#for a while i even had a separate canvas up in my program just to have my handwritten

[moeblob]

Haley ! Dressed up as Dorothea (post skip) from FE3H!

In case anyone wants to know, the lineart took me as long as Clue (1985) with all three endings. Like. Just in case anyone wanted to know.

[shewreckz]

Hey your art is pretty whimsical and radical my gender non specific broseph, per chance would thou be able to enlighten us on how you draw such bodacious fine art? Like how you draw bodies and fave and what have thee. (Fr tho your art really cool and I'd like to see how you make it)

okay i have whipped up a quick little visual of my thought process while drawing!! it might not be the best cause im not the greatest at teaching but if anyones curious ^_^

first lets start with how i draw bodies

a lot of people like to do the "skeleton" method which is where you draw lines and circles to plan out where the limbs should be. honestly i really dislike doing that because i like to always have volume and shape in mind when drawing bodies, but if it works for you thats great.

instead i separate the body into different pieces, kinda like an articulated doll. i think it helps visualize all the moving parts in a 3d space and makes posing and perspective a lot easier. i can also always add the detailed anatomy on top of this basic model like you see on the left. its always important to work from simple -> complex. drawing a pose while being too worried on anatomy will really hinder your drawing process.

to improve doing this it really just takes practice and observation. i could be here all day talking about proportions, and how many heads high a person is, and each specific muscle group, but i reccomend you go and watch videos and study professional artists on your own. as someone who has been drawing and studying these things for so long, i barely think about how many heads high a person is when im drawing a body. its kind of like learning how to play and instrument or driving a car. it becomes second nature eventually, but you have to apply those skills and work through that period of time where youre still trying to program it into your brain.

after you get a hang of the basics you can take this basic model and draw all types of body shapes with it. i say its always important to play around with making your body types diverse. its not only fun to do but helps make all the characters you draw unique and recognizable. (dont be like vivziepop).

dynamic posing can be the hardest thing to master for a lot of people. the best way to learn how to pose is to not think about it too much and just doing it. for example in my figure drawing class we had to sketch out gesture drawings from a picture in 15 seconds. excercises like that help a ton in making you feel more comfortable when drawing from a reference. you should definitely reference a LOT when it comes to poses, it helps build this visual database so that eventually you can get to the point where you can just draw accurate and dynamic poses from memory. after getting to this point eventually you kind of start thinking of your canvas as this tangible 3d space and considering your characters in 3d space helps make the poses feel a lot more realistic and interesting.

ok now a quick little tour into how i draw different faces yaaaayy!!!1!1!1

main thing with my art is that i LOVEEE drawing dynamic face shapes i think its so important to avoid drawing the same slim faces over and over. shape language plays a big role into this. like for example the face on the middle is more square, the one on the left is more oval and the one on the right is more circle. shape language helps communicate so much about your character without even saying a word about them and just helps differentiate people from a glance.

facial features also play a huge role into making your faces different. these are all drawn from the same exact face shape but look like entirely different characters by adding variety in the features. different noses, eye shapes, lips, etc. can make such a huge difference

i think before any of that its important to learn the anatomy of the face though. again im not gonna go into how many eyes wide a face it or how far the nose is from the mouth but like its always important to learn the fundamentals before stylizing stuff. again the face is a 3d space and if you dont consider your face a 3d plane the features will kind of just look like theyre floating on your characters face like soup...theres a lot of great resources and tutorials online take advantage of those!!! and reference from artists you like too it helps a ton.

and then you mix that all together and Boom you have cool and interesting faces. you will best that same face syndrome in no time if you take my advice Trust...

anyways yeah thats the soda design philosophy hit that like button if you liked it or douse me with tomatoes and kick me off the stage if you think i give bad advice ill leave the decision up to you

[bslack12]

Art, Art, Art, and Sports

The past two days have been probably been the most art I have consumed in that short of a period in my lifetime. Yet, despite my existence currently inhabiting Paris, this segment of time does not feature the Louvre or the Musée d'Orsay. It also does not only include happy stories and enjoyment.

Upon my first viewing of the itinerary, I knew that the class components of this stretch would be my least favorite of the trip, and it was not even close. Not only were the plans going against my preferred taste in art, but it included my participation in making said art, an anxiety inducing trigger in me that takes on of the top spots on that list. I have never been good at art and have always been told that, so I have always steered away from that field. I do not like to do things in which I know will fail, as the aversion to anything but success is what guides my life. Furthermore, I feel like there is a block in my brain when it comes to creative things; it truly feels like there is nothing clicking, a feeling which I never get anywhere else and is quite scary as much as it is annoying.

Nevertheless, when in Paris, right?

I actually consider myself quite lucky to have found a program in my favorite city and country in the world that is so geared towards my interest that I am all in for 90% of the course. So, I sucked it up and was going to make the best out of this stretch. Sunday morning started with a trip over to Saint Sulpice to take in my first mass, which happened to be in French. It was an amazing building and a beautiful service. I was able to pick up bits and pieces and connected the leftovers that did not get scratched during the reformation to what I experience back home in the United Methodist Church. It was also cool to complete another part of my unofficial Da Vinci Code hunt, finding what I assume was the inspiration for the "Rose Line" in the church. (I added another stop this morning, finding one of the Paris Meridian markers at the Louvre.)

It was then time to head over to the Atelier des Lumières for the immersive art exhibit. While I enjoyed the shows for a little bit, I was not captivated in the same way that I have been in other places. First of all, the exhibits were a little to modern for my taste in art that centers in Baroque, Classical and Romantic periods. I also just felt that, if I am viewing art in Paris, it should be firsthand, not a light projection of a painting somewhere else. However, it was much better than I thought when I first read the itinerary and the way that we were immersed in the art was way more my speed than when I though I was going to have to make something.

To continue the theme, though, we headed over to the Petit Palais to view the works housed there. This wasn't initially on my big to-do, but it was something I just stumbled on during the Bastille Day all nighter, as I saw that their collection was free admission and was connected with Beaux-Arts. I would have to say that my favorite spot there was Dutch/Flemish painters and their Baroque landscapes/still life, as I had not really seen much from this time in the other places that we went. I really enjoy how this type of art manipulates the light by darkening things out and drawing the viewer the the subject of the painting. I was also really drawn to a David piece, The Death of Seneca. The was it was positioned in the gallery was such that the painting was almost divided into two, with the glare cancelling out the other half of the frame. It added another dimension in the division between the men and the women, who were already separated by the emotions they were exuding as well as the meridian of the canvas.

The day ended with an interruption to the theme of art, although I would argue that the purity of sport and the grace in which athletes perform can be its own category of art. The Para Athletics World Championships have been in town all week and as it is the only live event of note happening in the city during my stay, it felt my duty to attend for a night. It it quite impressive to watch the para athletes perform, as they push past physical, mental, and financial boundaries to pursue competition at the highest level. It was also nice to see the event treated as any other sporting event would, not being othered because the athletes are handicapped. My favorite event had to be the universal relay, where runners from four different classes come together to run a lap.

Moving over to today, I had another early start. After waking at 7 and immediately getting ready, I headed down to the Louvre to complete my aforementioned Da Vinci Code stop, grab a quick croissant and tea, and stroll through the Tuileries before reaching the objective of the morning, La Musée de l'Orangerie. Since hearing about it on our first day in Paris, I was determined to make it here and see Monet's Water Lillies. So, I rose early and arrived at the museum when it opened. I did not realize it was so important to pre-book here, but it was not a problem as I did not have to queue for more than 5 minutes. Once I was inside the room designed specifically for the masterpiece, I was stunned by how massive they were. For some reason, I had not realized how grand the canvases were. It strikes you immediately and does not allow for any view of the room, or a singular painting, to be the same. I really enjoyed just sitting and strolling through, working my way around the 8 panels and enjoying their beauty, from close and afar. I was probably down there for over 45 minutes and it was wonderful. I made my way through the other halls of the museum, but there was not much else that was in my area of enjoyment and it was close to time to leave for Bercy anyways.

This was where my own personal hell would come to life. I would enjoy and learn about the arts all day, every day, but I usually draw a firm line on doing it myself. My mind is moving too fast to slow down and translate anything from my head into existence. Yet, I still had to sit down and do it so I gritted my teeth and tried my best. The act of spray painting itself was somewhat enjoyable but it was very frustrating not having the physical ability to replicate the quality of the examples and the work of my peers. I was very much on edge during this, especially when I had to contribute to something that I knew everyone else cared a lot more about than me. I tried my best to slow down and not rage out, but I was mentally exhausted by the end of it.

To try and work myself down, I went over to the Hôtel de Ville to finally see the Olympic Rings before a leisurly walk along around L'Île de la Cité, beside the quais of the Seine, and down Boulevard Saint Michel to Maison des Mines, where I was feeling more of myself upon my return.

[verved]

Some people were asking about my process for this last piece so I did a little process gif of it which goes:

1. Sketch (flip canvas 100000 times now so you can get any weird jankiness out here and not later on when it’s harder to correct)

2. Lines/corrections. (also a lot of canvas flipping)

3. Flats, all set on a clipping mask to the base color.

4. Shading, done separately on each flat layer color with the “lock” setting on. I mostly color picked by eye for this, but for the subtle reflected colors I used a mix of color dodge and color burn with a low opacity brush.

5. Added the light from the secondary light source, his biolights, using color dodge.

6. The background was worked on from here on with minor changes going up til the last step, but in this gif it’s completed. I blurred it slightly to keep the focus on the subject/add depth.

7. Painted over some of the lines (now set to multiply w a dark blue color), added the autobot brand, and rendered more reflections on his hands with color dodge again.

8. Painted the energon, with four separate layers: the bottom one (darkest color) being set to normal or multiply on a medium opacity, the second (base color) on normal mode at a medium opacity, the third (highlights) on normal mode at 100%, and the last being a bit of gradient for glow on a layer set to “lighten”.

9. More lighting effects on a few separate layers consisting of multiply, color burn, and color dodge. The multiply and color burn layers were there the entire time, but I kept switching them on and off periodically so I could shade better, and only towards the end did they stay on mostly. I had them there from the start and worked on the shading underneath them while taking into account how everything would look once those layers were permanent. I also had the main light source set right from the beginning and based the shading on that.

10. Some more finishing touches and rendering, again using a lot of color dodge for the highlights.

11. The finished piece, after some minimal tweaking in Camera Raw Filter (the image needs to be flattened). If you’ve been thinking hard about color you shouldn’t need to do much here, but I also like to add some grain using Camera Raw.

** When using a color dodge layer I LOVE to do this in the layer settings bc it makes everything pop so much more:

* Camera Raw Filter is specific to Photoshop, so idk if there is an equivalent for other programs, but it’s not necessary, just nice to have if you need to fix values and stuff.

* These layer modes may look different in other programs so fiddle with what works.

* Using a slightly textured brush makes any errors or shaky lines a lot less obvious, and adds nice effects when shading using color modes.

* Liquefy tool is your best friend if something looks off, even at the last stage you can mush things around a bit to look marginally better. Sometimes you don’t see errors till it’s almost done. 

I am by no means a professional, this is just what I’ve learned myself over the years.

[spinchip]

As in Lonesome South

Summary: After returning to Ninjago from that Lighthouse prison, Dr. Julien decides it's time for him and his son to move on.

Warnings:  Dr. Julien is not a good dad. Memory alteration and Controlling behavior. ask to tag? Pairing: gen Wordcount:1700 A/N: The name for this fic comes from Hillbilly Man by Gorillaz lol

Packing up his meager room is not a difficult feat, Dr. Julien is glad to note, even in his advanced age. He doesn’t have many belongings now, his life spread out across Ninjago and across the sea, the things left behind and abandoned worthless in his eyes now that he’s been reunited with his son. His greatest creation. It’s not as if he couldn’t stop by that ancient bunker out in Birchwood Forest and gather up his old blueprints, maybe pick up projects left half-finished as his hands wrinkled and gave out, but there’s a clean and simple sort of appeal to a fresh start. Out with the old, in with the new. He had time to start again now. He and Zane could travel down to the outskirts of Metalonia, there’s raw materials there, new construction. Its growing fast with the upcoming tech giant Borg Industries basing it’s manufacturing plants in the heart of the city. It’s an easy place to get lost in, an old man and his son blending in with the crowd, a perfect spot to camp out at and get back to work inventing something new. Something to show up all those slip-shod messes he’d slapped together to appease Samukai.

In a way though, he can’t help but be grateful to the skulkin and his cronies. Without the elixir of life they’d handed him, without the resurrection tea poured down his throat, he’d have been lost years ago. The gift they’d given him had come with a price, seasons passing wondering if his son was safe out in the world without him, stuck up in that lighthouse tinkering away at inventions he felt no passion for. All alone except for the silly little bots he cooked up in his spare time. Now thought, free from the sea salt and stone, he had time laid ahead and a million projects he thought he’d never have the years for suddenly at his fingertips. Zane was his life’s work, and he’d turned out wonderfully. What could he do now, with another life to dedicate?

Organizing his meager things, he pulls out a duffle bag from the School's storage with DARKLEYS slapped on the side, not quite dusty but on its way there with the rebranding they were undergoing. Gutting the School’s unsavory past and installing a new, more healthy learning environment was a big endeavor for the ninja, especially since they wouldn’t be able to rely on his son to help pull it off. He and Zane pitched in when they could, helping repaint, clean up, and discuss a new curriculum, but it was a shame they’d never get to see it come to fruition. It reminded him of his days teaching to pay the bills while he chased his masters degree, there was a comforting nostalgia he almost didn’t want to leave. A shame it was time to go. Zane might have been a good teacher, too, if given the chance- he was as smart as his old man sometimes! Remarkably patient too, always willing to try and talk it out and find the best in people. Too bad. Maybe they could come back and visit, if work didn’t get too busy. He wouldn’t mind getting into the swing of things and whipping up a lecture for the kiddos. He could decide all that later, though. Now it was time to pack. He shakes out the bag and stacks his items neatly inside: a few notebooks of ideas he’d already cooked up, spare clothes Zane and Sensei Wu had graciously paid for, a few old books from the Library he was positive no one would miss. He was even sure to grab a copy of Zanes old favorites, maybe he’d like to read them again when they got settled. He made a mental note to grab his toothbrush and comb from the bathroom before they departed, puttering about his meager living accommodations to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

The room itself was a modest little thing, an old student live-in dorm repurposed into more permanent lodging for himself and Zanes other team members. They were nice, a bit more long-term than he thinks Master Wu is willing to admit, but Dr. Julien found them quite cosy. Though anything was a step up from that damp and dreary prison he’d been locked in. He’d always loved the beach, but if he never smelled salt water ever again it’d be a blessing… He frowns, stepping over to the map spread out across his tiny desk, mapping out a possible route down to Metalonia. Sticking to the outskirts would take them closer to the coast, but setting up shop in town might bring unwanted attention. It could be worth it to take the longer route along the east if he really wanted to avoid the sea… it’d put him close to Ignacia, but it might work.

There’s a knock on the door, bright and sharp, and Dr. Julien isn’t surprised when he hurries over and opens the door to his son on the other side, “Zane!” He greets warmly, ignoring the troubled look on his face and pulling him into an embrace, “Have you finished packing yet?” He asks, breaking away.

“That is what I came to speak to you about.” Zane says hesitantly as his father begins to tidy up the room, closing the door behind him for privacy despite the others doing their best to give them space and clearing out for this conversation, “Father, we have discussed this, I…” He frowns openly, “I do not wish to leave.”

Julien stops where he’s folding up his map, staring up at his son with a scrutinizing look, “Zane, I thought you said you didn’t want to be separated from me again? Are you feeling alright, son? Come here, let me check.” He beckons Zane over as he tucks the map into his coat pocket, moving out of the way so he can sit on the edge of the mattress for a diagnostic.

Zane obliges on instinct alone, sitting down, “I am fine, Father,” He says, moving his gi aside to open his chest panel anyway, “And I do not want to be apart, which is why I think you should stay.” Dr. Julien moves to sit next to his son, running a quick inspection of Zanes internal wiring as he speaks, and Zane zeroes in on the way he collapses onto the bed- his knees aren’t what they used to be, “At your age, you shouldn’t be traveling anyways.” He says, obviously trying to be gentle.

Dr. Julien laughs, smiling up at his son as he shifts through the mechanics in a confident routine so familiar it came second nature, memories of them going through these exact motions surfacing faintly, “You don’t need to worry about me, Zane, I have plenty of time left. The ressurectea has given me another lifetime, and I want to spend it with you. It could be like it was before, just the two of us. I was happy.” He examines the connection points on his switchboard, making sure they’re all attached properly, “Weren’t you?”

“Of course!” Zane says instantly, cupping his father's hands to send the confirmation home, “I love you, and I’ve missed you ever since I got my memories back.”

“But now you want to go our separate ways?” He squeezes Zanes fingers, before letting go, going back to his ministrations inside his chest to distract himself, “You and I are family, Zane. I’m disappointed you want me to spend my final years alone.”

Zane shrinks, curling in on himself at those words. Dr. Julien has to hold onto the door of his chest panelling so he won’t pull away too far, where he can’t complete his check-up, “I don’t. I am sorry.”

“Come with me.” He insists, smiling up at Zane as if to say all will be forgiven. They would be, these moments of hesitance. He could let them go.

The checkup is comfortingly familiar, but Zane shakes his head, “My friends are here, they are my family too. I cannot leave- I have responsibilities. I am the white ninja, I am protecting people who cannot protect themselves. Is that not what you wanted?” his vocal processor goes small at the end, soft and uncertain.

“It is, and you’ve done a great job. I’m so proud of you, but now it is time for us to move on to better things… You’re my son, Zane. My greatest creation. I love you, and I won’t leave here without you.” Dr. Julien trains his eyes on his inner workings, his hands stilling, a slight nod as a silent decision is made.

“And I am not leaving.” He says firmly, his own decision giving his words strength, then, “Will you stay?” Zane’s voice has the slightest hint of hope, complex emotions coming so easily now that he’s lived a long and complex life. A shame to lose all that progress.

He sighs deeply, a sad put-upon thing, “No, Zane.” and there’s no need to elaborate. 

He watches his facial expression as he does it, half a second of shock and raw hurt, a snap of devastation and fear before his mechanics register that the memory switch has been flipped, the click of it near deafening in the room- the expression vanishes, his wide eyes go glassy and half-lidded and his jaw clenches shut, his body locking and freezing as he goes into limbo. Shoulder stiffly casual, his hands dropping into his lap where they’d made a last-ditch attempt to stop this and stalling short, sitting open and useless on his thighs. All at once his humanity is stripped from him, leaving him a blank canvas, empty and waiting for either a reboot or specific command. He was his son. He was his creation. He was his.

Dr. Julien closes up his chest panel calmly, tying his suit back up properly. He’d need new clothes, these would make him ask questions when he reset him. Dr. Julien didn’t want questions. He didn’t want refusals.

“Come now, Zane.” He says, tapping the nindroid on his forehead, watching those hazy eyes try to focus while in forced stasis. There’s nothing behind his eyes, no recognition other than the need to obey that has been programmed into him, “Follow me. It’s time for us to go.”

Zane carries his bag as they walk right out the front door.

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

k.taehyung/reader 

genre: arist!taehyung, painting!reader, parallel/horror universe

warning(s): violence, mannequins+paintings coming to life (bc ppl are scared of that), blood- but like red paint instead, horror/dread/action elements (i tried okay), bittersweet 

words: 20.3k 

One-shot | Two-shot | Series | Drabble | [Rated: Pg:15] 

Loosely based on Ib, an RPG Horror/Adventure game + Leia (Vocaloid)

synopsis: Taehyung, a freelance, abstract artist is in the middle of one of the worst art blocks known to mankind.  In an act of possible inspiration, he drags his best friend, Namjoon, to a new art gallery just opened.  Only, he didn’t know that his visit would result in him getting separated from his friend and thrust into a new gallery.  One he wasn’t familiar with in the slightest. Along with this mysterious new gallery, a collection of strange creatures lurking around every corner came with the unsettling territory. 

a/n: i literally started this in March of 2019.... I have no excuse for the wait other than my bad.  Regardless, Colorblind is FINALLY done and out! It’s obvs waayyy longer than I intended it to be back in 2019 when I could only pump out like 9k at max- it’s over double that now LOL. But that hopefully aint gonna stop y’all (pls, lmk what you thought/thnk, i’m so anxious about this one alsdjf)

“Here you are, gentlemen.  Enjoy your visit to the gallery,” the receptionist at the counter smiled as she would to anyone.  Handing over two pamphlets to the two men who stood in front of her.  One was dressed in white track pants, two stripes running down the legs.  A white, collared, button-up shirt with a tie exceptionally loose around his neck with a blue, track jacket with red and white stripes down the sleeve, matching his track pants.

The other man wore loose black pants around his hips.  A black and white vertical striped, sleeveless jersey with three buttons on the collar with a red cap placed backward on his faded orange-haired head.  

These two men were two Kim’s. Taehyung and Namjoon.  Taehyung works as a self-employed, freelance artist; throwing and brushing paint over a canvas in random ways and creating objects and places for his mind to be free in abstract ways.  Namjoon is a humbled journalist for a local news blog for his exceptional wording and phrasing on all sorts of topics.  

Taehyung had come to the new gallery opening not too far from his home in search of inspiration.  He had been in a bit of a slump lately, and with nothing to do and nothing worthwhile happening, he was desperate.  Namjoon tagged along because he was tasked with the job of writing a review of the new establishment and creating a small article to include in the next online publication.

“Welcome to the grand opening of The Gallery of Leia!”

Taehyung mumbled to himself as he read the title of the pamphlet given to him.  “Why Gallery of Leia?” He questioned the name as the receptionist answered promptly.

“Leia is the one surviving piece of an artist from way back when that survived a brutal fire.  In honor of its survival, the gallery was named as such.”  She said with a smile as Taehyung nodded and nudged Namjoon’s arm, who stood next to him.

“Let’s go,” he said as he walked inside, not trying to stick around for more conversation and holding up the line of people also trying to gain entry inside. Namjoon following him as he quickly scanned a the front of the pamphlet.  

The gallery was two stories in a decent squared size building.  It was quite the exercise trip in Taehyung’s opinion.  Sculptures were placed against walls or out in the open for rotational viewing pleasure.  Paintings and sketches were hanging, littering the walls for guests to see clearly.  All the different pieces from all sort of artists featured here was amazing, such a wide variety as Taehyung’s eyes scanned the names.  Some familiar, some not.

“Wow, this place is pretty busy,” Namjoon said as he looked around. Namjoon had pulled out a tablet from his side bag, turning on the large touch screen as he took the pen attached to the side of it and opened up a program for taking notes as he started scribbling.  Taehyung peeked over his shoulder.  

“You haven’t even seen any art yet.  Why are you already jotting stuff down?”  

“It’s always good to start an article with how packed or how empty a place is.  The more people there, the more popular or interesting to the masses it is, which normally leads to more pros than cons.  It’s like a first look into how interesting it may or may not be.”  He rambled off like he’s answered the question a million times.  Taehyung nodded with pouted lips.

“You’re such a workaholic.”  Namjoon rolled his eyes at the remark, placing the pen between his fingers as he held his tablet and lowered it to his side.

“Let’s go look around.” The gallery itself, aside from the art pieces inside it, was stark white.  White ceilings to match the white walls and tiled flooring in yet more, polished white.  The lights weren’t as strong as one would think for a gallery, but if they were any brighter the receptionist would need to hand out complimentary sunglasses along with pamphlets because of all the lights bouncing off and around from the white  interior.

Namjoon was busy looking at a large-scale sculpture of a red rose as Taehyung wandered around not too far from him.  He turned down a hall that was surprisingly void of any warm bodies. He was surprised to find an area that hadn’t been cluttered with people yet.  Though, he assumed it wasn’t all that odd considering the early morning hour.  

Along the left wall was a large, long canvas, easily engulfing a vast majority of the wall itself.  It also happened to be the only piece in this dead-end corridor.

Taehyung stood in front of the painting as he looked over it.  Trying to see each and every detail.  He was in awe of the detail and how much time it must have taken to even complete such a large painting.  The dedication and time served to it was admirable.

The painting gave off an eerie vibe.  A dark background with what seemed to be the space of a studio, a spacey and wide studio with canvas’s on walls, frames hanging, paints and easels littering the space leaking into a greater mass of a space with even more dark, distorted art. As he continued to look at it, he stopped to blink, reset his eyes and rub at them so he didn’t go crosseyed and get dizzy.

As Taehyung gazed at the whole of the masterpiece, Namjoon strode up to him.  He whistled lowly in an impressed awe.

“Damn. That's one dedicated, dead painter.”  He walked to the plaque underneath the frame, kneeling so he could read the title of the particular piece aloud.  “Parallel Reality. Painted in 1996 by-” he couldn’t finish because the hall suddenly darkened.  Namjoon and Taehyung both looked at the ceiling and the flickering lights before they blacked out completely. Leaving the room dark and quiet.

“A blackout?” Taehyung questioned. Namjoon stood up, walking back over to his friend.  

“We should go back to the front desk.”  Taehyung nodded as the two of them began the journey back, stepping carefully and squinting to make sure they wouldn’t run into any sculptures or walls.  All the while, never once running into another person.  In fact, the entire gallery was completely silent besides their footsteps.

“Where is everyone?”  Taehyung asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.  

“I’m sure they’ve all gathered outside.  No point in staying in a dark gallery.”  The two made it to the front glass doors.  “It’s… dark outside?”  Taehyung looked out through the glass doors.  “It was just noon?”  Namjoon shook his head, pulling on the door, but the door refused to open.  “It’s locked!”  He grunted, yanking again, pushing and pulling on the door.  Nothing.  Namjoon sighed as he turned to Taehyung.  “Go look around, maybe someone is still here.  In the meantime, I’m going to try and get this door open.”

Taehyung nodded before he turned and walked back into the gallery.  The halls still dark, every window showing nothing but a dark, deep navy outside.  He walked to a window to look outside, maybe get a glimpse of what was going on.  But, nothing.  

He turned and walked away, but jumped when he heard someone banging on the glass of the window he had just left.  Running back, he could just barely make out the imprint of a wide handprint on the outside of the glass.  It made a chill run up Taehyung’s back. 

For a moment, he assumed it was Namjoon who had gotten out and was getting his attention to run to the front and get out.  So, he did, dashing to the entrance and when he didn’t see Namjon around any longer, he tried the door.  Still locked.  

He hissed as he whipped back around and went back to the window before he shook his head. As he walked around the gallery further, his eyes began adjusting to the darkness and eventually he was even able to make out some of the art pieces again.  

A painting of a black cat.  One of a man hanging upside down by his ankles.  A basket of fruit that he swore use to have an apple included in the basket.  The back of a woman dressed in nothing but red.  

He felt like he was walking in circles. More than ready to head back to just sit at the front until someone came- since someone had to at some point, he heard another set of footsteps.  At first he thought it may be Namjoon coming back to find him; however, the footsteps were too light to be his friends- he always was a bit of a heavy stomper. Taehyung turned and headed towards the steps as they seemed to move further from him instead of towards him.  

“Hey!”  He called into the echoey halls of the dark gallery. The steps halting momentarily before they started running.  So, Taehyung sprinted after them.  “Where are you going?!”  He yelled as he ran into an open, large venue.  He looked around as he ran, seeing no one around.  “Where are you?!”  He shouted before he stepped in a puddle.  No, not a puddle.  A puddle would only be an inch or two deep.  It surely wouldn’t be enough to engulf him entirely.  

Now, Taehyung was sinking.  Drowning slowly into the Abyss of the Deep before the lights flicked back on and the murmurs of people resumed.

-x-x-x-

When Taehyung woke up, his head was throbbing, his mind was fuzzy and his conscience more than a little confused.  Laying on his chest on the floor like a jersey-dressed starfish, he groaned as he pushed himself up to support his torso on his elbows.  His hair was messier than before as his bangs threatened to poke his eyes.  Looking back and forth, he was in a hallway.  The corridor was dark, a hint of purple and indigo surrounding the entire room.  Walls, carpet, ceiling everything was the same shade of purple.

Obviously, the polar opposite than the pure white of everything previously.

Rolling onto his back and pushing himself to stand, he wobbled as he held his head and tried to will away the headache that was beginning to slowly lessen.  

Going backward before trying to even round the corner down the way, he found a single wooden door at the dead-end of the hall.  Twisting the knob, he entered the small room.  The room was square, red and on the back wall was a single large painting of a woman.  Her eyes were closed and her face was blank.  Her hair was somehow painted off the canvas, down past the frame and onto the wall like it was real hair falling out of the portrait.  

In front of that portrait was a single small wooden table with a vase.  In that vase was a single, blue rose.  A rose with 10 large, vibrant petals and a vine that lacked thorns.  Taehyung had never seen a blue rose before- well, not a real, authentic one anyways. Everyone’s seen the fake, painted blue, red, pink, yellow, purple and whatever other color roses in dollar stores before. Thinking it was manmade, he examined it further, putting his hands on the table to close inspect.  He became far more interested in the flower the more he looked at it.  

It drew him in.  The color captivated him and the aura around it seemed almost important and he felt the slightest urge to pick it up.  Maybe he should, maybe it would be fine.  Reaching out slowly, he drew the rose from the vase and something akin to a jolt of electricity ignited his fingertips. It felt like he had somehow forged an instant connection with this flower as soon as the end of the vine left the crystal clear water of the vase.

Call him crazy, but he almost felt fearful of putting it back and leaving it behind.

The vase on the table cracked as Taehyung’s attention shifted to it from the rose.  Crack after crack spread on the vase before it burst into pieces.  Taehyung hunched backward to shield his face with his arms from the exploded glass.  Shards of glass sat on the table and fell to the floor as the water pooled around the wooden surface and continued to spread as it began to drip off the table’s edge onto the carpet.

“I guess, I’ll take it along.”  He muttered to himself as he turned his back.  As he exited the room, he failed to notice the woman’s portrait shift.  Her eyes opened wide- almost insane- as she smiled.  PItch black paint writing appearing under her frame in smeared text.  

WHEN THE ROSE WILTS, SO TOO WILL YOU WILT AWAY

Taehyung left the room and the hallway he returned to had changed from what he last remembered. There were random letters on the ceiling and floor, spelling something that Taehyung couldn’t make out in the dark hall.  At his feet, he felt himself kick at something when he moved to step forward.  Picking it up, he held a small blue key in his palm.  

Going further down the hall, he came to a forked path.  He could continue going down the hall or take the staircase he that presented itself to him.  The stairs lead up higher than he could see with two paintings on either side of the entrance. Two landscapes of a mountain range; one normal and the other an identical copy, only negative scaled.  Coming to a decision, he took the hall just to cover the ground floor.  Coming to just another dead end, he returned and took to the stairs up.  

At the top of the stairs was a door.  Trying it, it was locked. 

“Naturally,” he huffed.  Trying the key he had kicked with his shoe and picked up not too long ago, it fit perfectly and unlocked the door as he stepped through it.  The door slammed shut and locked on it’s own behind him.  The key becoming useless since their was no keyhole on this side of the door.  He dropped it, leaving it behind. 

He was in a library now.  It was a small room, maybe not even considered a library.  Just a room with bookshelves and books.  Like a compact study without a desk.

He didn’t recognize a lot of the books- which was surprising considering he did have a liking for reading.  He stopped scanning his fingers over the spines of books when among all the thick, sophisticated books was a tiny, thin spine of a bright red children's book.

Pulling it out from it’s snug place on the shelf, he held it in his hands.  It was a short, wide book with a picture colored very messily in what he could only assume was crayon on the cover of it.  Sitting on the ground, his back against the bookcase, he opened it’s thick, card-stock, wobbly pages.

The book was about a painter.  He had been painting his whole life, so long in fact that he started to blend his world with reality.  He would give his paintings ‘life’ and he’d treat them like they were truly alive.  In his mind, they were his friends.  

A painting of a lion toy no bigger than the size of a book, stills of sentient objects like a fan, and even paint brushes contained souls with a conscience and mind to this painter. Even a can of pressurized air that would ‘bully’ or tease the others when they least expected it was ‘alive’, leaving the painter to rip that painting of air up for it’s rotten behavior.

It ends with the painter creating a portrait of someone, something he wasn’t familiar with painting.  People weren’t his strong suit and as such, he was left in isolation for most of his life. His devotion to painting left him alone in reality because he ‘saw’ nothing else.  Thus, he created his own friend in a painting of a woman that didn't exist.  When she ‘came alive’ he even grew to fall in love with her.  The last few pages of the story were torn out, so Taehyung would never know the ending.  

“Who would fall in love with something they knew was fake?  Something painted would never come alive,” he muttered.  Considering the painter in the story to be an utter fool.

Taehyung suddenly jumped, children’s book sliding off his legs and snapping shut as the door to his left unlocked with a loud clack.  He slowly got up, picking the book back up taking it with him as he put it back on the shelf.  The door that unlocked started to whine.  The handle was rusty sounding as something from the outside started turning it.  

In a very logical fit of panic, Taehyung rushed and grabbed the thickest book he could find and held it at the ready.  Absolutely ready to whack whatever weirdo came into this room, knock them out (with luck), restrain them and then question where the hell he was. That, or a hit and run would work too.  He’d figure out which suggestion when the time came in a few moments.

The turning of the knob halted.  Stopped for so long that Taehyung thought whatever it was had gone away.  Lowering his book, he squinted his eyes at the door.  It was quiet, all he could hear was his breathing with the occasional nervous gulp of his.  

There was only but another beat of silence before chaos erupted.  

The door busted open, nearly ripping off it’s handles.  Taehyung, with a short, shocked scream, stumbled back as two things threw themselves into the room.  One was a woman, or rather half a woman.  Long brown hair cascaded down her head and her torso was decked in a red turtleneck.  Her face had a twisted demeanor etched into what would probably be a beautiful face otherwise.  From her waist down was nothing but a picture frame.  Her lower half didn’t exist and was replaced with a black void background and frame with gold edges.  It was like some horror effect that dragged around behind her everywhere she crawled. 

The second was an actual woman.  Legs, arms, chest and all.  Dressed in ruined overalls, a long sleeved white shirt with yellow stripes up the arms.  Tacky, torn brown boots on her feet as she stomped and kicked away at the woman in the frame.  She was wielding... a stick?  Or what looked like what may be part of what was once another picture frame.  End jagged and just asking for someone to get a nasty splinter.

The woman in the frame hissed at her like a dog as her clawed hands moved to drag her across the floor towards the actual woman’s legs.  The framed lady moved faster than Taehyung imagined was possible.  Dragging her half body across the floor and slithering with an absurd amount of grace like a snake.

The lady in the frame latched onto the woman’s leg causing her to in turn repeatedly kick at the frame’s head with her opposite foot.  The frame screamed as she was kicked against a bookshelf.  Books fell, toppling onto the frame as she screeched.  However, her insistent screeching silenced when the real woman took the jagged end of the broken frame she wielded and thrust it into the frames exposed and vulnerable head.

Red ‘paint’ erupted from the frame like a fountain before it became completely limp.  The woman shook the frame piece around, whipping it like a sword after a battle to remove the blood of the slain.  Then, the woman looked over her shoulder at Taehyung. He froze in place, his shoulders jumping at him finally being noticed.

Your eyes widened as they locked onto Taehyung’s. Shocked to see him there.  Your eyes were an unusually bright colored abyss with such a dull contrasting look in them.  He wasn’t sure if he could even see his reflection if he were standing right in front of you.  

You gasped lightly as if being hit with some sort of realization before turning to face him fully. Even if you were a good 10 feet from him he flinched. More than a little bit intimidated with you still holding your broken frame piece and witnessing you pretty much kill what he would label a Feminine Frame Monster.

“You’re the one everyone is looking for…” You muttered to herself.  There was a commotion beyond the door that was hanging pathetically onto its frame.  From down the hall, scraping and screeching were heard in a humming echo. You looked over your shoulder before you moved towards Taehyung, looking at him and grabbing his bicep with little hesitation. You yanked his arm to signal that you were clearly going to be ordering him around.

Taehyung felt like a doll being pulled around by a child.  You were shorter than he expected for someone who just took out a monster as he peered over your head, like a child standing as high as possible to peek out a window. Your grasp on him loosened as you moved to grab his wrist instead.  You pulled him slightly again, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in as he finally looked at you again.

“We need to go.  More of them are coming, and unless you want to end up painting fodder, you’ll follow me.”  He looked down at you as you finally noticed the rose peeking out of his jacket pocket.  You gasped, pointing at it with your other hand that whipped around the red stained frame piece.  “Hide that!” You seethed as Taehyung’s hand immediately shoved itself into his pocket to cover the rose before she began to run out of the room, Taehyung in tow; against his will, might he add.

The halls he was being dragged through were inconsistent and almost gave him a headache. First running through purple halls, then red filled with empty black picture frames.  Zooming through green halls that had arms shooting out of them, claws skimming over Taehyung’s jacket and reaching for his rose.  He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his chest to keep it safe from anyone- thing- trying to grab it.  Finally, your running came to a stop as you swung open a door before shoving him by his shoulder. You slammed the door securely shut before locked it.  

When the door was shut, Taehyung took a moment or two to look around as he tried to regain his breath.  

He was in a blue room now.  Two bookshelves with almost nothing on them and a small table next to a violet couch.  The table held a cerulean vase on it with water filled inside almost to the point it overflowed.  On the back wall was only one giant frame with a pure white puzzle glued one the inside of it.

“A milk puzzle?” He questioned more to himself than anything else. You sighed when it was quiet and then collapsed onto the blue carpeted floor.  Catching Taehyung’s attention, he panicked as he ran to your side, kneeling beside you and debating on whether or not he should put his hand on your shoulder. You panted and pushed your forehead against the door. Hair hiding your face as it hung, falling off your heaving shoulders. “Are you.. Alright?” Taehyung asked slowly- cautiously.

You only nodded as you finally caught your breath.  Sitting up straighter, taking one last breath to even your breathing before you finally looked up at Taehyung.  He knelt higher than your head level as he confirmed that he indeed couldn’t find his reflection in your eyes he stared into.

“You’re the intruder that everyone is looking for in the Gallery, aren’t you?” She questioned.  He blinked in confusion.  

“Intruder?”

“You don’t belong here and you need to get out of here as soon as you can.  This isn’t a place for someone like you.” Taehyung wasn’t understanding anything.  You held your hand out towards him, almost asking for something.  “Your rose. You still have it right?” He nodded as he showed the rose he still held cradled to his chest. He was thankful the vine was thornless, or else his palm would have been riddled with small, painful punctures. 

For some reason, he felt like his rose would be safe with you, so he easily handed it over. You took it and looked over it’s petals.  Admiring the shade of blue, you shifted her gaze to look from beautiful azure petals and into Taehyung’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” You asked.

“Taehyung,” he answered instinctively. You nodded at the sound of it, committing it to memory. “Yours?” 

“I’m Y/n,” you curtly told him as you lifted the rose back into the conversation.  “Do you know how important this rose is?” He shook his head.  You sighed as you moved to face him fully, sat relaxed on the floor. Lifting your arm to bring you opposite hand to touch one of the petals your fingertips dusted around a single soft petal.  You held it with delicacy before your grip changed and your nails gripped and plucked it off the stem.  

Taehyung gasped, a pain shooting through his chest as his hand flew up to grip his shirt. His one-knee kneeling position changed as both knees hit the carpet. 

It felt like his heart just skipped a beat and almost seemed to stall for a moment.  Shaken up, he wasn’t sure why, but it felt almost harder to breathe?  Air came more difficult to take and his energy felt zapped.  The one petal you had pulled off fluttering to the ground at his knees.

You plucked another one, the second petal fluttering to the floor to join the first.  More pain shot through him again as he found himself bracing himself forward, the hand that wasn’t clenching around the front of his shirt, falling in front of him to join his knees on the carpet.  It felt like someone was wrapping a rope around his chest and squeezing the life out of him.  Crushing his ribs and lungs suffocating him.

“What,”  he gasped, “are you doing... to me?” He sputtered as he coughed.  He heard you move before you were at his back, picking him up and bringing him weakly to his feet.  You practically dragged him to the couch, his feet dragging on the carpet the whole way before he fell into the cushions.  

As you stood over him, you pluck another two petals off and he let out small, silent coughs of protest. Whatever you were doing, he was ready for you to stop. He really thought he was dying. 

“Watch,” you told him as the dark bags under his eyes materialized.  You walked to the crystal water-filled vase.  Taking his rose that had lost four petals already, you placed the stem over top of the vase and dropped it inside.  The stem hit the water and immediately Taehyung’s eyes widened as he watched the petals regrow right before his eyes.  

The rose seemed to glow with a calming, almost reassuring, blue hue for but a moment before the pain in his body stopped.  The pangs of hurt disappeared from within his eyes as he let go of his chest and the pain faded.  It was like the pain was just a hallucination.  You slowly withdrew the rose from the vase and handed it back to him as you move to stand in front of him. He had moved from laying in pain on the couch to sitting himself up properly.

Taehyung gently took the rose from you.  “When the rose wilts,” you start.

“So too will I…” Taehyung finishes, unsure on how he knew how to finish the phrase. It was like it was just engraved on his tongue as he said it. The dawning realization that this flower was tied to his life grew into his mind as he spun it between his thumb and forefinger.  “But, I-I don’t understand.”  He shook his head.  You moved to sit beside him, ready to answer whatever questions he has.  “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in the gallery.”

“No,” he denied curtly, lifting his hand in denial.  “I was in the gallery.  Now, I’m here.”

“You were in the real gallery.  Somehow, you got sucked into this one.  The gallery you were in isn’t where you are now and frankly I don’t know how you got here.  This is a fabricated reality created from a man’s paintbrush.  A human shouldn’t be able to come here.” You got up and grabbed a small, face down picture frame from the top one of the small, dusty, bookshelves.  Bringing it back with you to the couch, you handed it to him.  

Taehyung recognized the man in the photo. “I know this artist. He died a long time ago.” Though his name escaped the young artist.  

“Guena. That’s the pen name he used in his profession.” You looked around at the small room.  “This room, and all the other rooms too.  Every painting and creature here was created by him and his desire to create souls for his non-living creations,” you told him. “But, things are different now. Everything is distorted,” you scowled.  

Just like the picture book he found.  The creations were given life by the hands of the creator then the creator died, leaving all of his ‘lives’ behind.  If that were so, then it would be no wonder why everything would begin to fall apart. It was akin to a circus without a Ring Master. Taehyung furrowed his brows before he placed the photo beside him on the cushions.

He looked up to you, into your dull eyes that somehow held the most breathtaking color.  

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“I’ve been here since the beginning and I will remain here until the end.”  

“Do you have a rose, like I do?” He felt like he knew the answer, but nonetheless less you shook your head.  He knew what he wanted to really ask, but he didn’t know how to ask it- what words should he use?  To you, who he had just met in the most fictional turn of events that he still can’t wrap his head around.  You were nothing like him and he knew that.

“I’m a painting, Taehyung.”

When you told him the truth he was already beginning to suspect, it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say he still internally panicked.  Something that looks so human, yet wasn’t at all.  You were nothing but brush strokes and shapes somehow given life.  You probably crawled straight out of a frame too.

You saw the emotion flash through his eyes and you were almost jealous of how his eyes could change.  Unlike yours that were stuck, his could tell you a whole story without the use of words.  Anyone in this place could tell immediately he was human because of those eyes. 

In respect to him and his unease, you made sure to keep your distance.  You truly weren’t a threat.  All you wanted was for him to get out, and to get out safely.  You’ve been watching your world fall apart since Guena died.  Every creature that was alive was losing their ‘mind’ and it was only a matter of time before it started to infect you too.  It was a disease that humans didn’t need to get involved in.

“I’m going to be your escort out of here.  With your lack of reaction when in the face of danger, you’d probably get yourself killed in an instant.”  You moved back to the door where you sat on the floor, you're back against the wood as you looked at him across the room on the couch.  “You rest for now and make sure to keep your rose safe with you.  This room is safe, so you don’t need to worry about something happening.”

Then, you stopped talking.  Taehyung almost felt guilty.  You were a painting, and you couldn’t show all the emotions that the could.  You weren’t actually real after all, so it was normal to assume you had a expressional limit.  He watched as you sat against the door completely silent and still with closed eyes.  He was unsure if you were really sleeping or if you even could.  

He looked at the rose in his hands.  This rose is so important and he didn’t know how to fathom what the hell was going on. It all happened too fast and he couldn’t begin to process it all. 

He missed Namjoon as he knew that he was probably still wandering around the real gallery looking for him. He wondered if Namjoon managed to get out since he wasn’t at the front or if the lights kicked back on and he was alright.  He lifted and looked at the photo of Guena beside him again.  

It was odd.  That was the man who somehow created this world and he was also the same painter who created Leia. The painting that gave the real gallery it’s name.  Taehyung never got to see that painting in the gallery- not that he was able too see much to begin with, and he’s not so sure he wanted to at the moment.  

Taehyung was a sympathetic and empathetic person- always had been and probably always will be.  The line between the two blurred in his case.  So, when he looked at you, he felt a sense of guilt as you kept away from him.  You spoke curtly, yet kindly.  You didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive and you seemed trustworthy enough; especially compared to that framed lady from before.  

You brought him here after all. A secluded room and you didn’t attack him or take his rose.  You plucked four petals off his rose, but then turned around and healed him. You even returned it, he knew it was all to prove the point of its importance.  You weren’t going to hurt him and he believed that with his whole heavy-beating heart.  

“Y/n? Are you sleeping?”

Your eyes remained closed, but you answered. “No. I can’t.  I’m a painting, remember?”

“Okay. Then, I have a question,” he said as you slid your eyes open.  Looking at him from your place by the door.  “That thing you killed?” Did you kill it? Could paintings die?  “What was it?”

“They’re called, The Ladies.”

“They? There’s more?” Taehyung’s voice slightly quivered at the idea of more hissing, hacking, floor-crawling, psycho half ladies being out there.  

You nodded.  “What you saw was only one of many Ladies.  She was a Lady in Red.  There are also Ladies in Green and Ladies in Blue.  They’re more common than most.  About as common as mannequins.”

“Excuse me? Mannequins?” You looked at him as a shiver ran up his body.  Goosebumps littered his covered skin.  “I fucking hate mannquins,” he seethed unconsciously to himself.  The look he put on his face was that of disgust and pure anguish and yet somehow twisted into an almost comical look.  You almost smirked at his foul language and facial cues.

Your smirk twisted and soon you burst out into laughter at his face that just seemed so comical to you.  A face someone like you couldn’t pull off because you were fake.  He looked at you as you laughed at him.  The tension that was in the air seemed to be shattered like a nail being driven into a pane of glass.  Soon, Taehyung was laughing at you laughing at him.  Your fit ended as you smiled and shook your head, calming down.  

Taehyung was more than happy to try and get a small nap in now that he knew that you weren’t completely devoid of emotion.  Someone, fake or not, who can laugh and smile like that surely wasn’t a bad person.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung was startled from his small rest when a tremor shook the room.  Panicking as he sat straight, rim-rod up, you were already on your feet and looking at the door.  You half expected something to charge inside, even when this place was supposed to be somewhere to rest up and be away from any sort of harm. Taehyung flung his legs off the sofa and stood up so quickly he had a wave of dizziness hit him as he held his head and staggered.  Shaking it off, he was at your side, standing just a step behind you.

“What the hell is that?” He lightly asked, like if he was too loud something would hear him.  You just flexed your arm, the hand around the hardened piece of art frame you kept continuing to wield tightening.  “It feels like the ground is moving,” he looked down at his feet.  Like the carpet beneath him was beating in microbursts.

“It’s a distortion wave.  This happens the weaker this world gets and that means it’s only going to get that much worse outside.” You looked at him. “I hope you have some strength in those arms of yours, because you might have to use it.” Taehyung hated the thought of violence, even if it was against figuratively inanimate objects that weren’t supposed to exist . They weren’t alive, but they were still able to die.  His toes curled at the thought of it. You saw the unease in his eyes before looked back at the door, rotating your wrist and twisting around your weapon. “Just stick close to me and run like your life depends on it.”

The lack of an additional ‘because it will’ was an approved choice on Taehyung’s ears.

You opened the door and outside it was a madhouse.  Even more paintings coming alive.  Some stuck in their frames as they clawed at the air and hissed.  Distorted in sharp and blurred strokes as they swiped.  Ghastly hands and objects plunged from walls and hung from the ceiling.  Mannequins moved far faster than previously and he could hear the hissing and scraping of frames on the floor from the Ladies as they drug themselves across the floor like lethal roaches.

You bolted out of the safe room, Taehyung hot on your heels as he stayed immediately behind you.  You dashed down halls, staying in the center away from the walls and anything reaching for you.  You kept Taehyung at your side, pulling him to and fro away from anything that could harm him if he got too close.  You rounded corners in rushed steps or slides as Taehyung occasionally grabbed the back of your overalls to keep you from skidding into the walls from your unstoppable momentum. You swung and hacked at anything that came close and kept them at bay the best you could with your frame.

Taehyung pointed ahead of you, a set of doors ahead.  

“Go into one of those!” He wasn’t sure where he got off telling you where to go. Especially since he was literally the worse qualified person to do so. You didn’t seem to argue back though, so he continued. “The, uh, the yellow one!” He yelled over the chaos.  You just looked back at him slightly over your shoulder, brows creased.

“Which one is the yellow one?!”  You shouted as he slightly stumbled before he grabbed your wrist and took off, running faster and ahead of you before he stopped at a door of brilliant yellow, pulled it open and pushed you inside, slamming it closed. The room was empty save for a single mirror on the back wall.  Thankfully, yellow seemed to be a pretty safe choice.

Taehyung could always trust yellow. 

“Y/n,” he called as he still held your wrist in his hand and you were hunched over.  You weren’t alive, but you seemed unwell.  “What’s wrong?” He looked at the skin under his hand that showed with the fabric of your long sleeve pushed up your wrist.  He gasped silently when he saw it’s complexion shift into a distortion of ugly, muddle colors before vanishing as quickly as it came.  “What was that?” He shook his head. “No, hold on.  Different question.  Can you not see color?”

“No, I can’t.” You stood back up, yanking your wrist out of his grip.  You looked at your skin as you hissed.  The distortion was starting to hit you and the stages would eventually progress into a problem- but he didn’t need to know that.  “I was painted as portrait by a lonely, selfish painters.  He didn’t think to give me the ability to see color so, I can’t see colors or tell them apart.” You shook your wrist out. “Is that a problem?” 

Taehyung jolted. You were clearly touchy on the topic. He cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh, well not really . I guess if you have me, I can point out colors for the both of us.  Why didn’t you tell me you were colorblind though?  It would’ve been pretty useful to know before we started running for our lives through some fucked-up haunted house reality check.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.” You sighed.  You had made it this far without relying on the colors you couldn’t tell apart.  Why would now be any different?  You couldn’t even see the color your body or clothes were- if they had color to them at all. For all you knew, you were all black and white and grey. You walked to the back wall and stood in front of the mirror there, frowning as Taehyung came up behind you.  He was as black and white as you were in your eyes.  

“So, you can’t see any color?” He touched his shirt, opened his jacket and pulled his headband.  He pulled your hair up dramatically and motioned to yourself as a whole in the mirrors reflection. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” you confirmed.  “I can conceive the idea of colors, but I’ve never had a proper need to see or tell them apart.  I know when something is a threat and I know when something is not. That’s all that really matters here.” Your indifference was something Taehyung- a painter- couldn’t comprehend.  What kind of painting can’t see their own colors? Wouldn’t that be painful or frustrating at the very least?

“Your shirt is yellow and white,” Taehyung spoke. You looked at his reflection with raised brows.  “Your overalls are faded and nearly ruined, but they’re dark blue and your boots are brown.  Your hair is really pretty and your eyes are too.” He described your outfit to you like you were a child, but he meant well. 

Just saying the color of your clothes didn’t help you grasp the concept of what it really looked like aside from the range of grey and white and black you saw through your eyes. “Maybe that doesn’t matter, but I thought you’d like to at least now,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” you told him quickly as you pulled at your sleeves, fixing and adjusting them to cover your arms properly again.  So, that light shade of grey- nearly white- was yellow? “I've never actually learned what color is what to my eyes,” you told him.  “It’s nice knowing at least one color,” you whispered more to yourself than anything.

So, it did bother you. Taehyung felt something swell like pride in his chest as he was acting the role of teacher.

If it were any other situation and if you were a person instead of a painting, he’d be glad to teach you all the colors he could. He felt it was his duty as an artist- freelance or not- to educate those about all the corners of art.  However, you weren’t real and he wasn’t at home in his studio, but in a haunted gallery of danger.  

Taehyung stepped away from you as he made his way back to the front of the room and the yellow door. He put his ear to the door, not hearing much of anything outside anymore. He hoped that you and he were able to give them the slip- as obvious as a tactic as that was. When he tried the doorknob, however, it didn not twist.  Jammed or locked, he knocked his forehead against the yellow wood in frustration.

“Of course,” he groaned before he turned to see you still standing in front of the mirror in the back of the room.  “Y/n, the door is locked. Unless we have another way out, we’re stuck in here.” He announced, making his way back to you as you seemed to finally break out of your own reflection and look around.  

“There’s got to be something we can trigger to open the door or another way out.  Just look around,” you told him.  You started wandering the room, but Taehyung only stood still, crippling his chin in thought and tapping his toes.  The room was completely empty, what could he possibly miss if nothing was in the room except a single, wall mounted mirror?

He thought of all the cheesy cliches like a floor tile trigger or a secret compartment in one of the four walls of ht boxed room.  However, he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to test out those ideas. 

Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, looking at his own reflection that scowled back towards him in thought.  He scurried away from the mirror in a haste as he yelped when the glass cracked.  Splitting down the center in crooked, ugly cracks and small splinters of glass falling from the mirror.  Your ear picked up on the continuous cracking of the mirror’s glass, unlike Taehyung and before he knew what was happening, you were yanking on his shirt and jacket collar. He choked slightly at you pulling him away from it completely as it shattered.

Bursting from the inside out, glass shot forward before raining down to the hard tile of the room.  What was left behind wasn’t the wall behind the mirror, but a matte black door with a sign hanging on the center of it. 

‘PASSAGE’

“Is that our way out?” He asked skeptically as he stood back up and brushed off his clothes of any stray shards that clung to him.  Looking back, the yellow door you both had rushed through had disappeared.  Nothing, but this black door and the walls remained.  He huffed. “Guess that answers that, huh. Wha- hey!” He called as you had already started opening the black door to enter it.  “What if it’s dangerous in there?!”

“There’s no other option,” you told him, pushing the door open before stepping into the same, thick blackness the door represented.  “Stay here if you’re so scared,” you sarcastically teased as you stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, the artist was hot on your tail inside.

The two of you walked through the black hall that stretched from the door you both entered, Taehyung behind you as he grew in more in nerves.  There were no lights and the light front he doorway was long gone behind his back.  He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and he felt like he was losing his mind.

He could only hear your footsteps, his footsteps and the sound of your sharpened frame weapon dragging across the ground that you had taken from your belt loop as soon as the darkness became thick enough to warrant a twinge worry.

The air in the ever stretching corridor became so thick it was hard to catch his breath as he moved to grab your wrist for guidance.  Then, giggling began echoing from every direction.  Bouncing off what might be a nearby walls and drilling directly into his head. Giggling that mimicked creepy doll sound effects in horror movies, only so much worse. You, unsurprisingly, weren’t phased by the verbal taunts- Taehyung, however, was.

You could feel the trembles in his fingers around the wrist of yours he held so tightly.  You twisted your wrist, freeing it from his grasp for a moment and you could physically feel his panic the moment his fingertips left your skin. He was quick to calm down when you shot your arm back and grabbed around his hand instead.

Taehyung only grew more and more nervous as the darkness didn’t seem to end.  There was nothing in front of him or behind him to act as a beacon of any sort of hope that it would eventually come to a brightly lit finish.  Not even your presence he knew was there was any comfort to him.  It felt like the darkness was ebbing away at his sanity and choking him. 

In the midst of his silent anxiety, he thought he felt something whisper along the back of his neck.  He let out a small, strangled noise of startled protest as he unconsciously ripped his hand away and out of yours.  His panic set in tenfold now that he had no idea where you were anymore.  

He reached out in front of him in a frenzied panic as he waved his arms around in front of himself like a crazy person. He was sure if he was in light or if someone could see him, they’d think him completely bat-shit insane.  No matter where he reached or how hard he searched, he couldn’t find you. He couldn’t even hear you anymore.

Your footsteps were gone along with the frame dragging and he couldn’t hear anything aside from his own hiccuped gasps of air.  A horrible humming filled his ears and he quickly brought his palms up to the sides of his head, covering his ears to try and block out the noise.  It only seemed to intensify though, as if he had cupped around the humming and shoved it directly against his eardrums.

His knees wobbled and his footing staggered before his knees finally hit the ground.  The hard ground that was below his feet changed the moment his knees collided with it.  

Water was running along the hard ground that now felt like tile. If he ran his fingers along the floor, he would be able to trace the groves of cement and glue holding the pieces of breakable flooring together. He wasn’t able to properly process it in the overwhelming state of mind he was currently becoming more and more trapped in.  

The water that seeped into his pants drew higher and higher before engulfing his knees, thighs and eventually coming to reach his waist. His hands stayed covered over his ears as he shuttered and shook his head back and forth- trying to chalk it all up as another nightmare.  He’d wake up on another couch any moment in a room that you had taken him too.  This was just his mind playing trick on him- wasn’t it? 

The humming grew louder and louder before it went completely silent. The shift in noise to nothing was too sudden; uncomfortably sudden.  He should be relieved that the horrible, horrible sound that drilled into his head had stopped, but he was only accompanied by the newfound silence with a chill running up his spine and staying in the base of his neck .

Taehyung couldn’t move.  He shook and trembled, waist deep in cold water.

Was this what insanity felt like? Was he really losing his mind?

Then he remembered.  He was finally able to move again when he remembered his rose.  The flower that was somehow keeping him up and kicking. He moved his hands from his ears and began to frantically pat around his body.  His chest, his hips and thighs. In and out of pockets. He couldn’t find it.  He thought he had already reached his maximum panic level, but he was oh so wrong.  

He lost his rose and he felt like he was near his breaking point.  He hated that it affected him so much in both a mental and physical sense. Taehyung had normally defined himself as a more or less tough person to break down in more cases. 

He hardly had time to adjust to the life threatening new world he found himself in with art coming to life to kill him. Not to mention that his life was tied to a blue flower and he was dependent on a painting for safety.  

Taehyung was literally walking through his own personal nightmare. Who wouldn’t start losing their marbles after all that? 

His ducked down head shot up when he thought he heard something drop into the flooded flooring. He swore he heard the water ripple as it sounded like someone was walking, or dragging their feet through the water.  The sound of moving water echoed and he couldn’t pinpoint from which direction whatever was around him was moving.  Then the water pushed up his legs like something pushed the water towards him and he froze again.

He felt a breath blow against his forehead, his hair blowing in small, annoying strands that tickled his eyebrows and forehead. Whatever was wading in the water beforehand, was now right in front of him.

His mouth opened like he was going to scream, but nothing came out before the room erupted in bright lights.  He flinched under the extreme difference, the humming coming back to drill into his skull as fluorescent lights lined the ceiling above him.

When he was able to pry his eyes open, they glued themselves open at the sight of the creature in front of him.  It was… he couldn’t even begin to explain what it was.  

It looked like it had the basic shape of a person, but the limbs were far too long and lanky and it was engulfed in a thick looking, black tar that oozed and dripped from it’s appendages.  It’s head was also shaped like a humans, but turned completely sideways. The side of it’s head parallel with the floor as that same, thick blackness dripped from it’s chin that pointed directly to the left.  The mouth was nothing but a white circle in the middle of its face with black dripping between it’s ‘lips’ like jail bars.  

Whatever it was, it was horribly ugly and Taehyung thought his mind was distorting. The space around the creature seemed crackly- like tv static.  

The artist couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t flee.  He couldn’t even scream.  But it could. It could move, it could groan and moan, it could scream.  And it did.  

The mouth opened further into an elongated oval and a set of eyes showed themselves in small, crescents with the ends pointing to the left towards their chin on their crooked head.  The shrill shriek it let out made Taehyung’s bones rattle under his skin, like someone had just run a xylophone stick across his ribs.

It had brought it’s long, thin, dripping arms up as it seemed to ready lunge at the young, fear-stricken artist.  It screeched once more before it began to lunge, but it was immediately stopped in it’s tracks before it could do any sort of physical harm.  

The screech was cut short, as the head- in fact- the entire torso of the creature was pushed down by something.  It fell face first into the water at Taehyung’s knees as a long, golden strip of a picture frame stuck out of the back of it’s head.  

Red paint leaked out of the creatures head as it lay still and motionless in the water, dying the flooded area a shade of crystal pink. The smell wasn’t what he expected- what he expected to smell like iron, blood and death instead smelt of a flower shop, honey and lemonade.  The monster with a frame in the back of it’s head smelt like summer. 

Was it… dead?

Then he heard more footsteps, however with the lights on and eyes properly adjusted now, he could see exactly where they were coming from and who.  It turns out that somehow he had made it into a room- a small cube area that had no windows and only one door that was now thrown open.  Through that door, your body was slouched against the frame out of breath- once again ironic since you weren’t alive- and dripping blue drops of paint from your chin.

He was speechless- no longer from fear, but from shock.  

You wadded through the pink water to stand in front of him.  You turned to the creature you had just taken down by hurling your frame piece at it and quickly pulled the frame out.  Red spurt from the wound like a pathetic, paint-filled fountain. Before long, it was simply oozing and rolling off the skull of the creature into the water before it started to completely fade away like ash.

You looked back to Taehyung who had disappeared previously from your grasp and you knelt in front of him. Waving your hand in front of his face, he didn’t respond.  You looked down and around him to see his hand stuck on the inside of his jacket- like he had stopped looking for something mid-search.  

“Tae-”

“Rose,” he whispered urgently, interrupting you.  You gently dug into the small pouch you had on your side- where you got that, he wasn’t sure- and before a moment longer passed, blue petals were shown in his line of sight.  That seemed to finally start to snap him out of it.  “That’s my,” he whispered, the rest of his words dying on his tongue.

“You dropped it earlier when you let go of my hand,” you told him.  You gently took his hand from the inside of his jacket and placed the flower delicately inside his palm.  “You need to take better care of that if you want to get out of here.”

One, small tear fell from his eye before he was throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you towards him.  Your face fell into his shoulder as you felt him shake around you. You raised your arms tentatively and started to pat at his back awkwardly.  

“Don’t worry,” you shushed, as you stared at the back wall. You could hear the ashy pieces of the creature disengerate behind your back as his tremors quelled to shivers and soon he was still and his breath wasn’t ragged anymore.  He had calmed himself down as he squeezed you against his chest.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

-x-x-x-

Once Taehyung was able to move again without shaking or fearing for his safety and he had properly calmed down, you led him out of the room he had been trapped in.  Going down another long hall with nothing but lights lining the walls, he briefly stopped at a plaque on the wall next to another door.  This door wasn’t colorful or odd- it looked so ordinary it stood out among the bright purple hall he stood in.

“Gallery ahead,” he muttered, reading aloud as the sighed at the plaque that had an arrow pointing ahead beyond the door.  

Opening the door, there was no noise and all was quiet.  Taehyung followed you as he looked around.  

True to the plaque, it really was just another portion of the gallery.  Proper paintings on the walls with names below it, statues sectioned off with rope and dividers, mantles with busts- it too looked like an authentic, ordinary gallery.  The door you both passed through shut with a soft click as he looked behind at it still jumpy from earlier on. He was thankful it didn’t slam at least.

The floors were tile and shining like they had just been cleaned and waxed.  The walls were covered in a boring, but oddly suiting wallpaper fit for an aged art gallery while chandeliers hung along the ceiling lighting the place in a soft, glowing light.

“This is a nice break from the rest of the place,” Taehyung told you, catching up to your back as you were making your way through the place.  He came to walk beside you, looking at your eyes that couldn’t see any color.

“It is a section of the world that hasn’t been touched too badly by the distortion. If anything is alive here, it shouldn’t be a threat,” you assured him.  The fact you had put away your makeshift weapon put him further at ease.  He looked back and forth at the walls lined with art.  

This was what he was hoping to experience coming into the real gallery today.

Just browsing around to try and spark something in him to create something new.  To inspire him- not threatening his very life after sucking him into an actual nightmare world. He briefly jumped when a painting of a black cat blinked before it stretched and jumped right out of it’s canvas. He meowed up at him as he rubbed against his leg before scampering off somewhere else.  His padding paw steps disappearing down the hall.

Taehyung almost smiled at that.

The two of you walked in silence, the only sound in the gallery was the sound of both of your footsteps and the occasional sound of harmless art brought to life.  Taehyung stared at your back as you walked ahead of him and he began to wonder.  He wondered about a lot.

He wondered what would happen to you when he managed to get out of this place.  What would happen if he tried to maybe take you with him? Could you survive outside this place since you weren’t really born?  Would this gallery even exist when he leaves it or would it cease to be?

He stopped in his tracks he he caught himself. Why was he even thinking about taking you with him? 

The young artist was ripped from his thoughts when he saw your body jerk forward before you were staggering on your feet then falling to your knees on the tiled floors of the peaceful part of the gallery.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he jogged up behind you.  He placed his hand on the middle of your back as he knelt beside you and dipped his head down to try and catch a glimpse of your face. “Y/n, hey!” He called as your body shook and heaved like you were a living breathing person in the midst of a breathing fit.  You were a painting with a soul, but not really alive so did you breathe? He found himself asking that to himself way too often.  

He shook his head- that wasn’t the thought he needed to overthink right now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tried coaxing you.

You just shook your hand towards him; whether to shut him up or shoo him away he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t move from your side regardless.  When your arm raised, he saw beneath your sleeve a sort of discoloration. It was just like what he saw earlier in the mirror room.  

He took your wrist in his hand as he pushed your sleeve up when you suddenly fell into him. He jolted as he rolled you to lay on your side- your head lolling off in a way that looked uncomfortable with your shoulder pushing into the ground. He lifted your head, putting it on his leg to try and help you at least a bit.  

You twitched as he examined your skin. It looked like your arm was covered in a horrific bruise.  Ugly splotches of black, blue, purples, greens and yellows engulfed your arm like a tattoo sleeve gone horribly wrong. His brows dipped as he looked at the rest of your arm before he looked at the other.  It was the same thing, but not nearly as severe in terms of color and blotches.  It was like it was spreading.  

“What the hell?” He murmured as you seemed to be calming down.  You pushed yourself of his leg to lay on your back on the ground as your chest stopped heaving and you stopped twitching.  You closed your eyes, focusing on coming back down from whatever attack had ailed you and before too much longer, you were forcing yourself to sit up again. 

Taehyung sat beside you, slowly drawing his hand back and away from you as you pushed your sleeve back down to cover your ruined skin.  He narrowed his eyes at you as you looked back at him.  For someone who wasn’t really alive, you seemed to have bags under your eyes.  Something was straining you and you weren’t telling him about it.

“So?” He asked with a sharp tone as you just returned his word with a sigh as an answer.  He wanted an explanation and he wanted it sooner rather than later.

“It’s not-”

“Tell me or I’m gonna annoy you continuously until you give in. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You ticked your eyebrow up at him. “You’re threatening me? You realized I’m the one who’s been taking down everything that has attacked us so far, right?”

“It’s not a threat,” he promised as he crossed his arms sitting on the floor. He looked like a child.  In the end you let out another defeated sigh. There would be no point in arguing with him.  He’d probably run you in verbal circles until he got his way anyway.

“You know how the rest of the gallery is corrupted, you’ve seen it. Everything in this world that is art is affected.” You grabbed the sleeve of your arm as you sat more comfortably.  “Just because I’m fighting against it now, doesn’t mean I’m uneffected.  It’s a distortion that affects the arts- good or bad- and we can’t do anything about it. I’m just stubborn.”

Taehyung sat for a moment before opening his mouth again.

“So, you’re going to turn bad too?” He asked timidly.

“It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”

“That’s crazy,” he whispered to the floors when his chin dipped down.  He groaned as he brought his hand up to ruffle his lightly colored hair.  You had been protecting him ever since you found him and now there’s a chance you could turn against him too? That was just crazy. You wouldn’t just turn on him like that, right? It’d be gradual and not just flipping a switch from sane to insane, right?

He was pulled from his thoughts again when you moved to stand and he quickly mirrored your actions to stand in front of you.  His arms hovered around your waist and back in order to catch you if you happened to fall again.

“Whatever happens, we just need to get you out of here as soon as possible.  If we find the exit quickly, we can get you out before I completely lose it.” You turned, ready to start walking off again to explore further when Taehyung shot his hand out and caught your arm.

“Wait!” He shouted, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the white walls adorned with art that wasn’t malicious.  “Will you be okay?” He asked even though he really knew the answer.  You had just told him that you were going to eventually turn from who you are now to someone else- one way or the other.

You smiled at him, trying your best to reassure him but didn’t offer him a verbal answer.  You slowly pulled his hand off you before you were telling him to follow you.  His arm dropped back to his side slowly as he looked at your back with sad eyes.  

He didn't know what hurt worse; the fact that you basically just told him ‘no’ or the fact that you didn’t say anything for him to understand because even if your eyes are just strokes of paint, they held so much in them and it twisted his gut.  

Taehyung wasn’t very fond of the idea that he had to leave the peaceful atmosphere of the white gallery and go back out into the one that actively tried to kill him.  His rose was safe in the zipped pocket inside his jacket as opposed to the outside pockets at his sides. He watched before he began to follow you once again.  

The drastic difference between the white, bright gallery and the dark, dim, purple backlight one just from passing through a door still through him for a loop each time he went through another passageway.  He stopped trying to guess what kind of room he’d be going into, because he’d probably guess wrong every time if he did. 

You stayed on guard with your picture frame piece and he stood beside you-more ready to throw down with a sculpture than before- even if he still didn’t want to. He’d tell you what colors were where and lead you in directions if you asked if a certain color was around.  

He briefly wondered how you managed to get around before he got there with your inability to see color, but then he stopped thinking about it because if you just went into a room that was filled with a problem- you probably just got rid of it.  You were more than capable, you’ve proved that more than enough by this point.

“Taehyung,” you called from ahead of him. He had been so lost in thought his steps had slowed down and he was further back away from you than he knew.  “Don’t lag behind.”

“Oh, right,” he called before he was jogging back to your side.  Following you through a doorway, he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been to see a room that was dark with only a trunk inside of it.  Walking in, you stepped up to it before you tapped it with your frame piece to see if something was inside.  

There was only silence before the lid of it burst open.  

You jolted, stepping in front of Taehyung as he raised his hand instinctively to maybe try and throw a punch at whatever might leap out of it, but nothing came out.  The lid bounced against the back of the trunks frame. The inside of it looked like a pink cloud- it wasn’t empty, just unsettlingly pink.  It was like cotton candy or maybe something thicker like thread that could trap you if you touched it.

“What-,” you started before you were yelping into direct fight or flight.  The still pinkness in the trunk jolted before it shot out like sentient strings and separated into long, thick arms of darkened red that wrapped around you and Taehyung’s bodies.  

Your backs were forced together and to your misfortune, your frame was knocked from your hand and clattered to the ground.  The thick strands of red wrapped tightly around your midsections and squeezed as it entangled around your legs and arms and even around your forehead to keep you completely still. Immobilizing the two of you, it then started to slowly reel you in.  

Your feet dragged across the ground and your toes lifted up and off the ground at some point as Taehyung was left to keep fumbling over his own feet.  He wouldn’t fall no matter how tangled his feet got since he was bound and tied so tightly.

The pair of you were stopped in front of the trunk that seemed to bulge in size- like it was taking into account the size of two people before you were swallowed into the cloud of pink turned red.  The sound of the trunks lid slammed above you both boomed like thunder before you were falling.  

It felt weightless, but you could feel the wind rushing past you as you were sure you were coming closer to hitting the ground.  

It was pitch black all around, but you felt Taehyung reach for you- now freed from the strands of red thread that had encased you both. You felt him wrap his arms around your shoulders from in front of you.  His chest pushed against yours before his weight overcame your own and he was falling first in front of you.

The fall wasn’t long and it didn’t feel like enough to particularly kill a person, but when the two of you hit the ground with Taehyung bracing the fall you were quick to shoot up from his chest as he groaned laying on his back.  

“Are you stupid?!” You scolded as he winced both from your shrieks and the pain of the fall. He sat up, rubbing his back as he just weakly laughed.  

“Yeah, so?” Your eye twitched at his lame excuse for a joke at a time like this. As he recovered from his fall and came back to his senses that weren’t cloaked in sensitive fall-stricken shock, you looked around to where exactly you two fell.  

It looked like you were pulled into a child’s coloring book.  Scratchy, uneven lines of what looked to be crayon or oil chalks were used to make up houses, roads and not too far from you both was a mass of uneven, patchy blue chalk that you assumed was a lake of sorts from its size.  It was dark, but it was lit with small patchy lights lining walls or suspending overhead like floating light bulbs.

You made it to your feet after you helped Taehyung, grabbing his hand and offering your shoulder for him to lean on.  He graciously took it and you were quick to ask if his rose was alright.  He dug it out of the inside pocket of his jacket and showed it to you.  A petal or two were missing, but you assumed it was caused from the fall.  

No wonder he hurt so much, you mentally noted with an eye roll; his rose was damaged.  

You looked around and peered over the chalked created houses.  Maybe if you investigated inside one of them, you’d find a vase for him to use to restore his rose petals.  You hiked his arm over your shoulder for a more firm grasp on his body's weight on you.

“Alright, first things first,” you started as you got his attention. “We need to find a vase with water to get your rose to grow.  That should take the pain away.” He muttered in agreement before both of you walked- ambled- off.  

Walking with a body hanging off you was a lot harder than you initially though it would be.  He would walk the best he could, but the injury and loss of his petals were obviously affecting him more than he was willing to let on. 

The first house you both entered was a small one outlined in pink chalk and inside was just one big open room with a drawn, blue couch, a table and a coat rack.  On the table was a vase, but it was empty.  If it wasn’t all black and white to you, maybe you would have found the place almost charming in it’s own way- but it was just dull.

You quickly moved Taehyung to the couch and told him to stay put.  Taking the vase you left the house and quickly moved down the chalked, dirt road down the lake you saw.  Maybe you could put some of the fake water into the vase and just somehow make it work, who knows.

Making it to the lake, you knelt and dipped the vase into the mass of blue as it filled the vase.  Your arm twitched before it was jerked and convulsed with it’s own corruption again and the vase slipped from your fingers for just a moment- but that moment was enough to lose it in the chalky blue mass of scribbles.  

Without much thought, you dove into the water, quickly snatched it back and as fast as possible swam and pulled yourself out of the mass before anything that could possibly be in the lake even thought about grabbing you.  

You huffed in annoyance as your clothes were dusted with chalk and even though it wasn’t real water- you felt damp.  You shook out your sleeves before you got to your feet and went back to Taehyung who was waiting in the house you left him laying on the couch with heavy breaths.

When he saw you, his eyebrow quirked.

“What’re you covered in? Dust?” He asked as you just shook your head, kneeling at the couch side and replacing the vase filled with vibrant blue on the table again.  

“Forget about it. Give me your rose, please.” your hand was outstretched and waiting as he quickly pulled it out and handed it to you. You hesitantly placed the stem into the water and let it sink as the blooms of the petals rested against the rim of the vase.  You heard Taehyung sigh as if his pain was floating away and to your relief, two petals grew once again. “Thank goodness that actually worked,” you sighed.

Taehyung chuckled beside you. “Yeah, no kidding.  That was all assumption- if that had taken more petals off, I think I would’ve passed out or something.”

“You mangled to take four petals of damager before,” you told him. “Besides, you weren’t that injured,” you told him as you took the rose back out of the vase and handed it to him to replace in his jacket. “You just don’t know how to take a fall.”

“Excuse me,” he scoffed in disbelief. “Who was the one who took the brunt of that fall, huh?” He sat up and crossed his arms like a child pouting. “A thank you would be nice to hear, you know.”

Your lips tilted in a smile as you moved to stand up and stretched your arms across your chest.  You felt helpless without your frame piece that you had lost before you wound up here with the young, human artist.  Looking at him like this, you wouldn’t think he’d be in as much danger as he is.  He was in a whole different dimension with enemies at his back almost constantly, but here he was pouting for a ‘thank you’.  You chuckled.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you told him. You weren’t sure if it was the dim lights or maybe your vision going because of your own distorting body, but you thought you saw the blank shade of his skin to your eyes darken.  Like color had possibly bloomed over his cheeks.

He cleared his throat before you could ask and he was getting up off the couch, walking to the door of the house. He was ready to leave, but stopped short.  You came up behind him and opened your mouth to ask him what the problem was when he spun around and shushed you.  He pushed you back and led you behind the couch, crouching down and covering you with himself as you both hid.

You had no idea what he thought he heard, but you kept quiet before you heard the door of the house you both were in squeak open.  You looked at Taehyung as he looked up, focusing on listening for any indication of someone coming closer to your hiding place.  

You racked your brain trying to think of what or who could be following you both.  Had someone been inside the trunk before you and had seen you at the lake? You weren’t sure.  You heard them pad into the house before they stopped and then a crash sounded through the walls of the room. The footsteps then walked back out of the room and the door slammed shut.  

Taehyung and you stared at each other, still remaining silent for a few more moments before determining you were safe. He let out a breath as he peeked over the couch first and scanned the room.  There was no one.  

“It’s clear,” he whispered as he stood up and moved away from you as you stood up next to him.  Your brows dipped as you saw the vase you had just used to heal Taehyung’s rose shattered into pieces with splashes of blue- grey to your eyes- dusted around the table top and blew onto the floor.  

You looked at the door with a narrowed gaze.  Just what was that? Could something you didn’t know about be wandering around? Then again, even you didn’t know everything there is to know about this gallery. 

“I think we need to hurry,” you muttered, Taehyung quickly agreed as you both scurried out of the house.  The two of you walked along the dusty, chalk paths before you were stepping up a set of stairs back into a proper gallery. It led to a section that you recognized. You started walking with ease, knowing what was where in this section and Taehyung took notice of that.  

“Do you know where we are? I mean, you’ve known a good part of where we’ve been, but I mean-”

“This is my section of the gallery. My frame is hanging around here, so yes I know it.” You told him, interrupting his rambling for an answer to his question.

“Your frame?”

“Yes. You know I’m just a painting. The frame I was placed in and the frame I came out of is around here.”

“Can I see it?” He asked without much thinking before you stopped and turned to him.  He almost slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else without a filter before you turned on your heel and started off around a corner. “Y/n! Wait!”

“You wanted to see my frame, didn’t you?” You popped your head back around the corner to motion him to follow after you and he did so.  He trailed you- just as he had been- and eventually you took him to a deadend hall.  At the end of it, on the wall facing the rest of the narrow corridor, was an empty frame. “This is it,” you told him, motioning to it with as little care as you would as if you were showing off a bag of dog food.

The frame was silver and engraved with all sorts of weaves across it.  It was sturdy and not undamaged.  The glass of the frame was broken; however it must’ve been broken from the inside if the evidence of the glass at his feet was anything to go by. You must have burst from the inside out and created the glass mess in front of it.  The plaque under the frame read ‘Leia’ as the young artist looked back to you with wide eyes.

“You’re Leia?” He asked. At the discovery he had a pang of small guilt in his stomach from thinking earlier on that he didn’t even want to see the painting since the rest of the gallery was out for his blood. You blinked at him as you nodded simply.

“That was my title when I was created, but I was given a new name because I was granted a soul and free will within this dimension.” You crossed your arms. “Why does it matter what my art piece name is?”

“It's just that the gallery I came from was named after you,” he told you. “I guess I just never expected you to be the last piece of art from someone- not that it’s a bad thing!” He defended at the unimpressed look in your painted eyes. “It was the discovery of that painting that gave my gallery the name it has. You’re like the main centerpiece of everything.”

You looked blankly at your empty frame.  

“I doubt that the ‘Leia’ in the real gallery is like me. I may be ‘Leia’, but I’m more Y/n. It sounds ridiculous, but that painting isn’t me.” You softly traced the silver frame with your fingers before you were turning around again. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. No more detours.”

Taehyung was quick to chase after you but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to you.  He wanted to talk to fill the silence that gaped between the two of you.  Taehyung kept telling himself that he had no reason to try and figure you out, you were a painting for God’s sake.  What could he possibly want to know?

Other than everything.

He wondered about a great many things and couldn’t help but overthink what you may or may not have been through.  How did you feel about this world? Did you consider it home or maybe a sort of prison you were unfortunately born into. How did this world look to your colorless eyes? Just how did it feel being a painting exactly? 

When you were ‘born’ and thrust into a world that was already starting to collapse, how did you survive? Did you fight from the beginning, or not? He wanted to ask all these questions, but he knew that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place to ask anyway- this world isn’t his and you weren’t even human.

Taehyung followed behind you as a feeling in his gut started to bloom. He raised his hand to his stomach and palmed it through his shirt as his steps slowed and he watched you ever so slowly get further ahead of him.  He felt like he couldn’t do this without answers.  So, he acted idiotically and moronically and selfishly.  

Without you realizing, you got separated from Taehyung once again- only this time on purpose.  The next time you turned around to check on why he was so silent, you stopped in your tracks not seeing him around you.  

“Dammit,” you seethed.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had back tracked all the way to your empty portrait frame.  He stood in front of it once more as his fingers traced the letters of your plaque. The letters spelling out ‘Leia’ in fine script before he was tracing the frame itself.

He felt selfish for wanting to know about you- a painting- and keeping himself here in a world that actively tried to kill him longer than he needed to be. He scoffed at himself, his mind remembering how he had judged the artist in the book he had read before and how the artist got attached to something like a painting. 

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” he chided to himself.  

He needed to go home and although he understood that, he wanted to know more about the living painting that had been protecting him up until this point.  The same painting who was slowly getting infected with some weird, paint disease that could turn you against him at the drop of a pen.

He knew he was pressed for time. Time was precious, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were too.

Taehyung inspected the black emptiness of the frame that you had come from and reached his hand out.  His hand jerked back when the pads of his fingers weren’t met with the sturdy wall that the frame hung on.  Instead, the blackness encased by the silver frame rippled like murky water.  It was like a pool of ink as he reached out to it again and started to sink his hand into it further.

He wondered how deep that ink went, how far could he reach inside before it stopped him.  Could he be able to submerge himself fully into it, or maybe crawl into the frame like a painting himself.  

“But then, what would that accomplish?” He questioned himself with a half-sarcastic attitude. However, even if he knew it was more than likely fruitless, he started to climb inside anyways.  The frame was big, so he had no problem with grabbing the edges of the frame, lifting his leg over the bottom ledge of it and heaving himself inside the blackness.  

He braced himself, feeling like it would feel like that monster from before that encased him in terror as it threatened his very life.  However, this blackness wasn’t like before.  It was dark and felt endless, but it lacked the deep pit of dread that the monster had.  It felt like something- but he couldn’t place exactly what.

Loneliness maybe? Or perhaps a bittersweet sort of feeling; like being free, yet not being as free as a true human being.  He walked around aimlessly in the blackness, feeling less and less like he was walking on the floor.  He started feeling weightless, like he was walking on air.

There was clearly no end where he was, and he wasn’t so sure if he really wanted there to be.  A light at the end of the tunnel? That wouldn’t apply in this situation and he knew that perfectly well. Or, he thought that would be the case.  From behind him, he started to feel something close by, like the feeling of someone standing directly behind your back.

Whirling around, he saw nothing, felt no one and squinted his eyes as his ears started to pick up on some noise around. It sounded like it was echoing around from every direction, but he was still able to follow it- maybe it was because wherever he was in your frame was a directionless void.

It was nowhere and everywhere all at once.  

As he walked, the blackness started to slowly light up from a greyscale and before long he was standing in a room.  Like, a real room, but in this room he couldn’t touch anything.  He was in a studio- covered in easels, paints, canvases, stains and tarps and cloth and everything in between.  

However, if he even tried to touch something, his hand would just phase right through the object he wanted to grasp. He walked around the studio before the door to the room opened and hobbled in was an older man whose face he couldn’t see.  His face wasn’t even that, it was just black scribbles where the features should have been.  Static echoed around the room as he assumed that the old man was trying to speak, but the words didn’t reach Taehyung’s ears.  

He walked to an easel that was covered with a white cloth before he set up his area and sat on a stool.  He cleaned up some brushes, cleaned his palette and rearranged his paints to suit his needs and wants.

Taehyung watched in silence as the old man began to paint and even though there was clearly a passing of some sort of warped time, in the moment it all felt timeless.  The end result was none other than your own portrait.  He shouldn’t have been shocked to see your spitting image in your portrait, but he couldn’t help it.  

Then the old man just turned his back, his fake face seemingly looking right at the young artist before he pointed at you.  More specifically, he pointed to the white space of your canvas and Taehyung could have sworn he saw it ripple like water.  

The setting of the studio began to suddenly fade out as he started hearing murmuring in the distance echoing around him.  It sounded unbearably loud as he covered his ears and the studio brushed away in flakes like eraser debris.  

“-yung! -hyung!” He felt like his head was about to burst as he felt something grab the back of his jacket and yank him backward.  He was then tumbling out of your frame, out of the void and onto the floor of the demented gallery. “Taehyung!” Someone shouted his name above him as his eyes were blurry and he rubbed at them to try and get them to regain their focus.  He blinked as his brows shot up when his eyes shot open wide.

“Namjoon?” There, above him, hovered his best friend. Taehyung quickly whipped around to his stomach before pushing off the ground and looking up to the blog journalist.  “What? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Taehyung was sure he was the only one who happened to fall into this sketched out dangerous gallery. Namjoon wasn’t even where he was left when Taehyung looked for him. He looked his friend over.

“How have you made it this far?” Taehyung was impressed. Aside from the disheveled state of his clothes with wrinkles and small beads of sweat on his brow and temple, he seemed fine.  

“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.” Namjoon groaned as he pulled the artist off the floor and straightened out his jacket, brushing him off. “I’ve been running around like crazy for hours looking for you.”

Taehyung was shocked and honestly glad to see a familiar face.  Then you came to mind.  He wondered if you were looking for him after he just decided to pull that disappearing act on you.  He felt guilty about it now that his actions settled in. For all he knew, you thought he got himself caught in another dangerous situation when he was really as safe as he could be in the moment. 

“Did you happen to pass by a girl? Like, our age but wearing outdated clothing.”

“Someone else? No, I didn’t. Is someone else here?”

Taehyung shook his head.  “No, she’s not a person, she’s a painting and- argh forget it!  It’s a long story and from the look you’re giving me, you don’t believe me in the first place.”

“How hard did you hit your head when I pulled you out of that thing?” Namjoon asked as he used his thumb to lazily point to your empty frame.  Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed at his temples.  He remembered the way his head spun when Namjoon started calling him before he was dragged out by the man.  His head had pounded just like how it did when he was in the room with the tar monster from earlier. 

He tried thinking back to the man in the studio he witness and tried putting together anything that could be used as a clue on how to get home. He seemed to obviously be pointing to something, something Taehyung couldn’t help but feel was important.  “Whatever you saw,” Namjoon called his attention, “forget it.  It’s probably a trap or something.  You can’t trust the things here.”

“Not everything is dangerous,” Taehyung countered with you in mind.  “Y/n isn’t.”

Namjoon sighed annoyed. “You don’t know that. You said ‘she’ was a painting, right? You can’t trust something like that thing.”

“Don’t call her a thing,” Taehyung growled.  “She’s kept me safe up until this point. Like it or not, I trust her. We need to find her before we get attacked by something.”

“Taehyung-”

“I’m not arguing about this.  Finding Y/n takes first priority.” Normally, Taehyung was more than obedient when it came to Namjoon.  Not only was he older, but the sense of leadership the older held made it easy to listen.  However, Taehyung didn’t feel that air of ‘need to follow’ right now around him.  

“What about leaving? What about that priority?”

“She can help us. Y/n comes first,” he finalized before he was turning on his heel and going off into the direction he had fled from your side.  Namjoon clicked his tongue as he reluctantly followed behind.

Logically, even Taehyung knew that you’d probably be agitated for prioritizing your location over his freedom and escape out of this place.  But, the nagging in his head didn’t let him argue the topic, even with himself.  He wasn’t going to just find a way to escape and not tell you goodbye at the very least.  

You had done nothing but help and protect him, the least he could do was tell you thank you properly before he left.  It was the right thing to do, even if a little bit foolish.  He knew that.

To his luck, it didn’t take nearly all that long for him to catch a glimpse of you rushing around a corner.  You were jogging around, looking to and fro for something- he knew it was him- and he was quick to start shouting at you with his arm raised in the dark halls.  Namjoon stood behind his shoulder, still unhappy.

“Y/n!” He watched your head whip around as you started running towards him.  As you didn’t slow down in your approach, the closer you got the more nervous he became before you skit to an abrupt halt at his toes and got up into his face, grabbing his jacket collar.

“Stop going off on your own! Are you stupid or do you want to get attacked again that badly, huh?!” You shouted in rightful anger as he felt sweat gather on his neck.  He raised his hands in defense as he slightly pushed your shoulders down to gain some distance away from your rage.  

“I know, I shouldn’t have run off.” You slowly released his jacket. “That was my bad and I apologize, but,” he stepped away from you and twisted to show Namjoon. “I managed to find my friend.  He was in the gallery with me before I got here. This is Namjoon.”

Taehyung introduced the two of you as you just stared at the man and he stared back in a silent competition that Taehyung definitely picked up on.  Clearly, there wasn’t much hope of friendship on the horizon- but he figured you’d cooperate with him so that they could get out safely.  You were that kind of person- cooperative if not a bit on the stubborn side.

“You found him, huh? Where?”

“Oh, I went back to your frame and he was there.” Taehyung easily answered, deciding to keep the fact that he crawled into the frame and saw what looked like memories to himself.  What if it stirred something up with you? Your mood was already foul enough, he didn’t want to risk it.

He wasn’t one to stir the pot, so to speak. 

Your brow twitched at his seemingly carefree manner at his ditching stunt.  You groaned as you whacked him on the arm before pointing your finger at his face in a warning manner, making him go cross eyed momentarily.  

“You run off like that again, and I’ll tie your wrist to mine. Got it?”

“Promise?” He teased as you just threw your hands in the air in defeat and started walking off.  He wasn’t planning on running when your back was turned again.  Just that one time was enough.  Now that he was with Namjoon too, he couldn’t risk being as careless.  “We’re going. Come on.”

“At your beck and call, Leader,” Taehyung chided, still trying to get your spirits higher from the mood he put you in.  Namjoon followed behind silently with skeptical eyes as Taehyung chatted with you like he’d known you all his life.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had since stopped his yammering as you lead the charge of three through halls and told them when to be silent and when to be cautious. You kept a close eye on Namjoon, something about the friend of Taehyung’s rubbing you the wrong way.  You couldn’t say whether or not you were a good judge of character since Taehyung was the first human you ever met, but you still felt something off.  His cold glare made your artificial skin crawl.

You had just walked through an archway before Taehyung made a noise of recognition as you turned to him.  He looked around with wide eyes.  

“What is it?”

“I feel like I’ve been in this area before.”

“Really?” You questioned.  You’d never really gone into this portion of the gallery.  It was always too dark to see and you were always put off by how quiet it was.  It was like there was something on the other side of the walls that irked you.  “Maybe you passed by here before I found you. I’ve never been in this part before.”

“You haven’t been here? I thought you had been everywhere.” Taehyung wasn’t accusing you, he was just curious.  He wanted to know why you hadn’t been here.  

“I had no reason to be,” you told him.  “Besides, I don’t think a creature like me who’s slowly corrupting belongs in a tranquil part of this place.”

“So,” Namjoon finally intervened from behind the two of you.  You both turned to look at his cross-armed figure, still glaring and fuming with some odd sense of presence you hated.  “You admit you’re dangerous?”

Your brows furrowed.  “Excuse me?”

“You said you’re corrupting.  So? That sounds like a red-flag if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I’m sorry,” you scoff in disbelief, “has it been you getting Taehyung through this place in one piece? Or maybe it was you who has been taking down threats left and right and going on wild goose chases when things go south. No?”

“Guys-” Taehyung tried dispersing the stifling air, but Namjoon’s ire interrupted him.  You both went back and forth and before long you were at Namjoon’s toes, arguing with him face to face- quite literally.  Taehyung watched as he tried to think of a way to calm you both down.  The last thing he wanted was to both waste time and have the two sides of his trust arguing against each other.  

Taehyung was going to open his mouth and shout or something, just to break the string of tension, but his jaw had just dropped when you had stopped mid-sentence.  Your hand was raised, an accusatory finger pointed at his best friend’s chin when it started to drop just a fraction to his chest.

“Y/n?” Taehyung called.  He shrieked when your hand came to grip his chin, squeezing his jaw as you yanked Namjoon’s face down to look into his eyes.  “Woah! Y/n, c-calm down!” You narrowed your eyes before you shoved him away, making his feet stumble back a handful of steps to keep himself upright.  Taehyung came to your side as you shook your hand as if it was contaminated. He looked you over and noticed the uneasy look on your face. “What’s-”

“Why are you sticking to that painting like glue?” Namjoon called to Taehyung as he rubbed his jaw.  “I’m your friend here, not that.” Taehyung looked up and towards the journalist with confliction.  

“T-that’s true, but-”

“But nothing.  That thing just grabbed and shoved me, but you’re at it’s side like I did something wrong.  You should be checking on me, not fawning over that.” He pointed at you, his eyes grew small in anger as you just shot back at him a silent glare.  

Taehyung was less than pleased to keep hearing Namjoon refer to you as ‘it’ or a ‘thing’.  Painting or not, you were still alive and, dammit, Namjoon needed to accept that already. He was ready to tell him off, defend you when you spoke first in a low tone.

“Do you trust me?” You asked. You were looking dead at Namjoon, but the artist knew you were addressing him.  You repeat the question when you’re met with only silence.  Taehyung immedately nodded when the question was repeated.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“WHY?!” He jumped from Namjoon’s shriek across from the two of you. Your shoulders squared and the action didn’t go unnoticed. “Why trust something you just met?! Who is admitting to killing things and slowing losing its mind?!” His brought his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. “You should be trusting me!”

“What is wrong with you,” Taehyung whispered in concern, wondering what happened to his best friend.  He was normally the type to roll with anything, even in stressful situations he always tried to take it with a grain of salt.  He was an optimist, or at least he always tried to be.  No matter the dark tunnel, there’s always a light; it was basically Namjoon’s life motto. “Did something happen? Stop accusing Y/n and just talk to-” he gasped when he felt your hand grasp his.  Your face was downcast as you squeezed his palm. “Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and looked at him dead in the eyes.  “We have to run.” Taehyung jolted back.  Run? From what? You looked back at Namjoon, your colorblind eyes slowly unveiling just who and what that best friend of Taehyung’s was.  “We need to get away from him as soon as possible.  He’s dangerous.”

“What?” Taehyung was in instant denial.  Namjoon? Dangerous?  The same Namjoon who would cry if one of his plants died or would lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling if someone asked him what his favorite brand of pen is for the hundredth time? “That’s not true, he’s-” Taehyung looked at his best friend to defend him, but stopped short.

Something about him was off. Taehyung had noticed it since the beginning, but dismissed it all. Now, it looked like some veil of black was hovering around his friend’s body as he glared at you. Namjoon didn’t look like himself.  He looked fake and at that, Taehyung’s eyes widened.  

He looked artificial- just like how you did to his human eyes.  

You must have seen it in his eyes, that’s why you grabbed his chin to inspect him further.  That’s why you shoved him away and that’s why you wanted Taehyung to flee.  

Your hand dropped his as you caught sight of the thing disguised as Taehyung’s friend moving just slightly.  You stepped in front of the artist before you took off before ‘it’ could.  It lunged and you were quick to react.  You lifted your foot and slammed it into it’s stomach as it leaned forward- not at the lack of air, but the force you put into your stomping.  You locked your arm around the back of its neck as you tucked it’s head under your arm and held it in place in a lock.  

You groaned as you felt your arms burn with contamination again and your grip almost loosened at the paintings thrashing because of it.  You planted your feet as firmly as you could, even if the thrashing made you teeterd from your heels to your toes and skid an inch back or forward here and there.  

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the thing under your arm contained and although you had just told Taehyung not to leave your side again, you were ready to tell him to run off and hide somewhere until you could find him.  

The moment you turned your head on your shoulders to shout for him to do so, you halted to see him literally at your back already.  His large hands had planted themselves one on your back to steady you and the only ensnared in the fake Namjoon’s clothed back, gripping it’s clothes firmly. Even the fabric felt like paint under his nails as he started to rip the thing away from you.  

Taehyung caught sight of the fake’s face and what used to be identical to Namjoon had muddled away to show a white tar surface with no sense of expression. He sneered as he took your place of taking it on before he was shoving it backward.  

Although he wasn’t a fighter, Taehyung was no push over.  He could hold his own if he really ended up needing to and at the moment, he did.  He pushed the fake as it stumbled on it’s own clumsy feet before it started to go after him again.  Taehyung swung his elbow out, cathing the fake in the whiteness of it’s face before it hit the ground.  

He backed up away from the thing he just put on the ground, turning to you and snatching your hand in his again.

Taehyung’s hand squeezed yours and when he did, you spun on your heels and took off, fleeing with the young artist beside you.  You both heard ‘Namjoon’ scream behind your backs as Taehyung looked back to see it still laying on the floor, skriming.  

Taehyung was terrified, more terrified than he was before.  He was terrified on how it gained his trust so easily- a thought that almost made him angry.  He felt stupid as he held onto your hand like a linelife as you weaved through the halls and soon came to a staircase.  

You stopped as you looked over your shoulder as Taehyung buckled to his knees and heaved after sprinting for so long.  He used the wall to support himself as you looked at him trying to gather his breath.  

You looked at your hand in his and attempted to pull it away from him, but he just squeezed tighter onto you and tugged it back.

“A little longer,” he whispered.  After a few minutes of him gathering himself and you making sure you both weren't followed, he stood back to his height and continued to hold you hand.  “Hey,” he called with a tight throat. “If we run into anyone else, if you don’t trust them, tell me and I won’t either.” You didn’t say a word to try and deter him from using your judgement as his own, you simply nodded in agreement.  

If all worked out, he wouldn’t need to use your opinions for much longer.  You were going to get him out.

The two of you ascended the staircase before you and when you reached the top, Taehyung looked around to see the spitting image of the original gallery.  

The white walls and matching floors and ceilings. The chandeliers that weren’t on with the power out and the windows all greyed out as if they were blocked by cement.  The front doors were locked as if there was no escape.  Trying a switch, he wasn’t shocked to see the lights not working.  

“Can you lead from here,” you asked him, just trying to get him to talk again.  “I don’t know my way around.” He only nodded before he was walking off, tugging you in tow as you thought of ways to make his voice come out again.  You felt oddly uneasy when he was silent.  The previous incident with the fake friend of his obviously taking a mental toll on him.  It was to be expected, but it still hurt your chest.

If you had a beating heart, you’d call this feeling heartache.

It was when you passed by a rather mundane looking couch that was suclupted in a strange, wavey shape when you figured out a way to get him to talk. You stopped and your hand in his anchored him when he looked over his shoulder.  When he looked at you, you pointed to the sofa surrounded in rope dividers.

“What colors is that?” You asked when you looked back at him.  Your actions and unspoken desire to get his voice to come out didn’t go unnoticed-  

He smiled. “It’s red,” he told you.

-Nor did it go unappreciated.  

From that, he would tell you the colors of whatever you pointed at that you passed and before he knew it he had come to a deadend with only one, giant painting on the wall- taking up the entire space of it.  His mouth opened as his hand dropped from yours as he looked at it.  

“That’s,” he looked at it as his eyes ran over every edge. “That looks like the gallery. The real one,” he smiled as he gazed at it.  This was it, his way out. He felt in his bones that this was his exit.  His hand reached to touch the canvas, but gasped when his hand just phased right through.  It was just like how your frame was.  He could climb into this and be somewhere else.  

Then he felt a chill run down his spine and a heavy feeling fall in his gut.  He pulled his hand back as he turned around and looked at you.  You were well behind him against the back wall, your hands behind your back as you watched him.  

“What?” You asked.  This was his way out and you both knew it.  You expected him to jump on through and finally be free of this hellscape, but instead he made his way back to you and away from his exit door disguised as a painting. He stood in front of you, toe to toe as he looked at you.

Taehyung gazed at you, his eyes began to sting as they felt misty.  This was ridiculous, he felt ridiculous. How could he cry about leaving you behind when he just met you?  You didn’t belong in his world and he knew that just as much as you.  Yet, the feeling of parting ways with you made his throat tight.

“I’m leaving,” he told you. “And I won’t ever see you again,” he choked.  You were shocked to see the first tear run down his face.  You wondered if tears were blue. You brushed it away with the back of your hand as more just kept coming.  He could see the distortion on your skin under your sleeve from the angle of you wiping his tears and he just wanted to cry more.

His mind started becoming delusional.  

If he chose not to leave and stayed put with you, would you hurt him? Would you hunt him down in time and kill him like the others had before?  Would he lose his humanity even? Turn into a painting and spend the rest of his time with you. You wouldn’t be alone if he did. What if he tried to take you back with him? Would you just disintegrate into paint splotches because you had no physical body to speak of?

So many hypotheticals and you wouldn’t allow any of them to come to fruition.

“Go home, Taehyung,” you told him softly with a smile, the hand you placed on his cheek rubbed his skin before letting it softly fall.  You urged him, not commanded him and he knew he had to go.  He sniffled as he grabbed your hands and held them again. “What, you want a hug goodbye or something?” You teased but when he didn’t reply, you rolled your eyes.  “You do, don't you?”

“And? What about it,” he sniffed as he pouted. You pulled your hands away from his, even if he chased after them when you did.  You swatted at his hands that tried grabbing yours once more.

“Do you want me to hug you or not?” You asked in impatience while he nodded like a child. “Then let my hands go.” He immediately abandoned your hands and wrapped his arms under your own and pulled you to your toes against his chest.  You felt your chest hit his with a dull thud as he held you like you were dying.  

Well, you sort of were, but he didn’t need the finer details repeated on your unavoidable fate.  

He started swaying you on your toes as he found a home on your shoulder. One of your hands was on his head, shushing him and the other pat his back between his shoulders.  He really was like a giant child.  Was this what a goodbye hug felt like? It felt nothing like the hug he gave you when he was attacked previously and reunited with him.  This one felt much more sad- desperate even.

“Teahyung,” you whispered as you felt him hum against your shoulder. “You need to go.”

“I know,” he admitted before he started to pull away from you when your hands moved to land on his shoulders to push him softly.  His eyes looked swollen and wondered what color the skin around his eyes were. It looked darker to your black and white vision. “I think- I think I’m going to miss you.  A lot.”  

You brought a hand to his cheek again, stroking it as you smiled at him.  

“You’ll forget a painting like me in no time,” you eased.  He frowned at that, wanting to hug you again, but you just pushed him away. Turning him by his shoulders, you started to push him from behind to the frame before you came to his side.  You gestured towards it. “Home is waiting for you.”

He swallowed another large lump in his throat.  He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from crying anymore.  He was so overly emotional and he was annoying himself because of it. He could only imagine how you felt watching his waterworks.  

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“I’m going back to my frame,” you told him.  “I’ll go back to my home too,” you smiled.  He felt a small sliver of relief at your answer.  “We’ll both go back to where we belong, just as he should. It’ll be okay.” You pat his back. “I promise.” You felt bad, lying straight to his face like that.  

He nodded before he grabbed the inside of the frame, and began to hull himself over.  He had one knee resting on the frame edge and the other still hanging out when he turned and looked down at you hovering above you on the wall.  He reached in his jacket and pulled out his rose before he handed it to you.  It was a silent agreement as he passed it onto you- he knew he wouldn’t need it anymore. You’d keep it safe even if he wasn’t there anymore and he knew you would.

He put on his brightest smile, “see you around, Y/n,” before he jumped completely through.

As his body faded into the stretched, painted fabric of the canvas and the frame seemed to close like a locked portal that you couldn’t ever even think about passing through, you fell to the ground, screaming as your body felt like it was on fire.

You laughed bitterly as you were just relieved that the one precious person you managed to meet in your miserable existence as a painting without a future was someone as kind and warm as Taehyung.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung felt dazed.  

He was staring at a plaque as his eyes were bleary like he had just woken up from a long nap.  He felt like yawning before he felt a shake on his shoulder.  He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.  

“Hey,” Namjoon called with concern written on his face, “what’s with you? You zoned out for like two minutes.”

“I dunno,” he replied.  He moved to look at the giant painting of a black location with messy brushes of what looked like some haunted locations.  “I feel like I just woke up from a really nap.” He yawned as he read the name of the painting loud to himself.  “Parallel Reality,” the words read and they sounded familiar to him.  “I feel like I'm forgetting something,” he frowned. “Didn’t the lights go out a little while ago or something?”

“Dude,” Namjoon’s hand fell from his friend’s shoulder. “You really need to get some proper sleep if you’re taking micro-naps, standing up, around this many people and dreaming about power-outages.” It was only then that the artist was aware of all the sounds around him- buzzing from every corner of the building.

“I don’t wanna hear that from the reigning champ of disarranged sleep schedules.”

The journalist and young, free-lance artist continued walking around the blinding white gallery.  People crowded the place and the murmur of them all talking in whispers comforted Taehyung for a reason he couldn’t exactly explain.  

He and Namjoon had started down the final hall they had left to view. The sme hall that happened to contain the naming right to the gallery in the first place.  At the end of the hall, hanging on the dead-end wall was the one painting called ‘Leia’. The piece Taehyung came to see specifically to see if he could be sprung out of his art-block.

As he stood in front of the painting, he inspected it.

It was a young woman dressed in dated clothes with her eyes looking off to almost mimic looking off the canvas.  Her legs were coiled in thorns and she looked like she was running from something, but with a protective sense and not a fearful one.  She held a blue rose in her hand as the silver, engraved frame encased the painting.  

The piece wasn’t what he was expecting, but somehow looking at the piece, he felt calm despite the action set formed in brush strokes.  As the tour guide in charge of 'Leia’ began to explain how it was the artist’s last piece, Taehyung began to zone out again, while Namjoon scribbled down notes beside him.  

As she yammered on and on, Namjoon soon caught sight of his friend’s face. He stopped his writing as he lifted his pen up and lowered his arm to tuck it away in his pocket,. When his hand was free of any writing utensil, he placed it on Taehyung’s back.

“Hey,” he whispered softly to not gain attention from the other’s standing around them. “Why are you crying?”

Taehyung jolted as he quickly brought his hands to his face.  

He was crying.  

When did he start and why? He wiped them away only for more to follow through.  He was soon silently hunched over sobbing.  Why did he feel this way by looking at a painting? Art had always given him a sense of emotion- but he hadn’t felt such sorrow before.  

“I don’t know,” he whimpered as Namjoon took him to some place less crowded. As Taehyung calmed down, he felt oddly refreshed.  

“You okay now? I’ve got enough notes for an entry if you want to leave.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I want to go home and paint,” he announced as Namjoon smiled, happy to see a spark behind Taehyung’s eyes return.  The spark of an artist that had finally overcome his art-block. 

“Alright, then let’s get going.” As the two men walked out, reception bidding them farewell, Namjoon started making conversation. “So, what do you want to paint?”

“I’m not sure, but maybe a blue rose garden or something. Paired with something old fashioned, like outdated clothing or old picture books. I’ll figure it out when I get to my studio.”

He didn’t voice it, but he knew he’d be back to view ‘Leia’ again, and this time he wouldn’t cry. The calmness he felt from the painting- regardless of his tears- was like being reunited with an old friend. 

What kind of man would Taehyung be if he cried in front of a friend?  

-END-

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2021 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Results

Among the many things this past year or so has tested us with is delays, and I apologize that this year’s Valentine’s Day contest results are included in that. I certainly did not plan on this taking until March to get completed, and I am sincerely sorry to have kept you all waiting. But hopefully it is all worth the wait!!

Thanks once again to every single one of you who participated! I will be contacting the winners soon enough. Work will probably keep me from replying to everyone immediately, but I will send a message about prizes hopefully within 24 hours.

Also, my thanks to @subzeroiceskater​ for helping out with judging this year. Not to mention the promo pic above and other assorted bonuses that always bring me a big smile. I might say this seemingly every year, but you all made judging this VERY hard. It might have something to do with the themes as well, but I think both of us flipped and rearranged our rankings repeatedly, and even then, it was hard to decide on who would place. XD Each one of you did an amazing job!

After the break, you’ll see the winners for both categories, along with all of the entries. Raffle prize winners will be noted below by their alias, as well.

Category 1: Kiss From a Rosered (Talent)

For our talent category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman characters giving roses to their special someone, along with incorporating the symbolism of specific rose colors within the piece. That rose color was also to be the predominant color within the piece, to the best of your ability.

A grand total of 9 entries were submitted for this category. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE]. Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Sapphire: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oooooh, this is so cute and pink! Piiink~ Ehem. I love the depth, angle, and color grading of these—notice how Roll’s black linework is at the forefront of the pic but colors mixes with the lights and colors from the sun further along the pic. There’s a lot to admire about how everything easy to read with so many competing elements like the similar hues and bright lighting.

Pink roses usually mean a gentler sort of love but did you know that different shades of pink could signify different things as well? A darker shade may mean gratitude; medium shade could be about a first love or congratulations while a light shade may mean admiration. Tron holding a singular pink rose with varying shades of pink while literally tripping over herself and a Servbot could only mean—that this is hilarious.

Miyabi said:

From a technical standpoint, I think your piece clearly felt the most polished, crisp and virtually professional of the bunch. But more than that, I felt it also best gave off the vibe of the rose color dominating the piece, but in very subtle, beautiful ways. Where as the pink sunset causes many of the normally white areas, like Roll’s collar/sleeves, parts of Gustaff, and more, to ooze that pink lighting. Even with her klutziness, you still also portrayed the feeling of sweetness, admiration and appreciation that a pink rose conveys. Just so pretty, calming, and joyful to look at!

2.) Forceway: *$75 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

There is a sort of gentle irony with how Skull Man and Shade Man are both robots modeled after horror symbols—skulls and vampires—but are here surrounded by a soft sea of pink roses. The dark night is often depicted as a primal fear because it hides our deepest fears but here—illuminated by the bright shining moon—the night is transformed into a scene of love—perhaps devotion, with how Shade is gently cradling Skull, as well with the church bell in the background. This is a very tender piece mixing the shadows and the sweet.

Miyabi said:

I know most digital art programs have the brushes and shortcuts to make detailing things like roses a lot easier, but your bed of roses certainly look all done by hand on your own, and that alone impressed me a ton! Based off of the Ariga Megamix tale of Skull Man not feeling appreciated or having a family after Cossack stored him away, I felt the pink roses and Shade showing him that he is actually appreciated here was a fantastic conceptual choice. Purples in the sky and Shade’s body split the canvas and contrast with the pink well, including how you used the pink for some of the stars in the sky. Beautiful job!

3.) DigitallyFanged: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Yellow is a bright color, often evoking the sun, warmth, light, joy and hope. With roses, its positive connotations continue with possible meanings of friendship, care and remembrance. Tabby’s piece seems to evoke the last one the strongest—with Zero, broken and forgotten in a lab—but, not entirely, because of a bond that is stronger than apparent death lives on—even if in this moment, it’s only a memory. Even the roses are not real—just projections of what was once alive. This is fantastic use contrast with the dark, moody blues against the vivid, almost defiant yellows; and the repeated little motifs such as X crying and the water drops falling all over Zero. It stands out from the rest of happy entries with how sad it is but it still manages to be hopeful.

Miyabi said:

Zero’s blonde locks certainly are an iconic part of his design, so playing off of that and focusing on yellow as your rose color fit perfectly. You definitely made this a very emotive piece considering technically, neither of these two are even alive and moving here! As mentioned above, the little details like the water droplets balancing against Cyber Elf X’s tears, the digital lines to make it appear like X has created the cyber-roses for Zero, and Zero’s battle damage caught my eye immediately. You certainly captured the yellow rose symbolism of remembrance and friendly affection beautifully!!

And the rest of the wonderful entries, in alphabetical order by alias:

AbilityField: [Page 1] [Page 2] [Page 3] [Page 4]

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Mega Man Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

It’s so poetic about how this contest theme is about how the language of flowers is used to communicate feelings beyond just using words; and so, the comic is completely silent, relying on actions to convey its meaning. Yellow roses could mean friendship, care and affection; and it’s shown wonderfully with how Iris and Lan are so thoughtful with one another. It’s so cute how Iris missed Lan only because he was already out buying roses for her. Given how hard comics are to make and how this is fully colored, I really wanted to give this first place—however I felt the color usage of yellow could have been stronger, especially with the last page, where it would have had the most impact. I had to squint and zoom out to even see if the lighting had changed. Still, it’s such a very warm and lovely work.

Miyabi said:

I always appreciate the effort people put into making multiple-page comics for these contests, and this is no exception! Even without dialogue, you did a great job at conveying your story through your art in each panel and it was easily understandable. Another utilizing the yellow rose, I certainly felt the friendship and warmth in your tale. As Subzero mentioned, the only thing keeping it from placing was that the yellow colors weren’t as dominant in other areas of the pic, besides the panel by Sal. Still, your coloring was very crisp and vibrant throughout each page, and it was an awesome submission!

aw-colorcat:

Subzeroiceskater said:

With the red for Metal Man, orange for Cut Man and the explosion of yellow flowers, that’s the trifecta of warm colors. Yellow roses could mean delight and this pic is delightful in all ways. Cut looks so cute practically swimming in the sea of flowers and greenery, as does Metal’s adorable expression—which is a feat since he only shows his eyes. I also really like the juxtaposition and balance of this piece from: the rust-brown car against green-yellow nature running wild, and Metal holding a bouquet meanwhile Cut’s covered with plants. It makes me want to get some fresh air myself!

Miyabi said:

Cut Man looks grateful for being able to ride in that pickup bed of flowers, and I have a feeling the two of them had a wonderful time just snipping and sawing away at all the stems to gather them all. XD Love how the yellow and oranges play off of both character’s color schemes nicely. The subtlety of the yellow flowers in the foreground, along with the sun and tree in the background all play off each other well, too! Just an absolutely cute pic!

Dark-Dullahan: 

Subzeroiceskater said: 

What a fantastic composition. Dark-Dullahan does away with most color, leaving the colors of the mixed-bouquet roses as the main focal point. Classic red for romance, a gentler pink for affection, mixed yellow roses to signify caring and probably so much more—seems like Nana can’t contain her feelings for Massimo. I love how the close up of the bouquet doesn’t just form a kind of heart at the top but serves as the divider between the two, like a diptych. With such a wonderful offering, Massimo would surely accept her feelings.

Miyabi said: 

As you brought to my attention, your mixed bouquet had a few different meanings, such as the dark pink representing thanks to Massimo for saving Nana from Silver Horn, and the red tips on the yellow roses to symbolize falling in love. Certainly got those vibes from her shy demeanor, as she sheepishly tries to hand them to him. Also agree with Subzero that the line from the bouquet nicely works as a way to separate them uniquely with the background. Sorry you weren’t able to complete it as fully as you had hoped, but the concept behind it certainly was strong!

Donnie:

Donnie also sent in an alternate version made during the creative process, in a different artistic style, that I still feel needs to be shared, as well. Fun to see the contrast, yet still have the same feeling and mood to the piece. 

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oh, I adore this one. It reminds me of a movie poster with the tagline. I love the extra PINK flourishes of the letterings like with the Mega Man logo color change and cute pixelated font and heart. Both Rock and Roll’s expressions are so cute, too—with his more subdued smile contrasted with her exuberant grin. Much like how the pink rose could mean many things like thoughtfulness, cheer or as a show of appreciation, this piece is positively sparkling with affection, hearts and all. It’s clever how the sunset is giving the picture an overall pinkish-red hue while having the yellow light as an outline. A darling piece.

Miyabi said:

With pink roses again, I truly liked the additional hue adjustments where you can feel the warmth and see the lighter pink mixed into their skintone, or areas normally of white - from eyes to teeth to the Megaman logo - that have taken on the pink in it’s place. With the painterly watercolor style you used, it all blends in nicely. Even in your earlier version, I feel you brought a strong game with the hues, but toned down the red from that version to make it feel much stronger towards pink, with a tighter crop of your canvas. It was fun to see how it evolved, and strengthened your piece in doing so! Fabulous job!

DragonMarquise:

Subzeroiceskater said:

No better way to show how madly in love you are than a bouquet of roses that run the gamut of—I can’t call these warm colors because these passions are running hot. Orange seems to be the dominant color here—which in roses could symbolize a love that’s passionate, fierce and deep. It’s also expressed nicely with the two lovers embracing, engaged in mid kiss, their bodies also forming a subtle heart shape, to emphasize the flurry of hearts around them. The bouquet is not just orange roses, however, but a mixed bouquet of the classic romantic red and the more affectionate pink—it’s a piece that’s bursting with all degrees of love.

Miyabi said:

You also certainly mastered the limited color pallette challenge as you tackled this piece! Orange, the color of passion, is certainly felt in their deep kiss and embrace. I too caught the heart shape their heads essentially form, which is then further enforced with the heart of hearts behind them. I thought that concept was pulled off very well. Perfect for the fiery intensity of Match, this turned out to be a very hot pic!

Mattasaurs:

Subzeroiceskater said:

This one has a very clever framing (eh? EH?). The color white is often associated with purity, innocence and hope, and with white roses—weddings and marriage. Sonia dons the classic white wedding dress which has a très élégante design—and the little Lyra on her belt is very cute. The pink background is also very romantic and a nice way to tie in with her theme colors. I dig the lovey-dovey feel of Geo doing the classic bridal carry while clasping a single white rose...but seeing the thorns, I think he better watch his hand!

Miyabi said:

For a theme emphasizing color within the pic, I salute you for taking the biggest challenge in choosing white. In many ways, it could have been the hardest to keep as a predominant color, but still make the pic interesting and visually appealing. Choosing to have the petals all around the frame, with the bouquet nearby was a clever touch. With white often used for weddings and new beginnings, I think the concept of your piece worked just right, where it was subtle, but still incorporated enough other color to give the piece some life. 

Category 2: Kawaii-rimi (Humor)

For our humor category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman character gifting the plush form of another Megaman character to their crush, instantly created by a ninja-like character, to play off of the Kawarimi concept from the EXE series. 

With just 3 entries in our humor category this time around, every entrant placed. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE].  Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Mattasaurs: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said: 

Y’know how blocks of wood are sometimes used by ninjas when they do that whole body switching thing? I think it’s clever how this pic has Sal—Woodman.exe’s operator—conjuring the doll. Everything about the pic is so fun and colorful: from Sal’s mischievous grin of accomplishment, Miyu being completely shocked by her chibi doppelganger (check out that body language!) and Masa’s confused expression.

Miyabi said:

Yes, while to some, Sal might not be the first one they think of when they think ninja in the Megaman Universe, but I certainly thought she still fits the bill in her design. Usually we don’t see this much emotion or shock out of Miyu, so seeing her torque her body, taken aback at a doll of herself, is amusing in it’s own right. Meanwhile, nothing fazes Masa. And a bit of randomness: oh man, seeing Masa’s head in profile, with his bandana...wow, I never realized how much his head shape with the bandana looks like a fish’s. I can’t unsee it now. Anyways, I also agree that the color, polish, and fun vibe made this a worthy winner!

2.) ColeManX: *$75 prize*

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Cutsman Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

E-Eyes? What did you mean by that, Mr. RT-55J?  Although judging from the sparkle on those booblights… I understand, Cinnamon—if that happened to me, I’d be making asides to the camera, like I was in “The Office”, too. Cinnamon’s enthusiastic smile with this whole bizarre scene really sells it for me but shoutout to Marino’s smug satisfaction in the background.

Miyabi said:

🎵 I kind of liked it your way How you shyly placed your eyes on me Did you ever know That I had mine on you?🎵

RT says it only has eyes for Cinny right now, but it’s also known to be a little grabby hands, so I don’t know if I’d fully trust it...but good thing this is just a plush version. Time for the tables to be turned, and Cinnamon to get her claws and paws on it, instead. Very cute, although after the DiVE V-Day event, we all know this is a ruse and your pal boobeyes only belongs to the Ferham Fanclub. XD

3.) Ronin-Apprentice: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said: 

This whole comic is so sweet and fluffy, nya!  ~(=^‥^)ノ☆ It’s adorable how Proto brings up his gift first and the surprise is how Shadow handmade his gift. The little cat-eared Blues design is so darling--almost as cute as him fussing how totally NOT a cat he is. “Did you steal my cat.” had me snorting. Now I’m wondering where Tango went off to…

Miyabi said:

FU-SION-HA! 

Aside from getting his own Super Adaptor, this is probably the closest we’ve got to seeing Tango and Blues merged as one. LOL I’m sure that plush would have a ton of fans wishing it actually existed. The panels where Blues embarrassingly hides behind his scarf and gets pet like a cat had me laughing! Very cute and adorable comic, that certainly had the most depth in terms of the theme of this category!

[klymilark]

Sore: Chapter 2

First Chapter

CW: Swearing, mentions of sexual assault

Word count: 1872

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Kaye woke up from her slumber in a sweat.  She’s always had nightmares when moving, but it seems like a new method of torture has been introduced into her brain.  One specifically related to this move. She calms herself down, and heads to the kitchen to put coffee on. Once the coffee’s done, she goes out to the back patio to have a cigarette.  She’s been trying to quit, and has been mostly successful.  Dreams like that, however, just fuck with her in quite a few ways, so she keeps a pack around.  After her cigarette is done, Amie walks outside, and sits near her.

“Bad night?” Amie asks

“Yeah.  Wasn’t worse than anything you’ve heard, but definitely a new one.” Kaye responds.

“Ahh, that’s not good.” Amie says.

“You’re telling me. Although, I do still feel like I’ve slept, so that’s a plus.” Kaye says with a moderate tone of sarcasm.

“You always do.  Excited to see the condo?” Amie asks, switching the subject.

“Yes!  The fact that I can afford to buy is wonderful, too.  Gonna be nice to be able to rip the carpet up instead of just having to deal with it.”  Kaye says, bouncing up and down lightly.

“Woah.  Did you just act excited?!  Who are you, and what have you done with my Kaye?”  Amie asks, genuinely shocked at the display of excitement.  In all of the years they’ve known each other, Amie has not once known Kaye to show any kind of emotion beyond neutral.

“Huh.  I guess so?  This is weird.” Kaye responds, also genuinely confused at her willingness to show the emotions.  That’s something she’s always struggled with.

Amie giggles and says, “Maybe it’s the dress.”

Kaye looks down, and realizes that she is still wearing the dress she went to bed with last night.  Her face then proceeds to turn several shades of red, and you could swear a few shades of purple mixed in at some points. Amie points this out through a very poorly hidden laugh, which only serves to make the problem worse.  After another 20 minutes or so of Amie poking fun at Kaye for showing emotion for the first time, Don steps out.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Don asks Kaye.

“Oh, yeah.  Let me change into something more appropriate for heavy lifting.  I’ll be ready in ten minutes tops.”  Kaye responds, downing her coffee.

“No need to rush, I was just asking.” Don says.

Kaye runs out to the truck, and grabs a pair of canvas pants, and a flannel shirt.  For some reason, they don’t seem to fit quite as well today as they did a few days ago.  Must just be the trip.  Kaye then runs up to the box truck, and gets in.  As she waits for Don to get in his car, Amie starts knocking on her driver side window.  Kaye opens the door.

“I think you forgot something” Amie says, holding the dress out.

“No, it’s yo-” Kaye starts.

“Take it.  It’s yours. You love it, and you definitely need it more than I do.” Amie says, cutting her off.

“But-” Kaye starts.

“No.  Buts.  It’s yours.” Amie says.

Kaye grabs the dress through the window, and puts it in the passenger seat.  She then jumps down from her seat, and hugs Amie as tight as she can.  This girl has been nothing but wonderful to her, and it’s about time she starts showing some appreciation for it.  As the hug stops, Amie smiles.  Don comes out, they get in their cars, and leave.  Amie stayed behind, because she had some cleaning to do.

They pulled up to Kaye’s condo.  It was a first floor unit, which she picked out primarily for the fairly easy sound proofing she could do.  She didn’t plan to get very loud, but you never know where life will take you.  Doubly so when everything is about to change.

Before they start moving anything, they decide to walk in to tour the place.  Kaye hadn’t seen the place, and she’d been trusting Amie’s word about how well it would fit.  From what Amie said, it would be darn near perfect.  The living room was large enough that her computer could fit in the corner without obstructing too much of the room, and it had a connected half bathroom.  The master bedroom was large enough to fit a four poster bed, which wasn’t there yet, but would be one day.  The master bathroom had a corner tub that could definitely fit Kaye’s height, as well as a separate stall shower.  Finally, the spare bedroom would definitely fit all of the various implements and furniture Kaye planned.  It was perfect!

Kaye and Don began unpacking.  She didn’t have much, so it only took a solid hour. Kaye moved most of the boxes to the rooms the contents had belonged in, as did Don.

“Hey, Kaye, where do the boxes that just have a D on them go?” Don asked

“Oh, just throw them in the spare bedroom.  I’ll have to unpack everything there, since I’m gonna be kind of particular about where everything goes.” Kaye responded.

“Alright!” Don said.

As Don said that, though, the box he was carrying burst through the bottom.  What looked like a set of mountain climbing gear, plus a few other odds and ends came crashing to the floor.  Don’s focus shifted to one item in particular, though.  Settled near the top of the pile were a pair of very fuzzy white cat ears.  They had barrettes on them for attaching to the head, bells, and ribbons on them.  Don giggled a bit to himself, which drew Kaye’s attention to the mess.

“Whatcha doin’?” Kaye asks, leaning into the bedroom from the hallway.

As she stood there, her mind started racing.  Don didn’t know what she liked to do in her spare time, and this wasn’t the way she was hoping he’d find out. It’d be one thing if Amie told him, but this?!  Almost 500 feet of rope falling on the floor with cat ears smack on top.  Right in plain view.  How is she going to cover this up?  She really doesn’t feel up to the conversation right now, and she’d rather not have to go through with it until way later.  Shit shit shit!  Shit!

“What’s all of this for?” Don said.

Kaye, trying her best to maintain her composure externally, and doing a remarkable job given the night she had, and the amount of heavy shit was just moved.

“I… was in theater in college.”  Kaye said.

“I didn’t know your college had a theater program.” Don responds, puzzled.

“They don’t!  It was a local thing for college-aged kids.” Kaye says, grasping for straws

“Interesting,“ Don says, contemplating whether to believe this story or not, “You’ll have to show me a video at some point.”

“They didn’t really allow video recording a lot of the time, and I wasn’t in it for that long.” Kaye says, realizing that her story sounds less and less plausible, “Plus I mostly did lighting work.  I only had one on-stage performance.”

Really?  That’s the best she could come up with?  He’s gonna know.

“That’s too bad, but not too surprising.  You were always better with technical stuff than the arts.” Don says.

How the hell did he buy that?  That was the single stupidest excuse Kaye had ever heard from anyone, much less said.  She guesses that her friend just trusts her, or at least understands that this is a part of herself she isn’t quite ready to share yet.  

“So, that looks like all of it’s sorted.  Want to grab a few chairs?” Don asks.

“S-sure.  I’ll grab the mead.” Kaye responds.

She goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of the mead she brought with her.  It was a dry one that had been aged for about a year before being shipped across the country in the back of a box truck in a fairly big hurry.  While she was doing that, Don texted Amie and asked if she wanted to join them.  She didn’t, as she was just settling in for the afternoon. That was code for the bra came off, it’s not going back on, and I’m not leaving the house without it.

“Oh well, looks like it’s just us.” Don says, not too upset.

“From what she said, it seems that you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately.” Kaye says.

“Yeah.  She just quit her job, but she’s looking for another.  Last one got a bit too crazy for her to want to deal with anymore.  Thankfully she should have one soon, since she’s a damn good worker, and she has a good reference with her previous company.” Don says

“Does she?” Kaye asks.

“Yeah.  Her direct manager was awesome, it was everyone above him that was bad.” Don responds.

“I definitely know how that feels.” Kaye says, looking down slightly.

“Yeah.  Sorry for that, but it’ll hopefully get at least a little better here.” Don responds, rubbing her back.

“Thanks.” Kaye says.

“So, how’d you afford this place, anyway?  Seems like it’d be out of your pay range.” Don says, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“One of my previous employers.  They did some particularly heinous shit, and I managed to find a lawyer willing to represent it.  I didn’t win all that much, comparatively, but it was enough to afford this place.  Should be able to get a scrap car while I’m here, too.  Outside of that, since the place is paid off, I don’t have to worry about that much. Should be able to afford it working part time, honestly.” Kaye says.

“Ahh, wish I could say the same.” Don says.

“Yeah, I wish I couldn’t, given what I went through with that place.  It’s gonna take a while to get over that.” Kaye responds.

“That’s fair.  I remember how hard it got for you.” Don responds, “I don’t see why places can’t get over that, it’s not even that b-”

“Everyone thinks I’m a rapist is why they can’t get over it.  When someone looks at you and sees nothing but an absolute degenerate, nobody wants to keep you around.  I’m honestly shocked you and Amie did, all things considered.” Kaye responds, a little annoyed.

“Honestly, things would be weird without you texting one of us at random times to vent about something.  It’s been weird to not have you randomly knock on our doors to hang out and calm down.” Don says with a chuckle.

“Hopefully that’ll start again.  I was happiest in those moments.  I felt like I was home for the first time.” Kaye responds with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Well, welcome home.” Don says, arms outstretched.

Kaye hugs him as tightly as she can, and they stay like that for a few minutes.  She cries quite a bit, but he just stands there, just like he always has.  He’s been one of the few constants to her life, and she’s very thankful for that.

“So,” Kaye says, breaking off from him, “did you want to grab a game out?”

“Sure.” Don replies.

Chapter 3

Search sbbl on my blog to find the rest of the chapters, as well!

[jericho-rk3k]

A Fleeting Glimpse of Love (DBH: Connor/ Reader)

Author’s note: So I wrote half of this months ago but only managed to finish it now. Anyway, feedbacks are encouraged and until next time, my darlings!

Pairing: Connor x Gender neutral! Reader

Prompt: For as long as you can remember, you feel like there’s a gap in your memory. Who could it be; the one who plagues your dreams with incoherent bits and pieces of memories?

Warning: angst

— 🌹 —

Seconds stretched into hours, and hours into days when you thought of the gaping hole, which was expanding along the ticks of the clock, that  your heart bore, and as if the God of Misfortune decided that their first gift for you wasn’t altruistic enough, there came those shallow depressions and faults on the surface of your memories that became a sunken cave with its wall coloured in melancholy. 

The more you welcome them into your mind, the harsher their affects on you became, and the damage done to you in emotional terms was only acknowledged by you when you could finally feel the emptiness consume every bit of joy in you. Even after all these were done to you, the culprit was painstakingly yet to be found.

Ever since the injury sustained by you during the android revolution, you could feel a slight breeze in your memories which was supposed to be stacked, indicating that there was a spot somewhere along the shores of the sea of memories purposely dug by someone. The void in your heart made you feel like there was single damning piece in the entire puzzle, that was your heart, that was missing and seemingly lost in the maze of scattered emotions and memories -- damned to the point that the thought of an escape to this suffering was something that belonged to a horror film, and hope deemed an enemy of this place. 

Who was it that formed this unfortunate chasm in your heart? 

Who was it that shattered your masterpiece of a life that took years to paint -- who was it that made the canvas of life so barren and lifeless -- who was it that painted your walls black and white -- who was it that began all of this?

Brown.

After an unknown period of time, you unconsciously developed an attraction to the colour of earth: brown, the colour of the roots of ancient oak trees; of the chestnuts that provides an excellent, rich taste to the tongue; of the bitter, bold cacao that was yet to be tainted by the hands of humans, only to be turned into something that contradicted the originality; of the man-made strands of short hair that would dance along with the wind as if they bore some sensation of their own exhilaration and life; of the auburn tint in his eyes that spoke of great love, putting Shakespeare’s odes to a test. 

His eyes.

When staring into the eyes created by the clumsy hands of humans themselves, profound, were they of gauche passion of an amateur; and yet, ever so deserving of so much love and attention that it was painful. Eyes, which on the surfaces were the barks and songs of nature that you dearly loved, and as one traveled deeper, that was to gain a deeper understanding to them, one would see the side that was touched by the silvery rays of sunlight of humanity. He was just that beguiling, and the feeling of staring into those eyes of his: heavenly. 

Why? Out of all the memories of your beloved that were forcibly taken away from you, this was the one that created an abyss of sorrow that had no ends nor predictions of when it would strike you. Maybe this was because you were never really granted closure to the absence of the person who must have went through all sorts of hindrance and glory to offer them to you, and the inability to grasp even the silhouette of that person was enough to burden you with the guilt of thousands; it was as if letting something that your beloved had entrusted to you go without any vain attempt to halt its undue departure.

His love for you and only you; it amounted to the millions of fireflies during a rancorous desolate night that would guide you to a path that you have dreamed of ever since you were a child. Magical, was his love for you and only you.

By that time you were kicked out of your verdant forest of thoughts and flashbacks, you realized that you had unconsciously wrote ‘Connor’ on a piece of barren paper laying on your desk. Even if you have no recollection of when and why did you write that, you could sense a hint of intense despondency and separation of two lovers that took place sooner than what was planned by fate. 

No great importance or attention was granted to the mysterious name, but after a few restless nights and unforeseen flashbacks of the blurry past that came in a tiny debris-like manner, you decided to inquire about it from your longtime best friend and colleague, who you fortunately reconciled with after the unfortunate accident resulting in the loss of certain memories, North. 

“North?” you called out, your voice mildly shivering with uncertainty and fear, to which the reply was a simple ‘what’s up?’. “Do -- did... I know of someone named ‘Connor’?” 

If only you had the ability to observe the tiniest actions and behavioral changes, you would have noticed the lips that trembled in hesitancy; the discomfort and worry that were etched in the delicate wrinkles that surrounded the eyes, then gradually scintillated and burst into hues of passionate woe and abnormally, relief. It was as if one was watching the play of Romeo and Juliet, only to feel the tragic tale stinging one’s heart throughout the period of time in which the prominent play took place, and the difference in the ending that was yet to shock the audience who were destined to heave a sigh in relief, as if they were blessed by a happy ending to the distressing tale.

Another twist to add to the list was the shoulders that tensed up after momentarily relaxing, “Not that I know of... why do you ask?” North replied, and only if you had noticed the sudden change in the way she articulated, however you were too busy indulging in the disappointment, and for an unsaid period of time, you let loose and was soon, once again, engulfed by the profound feeling of his absence and the void in your heart.

But by the end of the day, you were not an Android and because of that, you failed to analyze the minuscule inconsistencies in your friend’s behavior. Perhaps fate had decided that the time when you would be blessed with refills of the gaps in your memory had yet to arrive. Perhaps fate had decided it would be best if the meeting between the both of you was the last in the blurry sea of memories. Perhaps you had forever lost his identity, and the chance for new memories to be created deemed futile.

At times when the clock struck twelve and when the moon rose proudly above the dark sky, you laid in bed, listening to the occasional sounds of fabric and comforter ruffling according to your restless tosses and turns, and as vigorous as your movements, your mind was tempestuous with indecisive thoughts and flashes of incorigible scenes before your eyes. Over and over again, you wondered and pondered about him, and whether he was dealing with the consequences similar to yours. Did he trouble himself as much as you did over the absence of one another? A thousand of questions risen and demanded to be answered but by the end of the day, a mystery and fruitless questioning were all they ever were.

Contrary to your expectations, your line of work refused you to dwell on seemingly pointless conceptions, and before you knew it, you were entangled with the police as one of the higher ups at the place of your work was accused of money laundering and scamming, and occasionally, you were called into for questioning. Despite the process being mentally and physically exhausting, you were intrigued by one of the Androids that was stationed to the case.

Brown eyes and brown hair that seemed so familiar to you, and yet, the icy blue eyes and bitter frown that looked so... strange to you, as if they were supposed to be something else— something different; perhaps it was the colour of the eyes or the way the corners of the eyes were sloped and the warmth or lack thereof from the lips. How could someone looked so familiar yet so peculiar to you?

RK900.

That was everything you knew about him, other than the fact that he worked alongside the police and was partnered with a man named Gavin Reed. So far you hadn’t made the attempt to gain some sort of answer to this mystery, and often at night, you would think otherwise. Maybe you should let curiosity take over your logical side once in a while.

Still, despite your nonexistent efforts, your eyes would often travel towards the direction of the wordless man standing beside his human mentor whenever you were bought into question. As sneaky as you thought you were, the Android was far more adept and skilled than you would have expected and had noticed your interest in him ever since day one, hilariously, but chose not to comment on the fact. That was, until one particular day when he seemed to make an abrupt decision out of nowhere to talk to you.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice deep as the ocean, smooth as silk and as cold as the Artic, one day just as you were leaving your work building. You may not know or may never know but he had been waiting for you hours long before the end of your work hour for some reason, and despite looking as composed as a man who has reached the highest level of understanding as life, he was as curious as you were. His feelings of interest and inquisitiveness were in contrary to what he was programmed to do; perhaps they were the result from being taught by his older model.

“RK900,” you replied quite dully although you would be lying if you said you weren’t shocked at his sudden appearance. The case involving your accused superior was over recently and there shouldn’t be any reason for the two of you to meet again, right?

“I... I noticed your occasional stares directed at me, Y/N,” he stated, sounding so bitter and cold towards the world yet quite nervous that he refused to look at you. After all, you were someone unique which he learnt from him. “I know I remind you of someone,” he continued, and as soon as he finished the sentence, your composure began to eat itself and you were, once again, disturbed and bemused.

“Connor. RK800. #313 248 317. Produced in August,3038. You met him months before the final Android Revolution,” he began, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you to check your response to the bombardment of information. Surely, from the way your lips quiver and hands tremble, he knew that you were starting to remember something. He could certainly thank himself for making the decision to come to you on that day out of his own will. Things were bound to end tragically but he thought that you at least deserved to be filled of the void in your memories and heart.

“The two of you bonded rather quickly and... things happened shortly afterwards,” he continued, referring to the time you fell in love with the Android first disregarding the situation and tension between the two races at that time. At this point, he was hesitant to continue since he knew what happened afterwards.

“I... I...,” you stuttered, desperately racking through your disorganized thoughts jumbled with recovering memories for something to say. Connor. Connor. Connor. RK800. The Android who evacuated you from the riot. The same Android who captured your heart with his corky and unoriginal attempts at jokes and adorable behavior unexpected from an Android of high caliber such as him.

“Ah... how could I forget him,” you laughed bitterly as you recalled the time you spent together with you tagging along him and Hank as an eager journalist. You remembered the way you two bonded and the amusing way he worried about the risks that came with being a journalist. Despite his concerns, you continued with the job and in the end, it was your foolish drive and carelessness that led you towards your demise; with you mortally wounded due to a failed attempt to photograph the confrontation between Marcus and the humans.

Sure, you were fond of the sweet memories that came first but you weren’t so certain about what was coming at the end. Your legs were wobbling like an earthquake was just beneath the very ground you stood on, so you had to take a deep breath and take a seat on a bench bellow a nearby tree. The man near you followed suit and sat awkwardly beside you, making sure to leave a generous quantity of space between you two. Although he knew how solemn and troubled you were, he was unsure on what to do; whether to act as himself and stay still or do something according to what he would have done.

“Blood,” you mumbled, desperately wiping the hot, stinging tears streaming down your face before covering your face with her hands, plopping your elbows down on your thighs. You finally remembered, and as much as your head throbbed painfully, the excruciating pain in your chest was something else. It was simply heart-wrenching and suffocating, as if you were buried 6 feet below underneath all the memories and pain, guilt and self-blame.

Blood. The sanguine red liquid was everywhere, as you recalled, and it was yours that leaking from the wound on your head from the collision before with the concrete ground. However, you wished and wished that it was only your blood there, but at last, your pleas and cries for help went unheard. You knew and remembered the weight on your body as you laid on the ground, barely conscious but sheltered and protected from the lifeless body above you. The cold, bitter blue liquid dripped onto you from the gunshot on his forehead, and before you knew it, the last thing you saw before you blacked out flashed before your eyes at a painfully slow rate.

“Oh god... please, no, please tell me it was all a dream,” you begged to no one particularly as you broke down once again. The pain of his absence and lack of final goodbyes devoured your mentality, and the guilt and blame on no one but you clung onto you with their malicious, poisonous long claws that dug deeply into your heart.

You hoped that his lifeless eyes were the last thing that you saw. You hoped that the reality was something different. You hoped... only if you hadn’t made the stupid decision that almost took your life... only if you had listened to him... only if he was alive now. Only if you could convince yourself that things didn’t turn out the way it did. Only if you could turn back time and... and save his life. So many only ifs and so much pain; it was almost unbearable; the feeling of having somewhat brought your beloved to their demise was damning, and you felt like you couldn’t ever forgive yourself for not paying heed to his warnings.

But most of all, you cursed yourself for having the audacity to forget almost everything about him. Perhaps you wouldn’t be suffering if you hadn’t learnt about him; however, you still felt it wasn’t right for you to forget someone who sacrificed himself for you and only you.

‘If he was only here,’ you told yourself, ‘I would tell him how much I love and treasure him and never let him go.’ Only that was impossible now that he was gone definitely. He wasn’t here anymore to tell you how much you mattered to him; he wasn’t here anymore to tell you jokes that he googled on his search engine; he wasn’t here to make you smile and laugh and cherish you. One moment he was here and the next, he was gone.

“I am so sorry... Connor,” you cried uncontrollably, wanting to rip your heart at this moment as it thumped painfully and rapidly within your chest which suffocated and strangled you from within. Your cries and screams resonated throughout the neighborhood as you grieved and grieved, and desperately wished for end to these mournful feelings.

“Y/N,” the man beside you whispered gently, reaching out to grab your hand tightly to try to reassure you. The LED on his forehead whirled into a brilliant yellow as several thoughts and memories flowed through his mind, but the most prominent emotion was sorrow and detachment as he knew that these memories didn’t belong to him. It had belonged to the man you had dearly adored and loved you. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you how his predecessor passed— by desperately transferring his memories into the system and screaming your name over and over again until his voice broke and distorted into that of a horror; slow and robotic and devoid of life.

“He would have wanted you to move on, Y/N,” he said before pulling you in for a hug, surprising yourself and himself as he was unsure if that action was based on his own will or Connor’s memories. Nonetheless, the two of you stayed locked in that embrace for a long time before the agony and despair in you began to subside. When you emerged from the hug, you were noticeably calmer yet still pained to the core.

“Thank you for coming here to tell me,” you said emotionlessly and numbly with a heavy sigh, staring at your own feet and feeling your nails digging into your palm as you tried to manage your composure.

“It’s alright... everything will be okay, Y/N.” He said with a smile that seemed like a rainbow after a heavy downpour for you. It was flamboyant and abundant of emotions and familiarity. You bit your lips at the sight as you felt tears threatening to fall once again. He looked so much like him and reminded you so much of him that it stung a bit.

At the end of the day, your final wish was to be able to meet him again one day, no matter the place. Even if the time spent together was transient, it was heavenly and you were grateful.

‘I love you, Y/N.

Love,

Connor.’

[nurtureournature]

How to feel more confident during menstruation (rebirth cycle)

I want to start off by saying that I first menstruated when I was 12-13 years old at my high schools bus lot and had absolutely no clue why there was blood coming out of my vagina. Mind, you I grew up in a household with just guys that don’t know anything about the functions of a “period.” I was uneducated, embarrassed, and ready for the bleeding to stop as soon as possible before anyone notices it.

Some of the things I knew at the time growing up learning about periods were mood swings, PMS, pain killer medicine/drugs, bleached tampons and pads, and being as stealthy I can when I’d be on my period at school trying to open the packaging of a tampon/pad. How embarrassing...I knew other girls at my school felt the same way. Guys on the other hand, would make fun of girls on their cycle.

Why? I’ll tell you why. Because of our belief system. What we grew up knowing is what we know. Being uneducated about something like a women’s cycle is okay. But when we’re belittling young girls/women who do bleed without knowing what it truly is, calling a cycle “disgusting”...that’s a problem. And that problem still lives on today.

My goal is to uplift and heal wounds that haven’t been healed spiritually, emotionally, and physically of the divine femininity and masculinity through spoken words and experiences that I’ve went through and can express that in a way where we all get an innerstanding of how can we balance certain things in our lives that’s an uncomfortable topic to talk about.

So how can us women feel more confident while we are menstruating?

Know that bleeding out of our bodies is nothing to be ashamed about. We all do it. People get cut, they bleed. Only difference is rebirth blood is a sacred time to cleanse, connect, and heal.

Try getting more physical with your blood! Things like wearing cloth pads to soak up all the blood and rinse the blood out is a way to be more hands on with your blood. Another thing is blood painting. You can collect your blood from a cloth pad or menstrual cup in a bowl mixed with water, get a canvas and paint brush and start painting what you feel.

Journal what’s going on during, before, and even after your cycle. Journaling is a powerful way to keep a visual representation of how to write in a flowing state.

Meditate! Meditating is a empowering time to observe what you feel and why you feel-as well as thinking. During our cycle we have a lot of emotions built up. Instead of being against our emotions, we have to learn how to be whole with them. It can be overwhelming and that’s okay. Take some steps out in nature, deep breathe in, and release all the tension inside of you. Repeat until you feel the synchronicities flow through.

I encourage women and men, young girls and boys to innerstand one another more. More deeply. We have become very disconnected with ourselves because of programmed separation of our femininity and masculinity.

Reblog to spread this awareness. I hope this helps anyone out here through different dimensions~

peace

[sgt-morgan]

The Parlor

Description: But what if we knew about the tattoos? The one who gave them? What if she was John’s lost love?

Background: I did a deep ass dive on the John Wick tattoos. I realized the ballerinas all had the same setup/ back piece structure, but they all had unique phrases and symbols. So here we go I guess, let me know if you want another.

Warnings: none, needles I guess, tattoos, this is just angsts fluff.

Russian: Moya Llyubov, Moy Svet = my love, my light

The tattoo parlor was a genius move. One or two blocks away from the Continental Hotel and consecrated by the high table it was a haven and an incredible employment opportunity for the assassin that wanted to be an artist, or for an apprentice who needed an income, or for those who wanted the benefits of the hotel without the pressure to stack bodies. The clientele always tipped, Gold Coins were the charge, and contracts were never to hard to attain. The Parlor was always hopping, and their best costumer was always willing to send them more clients. After all, the owner was one of there own.

Eva was by no means a small woman, she loved her curves, and every inch of them was covered in ink. Some done by friends, others by artists so talented that to buy a piece would be a bank breaker for any normal person, and some of them were done by her own hand. All of them, were beautiful. She always had her thick red hair pin straight and pulled back off of her face, she wore little or no sleeves at all times so she was always displaying her favorite pieces. Her blue eyes were piercing, filled with an intelligence that startled most, she had seen things, but her eyes also shown with a a joy that made men week in the knees. She was foulmouthed, crude ,and boisterous, always ready to laugh and fill a stupid request. Eva, was also deadly. Known also as the ‘Painted Lady’ Eva was a legend. She was know for killing small armies of men with ease and taking out big targets in record time. Eva was no force to be reckoned with and she enjoyed making sure everyone knew it, she enjoyed the attention. She loved to smile, always quick with a joke and easily entertained, she was a lover of the small things. The thing Eva loved best though, was her art. She lived for it, the feeling of the gun piercing the skin, the ink slowly filling up its canvas, the soft groans of pain, the permanency, the idea that every tattoo was a living piece of one of a kind art. Every new canvas an opportunity to make a statement in flesh. She was always searching for the perfect canvas. She knew who it was, but she never believed she’d get the chance to work on him again.

She did all of his work. And as far as she knew, he hadn’t gotten any another pieces since hers. The first time she was given the pleasure of inking his skin was the night he was officially ranked within the programming of the Ruska Roma, she was an apprentice in training to their tattoo artists at only sixteen , she did his praying hands. the first in the ranking system and arguably the hardest tattoo you had to get. The hands were the religious symbol choice of their class at the Roma, the center piece of his back work, and she detested them. Her worst work. He however, thought that it was a gift that she did them, because others, as he had heard, had turned out much worse and much more painful. She had been gentle and thorough, making sure the hands were detailed without causing too much damage to the skin so as to leave him in fighting condition. They didn’t speak, John was drinking, heavily, Eva still remembers the smell of the bourbon, the tense muscles under her finger tips. The light cursing when a line or some shading took to long. She finished and they went their separate ways. The next time she tattooed him was when he got his second ranking. The cross on his arm. It was a fairly standard procedure and just the same as last time she tried to give him the best work she could muster. This time when she worked on him, she noticed the supple pliancy of his skin, the way it took the ink with minimal protest, the way her hands were able to feel the bumps of scarred flesh in his new piece without it causing him to flinch in a way that would mess up her other lines as she continued to finish his piece. She admired every freckle, every scar, and even every bruise. The markings told a story and she couldn’t believe her work was adding to it. She wanted to know the stories. But it was over too soon.

She saw him around more after that, saw him in trainings, she was normally leaving when he was coming in, but he always seemed to be on guard. Always ready for a fight. She had seen him shoot, and she’d most notably seen him dance. He was good, very good. Strong, steady, graceful. He always seemed to float on air. In their line of work, that proved to be deadly. Then he disappeared. The Marines. Why he decided to join up? Eva would never know, or so she thought. The next time she tattooed him she did his flaming dog, the hell hound, a symbol of his patron animal as he moved farther in his Roma training. This time they spoke.

“Ah so I heard you’re a Marine?” She spoke softly, soothingly, as if speaking to a cornered animal. She felt if she spoke any louder she would spook him and would never get an answer.

“Yeah, specialty training and recruiting, I joined up.” He spoke quick, calculated. Never traveling farther than the point.

“Ah, I see, good on them for sending you, I’m sure you received some valuable training.” Eva sighed washing the excess ink from his skin.

“Indeed.” He nodded, pulling his shirt back on over his newly placed bandages, and buttoning it. Eva packed away her equipment and he spoke again. He couldn’t let her go this time without hearing that sweet voice talking solely to him. “You know, I request you specifically, I love your work.” Eva blushed at that, not knowing how to respond. “Be seeing you Eva.” He turned to leave.

“Wait! I never caught your name!” Eva exclaimed in a desperate attempt to make him stay. “ I’ve tattooed you three times and I never got your name.” She chuckled sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck.

“It’s Jardani... Or John, it’s up to you.” he said turning his head in her general direction so she could hear him clearly. She’d heard the name, and she knew that he was the same Jardani she heard called Baba Yaga. It clicked into place, and she shivered with the thought of his hardened body under her hands as she marked his deadly flesh. He went to leave when she didn’t speak. She frowned, displeased with his parting from her company. Then, she smiled, making a decision.

“Be seeing you... Dani.”

They spoke more often after that, He would go out of his way to talk to her, snagging her arm in passing, sitting with her while she sketched, Walking her to trainings. He would sneak into her room late at night just so they could talk, falling into a peaceful sleep when they could no longer hold their eyes open. They were as close to inseparable as possible at the Roma. She even let him watch her sketch his next piece.

“A lone wolf huh?” She mused as her pencil endeavored to shape the picture. “Can you howl then, Dani?” She smirked mischievously. She was always pushing him to lighten up, John didn’t ever seem to catch on to it though. He was always so serious.

“Would it make you happy if I did?” He said looking at her with his black hole eyes.

“Honestly? Yes.” She giggled looking up at him with sparkling eyes the mirth clear on her face. John couldn’t help it he chuckled a breathy through-the-nose chuckle and tilted his head towards the sky letting out the most believable howl he could.

“My word Dani!”The laugh that erupted from the redhead was gift enough for him. Then, a thought.

“Why Dani?” He questioned. He loved the nickname, made him feel less intimidating, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be intimidated by him. The redhead contemplated the question, the look of concentration deepening her eyes and creasing her brow as she continued to sketch out her task.

“Well, The Marines called you John, The Table called you Baba Yaga, and I decided that I called you Dani, you need a nickname that people don’t flinch at the sound of.” She nodded while still focusing on the pencil in her hand, “Needed one from a friend.”

That sentence melted him. One word from her, and he would have moved a mountain. A friend indeed. She finished her sketch and then etched it into his skin and he was gone again. They didn’t see each other for three years, but her smile haunted John’s memories. And the art that littered his body made him shiver whenever he caught a glimpse of it, and any time anyone would ask who did his pieces, he’d just smile and say “My girl did them.”

He didnt recall when he first started thinking of her as his, but he didn’t think she’d protest. That thought made him smile. He came home and he ranked out. He was to be contracted to the Tarasov family. He had good prospects little did he know, so did she. She was betrothed, rather against her will, to a member of the high table. She was terrified. She missed him, she didn’t think she had the right to, but she missed him, missed his face, missed his smiles, missed his eyes, missed his flesh. She missed her Dani. He came home and as the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder and hers ached for him, and his for her. He walked in to the room where she was to do his final piece and she wept. John held open his arms and she collapsed into them, drinking in his scent like a man in the desert drinks the water of an oasis. Was he her oasis? Was he a mirage? She didn’t know, she didn’t care. He was here, he was safe, and most importantly he was hers.

“John, they’re making me marry him.” She wept. “ I can’t John, I can’t.” His heart broke, her tears hammered at his sanity. He wanted to kill this man, this man that would be marrying his heart.

“Shh, Moya Llyubov, Moy Svet , you can.” He hated the words that he was forced to speak. He hated them with a passion. “I will hate it, I will miss you, but you can do this.” Her weeping slowed, her body running out of tears.

“John?” Her voice another jab at his heart, “what will we do?” She looked up at him with those big blue eyes he hadn’t realized he’d fallen in love with and he crumbled as he answered the response ripping his heart from his chest.

“What we must.” She nodded, her face hardening, her tears drying. He told her to pick the words he would have carved into his flesh and she complied. Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat. Fortune only saves the strong. He hoped she was right. They said their goodbyes. She looked into his sad eyes and hoped to find the meaning of life. Then they moved, lips finding soft lips, his hands on her face, hers fisted into the soft material of his shirt. Their first kiss and their final goodbye. They resigned to their fate of never speaking again, losing their love, their sanctuary that they had found in one another.

They parted, fully expecting to never see each other again. Then one day a stranger walked into the parlor, one man in a bloodied black suit. One with rage in his eyes. Eyes that cut to Eva’s core. The framiliar chocolate pools that she loved from long ago. Finally.

[zukadiary]

Beside the Foggy Elbe / Estrellas ~ Star Troupe 2019

First show of 2019! My home base in Japan is usually Kansai, but for the first time I’m in Tokyo for a lengthy stay. I saw Elbe/Estrellas twice in the theater plus the senshuuraku live view. Spoilers, because the ending of Elbe was one of my favorite things about it.

Beside the Foggy Elbe [Summary]

I caught Elbe quite late in the run, and most of the feedback I heard from talking to other non-Japanese fans beforehand was fairly negative, but I found it VERY enjoyable. Elbe is one of the most historically famous original Takarazuka works. While I haven’t seen more than clips and photos of the older productions, I was already familiar with much of the soundtrack, and I always love seeing and hearing classic Takarazuka elements live, especially as a relatively young fan coming in late in Takarazuka’s 105 year history. It’s a special kind of fun to be able to sit in the theater and sing along (even if only in my head) to a show I’ve never even seen. The story is most definitely dated, but I love the vintage-ness of it (if anything, I wish they’d pushed the aesthetics even more vintage). And because it’s an old classic, I was able to suspend my disbelief of the unlikely love story in the same way I can with old Hollywood musicals (is it believable that Dale Tremont falls in love with Jerry Travers three seconds after finding out he wasn’t actually Horace? No but I’m here for it). I also love that they don’t get together!! The first time I saw it, I looked at the clock when Margit and Florian began yelling for Karl on the docks, and went sort of wide eyed when I realized there wasn’t TIME for it to end any way other than heartbreak. I think it’s much more interesting that way.

Quick complaints out of the way first: while the show isn’t really hard to follow, I did find both Beni and Airi quite difficult to understand. Beni uses a very loud, slurred voice to play the foul-mouthed Karl, and while it’s in keeping with her character, I couldn’t untangle a lot of her words, even though they weren’t lines I’d find complicated if I read them. Airi put on a shrill voice that I also found difficult to understand. I get that her character is an ingenue to the extreme so it makes sense, but I still feel like she could have landed somewhere between that and her natural voice and been ok. Additionally, there is a parade in the beginning that I think was an UeKumi addition. I didn’t DISLIKE it, and I understand its usefulness because it’s a very top heavy show and the parade gives the secondary players a bit of fun extra spotlight, but it didn’t really fit the look or vibe of the rest of Elbe. 

I do think you need to like Beni and Airi to enjoy this show, because it is so top heavy (if you love them, I think this will be a really great show for you). I especially liked the role of Karl for Beni. Beni’s Karl was an extremely insecure person who disguised his self-doubt in brash mannerisms and generally poor behavior, which made his moments of sincerity very poignant. Since Beni is known more for her comedic roles than her serious ones, and sometimes seems to be questioned by fans re: her ability to be serious, I thought this really suited her in kind of a meta way. She leaned hard into the brashness because that’s more her strength, but for me she also nailed Karl’s vulnerable moments, and that made them sting extra because it felt like it was coming from a real place. I’m also kind of a sucker for the cross-social-class love story trope. Karl’s behavior for the most part is truly unattractive to the point where it can be hard to sympathize with him, but there are several scenes where you can feel his deep discomfort toward being amongst the wealthy, and how traumatized he is about his ex leaving him because he wasn’t rich enough, and Beni makes them hurt sooooo good (shout out to Otoha Minori who had the very small part of Karl’s ex but really helped succinctly convey that backstory in a way that impacted the whole show).

Margit is a hard sell for me because I don’t find her likable as a character, but I think Airi did a great job hitting the necessary notes. For the story to work, Margit has to be unhappy, but also sheltered, spoiled, frivolous, and naive enough to fall in love with someone she met in a bar at first sight just because he was a little nice to her and the polar opposite of the life she’s trying to escape. Airi made it plausible. She also plays the piano for real a couple of times (angrily!) and I was VERY impressed (Coto also does, but she can’t surprise me with unexpected talents anymore). I think Airi’s strength is sexier more mature characters and I hope she gets to flex that muscle in their taidan show, because in that sense Elbe left a lot to be desired.

As much as I think Karl suited Beni, Coto is the one who made me think it wouldn’t have been quite the same if they’d given Elbe to any current lineup other than Hoshigumi. The least believable part of the entire story is that Florian is too good. There are no men who are that good. Even for the not-men of our 夢の世界 it’s a stretch. But I completely believed that Coto was that good. I don’t even know what to say about her... she can do anything and it’s stupid. Muster up heartbreaking sincerity for a truly unrealistic character? Sure. Play the piano flawlessly while speaking? Why not. (And the way she brushed her coattails out of the way before seating herself at the piano bench made me feel A Way).

The newly inserted Tobias was a nice sendoff for Kai. Not quite as delightful and meaty a role as Kiroku, and not as strong of a goodbye present as Sho Fu Kan, but lovely nonetheless. Tobias was not inherently a remarkable character, but he was an excellent blank canvas on which Kai painted herself, making him cool, hot, and everyone’s big brother—all around lovable. Her costumes made NO sense (cowboy hat??) but she wore them so well I loved them all against my better judgment. Stage time dropped off pretty hard after Beni/Airi/Coto, but the scenes with the other sailors were my favorite, and Kai’s involvement in each was prominent enough (and CUTE enough) to make Tobias feel like a juicy role. She gets a lovely bridge solo toward the end, and fittingly leaves the ship crew to get married (to Mizuno Yuri/Karl’s sister), exiting separately in dramatic fashion to everyone else’s tears and well wishes. 

I found myself charmed by the supporting cast—including (especially??) the nameless lurkers of the background—more than usual. Was it the giant food props? Were they just exceptionally silly back there? I don’t know, but unfortunately the recording won’t illuminate them regardless. As for the named support, Mao Yuuki, Seo Yuria, Shidou Ryuu, and Amahana Ema made up the rest of the sailors with lines and stuff, and while there was barely anything for them to do, I (for reasons not entirely known) found Mao and Seo in particular extremely charming. Amato Kanon played a bratty screaming kid, the exact type of role I’d normally find annoying as hell, but she even managed to make HIM charming; she had a lot of very entertaining wordless interactions with some of the bigger players on the outskirts of various scenes while something else was happening in the middle. Mikkii used 5 of her 7 seconds of stage time prowling through the audience, and seeing her angry face advancing head on toward the gaijin seats was indescribably intimidating. The biggest surprise was I fell a little in love with Mizuno Yuri, who, to be fair, did not have to sing OR dance, but who did play a weird lanky adorably awkward country bumpkin with a stupid accent from Karl’s middle-of-nowhere hometown in a way that I for some reason could not stop watching. She, as Tobias’s bride, also bawled her eyes out on raku when the two of them ran off together. 

So far I still think Another World is the crown jewel of Benigumi, but I’d place Elbe second.

Estrellas

Seeing Estrellas was an odd experience because it got the New Year’s NHK broadcast, and I watched THAT before I saw it live—how often do you see a Takarazuka video BEFORE seeing the show live?? It’s my personal favorite Benigumi revue thus far. I fell in love with it pretty instantly, and interestingly I think a big part of that was the NHK cinematography, which combined with the song selection made it feel more like a concert or a FNS-style big televised music program. I found that fresh. It didn’t have QUITE that same vibe live, but still a good impact. I can see it being polarizing though; it’s very pop and not very Takarazuka at times, and I probably like it so much because I happen to personally like the song choices. 

Allowing for the fact that she was still performing very much within her own quirky style, Beni (up until Tokyo raku) seemed very on point to me, which I was glad to see; my last live Hoshigumi experience was Another World/Killer Rouge in Takarazuka toward the beginning of the run last year, and in Killer Rouge especially it seemed like she was being extremely cautious with her movements in a way that made me wonder if she was nursing or avoiding an injury. Every time I saw Estrellas though she danced full force. Airi had more than one sexy number to make up for Margit, most notably an all musumeyaku dance in the finale portion that I feel like I see pretty rarely from Hoshigumi. Beni and Airi’s duet dance was also VERY cute and very them.

Kai again got a lovely sendoff, a big long 3-song progression with perfectly chosen lyrics. The way she drank in the theater on the last day, like she was really trying to burn the image of the audience into her eyes, was SO much. 

Coto is stupid. She paints with her voice and that gets me real bad. There’s a solid handful of siennes in the top tier of vocals in Takarazuka, and while many of them are gorgeous singers, the only two I’ve heard play and emote with their voices the particular way I’m thinking of are Coto and Daimon. Her vocal control while she’s violently dancing is also astounding. She’s stupid.

Senshuuraku was an ordeal! Estrellas opened with Beni doing what I initially thought was some weird attempt at a sexy breathy thing, and then maybe thought she was trying not to cry, till it became abundantly clear that something bigger was wrong. She got hoarser and hoarser till some notes in “Tonight is What it Means to be Young” failed to come out entirely. She used her chuuzume ad lib time to apologize for her voice... sad, because that was the prime slot for cute and touching moments with the retiring actresses, but she was clearly too panicked and struggling to think of that. Then she explained during the curtain call that she broke her voice at the end of Elbe—and it must have been on the VERY last note, because the entirety of Elbe was COMPLETELY fine (I didn’t even notice a weird crack or anything at the end). I didn’t know you could break your voice that badly on one note, but I guess you can. She was very flustered and apologetic—also full on crying—though every curtain call, and while I can’t blame her for feeling remorseful I wish she’d dialed it back after the first couple of apologies and let the retiring actresses have their moment. But considering her state it was pretty remarkable that she powered through, and I hope she has a chance to recover before the next show.

I’ve lived through my share of Takarazuka retirements, including ones that turned a whole troupe’s vibe completely upside down, but somehow Kai’s feels unusually odd (I imagine Miya’s will as well). I think it’s gonna be a downer of a year. 

[spiffyworks]

Artist’s Software Surfing P1 - Sketching

SSSo recently, after finishing (an admittedly long-overdue) a piece, I decided to download a trial of the new Corel Painter 2019. I hadn’t used Painter since my old DeviantArt days (circa 2005) and wanted to see how it felt with more digital art-veteran hands. Loaded it up, started sketching my default doodle-muse and wow, that “Real 2B” pencil feels great. I loved it so much, and wondered why. 

That’s the story that is spawning this weird personal series of Software Surfing. I wanted to write little notes to future-me on how it felt using my favorite sketching tools in each program I have, and after the sixth one I thought it might be a good idea to check out inking, colouring, painting, etc. and writing those down as well.

So I’m writing this series for myself, but making it available in case anyone else can benefit as well. Thanks for sticking with the intro, let’s get into it.

Artist’s Software Surfing P1 - Sketching Artist’s Software Surfing P2 - Inking Artist’s Software Surfing P3 - Colouring Artist’s Software Surfing P4 - Painting

There are many ways to sketch, but this is specifically the classic “pencil” or “drawing” form using the tools with the program’s default settings.

As an introduction, this is my doodle-muse, Cloey. She was my first original character, and though I don’t usually share my anthro art on here (I know that’s not everyone’s thing) I do have a separate blog for that stuff that you can find here if you’re so inclined. If you’re familiar with Artgerm (and you should be), she’s basically my Pepper.

Corel Painter’s “Real 2B”:

The one that started it all. The pencil just GLIDES, and I’ve always loved when you can tilt a pencil tool and it will shade just like tilting a real-life pencil. The only thing I want from a program now is to be able to bind touch to blenders so I can use my finger to smudge-blend the scribbling. (I tried drawing that fist so many times /fume)

Likes: Tilt functionality, line width variance, stroke speed, eraser Dislikes: Rebinding Rotate Canvas tool was a pain. I like Shift+Space, and that key combo is reflected in the shortcut panel, but it just continued to pan. Never worked for me, and rotating or flipping the page quickly is crucial for my sketching process. Also sometimes if I quickly resize the eraser and mash it down to use, it won’t detect any input.

Photoshop, Kyle Webster’s “2B” & “Animator Pencil”: 

**Disclaimer** Firstly, I’ve used Photoshop for over 15 years now, and it’s a great digital art tool, but for drawing and painting I find it’s sorely lacking. It’s slow, expensive, and unintuitive. That being said, there are some things this program does exclusive to others so I’m still clinging to it (desperately) and while I would definitely recommend something else for budding digital artists, I have to supplement my misgivings by purchasing additional plugins and tools, such as the famed Kyle T Webster’s Ultimate Megapack for Photoshop (

which is now complementary with Photoshop CC, damnit

). Unless otherwise noted, all the brushes I use in Photoshop will be from that pack. **End Disclaimer**

Following off the heels of Corel, I remembered messing around with another “2B” (which btw is my personal favorite traditional pencil to sketch with) in Kyle Webster’s Drawing Box in Photoshop. It felt a bit similar, but with no tilt functionality and it really lacked the chunky-thickness (a scientific term) I enjoyed with Painter’s pencil. I switched to my favorite (and the favorite of MANY digital artists btw) his “Animator’s Pencil”. So chunky, but the ability to shade lightly... It’s really a fun brush to use for sketching digitally. Still one of my absolute favorites.

Animator Pencil Likes: Line width variance, texture fills in and scales perfectly Dislikes: It’s a photoshop exclusive, a program that for some reason you can’t bind shortcuts to whatever you please, takes forever to load, and WAY too often suffers input lag while drawing. Also no tilt shading, :’( aw

Paintstorm’s “Textured Pencil” & “Pencil Tilt”

As a bit of an aside, I love Paintstorm, Paintstorm is what got me back into digital drawing and painting after doing 3D and game design for 7 years. I bought it for the very low price of entry (2 licenses for $30) and was impressed by its ability to customize literally anything in the program. You can create your own tool/brush boxes, bind any shortcut to any key combination, and every single brush tool adjustment comes with the most customization control of any program I’ve come across since Photoshop set the bar way back in the day. Out of the box a lot of the basic brushes have that old OpenCanvas or PaintTool Sai feel, but more recently they’ve added some very textured default brushes you can play around with. It’s also hands-down the FASTEST program I’ve ever worked in. I highly recommend giving it a try, it’s great for learning and experimentation. I grew a lot working in Paintstorm.

The Textured Pencil is a fun sketching brush, you can get as think or thick as you’d want and it keeps a clean outline. The Pencil Tilt really blew my mind the first time I used it. YOU CAN SHADE! It was the first time I had ever seen a program do that. The tilt has a great texture, fantastic control, and gets just as dark as you’d need. I’d recommend using them both, the Textured Pencil for a cleaner sketch, and the Pencil Tilt for something more expressive or loose.

Krita’s Ink-Tilt & “Sketch”:

I’ll be honest, I have almost no experience in Krita despite having downloaded and given it a try back in 2014. It was a hell of a time to figure out how to rebind my usual shortcuts (flip horz, rotate canvas). I couldn’t even rebind colour grab/eyedropper. Yikes. I opened up the “Sketching” brush box and there were only two options, made worse as one was a sketch pen... That lacked the flexibility of ballpoint. 

First I grabbed the pencil dubbed “Sketch” and was bewildered why the size of the circle was so large compared to the mark it made. Very confusing. Feeling intimidated, I abandoned it immediately to try out the “ink_tilt” (which by the way there’s no tilt functionality??) and hated it. I reluctantly went back to the pencil and just started trying to make marks. Wow. It’s weird, but surprisingly fun. You have to be willing to relinquish a LOT of control, but the shapes the brush makes while moving and tilting during a stroke can yield some really interesting and suggestive shapes. I would say great for early concepting or making something really loose and expressive. Fun to play with, but not really practical.

Clip Studio Paint’s Real Pencil & Rough Pencil

I’ve been wholly immersed in CSP since I purchased the program back in late 2016. It goes on sale often, so you can pick up a nice fully featured program for ~$35. I’d had my eye on it for a while and still really want to get into self-publishing comics, so I picked it up, bought a couple of brush packs for it (it’s pretty lacking in default painting tools) and I’ve been illustrating in it ever since. The brush creation isn’t as fun as Paintstorm, but brushes are quite customizable. I usually like to use the “Rough Pencil” if I want just a little texture and line variance, or the “Darker Pencil” for something cleaner. Trying to be different, I just jotted out a couple heads in ones I don’t normally use, the Real Pencil and Design Pencil. The Real Pencil has a lot of texture, but for some reason in CSP the textures don’t seem to scale with the brush, so I tend to avoid using it in most cases. I hate the design pencil, I just could never get dark enough. I guess that’s probably the point, though.

Well, that definitely wraps this digest up. I feel refreshed after trying out a lot of new digital sketching brushes. I was really reminded of how much I enjoyed drawing in Paintstorm. I hope someone other than me found this useful or otherwise inspiring! Sometimes, especially if you’re stuck in some art blockage, it’s a good idea to try something new, and for me digitally that’s hopping programs and trying new brushes.

I’m thinking about doing inks, colours, and painting at some point. Let me know if anyone’s interested in those! I’m planning on doing some for myself eventually, but I might expedite a post if anyone is interested. o/ Take it easy,  y’all.

Artist’s Software Surfing P1 - Sketching Artist’s Software Surfing P2 - Inking Artist’s Software Surfing P3 - Colouring Artist’s Software Surfing P4 - Painting

[hnd1bjordimoleromora]

Portfolio 1 Evaluation

Who are you?

This project was very exciting because it was open to interpretation. After deciding the story the shoot and planning carefully what materials and equipment would use, I still had to change some aspects due to weather conditions and needing to operate camera and lighting equipment while being the model. However, I am proud that the final product is quite similar to what I planned and how much problem solving skills were used.

Object: For my book shots, I had to wait for a dry day to make sure that the books were safe. I finally took the shot one early morning in my parents' home. They have a lemon tree which have low hanging branches where I could easily place the books. 

I put the tripod in the lowest height to and pointed the camera upwards with a very wide angle to exaggerate perspective and bring the illusion of high tree. I used a silver reflector to bounce back light and fill the shadows in.

I shot the image tethering the camera to Lightroom and used a Light meter to get the right exposure.

Self portrait For the image taken at home, it went exactly as planned. The key light was a speedlight and used a clipboard as a gobo, then two speedlights with gels were used as fill lights, and were bounced off the ceiling to diffuse them. To get the angle, I use a boom light stand as a tripod to position the camera just above the sofa. I shot the camera with an programable trigger and tethered using Lightroom to have a visual of the image.

Location I did an initial plan  included two options: one involved tying myself to a tree and use speedlights. It was hard to find a dry day and ended up shooting while I was visiting Spain. However, I even though it was dry, it was too windy to put any lights on, especially being alone and tied to a tree. The wind however helped to keep the wool I used to tie myself to the tree flowing.

The other option was using an image of shooting a tent. For this, in one weekend camping get away I brought fairy lights to illuminate the tent and brought my old camera because we were close to a beach and didn't want to bring my best equipment. I pre-focused on the tent during golden hour and shot 30 second images during the blue hour.

Final canvas After bringing all the images together, I realized the tonalities were not very consistent and using two images of myself would make the lines on what is location and what is selfportrait not very clear. Finally, with Iain he had the same opinion that it would work great if the book images had blue tones. In post processing, I didn't a nightime conversion, but the books looked lost. Then I decided that it would look better if the images were glowing, so I did a colorized yellow version of the layer and painted using blur for the glowing light from the books, then another layer to simulate how the light would affect the surroundings with opacity 50% brush and finally painting rim lights on the edges to make it as believable as possible. I am very happy with the look of the image, it's clean, yet it has a few layers. I also find it represents my personality well and it's open to interpretation.

Catch me if you can For catch me if you can I contacted a few sports event, some answered with vague proposals, so I finally decided to shoot with Llers FC, speaking directly with the manager in the framework of a commission. I shot a Women football match, but after looking at the images I realized that they were not good enough for the brief and learned that it was better to shoot in Shutter priority mode when the light is not continuous and higher ISO, to follow the ball and predict where the action will happen, to be concise and shoot bursts of 3 or 5 images to avoid buffer issues, and try to go from wide to zoom in as the action progresses. Basically it was an excellent practice that helped me interiorize how to capture the action and focus on composition. The second shot was for a men's football match and it was very challenging because the light was changing and had some storms in the middle of the match. I took just over 2000 frames and editing was a bit hard. I made a checklist of things they needed to have to fulfill the brief and be the best quality with the notes I took from Andy Buchanan's talk: They should fulfil the brief: panning, freezing motion and different focal lengths used. In action images, the ball should be present, and it should be moving or in the air to bring context and movement. Images should be sharp were the action is. In both action and reaction images, the faces should be visible.

I did two canvases, the first one I wasn't very happy because I realized some of the images where slightly out of focus or too busy. So I finally went for one that was cleaner. I am quite pleased with the result, especially taking into account I used a regular telephoto zoom lens with a maximum aperture of 6.3 with a very slow AF system.

Clean white For clean white I decided to shoot something with a lot of movement, that would give the impression of flowing. I thought that would be a good challenge since when using film in such an unpredictable technique would require planning. After trying with the digital camera, I made a note of what hair movements would bring the best results and when the shutter should be pressed. I realized it worked best prefocusing the camera where the eye would be when the shutter would be released. To get the right exposure, the light meter was essential. Taking different readings in different areas helped a lot to predict the uniformity of the background while the modelling lights were useful to see were the light was falling and how adjusting the light positions would bring uniformity. I also realized that the histogram that we see on the back of our cameras is based on the jpeg conversion, so it was better to keep the jpeg conversion as neutral as possible. For the darkroom, I struggled quite a bit to get my prints right. Being FB paper, I had issue gauging how pure white and blacks look before the paper dries. I also realized that this paper needs to be handled with extra care. Some of the prints had some minor dust spots from the negative, which it's also something I need to improve.

Seeing the light For seeing the light we went to the botanical gardens and asked strangers permission to take their portraits. Planning the composition and light was helpful to avoid wasting the time and trying not to rush the shot and concentrate on taking the portrait worked best. For the shots in the botanical garden, I took an image from an American tourist who was visiting Scotland because she had roots in here. We chatted while taking the image so her expression is relaxed. I used diffused light from the glasshouse and used a white reflector and leaves to fill in shadows. The leaves brought a green colour cast which I corrected on Photoshop, as well with some small Frequency Separation to smoothen transitions between shadows and highlights. The rest of three shots were taking in a 1 hour window in Spain. They are relatives of my partners. I shot in a very bright day at 12 o'clock. For the man's image, I shot against the sun in a park and  turned the reflector as a key light. For the lady, she was sitting in her balcony and used a flag to block direct sunlight, making a shade and bringing an image with no contrast. The image of a girl was shot using a diffusing material and the kicker light was achieved by placing her close to a white wall with direct sunlight. 

[comradecrossing]

hi do you have any tips/recs for someone who’s just starting new leaf? i had it a long time ago but i stopped playing, and now i want to start playing again but i don’t remember it well 🙈

Hi! This might be long but! When I restarted this last time I was worried it would get boring real fast like with my first save, so I planned out as much as I possibly could ahead of time.

Think of a theme that makes you happy! Do you love witchy/fairy things? A specific color? maybe a season? particular villager animal? Aliens??? If you can figure out a theme you can build around (and it can be ANYTHING) then you will have much more confidence when you first step foot in your new town!

Now I’m gonna use my town as reference, so, I really like the Witchy/Fairy aesthetic and I knew immediately thats what i was going to do. I’m bad at town names, but i like Pokemon and remembered they have a fairy town, so I looked it up and got my name and figured why stop there? That’s how Laverre City became one of my sole inspirations for my town. I was inspired to restart because of hackers so even though I cant hack, I think about things I might like to do, or really want to do when/if i ever can and i have some big ideas lol im so sad. So ultimately i settled on a fall themed town (not perpetual fall but looks best in fall and the dreamcode will be of the town in fall) with lots of pink cosmos and regular saplings to give off a resemblance to Laverre City :)I then looked at a lot of forest and dreamy type towns to get some inspiration like mushroom rings, layout ideas, and items or PWPs to use. I also checked sites like animal crossing wikia to make a list of PWPs I might like in my town and chose 30 possible options (you can only build 30) and check the space requirements.

Once I start for real with a vague idea of where I want to put things I look at all the maps available and if they don’t have specific traits i want (secret beach, desirable town tree location, diving cliff, ponds in places that wont get in the way of projects and landscaping ideas, good spot for the cafe, etc) I restart until a map comes up that I like. Once I arrive in town its time to check my native fruit and rock locations and make sure its up to my standards, and if a resident is important for you to have/not have make sure to check the map too!

Once you get a town you’re happy with and you’ve found the perfect place to call home its time to get serious >: |It’s time for your first shovel and axe.Now, I have always been anti-axe in previous games but this last save changed me. I got a hold of that first axe and chopped down every tree that wasn’t a southern cedar tree! (southern cedars are only possible at the start! If you plant them they’ll only grow in the North, thats the top half of your town.) Now your town will feel barren at first and this is the ugliest stage but also one of the funnest -imo- so lets open up your patterns and get started. Now that you have a blank canvas use your green & blue tiles to signify trees/bamboo and bushes, you can even redesign it and write “T” or “B” respectably and start laying them out. You can also use the Yellow to lay down where you want PWPs (make sure to surround two spaces further than the project requires. a 3x3 fountain should look more like a 5x5 area to ensure no one moves directly next to where you want to build). You should have lots of fruit piled up (remember to stack them) so you can layout bush tiles and plant fruit if you’d rather have a better idea of how its gonna look. I planted all my peaches and would later go back and replace certain ones with new fruit i acquired. Its good to have a “this is all a process” mindset because it will take a while to get your town done even if you time travel, but thats good! because the game is all about making your dream town!

So now you have a good amount of the town planned out and probably have some ideas of what to do next. The next few days will be spent checking out how things are growing and making sure you planted things in the right spots. if there’s anything you’re not liking - change it! Your town Your rules!

Now while you are waiting for things to grow and get pretty its time to gather aaaaaallllll the flowers you can find and organize them in a large free space so they are all diagonally touching (XXXX), this way you can get hybrids early on :)Make sure they are the same breed and check hybrid guides so you know which colors work best to make the hybrids you most want and make sure to water them everyday as they will wilt if you don’t have the beautiful ordinance. Hybrids are good to have for trades when you dont have much money.

After all this you should be off to a pretty good start. Try to keep in mind villagers you would like to have and try to make friends online or IRL that you can adopt from (I always post when i have some one leaving and who I am hoping to replace them with and I usually get an offer fairly quickly, even for villagers I was desperate to get out. No matter who they are someone likes them :)) But if your town is set up in a way that you’ll be devastated if your dreamie moves in that one perfectly made up spot, it might be a good idea to plot set &/ reset.Plot resetting is when you make a *NEW* character save to check and see if anyone moved in overnight, and more importantly, if they moved in an undesirable place. If this happens restart and select the new save option until the villager plots in a spot you like. Once they do that build your tent somewhere and save quit. This will make the new residents spot permanent and then you can select the new save once more and delete their home. This could take quite a while if you have lots of “open” space. “Open Space” is how I refer to non-tiled/pwp or house occupied areas and the way I go about this is covering my town in about 75% tiles and spacing out pwps to where there are as few places houses can plot in as possible. Houses wont build over tiles and will plot at least 2 spaces away from other buildings, rocks and projects and one away from clifs and ponds/rivers. They dont care however if there are trees, bamboo, items, bushes, or flowers so be sure to lay out tiles in any place at risk to being plotted on. I refer to this as “Plot Setting” as you can make 3x3 empty plots you surround with tiles which will help villagers know where to plot. If you do a good job and plot everything out just right, you’ll never have to worry about someone messing up your hard work.

Now here’s the kinda sucky part of ACNL and that is The Limitations.Annoying programmed rules that seem to only get in the way such as the 2-space rule between pwps/buildings. This can mess up your aesthetic a lot and sometimes you will have to completely replan things due to a small fact you may have overlooked or not noticed and suddenly your garden isnt looking right so im gonna name off the biggest hassles and how I have gotten around some of them.

Bush + tree + bush: You can line up 12 trees/bamboo and bushes in a line. This works both straight and diagonally. only 12. Now you can leave gaps in some places that will reset the count or do intricate designs like one cedar in the middle of 4 bushes, a line of bushes with trees spaced out directly behind, a pattern of bushes and chopped bamboo, etc get creative. Visiting others towns or looking at pics people post can help you get lots of ideas. Bushes can touch each other but trees & bamboo still have the one space between rule.

PWP 2-space rule: now I’ve already mentioned this a few times but this rule is always the one that I seem to forget when planning. YOU NEED TWO SPACES. I cant tell you how many times i have planned project locations weeks in advance only to not be able to lay them out as i wanted because I got the space requirement wrong or only left one space between other objects :/

Beach Rules: You may have seen cool towns with pwps, cedar trees and hibiscus bushes scattered around their beach and Ive got some bad news; Those are hacked towns. The only thing that can be planted on the beach naturally is coconut and banana trees, flowers, and clovers. Nothing grows on the beach, not even weeds. No pwps can be built there either, even though it was initially programmed to be possible. I currently use the space for hybrid breeding since i have no space to elsewhere ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tear Down and Build Up: I will say though that even though only maybe 15% of my original plans came to life, my town looks way better than i had ever imagined it would. Don’t be afraid to tear things down and try out different locations or setups you might figure something out that looks amazing compared to your original plans.

Finally, while you can participate in the Happy Home Ratings, you dont have too. Decorate how ever the flip you want. Find new things to do everyday as the game can get old fast and you might get temped to Timetravel (which isnt a bad thing if thats what you want to do, but be careful you dont lose your villagers/flowers! Even though I have the Beautiful ordinance, I water all my flowers incase they pop out a hybrid. I try to earn all the badges, I visit dreamtowns for inspiration, redesign areas of my town, farm PWPs, make patterns, try hunting down items to decorate my house with, etc, this is another area where having a theme can help as you will find inspiration easier, and make you feel more immersed like you’re playing an RPG.

I’ve gone on a lot here and I have more to add but I’ve spent over an hour typing this, but let me know if you have any other questions or need clarification on anything :) I’m not gonna add pics rn but if you need photo reference send another message and I will address it separately and add it here later.

Now heres a bunch of links to help you get invested:MoriBD - A catalog of every in-game item and an option to make a wishlistHybrid Guide - By @nooklingPWP GuideVillager Adoption Further Info on Plot ResettingPWP Farming Towns/interiors I found inspirationalSome QRsHacking info (if youre interested)How to upload your screenshots & Make your screenshot pretty!

Pick the right face when you startOnce you get the QR reader (talk to sable 7 days) you can use these

Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help :)Just putting it out there too, I am always happy to help people get whatever they want/need for no cost whether it be fruits, bamboo, mushrooms, items, hybrids, etc, I will always do what I can to help you out, whether you’re just starting or on your 5th year.

[uniformbravo]

me trying to make a gif part 2 (thrilling finale, buildup ver.)

ok good news and bad news: good news being withheld for Spoilers (not that it’s that hard to guess anyway lol), bad news explained first bc, chronologically, it is first

so yesterday i mentioned in the tags of that post that i had seen that krita has an animation feature so i was gonna try importing the frames into that and then exporting it as a gif. easier said than done, as it turns out

i started by opening the file i made yesterday with 62 layers as the frames and importing that into krita, which worked fine (i didn’t know you could actually open .psd files in clip stuido ((this typo is so fucking stupid it made me laugh so im leaving it)) and krita, so that’s pretty neat, i wonder if it works the other way around too) but i ran into problems when i tried to convert those layers into frames in an animation. because, like, the layout of the program has the layers displayed in one tab, and the animation timeline in another, like so:

(do u like how im using pictures now, i thought of that yesterday after i published the other post and realized hey, visual reference would probably make my plight a lot easier to understand!! so enjoy these educational diagrams from now on)

so my goal was to get the frames from the layers into the timeline, and i still don’t know if i did it right bc lbr krita is not very intuitive at all,,.,, i mean i watched a video tutorial abt how to animate in krita which was v helpful (it’s the one by jesse j james on yt fuckin SHout out) but it was about animating from scratch, not importing an animation you’ve already done elsewhere

so like, the way krita’s animation thing works, from what i could piece together as i bumbled my way around w/ it, is that each layer in the layers tab is a separate timeline in the,,, timeline tab

i want them all to be in the same timeline, not separate ones, and there’s no way to combine them in the timeline tab bc doing that just overwrites whatever layer you’re pasting it down onto, and also if you define the number of frames for that timeline (62 for this project) it just puts the single image of that layer for all of the frames instead of just one of them, so you’d have to go through and delete all the other frames you don’t want it to be, which would be such a fuckin pain

so i found a workaround, which is so tedious that it can’t be the right way to do it, but basically i started w/ layer 1 and defined 62 frames & then emptied frames 2-62, like this

(that blue box is the frame, btw, even tho it says 0, which actually kind of annoys me like why doesn’t it start the first frame on 1????)

from there i went up to layer two and selected that in the timeline, but for some reason the frame doesn’t show up automatically?

& i couldnt fuckin figure out how to make it into like, an Official Timeline Layer or whatever tf bc like, u see on layer 1 how theres that little lightbulb-looking icon on the right? that’s for turning on onion skin which only applies when you actually have frames with things drawn on them, so basically layer 2 in the layers tab has a drawing but in the timeline it doesn’t?

i didn’t find out what the actual reason for this is or how you’re /supposed/ to make the frame appear in the timeline, but what i did was right click on layer 2′s timeline & select “create blank frame” which magically made the frame i want appear

but it’s on top of the layer 1 frame, and i want it to be the frame after. also it’s still in a different timeline. this is the only easy fix in this whole damn process, u can literally just click & drag the frame from layer 2 to layer 1 and put it wherever u want on the timeline

and then u just delete layer 2 and that’s it, frame transferred!! then i just had to do that for 60 more layers and after [unspecified amount of time but it was a fuckin while ok] my timeline looked like this!

(the gaps near the end are held frames, to save me time so i didn’t have to copy a bunch of frames that were exactly the same)

krita is great because as far as i know ur animation can have an unlimited number of frames, at the risk of your own pc’s processing power, which is a definite upside to SOME expensive art programs i know (clip studio, i’m talking abt csp) and u can pick the frame rate too (cough photoshop elements 5.0 even tho u dont technically have an animation feature & it’s a miracle u can even make gifs at all) so once i finally got all the frames situated all nice and in order like on the same timeline, playing it was great! played at the right speed, looped perfectly, it was a dream come true right

well, time to export it as a gif

ha

haha

hoooo oo  o

so u got 2 options for exporting ur animation, u can either hit “export,” which lets u save it as different file types, one of which being gif, or you can hit “render,” which gives you gif and video options

well

i tried export first, bc that seemed like a good idea, but the “””gif””” it made was distinctly not a gif, despite its claim to be one?? this is what i got:

notice: 1. it is not moving, and 2. the black bars to the sides?? those are supposed to be transparent. they’re transparent in the file i made so why didn’t they register as transparent in the export, when gifs have transparency capabilities??

so That was some real live bullshit but i still had the “render” option, right? export was wrong, so rrender must be the correct option to go to that will produce the results i am wanting to see produced in front of me like a silver dinner platter with a correctly functioning gif under the lid, that’s what i want to see and “Render Animation...” is gonna Give me that silver platter righWRONG ok look at this shit rn ok Look

it says GIF it says it RIGHT THERE right??? right?????? then WHY

?????????????

and it also gave me all This bullshit

like did i ask?? did i fucking ask???? i already have all the individual frames why do i need even M o re i mfjgjgk

((rationally ok yea thats v useful for if ur making the animation in krita and want to export the frames to use elsewhere, but like uhhh 1. again, they’re not transparent & 2. i should have the option of saying i don’t want these??? bc *meme voice* i don’t want these)

so in the end i could find NO correct method of exporting animations as a gif in krita bc every ooption that says gif is fuckign LYING to ur face there are NO gifs in krita, aliens made the progam who looked at gifs and went “hmm i thikng this is how a gif works “ and just made jpegs instead but somehow got on the computers good side and got it to lie for them about it being a gif so thats why it says gif on the file still even tho its not a gif illimati confinr

so what is the conclusion to this? well i said there was good news too, and this is the portion where i divulge that sweet nectar (i type dthis 2 seconds ago and @ me what the fuck)

so after wasting a good 2 hours trying to figure out krita i gave up and watched some good old [youtuber name redacted bc what if it shows up in search & ppl see this dumbass post in there but it rhymes with fjackfsepticfeye] to relax into accepting my fate that i’ll never be able to upload my animations to tungle except in poor quality loopless video form, making me into a laughing stock on my own art blog, but THEN i had a stroke of genius, in my Brain

so if u read yesterday’s post u might remember that flipnote studio, the animation program i use on my ds, to animate, has the option to export files as gifs, both animated and sequential (meaning either as one fully animated gif or each individual frame separately), which is super convenient, but as i mentioned yesterday, any time i tried to open the folder with those files on my laptop, it crashed immediately

WELL today i thought “hey, how about instead of opening the folder in the sd card when it’s plugged in, how about i copy that folder from the sd card to my flash drive, and try to open it there, in case it’s the card’s hardware that’s causing the problem, not corrupted files”

so i tried that and it FUCKING WORKED THANK GOD GLORY HALLELUJAH

so now instead of spedning A THOUSAND YEARS trying and failing to force art programs to bend to my will i can just export the animations straight from my ds and drag them onto my computer Just As God Intended oh GOD im so fucking happy

here’s the gif in the end, i’m gonna post it to my art blog too but this is the Green Version bc i animate in green bc of some default settings in flipnote that i got used to, plus it makes me feel like i’m just sketching so nothing really has to be finalized so i’m comfortable while i work, and also it’s just nice ok it’s a Nice Green

(there’s a few frames at the end that are like the extra scraps from while i was working dw i got rid of those in the final version that i’m posting to my art blog later. also i added my blog url to that one too it’s aaaaaall good)

the only downside to this method is that i can’t change the canvas size to be 540px wide to fit with tumbrl s image dimensions but whatever i can just post them in a text post and fix the html to display it at its original size instead of the resizing bullshit tmurbl pulls constantly ugh. anyway it works great on desktop but it’s inevitably gonna look like shit on mobile no matter what i do *Big Ass Shrug*

anyway thats the end of my success story uhh i can’t make the like comment & subscribe joke again bc i already did that in the last post so like bye i guess thanks 4 watchign & have a great day i’ll see u in my next fvideo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYob4uDjEKI&t=0s

(^that’s my outro music)