tell me, like he did for me just moments ago.

~ Thanks for reading!

[jupebox]

good grief it took me over a month to finally finish my hourlies from this year but i did finish them!!!! watercolor on a weird accordion notebook i found in my paper stash. i bought myself some fun sparkly and color changing watercolors on etsy and tested the sparkles out for shiny fuecoco and the “ALEX!!!” panel, so, included a closeup of those at the end so you can see the sparples.

Transcript provided below the cut for people who can’t read my chicken scratch!

6:40 “i need to get an autofeeder”

i am sleeping. my alarm starts beeping, and immediately my cat begins screaming at full volume, leading me to her empty food bowl. Once I put food into the bowl, the scream morphs into eating noises. with a dead-eyed stare, i contemplate this. my father says “good morning!” after a pause, I reply “no, good night”. the munching noises continue through all the final panels.

7:20 “i should enable do not disturb”

i am back asleep. my phone buzzes with a “bzzt”. On the screen is a picture of a bunny and a message that reads “LOL that’s totally my bunny!!”. i put the phone down, thinking “cute”. after a beat, I look back up and my internal monologue says “oh god i said so much stupid stuff in yesterday’s interview. there’s no way i’m getting that job now. aaaauuuugh brain shut UP”. The last panel is a small zoomed out drawing of me upset and screaming aaAAAAaaa

8:40 “undending regrets”

i am still in bed. my phone buzzes with a “bzzt” again. The screen says “interview: thanks for the email! feel free to ask any questions! :) - name”. the last panel is a zoomed in closeup of my upset face, surrounded by my internal scream of “I SAID SO MUCH STUPID STUFF”

9:40 “do it for him”

i am STILL in bed, but annoyed, when my phone buzzes with a “bzzt” again. This time the screen says “bro: hey when do we need to book kirby cafe stuff”. the last panel is me typing furiously on the phone while thinking “yeah I’ll wake up for that”

10-10:30 “too bad about those 530 fuecoco eggs”

I am playing pokemon on my nintendo switch. I say “ah. my whole team is physical attackers, huh”. the screen shows a tinkatuff, a flamigo, and the top of a veluza. The last panel shows a rabsca, with the text “except for the one that sucks, huh.”

10:30-11:15 “cleaning the bathrooms + harrow the ninth”

I am wiping down the counter in a bathroom, wearing headphones. text across the top of the panels reads “...because in those eyes, you were already dead. Your 18th birthday passe-” and is interrupted by me looking up, incredulous, saying “18???” loudly. “HARROW IS 18!? BABIES!!!” I say, while holding cleaning supplies. The last panel is just text that reads “i am absolutely mercymorn.”

11:25 “going for a walk outside!”

the first panel is a drawing of me, all bundled up. there are labels pointing to all of the warm things I am wearing - hat, scarf, hoodie, fingerless gloves, turtleneck. The second panel is me surrounded by people in tshirts. the text says “Forecast: 45F and sunny. I am a californian.”

11:30-12:05 “priorities”

i am walking by the river with my friend and infodumping about my pokemon troubles. I am saying “...and even after like 600 eggs we STILL didn’t hatch any shiny fuecoco”. “oh my god” she replies. “wait.” she says in panel 2, with a consternated look on her face, “so, winning a boss battle with items is “tedious” but spending 10 hours breeding eggs is a fun challenge?” a tiny chibi of me holds up a finger and says “listen.” in the last panel, as though this were any kind of defense.

12:05-12:15 “impeccable timing”

my friend is walking toward her car; we have finished our walk. “lunch at that indian place?” she asks. “yeah! i don’t actually know the address but i’ll google it” i confirm. “ok, see you there!” she says, and then leaves. in the second panel I type “indian” into google maps. in the third panel my phone fucking dies. in the last panel, i stare down at it with a customer service smile, text above my head “r u srs”

12:20 “little white lies”

we’re sitting down at a booth in the indian restaurant (i did finally manage to reboot my phone and get there but that’s another story). My friend is looking around while holding a glass of water. she says “my friend was upset when i said i was checking out this place without her”. “oh no!” i reply, “should we go somewhere else?” my friend waves off my concerns in panel 2 with a “nah, it’s fine. let’s see if it’s as good as she said”. Just then, our food arrives. The third panel is drawings of the food we ordered, with my star ratings and descriptions next to each. they are:

veggie biryani: 1.5 stars. flavorless & wet. veggies good tho

cauliflower pakora: .5 stars. flavorless & dry. somehow worse with the sauces

chicken tikka masala: 3 stars. rice was fine. sauce was fine. spice level ok. best thing we got

garlic naan: 2.5 stars. as crunchy garlic bread, delicious. as naan, useless

panel 4 is a top down view of us contemplating our empty plates. in the last panel, my friend is sweating and thinking hard, and says “when she asks me if it was good i dunno if i’ll be able to lie.” i encourage her “be strong”

1pm “and i get to pet her every day!”

my friend and i have gone to my house. we are knelt down on the floor trying to entice my cat to come closer. i am saying “hey business! wanna come meet my friend?” my friend is making “pss pss pss” noises. business peeks around the corner and cautiously approaches our outstretched hands. as soon as we reach for her, she shrinks away warily though, while my friend says “oh nope ok”. she finally acquiesces to being touched, but is highly suspicious. my friend says “oh! she is SO soft!’ and I reply with “ikr”

2pm “i want a rematch”

we are playing wingspan and tallying points. I have a phone in my hand, using the calculator app. in the first panel I say “so after adding up my birds, eggs, tokens, tucked birds, round points, and bonus cards, my total is-” in panel 2 i squint at my phone. panel 3: “how many points did you have”. my friend says “uhhh 73?” with a shrug. in panel 4 i flip the phone around to reveal that the score in the calculator app is 72. my friend is delighted and surprised in panel 5, saying, “i won?” I scream in outrage “BY ONE POINT”

3pm “jump to recipe”

This is a text heavy comic. in panel one there is a drawing of a vegetable in a strainer in a sink, with the text “my mom & i trade off cooking. today i’m making chinese broccoli!” panel 2 shows me cutting the ends off of the chinese broccoli, with the text “i had a few things i really wanted to learn to make when i took up cooking, & dim sum-style gai lan was near the top of the list”. the last panel says “i’ve now prepared it enough times that i don’t need to look up the recipe anymore!” and the picture shows the ingredients - sliced ginger root, 1 pound gai lan, garlic, enough water to cover the gai lan, 1 tsp baking soda, 2-3 tsp salt

4pm “5 stars!”

I am lounging on the couch, texting someone while my cat is on top of me. “made rin’s cheater chicken soup today!” i text. “oh yeah?” “yeah!” the second panel says “i just subbed the gai lan cooking liquid for the chicken broth, whatever veggies we had in the fridge for the frozen veggies, and pork potstickers for the chicken wontons!” each substitution is accompanied by a little drawing of the intended ingredient and the replacement. the last panel reads “... so you made a completely different recipe.” “yeah i sure fucking did huh”. i stare off into the distance with tears tracking down my smiling face, with a tiny “gomen” next to my head.

5pm “noble snacrifice”

each panel has a caption and small drawing. panel 1: “i overcooked....... the soup.........” with a drawing of a large pot of soup. in the pot there are indistinguishable vegetables, labeled “formerly: baby bok choy. now: mush, sad, unappetizing”. panel 2: “the textures are all wrong....” i am eating the soup with a tearful face, saying “weh”. panel 3: “but business was asleep on my feet & i couldn’t turn off the burner in time...” with a drawing of business asleep and purring

6pm “watching recovery of an mmo junkie”

i am sitting in bed with a laptop on my lap, leaning forward, invested, saying “does sakurai have the brain cell???” in the second panel i am making a victorious pose and shouting “HE DOOO” (fuck yeah!) while the laptop goes flying

7pm “friendship is magic”

i’m still lying in bed on the laptop, when my phone buzzes with another “bzzt”. The notification reads “joltik tagged you in a tweet”. panel 3 is a drawing of a tweet from “edelgard stan 4 lyfe (@tinyjoltiks)” that is just “@jupeboxal” and an image. the image is of a shiny fuecoco, with the text “fuecoco hatched from the egg!” the last panel is a chibi drawing of my overwhelmed and joyfully tearful face, with an enormous “ALEX!!!!” caption

8pm “tOo BaD aBoUt ThOsE 530 fUeCoCo EgGs”

it is a single panel. the panel is a 5 x 11 grid of tiny non-shiny fuecocos as you might see in a box view in pokemon scarlet/violet. There is a text dialogue at the bottom of the panel that says “Would you like to save your progress and start the Surprise Trade?”

9pm “no seriously where can you buy these”

In the first panel I am peering at a bookcase full of notebooks and art supplies, thinking “hmm what should I draw my hourlies on?” in the second panel i am selecting one notebook and thinking “i gotta have some watercolor paper somewhere”. the last panel is me stretching out an accordion watercolor journal with bugged out eyes, thinking “THIS IS SO COOL??? WHERE DID I GET THIS???”

10pm “she never leaves you guessing”

i am in bed again but now I am drawing in the watercolor notebook with little “skitch skitch skitch” sound effects. a large brightly-colored “MOW” yelling bubble appears at the bottom of the panel. the second panel is overlapping MOW” speech bubbles surrounding me, no longer drawing. panel 3 is from my perspective, of the door to my room, where my cat is screaming “MOW” with a hair tie in her mouth. In the last panel, I have put down the notebook and am sitting up saying “ah. it is play time.” while my cat stands demandingly on the bed, having dropped the hair tie in front of me, with a very long loud “MOOOOOOOW!!!” spanning the entire panel in the background

11pm “it’s something”

a drawing of the accordion watercolor notebook, unfolded. Outside of the notebook, the text reads “finally working on hourlies!” with sparkles surrounding the word “hourlies”. inside the notebook there is a sketchy drawing of the first comic, the one from 6:40. the next page of the notebook says “...hourly”. the next page says “i did one.” the next page has a drawing of the “it’s something” rage comic person, and the page after that says “it’s something.”

[dennydraws]

No Buy 2023 - Art Supplies

Hello, hello and Good Morning! It's not quite January anymore to make new year resolutions but about a month ago I decided I need to do something about my art supply hoarding tendencies :D;;; Even if I'm not even close to what I see on art videos, it doesn't quite sit well with me when I have more than I use and clutter is something I don't like around me.

So! This year, let's tackle some art supplies with reckless abandon!!

Step 1 - Catalog all your supplies I want to say this was a tough one but it was actually fairly easy for me. I could mostly name everything from the top of my head xD:; And to be expected the most glaring issue with me was all the unfinished sketchbooks that I keep piling. I listed, ahem...about fourteen sketchbooks... 2 of which are pass half point to finish, 8 of which are started and for one reason or another abandoned and rest are not even opened.

Whenever I get the urge to buy new sketchbooks I will remind myself of the list I made. I'm fairly sure I got some more hiding in random corners too.

Anyway! Target list:

Step 2 - Discard what is no longer usable Ok testing everything did take time but it did also cut some chunk of art supplies. It also made me realize I had some markers I barely used and they had dried out exactly cause I had barely used them... a lesson to learn. Again. About a year ago I noticed some of my fave colors have dried cause I was savoring them maybe a bit too much lol. Once more the copics are holding up like absolute troopers. Sad to say the spectrum noir markers just dry really fast, especially if you aren't using them as soon as you open them. They are still wonderful markers mind you!

Well, I don't plan to use my copics with reckless abandon but I do plan to use all the watercolors I have for I have quite a lot xD;; including tubes, another set and gouache set that I have stashed away;;;

Step 3 - Pair the materials! I usually tend to make a test ground page at the start of every sketchbook but if I'm to test everything ... I may burn out so, I'll just stick to quick tests and if something doesn't work out, turn a page and carry on.

Step 4 - Write down the progress! If you're like me, you exist with little lists and check box and see everything as little exp bar that you feel and celebrate when you complete it :D;; And this challenge is no different for me. Every month I will be writing down what I've used, did I actually used all of it, did I learn or enjoy this medium etc...

But yes, this will be my process for the year! Maybe by end of December I will have a long post of what I finished, what I didn't etc :D;; hopefully more finished than unfinished! At the end art is personal and it should be done in a way that sparks joy for you. For me, I need order in my compulsive doodling tendencies. Unfinished things stress me and I hope I get to close the last pages of some sketchbooks and throw away some empty art supplies now that they served their purpose - maybe even discover that I really enjoy some mediums I barely had used before \o/

Thank you for stopping by, dear reader! I hope you have a wonderful week full of inspiration and ideas! Maybe this little read inspired you to catalog your own art supplies and do some spring cleaning!

[katherinejblackwell]

Katherine's Tea Party 2- DIY Book Gift Ideas for the Christmas Procrastinator

Also read on my website!

Photo by Liza Summer

There is no one more adept at procrastinating Christmas gifts than I. Even if I have all of my ideas lined up by October, I will undoubtedly be ordering or making something (or several somethings) at the last minute. For those of you who are like me, and have reader friends who you need a gift for, I've compiled a list of what I hope are creative, thoughtful gift ideas for the book nerd in your life. My goal was that each idea would be unique as well as being achievable either with materials you might already have or that could be obtained at a low cost. I also tried to keep time in mind and mostly selected ideas that should only take an afternoon or two, so each DIY should still be possible if you're nearing Christmas and short on time. I also added a few budget-friendly, non-DIY failsafe options at the end to fall back on if you run out of time or energy to make something.

Idea 1- Bookmarks

Bookmarks are easy to make and there are tons of different ways to make them. If all you have available is paper, you can try this origami corner bookmark. The tutorial I've linked by Red Ted art is super easy to follow, and the project itself is one of the easiest origami projects I've come across, so this is a great one for beginner crafters or someone on a time crunch. Even if all you have is plain paper, you can personalize your finished bookmark by drawing designs on it. If you want something more intricate or are looking for a different vibe, I found this YouTube channel completely dedicated to making origami bookmarks. They have over 100 videos showing the full process of how to make each bookmark. Just at a glance I've found hearts, butterflies, and even a video showing six holiday bookmarks that would make perfect seasonally-appropriate gifts. (My favorite, however, is this adorable little lion.)

If you're more into drawing or painting, you can also make a more traditional bookmark with a strip of paper and some art supplies. There are loads of tutorials online for watercolor bookmarks in particular, but you could use any art supply as long it won't rub off on a book's pages, like chalk pastels or oil pastels would (I have heard that there are ways to seal drawings made with pastels, so theoretically you could use them, but I would do so at your own risk). Supplies like colored pencils, markers, watercolors, and pens should all be safe. And you don't have to limit yourself to the designs you find online. I would highly encourage getting creative, thinking about what the person you're gifting to likes, and drawing or painting whatever you want on your bookmark. If you need some inspiration, though, you could pull from this list on my Pinterest. 

Lastly, if you're into collaging and collecting bits of paper like me, you could try making a mini collage on a bookmark. I made this one for myself last year to match a copy of The Hobbit. There are, of course, loads of other examples online you can draw inspiration from. I particularly like this one and these that I found on Pinterest, but there are also lots of great examples and tutorials you can find on YouTube just by searching "collage bookmark."

 Idea 2- Mini Books

If you know some of your bookworm's favorite books, making mini versions could be a great gift! It's a little more tedious than some of the other crafts on this list, especially depending on your method and how many books you decide to do, but I think the payoff is well worth it. Sorry, Booked Solid's tutorial shows what I think is the quickest way to make lots of books at once, but if you don't have access to craft foam or would prefer the look of real pages, Corinne Blackstone has a different method in her video using paper and glue.

If you don't want to just stick the books into a jar or ornament, you could also use one by itself or glue some together in a stack to make a different style of ornament. Or, if the person you're gifting to likes jewelry, you could use something like an awl, safety pin, or needle to poke holes in the books and use jump rings to make charms to put on necklaces, bracelets, or earrings. You could also theoretically use the charm for a keychain, but with the amount of wear and tear it would experience, it may not hold up.

Idea 3- Customize a journal

While not true for everyone, I've noticed that most of the readers in my life also tend to be writers in some way. Whether they enjoy writing up their own stories, writing poetry, or journaling, a customized journal can be a thoughtful and useful gift.

The best notebooks for this craft would be something with a paper cover, since the paper will allow you to work with a wider variety of materials, such as colored pencils, crayons, pens, inks, and markers. However, most notebook covers should work with acrylic paints, paint markers, and glue-- and stickers should work on just about anything. You might want to be careful with materials that seem super plastic-y or reflective, though. Think the notebooks you would use in school. The paint may not stick as well and you could end up with a streaky, globby, or peely mess. If you decide to paint on a plastic cover, go slowly and allow plenty of drying time between layers. You may also want to put some type of clear sealant-- like Mod Podge, Maker's Magic, or some sort of spray finish-- on top as well to prevent flaking.

Idea 4- TBR Jar

If you have a friend who struggles to pick what they want to read, this will be an especially great gift. It's also probably the easiest gift on this list to make, so it's good for anyone who's running really low on time or who wants to avoid anything too crafty. All you need is a jar, some paper, and minimal decorations if you feel like it. Simply cut the paper into small pieces or strips, write the titles of books you think your friend would enjoy on the bits of paper, fold them up, and pop them into the jar. You could use the internet or another book lover in your life for help with good book ideas if you aren't much of a reader yourself. If your friend enjoys writing, you could put writing or journaling prompts in the jar instead to give them some inspiration!

For decoration, you could use paint or paint markers to make designs on the glass, add stickers, or tie some string/ribbon around the neck of the jar. If you really want to be extra, I found this jar on Pinterest that uses origami stars in place of the folded slips of paper, and this one that uses teeny tiny little scrolls. This could also be a fun way to use the mini books from earlier, making mini versions of all the books you think the person would like and putting those in the jar instead of the pieces of paper.

Idea 5- Non-DIY Failsafe Gift Ideas

Even if you have time to make something, that doesn't mean you have the energy. The stretch of time around the holiday season can be exhausting for a number of reasons, and there's no shame in needing a cheap and easy gift. So, along with the DIY gift ideas, here's a little list of easy gifts within $25 any reader would love to receive.

Gift Card- Even though it may seem basic, you really can't go wrong with a gift card to your local bookstore. Especially if you aren't sure what kinds of books the reader in your life is into, this a great way to make sure they'll get something they love. If you're worried about it seeming impersonal, you can pair it with something like a box of their favorite tea/coffee/hot cocoa mix or some new bookmarks, and a heartfelt, handwritten card.

Tea- For your favorite bookworm who is also a tea-enjoyer, buying an assortment of teas you think they'd like, along with a known favorite or two, could be a great gift. Boxes of tea bags at your run-of-the-mill supermarket tend to only be a few dollars each, so you can get an assortment without going over budget.

Book Stamp- If the reader in your life is always lending their books to others (or leaving them places), a "This Book Belongs To" stamp would make a thoughtful gift. You can buy a basic one and the accompanying ink pad from Michael's for just over $10 or, if you have an extra $10-15, there are tons of sellers out there offering personalized stamps.

Bookmarks- I feel like 70% of this post is just me advocating for bookmarks at this point, but I really do love them and they are a really great inexpensive gift, especially if you know the person you're gifting to doesn't have that many. There are loads of independent sellers you can support when you buy bookmarks too, such as this artist whose style I absolutely love who sells lots of bookmark bundles that are perfect for gifting. I also keep seeing embroidered corner bookmarks everywhere and I think they are absolutely darling and would make an amazing gift.

Annotating Supplies- Annotation has always been a thing, but it seems to have been growing in popularity in recent years. I see scores of people showing off their colorfully annotated books online all the time, and there's a chance your bookworm may be interested in annotating too. If you don't know where to start with annotating supplies, you can look at annotating kits online and either find one you like or use them as inspiration to pick out your own supplies.

Book Rec and Drink of the Month

Photo by Ylanite Koppens

Coming as a surprise to absolutely no one, my book rec for the month is literally ANY of The Hunger Games books. It is my favorite series in the whole world and I've barely thought about anything else since reading/watching Songbirds and Snakes. After reading the original trilogy for the second time this year, I immediately put Songbirds and Snakes on hold at my library again and started listening to the audiobooks every second I could. I am completely obsessed with this series right now. 

And for my drink, I'm recommending peppermint hot chocolate. The chocolate-mint combination has been on my mind ever since I remembered that peppermint M&M's exist, and I rather skeptically tried a peppermint hot chocolate the other night, thinking the mint would be overpowering. I was very much proven wrong, it was so good and tasted like Christmas to me and made me feel all warm and cheery. I think it'll be my go-to drink for the rest of the year and if you're into hot chocolate you should absolutely try one. 

Thank you for joining me for this month's tea party! I hope you enjoyed yourself and that you're having a lovely holiday season so far. I'll be back in the new year with a list of reading resolutions and I'm really looking forward to spending this next year talking about things that make me happy in my little corner of the internet.

For anyone reading: no matter what you'll be celebrating, I hope you have a safe, healthy, and very happy holiday season. May the book gods bless thee with ample time to read and plenty of beverages to sip!

[matthewbeilschmidts]

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

-

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

-

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

-

And so their friendship starts.

-

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

-

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

-

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

-

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

-

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

-

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

-

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

-

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

-

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.

[weeklysparksofjoy]

8.9.20 - 8.16.20

What a whirlwind of a week. This week was my first week off for summer break. I had finally wrapped up my internship and spent a week soaking in the pleasures of life, aka just video games since it’s quarantine time. As a result, this week was filled with fun leisurely activities and naturally, house cleaning. So look down below for what really sparked joy during my period of respite and of fulfilling homeownership responsibilities. 

Items

IKEA Karlby (1): Given the current times, a good work-from-home place is a must. It was time to upgrade our cheap $34 Linnmon tables. This was our desk table for 3 years! 3 years! We had silver legs instead of the bright blue ones featured on IKEA’s page, but still, this was literally the cheapest table we could get from IKEA. Now that I will be starting my doctorate program and my boyfriend is working fully remote, plus something called COVID, it was time for us to get a proper office set-up. Enter the Karlby. Yes, it is a countertop. It’s a beautiful, 60 lb., long slab of sort-of wood that gives me enough space to lay 3 monitors on it, if I pleased. If you remember last week’s post on the IKEA Alex , those are the base for our desk. We have one underneath each end of the Karlby and all we had to do was put a non-slip adhesive on top of the Alexes and that was it. No drilling necessary to put two and one together. Essentially, our set-up looks like this (thank you random person from the internet for the photo). It is beautiful and freeing and space to breathe. 

Ridgid Shop Vacuum and Toshiba Dehumidifier: Now, for a not as freeing item, but a stress-relief item that I am just truly grateful for. I love storms. I love the sound of the rain hammering against the glass. I love the color of the sky. I love the nostalgia of childhood rainstorms. What I had not yet experienced until this week was what comes with rain - possible flooding. Maryland was hit with rain for almost a week. It was flash flood warning after flash flood warning. Being in the new house, we were tricked into comfort that our sump pump was in working condition. It had only been a month since we moved in and it had passed inspection. It had worked. But let this be a life lesson, after any storm, just check your basement to be sure. We had moved our old Linnmon desks into the basement to make room for the new desks when we stumbled upon the shallow pools of water. Long story short - we had to replace the sump pump. But the basement doesn’t slope down towards it, so we still had standing water. I ran a quick google search after my failed attempt to mop all the water towards the sump pump left us with only a little bit less of water and found that pros recommended a shop vacuum. We rushed over to Home Depot to get there 30 minutes before closing time. Initially, we planned to rent the shop vac for a third of its selling price, but who knows what might happen in the future, so we just bought the thing out right. We purchased the Ridgid 12 gallon wet/dry shop vacuum and watched that thing just inhale all the water from the floors. I had essentially wasted 30 minutes of my life mopping that mess and should have just purchased the shop vac instead. This was such a relief. I was worried we’d have to hire more professionals to clear the flooded waters, but nope, this made it so easy. Sure, there was a bit of water left, but when coupled with the Toshiba 50-pint dehumidifier, which we bought during the same trip, the floor was clear of a single drop of water the next morning. We felt guilty placing the sleek dehumidifier in our unfinished basement, but it fulfilled its role with 5 stars. As a first-time homeowner, the flooding was rather stressful - from worrying about safety to waiting on available professionals, but these two items let me sleep soundly after a long, hectic day. Last, but not least, I need to thank Len the Plumber for sending us a technician within the specified time window (unlike Roto-Rooter) and for the tech replacing our sump pump so quickly! This was definitely a learning experience and although it seems more like a spark of gratitude, I do have to say a clean environment sparks joy for me!   

Weed B Gone: Another spark of joy from a clean environment came from our backyard. When we moved in, our backyard was completely ridden with weeds. There was not a blade of grass to be seen. Nevertheless, the weeds were probably about a foot tall. Fast forward a few weeks, where us naive millennials had neglected to care for this problem while continuing to move out of our old apartment and into the new house, and we have ourselves 3-feet tall weeds. I lie not. They were up to my hip. Anyway, they were a major stressor and a persistent nag in the back of my mind. Thus, I got to work and sprayed some Weed B Gone after identifying the majority of the weeds as crabgrass. Alright, so the label says it works immediately - that’s a lie, but it did work in a couple of days. Each day, I would stand by the back door and gloat over the sight of the increasingly limp weeds. Within a week, they were yellowing and hanging over the patio. Once again, this week I found joy in cleanliness and in accomplishing a stress-inducing task.

Video Games

Darkest Dungeon (2): I promise I did not spend my entire week off cleaning. I actually spent most of it playing Darkest Dungeon. I normally hate single-player games, but this one was so fun. I was so addicted to it that I played it almost every day. I really enjoyed building my team, figuring out how to defeat the enemies, and just learning the inside tricks for dungeon interactions. It’s not difficult to learn and I would definitely recommend the game for others!

TV Shows

Star Wars (3): The Clone Wars: My boyfriend and I began watching all Star Wars content in chronological order back in June and we finally finished all of The Clone Wars. I really enjoyed watching The Clone of Wars even though it’s touted as a children’ show. Those final four episodes of season 7 were so beautifully done and had us rooting for Ahsoka the entire time. As a side note, we actually watched Revenge of the Sith in 4(?) different chunks. We followed a guide that showed us where to stop, so that we actually heard some lines repeated in the movie and in The Clone Wars, which was pretty cool. We didn’t follow this guide, but this one is more precise than the one that we used. If you are remotely interested in Star Wars, I recommend you give this challenge a try. It was a lot of fun and touching to see the character development. Also, this may be heinous to say - but the writing in The Clone Wars was better than the prequels’.

Videos

Chloe Ting: I’ve been doing Chloe Ting’s workouts for over a month now. I’ve wrapped up the 4 weeks summer shred challenge and am currently in the middle of the 15 days intense core challenge. I have to say that her videos have successfully transformed me into a daily workouter (I practice Yoga with Adriene during rest days). I actually find myself needing to workout daily, like if I know that I have a busy day ahead, I will figure out how to fit a workout in - no excuses. The truth is I look forward to these workouts and to reflecting upon my progress. I find myself becoming stronger, completing exercises I couldn’t execute the first time around. Even though my weight has actually increased, I feel great and more confident. 

Makoccino (4): Last, but not least, this week I made more time for art - something I haven’t done for a long time. I think after high school I was such a workaholic, bouncing from club to club and job to job, that I didn’t give myself to have fun by myself. Makoccino’s videos helped me take the step forward and purchase the art supplies to get started in my watercolor painting journey. I began with her beginners video, which was super easy to follow and although my painting still turned out to look like a product of those wine and paint classes, it still encouraged me to continue further. Watercolor painting is so relaxing and seeing the end product is just so satisfying. 

That concludes this week’s sparks of joys, but just to highlight a pattern throughout these posts, joy comes in different shapes and sizes. Joy is often intermixed with other emotions that may sometimes obscure it. If there is anything this practice has taught me is that identifying joys in life on a consistent basis requires patience and a willingness to tease apart the whirlwind of emotions inside us.

Special thanks to Cassie for designing the image! Check out her work on instagram: https://www.instagram.com/meta__morphosis__design/

[whichstiel]

I made this art for the 2019 Dean/Cas Tropefest. (HUGE thanks to the mods, Jojo and Muse, for being amazing!) As soon as I read through the summaries, I knew I needed to try to grab the DRAGON STORY right away. I just...really love dragons, okay? This story is delightful and unexpected, with lovely world-building, rich side characters, and a beautiful romance between Dean and Cas. I really enjoyed reading it and working with zaphodsgirl! You can read Shadow & Storm by zaphodsgirl now! You’ll love it. <3

Here’s the summary:

One night, a mysterious visitor appears in young Prince Dean's bedroom, and he suddenly finds himself transported to an abandoned replica of his home in an unknown land. He learns quickly that the borders are finite, and none may leave without incurring the wrath of the guardian: a dragon the people call Storm.

Left with no choice, Dean adapts to life as the others have, tending to the animals and working the land to survive. As he grows up, the life he knew as a prince seems more and more distant, until a new person arrives that he remembers from his childhood. Shaken by this arrival, Dean’s desire to escape returns anew, and he discovers more than he wanted to know about the Shadowlands and its occupants -- especially about the mysterious guardian of the castle, Castiel.

Continue reading for some insight into the process and drafts behind the art.

Reading this story, I was struck by its lovely fairy tale vibe, which inspired me to make some kind of story-book art. I’ve always enjoyed pop-up books, so that seemed like a fun thing to try. My first step was to learn more about pop-ups. I turned to the internet for ideas, and found recommendations for: Pop-up design and paper mechanics, by Duncan Birmingham. This was a really useful book (I got it from the library - and you can too!) It gave me some basic structures and some general rules of thumb for how things fold and work when opened. I stuck with the simpler forms, given the short time period before posting.

Tools & supplies:

Cardstock paper

Watercolor paper (for the folding pages/backdrops and some stand-ups)

Watercolors, colored pencil, sharpie markers

Glue (I really like this scrapbooker’s glue pen for paperwork. Dries FAST and mostly doesn’t warp.)

Scissors, precision knife, ruler, protractor

Bone folder for pressing seams

Once I had some broad ideas of some of the rules of pop-up creation, I started to sketch out some quick ideas. I always like to start with the cover image, since that’s the main image people see when they’re browsing a story list. I did a few basic sketches on paper, but I decided the easiest way to develop these pop-up pieces would be to do what Birmingham called “paper sketching.” With paper sketching, you just...eyeball the pieces, attach it to a folded piece of paper, and cut away whatever paper you don’t want. It’s sort of like working with negative space in that way. Paper sketching was invaluable for helping me figure out things like: how tall should the mountains be? How high are the wings? What can fold together to lay flat? (Because I wanted this to be a functional book.) How long can I make that flame spout? (Not long, as it turned out.)

Here are some paper sketches I made of the cover image. A few of these were before I re-read the story and realized that the castle was built INTO the mountain. Oops. Building drafts helped me to realize that the concept was possible. Once I had some general structures under my belt, I could start to do the finer work of cutting out the final pieces. Draft work was typically done with sketchbook paper or cheap cardstock from Walgreens.

(Left: first draft; Right: Oh my god maybe this will actually work)

I wanted the cover to convey the full expanse of the lands surrounding the castle. I made my author draw me an actual map and diagram of all the agricultural lands. Thanks, zaphodsgirl! I chose black paper for the cover for REASONS you will discover when you read the story.

(Left: background watercolor progress with marker details; Right: taping in a quick test sketch to see if it will fit with the dragon and to test the angle)

Behind the scenes

For each design, I started by painting a watercolor backdrop, making note of the center where I’d need to fold the page. Watercolor paper was a pretty good choice because it’s thick and you can really crease the hell out of that middle joint - and the page stays strong. The cover is the most detailed. For the others, I went with more imprecise watercolor washes - mostly in the interest of time.

Finding a good backdrop is always a challenge when photographing art, and was a big issue for the cover since that dragon really gets lost if there’s too much in the background. I decided to go “Maria from Sound of Music” and pull down one of my curtains as a backdrop. That, plus desk lamps for light made a pretty good set.

This piece features Castiel fading into the dragon. I suffered from proportion control for this project but chose to forge on ahead, anyway. Sometimes the dragon is huge, sometimes it’s small. Oooooh well, it’s a dragon, anyway. :D The little Dean torso is intended to be a manually-opened inset, more to show his reaction than anything else. The dragon is 5 pieces - tail, head and forepaw, wings, and body. Castiel is a single piece; his fold is attached to the dragon and there’s a little paper accordion behind his head to keep him upright.

(Top left: I hate concept sketches; Top right: Cas coming together. I made him too tall! Oh well, I’m gonna roll with it)

Behind the scenes

This next piece was actually the second one I did, because it was the most complex and I wanted to get it finished so I wouldn’t fret over it. The red light is from a bicycle tail-light that I’m holding in the air with one hand while taking a photo with the other. I just really liked that little shadow claw on the ground!

This dragon was somewhat inspired by a Game of Thrones popup my author shared with me. My dragon isn’t as complex, but it still opens wide and closes flat, so I’m happy. It’s basically built as an upside down triangle, cut into a folded piece of paper. The fold is on the bottom. You can draw a line from the fold in its snout to a fold on its torso. The spines were cut out and glued on after the fact because I completely forgot to add them!!!

I was having some trouble with the wings attaching properly, so my test models had the dragon at various stages of height or angles from the ground. Too high and it would pop beyond the book pages. Too low and it might as well be sitting on the page completely. The dragon body has built-in tabs to which the wings are glued and the forest cutouts have this as well, for max strength. This is one of those cards where I went through enough drafts that I resorted to tape as a quick-hold option to figure out things like height and angle and how much dragon could fit in the folded pages. I ended up using an actual tool with (gasp) measurements to finally get the angle of the forest inserts right. Folding the test dragon into the card, I actually just sliced off the excess wing and tail that peeked out from the edges, then used that space when I was cutting out my final dragon.

For each of these, it’s best to get your pattern pieces as close as possible and then use that to cut your final pieces. The angles and length of everything needs to be fairly precise or what worked in your draft won’t fold well in the final version.

(Top left: So many draft pieces, so little time; Top right: Use math, kids!; Bottom: Dragon open and closed)

Behind the scenes

The last piece is modeled after a simple folding animal style. Its feet are glued symmetrically over the fold.

It’s essentially a folded piece of cardstock with an animal cut out of it. The head is attached separately, as are the wings and Amara. I had a star hole punch, which made it easy to add some stars to Amara’s gown as well as on the page. I’d wanted to do a big fold-out window arch here, but realized that it wouldn’t fit over the dragon or the Dean/Cas fold. Ah well. Please imagine it, instead.

(Top left: concept sketch; Top right: Paper sketching is a great reality check; Bottom: Amara astride Storm)

Behind the scenes

The final step was to turn this into some kind of book. At first, I planned to stitch the pages together. I’d never bound a book before, and I was cursing myself for putting down all those layers of pop-up inserts if I was going to have to stitch through each page. Then I looked at some pop-up books and realized that often just the edges of the pages are glued, leaving the middle to float as necessary. This was good, because it was a way easier option! (Also the dragon in the forest came out a little tight, so the float was very helpful there.)

I glued the page edges and, since they were a little curly from the watercolor and popup designs pulling at them, I weighted them with books to dry for a while.

I found an old book cover that would work (from a very outdated technology textbook). I sliced out the original pages, recovered the book with black paper, and glued in my new book pages on the front and back. It was a perfect fit!

I finished with time to spare, so I added a little watercolor and paper cut-out picture and frame to the front and back to add some flair. Please enjoy my terrible glue job. (I forgot to smooth the paper.)

I used a hair tie cut in half to hold the pages down for photographs (or display). I clipped two wedge-shaped bag clips to the underside of each tie to weigh down each side, and hold the book open at a slight angle.

This was a fun and challenging project to work on, and I’m so grateful to zaphodsgirl for all her effusive words and gifs of encouragement. You’re going to love this sweet story. Go read it now! Shadow & Storm on AO3.

(And if you feeling like tossing a comment my way, I’d love to hear from you here on Tumblr or on my art post on AO3.) 

[comicteaparty]

June 13th-June 19th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 13th, 2020 to June 19th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

What is your physical and digital workspace like when you’re working on your story?

🌈ERROR404 ��

LOL it really depends on what stage I'm in of the process - My storyboarding space is at home, as comfortable as I can be, a beer and some food at the ready and pure silence. The cats have to be freshly fed, otherwise I'll be harassed and lose my headspace entirely LOL. I usually work on my story boards digitally, just at a very small scale, with my script/outline on my computer and working on my ipad! The double screen helps a LOT, although i would just print out the script if I had access to a printer, haha. When I'm working on the actual page itself, it's a very different story. I usually just try and work on it in tiny little batches during the day when I'm stuck at home, and usually work around the animals as best i can, lmao. Truthfully, I really prefer to be in a coffee shop when I'm working on finishing pages, it makes me so much more productive than i am in this house with so many things to take care of right in front of me, but, obviously, that's a bit difficult to do these days. ;; I usually reserve food and drink until after I pass a milestone in inking/sketching to help motivate me to keep going for as much as I can before taking a break, and I need some kind of music or video playing in the background to keep myself from being absolutely bored out of my mind. My shading process, since it's in black and white, is very easy and i can finish it in one setting, easy, no matter what I'm working with. I also work digitally for my pages, of course, although I don't need more than my ipad and clip studio for it!

DaeofthePast

freshly fed cats

🌈ERROR404 🌈

They are BEASTS when hungry, the little bastards (love them)

I may only work in peace when they're post-food napping lmao

DaeofthePast

we only have one, but same

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I work almost entirely in the corner of my IKEA couch at home I used to work at a proper desk with a Cintiq, but when I switched to Procreate on an iPad, I migrated to the couch and surrounded myself with a nest of clothes and blankets and books and... here I am, bein' cozy. With terrible posture But when I was between jobs last year, I did rent a little coworking space down the street so I could get out of my pajamas and go get comic stuff done there. It was a godsend. I like drawing at my favorite coffee shop every so often too, but I tend to hide my work while I draw, and there, everyone can look over my shoulder The coworking space had a tall artist desk that was rarely used, so I often grabbed that one. Not cheap, but to stave off cabin fever, heck yes, worth it.

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ahhh I've been really thinking about getting a studio space one of these days I really shouldn't rn, with my finances as they are, but I could REALLY make use of one recently

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I loved the space I used last year. They recently had to close for... current-event reasons... and are going to reopen with all sorts of plexiglass barriers between the desks I feel so bad for them. Good studio spaces are wonderful, I would support them again if I ever was out of a job!

🌈ERROR404 🌈

it's good they've found ways to make it safer, though!

carcarchu

My old workspace was in the basement of my home in canada and it was always perpetually freezing even in the summer and i was frequently visited by spiders so my current workspace is a huge improvement in that regard. I do miss my old ergonomic desk chair though. I'm definitely not the kind of person who can draw in bed or on the couch. I need to be in workmode and having a designated space just for that is necessary for me to get in the right headspace for that.

DaeofthePast

my workspace rn is just my desk with my laptop and my drawing tablet. my laptop is stacked on top of a pile of books so i can see the screen (otherwise my tablet blocks my line of sight). it's kinda simple

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Depends. I have a Cintiq Mobile Studio, so I can draw pretty much every where and sometimes in the oddest position, but most of the time I am on my desk with the cintiq hooked up to a second monitor so I don't have to look down so much.(edited)

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

For Wayfinders: Thumbnails are somewhere cozy and the only physical work. Me and Q sit and plan them out together. The rest of wayfinders are made on Photoshop, and flat colors in clip paint studio. In the world I would love a nice studio place in an office with others. During corentine I have been working from home, and I am not that good at it, being quite the extrovert. Before corentine I was in a artist residency where I worked on Wayfinders which had a workstation and all the programs we could need. It is so nice and me and Q are going to return there when it opens up again!

Miranda

I have an iPad so usually on the couch, cozied up with coffee and pillows and blankets. But sometimes at the table. But usually on the couch like the gremlin I am

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I have a large drafting table, a mini drafting table, and a lapdesk in my papasan when we ink/draw! Toning and letters are all done on the desktop in its own space

Miranda

I need to get a good lap desk. But that sounds like a grand setup!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

My first time hearing about a lapdesk

Omg I need one

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

They are the best things ever Mine has just the pencil holder !(some come with cup holders and its a waste of space imo)

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Wow I like your setup of the drafting tables

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I wanna show pics of them....if im allowed in this chat?

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

I hope so, I'm not sure which channel we can post studio photos at? I did see some did before?

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Ill post in shop talk since creator babble gets archived

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

my current space is uh.... a bit better than my last one. I used to work on an old writers desk for a decade and I did most of my comic work sitting there cramped up with my desktop taking most of the space. Now I have an L shaped desk where I have my desktop on the shorter end. The longer end it's my pen, pencils, and watercolor stuff. my display tablet occupy the space at times so switching from digital and traditional without worrying about setup hassle is a lot better than what I dealt with before lol.

I'm glad the days I had to curl up and draw with no privacy are long gone now

kayotics

I’ve got a little drafting table where I draw all my comic pages. I’m messy with my pens so they’re kind of strewn about until I start to lose them. Then I put them back. I’m not particularly neat. I spend most of the comic process off the computer, so most of my digital work is just on an iPad where I can sit anywhere. I try to keep good lighting around my drafting table and there’s always loose eraser shavings all over.

Natasha Berlin (Pot of Gold)

I got myself a lil corner desk by the dining table. Not as well-lit as I'd like, but it's decently ergonomic and I started putting posters on my wall Plus I can leave work mindset easily by turning off my computer and forgetting about the dark corner in the dining room XD(edited)

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

My desk is really sloppy and covered in all kinds of junk. I have a harmonica, a ball of yarn, a bunch of ink bottles, etc on my desk. I have my sketchbook under my tablet and usually a notebook somewhere for writing. My tablet sits to the right of my laptop (on top of sketchbook) while I'm not using it and when I'm using it it goes over my computer keyboard. I sometimes have a glass of water or some food sitting to the lefthand side

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

The only thing I wanna share about my workspace is this

once i spent over three hours looking for that damned pen

never again

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ajkdhfkjs the models for hte magazine im crying

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh my God

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

mad giggling

Deo101 [Millennium]

youre gonna manage to lose the string

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

omg

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i know in my heart deo is right but still i hope

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

You should weld a metal chain to it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Watch me lose the whole tablet

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh nooo

I believe in you!

TaliePlume

My workspace is a black table with a white, yellow, blue and green tablecloth with 3 black chairs. It's next to the kitchen. On it, is my laptop and the left side is my clipboard, 3 blue folders full of writing. Then above it, is 3 sketchbooks and another blue folder from a class that I took in community college.

June 16, 2020

sagaholmgaard

I have one long desk at almost three meters. On the left side is all my coffee and tea supplies, in the middle is my work space and on the right is my dining table xD I get everything done from there, despite having a mobilestudio so I COULD sit anywhere and work, lol. It's a blessing during holiday seasons to be able to bring it everywhere, but at some I like my designated working space. Although I am moving in a few weeks, so who knows what my new workspace will be

Moral_Gutpunch

My workspace is anywhere I can draw or write. It's more of a "Will I be interrupted over something petty or stupid" issue than space. Not that I don't want more space.

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

My workspace is a big, broken corner desk I managed to lug out of an old apartment when it was gonna be trashed. Before then, I'd just draw in bed. I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure the folding chair I sit at is a similar affair. It's got a Dollar General throw pillow on it so I can at least say I'm trying to save my back. The top of the desk is a mess of mostly old bottles and cans, pencils, incense ash, and my old tarot deck. I love this setup dearly. This is the first time I've ever had my own desk space, much less a space I can decorate or leave as messy as I want. Got my own art up on the walls with sticky tack and all! Also the cat's scratching post is directly behind me, because we've learned the cat won't use it unless it's as in the way as possible. What can ya do, lol.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh cats...

Desnik

I got spoiled with an adjustable desk. It is six feet long, and has a whiteboard top for noodling with dry erase markers

my main computer is set up on an adjustable stand so it floats over the desk, and then I have my cintiq, which we tried to mount on a similar stand but then it was just too heavy

I keep my dice collection nearby because fidgeting helps think things through sometimes

and rolling to make odd decisions never hurts

lately during the quarantine I've been sharing the office with my spouse so we've had to establish rules over when it's okay to bug each other(edited)

oh yeah and we also have a whiteboard installed in the office, and it rules!(edited)

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Mine is pretty simple: I have a laptop that's long stopped being portable and is now mostly just sitting at my desk at all times and a 19 inch Ugee as my display. I usually keep a lot of stuff on top of my desk, but it's mostly just a mess because I have been using it for work too for a while now

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I suppose I'll talk about my setup too :) My main setup is where I do digital art. I share an office with my SO, so we both have workspaces on opposite walls from each other. I work on a corner desk that holds my beefy computer, two monitors, and a Huion Kamvas GT-191. That's where I draw my comic and pretty much everything else done digitally. Ngl, it's a mess right now. I have comic notes and location floor plans in sketchbooks and DnD character sheets spread out all over the surface, and random pens and sticky notes. In the corner of the room, we have a nice large-format printer where I produce prints for conventions. I actually sketch my pages on an iPad pro in Procreate, so during the sketch phase, sometimes I'll just bundle up on my couch and do it, or before quarantine, sometimes I'd sketch on the go. My other workspace (which hasn't gotten much love as of late tbh) is a drafting table in the corner of our living room. I keep a tabletop easel on it and my Copic markers, as well as whatever I'm working on at the moment. (RN it's some ink washes.) The drawers hold all my ink, pencils, erasers, etc. Next to the drafting table is where I keep all my large charcoal, graphite, and oil pastel drawings (mostly school projects), and my large paintings. Other than that, I have a nifty little cart where I keep painting supplies :) I will say, this setup is by far an enormous improvement from my previous setups.

[emmaekart]

Commissions Info

The money I get from commissions is going towards: A drawing tablet so I can make digital art.

DO NOT TRACE, REPOST OR COPY ANY ART IN THIS ARTICLE.

Status & Slots

Status: OPEN

One commission equals one slot- so if one person orders three pieces, that person fills up three slots. If all slots are taken you can ask to be put on a waitlist.  

Slot 1: OPEN

Slot 2: OPEN

Slot 3: OPEN

Ordering & Pricing

How to order:

Send me an email , filling out the form below. It MUST be by email; I do not check my account every day and I want all of my commissions in one place. If you have any questions as well, email me. I will let you know if you are accepted or not.

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GENERAL INFO:

Your name:

Type/category of commission:

How many characters:

Any specific wishes/details you want included:

Background:  

CHARACTER(S) INFO:

Character name:

Character personality/description(s): Please give me everything you have on your character that you want me to have in mind when drawing them - also characters from series since I might not know them. By sending this order I confirm that I have read and accept the terms of service for commissioning Emmaekart.

Reference photos:

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You can place multiple orders in one mail, just include the above info multiple times.  Please include reference images of your character(s). If there is anything specific you would like me to get inspired from (e.g. environment for background or stock images for poses) please include them as well. Send your order to emmaekart@gmail.com.

Payment method:Paypal only

About Commissions

Before you order, please make sure to have read my Terms of Service. These terms apply to private commissions only. This information is NOT applicable for commercial work, therefore the art can only be used for the client’s personal purposes.

All prices below are base prices. Things that might increase the price are complex character designs, number of characters, complex backgrounds and amount of detail in the image in general.

What I Will Draw:

Furries

OCs

Anime

Video Game Characters

Cartoon Characters

Photos of people transformed into anime characters

Somewhat NSFW, no pornography

What I Won't Draw:

NSFW

Hate Art

Probably anything else, but I'm just now opening up my commissions, so feel free to ask; it may help me!

Examples & Prices

!! The prices listed may change depending on how much time and extra effort is put into the commission. !!

Sketches:

Bust: $5 / Half Body: $7.50 / Full Body: $10

Add a Background: +$2 / +$3 / +$4

Add a Character: +55% of base price (excludes background prices.)

Lineart:

Bust: $7.50 / Half Body: $10 / Full Body: $12.50

Add a Background: +$4 / +$5 / $7

Add a Character: +65% of base price (excludes background prices.)

Color (Colored Pencil):

Bust: $12.50 / Half Body: $15 / Full Body: $20

Add a Background: +$5 / +$6 / +$7

Add a Character: +75% of base price (excludes background prices.)

<<More examples and more options will be added later, but this is all I have for now.>>

<<For now, rates are all the same for all the types of art I will do, whether it be anime, furries, etc.>>

To be added in the future: Big bust, Big Half Body, Chibi, Icons, acrylic painting options, watercolor painting options, marker options

Terms of Service

If you have a problem with any of these terms, they may be changed if discussed with me prior to paying for your commissioned piece.

GENERAL TERMS

All drawings may or will include a subtle sign that you may not remove.  

I might record the drawing process and post it on social medias.

The finished product may be posted on social medias.  

Prices are subject to change based on demand.  

I have the right to reject any order that I do not feel comfortable drawing for any reason.

​

​

PAYMENT

Currency accepted is either USD and can be paid through PayPal.

Commissions can be paid either 100% upfront or split 50% upfront and 50% after sketch approval.

Don't send me any payment before I have agreed to give you a slot and requested you to send me the payment.  

​

PROCESS AND DELIVERY

I will notify you when I have started on your commission and you, therefore, lose the rights to a refund (see point 7 further below for more info on refunds.)  

While I'm working on your commission I will make reviews with you to make sure I make it just right for you!  

The amount of reviews depends on the complexity of the work.  

During the reviews, you will see work-in-progress and be able to tell me what I can revise.

The time it takes to finish your commission varies depending on factors such as health, the complexity of the commissioned piece, and how much time I am  spending with family or friends, but your commission should not take very long at all.  

If anything comes up that will slow the progress of the initially estimated delivery time I will let you know asap.  

Once the piece is finished you will receive a high quality photo of the art (I have to use my moms phone, my phone's camera is awful, that's why the photos in this are bad quality.) Note that there is no physical product. Depending on where you live, we can arrange to ship your artwork. Just ask :)

​4. REVISIONS  

If you wish for me to change something in the drawing you have previously approved, I will charge you a fee to change it. The amount of the extra charge depends on the change you want me to make and is usually based on an hourly wage.  

If your reference is unclear to start with changes will come at an extra charge.

​

COPYRIGHT / USAGE POLICY

I, Emma Knierim (the artist), claim the rights to the produced drawing, not the buyer. Therefore I am allowed to use the copyrighted artwork to: post, advertise.

The buyer is allowed to: post and use with mention.

The following is considered copyright infringement: posting without a mention, tracing, copying, claiming the artwork as your own, reselling my art.

I reserve the full rights to the image and it's use/distribution unless otherwise agreed upon (rights to the image for your own non-personal use may be purchased at any time).

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CUSTOMER SATISFACTION

I will do everything I can to make my customers happy!  

If you have a problem with anything in regards to the commissioned piece please tell me right away so we can find a solution together.  

I am willing to change some of my terms for you if you ask before I start on your commission. If you do not want me to post your art anywhere, we can discuss this.

​

REFUND / CANCELLATION POLICY

The buyer is not allowed a refund once I started working on the commission.  

If for any reason I am unable to start your commission you will receive a full refund.  

If you cancel your order before I started it, you can get a full refund.  

If you are getting a refund, do not request a Paypal chargeback. I will transfer the money back to you myself.  

If you request a Paypal chargeback at any point when you were not allowed to ask for a refund you will lose all before mentioned rights to the commissioned piece and I will have the full right to profit further from it in any way. I will decline the chargeback and supply Paypal with our conversations in which we talk about the commission as evidence that I have completed work for you. Furthermore, you will be blacklisted for commissioning me again.

​

If the buyer breaks any of the points stated above they will lose all the beforementioned rights to the artwork commissioned by me, Emma Knierim (the artist), and I will have the right to profit further from the commissioned artwork in any way I see fit. If you have a problem with any of these statements, they may be changed if discussed with me prior to paying your commissioned piece.

​

​What do you get?

Drafts that you must decide which one I should continue with (depending on the complexity of the commission there might be fewer or more drafts.)  

Sketch and/or final sketches that you must accept before I continue the work.    

Full size high quality photo of the finished work.

By purchasing a commission from me (the artist) you agree to be purchasing my services only. If you have a problem with any of the below conditions, they may be changed if discussed with me prior to paying for your commissioned piece.

Please read the terms carefully:

I, Emma Knierim (the artist):

I reserve the right to cancel and refund the order at any time for any reason.

I retain all copyrights over the commissioned artwork.

I will NOT profit further from the commissioned artwork unless you (the customer) break any of the terms.

I reserve the right to post the commissioned artwork online and use them in my portfolio.

You (the customer/commissioner):

You may upload the commissioned artwork on any website and social channels WITH MENTION.

You may NOT make profits from the commissioned piece (reselling, redistributing, uploading to POD-services, make prints, etc.)

You may NOT alter the commissioned artwork without my (the artist's) consent.

You may NOT use the commissioned artwork for commercial purposes.

You may NOT use the commissioned artwork for commercial purposes. The license to the commissioned artwork may be purchased at any point - contact me for info.

DO NOT TRACE, REPOST OR COPY ANY ART IN THIS ARTICLE.

Thank You.

Thank you for reading, I hope to see you in my email inbox!!

[mysticsparklewings]

Fairy Enchanting‪

A bit later than I expected, but here we have the art that I used for the examples on my Commission Sheet! (Unoriginal title is unoriginal and also a pun based on "very enchanting") When I started thinking about putting together a commission sheet in the first place (which was something I wanted to do for the new year, as before I was just using a lengthy pricelist), I knew that I wanted to make a piece of art specifically for it and track my progress as I went, so that I would have an example for each stage in the process I take commissions for. And for the art, I more or less wanted to "go all out" since it's supposed to be an example, and I figure the example needs to be as close to top-notch as possible. Admittedly, I probably could've done even more than this, but me being me I procrastinated and ended up having less time to work on this that I initially expected, so... In deciding what the drawing would be, I also decided to return to my roots a little, and a do fairy as an homage to back when I used to do Winx art all the time. Likewise, as Enchantix to this day is my favorite transformation from the show, I drew heavy inspiration from it, and I'm sure that's so obvious that if you know the show I probably didn't have to point it out to you. Anyway. I actually didn't start completely from scratch with the sketch; I re-used this pose from a previous sketch I did that never saw a full-finished piece. I liked that other sketch okay, but it didn't feel like a "finish me" project. I did have to alter the feet because the original sketch was made with feet for ballet slippers (bigger heels, more rounded/curved toes, etc.) and much later on in the process I ended up angling the leg on the left more outward, as that felt more natural for the direction I was taking this new sketch in. In sketching all the bits that make this sketch otherwise unique from the old one, as I mentioned, I was taking heavy inspiration from Enchantix. One of my favorite parts of the transformation has always been the leg-wrap/barefoot sandals, for reasons I can't explain. So those were a must. I also really like how the Enchantix outfits tend to be short dresses that are more form-fitting at the top and more flowy and soft at the bottom. Here, I decided to bring the ribbony look on the leg wraps up into the bodice, and to frame the collar/shoulder area I used a sleeve & choker style similar to what I did for the dress for Ink Dance, which itself was based on a dress I actually own and love to pieces despite never getting a chance to wear it because of how fancy it is. The main difference for both of the drawing versions is that I skipped the lace overlay that connects the sleeves and choker, mostly because both pieces are traditional and drawing lace/mesh traditionally, especially when it's so teeny, is a nightmare I do not want to engage with. And the choker part fits nicely, as in Enchantix each fairy has a necklace (usually a choker) that holds their fairy dust bottle. I'm not sure if this fairy has one or not, but she very well could! Enchantix usually has long gloves, but I altered these to be shorter and fingerless (more like Magic Winx or Believix gloves) since this fairy is also based partially on myself, and I'd be more likely to wear that kind than the full-length formal gloves. And for the hair, as is maybe obvious, I was primarily inspired by Stella's for her Enchantix, since I've always loved that part of the transformation sequence for her's. Also, even though it doesn't look that way on my commission sheet, IRL I drew only one wing and left it separate, off to the side, to make positioning and flipping it easier. Once the sketch was done, I did try inking it traditionally/by hand once, and I just really wasn't happy with how it turned out. And I also realized I had drawn the skirt billowing/ruffling in completely the wrong direction anyway; It was moving to the left when it should've been moving to the right like the hair. So I had to take time out to fix that. As opposed to wasting more paper trying to ink traditionally after that fiasco, I instead went with what had been my gut instinct anyway; I scanned the sketch in and did the lines in Photoshop. Well, most of the lines. I was a dumb-dumb and when I did the lines for the wings, 1. it took forever because they're large curves everywhere and 2. I used a slightly bigger brush than for all the other lines, as I had mistakenly thought I was going to be re-sizing them significantly and the lines would be altered to for me when I did that. When I realized that wasn't the case, I did not want to have to redraw most of those curves again and risk not being able to get the right a second time. So I ended up booting a copy of the wings I'd already done into Paint Tool Sai and made use of the linework layers to redo the wings without having to draw the same line fifty times. Then I booted that back into Photoshop and adjusted the wings to be angled/aligned with the rest of the lines as I saw necessary. It was also at this point that I played around with positioning the leg on the left more outward than what it was on the sketch and ended up going with the position you see here. I could have then gone back and added weight to the lines in some places, but at this stage, I was already thinking that I wanted to print the lines out and use my digital lines to hopefully get cleaner traditional ones, as opposed to just printing the lines off outright. (Mostly because I wanted to use some super thick mixed media paper that I would bet serious money will not go through my printer.) That's what I ended up doing, and I have to say that attempt went a lot more smoothly than me trying to ink from the original sketch. And once I had the initial lines done, then I went back and thickened them in certain places. And I should probably mention here that the wings were a little tricky to figure out how to handle traditionally, as that's not something I've had to do very often. I ended up using my clear stardust gelly roll when I did the normal inking, and then, later on, I used colored pencils to go back over the outlines before coloring them in. After doing some tests, I started coloring with markers for the hair and skin, and a little colored pencil for some blush. I tried to get a little more bold with the shading than I usually do, which I'm sure still looks pretty tame compared to most. But I'd rather the shading be too light than too dark. Originally, I thought I was going to do all or mostly all of the coloring with alcohol markers. (Sidenote: is it just me or does it seem like there’s a lot of alcohol marker related stuff going on in the art world lately??) But then I did some testing with the lines I originally inked and didn’t like, and was reminded why I normally don’t use alcohol markers for gradients like the one on the skirt...frankly, I’m not very good at them...yet. Even though the test went better than expected, I still wasn’t happy with it. Then I tried a few more tests with watercolor, and that didn’t fare much better. Watercolor would’ve worked if the gradient wasn’t also supposed to be shaded, I think, but trying to shade it without using another supply wasn’t working. That left me with good ol' tried and true colored pencils. But colored pencils are relatively slow and textured, and I didn't really want that for the skin. The texture would've worked for the hair, but I didn't want to make the time investment for it either. And so I ended up sticking to my mixed media instincts and I used the colored pencil exclusively where I had to (on the dress so I could get the gradient for the skirt right) and then I used alcohol markers everywhere else, shading and all. With the alcohol marker doing most of the work, then I came back and added additional shading/highlights with the colored pencils as needed to everything except the skin. I added blush, but otherwise, I was quite pleased with how the skin turned out and didn't want to touch it for the risk of ruining it. The dress is supposed to be black/really dark gray, but I did brighten it up a bit with some of the blues from the skirt gradient as opposed to pulling out specific grays, so it definitely looks/feels more navy in the final product. Although my relatively dark/saturated color choices for her outfit made figuring out what to then do with the wings more challenging. I didn't want the wings to be the exact same colors as the rest of the drawing, because then they'd blend in too easily and be too distracting from the rest of the piece. But at the same time, I wanted them to match/look like they belong. (Again, similar to how the wings are in Enchantix) After some back-and-forth testing and a LOT of color sampling, I decided to color the wings in with alcohol markers in colors that were similar to her clothes but overall lighter/more pastel and outline them and the sections inside the wings again in colored pencil. Most of the colored pencil is slightly darker than the marker colors I picked, but I went with purple for the black/gray rims of the wings because I thought a dark gray or black would be too harsh. I'd already decided I wanted to do a slightly more complex background digitally, but even with that in mind, the traditional drawing still felt like it was missing one more thing after that. Namely, the wings didn't seem special enough. I realize that sounds a little weird; I was just talking about how I didn't want the wings to be too distracting, but I think there is a delicate balance to having them be special in the way fairy wings should be while still not overpowering everything else. And I'm not sure I achieved that, but I at least tried to. Though not a perfect solution, I ended up adding some metallic watercolor on top of the "true" (less purple-y) blue and pink sections on the wings.  You can't really tell here on the scan, and what little you can appears to be the wrong color, but in person, both colors now how a lovely pink or blue sheen to them when you move the picture in the light. (The metallic paints, in this case, are very opalescent, so they're almost completely transparent when you see the flat color despite still have a really pretty metallic sheen in the light.) After that, I felt there wasn't much more I could do traditionally, so I scanned it and moved on to that background. At this point, I was kinda pressed for time because me being me, I had unintentionally put making my commission sheet off to the last minute. I really wanted to have it finished before the ball dropped on New Years' Eve ("new year, new me" and all that jazz), and I still hadn't finished my example art by sunset time the day of. So I had to keep things moving. Early on, I'd had the idea to either digitally make a slightly more complex (but not too complex; I wanted to keep at least a little of the sanity I have left) background or perhaps make a special watercolor piece to use as the background. Unfortunately, I just didn't have the time for that anymore if I wanted to have the commission sheet finished by my self-imposed deadline. (And if we're splitting hairs, in theory, I could still go back and change the background if I wanted to, for reasons I'm about to go over, so of all the things to get rush-cut that's really not so bad.) What I ended up doing instead was taking some of the left side of my Starfall Mountains painting (I was looking for a background-type thing I'd already done/made that would suit this drawing or that I could quickly tailor to make it work, and I'm just as surprised as anyone else that this frustrating tiny painting ended up being the one I liked best of my options) and I blew it up to comfortable cover the background here, flipped it around so the colors would flow a bit better, and used the hue/saturation slider to make it more of teal color for a little more contrast. But of course, there was still just one more thing missing, even after all that. After a little tinkering, I decided I didn't like trying to making the wings transparent (I could do it, I just didn't like the way it looked in this case), so I went in and added a touch of sparkles digitally to both tie them more into the piece as a whole and to give them a little more pizzazz. And finally, blessedly after all of that, the artwork was finished, I was very happy with it, and I could move on to making the actual commission sheet.   I have to say, for as rushed as it was towards the end, I do really like how it turned out. More particularly I like just how blended both digital and traditional art ended up being here. To me, this is the next step beyond what I was able to do for mixing digital and traditional art with my Doodle Moon piece, and if I weren't currently in the middle of a tablet crisis, I'd really want to do more with this concept of going back and forth between the two on one artwork. However because of the tablet situation, the thought of really trying to do that right now kinda fills me with dread, so we're gonna have to wait a little while on that. I do also really like the anatomy/proportions in this. Which is not something I normally feel comfortable saying.   It's not the best art I've ever made or anything, but looking at it makes me happy. It's good to see it finished and it's good to think of where a lot of the ideas for it came from. (Re: Nostalgia for my life a few years ago) I'm not sure if I will since it kinda counts but also kinda doesn't(?), but I'm tempted to put this and some of my old Enchantix drawings up on the "Draw This Again" template, just to show how far I've come. I'm still thinking about it, we'll see. Speaking of "we'll see," I got word that the sketchbooks from the contest I made Designiest Design for back in October are finally in, which means the prize packs should be sent out anytime now! I'm excited to see how the sketchbooks turned out and get my hands on the Powder Pack and see how said powders work! I was admittedly starting to wonder how that was coming along, so that was some good news and a nice surprise I'd really been needing here lately. Rest assured, there will almost definitely be an art piece talking about that stuff once I have it in my hands! 

____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[tasharii]

Your Colors: Ch.9.

A/N: Sooo life caught up with me basically. I've got a new full time job in a new state that's taking some getting used to. But I'm not giving up! I love this story and I'm invested and it's killed me to not have time to write. This is my happy place. In order to accommodate and hopefully get a new chapter out every week, or every other week if things don't work out, my chapters are going to get a little shorter. I'm going to try and restrain myself, but still be proud of them.I hope you guys can work with me and stick around. I've got another Bucky story coming up involving ghosts and circuses...... BUT I'm forcing myself to at least finish a rough draft before I start posting it. This is the only story I'm going to allow myself to write on a week by week basis.Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on the last chapter and for giving me so much support. It really means a lot to me and I love hearing everything that you have to say. Enjoy! <3

Summary:  Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 10K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, unrequited love angst

Masterlist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10   Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13

****

Sharp pounding on her door drew her out of a very deep sleep. It dug into her temples and instantly pissed her off. Groggy, Y/N reached out a heavy arm and patted around on her nightstand until she found her phone. The light made her eyes squint, and she brushed her tangled hair back off her face. 10AM. It was 10AM on a Friday morning. Her day off. One of the few days she didn’t have anywhere to be until the afternoon. Just fantastic.

Annoyed, she tossed her phone beside her on the bed and groaned, scrubbing at her face. As if that would make the dust bunnies in her head clear up. Then the banging started up again. Growling, Y/N sat all the way up and kicked at the knotted blankets around her feet. They fell off the bed in a clump, and chills sliced down her spine from the brisk morning air. Pale blue sunlight filtered in from her drawn curtains.

Somehow, she managed to clamber out of bed and shouted, voice rough from sleep, “I’M COMING!” The knocking stopped for a minute, and she yanked at her tank top, straightening it. The air nipped at her toes, and she stumbled over to her bathroom door. Fluffy robe in hand, she loosely tied it on. Covering her bare legs, and underwear. Not a care in the world about how she might look. Just brushed a hand through her hair to get it out of her face and headed to the door.

Flinging it open, Y/N automatically glared at the three men across the threshold in the dimly lit hall, “Can I help you?” She asked, yawning halfway through. Words muffled by the hand over her mouth, she slumped against the door to keep herself standing.

The first guy gave her a very unimpressed once over, and scratched at his balding head, “We’re here to fix a leak.” He drawled. When she continued to stare at him, dumbfounded, he slowly elaborated, “Your landlord said you’ve been complaining about a leak in your kitchen.” Even from where she was, she could smell his abundant amounts of aftershave. See the sweat stains along his shirt. Could even count the little scabs littering his neck from nicking himself shaving. Yet he was looking at her like she was an idiot.

Blearily, Y/N blinked and glanced over at her kitchen in question before it finally dawned on her, “Oh! Ya, there’s this huge stain. Luckily, it just drips into my sink. Not the floor.” She nodded, happy the landlord finally listened after months of complaining, but then frowned, “He didn’t tell me he scheduled anything.” Eyebrows together, she stood up straighter and fidgeted with her pale blue robe, adjusting the belt. The man’s dark eyes were roaming across her just a hair more than she appreciated.

Shrugging, the balding guy, his nametag called him Rick, tilted his head, “Do you want us to fix it or not?” He asked. Behind him, the other two were playing around on their phones. Already checked out for the moment. Lazily, Rick glanced down at his notepad, and tapped at it with a pen.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder and bit her lip, “How long’s it gonna take?” The open doorway let a cool draft that fluttered the edges of her robe around her legs. Goosebumps covered her thighs, and she really wanted to be doing anything else but this.

Yet again, his shoulders bobbed up and then down, “Depends on the damage. Hopefully we’ll get it done today. If not, we’ll come back tomorrow. Got someplace you can go to kill some hours? We’ll be out no later than 7 tonight.” A hint of impatience made his words sharper at the ends. He scribbled something down with his pen, scratching it on the top corner like he was trying to get ink to come out.

Ya, Y/N had somewhere she could go. Just hadn’t planned on actually going today. It took her just a minute to think about it. To hesitate. There was no guarantee that her landlord would follow through with rescheduling. He was flighty like that. And if the leak got worse, she could see him trying to pin it on her. Make her pay for it. Say that it was her fault.

Reluctantly, she stepped back, and waved them in, “Ya, just let me get around. I’ll be out of your way in a bit.” When the door shut behind them, she tried to hide a grimace. Their shoes were muddy, and no one offered to take off their boots. Well, the carpet was already stained to hell. Not like it would be very noticeable. But it was rude.

After showing them the leak, Y/N disappeared into her bathroom for a shower. Took her time, and even blow-dried her hair instead of letting it dry on its own. Dressed and ready for the day, she could hear them banging around in her kitchen. Loudly. She peaked out and saw that they had started digging in the ceiling. Her kitchen had a dropped ceiling with panels. They had at least three panels scattered along her floor. Along with debris and questionable dust.

One of the other guys, David, spotted her over by her bed, and called, “It’s going to take us at least today to fix the pipe. Nothing too bad, but we want to be safe.” He offered her a thin-lipped smile. At least he was trying to be polite. Toolbox in hand, and handing supplies to the other two up on stepstools. Distantly, she wondered why it took three big guys to fix one leak. Rick cursed and yanked a wrench from David’s hand, growling out something she couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it didn’t make David happy. He rolled his eyes and dropped the toolbox down on her counter, hard. Before she could get too stressed out, she turned away and tried to not think about the mess they were making.

Honestly, Y/N didn’t know a thing about plumbing, or maintenance and she didn’t care. Even if she should. So, she walked away and picked her phone off her nightstand and shot her landlord an email to thank him for finally sending guys over to fix the issue. And to also, subtly, verify that he did indeed send them. That they didn’t just pick an unfortunate mark for a robbery. Even if they had, she didn’t have much they could steal. Just some ridiculously expensive, used, art supplies that probably didn’t have a good resell value.

Legs crossed up on her bed, she felt a shot of pain twinge through her ribs. A quiet, tired sigh left her as she racked a hand through her hair and stared up at her ceiling for a second. Despite feeling better after her shower, Y/N’s stomach twisted as she glanced back down at her phone. Specifically, at her text messages. Bucky had messaged her around 9, before she woke up.

Bucky: Still want me to come over at 1?

No. No she didn’t. At least she had a legitimate excuse as to why he couldn’t come over. Before, she planned to just fake a stomach bug or something equally juvenile. Her thumbs hovered over her keypad, debating on what she should send back. If anything.

Things weren’t ok. Hadn’t been in nearly a week. Since last Sunday, she’d only seen him in class Monday and Thursday.

Monday had been the worst.

 Monday, December 3rd

If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were presenting their final watercolor projects, Y/N would have skipped class. She felt sick enough. Dehydrated from crying. Exhausted from a restless night of tossing and turning. Between intermittent bursts of pathetic sobbing. It was obvious that she was nothing more than a reanimated corpse. Shadowed rings under her eyes, ashen skin, and she could barely manage to stand upright. All wrapped up in an oversized cozy hoodie, and unwashed hair scooped up in a tangled knot.

“Y/N?” Ramsey’s voice tickled her ears, and she blinked, looking over at him curiously. Standing only a few students away from her, annoyance radiated from the firm grinding of his jaw. Right along with the way his mouth disappeared in a fine line within the bushy hair of his beard. He raised his equally thick eyebrows at her, pointedly gesturing to the front of the room, “I was asking if you had any thoughts on Mr. Barnes’ work.”

Embarrassed, fiery scarlet crawled across her skin, and she reluctantly looked over at Bucky. Fully acknowledging him for the first time that day. The entire class was gathered, as usual, for a critic. She hovered near the back of the crowd, arms buried in her deep front pocket, barely registering the class at all. Everything was just white noise. Like flickering static on a TV set. And Y/N just floated above it all. A specter to her own life.

Bucky was staring at her, eyes shining with hesitant curiosity. She’d not said anything about his project since he got up there. Hadn’t even reacted. Which was uncharacteristic of their relationship. Even meeting his eyes made her want to cry. Like his mere presence was crippling. It was pathetic. She averted her eyes to the painting instead, taking a step to the side so she could see past an older guy in front of her. Nails digging into her palms to distract her.

The painting was good. Emotionally moving even. It was of a group of men. Soldiers. Walking together towards the viewer. They’re all beat up, and obviously exhausted. The color pallet was limited to brown, green, white and red. The red was used sparingly, careful to not muddy it up with the green and brown. She could just make out Steve and Bucky in the painting. They were the focus, closest to the viewer, and leaning on each other. Bucky’s arm was around Steve’s shoulder, using him as a crutch. The painting was so impressionistic, that Y/N figured most people wouldn’t even recognize Bucky in the work.

Just a group of men, walking into the light with their shadows stretched out behind them. Like they’re heading towards something better. Hoping to leave the worst darkness behind them.

Bucky had vaguely mentioned it was inspired by different events he witnessed during his time at war. Men grateful to finally go home.

Suddenly aware that she’d been silent for too long again, Y/N awkwardly shrugged, “It’s beautiful. Like all of his work.” The words were stilted and cracked somewhere along the way into the air. Chin down, she shuffled her feet. Tried to ignore the eyes on her. Ignore the momentary flash of disappoint across Bucky’s face, before it was buried again. He stared away from her too, at a point on the floor a few feet in front of him. His eyes distant, and expression perfectly chiseled into nonchalance. Like he wasn’t bothered by anything at all. Lately, he hid behind a blank mask. Just shut it all down.

If only she could too.

Ramsey stared at her, surprised, and waited for her to add anything else. It was her most pathetic critic ever, and she was entirely aware. But her head and heart both hurt. And when she accidentally met Bucky’s eyes again, all she could think about was the ache chewing away inside of her.

If it didn’t stop soon, there wouldn’t be anything left inside at all.

 Pressing her lips together, Y/N hit call on her phone and held it up to her ear. Her hand was sweaty, and she hugged her free arm around her ribs. Like maybe she could hold back the overwhelming sense of dread if she just squeezed hard enough. There was a string of banging, and clattering to her right just past her dividing bookshelf. Along with deep, monotone strings of buzzing conversation. But she barely heard any of it.

Just let it ring to voicemail. Please don’t pick up. Eyes shut, she bit her bottom lip hard enough to almost drop blood.

It rang three times before Bucky answered, “Hey! I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep the day away.” He chuckled, the melody to unlock her heart. The smile in his voice made her lips turn up a little, making her teeth release their abusive hold. But hers was a bittersweet sort of smile.

“If only,” She huffed and covered her other ear to block out the noise filling her apartment, “I’ve got some bad news. My landlord schedule maintenance on the leak in my kitchen. Didn’t even tell me. These guys are gonna be here all day, so we can’t meet up.” Her toes curled under her thighs, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. With every word, she wondered if he could hear the tremor of anxiety in her voice. It was so embarrassingly obvious to her.

Of course, Y/N didn’t mention alternatives. Like the library, or even one of the studio classrooms at Orion. Because she didn’t have the heart to see him. Or the heart to disappoint him by bluntly admitting to being too weak to see him. Neither felt like an option.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but then he offered, “We can work at my place if you want.” He sounded hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. The offer made her suck in a surprised breath and sat up straighter.

To be fair, Y/N couldn’t believe it either. She’d never been to his apartment before. Had started to think she never would. Immediately, she had a war going on inside of her. She wanted to but didn’t want to. Was so damn curious about his place, but it hurt to even be around him at this point. Wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to do him the curtsy of keeping her emotions in check. She covered her face with her hand, and curled forward, like she might hide inside of herself. Elbows on her knees, she tried to calm her mind, blocking out the sudden blast of music from someone’s phone in her kitchen. Some obnoxiously loud rock band.

As of late, she felt like a ticking timebomb. One wrong word, or touch, and her façade would rip apart. Sometimes she wanted to scream at him. Other times beg for an explanation, or just cry like a baby. Then, every other minute, she was just numb, but that didn’t make for good company either. All those emotions were just barely held back by her fingers, and she was tired. So tired.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked softly, standing up and walking over to the window in her bedroom area. Restless. She parted the thick curtains and stared up at the heavy, grey sky, “They’ll be out of here by Sunday, you could just come over then.” If he’d just agree to a reschedule, maybe she could put herself back together by Sunday. Bury it all and be the friend he wanted her to be.

An early Christmas miracle. Afterall, it was December.

Sometimes Y/N wondered, if given the option to go back. All the way back to two months ago. To the moment she asked him to be her partner, what she’d do. Would she still ask him? Honestly, she wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it would just be easier to have never met James Buchanan Barnes.

“I really don’t mind.” Bucky replied, conviction getting stronger with every syllable, “You need all the practice you can get with acrylic.” He added, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N fiercely loathed acrylic. It was the next section of their class, now that they were done with watercolor. And it was Bucky’s favorite. Which made his help very valuable.

Biting her bottom lip, she let her forehead rest against the cold window. It was starting to snow. Thick, heavy white drops drifted down from the darkening sky. Pure crystals that blotted out the muddy streets of the city below. Y/N huffed, trying to keep the frustration out of her words, “They want me out of here till 7. I don’t want to get in the way.” She tried. It was the last excuse she could come up with. At least, without making it obvious that she was actively avoiding him.

Another beat of silence passed. Despite the harsh weather outside, throngs of people passed under her window. Finishing their work before the weekend. Rick cursed behind her and yelled at one of the guys to steady the ladder. The sound of Bucky’s voice focused her hazy mind, “I’d really like to see you today.” It was a timid, sweet admission, that made her lungs stumble. He added, “But if you don’t want to, I get it. Really.” Of course he did, because he could read her well enough to understand. Understand that she was practically a raw nerve left out in the winter wind.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed the lump in her throat, “I’ll be over in a bit.” She wanted to see him too. Because the really fucked up part about it all, was that the person who made her feel better also hurt her at the same time. A perfectly figurative double-edged sword.

“See you soon.” Bucky finished before hanging up. For a second, he sounded just as grim as she felt. With just those three words. She pressed her phone to her chest and tried to ignore the bubbling excitement at getting to see him. Because right along beside it, was a flowing tar river of dread and heartbreak. Things weren’t getting any easier like she had hoped they would over time.

Desperately, Y/N wished she could skip the heartbreak part. Skip ahead to the point where she figured out how to be Bucky’s friend. Just his friend. Figured out what was ok to do and say. To a point where she knew what crossed the boundaries he was trying to set. To a place where she wasn’t an emotional ball of knotted string.

  Bucky met her at the entry way of his apartment. Soft snow clung to her hair, and she dusted it off her backpack. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he stood up from the stairwell, coming over to meet her at the door. There was a moment where his arms came up, like he was about to hug her, but then he stopped. Let them fall, and gave her a small smile, “Just got to um, get my mail really quick.”

“Ok,” Y/N replied, ignoring the disappointment that he hadn’t hugged her. It shouldn’t be surprising. Since Sunday, he’d avoided most physical contact. Didn’t stand too close to her. Didn’t touch her arm to get her attention anymore. And, of course, hadn’t hugged her since Sunday either.

If it wasn’t for his obvious attempts to spend time with her, and talk, she’d think they’d only just met again.

He turned away from her, and she shuffled away from the door. Out of the way of a couple who were coming in from the weather. A gust of air chased them in and swirls of snow swept across the stained, tiled floor. The lobby was cold, and she rubbed at her gloved fingers. Bucky clicked the lock of his box, just to the left of the door, and she watched him quickly sort through the mail. Up ahead, the staircase started, and beyond that, under the stairwell, was the landlord’s office. As well as the laundry room. The building was old and drafty. Too much brick and not a lot of windows. If she looked up, she could see the twisting of the creaking staircase up all five floors.

The woman snickered as she started up the stairs, and then squealed when her boyfriend yanked at the tail of her scarf and chased after her. Y/N could hear them laughing and the echoing of their footsteps all the way up. Until a door slammed and cut off the carrying sounds of their joy.

Bucky glanced over at her, locking it back, and held up the mail, “Just junk and bills. Shouldn’t have expected much else.” She noticed how tense he seemed. Nervous and tired under the mask of content, casual banter. It showed in the deep circles under his eyes, and the jittery way he moved his hands and held himself too straight. Not too long ago, she’d concluded that Bucky didn’t sleep much. Somehow, it seemed he was sleeping even less.

“No one writes letters anymore.” Y/N mused, trying to mimic his casual pointless chatting. She could do this, “It’s a shame.” Hands tucked in her pockets, she shrugged, and took a step closer to the stairs. Part of her was excited to see the inside of his apartment, but she had no idea how she was going to survive 7 hours of this. Pretending everything was ok.

“Damn right it is.” Bucky snorted, waving for her to follow him to the staircase. Didn’t have an elevator, so she enjoyed a three story climb up the echoing, wooden and iron stairway.

By the time they reached the third floor, Y/N was winded. Bucky hadn’t even broken a sweat. He grinned cheekily at her over his shoulder, “When it gets warmer, you should come on jogs with me.” He pulled his keys from his pants pocket and shuffled through the ring with his free hand. Distractedly glancing between the keys and her as he stopped in front of a dark wooden door. His gloved hand tapped his mail against his thigh, impatient, or just nervous.

Unimpressed, she rolled her eyes, leaning against the pale green wall next to his door, “What? You gonna drive all the way to my apartment, and drag me to Central Park?” It would take him 30 minutes alone to just drive there.

Bucky’s smile didn’t fade as he unlocked his apartment door, “Maybe. Don’t tempt me.” He swung the door open and held it for her to come inside. When she stepped past him, she made sure to keep her arms close to herself. To keep from accidentally touching him.

His apartment wasn’t what she thought it would look like, but it suited him. It was about the same size as her studio apartment but broken up with walls. From the doorway, she stood in the small pathway between the living room and kitchen. The back of a couch to her right, and a counter to her left. The living room doubled as a studio. A couch, two black beanbags, and TV stand took up half the room closest to the door. To her left stood the small kitchenette, no bigger than her own, sectioned off with a counter. A hallway opened past the kitchen, disappearing around the bend. Likely leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Bucky was watching her observing everything. Hands propping him up against the back of the couch. Mail and glove discarded on the kitchen counter. In a soft blue sweater, and dark jeans with paint stains he was the epitome of a dreamy artist. Eyes bright against the color of the shirt, and dark strands framing his face. Dried green paint clung to his fingertips, even speckling the silver of his left hand.

After taking off her soggy boots next to his at the door, Y/N dropped her bag next to the armrest of the couch. Bypassing it to cross the far side of the room. Next to the only window in the room, stood a wide wooden desk. A tall silver lamp and bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf was overflowing, and scraps of paper littered every available space. Sketchbooks were stacked haphazardly against the wall on the floor, most too big to fit into a drawer. Drawings and notes covered every spare inch of the cream-colored wall around the window.

Quietly, she studied every drawing she could. Some she recognized. The bakery where he worked, half sketches of the street view from his apartment, Steve, animals, scenery from the park, a girl she suspected was his sister from the dimple on her chin, and even a few of herself. And more. So many more.

Distracted, she unzipped her coat, slipping it off and holding it against her chest. After a minute, Bucky cleared his throat and she jerked, he was right behind her, “These are just some I’m proud of, or ideas I haven’t finished.” He explained, standing to her right. The grey light from the window made his eyes shine molten silver, “I was thinking, maybe would watch a movie while we work?” He lifted his dark eyebrows, gaze darting over her features, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Already feeling her nerves getting the best of her, Y/N nodded and made her way back to her bag. Just wanting to keep her hands busy, she tugged out her art supplies, “Sure, what you got in mind?” First her 9x12 Bristol sketchbook, then travel set of paints, pencils, bag of brushes and eraser. She sat on the couch, flipping to the page she’d already been working on. A drawing of the Brooklyn bridge.

Bucky’s lips flickered like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite manage it, “I was thinking a Marvel marathon?” He grabbed his own sketchpad off his desk, and two cups for rinse water. He tucked a clean paintbrush behind his ear, his sketchpad under his arm, the cups stacked in his one hand, and a few other brushes in his other. Tubes of paint were already scattered on the coffee table, along with a pallet stained with green paint.

Pencil in hand, Y/N snorted, “Don’t know if we’ve got that kinda time, but sure. I haven’t seen Captain America in a while.”

  They worked without talking too much until close to 6. Only stopping to pop a frozen pizza in the oven and eat sometime around 2. Bucky on one of the bean bag chairs closer to the left side of the TV. She ended up on the floor, back against the couch, so she could spread out her paints. The hardwood floor underneath her made her butt numb, but she didn’t have to worry about being too messy. It’d clean up easier here than her carpet. Which had plenty of paint stains she’d have to pay for when she moved out.

It wasn’t as unbearable as Y/N expected it to be, but every so often she still felt a knife twist around inside her. With a constant weight on her body, pressing her down like a shadowy shroud, every action was strained. She was attempting to paint a robin on a branch. Had given up on her bridge an hour ago. Was about to give up on the bird too. The feathers were getting clumped together, and kind of starting to look like a mutant falcon of some sort. Her fine pencil lines lost in her clumsy use of a paintbrush.

“I really liked your watercolor piece.” Bucky stated, pretty much out of the blue. Y/N paused and peeked up at him for the first time in a few hours. She’d made it a point to stare at her horrible painting the entire time, and even when she needed help, she didn’t ask for it. Because she didn’t want him to be as close to her as he would need to be to help save her painting.

It took her a second to pull her mind away from her work and focus in on him and his words. Her paintbrush stilled, and she lifted it up, holding the top edges of her sketchbook. Slowly, she stretched out her legs, flexing her ankles to regain feeling in her feet. The sketchbook came to rest flat on her thighs, and she frowned. Oh ya, her painting from Monday, “Thank you.” That was all she had to say to him Monday, and that was all she could think to say to him now.

 Monday, December 3

Ramsey, spurred on by spiteful annoyance at her lack of response to Bucky’s painting, made her go next. Y/N didn’t want anyone to look at her, or her work. Didn’t want to have to try and explain why she did what she did. The heart behind her painting wasn’t there anymore.

“I um love Greek mythology,” Y/N started, words immediately failing her. Flying out of her mind like wisps of smoke, “So I chose to use Aphrodite, goddess of love, as my focus. White doves are symbolic to her.” She stopped, arms crossed and leaned back against the white board. Already finished.

Everyone stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but when her silence stretched on, they finally focused on her artwork. It felt like needles were pricking at her skin. Too hot all over, and mouth dry as the summer sun.

The painting had been one of her favorites. A beautiful woman with a flowing dress, arms back holding up the tail end of it like a cape. Serene while she glided forward across the canvas. Then two doves flew right in front of her, together like they’d come directly from her heart. The ends of the dress melted down into a stream of colors and brush strokes near the bottom. Shifting into a galaxy. The doves were mostly white and surrounded by darker colors to help contrast them out.

When she’d painted it, Y/N had been thinking about love. Not just Bucky. Love in general and how scared she was to fall in love. How fickle Greek gods were, just like emotions, and prone to mistakes in many of the stories. Love and gods were both tricky things. It was fueled with so many of her emotions, all poured out onto a page.

But now, she didn’t feel anything like before. Nothing but achy longing.

“I was just wondering if I could buy it from you. After the show.” Bucky’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she met his eyes, surprised. His sketchbook was propped against his knees, a pallet of paints on the floor to his right. Brush in the cup of water, he swirled it around and wiped it clean on a stray paper towel in a practiced motion. Not even looking down when he did it. Just studying her.

“Buy it?” Y/N asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why would you want to buy it?” Iron Man played in the background, the sound of him working on his first finished suit filled up the apartment. She set aside her bird, a lost cause, to dry. Despite the paintings being awful, she’d have to turn them in Monday. Maybe after it dried, she could clean it up some.

Bucky’s mouth curved into a teasing smile, setting aside his brush, “Cause it’s awesome? And I want to hang it up?” He asked slowly in return, like he was spelling it out to a child. Elbows propped on his knees, he pushed aside his own sketchbook. From where she sat, it looked like he was painting one of his original sketches of her. From her apartment. One of the poses where she sat in her recliner, reading.

Once again, he made her beautiful. Y/N could tell that much, even from where she sat.

Blinking, she shook her head, a bit reluctant to the idea of him paying her. Especially for that piece. Which had revolved around him so tightly. Tense, she sat up straighter and rinsed out her brush. The water was just a tint away from scarlet now, “Mn I guess so, but you don’t have to buy it. You can just have it.” Water dripped dark splotches from the brush onto her jeans before she wrapped it in a stained paper towel and dried it off. Dried paint coated under her nails, and fingertips. Coating them crimson.

Immediately, Bucky scowled at her, “No, I’m going to pay you for it. I personally know how many hours you spent on that. I’m not just going to take it from you.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, sweater rolled up to his elbows, and scratched at his jaw. There was a smudge of paint across his scruffy cheek.

Flustered, Y/N stood up with her pallet of colors and cup of dirty water. Stepping around the couch, her socked feet slid just a bit against the smooth floor, “I don’t really know what to price it at.” She stopped at his sink, picking up a few dirty breakfast dishes, and setting them out of the way. Then she started rinsing off her supplies. Water cold against her skin, but slowly warming as it ran. Soft scarlet, black, white, and green paint swirled against the silver sink, and away with the water. Fingers against the pallet she scrubbed the dried paint off, and then picked as much of the paint out from under her nails as she could.

She figured once she was cleaned up, it’d be close enough to 7 to justify her leaving. AKA bolting. Bucky followed after her with his own dirty pallet and water, “I was thinking about 100. Maybe more depending on what you’re offered at the art show.”

Sputtering, she sat aside her pallet to dry and finally meet his eyes. He was suddenly close, and she had to take a calming breath. Or else her heart might stop beating, “That’s a little much don’t you think?” He was standing at her left and tilted the faucet towards himself, so he could rinse his own materials. Arm brushing hers, she got to feel that his sweater was softer than it looked.

Bucky shook his head, and she stepped aside so he could better use the sink, “No, I bet if you price it at 100 someone will buy it.” She wiped her damp hands on a brown kitchen towel.

“Someone crazy.” Y/N grumbled, but then shrugged, “I’ll make sure Ramsey puts a ‘sold’ sticker on it for you. You don’t have to pay me till you get it, though.” There wasn’t any good reason to justify her not letting him have it. If she was being honest, she didn’t really want to keep it. It just reminded her of dark thoughts that she didn’t need to dwell on.

Bucky nodded, and glanced up. It looked like he was about to say something else, but then he frowned, “It’s really coming down out there.” His eyes were over her shoulder, focused on something across the room. Hands dripping water, he turned off the faucet and placed his supplies next to her own and dried his hands on his jeans.

Y/N turned, following his line of sight towards the window. Her heart dropped into a pit, and she quickly paced around the counter, bundling her cold fingers against the hem of her shirt. Crossing the living room, she peered out the window over his desk. It was a blanket of white outside. No cars passed through the road, and the ones parked along the side were nothing more than little white hills. Barley distinguishable. Part of her, the artistic part, wanted to draw it. Try to capture the shining white crystals contrasted with the stark grey of the buildings. Splashes of cover peeking out, about to disappear under a blanket of freshly falling snow. But that part of her was background noise to the roaring anxiety that made her grit of teeth.

“Shit.” She groaned, racking a hand through her hair. Hadn’t even noticed that it was snowing so hard because she was too busy not looking anywhere but at her artwork. It was quiet too. That sort of peaceful silence that came from the snow dulling out noises.

Back over at the couch, she picked her phone off the cushion and sat down to investigate. Darcy had messaged her, sending a selfie of her snuggled up with a cup of something steaming, and the caption ‘Snow days rock!’. A little later after that, Peter had let her know that he was super bummed because Mr. Stark made him leave work early.

Her weather app had issued a ‘winter weather warning’. High freezing winds, lots of snow, and lots of ice. Y/N carefully shut her sketchbook, the paint barely dry but she didn’t have the time too care. Then began gathering up her stuff, “I better get going. Before the roads get any worse.” Before she got stuck there. Hastily, she unzipped her bag and stuffed everything back inside. Then hurried to the kitchen, snatching her damp pallet off the counter.

Bucky stood by the window, watching it come down, and turned back to look at her, perplexed, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” His arms were crossed, fists fight against his shirt. Lips in a fine line, he kept glancing between her and outside.

Y/N snorted a very thin, awkward laugh, putting her tubes of paint in her bag, “What’s the alternative? Stay here?” Her heart skipped at the thought. It was ridiculous. No, she couldn’t do that. For her sake and his, it would be better if she went home.

“Well ya, I mean, you could.” Bucky shrugged, taking a couple steps away from the window. Arms still crossed, and shoulders tense near his ears. It was obvious he didn’t seem to like the idea either, and that only made her feel worse. Guilty, and uncomfortable.

She shook her head, “No, I can get a cab. They drive in all kinds of weather.” The weather app had said to stay off the roads and inside if at all possible. It was getting dark. Earlier than normal due to the heavy clouds blotting out the sun. But Y/N couldn’t imagine staying the night after this week.

Maybe last week it would have been a fantasy come true. Like in some stupid romcom, but now? After Sunday? It was a fully-grown monster of an awkward, awful idea. Complete with horns and a snake tongue.

At the door, she slipped on her shoes and zipped up her coat. Bucky grabbed her arm just as she was reaching for the doorknob, “Stay.” He stated, quietly, but seriously.

She glanced up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat the formed from being able to smell his cologne, “I can’t.” Y/N was surprised at how vulnerable her voice was. She hadn’t meant to sound like that. It was supposed to be stronger than that. More resolute. Jerking, she pulled her arm from his grip and shook her head again when he opened his mouth to argue. Hand on the doorknob, she opened the door and stepped into the hall. It was even colder now, and the dim lights overhead flickered, buzzing. Even colder without Bucky’s hand on her arm.

Only just making it to the stairs, Bucky caught the strap of her backpack. Y/N whirled around on him, “I can’t stay here.” She repeated, managing to be just a bit firmer this time. Not even flinching, he took another step closer to her. Her hands trembled slightly as anxiety started to pour into her veins, clawing at her head.

Cautiously, Bucky guided her heavy bag down. Taking it off her, and she found herself letting him. The way he stared unwaveringly at her, as if seeing the dark tidepool of emotions behind her eyes, made her face grow hot with bit back tears. He shouldered it, and placed a hand on her arm, “You can.” He took a breath, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts then continued, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you out there.” Bucky squeezed her arm and then stepped away, giving her space back.

“But it’s,” Y/N’s breath hitched, panic making her stomach feel sick. The cold bit at her fingertips and her hands balled into fists. Nervously shaking her head, she tried to swallow all the wrong words and find the right ones to explain herself, “It’ll be so awkward after—”

“It’ll be ok.” Bucky assured, giving a light smile. It reached his eyes, making them shine with tender light, “We’ll just watch movies and have fun. I’ll even make you dinner.” Slowly, he took another step back, edging closer to his apartment door. A hopeful expression making his handsome face soft, and sweet.

It didn’t take much for her resolve to crack. Too exhausted and strung out to even put up a real fight. She let out a shuddering breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding in, “I can take the couch then.” With that, Y/N stepped past him and retreated into his apartment. Taking off her boots again, she cursed the weather. Cursed winter. Cursed her landlord. Cursed everything that led her into this position.

Bucky shook his head, going back into the kitchen. Her bag made a solid thunk against the countertop when he plopped it down, “No way, you can take my bed. It’s fine.” She wanted to argue some more but then he was opening the fridge, changing the subject, “I was thinking tacos?” Bucky offered, and she unzipped her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch.

Leaning against the counter, she watched him pull out a thawed pound of hamburger. Then shrugged, “Works for me. Guess this means you’re finally going to cook for me.” She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips. Every time they were at her house, they usually ordered takeout. There were a few rare times where she made easy stuff. Like hamburgers, mac-n-cheese, or stir-fry. But not all that often. Whenever they first started working together, Bucky never stayed long enough to need food. Once they did start eating together, Y/N didn’t feel like she had enough skill to even try and fix anything for him. It was only recently that she got comfortable enough to try.

“You are a guest, and it is dinner time.” Bucky waved a spatula at her, flicking on his stove. A light blue flame burst to life under the burner. Once the hamburger was in the pan, he used his spatula to divide it into chunks, starting to cook it.

“Anything you want me to do?” She asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, why don’t you go finish the movie? I’ve got it.” He waved his free hand towards the living room. Then he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, rummaging through some of his cupboards near the stove.

Nodding, Y/N left him in peace. Somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to try and carry conversation. It was getting easier to ignore. The awkwardness fading back just a bit, but it still couldn’t be considered comfortable.                                              

   After dinner, which was delicious, Bucky disappeared with their plates. Y/N relaxed down into the couch, pleasantly full, and continued watching the Incredible Hulk. Since she was staying the night, they might actually make a dent in the Marvel franchise.

Bucky returned with a bottle of scotch and two glasses with ice. He set them down on the table in front of her and she eyed him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He snorted, lifting the amber and black bottle closer for her to see, “Just thought you might want a drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asked skeptically but didn’t deny it. She wasn’t much of an alcohol person, even less of a scotch person, but a buzz did sound tempting. Y/N was a happy drunk. The giggly kind, and she liked how it made her feel. As long as she didn’t get too sad. If she got too emotional, then it didn’t go well.

Bucky poured himself a glass, and tipped the bottle towards her own, waiting for the go ahead. Huffing a sigh, she waved her hand towards him. He smirked and filled up her glass, “I don’t want you to get drunk. We’ve just never drank together. Thought it might be fun. A buzz and Marvel movies could be a good mix.” Then he screwed the lid shut and sat the bottle on the table, taking up his drink. Fluidly, Bucky moved back over to his seat on the beanbag, dropping down heavily. Not spilling a single drop.

She picked up her glass, stirring the ice with her finger to try and thin out some of the scotch, “Never been to your apartment either.” She quietly mused, crossing her legs up under her thighs. His apartment ran warmer than her own, but her feet were chilly even in her socks.

“Guess tonight’s just full of firsts.” Bucky agreed, sipping on his drink. They were sitting further apart tonight. Further apart than they had in a while. It made her heart heavy, so she took a drink as well. Bucky didn’t even flinch, and she full on grimaced.

“God it’s awful.” She laughed, shaking her head, lips smacking to chase the flavor away. It made her tongue feel dry and bitter.

Chuckling he took another drink and hummed, “It’s an acquired taste.” His eyes danced with mirth in the dim lighting of the living room, a smirk made his mouth tilt in a sinfully charming sort of way. She had to look away, back down to the melting ice in her glass.

“I think you mean that you drink enough until your tongue goes numb and then it’s not so bad.” Y/N translated, taking another mouthful, and flinching again. It burned all the way down to her stomach. Nose wrinkled, she blinked as her eyes began to water, but she tried to school her expression. Not liking that she could hear Bucky trying to stifle his laughter.

“Try not to let it hit your tongue so much. Come on, haven’t you taken shots before?” Bucky teased, eyes flickering from the TV back over to her. The light made his jaw sharper and caught streaks of his hair, making them almost blue. From her position on the couch, she could still see snow coming down through the window across the room. It glowed like fluttering glitter past the streetlamps. Not slowing at all.

She nodded, focusing back on Bucky, “Ya, some but I always had a chaser.” Her skin was already feeling honey glow warm. A little tingly. It was good scotch. Bucky hummed, the sound of the movie filled up the empty space between them. At least, it was empty if you ignored all the things left unsaid.

Over the next hour, Y/N finished her first glass, and poured herself another. Right alongside Bucky, who refilled his glass a few minutes before her. By then, she could tell she was tipsy. Giggling at some of the terrible humor in the movie, and really at anything at all. Until she found herself watching Bucky more than the movie. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

By the time her body started to feel flickering warm all over, Y/N didn’t have a clue what was happening in the movie anymore. It was nearing the end, and the apartment was faintly lit from the kitchen. Mostly flooded with the light from the TV. It reminded her of their situation a week before, but she didn’t want to think about that. In fact, she wanted to focus on another problem at hand.

Standing up, Y/N felt her head swim just a bit, but she managed to walk perfectly fine. She wasn’t that far gone. Just the kind of buzz that gave a false sense of bravery, and horrible impulse control. Right then, she couldn’t understand why they were sitting so far apart. So, she closed the few short steps between them and plunked herself down on the second beanbag chair next to Bucky’s. His eyes widened, and he stared at her, snorting a laugh when she grinned cheekily at him. Then she wiggled in the seat until she was comfortable and leaned over to let her head rest on his right shoulder. All without saying a single word and took another sip of her half full drink. It didn’t taste bad anymore.

A few beats of silence passed, and she tried to focus back in on the movie, rather than the obvious fluttering of her heart. From her position, she could feel the strong muscle resting just under the sweater. Bucky finally shook his head in disbelief, the beads rustled as he relaxed back into his own chair, and asked, “Comfy?”

Y/N hummed and nodded, nuzzling against his arm because god he smelt good. And damn if he wasn’t cozy and perfect. Her hand curled loosely against his sweater, thumb rubbing the soft material. Knees up on the beanbag, and her body contorted into a small ball.

When she didn’t offer a verbal reply, Bucky didn’t push. Instead, he shifted his arm until it was wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her closer. Head on his chest, Y/N laughed again at the awkward adjusting she had to do to get comfortable again. Shift till she was halfway on his beanbag and hers. Legs stretched out further to balance, and her hand holding her glass rested up on his waist, other tucked underneath her to stay propped up. His arm around her shoulders, and other hand still holding his own scotch on his thigh. But then everything was flawless. And she didn’t want to ever have to move again.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” Y/N asked playfully, fingers rubbing nonsensical circles against her glass. She could feel every breath he took, and faintly hear the beat of his heart under her ear. He was so warm and strong underneath her. It was comforting. The credits of the movie were starting to play, and she loathed the thought of one of them getting up to put in another.

Bucky tensed, but didn’t move. He rubbed his thumb against her bare arm. Sometimes it felt like everything he did was the most natural thing in the world to do. Like their relationship had reached a point where it should have been as easy as breathing. If he would just let it. Then he shrugged, the motion jostled her just a little, “I guess cause it’s not really what friends are supposed to do.” Words mumbled and stilted. Awkward. He wouldn’t look at her when he said that, just stared down at the cup in his hand. Metal contrasting against fragile glass. Both glinting in the harsh light from the TV.

Before he could pull back, she caught his wrist and sat up to meet his eyes. Her hand kept his arm around her shoulders, and she only adjusted herself just enough to look at him properly. Their faces were dangerously close, but she barely noticed, “But we do it, and we’re friends, so it can’t be too bad.” Her voice was soft, insistent. Eyes betraying the sadness welling up deep inside of her. It felt like the burning in her stomach was heading up into her throat. His skin was smooth against her fingers, and his arm was a reassuring weight over her shoulders. Bucky made her feel safe. Even when he was breaking her heart.

Bucky whispered her name like she was squeezing the life from his chest and sighed harshly. His eyes darted away from her own, lips pressed into a fine line, “Ya but it’s wrong, and makes things complicated.” He closed his eyes and tapped his finger against his glass, the sound sharp over the TV. She could already see his walls closing, shutting her out again.

“It doesn’t have to.” Y/N shook her head, clasping his hand tighter to try and keep his attention. His callused fingers were rough against her own, and she could see his chest rising and falling faster. Like he was trying to keep himself calm. Still, she pushed, “If it makes you happy, and me happy, and doesn’t hurt anyone, then why is it so wrong?” She spoke quickly, and her voice was starting to slur just a tad. Like her mouth was running faster than her head. The hand holding her drink gripped it tighter. Condensation making her fingers slick. Head tilted, she tried to make him look at her. Suddenly desperate to make him understand.

At that, Bucky did tug away. Stood up and moved a few steps over to the other side of the coffee table. He picked up the bottle of scotch and refilled his drink. Again. His hands were shaking just a tad, and he slowly put the lid back on and sat the bottle down. Then he waved his glass in the air as he tried to explain, nearly sloshing it over the edge, “Because it can’t happen. And that—” He jabbed a finger at the beanbag chair he just vacated, like it was an example, “Will lead to things happening, and nothing can happen between us.” He pointed between the two of them, face flushed, and took another drink. Eyes sharp and glistening, his hair fell across his forehead as he swallowed. Then he carded his fingers roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He sounded so sure. So stubborn and it just pissed her off.

“Does this make you happy?” Y/N stressed, gesturing between them. She stood up too, stumbling a little when her feet caught on air. Still, she steadied herself, head high, and finished her drink. When he didn’t respond, she sat her empty glass down on the coffee table a bit harder than necessary. It echoed over the music filling up the room with background noise. When had they started arguing?

Frustrated, Bucky groaned and turned so he wasn’t facing her. He shifted his glass to his right hand, knuckles white. Delaying time, he swallowed another mouthful, quiet. His shoulders were tight, the muscles rolling as he clenched his fist. When he glanced back at her, his face was blank again.

Seeing his emotional barricades up again made irritation burn the back of her throat like hot coals.

A whine caught in her chest, and she shut her eyes tight. The anger melted into something darker. Something harder to swallow that had her arms wrapping around herself, and made her shift awkwardly from foot to foot, “Don’t I?” Her tone dropped at his silence, vulnerable and nearly drowned out by the end credits music. Hurt at him shutting down again. Shutting her out again, “Make you happy?” Y/N clarified. Emotions switching on a dime as she stared at his broad back.

The TV cut out to the title page, and he turned, snatching the remote off the table and flicked it off. Then tossed it back onto the table, only for it to clash and skitter off the edge onto the floor. Shadows clung to the room, only pushed back by the small light from the kitchen and window behind her. Then silence pressed in on the room and highlighted all the words not being spoken. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, Y/N tried to keep her breathing even and to stay quiet. Let him boil in whatever emotions were making him pace between the couch and wall.

In the cluttered space of his apartment, she felt small because he took up so much of it. When he got like this, she could see the soldier. Could see everything he tried to keep in control burning just beneath the surface. All the things he tried to never say. The panels of his left hand hummed and shifted, flexing into a fist and relaxing again when he finally stood still.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he brought up his hand to rub at his face, messing up his hair. When he glanced back at her, he grimaced, and exclaimed, “Of course you do!” His eyes were shining bright in the dark, glimmering with bit back pain. Eyebrows pinched and jaw tight, like he was fighting to keep everything in check. Even every perfectly measured breath he took.

“Just not enough?” Y/N asked, still soft and stepped closer. She reached down for the bottle, eyes never falling from his cooled expression, body swaying in a fluid motion as she stood back up. Bucky silently watched her as she unscrewed the top and watched him. Forgoing a glass, she took a drink from it. The edges of the cap bit at her fingers. Desperate to feel anything but what she was feeling right then. Maybe it’d numb her the rest of the way out. Make her pass out, or black out to a point where things just didn’t hurt anymore. With the way things were going it might be nice.

It’d be a blessing. Even for a minute.

“It’s not like that.” Bucky denied, words cracking in his throat at the end. Y/N edged just a bit closer, until they were chest to chest. The bottle brushed against his thigh where she let it swing at her side. She had to stare up to meet his eyes. He finished the last drink from his glass, then stooped to sit his down too. Every movement tickled the air around him and made her skin tingle from how close they were. His shoulder brushed her hip when he straightened back up. Then his hand cupped over her own and he took the bottle from her loose fingers. Forging his glass as well. His touch still burned. He didn’t offer to clarify what he meant. That it ‘wasn’t like that’ didn’t explain much of anything.

Instead of rounding another pointless circle with him, Y/N asked, “Why do you want my painting?” She crossed her empty arms, rocking back on her heels, but not moving from her stubborn position in front of him. Not yielding again. The scotch made her stupid brave, and she was cracking up. The façade she tried to keep up falling apart piece by piece. Part of her understood that this conversation would lead to nowhere good.

That she was tearing everything apart. Messing everything up. Spilling all their rotting issues out between them. Ripping up her heart for him to see as she desperately tried to understand his. But she couldn’t bring herself to shut up again. Too angry and hurt and frustrated and tired.

This had been a bad idea from the start. She should have just stayed in bed this morning.

That jarred him a bit. Bucky snorted incredulously, “Because it’s beautiful, and I love your work.” His full lips wrapped around the bottle and he took a swig. Rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a slow breath. Disheveled, he dropped the bottle back on the table, almost spilling it. The cap still bit at her thumb where she pressed at it. Flipped it around between her fingers. Something to fidget with.

“Do you know why I painted it?” Y/N continued, licking her lips, mouth full of cotton. She rocked back forward, nearly toppling into him, but he caught her shoulders. Steadying her and almost smiling, but it died before it could reach his eyes. Her hands came up to balance herself and she dropped the cap to the floor. It clattered, but neither of them bothered to try and pick it up, “Why I picked the subject?” Her fingers curled against his chest, enjoying the touch and slow to pull back.

Bucky shrugged, shaking his head, hands running down her arms to her elbows before he released her, “You were pretty cryptic about it in class.” He took a half step back, but she caught the hem of his shirt, and stubbornly held onto it. Stopping, he glanced down at her hand, but didn’t force her to let go.

Willing her fuzzy mind to focus, she explained, “It’s about love.” She pressed a free hand to her chest, hysterical laughter bubbling from her as she continued, “It’s basically my heart poured on a canvas.” Y/N tugged at his sweater, voice cracking at the end. Jaw clenched like she could keep her words from shaking, she stepped forward challengingly, “Still want it?” Her bottom lip trembled, but she kept her head high and proud.

Bucky’s voice dropped and sounded rough like gravel when he replied, “Of course.” His eyes held her own, and she ground her teeth, exasperated. Nearly stepped on his toes when she let go of his shirt and threw up her hands, catching her fingers in her hair, yanking roughly.

“I was thinking about you.” Y/N whispered, flinging her hand in his direction, nearly hitting him, “Not just you, but enough. Doesn’t that bother you?” Bucky was quiet, so she continued, shaking her head as the words tumbled out, “It’s about how scared I am. To care about you this much. About how messed up these feelings are, and how happy I was.” The tears were coming now. All the ones she never wanted him to see. They caught in a knot in her throat, making her words thick. Her cheeks were wet, and she didn’t know when she started crying, “And I couldn’t explain it in class because I don’t feel that way anymore. It just hurts.” Her hand curled in the front of her shirt and she clawed at it, like maybe she could just dig out her beating heart and give that to him too, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, but I don’t know what to—”

The words were stolen from her lips. Immediately forgotten. Taken the moment she felt his breath against her mouth, and then nothing but soft warmth. His hands caught her wrists from where she’d been wildly gesturing, and he stilled her. Cold metal and warmth contrasting against her skin. He tugged her forward, arms caught between their chests, and his hair tickled her cheek when he stooped down. So much taller than her that he had to duck his head.

Bucky was kissing her.

Y/N’s eyes fell closed, and her lips parted against his. Everything floated still around her. His hand released her wrist, and cold metal cupped her cheek. Confused, she pushed her hands against his chest, pulling back just an inch, “Why? What—” Then he tilted his head and kissed her again. His teeth nipped her bottom lip and he crowded against her. A soft groan caught in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes to be closer. Questions buzzed through her head, but her world was spinning too fast. Everything suddenly felt warm and happy with him anchoring her to the apartment floor. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine to trying to ask him again. Not while he was finally kissing her.

Bucky shuddered when her tongue brushed his top lip, and his fingers curled gently in her hair. Leaving her no room to move away again. For just a second, he broke the kiss, and let his hands rest against her shoulders, thumbs brushing across her neck. He kissed her forehead, and then her cheek, tongue lightly brushing against the tears still damp on her skin. A soft bubbling giggle left her. Relief mixed with euphoria and disbelief left her insides sparkling like liquid gold.

Nearly floating, Y/N fisted her hands in the back of his shirt against his shoulders. Then took a step back, making him follow her. Still bent over but his hands came to rest against her hips. A tender smile spread across Bucky’s lips while a grin made her beam back at him. Every step she took he matched. Never more than an inch apart. A breath of laughter escaped him when she stumbled, nearly taking him down with her.

When she sat on the couch, he pressed her back until he was hovering over her and kissed her again. It’d been a long while since she had a make-out session like a desperate teenager, but everything fell into place with him. It wasn’t hard to remember why she loved kissing.

Not when she was kissing Bucky.

Next Chapter

Tags: @boy-leave @wtfholland

[acaseforpencils]

Jason Chatfield.

Bio: I grew up in the far flung suburbs of Perth, in Western Australia, and used to spend my paper route money on MAD Magazines (I cheaped-out and stole my dentist’s waiting room issues of the New Yorker. I think I was the only kid who looked forward to going to the dentist).

I moved to New York in 2014 and started pitching to the mag in person. I’m not sure Bob liked me, so I went back to pitching via email. Then I went in on his last day and finally sold my first piece. I feel like it was his final f—k you to the magazine. “Here! Have a Chatfield!” 

Find this print here!

The cartoon was a goofy play on Vlad the Impaler. 

I didn’t sell to the magazine again until last month, but I’ve had a handful sold as dailies. And I’m published in MAD often, so they’ve clearly done away with any of their standards.

When I’m not drawing gag cartoons I write and draw a syndicated legacy strip called Ginger Meggs which I took over 10 years ago. It’s been around since 1921 and now appears daily in 34 countries. He’s kind of an Australian version of Dennis the Menace, except he predates him by about 30 years.

Tools of choice: For drawing/roughs, I use a Prismacolor Turquoise clutch pencil with a red lead and try to find some paper with a little bit of tooth. The mixed media pads at Blick do the trick nicely.

I ink using a Uni-ball Vision Elite Stick Roller Ball Pen… or a Pigma Micron 03. 

DO NOT use the Uni-Ball Vision Rollerball Pens, Fine Point (0.7mm) if you’re traveling. They explode on planes. And ruin your copy of The New Yorker.

For a wash, I just use watercolor and whatever brush is lying around. Nothing fancy. There’s a scanning app on my phone called “Adobe Scan” which does a nice job of scanning line-art into a PDF when I’m out of the studio and need to email in a quick rough.

I use a Wacom Mobilestudio Pro for finished artwork. I like to get out of the studio and work from a bar or restaurant, so it helps that I can take that with me. I use a little glove that I got on Amazon so I don’t grease up the screen, and the felt-tip nib that comes in the pen-holder makes the friction between the stylus and the screen more like pencil on paper. Unfortunately, they’re not waterproof, as I found on a recent vacation…

My wife plays piano and sings at bars around the city so I’ll often sit at the bar during her sets and draw. Digital/Traditional depends on what deadlines are most pressing. (She has a weekly residency in Astoria —if anyone’s interested in going, let me know!)

A lot of people email me for advice about tablets —I’ve been trialling/demo-ing Wacom products for 15 years— I think they’re great. If you’re married to doing stuff by hand but want to colour digitally, you can get a decent tablet without going broke. Depends on your workflow.

Writing Desk: My wife and I were living upstairs in 5A when my neighbour in 4B died. He was a brilliant poet and had an incredible old writing desk. It’s the only thing that was left in the apartment, so I’m looking after it ’til his grandson moves in at the end of our lease. I work for countless hours at this old thing. It’s beat up, but I’ve patched it together enough that it won’t collapse and bury me mid-brushstroke. I’ve stuck a few of my favourite toons on the top of it.

Tool I wish I could use better: My brain. It really is a sack of cats. Whenever I want to sit and do work, it clocks off. Then it comes up with a pearler of an idea at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. I write it down in my phone, but autocorrect makes it indecipherable by morning.

I like working with my writer friend, Scott. We both do comedy at night and have developed a nice short-hand. We also seem to have the same library of references and can build on each others’ premises, which tames my sack-of-cats.

Tool I wish existed: The Deadline Extender.® I’ve never missed a deadline, but that said… an extra 3 or 4 minutes to allow for a terrible wifi connection, or a errant scanner wouldn’t go astray.

Also: The Deadline Extender® PREMIUM: Let’s you go back in time to when you were procrastinating and slap yourself in the face. $30 p/month.

Tricks: Ok, well. This is going to sound a bit Dalton Trumbo, but bear with me: I do my best work…in the bath.The most productive 3 hours of my week are during Scotchbath Sunday; an immoveable chunk of time on Sunday evening whereby I lock myself in the bathroom, run a bath, lug my drawing stuff onto a bit of wood that sits over the bath, and just write and draw. Nothing else. I write weeks worth of my syndicated comic strip (Ginger Meggs), I write New Yorker cartoons, scribble up roughs for dailies— and when I feel like I’ve earned it (usually 2 hours in) I tap the side of the bath three times, and my wife peels herself from her piano and I unlock the door to a nice big glass of scotch. It’s a hell of a carrot on a stick to work towards when you’re stuck. (PS. Lest you think I’m some kind of Don Draper-era misogynist; the scotch reward part was her idea. I think she realized it keeps me in the bath and out of her way.)

Anyway. It’s a great way to switch gears creatively. It’s like being on an aeroplane. No wifi, no phones — just the work you need to get done. Get involved. #ScotchBathSunday.

Oh! And if I get my deadlines done for the week, I have a small budget for a solo lunch somewhere where I can eat cheese and draw. I really didn’t know cheese ’til I moved to America. (And yes, I’ve already been to Wisconsin. Good Lord.)

Tips? I always tell younger artists to not even think about touching a drawing tablet until they’ve learned to draw by hand first. Otherwise they’ll always be drawing away, knowing they have the insurance of the CTRL+Z key at their disposal if they screw up a line. That’s not a good habit to have when you’re working to a deadline. But, once you do know how to draw, by all means dive head-first into the digital realm. It’s incredible. Procreate, Sketchbook or Photoshop are all great.

Misc: One of the hangovers from working in advertising illustration is that I’ve had to be a bit of a chameleon style-wise for the last 15 years and haven’t allowed myself to just settle into one style. Lately, I’ve just decided to say “Bugger it!” and try and find a loose, consistent style that I’m comfortable with, that’s an apt conduit to my silly ideas.

I always loved George Booth’s line, and his ability to create a scene with so much movement but just at the right moment in time. Also Sam Gross’ dark, hilarious cartoons with perfect line-economy. And I’d give my left arm (I draw with my right) to know how Barry Blitt has so much control with his washes…

Chatfield’s portrait of Sam Gross

While I’m geeking out, I love seeing younger cartoonists find their feet and thrive in a style that just feels like they’re speaking to you— Ellis J. Rosen, Sofia Warren, Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell, Jason Katzenstein, Amy Kurzweil, and a seemingly endless list of talented younger artists who are putting in the work are a big inspiration. 

I know it should be Steig or Thurber or Addams, but my favourite cartoonist is Sergio Aragones.

I was always so enamoured of MAD growing up and studied the lines of Jack Davis, Mort Drucker, Al Jaffee and the Usual Gang of Idiots. I remember being so frustrated I couldn’t even come close to getting my work to look like theirs, but I think I found a style somewhere in between when I fell short. 

I think Wil McPhail’s poses are masterful, and I wish I knew how how the hell he did that. One day I’ll trudge up to England and knock on his door to ask him. I find myself doubled-over at John Cuneo’s Instagram, and Ed Steed’s absurdly funny gags. I have a slew of toons I’ve torn out of years’ worth of magazines and taped to my studio wall, or my zillion year-old writing desk. I’m constantly humbled by how generous and welcoming the existing crop of New Yorker cartoonists have been to a goofy Aussie immigrant — Joe Dator, Matt Diffee and Pat Byrnes, Mort Gerberg and an ever-growing list of prolific, talented cartoonists who make the 99% weekly rejection tolerable.

I’ve made some of my closest friends and have been lucky enough to meet my cartooning heroes through the National Cartoonists Society. I got to spend a lot of time with Sergio at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the UK last year which made my year. We were signing together for a whole afternoon and I spent more time geeking out with him than signing.

Okay. Enough drooling. Sorry.

I’m a fan of cartoonists.

Website, etc. I have a weekly podcast where I throw around ideas for New Yorker cartoons with a fellow comedian and writer, Scott Dooley. It’s called “Is There Something In This?” It’s a bit of fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we do take the art of writing gags very seriously. It’s an extremely difficult skill to master, and we’re virtually zygotes at it. We have lots of listeners now, which is bewildering. Talking about drawing is like dancing about architecture, but here we are. Anyway you can find it on iTunes or wherever you waste time listening to podcasts.

My website is jasonchatfield.com and my comedy stuff is up at jasonchatfieldcomedy.com  ( I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 11 years. If anyone wants to come see a show, hit me up! I’ll put you on the door). My instagram is @jasonchatfield. I’m still trolling the British chap who has the @jasonchatfield handle on Twitter to no avail. To that end, I’m @jason_chatfield on Twitter.

If you want more art supplies in your life, A Case for Pencils is on Instagram and Twitter.  You can also find me, Jane (the person who created/edits this blog), on Twitter here, which is where I stick the paintings that I’ve been doing instead of interviewing people consistently (I needed to balance working on other people’s work and my own work!). Oh, and If you’d like to support this blog, which is always very appreciated, there are many different ways to do so, which you can find here!

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Southside Queen - Jughead

summary : Jughead Jones becomes intrigued with Y/N, once he saw just how much respect  she has over SouthSide High and how an abused girl, keeps herself together

word count : 2.1k+

warnings : Serpent!Jughead, self-harm scars, mentions of abuse, Bitchy!Betty, angst, sad!reader

pairing / characters : Serpent!Jughead x Serpent!Artist!Reader,  Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews, Veronica Lodge, mentions of Cheryl and Jason Blossom.

prompt : imagine - Jughead is no at SouthSide High, and no doubt are things between him and Betty were ending. You were Southside’s, queen, much like Cheryl was for the other school. Once Jughead saw you, he was intrigued, because how could someone with so much darkness, have so much poise?

A/N : omlll, I’m sorry but I am literal trash for Serpent!reader (partially because I feel like deep down I am a Serpent.) Anyways I kind of wrote this for myself ig?? There’s probably gone be a shit ton more of Serpent!reader soon. ;) anywayyyss, enjoy. p.s. you should read more under the cut.

masterlist | requests | prompt list | my wattpad

Jughead Jones was now part of the Serpents, not only at the high school, but with the gang itself. When Betty saw her beloved ‘soul mate’ as Veronica would put it, she knew things between him and her were going to end quickly. And I guess, that’s what naturally happened. The two distanced themselves from each other, hardly speaking to one another unless they caught glances in Pop’s.

Ever since then, Jughead has tried to move on, to try and make new friends at his new school. He was already quite popular, only because his dad was in jail for having been involved with the murder of Jason Blossom. From that first day when people surrounded him, made bonds with him, he knew that this was his new life. But he didn’t expect to see you in his new life.

You were what some would call ‘The Queen’ of Southside High, like they called Cheryl Blossom at Riverdale High. You would catch anyone’s attention when you walked into a crowded room, just by the click of your black, heeled shoes, and the leather jacket that was oh-so familiar to the town.

Jughead saw you walking down the hall one day, and seeing the familiar jacket, he followed you to wherever you were heading. To his surprise, it was the art room. Sure it wasn't the best art room, but for you it was perfect. It inspired you to create pieces of art that even the Mayor herself, admired.

The raven hair boy watched as you pulled out supplies after supplies, filling two desks full of pencils, markers, pens, watercolors, charcoals, and acrylics. He watched you sketch out the original drawing on a thin piece of paper, before sketching lightly onto the paint canvas.

You sensed his presence when you barley turned your head and saw him standing at the door’s entryway. You continued mixing your pigments as you spoke to him. “Need something, Jones?” You asked, calling him by his last name. He was surprised that you actually noticed him, instead of ignoring him like everyone else.

He coughed, stepping forward and into the dimly lit room. “I was uh- just, watching.” Jughead mentally face palmed at himself. He was making himself sound like a creeper.

Your laugh sparked something inside the boy, though. “Well if you wanted to watch my paint, you could have at least said so earlier.” You put the newly mixed pigment on a brush and began applying it to the canvas. From Jughead’s view, it resembled blood. Dark red, heavy substance. “But then again, you didn’t know I painted, did you?” Jughead shook his head in response. He walked closer to where you were, sitting a few feet away from you and your canvas.

“You seemed... intriguing.”  He said slowly. Your chuckle, and the wave of your Y/H/C waves, just drew him in further.

“Now I have been called a lot of things, but intriguing? That’s a new one.” You sat your paint brush down and turned to him. “Why do you find me so intriguing, Mr. Jones?”

Jughead shrugged. He had only been here a few weeks, so he really didn’t know much about you, but he knew he wanted to know more. “You just seem to have so much strength, so much poise, but you also seem to have a lot of darkness too. Just like the rest of the town.” He mumbled the last part, mostly to himself but you still heard him. 

You hummed in response. “All of those are very true. I do have a lot of strength, I had to have some if I was going to live on the Southside, go to this highschool, live in this town. Now the poise, that just comes naturally, much like the darkness. But everyone has darkness. It’s in me, it’s in the other students, it’s in you...” Jughead looked up, locking eyes with you. “That’s why you find me so intriguing, because you know that I share the same history, same future as you. A Serpent child.”

“I find you intriguing because you remind me of someone.”

“Yourself?” You rose an eyebrow. “The switching schools, living in foster care, being surrounded by people who only want to be around you because of your family, your past. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

Jughead was in shock. How could someone like you already have everything about him pin pointed so quickly? Maybe it was because he did see himself in you, or because you two did share the same fate.

The smirk that spread across your dark, pigmented lips only made his questions grow. You picked up your paint brush again and continued on with your work. “Swing by Pop’s at six, we can talk more if you’d like.” Jughead saw that as his queue to leave so you could work. He didn’t answer though, not saying if he’d go to Pop’s or not, he just left.

You were sitting at a booth near the windows, sketch book and pencils sitting in front of you. Even if Jughead didn't show up, you were going to stay. This was your place to draw, like it was his place to write.

Only three minutes later did the door to Pop’s open and set of the bell. You didn’t look up, not knowing whether it was going to be Jughead or just another customer. But when a pale skinned, dark haired boy sat in front of you, you knew who it was. Not helping yourself, you smiled and looked up at the boy sitting in front of you.

“You showed.” You smiled. closing your sketch book and pushing it to the side. “I didn’t think you would.”

Jughead shrugged, leaning against the cushioned booth and swinging a lazy arm around the top of it. “Like I said earlier- you’re intriguing.” For the first time in a long while, you blushed, and the sight made Jughead’s heart flip over and over.

You leaned forward, your hair falling in front of your face slightly. “So you gonna ask questions, or are we going to sit here all night?” You rose an eyebrow. Jughead chuckled.

“Alright, someone's eager.” He teased. “If we’re asking questions, I want to know what inspires your art.” The question made you a bit confused. “Don’t get me wrong everything you draw, paint, it’s all breathe taking, but it’s also dark. What inspires it? Inspires you?”

You sighed and slowly drew up the sleeves to your leather, Serpent jacket. On your wrists were scars. Varying from cigar and cigarette burns, to cuts, that looked a lot like self ham. Jughead’s voice caught in his throat as he looked at your scars. “I lived with an abusive father, to say the least. And a mother who was to scared of her own husband to protect her daughter. The fighting, the abuse, the burns, it turned my mind against itself and I began to think that I deserved what I was getting. I thought that he was doing this to me, to show me that no one would love me unless I did as told, kept my mouth shut, be an obedient daughter. It was so bad that I started to cut myself. I hit a major artery, one time which resulted in me going to the hospital. That’s when everyone found out about my situation. The Serpents were furious, the kicked my father out, turned him into an outcast, same with my mom. I was taken in by a much... friendlier family. They made sure I was happy, and I was.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “My past, my pain, my suffering, that’s what inspires my ‘dark art’ as some would say.”

Jughead sat there, speechless. How could someone do that to her? Sure, he hadn’t known her that long, but he knew that she didn’t deserve to be treated that way, especially by family. “I-I, didn’t know.” He stumbled over his words. You just shrugged.

“What’s done is done. I’ve kind of moved on from it. Now, Jughead, what inspires you? I know about your writings on Jason Blossom’s death.” Jughead rose an eyebrow. “Long story, but what does inspire you to write about such a horrible thing?”

“I guess it was the fact that so many people could have done it, could have taken his life, but to many things were missing from the story. I began digging with my friends, and we found the truth. In that truth we found the true Riverdale. A town of people, who were on either side of a war, and it was only going to get worse from there. We saw how dark Riverdale truly was. Maybe the darkness is what inspired me too.” When Jughead finished talking, the two of you both smiled. Neither of you had really ever had any friends that you could connect with on a personal level, but now you did. You had him, and he had you.

As he was about to ask another question, the door to Pop’s opened again and in walked his old friends Archie, Veronica, and Betty. Jughead’s eyes landed on Betty, who was eyeing him and the girl her was sitting with. You turned your head and saw the stares that the two of you were getting.

The trio walked over to you, obviously wondering what the hell was going on. No doubt they all saw the familiar marking on your leather jacket, which only raised their suspicion and worry.

“Juggy? What’s going on here?” Archie asked, looking between you and the raven haired boy.

“We’re just talking, Archie. Calm down.” He said.

Betty scoffed. Her eyes landed on your still exposed wrists. “What, about Heroine? That’s what those marks are from, right?” She said, looking down at you.

“Their cigarette and cigar burns from my father, actually.” You said, tugging your sleeves down. Veronica glanced over at her friend, but Betty said nothing. “And actually we were talking about his writing and my art, thanks for asking.”

Jughead gave you an apologetic glance from the corner of his eye. You just sighed. Veronica forced a smiled. “Well, I’m Veronica, this is Archie, and Betty.” She said. You only nodded. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.” She sighed.

Archie scratched the back of his neck. “We haven’t seen you in a while, Jug.” He said, obviously upset.

“I’ve been busy.” Was all he said.

Betty grit her teeth together. “With the Serpents?”

“Betty.” Archie said in a warning tone.

Jughead sighed. “Yeah, with the Serpents, Betty. I’ve been getting to know the people who have taken me in.” He said the last words to them, but he looked at you. You smiled a little.

After a few seconds of awkward silence you stood up and collected your sketchbook and pencils “Well it was nice meeting you, sort of... but I better get going.” You said. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Jughead.”

The boy nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” With that you walked out of the diner and to your car in the lot.

Once you had left the three teens sat down. “Who was she?” Betty asked quickly.

“That was Y/N Y/L/N. She’s basically the Cheryl Blossom of Southside High, but she’s not a bitch like she is.”

The red head’s eyebrows knitted together. “Y/L/N? Why does that sound so familiar?” He mumbled. Betty was also thinking about your name, why it sounded so familiar. Then realization hit her.

“It’s familiar because her parents were the Serpents that were cast out of the gang, for nearly sending Y/N to kill herself.” She put her head in her hands. “She was the reason why the Serpents tale care of all their members children if something bad happens to them.”

Jughead huffed and stood up. “Yup. It was nice to see you guys again, but I have to get going as well.”

From that day forward Jughead’s feelings towards Betty had definitely changed, along with his feelings towards you. 

The Southside Queen. 

[cgpaints]

Monthly Review, June 2017

Hi everyone!

I have been (and still am) a little hesitant to post an monthly review thing this month because to be perfectly honest there just is not much to show as much as actual work is concerned. Most of my freelance work is under NDA and there was not too much time left for personal work and/or studies because as I mentioned last month me and my girlfriend finally moved into our new appartment and have been insanely busy setting everything up.

During the move something happend though, that I wanted to talk about. In a way my thoughts tend to spiral down quickly into the „aaah whats the point -realm“ when it comes to writing these long texts. I was debating myself if I should actually do this privately or if I should write it down and share it publicly but as the thought of sharing it has been spinning around in my head for three days now I figured that I might as well just write it down and try to get it out of my head that way. Maybe this resonates with someone, and maybe someone might even feel motivated to share his/her own views on and experience with this.

The thing I want to talk about is my experience of self worth and how it relates to my work, my attitude towards my work that is in turn resulting from that, maybe even my view on painting and drawing in the widest sense (as it relates to me personaly) and at last about how this might have started to change a little bit during the last few days in particular AND how aaaaaall that relates to the picture at the top of this post.

BUT first things first.

As I already mentioned we moved into a new appartment. It‘s large, it‘s cool, it‘s expensive and thus scary as fuck for a struggling freelancer like me, but that shall not really be the point here, maybe next month once the situation has settled in a little bit.

What‘s important here is that in this new appartment I do have an entire room just for myself, a REAL grown up person‘s office basically. Up until now all I had was a tiny tiny room that I could barely fit a desk in and for the past six months when my girlfriend and I moved around a little bit from Airbnb to Aribnb while she was tryting to get a fulltime office job I did not even have that. A simple desk had to to do during that time.

So now I have this biiig room with more than enough room to have all my drawing and painting supply out at the same time, ready to go whenever I want and it is great!

A few days ago after we got all our stuff into the new place I was sitting in my chair looking aorund the office trying to figure out what to hang on my walls, I just needed something up there, the room was too empty to feel comfortable.

I sat there thinking about all the awesome art from all the different artists I admire that I would like to decorate my walls with but the issue was that I don‘t own any prints not to mention originals here and just printing something out seemed kind of lame.

Being a little bummed out about that I proceeded to go through all my stuff when I found all my marker and watercolor drawings I did last year during „maysketchaday“. I looked through them and I noticed „ hey these are kind of fun!“. Moreover I noticed that they immediately sparked the desire to just grab my markers and get to painting again. I remembered the fun I had trying out a new medium last year and this just got me going. Weirdly enough I did not have this feeling for YEARS. Even during the time I painted these, sure it was kind of enjoyable but it all had this „o well, it‘s a drawing I guess“ feeling to it.

And then something hit me, and this is the thing I want to talk about here.

While feeling kind of excited about getting to drawing right away after rediscovering these tiny things actually feeling good about them I immediately remembered that I used to beat the SHIT out of me „emotionally“ after each one of these, sucking the joy out of the process I have just felt minutes before. I would be bummed out that the drawing did not come out the way I wanted, that I was not improving( which wasn‘t even true) and that I am not even close to anything „all the other artists“ are capable of. I took the drawings, put them in a drawer and would be happy to not have to look at them again.

Remembering all this I kept thinking about it and quickly noticed that I am doing this all the time, I beat myself down after each and every drawing and painting I do. I do this subconciously afer every single drawing I finish. I do this based on the work others do and even based on the response I get from it on social media, stupid shit like that. I am  not talking about a healthy mentality that made me realizy my shortcomings and motivated me to do better next time, I am talking about being resentful and downright hateful towards my own work and to be frank to myself as a person.

Thoughts like „ I‘ve been doing this for years now, I should be better“, „others have started drawing later than me and have surpassed me by miles, why am I still so bad at this?“ „is talent actually relevant afteral, or am I simply not intelligent enough to see the flaws and to be able to improve on them?“ were my daily routine. To a degree they still are, I just started conciously noticing this days ago.

I realized what I have been doing this for a period of years and it almost seems comical to me now that I was actually wondering why I was getting kind of depressive and resentful towards my work and myself even. All I do all day is trying to improve my skills with all that I have and after each time I decide to punish myself for that. What is supposed to happen if one keeps that up for years and even turns it into a subconcious routine?

Obviously you stop at least liking what you are doing, hell you might even get scared to do it, which is definitely what I experienced.

It feels a little weird to write this down in a rather short way (although for a simple blog entry this sure looks enormous) because this way of thinking has becomce such a huge part of me.

Measured on the time I spent doing if for the last 10 years I think it is obvious that drawing and painting has been the most important aspect of my life. During that time it has acutally become a part of me. I as a human am defined a lot through it. There just is not much left of me when one takes the drawing and painting aspect away from me, it is not just what I do for work. It‘s another topic to decide if this fact alone is actually good or bad, what I am trying to say is that this thing „painting“ has a lot of power over me. My personal well being as a human is highly dependant on the way I handle my relationship towards painting. If this relationship is compromised by constant self hate and punishment it‘s only obvious that all this bleeds into the rest of my personality. I feel like as a result of all this I have been kind of desolving into this unhealthy spiral of self doubt and resentment towards myself.

Its also another story to go into of when I think all of this has started, all I know for now is that this is something that HAPPENED, it has not been that way from the beginning. At some point something switched and drawing which was this huge and exciting unbeatable but beautiful and POSITIVE mountain of a thing became this dreadful chaotic monster that one can not get a handle on no matter what.

I can‘t really tell why all this dawned on me as soon as I held these drawings of dead people in my hands but it sure did. I also tend to be rather scepticals towards these moments of „revelation“ but I felt this so strongly and clearly at that moment and I still do that I decied to act on it and to ultimately write about it.

I decided to take all of them and hang them on my wall and to just have them there as a reminder that this is actually what I do and that no matter how these turned out these were the best things I could do at that time and that I don‘t have to be ashamed for or angry about them but that I am actually allowed to like them for what they are.

Now are they the best drawings ever? Hell no, they aren‘t even „professional quality“ (whatever that means) and I am not trying to trick myself into thinking that they are. But they are a part of me in some way, I painted them, I gave it my all when I painted them and this is a good thing. They have a right to be pinned on that wall. They remind me where I was a year ago, they show me where I should improve on, they motivate me to do better and they make me want to get to painting as soon as I enter the room. What‘s bad about that?

The impulse to just lock them up in a drawer and hating myself for having created it is so utterly destructive and stupid, sitting here right now writing this makes me realize that even more.

As a matter of fact I came up with a plan out of all of this.

There is still a ton of free space on my walls, I am going to use it. Whenever I paint or draw something that I think turned out okay, or god forbid even „good“ I will pin it on the wall. One day sooner or later the wall will be filled with no room left, that‘s when I will start swapping out drawings one at the time. The new „best“ drawing will replace the current „worst“ one on the wall. I think I will also divide the wall into sections I want to improve upon like „watercolors“ „oilpaintings“ „anatomy“ „design“ and so on. I want this to feel exciting again and I want to actually see my progress rather than just feeling like sinking into a swamp of „o well I hope I am going to end up somewhere sometime“

There it is, I think I poured my heart out, I don‘t really know what to say anymore.

So what‘s the point of this text in addition of just allowing me to sort out my thoughs on that topic?

I think that if you belong to the kind of artists (or people in general) who tend to go down the path of self loathing for trying to do something thats arguably hard to do, no matter if conciously or unconciously you might want to start looking at what you are doing selfhate wise and try to figure out a strategy for yourself to get out of that. As I already said I have been thinking about this for the past week or so so nothing I say is really worthy of being called „founded advice“ or anything like that but there are very personal lessons that I think I am learning right now which feel right and more importantly feel like a good means of proceeding into the future with a healthy mindset to improve and enjoy whatever this all is.

Don‘t be ashamed for what you are doing and incourage yourself like you would incourage a person you care about. Not being the best at something should feel interesting and exciting, it does not mean that you suck as a person. You are your own benchmark, do your best, try to improve on your weaknesses and be thankful for your wins and losses on that path.

Don‘t be an asshole towards yourself!

Talk to you next month!

Talk to you next month!

[myaekingheart]

summer road trip 2018 ; day four

Nothing too eventful today. My grandparents were out of the house early this morning, as they are avid churchgoers and had to attend choir practice before the service. They told me not to worry about joining them and to just sleep as long as I wanted, especially since my mom implanted the idea of my being in bed until 1pm into their brains. Much to everyone’s surprise, I didn’t sleep that long. My stomach woke me up around 10am, and I laid in bed for an extra hour scrolling through my phone, blowing my nose, wiping my watery eyes, and cursing the pollen gods for torturing me like so. When I finally did get up, I nearly died by how sweet my grandparents are. They set a place at the table for me before they left for when I did wake up and get breakfast: a bowl for my cereal, two glasses for juice and water, a spoon, and a napkin. I poured myself some Honey Bunches of Oats, orange juice, and water and went to town watching the wildlife out their window and checking out facebook to see what pictures everyone posted from the wedding last night. Funny enough, my grandparents came home right when I was finishing my food. They entered the house quietly so as to not wake me up if I was still asleep, but I heard them and turned around to say good morning. The rest of the day was really relaxed and not worth mentioning much of but I’m going to detail the minutia anyways because...that’s just what I do. So after I was done breakfast, my Pop Pop went out to do his usual grocery shopping and I hopped in the shower. Perhaps my biggest regret was either not getting one last night or using so much hairspray on my bangs because while I was glad they were plastered in place, they made brushing a bitch when I was getting ready for bed. I tried rinsing most of it out but to no avail. The only way to fix it would to be wash it out myself in the shower. Washing my hair was kind of nerve-wracking, though. I was scared of how it’d look after the fact, what with the fiasco from yesterday and all. Fortunately it wasn’t totally terrible but I mean, I had to brush it so that it would lay correctly and remember to part it on the left side instead of the right and because I don’t have layers or anything, the rest of my hair looks really drab and frizzy and shit. I guess this is the price I pay. For what, I have no fucking idea. Anyway, I don’t want to dwell on my hair for too long anyways. After my shower, I got dressed and then hung out for a bit. When my Pop Pop came back, he asked me if I was hungry and I told him I was so they grabbed all their lunch fixings and let me go to town. I had a turkey and cheese sandwich with mustard on a roll, potato chips, and three chocolate chip cookies. So a very well-rounded meal, I think. I also saw five deer within ten minutes, four of which were all together, in my grandmother’s backyard (seeing as their house backs right up into the woods and she is legit Snow White, setting out bird feeders and bird baths and corn to attract all the cool wildlife, and she takes incredible pictures of them). Afterward, I decided to catch up on my Mermay drawings since I got really behind what with the road trip and the wedding and all that good stuff so I mapped out what I was going to do for my four pieces and began tracking down supplies. I don’t have a sketchbook to draw them in-- the first two were just on regular printer paper-- so I was going to do the same for these next four but my grandmother, who takes art classes and is a really talented watercolor painter, grabbed a blank sketchbook she had with her supplies and a pencil and a quality eraser and let me go nuts. I sat at the kitchen table working for a bit, and I got through two drawings, before I started to feel kind of...off. It was the typical lightheadedness and stomach cramps I get sometimes and I was seriously scared I was going to eventually get sick. I tried to push through it like I always do but to no avail, so I resolved to migrating back into the guest room for a “nap” to try and regroup. I didn’t necessarily think I was tired but I ended up falling asleep for two hours anyways so I guess I lacked more energy than I thought. I woke up to my grandmom knocking on the door to let me know dinner was ready. As someone who has not had a good, well-rounded, home-cooked meal like this in a while, I was pretty satisfied with the food. We had honey citrus chicken that was good but a little too mild for my taste (my grandmom tweaked the recipe a bit so that it had less cayenne pepper in it-- I liked it enough to want to make it myself at home for my boyfriend, but I’m definitely going to use the recommended amount of seasoning this time for more a kick), corn, rice medley, and Hawaiian sweet rolls. I didn’t eat all of everything seeing as my stomach was still feeling a little iffy but I tried my best to eat as much as I could. The rice probably went down the easiest, to be honest, but then again I am lowkey addicted to rice and it was really fucking yummy so, you know, fuck it. I don’t always like using this term, either, but “rice is a safe food.” I mean, hey, the BRAT diet exists for a reason and without rice, it would just be the BAT diet. I didn’t think I could handle dessert but my Pop Pop bought two whole containers of fresh strawberries and he cut them up and sugared them and my grandmom scooped them into dishes with whipped cream and I honestly could not resist. They were delicious and I took my time eating them and basically cleared the bowl. It was really nice, too, because my Pop Pop went into the dining room to answer some phone calls about business stuff so my grandmom and I were left by ourselves at the kitchen table to have a really interesting conversation about relationships. I can’t for the life of me remember how we got on the subject but it was really cool to hear stories from the old days when she and my Pop Pop were young. They’ve known each other since they were ten, and will have been married for 61 years this week. They met through church and apparently their first interaction was in a contest that she beat him in by selling more one more box of candy Easter eggs than he did. She told me about how he’d always carry on in the back of their meetings, and she’d tell him that if he couldn’t shut up he should just go home. She told me about how she wasn’t allowed to go steady as a teenager because her father believed that you needed to experience multiple different types of people and personalities in relationships rather than committing to just one person and restricting yourself to that without ever knowing what else anyone was like, and if you were making a mistake or settling or something, which I thought was a really interesting concept honestly. She told me about a boy she was with once that she really thought would be the one but he was in a military family and was shipped out to Texas the day after a dance she asked him to, and that he had to borrow a tux from someone because all of his clothes were packed but he did, in fact, take her, but then didn’t write her for a year because he apparently lost her address and didn’t get it back until his mother came back into town and looked it up. She told me about how my Pop Pop asked her to his senior prom (she had already graduated-- she’s a year or two older than him) and that was how they started dating. Then when my Pop Pop was off the phone he came back in and we talked about the good old days at their previous church and all the crazy activities they held like a Minstrel Show where my grandmom played something whose name I forget but go to wear a crown, and my Pop Pop was someone named Mr. Bones and had a Scotch plaid cummerbund and bow tie; the “Womanless Wedding” where all the men dressed as women, and two of them were belly dancers in the little bras with bare stomachs and my Pop Pop was Maude and how they were all in the back trying to figure out how to put on bras to give the illusion of breasts; the “Tom Thumb Wedding” where my mom as a child was the bride even though she had a 102 fever-- she insisted on doing it anyways. It’s funny because I had always thought back to my other grandfather, my dad’s dad, who passed away in 2014 and how he always told me stories of when he was a kid and how there were times when I didn’t really listen or appreciate the value of it. Now that he’s gone, I still regret not engaging in that history so now that I have a chance at that again with my mother’s parents, I want to take advantage of it and really listen because I don’t see them very often and they’re getting up there, as well (my grandmother is an 83 year old breast cancer survivor). I don’t want them to pass away without having learned about their histories and really paid attention to them. The thought of going through that remorse every day again breaks my heart, honestly. So if I have anything else to say, it’s to actually listen to older people and open your mind to stories of the olden days because they’re far more enriching than you think they are and in the end, you’ll feel closer to that person by knowing their memories and their past. Just a thought.