#oooh to commission artists I admire is just so!!!!!

[sketchy-tour]

✨DANDY COMMISSION APPRECIATION POST✨

Of course, being commissions I bought, none of these lovely beautiful pieces are by me. Credits (in order) @frillsand @weevmo @lanlishiba @parrotparfait @kandavers

I am!! GONNA attempt to gush about all these pieces without devolving into keysmashes or screams but like. A. AA. AAA. I was gonna say "yall have no idea how annoying I am about Dandy" but honestly you do. You all do because I shake my silly puppet oc around CONSTANTLY.

ANYWAY I JUST!!! AUGH! ALL OF THEM MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!! The fact I get to see Dandy in art styles I love and adore around the fandom fills me with a joy I cannot even DESCRIBE to you!! OOH I JUST!!! I love them. I love these pieces. I stare at them all the time and now I'm rattling them all around at you guys!!!!! LOOK!!! LOOK AT THESE LOVELY LOVELY PIECES RN AND CHECK OUT THE ARTISTS!!!!!

[lemontines-writing-corner]

wally darling x TV head! reader oneshot

authors note: wally darling belongs to @/partycoffin!

Quick summary: You’re a fanatic about the culture of vaporwave that your whole wardrobe is literally 1980’s-2010’s internet style more bright neon like clothing. Even your room is so vibey! Average regular person who explored the Welcome Home Website until you spotted something odd…

You honestly lived a normal life. Spend your time working as freelance artist with a vintage semi modern like aesthetic, mix of three actually. 80’s, 90’s and early 2010’s, it peaked your interests with internet culture, how it all started and began.

Everyone always see you either walking out of the 80’s, or some other days the 90’s, or the 2010’s! Everyone probably knows you have an interesting fashion taste, but that’s because you like being colorful!

When you finished the last of your commissions, you decided to chat with your online friends as they recommended you to check out a website they found.

you: what is this website?

⭐️ aster_diaster ⭐️: idk I found it on the Reddit forum, some puppet show forgotten and there it’s a restoration website. I thought you might like it ;P 🌀🌀🍎🍎

you: oooh !! I’ll definitely check it out 😁 thanks !

Without any hesitation you clicked on the link and was introduced with a puppet sitting on the rock, you thought nothing of it as you smiled admiring the art and layout of this website. You didn’t think much of looking at the clues, because you thought it was just a website. Your internet friend didn’t give a in depth construct about it. So your initial thought was a forgotten puppet show restoring all its lost media.

“I do hope there’s going to be lost episodes releasing”, you mumbled as you scrolled through the guest book, adorned by the drawings and submissions people sent. You yawned and clicked off the website and decided to open up youtube to play something what YouTube has given to you the first song that came up was Do Ya Like x Resonance

Just as you were about to login for Pinterest to look for inspiration and save a few pins to have an idea to draw something, a notification popped on the right side of your laptop.

⭐️ aster_disaster ⭐️: 🍎 voywex. try replacing it at the end of the link from the website I showed you 🌀:)

You: oh alr-

what’s with the weird emoji uses???

⭐️ aster_disaster ⭐️: nothing much. Ha. Ha. Ha. Im waiting 🌀🌀🌀👁️

You rolled your eyes thinking they’re just playing with you, “tomfoolery” you muttered to yourself as you clicked on your history and clicked back to the website, “this is gonna be a rickroll I swear.”, or so you thought.

Upon typing the letters you were greeted with a pair of eyes staring right through your soul and told you to be quiet, then it blinked as it’s eyes then showed the two spirals. You were about to click it off as it typed on the text box quickly, “wait! Don’t go please!”, you were honestly scared but his eyes were hypnotic, the spirals started to pull you in as the spirals expanded.

You didn’t remember a single thing. Not one thing at all, but all you heard was a voice. “see you soon neighbor~” .

You suddenly woke up in the middle of the woods, hyperventilating you touched your chest and checked your pulse, you looked around to notice that everything is so colorful a bit too unreal. “I must be tripping…” you said to yourself as you stood up not even realizing how odd you looked.

“Maybe I should…explore the place?”, you started walking down the pathway as you saw a ray of houses the only one that stood out was the house in the middle surrounded by other houses. “Wait…I know this place”, your eyes widened and walked down the pathway.

There home looked at you all curious, you waved back at home as home swinged its window to say a hello, “ok….I must be dreaming am I?”, before home can even respond, you ran and went to the nearest person who is in the neighborhood.

Which was Eddie, you bumped into him as he looked at you with a shocked look and you all distraught and confused, “sorry….”, you began to pick up all his mail as he came along to pick it up as well, “no worries neighbor! Say I never seen you around here, are you new?”

Before you can say anything you heard someone screeching from behind as you were caught with a butterfly net, of course that caused one of your antennas to snap off which your screen had bugs. You were blind and tried to navigate your way to get out of this mess.

“I caught the bug! Eddie look!” Julie pointed as Eddie was in shock, “Julie I don’t think it’s a bug” Frank crossed his arms as he observed you, “they don’t have bug like features compared to Howdy”, your voice had a static as you spoke, “h…hey…I’m..n…not…a…a b…bug…h…help me” you struggled as Eddie took the butterfly net off you.

Barnaby suddenly chimed in to see the commotion, “what’s going on there fellas?”, he looked over and saw you, “oh boy new neighbor!!”, without a doubt without letting anyone speak, he picked you up and hugged you, “boy oh boy! My names Barnaby pal! What’s yours!!”.

At this point you were overwhelmed with all of this and struggled to get off. You can’t see anything nor speak because of the bugs on your screen. “I think they need to be put down”, Eddie responded as Barnaby realized what’s going on, “oopsies, sorry pal” he smiled a bit and set you down.

Frank then grabbed a piece of your antenna and put it where it belonged on your head as the bugs on your screen was gone. Now you can see and speak well, “I’ve never seen a neighbor with a head like that” Julie looked at you as everyone collectively agreed.

“What are you even talking about”, your eyes turned into three question marks, signing that your confused, “Well you’re no bug, you’re more of a tv head…” Frank circled around observing you and touched your tail, “you have a plug as a tail” he seemed interested as everyone looked at you like as if some artist drew a beautiful piece.

“Listen, I’m too overwhelmed with all of this mess. I just need to get home. This is not the time to watch me like I’m some circus animal”, you felt frustrated and overwhelmed.

“Indeed. But this is your home neighbor, I’m sorry for the behavior everyone had given you (y/n)”. You turned around and saw Wally as your screen had three explanation marks, “Sorry Wally, we were all excited to see the new neighbor”, Julie looked down as Wally walked towards you facing in front of them, “apology accepted Julie”, he smiled and looked at you.

“Indeed they are a strange one, they have a head of a tv”, you then touched your face as you were in a limbo, you couldn’t say anything and stayed in pure shock. “No worries neighbors, me and (y/n) are going to have a quick tour around the neighborhood, we don’t want to overwhelm them so for now we take baby steps”.

Before you can retaliate, everyone nodded and waved a goodbye to you as Wally looked at you…a little too comfortable as you blinked, “Uuh…so when am I going home?”, Wally hugged you as he himself is intrigued by you and your tv head self.

Boy oh boy. This might take awhile

authors note: I gave up halfway so I’m sorry if I didn’t make it that interesting-

Also Howdy and Poppy aren’t in this fanfic because I just only thought of the character of who would be outside most of the time

Here’s some concept art as an apology 💔

[thebooktopus]

@t4tdrarry aka @kryptidfox is a drarry content generation powerhouse. they're an incredible writer and artist, leaving all the rest of us to bask in the glory of their talent. be sure to follow their writing account to keep up with their incredible microfics.

but that's not just it, is it? of course not. because the truth is that reese is such a lovely part of this corner of the internet. they're always gifting their incredible artwork to others: these pieces for joy and crow's birthdays last week absolutely floored me in how incredibly unique they both were. they deserve all of the love and admiration coming their way. oh, and did I mention they do commissions...? 👀

random superlatives and recs:

harry and i about lose it when draco's calling out his name... for someone else: if somebody's there, then tell me who // E // 11K // Drarry // oooh the pining in this one is top-notch. love a good roommates to lovers fic, especially when one of them pushes until the other finally breaks. plus, it features art also by Reese!!

ready to confess my love after this: admissions (in the dead of night) // G // 596 // Drarry // they paint a gorgeous picture here with words alone. so tender and brave, my heart.

I should be ashamed at the number of times I've watched this animatic of drarry to mitski but fuck that it's awesome.

autistic Draco and Harry with pink hair: this artwork has me feeling all kinds of ways. 💖

pierced, grey-eyed draco with his black nail polish and his rings and Harry's finger in his mouth 👀 merry kinkmas to us all indeed.

and some non-drarry: drarreo (YESSSSS), young lily and snape, moony and his sun, OVER THE GARDEN WALL AHHHHHHHHHHH

ok ok ok I'll stop before I just rec everything they've ever drawn. go forth and shower love as appropriate.

reese, I'm so in awe of all of your talents and hope to get to know you better!! I hope you're having a great day. 💚

for more info on mutuals march and/or to figure out why the hell I just wrote an ode to you, check out this post.

[emachinescat]

Murdoc + Ithika + Mac

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 14 - “I didn’t mean it”

Summary: As an artist, Murdoc prides himself in taking his time with his work - he never loses control.  Except one time, with his favorite boy genius.  He always imagined that when he finally made MacGyver cry, it would be his finest moment.  Now, he’s not so sure.

Characters: Murdoc, Mac, Jack

Words: 3,454

TW: torture, broken bones, Murdoc being his creepy little self

Note: Happy Valentine's Day – the store was all out of chocolate, so I got you Mac whump! ;) The allusions to Ithika are from Homer's epic by the same name, but even more so from the incredible poem by C.P. Cavafy. The muse mentioned, Melpomene, is the Muse of Tragedy.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

- From “Ithika” by C. P. Cavafy

Murdoc enjoyed taking his time.

He was an artist, after all, and artists didn’t slap together a masterpiece in an afternoon – not the ones worth anything, at least.  Most spent days studying their subjects, becoming intimately familiar with every line and curve and element – the shading, the lighting, the vibrancy of the colors.  The very best didn’t even consider touching brush to canvas until they had developed a personal relationship with their subject – for how can a true artist paint that which he does not know deeply?  Why bother recreating that landscape or tea kettle or sad-eyed little girl or bowl of fruit if it could be any landscape, tea kettle, little girl, or bowl of fruit?  Why would someone paint something that wasn’t theirs?

Murdoc knew his subject very well.  He, like a true artist, had studied it in a variety of settings.  He’d watched and learned, dug deep into the core of its being, drawn out every secret and motivation and loss and love.  He understood what made his subject tick.  He’d even done some brief sketches, practicing each brushstroke with care, waiting patiently for the day he could at last, intricately, evoke that muse sought by the Romantics, that evasive Melpomene, and breathe his masterpiece to life.  Or, more accurately, to death.

And now, after years of watching, interacting, teasing, sketching, his time had finally come.  Months of planning had been sunk into this particular endeavor.  And now, unlike the first time he’d been introduced to his subject, he hadn’t been commissioned by anyone.  This portrait was personal, deeply personal.  He finally had his subject right where he wanted it.  The canvas was bare and waiting for the artist’s touch.  Murdoc had chosen his palette, mixed the colors – it might be cliche, but he was a sucker for red, black, and blue.

Now that his moment had finally arrived, however, it didn’t mean that he could rush through the actual creation process.  The act of studying one’s subject matter was slow and deliberate.  So must be the painting.  

***

Murdoc studied his canvas slowly, methodically, unsurprised that it wasn’t exactly blank.  MacGyver stood, hands chained above his head, attached to a grate above.  His bare toes just reached the cold concrete below.  His jacket and Henley had been removed – he shivered slightly from the chill of the basement.  Murdoc liked to think it was from fear.  

“Oooh, this one’s fun, MacGyver!” Murdoc crooned as the blonde boy wonder eyed him scornfully.  It was quite entertaining how expressive his prey’s pretty blue eyes could be.  Murdoc briefly brushed the tip of his little finger against the scar of a bullet wound on MacGyver’s chest.  MacGyver jerked back from the touch, though his expression remained stoic.

“Jealous that you weren’t the one who did it, Murdoc?”  He sounded confident enough, but Murdoc knew his subject quite well by now.  MacGyver was shaken.  For once, he had no control, nothing to work with, no way to escape.  He was at his captor’s mercy – Murdoc could do whatever he wanted, and MacGyver knew that.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared with what I’ve got planned for you, Angus,” Murdoc simpered sweetly, circling his catch of the day, dark eyes darting across more scars and recent cuts and bruises.  He pressed directly into the dark center of a boot-tip bruise on MacGyver’s side, relishing the sharp intake of breath it elicited.  “Someone on your last mission in Volgograd left their mark, I see.”

He circled back around to face his victim, who did a subpar job of hiding his surprise at the observation.  “That was highly classified.  How did you–”

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, MacGyver.  But you had to have known I would.  After all, you’re my closest friend, and I know where you live.  It’s kind of silly that you never moved, but maybe you just figured I’d find you even if you did.  I wonder – have you always tossed and turned in your sleep or is that a more recent development?”

True horror flashed momentarily in blue eyes, tugging Murdoc’s lips up into a satisfied smile.  “Oh, yes, your nightmares are very entertaining.  I do hope the majority of them are about me.  Oh, oh, oh!  And I especially love it when they’re so bad you have to call your watch dog to calm you down.  I wonder how Dalton’s taking your disappearance, by the way?  I’m sure he’s in for some nightmares of his own.”

“He’ll find me, if I don’t escape first.”  MacGyver’s bravado was both highly endearing and incredibly tiresome.  Same old, same old.

“Doubtful,” Murdoc purred.  “I mean, I know you well enough not to make stupid mistakes, my friend.”

“I escaped from the sewers, and you’d drugged me.”

“I intended for you to escape that day.  I needed to draw your friends in, to focus their attention on finding you while I attended to other business.  But this time – you’re mine.”  At the fervor in his words, a shudder entirely unrelated to cold clinked the chains restraining his victim.  Murdoc smiled, then continued.

“But now, there is no ulterior motive.  I grabbed you for no other reason than because I wanted to.  You are hidden away quite well, even more securely than last time, I’m afraid.  And you will not be left alone, not even for a second.  There may be things in this room you could use to escape, but they’re useless to you in your position.  And I am not going to take my eyes off of you.  You won’t have a chance to wriggle your way out of this one, MacGyver.  Ooooh, is that fear I see on your face?  No?  We really must change that.”  He tutted.  “Defiance and bravado really are your bread and butter, aren’t they, Angus?  What are you, an action hero from a cheesy 1980s TV show?”  Silence, though the fiery glare spoke more loudly than words.  

Murdoc clapped his hands together.  “Well, there’s no time like the present.  What do you say, MacGyver?  Let’s get started.”

***

Three hours later, Murdoc admired his work.  It was a slow process.  He painted with precision and care, layering the colors just so, balancing the strokes, the lights and darks and brights.  His brushes were many – laid out on the table before him were knives and pliers and blow torches and hammers and whips and cattle prods and other more specialized tools that he liked to work up to.  He also had an oversized meat tenderizer, made of steel.  He rarely used it – too garish for his refined tastes – but it did look nice and scary looming over the other instruments.

So far, he’d only used his knives and the cattle prod.  The masterpiece was starting to come together, but it was hardly complete.  He prowled around his artwork.  MacGyver’s trembling had increased.  He gasped for breath as Murdoc appraised his work – burns and cuts, some deeper than others – made a nice foundation.  The drip of blood across bare flesh outshone any Pollock painting.  He’d practiced his blending techniques, jabbing the cattle prod directly into the center of the lovely bruise he’d noticed earlier.  MacGyver hadn’t been able to hold in his yell of pain.  

Music.

“Are you enjoying our time together?” Murdoc asked.

MacGyver uttered a creative string of curse words that made Murdoc proud.  He whistled appreciatively.  “Who knew the boy scout had that in him?  I’m almost impressed.”

“Yeah, well,” MacGyver said, hissing as he shifted and pulled at his many wounds.  “Almost is about all you’ll ever be, Murdoc.”

Murdoc had been reaching for his trusty pair of pliers (those toenails could sure use a trim!).  He paused, his back partially to his captive, fingers hovering over the tool.  He was used to MacGyver’s sass, but what he’d just said hit a sour note that the hit man couldn’t shake.  He didn’t know if it was the tone or the words themselves.  “Excuse me?”  He tried to sound amused, but his voice was tight, as if it had been squeezed out of him.

A clink of the chains, a grunt of pain that didn’t lighten Murdoc’s mood as it should have.  Then, MacGyver elaborated.  His voice was clipped in pain, breathless, but conviction lined every syllable.  “You are doomed to live a life of almost, Murdoc.  Nothing is ever going to be enough for you.  Why do you think you take so long to get anything done?  Why do you spend so much time talking and taunting and watching and waiting?”

Murdoc didn’t move, his hand still inches away from his delicate instrument that caused pain but did no lasting damage.  “I’m an artist.”

“You’re afraid.” 

“I fear nothing.”

“You fear winning.”

Murdoc laughed, a forced, uncomfortable sound that he’d never heard come from his own mouth.  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Angus.  Are you sure the pain isn’t getting to your head?”

MacGyver pressed on relentlessly.  “You crave attention.  You need a challenge.  That’s why you picked me.  And you’re afraid of what happens if you beat me.  If I die, there’s always that possibility that you won’t find another playmate.”

Still, Murdoc didn’t move.  His words, despite their teasing jaunt, had a forced quality to them.  “Awfully full of ourselves, aren’t we, MacGyver?”

He could hear the triumphant smile in his adversary’s voice.  “I’m just stating the truth, Murdoc.  You might torture me, you might have your fun.  But at the end of the day, you’re going to slip up somehow.  It’s your way of making sure the game goes on.  Without that challenge, what are you?  Just an angry voice screaming at the sky, no purpose, no point.  You say you’ve studied me, Murdoc.  You’ve watched me and know me.  Well, in doing so, you’ve shown me yourself, too.  You’re not going to kill me today.  You’re never going to kill me.  

“I don’t know what exactly I’ve done to deserve this… honor,” he continued, placing particular derision on the last word, “but you’ve become obsessed with me, Murdoc.  Believe me, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it.  But it’s how I know I’m going to walk away from this.  If I’m gone, so is your fun.”

Murdoc prided himself on maintaining control over his emotions.  An artist, though he might express the inner workings of his soul on canvas, could not let his feelings control the brush, control him.  Look what had happened to Van Gogh – sure, beautiful work, but his emotions controlled him, destroyed him in the end.  Murdoc didn’t make mistakes like that.  He waited.  He didn’t lash out in anger.  It wasn’t because he wanted MacGyver to live, oh no.  His fondest dream was to see the blonde boy cry, to watch him squirm and beg for mercy, and then, finally, only when he’d really begged for it, to send him to his death.  MacGyver had no idea what he was talking about.  

It wasn’t even MacGyver’s words, his cocky belief that he was important enough to his torturer to keep alive, that sent Murdoc over the edge.  It was the tiny little voice, way back in the darkest, most depraved corner of his already dark and depraved mind, the one that spoke not in the voice of Murdoc, but one that sounded more like Dennis, the first casualty of Murdoc’s career – himself.  The voice said, plainly, without emotion, You know he’s right.

And that was the catalyst for the tsunami of rage that crashed into Murdoc, pummeling his well-practiced and unshakable resolve to take his time.  That was what spurred his frozen body into movement, curled his fingers around the handle of the meat tenderizer, that brash, archaic tool, rather than the pliers.  That was what spit his next words out of his mouth as if they were poison, words that finally – beautifully – caused Angus MacGyver’s eyes to widen in real fear: “You are going to walk out of here?”  A sadistic, mad giggle.  “My dear Angus, it will be a miracle if you ever walk again.”  

He hefted the heavy steel implement in his hand, pulled back, and lunged.  MacGyver tried to back away, the chains around his wrists cackling and clicking against one another in his desperation.  They held firm, and the meat tenderizer slammed full force into MacGyver’s left kneecap.  Murdoc felt the crunch of bones.  He heard the bestial howl, the scream of anguish, the body-jerking, breath stealing cry of a man in so much pain he lost himself.  He watched MacGyver’s face drain of color, recognized the moment when the pain became too much, and saw the tear-streaked face go slack, the chin thud against the battered chest and stay there. 

For a moment, Murdoc experienced the euphoria one could only find in hurting that special someone in such a catastrophic way.  He relished in that moment the scream, the agony, the writhing and loss of control.

Then the moment ended – and far too soon.

Immediately after, the weapon dropped out of Murdoc’s limp fingers.  It smashed into the floor below, with the jarring clang that only metal on concrete can produce.  He looked at the limp, hanging form before him, and something twisted inside of him – a feeling he’d never known.  It wasn’t guilt, nor revulsion.

It was, however, regret.

He didn’t understand it.  He should be overjoyed.  MacGyver was completely at his mercy.  Murdoc could kill him now.  Carve that bleeding heart out like a villain in a fairy tale would.  But then, he realized, MacGyver would be gone.  Forever.  Even now, his kneecap had been crushed, shattered into tiny fragments of bone and cartilage, and unless he got treatment of the highest quality, and soon, he’d almost certainly be crippled.  Even if he had extensive reconstructive surgery, his career as a Phoenix agent could still be over.

Wasn’t that what Murdoc had wanted?  To end MacGyver’s pesky existence, to win at this game of cat and mouse?  To create his most spectacular masterpiece with his greatest enemy?  That’s what he had dreamed of for years now, what he’d studied and practiced and yearned for.  And yet – 

What was it that hoity toity Greek poet had written?  Murdoc had read “Ithika” long ago, a random page in a poetry book of a man he’d killed.  For some reason, the poem had attached itself to his mind and never let go.  He could remember it even now:  

Keep Ithika always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for.  But don’t hurry the journey at all.  Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithika to make you rich.  Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.  Without her you wouldn’t have set out.  She has nothing to give you now.

And he understood.  The poem was supposed to be inspirational, for fools so focused on their goals that they missed the journey of life along the way – a mundane, silly sentiment.  But now Murdoc could see – MacGyver’s destruction was his Ithika.  Perhaps Cavafy had a point – maybe he had been a bit of an artist himself.  And MacGyver had been right about some things, wrong about others.

He was right in that Murdoc wasn’t ready to end the game just yet.  But it wasn't fear that held him back, that urged him to take his time.  It was joy.  Joy of the journey.  The little pleasures of life that are so often passed by in the grand scheme of things – the poet had been speaking of knowledge, of friendship, of love, of experiences.  Murdoc’s little pleasures were things like fear, drawn-out suffering, playing with his food and watching it squirm.  He relished that joy.  He wanted more of it, and if MacGyver died, or was out of commission as a spy, that joy would diminish.  Even if MacGyver lived, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t play along.

Murdoc made his decision.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a burner phone.  He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago, put the phone to his ear.

A fierce Texas twang answered before the first ring had run its course.  “Murdoc, you son of a bitch–”

“Temper, Jack,” Murdoc drawled.  He shivered in excitement at the mental picture of the inferno in Dalton’s eyes.  “You just assumed it was me – imagine if it were your mother on the other line.”

“I can scent the devil from a mile away.”  Murdoc heard muffled voices in the background, knew the call was being traced.  

“Don’t waste your time running a trace, you grumpy old hound dog.”  His words were light, yet he allowed the slightest hint of urgency to infect them.  “I’ve had my fun for today.  I’ll text you the address.”  He paused.  “Oh, and bring one of those fancy whirly-birds you like to use for medical emergencies.  I might have been a little… over zealous this time.”

He closed his eyes, gorging on the incalculable levels of hatred in Jack Dalton’s next words.  “If you hurt him–”

Appreciation turned to irritation.  Murdoc rolled his coal eyes to the ceiling.  “Weren’t you listening, you brute?  Obviously, I hurt him.  Quite a bit actually.  You should have heard him scream.”

A short silence.  Then – “You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown sewer rat.  If you hurt him, I am going to tear you limb from limb.  I don’t need any of your fancy tools.”

“Hmm, that was almost intimidating,” Murdoc teased in his most good-natured tone.  “But you’ll have to find me first.”  He let the words linger for just a moment, then continued: “Anyway, ta-ta for now.  I’ll text you the address.  I’ll be long gone by the time you get here, but feel free to bring all your little friends for a game of hide and seek.  Though I have a feeling that you’re going to be more focused on sweet Angus.”

He hung up, texted the address, then turned to a feebly stirring MacGyver.  Pity he was waking up right as Murdoc had to leave.  Whimpers that would have torn the very soul out of Jack Dalton erupted unbidden from MacGyver’s lips.  Glazed blue eyes cracked open, regarding Murdoc with a mixture of terror and acceptance.  Though he had regained consciousness, MacGyver still hung limply from the chains, too weak and in pain to move.

Murdoc stepped forward, eliciting the tiniest of flinches  Even that motion made MacGyver cry out.  But Murdoc didn’t hurt him again.  Instead, he said, “Your friends are on their way.”

MacGyver’s voice rasped in the aftermath of his screams.  “You’re letting … me go… Why?”  

“Got bored, I suppose.”  No way was Murdoc going to let MacGyver know he’d been right, even if only a little bit.

MacGyver didn’t respond – maybe he didn’t know how to respond; more likely, he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, amidst the torrent of pain.

Murdoc started to step away, then turned back, studying his latest draft of the elusive masterpiece that he would continue to dream about and that would fuel his passion and creativity for years to come.  He pulled off one black glove, placed his hand on a pale, cold cheek.  MacGyver jerked back feebly from the touch, grunting at the pain it produced.  Slowly, Murdoc wiped one of the fresher tears away with his thumb.  It might have been a power play.  It might have been a show of comfort.  Even the hit man didn’t know.  He glanced down at the shattered knee, swollen and misshapen, a grotesque monster straining to break free from the unrelenting fabric of the khakis.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, moving his gaze up from the deformed knee to lock his black eyes with fearful, anguished blue ones, “I didn’t mean it.”

He walked away, casting one final look over his shoulder before he left his art behind for the coming Phoenix agents to admire.  “Until next time, MacGyver.”

And despite the extensive search conducted by Phoenix once MacGyver had been loaded onto the chopper, on his way to the best orthopaedic surgeons in the country, Murdoc had once more disappeared, like a ghost.

That night he dreamed about his Ithika, and this time, it was enough. 

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 13 - A Work of Art

Varian was just putting away the last piece of the portal when Honey Lemon burst through the lab door. He and the rest of their friends were packing up his stuff to move into his new private laboratory. Having disassembled the device yesterday, he planned on moving everything today and to start rebuilding upon the morrow. If all went well, he could have his invention up and running again by Friday. 

Honey Lemon however took no notice of the task her friends were currently busy with. She was far too excited about the news she had to share while she waved two small slips of paper in the air. 

"Guess what I have?!" She exclaimed in a singsong voice and, before anybody could answer, blurted out, "Tickets to the newest exhibit at the San Fansokyo Art Museum! Who wants to come with?!" 

"Ah...gee, that sounds great, Honey Lemon buuuut…." Hiro searched the lab looking for an excuse, his eyes landing on Wasabi who stood next to him, "Wasabi and I have a group project to do this week."

"We do?" 

Hiro gave Wasabi a nudge in the ribs.

"Oh! Oh, we do!" Wasabi caught on and collaborated with his friend's lie. "Big project. We'll be busy with it all this week and possibly the weekend." 

Honey Lemon narrowed her eyes and gave them a pout, clearly not believing them. They however could only nervously laugh and held onto their plastered grins. 

Honey Lemon shrugged. "Oh well, I'm sure someone else will go with me, liiike my best friend, perhaps?" She leaned in close to Gogo as she said this and gave her a big smile. 

But Gogo wasn't having any of it. 

"No." She said and turned back to packing. 

Honey Lemon's face fell. She looked about the room to see who was left. "Freddie?" 

"Sorry, Honey Lemon," Fred answered. "I'd love to, but after the museum found out I was the one behind the water fountain incident I've been banned from the building." 

"Won't anyone go with me to see the Da Vinci exhibit?" She wailed in exasperation. 

Varian's ears perked up. "Da Vinci? As in Leonardo da Vinci? The famous painter and inventor!?" 

Honey Lemon inhaled in renewed excitement as she began to regain hope. "Yes! They have a bunch of his paintings on loan from Paris." 

"Oh, oh, do they have his blueprints for a flying machine on display?" Varian asked, his own excitement now beginning to match hers. 

"Uh huh! They even have the Mona Lisa!" She squealed. "Do you wanna come?" 

"Would I?!" He breathlessly laughed. 

"Yaaaay!" Honey Lemon hopped up and down repeatedly, barely unable to restrain her excitement. She then grabbed Varian into a big hug catching him off guard. He was still in a daze when she pulled away. 

"We'll meet up at the bus stop after school tomorrow, okay?" 

"Okay." Varian agreed hazily. He still hadn't gotten used to the girl's exuberant nature. 

"I can't wait!" She gave another squee and hurried off to her next class.

                                                      ----------------

 Varian and Honey Lemon stood in line at the exhibit, waiting to get in. 

"Wow! There sure are a lot of people." Varian commented. 

"I know right?" Honey Lemon agreed. "The exhibit is only here for this week and then it's going down to L.A. I had to rush to get the tickets before they sold out. Everyone wants to see the Mona Lisa." 

"The what?" 

Honey Lemon looked at him in surprise. "Only the most popular painting in the world! It's a portrait of a noblewoman named Lisa Gherardini and its sooo expensive. They hardly ever let it out of the Louvre. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I can't believe I'm going to see it in person!" Once again Honey Lemon squealed with joy, clapping her hands and jumping up and down repeatedly. 

Varian still wasn't sure what the big deal was, but he found her enthusiasm infectious anyways. An enthusiasm which only grew as they made their way into the exhibition hall. The line wrapped around the room, stopping at each picture, and ending at the famed painting that everyone came to see. 

Varian stared in breathless wonder at the various sketches and notes that lined the wall. He had only heard about most of them through reputation and through a small misprinted copy of the artist's notebook that he managed to snag off a traveling spice trader when he was thirteenth. Some of the pages had been smudged in the printing process and there were surprisingly few illustrations by the original creator within. 

But here he could see them in person and up close. He marveled at the blueprints for an underwater breathing device, swooned over the detailed anatomy studies, and practically cried with joy when he came upon the sketches for the infamous flying machine. The inventor could never get it to work, but the concept itself was fascinating to Varian. 

He continued to drool over the diagram, trying to commit it to memory, until Honey Lemon pulled on his arm excitedly. 

"Oooh, we're next! Come on!" She exclaimed. 

They were only behind about three or four people and Varian could peer over their shoulders to see a portrait of a well to do woman, with dark hair, sitting in front of a landscape. 

"I don't get it," Varian questioned out loud, "all of these magnificent inventions and scientific studies and all anyone cares about is a painting of some woman? Did she do something important or something?" 

"Hmmm...honestly not much is known about the real Mona Lisa. She's mostly famous for the painting itself." Honey Lemon answered. "But I think that's the point. She's so… mysterious. Everyone wants to know why she has that small smile on her face. Is she happy? Is she sad? Is she in love and putting on a brave face because she can't be with the handsome painter she's fallen for ‘cause of class division?" 

"Or is she just constipated?" Varian snarkily interjected, snapping Honey Lemon out of her romantic musings. Honey Lemon gave him a frown, clearly not appreciating his attempts at humor. He cleared his throat in embarrassment and was about to say sorry, when the people in front of them moved and they now had a clear view of the picture. 

All of Honey Lemon's annoyance melted away as she became enamored with the painting once more. 

"I can't believe I'm standing in front of the Mona Lisa!" She squeaked. She quickly pulled out her phone and took a quick snap of it with both him and her in the photo before turning back to gawk at the portrait. 

"Look at the craftsmanship, the colors, the detail! How could you not love this?" She fawned over the image.

"I mean, yeah, it's well made. But at the end of the day, it's just something a rich person paid him to paint." He gently pulled her out of the way of the next group of people who wanted a turn to look at the portrait, and walked her back over to the blueprints of the flying machine he had been admiring earlier, careful not to get in the way of the crowded line. 

"Now this… this is a masterpiece." He breathlessly said and now it was his turn to geek out. "This is something that the artist wanted to draw; to create! No commissions, no annoying noblemen telling him what to do, just pure science and discovery." 

He looked back and saw Honey Lemon tilt her head and give him a curious look. He suddenly felt self conscious, even though she herself had been practically bouncing off the walls just a few moments ago. 

"I think I understand." She said thoughtfully, "you admire it cause it's a reflection of the artist's innermost thoughts and you can relate to him, right?" 

"Uh...yeah I guess." Varian rubbed the back of his head. He hadn't ever thought of it that way before, he was just interested in the potential applications of the device, or so he thought. But upon considering her words it made some sense to him. He always did admire famous scientists and inventors because he felt a certain kinship to them. No one else in his village had understood his love of science and he had often wished to meet such masters of the craft if only to have someone to talk to about his interests. 

Honey Lemon flashed him a knowing smile, and Varian suddenly felt like an ass. Here before him was such a person. Someone who was genuinely trying to understand his point of view and how had he repaid her? By dismissing her passion for something she loved.  

"Look, I'm sorry if I insulted your favorite painting. It's cool if you like it, even if I don't understand it." He rubbed the side of his arm, not looking directly at her, unsure of how she'd respond. 

"Oh it's okay." She cheerfully chirped. Varian looked back at her in surprise but she only gave him a warm smile and continued on. "I'm just excited to be so close to such an important piece of history, but it's not my favorite." 

"It's not?"

"Nuh - uh" 

"Then what is your favorite?" 

Honey Lemon bit her lip as if unsure she should answer. 

"Do... Do you really want to know?" She asked hesitantly. 

Varian nodded his head encouragingly. She stood there undecided for a moment more before quickly grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the exhibition hall. Varian was surprised at the sudden action but he allowed himself to be led along down the various winding hallways of the maze-like building. 

She pulled him into another gallery room, this one far away from the crowds. She let go of his hand and ran up to a large long painting up on the opposite wall. 

"Ta-da!" She sang and gestured wildly at the picture indicating this was the one she had wanted him to see. "City Rising by Lenore Shimamoto." 

Varian walked over to join her and to gain a better view. The picture was a landscape painting of San Fansokyo. Only the city looked to be under construction and was silhouetted against the sunset. 

"Lenore Shimamoto is kind of my hero." Honey Lemon explained. "She was also an inventor and painter just like Da Vinci. She helped to rebuild the city after the great earthquake of 1906." She then paused and sheepishly added. "An earthquake she may have, kind of, caused." 

"Wait, she destroyed a whole city!?" Varian incredulously asked.

"Weeelll, she didn't do it on purpose." Honey Lemon excused. "She was experimenting with new kinds of energy and it went...wrong. She spent her whole life trying to make up for her mistake, but in the end she did wind up making things better for a lot of people." 

Varian looked back at the painting with a newly found appreciation. 

"I now instantly relate to this woman." He exclaimed. 

"You mean because of what happened Monday?" Honey Lemon asked, referring to the flooding he had caused with his portal. 

"That and... other … things." He swallowed, unable to explain further than that. 

"I get it." She sympathized. "One time I stained the whole bathroom pink." 

Varian snorted with laughter. "What!?" 

Honey Lemon let out a sigh before explaining. "I was trying to quickly break down metals using chemical compounds. You know, a bit of cobalt, hydrogen peroxide, some perchloric acid all super heated together and it can turn a hard substance like tungsten carbide into ash!" 

Varian's mouth hung open in awe. Disintegrating a hard metal into dust in an instant was a break-taking feat of chemical engineering and he was reminded just how smart the tall girl truly was. He now had a billion questions to ask her but the only thing that would come out of his mouth was a statement of admiration. 

"Amazing." He breathed. 

Honey Lemon blushed at that before continuing with her story. "Only the bit of metal I was working with kind of exploded when I touched it and it splattered all over my mother's bathroom. Everything is now stained pink; the walls, the sink, the ceiling, the bathtub. You name it, and it won't come out. I must have scrubbed the whole room for days." She bemoaned. "Mama was furious." 

Varian could only laugh. It wasn't as though he found her misfortune funny, so much as he found it relatable. It sounded so much like something that could have happened to him at some point. 

Honey Lemon didn't seem to mind though and joined him in his merriment. "You should have heard her." She said through her laughter. "Amanda, what did I tell you about experimenting in the house? !Sinceramente, ¿qué voy a hacer contigo hija? No more beakers in the bathroom!" Her accent became stronger as she wagged her finger in the air and tried to mimic the woman who raised her. This sent them both into another fit of giggles.

Once Varian had caught his breath he gave a mock groan. "Ooooh, I know how that is. Sometimes I think my dad would be much happier if I never touched a chemistry set again." 

"But it's not like you can ever just... stop." Honey Lemon said quietly. She was no longer looking at him but at the painting, as if musing over some great fundamental truth. 

"It's like there's, just this, this itch that you have to scratch. You get an idea and it just goes around and around in your brain in circles and if you don't make whatever is in your head right then you'll just... explode!"

It was a bit of a hyperbolic description, but it struck a chord with Varian nonetheless. He followed her gaze back to the painting before hesitantly adding his own commentary. 

"And … sometimes when you're in the middle of creating your idea you just... get lost, and don't fully realize what else is going on around you." 

"Yeah! And you just can't wait to make it real so you can show it off to everyone." The words were tumbling out of her now. "Cause it's not like anybody can see what's in your head, right? But you want everyone to know, to see, because… well because…" 

She was beginning to fumble as she searched for the right words to conclude her ramble, however Varian finished for her. 

"Because maybe then they'll see you too." He said quietly, still looking at the painting. 

She stopped in surprise and turned to look at him, as if just now noticing he was even there. He finally turned back to her and their eyes met. 

"Uh...yeah." She breathed, now at a loss for words completely. He had hit upon something very raw and real that she didn't like to normally think about too much. They stood transfixed for a moment more before Varian broke the silence. 

"Wow!" He whispered and gave a little breathless laugh. "I.. I never met anybody who could put it into words before, what it's like, to just...just be an inventor and to love science so much...and explain why." 

Now it was his turn to fumble over his words. She blushed at the sudden declaration and began to self consciously play with a strand of her hair.

He trailed off, still unable to look away from her. It was as if he was truly seeing her for the first time and all he could do to express his new found admiration was to give her a dopey smile. 

"I'm not making any sense am I?" He laughed awkwardly. 

"Oh, no, you're making perfect sense," She reassured, "well as about as much sense as I am. Which, according to some people, isn't a whole lot admittedly." She joined in with her own awkward laugh. "Abuelo is always calling me his little soñadora." 

"Abuelo?" Varian asked, confused. 

"Oh! My grandfather." She explained. "It’s Spanish." 

"Ahh." Varian slowly nodded his head as realization dawned on him and Honey Lemon continued on about her family. 

"Yup, it's just me, my mama, abuelo, and my three younger brothers." 

"Sounds like you have a big family. That must be nice." 

"Yeah, it is, though it could sometimes get crowded in just our three bedroom house. Hence, why I always snuck in the bathroom to do experiments. Otherwise my brothers would never let me get anything done." She rolled her eyes at that, mentally recalling all the times her siblings crashed through her work space or got in the way of what she was trying to do. 

"Yeah, now, there I can't relate. I never had siblings growing up. It was always just me and my dad, and the big old empty castle we lived in." 

Honey Lemon gasped and brought her hands up to her face in excitement, "You grew up in a castle !?" She squealed. "Oh, what was it like!? Were there any tapestries? Did you hold dances and banquets? Wait, are you a prince! ?" 

"What?!" Varian exclaimed, completely knocked for loop by her questions. “Uuuh… drafty, a few, usually never, and no, just, no.” He listed off the brief answers before explaining further. “Old Corona used to be the capital hundreds of years ago, before they moved it to the island port. My dad is the leader of the village, so we live in the old castle, but it’s nothing special or fancy or anything. There’s no servants, just us, and the whole place is kind of worn down. There’s always something that needs to be cleaned or repaired. You’re more thinking of the palace in Corona itself. That’s the ‘new’ capital. It’s got all of those things, except replace ‘prince’ with ‘princess’ and there ya go.” 

“You met, a real, live princess?!” Honey Lemon blurted out. Like many young women, Honey Lemon had grown up on stories about fairy-tale princesses, castles, knights in shining armor, and charming princes. She couldn’t help her romantic nature from taking over and filling her head full of picturesque images of balls and courtly chivalry. She could just imagine Varian kneeling before a beautiful girl in a long flowing gown and declaring his undying love and loyalty, just like in all of the old movies she’d seen growing up.

“What was she like?” Honey Lemon asked eagerly.

Varian pouted and mulled over the question before answering. 

“Not very nice.” He finally said. ”Not as nice as she pretended to be, anyways.”  

He left things there and declined to explain any further. Honey Lemon’s face fell and she could have kicked herself for being so stupid. Of course Varian wasn’t some fairy-tale prince. He was a real person and so was the aforementioned princess, and sometimes real people didn’t get along. There was no telling what had transpired between the two of them; a bad breakup perhaps, or maybe she was just a rude individual since the start? But whatever the reason, it was clear Varian had been deeply hurt by what had occurred as he looked off to the middle distance forlornly.  

Honey Lemon racked her brain for a way to cheer him up. 

“Hey, you know what?” She said, “We should go get some ice cream after this.”  

“Ice cream?” Varian asked confused, ”What’s ice cream?”

“You’ve never had ice cream before!?” She asked incredulously and he shook his head.

 “Oh my gosh, it’s only the best thing ever!” And with that she once again grabbed him by the hand and excitedly pulled him along, eager to share with him the frozen treat that was always sure to make things better.

“...Annnd that’s how I got kicked out of student housing.”Honey Lemon finished her story about another chemistry accident she had had. They had come to the bus stop and were now waiting for the public transit to arrive as they finished their ice cream. She took the last bite of her own dessert and threw the cup away in the trash. She turned around and then asked Varian if he had any stories to share.    

Varian was caught off guard once again. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into his past, so he offered up one of the lesser damaging scenarios.

‘Ummm...I once set the barn on fire. I was trying to make an automatic plowing machine for my dad, but turns out grease fires and hay shouldn’t mix.’ He joked sarcastically.

Honey Lemon gave him an empathetic smile, crinkling up her nose and closing her eyes in that adorable way that she sometimes did. Varian felt his pulse quicken at the sight and he quickly shoveled the rest of his ice cream cone into his mouth to stop himself from saying or doing anything foolish.

Fortunately the bus then arrived, interrupting their conversion.

                                                     ----------------

Varian stepped off the bus and turned around to wave goodbye to Honey Lemon. The public transport had arrived back at the college where they had begun their day together, but she was going to continue on and head back to the apartment she shared with Gogo.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” She yelled through the window as the vehicle pulled away.

She continued to wave at him until the vehicle was out of sight and Varian found himself holding his breath and mimicking the action. Once he could no longer see the pretty redhead and was sure she was out of ear shot, Varian let out a whoop of laughter and joyously spun around.

He’d never had an experience like the one today. He’d had crushes before, sure, but not like this. He’d never met someone he could relate to so much and the time spent with her was exhilarating. It was certainly the most successful conversion he’d ever had with someone near his age.

He made his way back to the dormitories, humming a cheery tune as he went and grinning like a maniac. Maybe she'd like to hang out again sometime, just the two of them, like today. Varian began to think of things he might invite her along too, but he soon stopped in his tracks as a nagging thought encroached upon his mind.

What was the point of trying to get closer to her, to anybody, if all he was going to do was leave soon.

You don’t have to leave you know. Another more tempting voice told him.

But Dad.. he argued.

Varian just stood there in the middle sidewalk at war with himself, unsure what to do now. Until a third thought entered his mind. Why not both? Why couldn’t he go back, rescue his dad, and then return with him here? It wasn’t like either of them had anything left in Corona now, and if he could find a way to reconnect the two worlds a second time, why not a third?

The nagging voice of doubt tried to tell him he was being overly optimistic, that people didn’t always get what they wanted, that reconnecting the worlds was proving to be more challenging then he initially had thought, but he stubbornly shoved it down. He wasn’t willing to let go of this near perfect day, not just yet.

Sure he’d done some bad things in his past but didn’t deserve just a little happiness? Didn’t he deserve a chance at a normal life after over a year and a half of horror and misery? Why couldn’t he have an education, friends, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of romance? He was sixteen after all, and even if it wasn’t with Honey Lemon specifically, as he didn’t know for sure how she felt about him, he was still old enough now to start dating.

With his decision made he continued to head back to the dorm, now marching along with new resolve and running over plans in his mind.

He opened the door to the dorm-room and was met by the sight of Wasabi and Ruddiger fighting again. His pet was wrestling to get out of Wasabi's grip while the taller teen was covered in claw marks and feathers from one of his pillows. Now ripped to shreds and lying discarded on the floor.

Upon seeing him, Wasabi stormed over holding Ruddiger by the scruff of his neck indicating that Varian should take the raccoon away from him.

“Look, I love you, man, but I hate this raccoon.” He glowered and then deposited Ruddiger into Varian’s arms. Wasabi then stormed out of the room without further explanation.

Varian gave his pet a stern look. So much for a perfect day.

[stillebesat]

The Interview (5/5)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman Blurb: A normal day at StoryTime! Inc. takes an unexpected turn when Logan goes to investigate why his coworkers have made a bet using Crofters as the prize. Fic Type: General, Human!AU Warnings: None

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 

Logan hadn’t meant to stay for the entire negotiations on Roman’s commission. He could have easily excused himself from the room as soon as he’d pulled up the proper forms for Virgil to read through, negotiate, and then sign.

After all, he had his own pile of work that needed to be seen to before the day was over and Roman was quite capable of hiring his own employees. 

And yet.

He couldn’t help but be intrigued by what Virgil requested in exchange for each character piece that his brother wanted.

Virgil hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d followed Thomas from the beginning, and Logan should have realized when their new hire admitted to having theories on there being Two Princes at StoryTime! that he would be familiar with their work and placement within the company as well.

For Virgil had set to bartering with his brother like they were traders arguing over goods in the market. 

And those goods...were their respective skill sets. For every artwork Roman wanted, Virgil had ended up negotiating what had amounted to practically a month’s worth of various lessons from The Prince himself. That didn’t mean just learning more drawing or animating techniques. Their new hire had also convinced Roman to give him a handful of acting lessons, one singing lesson, a sneak peak at a couple of scripts his brother was working on, and a copy of Roman’s Broadway performances Logan had secretly recorded before they’d been hired onto StoryTime!.

How Virgil knew about those recordings Logan had no idea. He’d kept those tapes under wraps...so he’d thought. 

But not once did a monetary value cross Virgil’s lips as the price for his work as he carefully took notes on his beat up phone of every detail his brother wanted.

Logan was sure their new hire could have used the cash, but to have him seeking to improve his skills was admirable. Plus, the amount of questions he asked showed that Virgil was willing to put in the work to make Roman happy, though it was very apparent that his brother, from the ragged state of his usually perfectly styled hair, hadn’t expected him to go into quite so much detail about what he wanted in each artwork. 

Virgil pulled at the tie around his neck, loosening it to the point where it looked more like a shiny ribbon than a tie. “But Princey.” He argued, his eyes sparking with the fire Logan had seen down below as he leaned forward, pushing the sleeves of his suit up. “You have to pick one face of the Mayor.”

Roman buried his head in his hands. “I knoooooow, Stormcloud! Stop badgering me. I didn’t expect that I would need to!” 

Virgil scoffed, tapping his phone screen. “You didn’t expe--have you ever done commissions before, Romanji? You’re basically the driving force of StoryTime! and you can’t decide on a face? Where is this ‘You push on! No matter the hardship! No matter the voice that tells you you can’t!” 

His brother pointed a finger at Virgil without looking up. “Don’t you DARE quote Psycho Godfather Wars at me! GAH!” 

Logan fought back a laugh as he shook his head, pulling the portfolio closer to him. “Honestly Roman, the solution to which face of the Mayor should wear is simple.” 

“Simple!” Roman scoffed, twisting in his chair to him, throwing his arms out. “How can such a choice be considered simple!”

He raised an eyebrow. Well, it would have been a simple solution if he hadn’t distracted Roman from looking through Virgil’s entire portfolio. A pity. He would need to ensure his brother properly looked through it later tonight. “Virgil’s portfolio already contains the answer to your problem.”

“My artwork? Sure it’s--” Virgil ran a hand through his hair, flushing. “ah...g-good and all, but I don’t see how--”

Artists. Logan flipped open the page to the green basilisk from earlier, sliding it to them with a faint smile. 

Virgil stared at it wide eyed before face palming. “OF COURSE!” 

“Of course?” Roman leaned forward. “How does--” 

Virgil shook his head. “It will probably take a bit of trial and error.” He said leaning forward. “But” He shifted the paper, so Roman could see the basilisk’s scales switch from green to white. “If I can get it to work on the head--”

“We can have the Mayor wear both faces at once! Virgil you genius!” Roman clapped him on the back before eagerly pulling the artwork to him. “How in the world did you do this? You gotta teach me!”

“Te--Teach you?” Virgil managed, going pale as he rubbed the spot Roman had touched.

Logan sat back, adjusting his glasses as his brother nodded, his eyes racing over the page while he shifted the paper back and forth. “It’s an ink right? But almost like paint--this is like ah!” Roman snapped his fingers. “Specs! Do you remember in school--with the gel pens?”

How could he forget? Logan pulled the pages of Virgil’s contract from the printer, ensuring they were all there and in order before he tapped them into a neat pile. “You mean the markers you filled with glitter that--”

“Caused Miss Mary Lee to sparkle for a month straight when one exploded? YES!” Roman chuckled. “She banned me from markers for the rest of the school year.” 

Which was unfortunate because she couldn’t tell him and Roman apart so Logan too had been banned from them that year. He quirked an eyebrow. “Not that it stopped you from ruining the crayons, the colored pencils, the regular pencils, every pen you touched, the chalk, the--”

“Seriously?” Virgil’s brought a fist to his lips, but not before a soft laugh broke free. “Princey, are you sure you’re not a Demon? A Destroyer of Creativity?”

Roman shot to his feet with an offended gasp. “HOW DARE YOU! I AM--”

“Definitely all those and more.” Logan interceded as Virgil jerked back, wide eyed. “At least, he was as a child.” He allowed. “He’s improved slightly since then.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow to Roman. “Slightly.” 

His brother jerked a hand to his heart as if he’d been stabbed. “Traitor! I haven’t broken a pen in-” 

“He’s not dead, Reese.” Patton’s tiny voice piped up from Logan’s watch. 

“Wanna bet your famous pasta on that?” Her voice asked into the silence. “He’s totally been taken by a Vampire.” 

“Vampire?” Virgil asked, glancing around for the source of the voices.

Roman’s lowered his hands, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oooh? You didn’t tell me the others are interested in our new hire.” 

Virgil paled. “Others?” 

Logan exhaled, silencing his watch. He had stayed too long. He should have realized his team would get suspicious with his long absence. “And if I say yes?”

Roman’s smile grew, humor dancing in his eyes as he leaned in. “Then I would ask why exactly did you go find my new hire, Lo?”

Logan shrugged a shoulder, moving to stand so he was on the same eye level as Roman. He would need to tread carefully here. But it wasn’t like Virgil wouldn’t find out eventually. “As I told Virgil earlier, it was noted that he’d been outside for quite some time.” 

“And you went to investigate?” His brother raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You don’t go outside Specs.”

Logan rolled his eyes, fiddling with his glasses. “You know for a fact that I do.”

“Not before dusk. Maybe you’re a vampire after all.” 

Of course his brother would make them go through such a silly conversation. He turned away, breaking eye contact as he slipped Virgil’s contract into a folder and handed it to Roman “Make sure Virgl reads, negotiates the proper terms and signs this before he leaves as I regrettably-” and it was regrettable as watching Virgil interact with Roman was far more fascinating than crunching numbers and managing budgets. “-have to return to my own department.” 

“Right right, but don’t ignore the fact that you’re avoiding my accusation brother dear.” Roman grinned, taking the contract with a nod. “Did you actually become a vampire and not tell me? Rude!”

Hardly. Though with everyone’s apparent obsession with the creatures Logan could foresee their MC being a vampire in StoryTime!’s next movie. “As Virgil can attest, I was fine standing in the sun. So obviously, I am not a vampire.” 

 “I dunno…” Virgil licked his lips, a careful humor all too similar to Roman’s sparking in his mismatched eyes as he pushed down his sleeves. “The forums did circle that particular rumor around for a while a couple years ago about you, Specs. But what is this...uh...bet? Why did you come outside to..well...see me…” He tilted his head, rubbing his arm as he studied Logan. “If you don’t usually leave?” 

Roman suddenly smirked, laying the contract on the desk near his commission notes. “Ooooh. If I didn’t know better I would say this probably involves….” He paused for dramatic effect. “Cofters.”

Despite himself, Logan flinched. “No!” He denied, though from the way Roman’s eyes lit up, he’d negated the accusation too quickly for it to be believable. 

Virgil frowned, looking between the two. “Crofters? The Movie?”

“The jam.” Roman clarified. “Lo here’s obsessed with the stuff. Come on.” He advanced around the desk as Logan took two short steps backwards towards the door to stay out of range. “Tell us brother mine. Why did Crofters make you go outside for my interviewee?”

 Logan cleared his throat. “For the record I didn’t know who Virgil was or his purpose for being here when I ventured outside.”

“But you had your suspicions.” Their new hire said, shifting in his seat. “You asked if I was here for an interview.”

Logan nodded. “Yes, your portfolio was enough of an indication of that and Roman has lost people in his department recently, so it was a simple enough conjecture to assume you were here to interview with him.” 

“Even so, dozens upon dozens of people holding portfolios have passed beneath our windows.” Roman stated, gesturing out his own windows. “Why then would you choose to interfere with my interview when you told, nay, you promised me you wouldn--”

“Alright!” Logan shook his head, spreading his arms in surrender. “I admit Crofters was the motivator for why I went outside but it had nothing, and I repeat, nothing.” He met Virgil’s mismatched eyes. “To do with me hiring you. You earned your spot at StoryTime!, Virgil. You have the talent and skill of one who’s worked with us for years. There’s no doubt there. Crofters had nothing to do with it.” He gestured to his watch. “While there are friendly bets that take place among the people who work here; policy, as is more fully outlined in your contract, dictates that said bets never involve work related matters. Since you are our new hire, no bets can be made about you or your work from here on out.”

Virgil let out an unsteady breath, giving a shallow nod. “Okay...good..yah...good to know…” He pulled the tie from around his neck, twisting it among his fingers. “So you...so this...bet?” 

“Was between Patton and Reese on whether or not you would come inside the building, nothing more.” Logan said simply.

Roman blinked. “Come inside? Why wouldn’t he come inside?”

“Because the forums made you out to be freaking terrifying, Princey.” Virgil muttered.

His brother inhaled...hesitated then sheepishly shrugged. “Okay, That I can’t deny. I have a vision after all! I can’t settle for second rate!”  

That was accurate on both accounts. Hence Roman’s intense pre-interview requirements for each application. Logan shifted a step closer to the door. “Regardless, your loitering outside drew their attention and so the bet was made.” 

“Right on me...coming inside.” Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, the careful humor coming back into his eyes. “So who won?” 

Roman snapped his fingers. “Patton.” 

Logan nodded, not at all surprised he had guessed correctly. “Yes. He was quite adamant that Virgil would come inside. Offering up six jars of Crofters and his triple death by chocolate brownies before I was made aware of the situation.” 

His brother whistled, clapping Virgil on the shoulder. “SIX. EmoKnightmare you already have Patton’s heart! He never goes above three.” 

Virgil flushed, fidgeting in his chair. “So...Reese?” 

“Bet that you would not come in, yes, but do not take that to heart.” Logan said. “She enjoys being contrary as you’ll find out soon enough.” Once Virgil signed the paperwork and finished the basic training, he would be given a full tour around StoryTime! and introduced to the various teams. After all, Virgil couldn’t become part of the FamILY if he didn’t meet everyone. 

“Ten more minutes and I’m calling it. R.I.P to Specs. He had a good run.” Reese piped up from the watch. 

Logan exhaled, straightening his tie. “That, I believe, is my cue to go assure the others that I am not dead and not a vampire.” 

Virgil smirked, shoulders relaxing. “Being a vampire technically means you’re dead, well undead, but go off I guess.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “Finish your commission talk you two, and Roman.” He pointed a finger at his brother. “I expect Virgil’s signed contract on my desk before I leave.”

“Easy enough.” Roman winked returning to his chair. “Considering you never leave.” 

He wasn’t going to live that down anytime soon was he? Logan gave them a nod. “Virgil, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to seeing your work here at StoryTime!.”

“Ah..yah..thanks…” Virgil rubbed the back of his head, giving him a half smile. “Cya around Specs.”

With the niceties over, Logan slipped outside, heading back to his own office. Of how he had expected his day to go, this momentary distraction with Virgil had been-

“HE LIVES!!” Callie cheered as he entered the room.

“I do indeed...why would you assume I did not?” Logan asked, briefly meeting Patton’s worried gaze and offered him a small smile. 

Patton straightened, giving him a blindingly wide grin in return as he laid his sketchpad on the nearest desk.

“Because you were gone for forever that’s why!” Reese stated swiveling to him. “Soooo?” 

“So?” Logan rolled down his sleeves as she threw her hands out with a scoff. 

“Weeeeelllll, what happened Specs? Is the kid any good at all or did you just want Patton to win the bet?” 

“Virgil has been hired on as StoryTime!’s newest member of the FamILY.” He said matter of factly, glancing to Patton and Callie as they cheered.

“YES!” Patton pumped his fist. “I knew you could do it, kiddo!” He stood, looking around. “Where is he? Can I meet him?”

Like he would be able to stop Patton from darting off to find him even if he said no. “He’s finishing filling out the forms with Roman now, so I wouldn’t interrupt them just yet. BUT.” Logan adjusted his glasses, looking to each of them in turn. “Virgil was hired based on his skills, not because I wanted Patton to win the bet. It could have easily been you, Reese, if he had been found lacking.” 

Reese groaned, dropping her head to her desk with a thud. “That doesn’t make me feel better, Specs. I had could have had six. SIX. Jars of Crofters and the triple death by chocolate brownies on my desk tomorrow morning. But Noooooo. You’ve deprived me of the simple joys in life.” 

Dramatic as always. “You didn’t lose everything, Reese.” He said, waiting until she lifted her head before he continued. “Virgil didn’t enter the building until I invited him in.” 

“What?!” Callie gasped, eyes going wide. “No!”

Reese cackled, grinning like a demon. “YES! That means candy for me!” She spun to Callie, holding out her hand. “A handful of your-” Her lips twisted. “Christmas candy, Cals. As agreed.” 

“I can’t believe he’s a vampire! He was out in the sun.” She whispered, unknowingly echoing Logan’s earlier point as she pulled open a drawer in her desk. 

“Well maybe he’s a hybrid.” Reese threw out. “Times have changed since the world went from black and white to color and ARE THOSE FREAKING CANDY CANES?” 

Callie blinked, holding up a dozen multicolored candy canes towards Reese. “Yes?”

“Why in the world do you have those HERE already?!” She practically screeched. “EW!! Cal! That’s an affront to all things Thanksgiving!”

Laughter danced in Callie’s eyes as she shook her head. “No it’s not. I thought it was rather festiv--”

Logan turned to Patton and tilted his head towards the door in a silent question. 

Patton nodded and the two of them slipped out of the room while the girls were distracted with their argument over when holidays should be celebrated. 

“So? How did it go really?” Patton asked as soon as they entered Logan’s office, eagerly taking a seat. “You took quite a while to look through the kid--ah Virgil’s work before you both came inside and then you well.” He made a small poofing noise. “Vanished.” 

“It went…” Logan ran his fingers along his tie as he sat down. “Well. Virgil was nervous to face my brother and so I offered to look through his portfolio for him and after what I saw….” He looked up. “I hired him on the spot.” He confided quietly.  

Patton gasped, nearly falling off his chair as he leaned forward to grab Logan’s hands, eyes wide with concern. “You?!--but after last time, you knew Roman--” 

“Would be upset and he was as expected.” Logan twisted his wrists so his fingers twined with Patton’s. “But the risk I took was calculated and you know how good I am at math.” He said. “Roman was quick to change his tune when he realized that Virgil was none other than his beloved EmoKnightmare478.” 

”WHAT?!” Patton shrieked, bouncing in his chair, squeezing Logan’s hands. “That--How COOL! Was Roman excited?”

Logan didn’t hold back his smile. Really the odds of Virgil being the interview had been beyond extraordinary. He was sure Roman would be gushing about this for weeks. “Beyond excited. He’s commissioning Virgil to draw the entire Nightmare Before Christmas cast in the Sallyized Jack style.”

Patton’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “Whoa.” He breathed. 

“Exactly. Which is why I didn’t return right away, I was overseeing their negotiations…the kid--” Logan let out a breath, squeezing Patton’s hands. “He’s got quite the unique outlook. He has amazing, innovative designs of his own make and an active eye to StoryTime!’s future that could help us continue to reach out to more audiences and I just--” 

“You just?” Patton encouraged, softly, eyes shimmering as he glanced to the door, more than likely itching to go meet Virgil in person though his hands remained steady in Logan’s.

He shrugged. “I think he’ll fit in quite well here. Plus, he and Roman are actually getting along and that’s...big.” His brother didn’t always warm up quickly to the new hires and he and Virgil already had quite the dynamic going. 

“If Roman likes him, then I’m sure he’ll fit in just fine here with the rest of us, Lo.” Patton said, giving him a sly wink as he gestured to the three jars of Crofters sitting on his desk. “We’ll make the kiddo feel like he’s part of the FamILY in no time. I promise.”

End

Taglist in Reblog

[nenuials]

Thank you for your answer! Do you have any appearance preferences for each of those characters from the previous ask? Hair colour, clothing style, skin tone, etc? Everyone has their own personal imagining of characters' looks, so I'd like to be able to get into your imagination a bit more! :D

Oh, oooh I most certainly do! Buckle up!

For Halbarad, my fancast for him is S3 Guy of Gisborne from BBC Robin Hood. He is described in the books as having sea-gray eyes, dark hair and a grave voice. I have commissioned artists in the past to depict this rendition of him here and here and I believe they’ve done a most splendid job! I envision him wearing the star brooch all the dunedain have, but the depiction of it I like best is this one. He is also second in command of all the dunedain, so I think he would wear the circlet present in the first art I shared, one thin line of silver with a single shining seven pointed star. Aragorn is his chieftain, his best friend, his lord and king. I imagine the bond the two must share is truly special. I also like to think he was very close to Arwen, as Arwen was the one to task him with carrying the standard she sew in secret for Aragorn, and delivering it to him and also Aragorn’s future wife. I mused on their bond in this edit I made, also the entire gallery of this artist does an incredible job in emulating my feelings on the bond the three must have shared, but this piece in particular is amazing. For clothing, I do like the clothing Guy has in Robin Hood and I could see Halbarad wearing something like that, but LOTRO does a wonderful job. His Grey Company uniform is the most beautiful out of all of them, although the normal ranger outfit doesn’t look too bad. There’s just so many scenes I could envision him in, him leading the Grey Company, mounted on a gray steed, with Elladan and Elrohir by his side. Him doing his duty by the side of the other rangers, garbed in the greens and browns of the rangers. Him in the Prancing Pony one quiet evening, listening to the tales of the other patrons, hiding a smile under his long hood. Him in Sarn Ford, looking with a worried brow over a map and planning a skirmish. Him coming to Evendim and admiring the beauty of lake Nenuial and so on. God, I could talk about Halbarad so much.

For Mithrellas, my fancast for her is Helena Mattson as Salindra in Legend of the Seeker. Mithrellas is one character that’s just so special to me, since to my knowledge she is the only elf who married a mortal without asking for the favor of the Valar and whose children were not granted the choice of whether to become mortal or stay an elf. She literally just did what she wanted, damned be the consequences. She paid for it, in the fact that her husband and children grew old and died, while she stayed unchanged, which prompted her to leave her family and never look back, so that’s why all I want is to see her happy by the side of her family while she still has the time.

I don’t have very much to say about Elendil apart from the fact that my fancast for him is Brynden Tully from Game of Thrones. LOTRO does a beautiful job at depicting Annuminas. And since he was the first king, I like thinking about him reining in there for what time he had.

For Luthien, my fancast for her is Fan Bingbing in White Witch of Lunar Kingdom, and I’ve made some edits here, here and here, also this edit is fantastic to give you an idea of what I picture. For Thuringwethil my fancast for her is Akasha from the vampire chronicles. Some excellent edits are here and here. I like Beren x Luthien, it’s what the tale is about after all, but sometimes you just need some wlw in your life you know? All the angst, all the enemies to lovers, the potential this ship has!!! I’d probably love a scene with them just being gals, you know gals being pals, chilling together. 

[mlpdestinyverse]

“Gallery of Infamy”

While figuring out a way to mend their relationship with their mother Rainbow Dash, the mare gives Monochrome a surprise visit that leads them through memory lane.

Feat: Monochrome

Story and Description Under The Cut

Tick...tick… The sound of a ticking wall clock was the only thing that bounced off the cloud-walls of Monochrome’s room. There they sat at their wooden desk in one corner, pencil in wing...staring. They blankly stared at the crisp sheet of paper laid out before them, with a measly two sentences written at the top. But no matter how long they sat there thinking, sifting through their brain for the right coherent thoughts and feelings, the words they sought out just refused to form. Soon enough the pegasus was shoving the paper away from them, towards a messy pile of other discarded attempts.  Firmly placing their pencil down, Monochrome sat back in their chair with a light creak and closed their eyes. A frustrated sigh escaped their muzzle. “This isn’t working…” they mumbled to themself, opening their green eyes half way to tiredly stare at the white ceiling. Monochrome knew themself. They knew they were horrendously incapable of putting their feelings into words. And now, they were learning that it wasn’t just the spoken word that they struggled with. So much for having a famous writer for a mom. ‘How am I going to do this…?’ Mo’s eyes opened fully when they felt something cold, smooth, and familiar nudge at their leg. Looking down, they were greeted by curious beady eyes and a lovable wrinkly green face. Tank slow-blinked at Monochrome and a crease in his forehead gave away his confusion and worry. As he tilted his head to express his question, a soft and adorable turtle-grunt left his throat. Monochrome’s stresses began to seep away at the sight. With a gentle smile, Mo shook their head. “I’m fine, Tank. I’m just trying to figure out how to...talk to mom. Rainbow Dash, I mean.” The turtle’s eyes widened in recognition, and ever so slowly a wide, delighted smile began to pull at his mouth. Very slowly. Yet Monochrome loved watching it nonetheless. “I know...a long time coming, I guess. “ Reaching out, Monochrome sifted their failed letter attempts into a pile, making a mental note to take them to a recycler later. “I need to...sort things out. And take that actual first step in moving past my problems with her. But I don’t know what I’m doing…” Monochrome frowned down at the pile, taking in the various erase marks and struck-out words. It really was so much easier, avoiding these feelings altogether and the ones who fueled them. The insecurity. The bitterness. Monochrome guarded themself from these feelings with indifference and detachment. That’s who they’d become. They knew it all too well. If only they knew how to convey that. They needed to let her know, right? That out of everyone in their life - between the harsh peers and long lost friends - she was the one who had contributed to their...problems the most. 'She certainly didn't help my case...' Before Monochrome could let themself indulge in these thoughts they had been so keen on burying, the sound of their doorbell reached their ears. The pegasus raised an eyebrow before pushing their chair out and climbing off. “I’ll be back, Tank.” After an affectionate pat on the turtle’s head, Monochrome set off for the front door. As they moved down their hallway to the foyer, they searched their brain for any ideas on who could be at their door. The mail had already been delivered earlier in the day. And they didn’t have to recheck deadlines to know that none of their commissions were due." ‘Skychaser’s been busy. Ven, maybe? I know he and mom came back last week-’ So as Monochrome opened their door, one could imagine their tension, and confusion, over seeing a surprised Rainbow Dash at their doorstep. “Chromey~!” Their mother exclaimed, a grin stretching across her face. “EYYY you’re actually home for once! Venny can never seem to find you here, you know?” “Hello….” Monochrome greeted slowly, still processing the mare’s presence. With a soft “oooh!” at seeing the foyer behind them, Rainbow Dash invited herself in and flew past their kid. Even as they closed their door, Monochrome eyed their mother, perplexed. Wary, even. ‘She always sends Ven to get me...since when did she visit me personally?’ “Did you need something…?” They asked hesitantly, interrupting their mother as she admired the room. The question caught her attention and she playfully rolled her eyes, drifting down to land on the floor and wave a hoof dismissively at them. “PSSSH, whaaaat?! I can’t visit my own kiddo from time to time?” Something about the slightly higher pitch to her voice gave the pegasus the impression that she was hiding something. But Monochrome didn’t have much time to voice any other questions as their mother gave the room another glance around. “Geez, this place is looking AWESOME, Chromey! haven’t been in here since you moved in last year!” She sighed wistfully. “Takes me back to when I had my own cloudominium...good times! How are you liking it here? I’m sure having your own place is pretty cool, huh~?” “It is,” Monochrome agreed, their gaze flicking off to one side. They shifted in discomfort, feeling oddly vulnerable. “It’s been nice.” This was weird...right? Their mother visiting was already throwing them off. But really, a random opportunity to ‘make up’ with her had literally just waltzed in unannounced.  Yet something this unplanned was not making the idea of it any easier. ‘I’m not ready for this...am I supposed to spend time with her? I don't even know what to talk about.’ It was then that Rainbow’s eyes caught sight of a certain wall in their hallway, and her magenta eyes lit up. “Now wait a damn second, you sneaky little- are those ribbons?!” She briskly trotted over and Monochrome followed close behind. The hallway wall presented an assortment of Monochrome’s art pieces, all lined up neatly in black picture frames. Some pieces were simply projects Monochrome had wanted on display, while others had ribbons of different shapes and sizes pinned at the corners. Rainbow Dash let out a long whistle at the sight. “Like mother like kiddo, if you ask me!” “Sure...” Monochrome took in her face, how her eyes gleamed with some form of excitement at the sight before her. No surprise, though. She used to collect ribbons and trophies herself. Their ribbons, regardless of how they won them, just showed her that her kid had managed to follow her hoofsteps in some way. The artwork that won them in the first place probably didn’t matter much to her. That’s what their mind reasoned, at least. “Pft, of course Tank is the very first picture here! You always did like drawing the little guy~” Rainbow snickered, taking in a faded sketch of the turtle. That was true. But Monochrome was familiar with this piece in particular. It was done in their last year of elementary, when they were ten years old and their art skills were still in their earlier stages. With their current experience, Monochrome could now see that the shading values in the sketch weren’t very prominent and some lines were messy. But the effort was clear. They had been given an opportunity to choose an animal to draw for an art project, and they had jumped on the chance to draw their best friend. Though they also remembered how their younger self had left out Tanks limbs, just so he’d be easier to draw (though what beginner artist hadn’t done something similar at least once?) This was probably the oldest one they had chosen to frame up, and Monochrome felt no shame looking at such old art. Catching flaws they hadn't noticed when they first had drawn the piece only proved how much they had grown as an artist since then. But as they stared at the sketch, aware of their mother’s presence beside them, they were reminded of the second half of the memory tied to it. Their teacher had thought that it’d be fun to hold a mini contest - to let the class vote on their favorite drawing on presentation day and even invite parents to attend the class for the viewing. Their mother Daring had caught a bad cold and couldn’t attend at the time, so naturally, Rainbow Dash had been the only one left. Despite having just returned from one of her missions, Rainbow had promised to go. Monochrome had looked forward to showing off a special drawing of their mother’s pet, not only to the class, but to her as well. ...though when she didn’t show, Monochrome only found out upon returning home that their mother - while she was out that morning - had gotten caught up in a run-in with the Wonderbolt’s captain, Spitfire. Whatever the two had managed to catch up on that day, Rainbow had...lost track of time. ‘She was never good at handling distractions…especially when tired. Guess that’s where Ven gets his clumsiness from.’ The thought was meant to be half-hearted. A distraction. It had been years since that time. And yet, remembering it now was making them even more aware of her presence, and the feelings she brought. ‘Well this isn’t helping.’ “WHOA-HOA, what’s this?” Rainbow Dash was now focused on the next framed image, one Monochrome knew they had done with graphite pencils, if the crisper shading and details didn’t give it away. Monochrome had been fourteen, and they remembered their early high school art project theme; heroes. There in the image, Daring Do stood alone at the top of a cliff, her dark hair billowing while she outstretched her wings. An image of strength, and one they were personally fond of for obvious reasons. Looking at the image again, Monochrome wouldn’t have minded having ‘Valor Wind’ standing alongside Equestria’s most underappreciated hero. But at the time, Venture Gale hadn’t even joined Rainbow Dash on her missions yet; not until two years later, in fact. “How come I’ve never seen this one before?” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms, jokingly shooting Monochrome a judging look despite the smirk on her muzzle. “Oh I see how it is! You know, if you wanted Spectrum Storm to pose for a drawing, all you had to do was ask!” “...I did.” Rainbow’s grin fell immediately, a look of surprise and puzzlement replacing it. Monochrome winced. They hadn’t meant for that to come out as harsh as it did. “Huh? Wait, when?” Monochrome paused, letting themself actually choose their words for once. Yet another memory association uncovered; how the Heroes Project was originally going to be a surprise tribute for both mothers’ adventure identities. “When I was planning this piece. You just...had trouble focusing.” Monochrome quietly thought back on their mother’s inability to simply stand still. Which, as annoying as it was, was understandable in hindsight. Not everyone could stand or pose for a set period of time. But it was Rainbow’s attitude at the time that they remembered; the way she whined about wanting Daring to take her place, and the moment Venture Gale came home with a new game, Rainbow had perked back up from her hunched over state. 'Inconspicuously' moving towards the door, she had reminded Monochrome that Daring would be a "waaaay" better suited model than her. Afterwards she rushed out of the room without even waiting for an answer. After that, they just couldn’t get the right look or feeling down for “Spectrum”, and in the end Monochrome had given up and had chosen to stick with a Daring Do tribute. Frustration and that newfound blooming seed of jealousy probably didn’t help with the change of heart. Recreations with Venture just always seemed to be more fun for her. Her preference. “Oh…” Rainbow became quiet, looking down and rubbing her foreleg. Not knowing what else to say, Monochrome chose to leave Rainbow in her awkward silence. They focused instead on their artwork, hoping they could maybe find something different to talk or at least think about. Taking in this piece, Monochrome was reminded of how they really did used to enjoy reading their mother Daring’s work. From her Daring Do series to her Spectrum Storm sequel, the books had always been full of empowerment and adventure with a captivating writing style Monochrome could always recognize. But ever since “Valor Wind” made his debut, and Mo’s not-so-pleasant feelings arose...well, the last three books their mother had published - first prints she had joyfully gifted to them - were still sitting on their shelf, untouched. Monochrome couldn’t bring themself to, and it wasn’t even out of spite at this point. They genuinely had made various efforts to read the volumes, for the sake of supporting their mother’s hobby, but...doing so stirred up those unpleasant emotions, feeding a fire that only pushed them deeper into their own pool of insecurities and bitterness. And it frustrated them - it really did - that these things had to make them feel this way. This was their mother’s passionate work about their own family. Yet for the sake of their own emotional and mental wellbeing - even if it meant being out of the loop when it came to their brother's experiences out there- Monochrome had no choice but to lie about keeping up with Daring’s work. They avoided retellings of the adventures altogether. Now the pegasus could barely look at the covers of their mother's unread books without feeling a knot of guilt. ‘Alright, this was a bad idea. I get it. Everything has a negative connection to her, apparently.’ Monochrome searched their brain, ready to change the subject or at least find something else for their mother to focus on. Just as they were opening their mouth, they noticed Rainbow’s eyebrows shoot up, something further into the hall gaining her full attention. “Wait isn’t that…?” She trotted over a few frames down to a different art piece. Monochrome couldn't help but silently follow, curious. They never imagined their mother recognizing any of these pieces, with how much she had missed over the years. So after tracing the mare’s gaze to the exact image that was captivating her, Monochrome came to an abrupt halt at the sight. ‘Oh.’ It was a striking piece, if they could say so themself. Their first attempt at mixed media. Using charcoal and chalk pastels, their twelve-year-old self had deviated from drawing from life and drew from their imagination instead. So staring back at the two of them was a Timberwolf, posed elegantly with dark, strong tones to highlight its ferocity. But unlike a normal Timberwolf, it was spring-inspired. The beast’s branches was adorned with various glowing flowers, giving it a hauntingly beautiful look. Monochrome remembered how excited they were of the concept, pouring their heart into the piece a little each day. At the time, it had been one of their best and proudest works. And it still was. The blue ribbon hanging from the pictures corner said enough. And yet, right now, remembering that day brought back a hollow feeling in their chest. For once, Rainbow Dash wasn’t grinning, or speaking with unbridled confidence. As she spoke, her voice was strangely soft and pensive. “I remember this one...middle school, right? This was the drawing you entered into your first art show. When you gained your cutie mark.” Rainbow became quiet again, staring at the artwork. It would take a moment longer before she would turn to Monochrome, a regretful look on her face. “I...wish I could’ve been there, kiddo. Really. What I would’ve given to see you earn your mark that day.” Monochrome averted their gaze, an ache they had worked years to will away beginning to rise back from the depths Things had taken an abrupt, dangerous turn in Southern Equestria. And the morning of the show, Rainbow had received the news. “You were busy.” Monochrome murmured. They tried, and failed, to think of more to say. What else was there to say? Even if they had their doubts on just how much their mother Daring exaggerated in her books, they were aware of their mothers’ serious line of work. That’s why they had looked up to their parents, especially Rainbow Dash, in the first place. Maybe back then it was harder to grasp, but as an adult, they had an understanding. But that hadn’t prevented the damage. For the longest time, Monochrome had thought it was feeling forgotten that had damaged them and their relationship with their mother. But as they stood there, they realized it wasn’t just that. It was feeling forgettable. It was being in the background, where none of the things they enjoyed seemed to matter. It was feeling like a fleeting experience, easy to replace with something more interesting than they were; an adventurous life. Ponies who were far more similar to her. And even if it wasn't entirely their mother's fault that they had this complex - growing up a quiet, introverted child had made socialization harder after all - she had without a doubt contributed greatly to it. Art had always been a part of them. It wasn’t just a fun hobby turned into a job. It was also self-expression, used to convey the things that they was passionate about and the things that were important to them. So if there was no one to receive and respond with equal fervor, if the one pony they wanted to convey these things to felt disinterested and absent - then...what kind of existence was that, keeping these things to themself? ‘A lonely one.’ Sure, Rainbow made short-lived attempts at asking about their work and would give her compliments. But after everything, how was Monochrome supposed to believe she had any ounce of genuine interest in what they loved? In them. Words bubbled up to Monochrome’s mouth before they could even stop them. “I always wanted to share this part of my life with you.” The words came out soft. And no matter how much they felt like more had to be said, they just couldn’t find the words. Unable to meet Rainbow’s gaze, Monochrome kept their eyes locked on their art. They could feel her eyes on them, and soon, Monochrome regretted even speaking. Then they felt something softly brush over their back, followed by the warmth of a body pressing into them. It tore Mo’s attention away, and there, they took in the sight of their mother, staring guiltily at them. “I really missed a lot, huh...I’m really sorry kiddo” She sighed, withdrawing her wing. “I know you’re a workaholic like me, and you love your alone time. I always try to give you your space and stuff, but...it’s been forever since we’ve actually done anything together. We barely get to see each other anymore.” A red hue came over Rainbow’s face, and she ducked her head while rubbing her neck. “Look, I’m not any good with words-” ‘... so that’s where I get it from-’ “-but I just hope we can...hang more? Like, maybe you can drop by more! When you can? I know Ven’s been missing you too.” “Is...that why you came by today?” Rainbow blinked. “Huh?” Monochrome shifted in place. “You said earlier that you just wanted to visit, but...you’re kind of a bad liar, mom. No offense.” “Oh.” Rainbow nervously laughed, awkwardly rubbing her hooves together. “Aaactually, um...your mom kind of told me that you and Skychaser aren’t a thing anymore. So I wanted to check up on you? You know, without making it weird! But I was hoping I could convince you to join us when you’re not working. Cause I mean...it could help. Maybe?” It was surprising, to say the least. Rainbow was very obviously embarrassed talking about any of this. Monochrome had never seen their mom this awkward before. But there was some sort of opening here. Monochrome just had to find it. “I’m fine. My friendship with Sky is going to be okay.” A pause. “...I’ll be busy for at least another week or two. I’m a little behind. But...if you guys are still around after I catch up on my commissions, I’ll see if I can come over.” Rainbow Dash perked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. With a joyous laugh she zoomed up into the air, doing an aerial spin. “WHOO! Sounds awesome to me!” Still loud as ever....but Monochrome was willing to start adapting. Their ear then twitched, catching a faint sound behind them. Something like slow scratching. The pegasus knew who they’d see before they even turned around. Rainbow, too, seemed to notice the extra presence and gasped dramatically. “TANK!!” At the sight of his old caretaker, Monochrome watched as Tank’s mouth widened into a radiant gummy grin, his eyes practically shining with glee. The very sight struck Mo, knowing just how much Tank loved their mom. Both Rainbow and Monochrome simultaneously moved to meet the slow turtle. While Monochrome picked Tank up and cradled him, Rainbow lowered her hooves back down to the floor. “It’s so great to see you, buddy!” the mare exclaimed, trotting closer to him. Tank was already stretching his neck forward in Monochrome’s arms, opening his mouth to let out a cheerful little turtle-grunt in return. With a grin as wide as her little friend’s, Rainbow lowered her head and met Tank’s snout with her own in an affectionate nose boop. It was one of many that they had shared in the past, even before Monochrome was born. Monochrome watched the scene with a small sense of wonder, letting the two have their moment. Rainbow was happily asking the tortoise a variety of questions, and Tank’s turtle-grunts and squeaks responded to her with a matching energy. The sight of Tank’s happiness with their mother had Monochrome’s gaze softening, a gentle smile forming on their muzzle. It was true that Monochrome and Rainbow were barely anything alike. In personality, in interests. But Monochrome now realized that there was one single thing that they did share. Their mutual love for Tank. There was a chance it was the only thing that connected them and made them alike in any way. But maybe...maybe that was a good enough place to start than anything. Not just for their own benefit, but Tank’s as well. “Hey mom. I may be busy...but how about letting Tank stay with you guys? You know, until he needs to hibernate next week.” Both Tank and Rainbow Dash looked up at the pale pegasus, both equally caught off guard. “Wait, really?” Mo nodded. “Yeah. You and I aren’t the only ones who haven’t seen each other much. Tank deserves some one-on-one time with you, don’t you think? It’s been a while.” Rainbow and Tank exchanged glances. It didn’t take long for a grin to break back out on their mother’s face. Tank’s smile was taking a tad bit longer to form. “You know what? That’s a great idea! It could be like old times, buddy! You and me and some racing and Spectrum Storm books! What d’you say?” Tank nodded as quickly and eagerly as he could. Monochrome couldn’t hold back their chuckle. Of course he’d be on board. “Awesome!” Rainbow looked back over at her kid, already brimming with excitement. “Where’s Tank’s stuff? I can totally pack everything in a heartbeat!” “Everything’s in my room.” Monochrome motioned their head further into the hallway. “Last door on the left. You can find a travel bag in my closet-” “GOT IT!” With a burst of wind and a rainbow trail, their mother was dashing down the hall and into the bedroom. The sound of rummaging could be heard even from down the hall, and Monochrome prayed she wouldn’t somehow make a mess of their room. Feeling a nudge at their chest, Monochrome returned their attention to the turtle in their arms. There was a glimmer to his green eyes, and Mo easily recognized it as a mix of pride and gratitude. “You’re welcome, buddy.” Monochrome murmured, smiling down at him. “I know I’ve been the one taking you to your hibernation spot for years...but just this once, I think it’s her turn to read you your bedtime story.” Guilt pinched at their stomach. “I guess I could be there too...but I don’t think I’m ready to be alone with her like that. Without you.” Monochrome frowned, their eyebrows drawing back. “Unless you need me there, that is. Then-” Tank slowly slid one of his arms out of his shell and gently laid his foot on Monochrome’s arm. He shone that crinkly smile up at them, and Mo knew he understood. The relief eased their worried mind. Mo deeply exhaled the rest of the worries out. “Thanks Tank...now then. Are you going to behave?” Tank paused, as if taking a moment to think about it, before smiling serenely and shaking his head. Monochrome’s own eyes crinkled in amusement and fondness. “Good.” With that, Monochrome placed a loving peck on top of his head, and it only took a few seconds longer before their mother was zipping back up to them, the travel bag tossed over her shoulder. “Alright, got Mr. Squeaks, you bed, your ‘copter and goggles...that should be everything!” Flying down to Monochrome’s level, Rainbow Dash gave her kid a curious look. “Hey, you sure you don’t want to come too, Chromey? You could stay in your old room for a while and do your work over at our place! We won’t bother you! I mean, it’ll be kinda lonely here by yourself, won’t it?”   Monochorme resisted a wince. They hadn’t really thought about the extra level of silence that’d exist without Tank being there. But it was like they had told Tank; they weren’t ready to move that fast. And they had other valid reasons. “I think I’d be able to concentrate better here. Besides, you know how my room gets cold and drafty now during the winter. It’s better to just keep my door closed.” “Well, if you say so!” With Tank in arm, Monochrome flapped their wings and joined Rainbow in moving towards the door. As their mother moved to open it, Monochrome took the chance to gently nuzzle Tank’s head. The realization that this was an early hibernation-send off was beginning to settle in, and that familiar ball of emotion was beginning to form within their chest. “I’ll see you in spring, Tank.” They whispered softly, only loud enough for him to hear. With a throaty noise in response, Tank affectionately rubbed his cheek against Monochrome’s. If it weren’t for Rainbow’s presence, Mo would have allowed their emotions to seep out. Thankfully, practice over the years had brought them enough control. ‘Yet somehow, this goodbye feels worse than every other one’ When their mother spun around and held out her forelegs with a smile, Monochrome carefully handed Tank over, moving their head every which way to make sure he was being held securely. With a sigh, Monochrome turned their attention back to their mother. “Don’t forget your copy of his favorite Daring Do book when he hibernates. You know he can’t-” “-fall asleep without it.” Rainbow finished in unison with Monochrome. The mare let out a snicker and Mo, surprisingly, felt the corner of their mouth pull up. “Right.” “Trust me, Chromey, I won’t!” Rainbow Dash smirked. “I’ll see you later then, pal! Don’t work yourself too hard!” “I’ll try not to.” With one last beam, Rainbow turned and began flying out the door. Monochrome followed her up to their doorway and hovered there as they saw the two off. It was then that the pegasus noticed a certain turtle head poke up over their mother’s shoulder, smiling at them. Mo practically felt their heart clench as Tank gave a little wave with his foot over Rainbow’s arm. Monochrome made sure to wave back, until neither of them were visible anymore. Monochrome retreated back into their house, letting out a heavy sigh as the stresses of that whole exchange finally caught up with them. They knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Hell, Monochrome had barely even scratched the surface of things. There was certainly still a long way to go before they could find the right words - and well...the courage - to convey all the things they had kept away. But hey...this was a start.

[fancuries]

Jingle, jingle, jingle...

Bells were heard, even before someone stepped onto the stage. Once someone did, it was clear where the source of that sound was coming from. A girl in a shiny yellow gown donning several bells and holing an envelope took center stage, her expression cold and unwavering. “Good evening everyone. I am Cure Ethereal.” The messy bun atop of her head shook until a tiny seal popped out. “And I’m Bobo!” She cheered, her attitude much more joyous than her Cure’s stern demeanor. “We will be presenting the category Best Digital Artist.” The Cure said. “Mi-I mean Ethereal! Do you have any experience with digital art-Bobo?” “Can’t say I have, though I do see all the hard work and creativity that goes into such a medium. It’s truly inspiring to see what one can create digitally, all that hard work and dedication perfecting their craft is very admirable.” “And it looks like a ton of fun-Bobo! Maybe I should start drawing, then I can be nominated for an award next year-Bobo!” “Bobo, can you even hold a pen?” “I-ah...hm...” The fairy pondered while staring at her flippers. “Anyway” Ethereal continued. “The nominees for Best Digital Artist are

Bethbythesea/Cure Splash “Gosh, their art is so lively and dynamic-Bobo! Such a pleasant style too, instantly recognizable-Bobo~” Bobo then whispered to the mic. “If you ever need a seal to model for you, call me.” Chancetodraw “Oooh their style’s very pretty and magical! Perfect for Precure-Bobo~ And all those stylish outfits they draw?? I’d adopt your lovely designs if I could-Bobo!” For a moment, it seemed like Bobo winked. Deneboom “Oh my goodness, look at all their artwork! So colorful and vibrant...One time, I stared at a rainbow for two hours straight, and I just might do the same with your art-Bobo!” Ethereal struck a concerned glance up at her fairy. Saka “Wow, so awesome, look at the anatomy and all these angles they’ve drawn in! This is quality stuff-Bobo~” If you could do on okay sign with a flipper, that’s what Bobo would be doing with her’s right now.

“And the winner is...” Ethereal was just about to open the envelope. “Wait!!” Bobo quickly flew out of her Cure’s hair. “I’d just like to say, even if you don’t win, everyone in this category is truly talented and deserve lotsa love and support for their amazing art-Bobo! So if you can, please consider commissioning these artists for more fantastic drawings-Bobo~” She smiled. “What if they’re not taking commissions right now?” Ethereal asked plainly. “Oh. Then...find your favorite drawing of theirs, give it a like, reblog it and most importantly comment ‘Hi!! I super duper love your drawings more than anything in the world, it makes my day to see it, you’re incredibly talented, and I would die for your artwork! <333’” Ethereal blinked. “Don’t you think that’d come off a bit too strongly?” “What would you comment Ethereal?” Bobo asked, taking her place back atop Ethereal’s head. “Me? Umm... ’Hey. Nice art.’” “...Not bad!” Bobo clapped. “Everyone go comment mine or Ethereal’s idea~” “...Well with that out of the way. The winner for Best Digital Artist is...” She opened the envelope and read aloud the name. “Saka! Congratulations!” “__”

[four-pages-zine-blog]

Issue 2: Interview with Hannah Depop: @guthball

Q: What brought you to Depop? How long have you had your shop? Did you/Do you sell anywhere else?

A: Depop appealed to me because it's so clear that its basis is in community. I’ve been able to connect, collaborate and create for cool people I might’ve never clicked with otherwise, and I actually, really, truly cherish that. Plus, the layout and features are so user-friendly, there’s never been an intimidation factor. I created an account about two years ago. And I’m still here, maybe just because they added the video feature...

The reception of my art from depop users has been so gratifying. I would not have immersed myself in resin so extensively without that encouragement. It wasn’t long before I joined depop that I began experimenting with the medium; I loved the look, but had no idea what its creation entailed. So I took in a few tutorials, bought a kit, and have grown, or attempted to, from there.

The entrepreneurial bug bit me early. My mom owns and operates a drycleaners, and has allowed me to sell there since I was a kid. It began with hand-drawn bookmarks, friendship bracelets, that kind of thing. Now, I have a display of resin magnets and keychains there. I do local shows here and there, too. Mostly for fun, profit’s never promised. It’s always worth it, though, just to gauge reactions to my work- I love answering questions on process, seeing little kids play with the magnets, or experiencing the moment someone takes a closer look at something I made and really GETS it.

Q: (Your magnet faces make me so happy to look at!) How long have you been making them for, and what inspired the making of these characters?

A: I’m so glad you enjoy the face magnets! They are a blast to make. I just looked through my photos to see how long ago I made my first- it was back to September of 2016. Wow. That piece now resides with my sister, totally forgot it.

A lot of my work is influenced by quirks in process and material, the expression pieces are no exception. At their inception, I’d done a few projects with encapsulated googly eyes before, and had a bunch of sequins I'd bought to make flower accents. It was around then that I realized that the plastic formed packaging from my jewelry findings could be repurposed as a smooth, glossy tile mold, in a range of sizes PERFECT for magnets and other accessories. Toony faces have always been my go-to in drawing, and these introduced a way to marry my illustration style with resin work. I've put together so many goofy lookers now, made out of all sorts of materials, and set in all kinds of molds. I've refined my technique, but still never really know how (/if!) they’ll come together until they’re popped out. The features are all cut and glued, then layered in backwards, so I don’t have a great view as they cure. Pieces can shift, bubbles can sneak their way in, some materials distort when submerged in resin. It can be a challenge to make sure nothing's too out of place, but the glitches can be where the character sneaks in.

I mostly improvise the face designs, but sometimes, just to shake up the procedure, I doodle ideas out beforehand. There’s definitely inspiration from drag, from cartoons, from geometry, texture, and color. I know there’s one with a pout I ripped straight from a photo of my sister- I'm into the idea of full-on custom magnetic portraiture, but no one’s come to me requesting their likeness in sequins and googly eyes yet. The fact that kids think they're fun is also a huge influence: that motivates me to make them as kooky and colorful as I can. There is a selection that made it to a preschool classroom, and it’s been reported back to me that all the kids like to play and even fight over them. I love that!

Q: Do you have any favorite artists that inspire you?

A: She’s inspired by way too many artists!!! A few off the top of my head: Keith Haring, Hattie Stewart, Jillian Evelyn, Betsey Johnson, Parker Day, Shantell Martin, Siobhan Gallagher, Kendra Dandy, Tuesday Bassen, Erté, Klimt, Kay Nielsen, Man Ray, Chagall, Dalí, Hirschfeld, Picasso, Gary Baseman, Kenny Scharf, Neal Levin. If that’s not a weird and wide enough swath... I follow hundreds, if not thousands, of creators of all sorts on instagram. Admittedly extensive, but a wonderful pool of inspiration to dip into.

I have always had an interest in the arts, and (…aquarius here) make a point to be very open to all sorts of visuals. I’m content to take everything in, and very much, like, “like like like”-- it’s a whole thing when I don’t care for something, but I try not to play critic so much. I’m normally drawn to really graphic work, yet down to take the time to appreciate subtleties as well. I gravitate toward what’s wacky, clever, bold, evocative, sparkly, dimensional… a lot of stark contrast as well, a lot of black and white. But also a lot of pink and kitsch. I'm a maximalist, I obsess. That might just be reflected in my work.

And, duh, I admire other resin artists. The medium is SO versatile and I love to see its limits stretched. I put a lot into distinguishing my style from others who create with resin, but there’s major inspo in what everyone else is coming up with! Shout out to my fellow resin-making depoppers :) I’d also like to mention Lauralee Benjamin (if you're not familiar, please change that immediately), who has found inventive ways to use my pieces as accents on her beautiful work. That collaboration is all thanks to depop, and has inspired me in ways I never could have expected.

Q:What is some of your process when you create? (Do you listen to music, create alone or with friends, where is your work space?)

A:Oh my god. It’s all over the place. A lot of my process is just seeing what I can get away with.

So much can go wrong; resin is a finicky substance. I employ a variety of techniques, many developed through trial and error. I try to create unique effects, or emulate things I’ve seen before in my own way. Many of my projects are worked in layers, transformed with each pour. It can be as simple as mixing a bunch of glitters together. Even that can be tricky, though! I can get very in my head about intricacies, and try to balance the detail-oriented with simpler projects, or whatever'll give me a break from the eyestrain. Most of my stuff comes from sitting down at my workspace, assessing my supplies, and sorting it out from there. Once I have a batch of resin mixed, it's a race to get it divided into colors and divvied into molds. At times it requires a lot of precision, and a willingness to just wait it out and see what’ll happen.

Tools and materials dictate much of the process. I have a few staples, but keep an eye out for new supplies just about everywhere. I get the biggest kick out of repurposing components that might’ve otherwise been trashed. Think broken jewelry, old cosmetics, sequin scraps, and single-use plastics. I intend to look into eco-resin and biodegradable glitters down the line; it’s a matter of cost and accessibility, but adjustments I find necessary, at least for my own sake, in continuing with this art form.

At the end of last year I cleared a space in my (creepy) basement as a studio. It’s kept a hectic mess, but… that’s my nature. I work alone, save for a few times my sister has joined me. Friends have been invited to try in the past, but considering resin is such a time-sensitive, kind of hazardous, sticky thing, it’s not a great group activity for the uninitiated.

I work to an, errr, eclectic mix of podcasts and music. A lot of Sondheim, disco, Comedy Bang! Bang! and CBC Radio 2.

Q: What is your favorite piece you've sold so far?

A: Oooh, toughie. The first that comes to mind is one of the first sequin trays I made- it was a really specific rainbow pattern inspired by a book cover. I also love the custom name necklaces; they always turn out so badass! In a few instances, I've made pieces used in photo shoots or performance. Those are extra special to me, too.

Q: Where do you want to go next with your art?

A: My art is going to morph. I want to hone my skill in areas beyond resin, and then find ways to blend the edges. I want to keep pushing, but know when to pull back. I wish to collaborate more, to find solutions I’ve not yet reached, to make some of my outlandish ideas a bit more tangible. I want to build a brand and learn to accrue my worth for once.

And, maybe, down the line, tile a room with a mosaic of resin faces.

Q: What is your favorite fashion era?

A: I love an outrageous 80’s moment.

Q: Do you do commissions?

A: I adore doing commissioned work, and have had so much fun on prior personalized pieces. I am currently open to fulfilling some custom requests, just DM me, whatever!

Visit Hanna's shop!

Depop.com/guthball