Domestic Bliss
Some art I drew a month or so ago that I forgot to post (forgive me I have goldfish memory)
But anyways, Harlow's parents; Nicolas and Analyn! I am rotating them in my head like a microwave /pos
Original base under the cut:
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She didn’t mean to fall asleep in the diner, but Imogen hasn’t been sleeping well lately. She’s exhausted after a few hours at the farmer’s market, and stops off for a coffee before going back to the Sanctum. But after a few sips she dozes off, chin in her hands, buzzing quietly. She only wakes up because there’s a noise that startles her, and she blinks awake again, looking around to find the diner has gotten quite busy, no empty tables left. A bee flies out of her mouth just before she closes it, and Imogen rubs at her shoulder -- her wings are currently furled under a cardigan which is never comfortable.
“I’m sorry,“ she mumbles, blinking hard as she pulls herself back to full consciousness, aware that someone is near her table. “Do you-- I can, um, I can leave. If you need the table.” She’s still a little hazy, but lifts her almost-full coffee cup to her lips to take a few sips before she leaves; it’s gone cold. @okielyn
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@okielyn
"'bout time you came out. i've been rustling around for ages. deep sleeper, i take it?" he turns, eyes peering through the dark. he doesn't need the lights on to see her. nor does her cat, which is purring contentedly in his arms. "love what you've done with the place. don't suppose you could spare a room?"
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A Cat Named Fish
Analyn Potts successfully stifled her scream upon coming to the top of the stairs, but she did not manage to keep from dropping her laundry basket as her hands flew up to cover her mouth. When the basket hit the ground with a crack, the white man she’d seen laying on her couch with one of her cats on his chest lifted his head to look at her, and she doubled over in relief.
“Oh! Mischa, honey, you scared me,” she laughed, crouching down to put the fallen clothes back into the laundry basket.
“Sorry, Mrs Potts.” Mischa gave her a small smile before returning to petting the purring cat. “Did not know you were home.”
“I had an appointment with the dentist, so I took the day off.”
She stood, balancing the basket on her hip, and looked again at Mischa. He knew right then that she would ask but he still hoped she wouldn’t.
“Why aren’t you at school, honey?”
He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then scratched the cat behind the ears until she purred loud enough to drown out the sound of his heartbeat.
“Got angry,” he said, still only looking at the cat. “Penny said, go home. Calm down, then come back. I cannot get calm at home, so Ricky said go to his home. I pet cat, I calm down. But if I go back to school now,” he looked at the non-existent watch on his wrist, “I get back to class, then twenty minutes later, bell rings and I walk ten minutes back here for movie night because is Friday. So I stay.”
Mischa had gotten better at discerning pity from concern since he’d first landed in Canada. When he looked up, Analyn had crossed the living room and put her basket down onto the coffee table, smiling at him kindly, almost maternally. Giving him time to move away, she extended her arm to ruffle his hair, but he only closed his eyes and sighed.
“You shouldn’t skip school, but it was good of you to step away from the situation that made you angry,” she told him, pretending not to notice his breath hitching. “I would offer you a hug, but we wouldn’t want to disturb Fish, would we?”
Mischa opened his now-red eyes and sniffed, looking from the cat to Analyn and back again. “You named her Fish?”
Reaching out to pet the grey cat, Analyn hummed. “Well- Fisher, but we call her Fish.”
Fish blinked open her eyes at hearing the sound of her name so many times. She stood and stretched, putting pressure on Mischa’s heart, then lay back down on her other side as he spoke.
“In my head, I call her тріска,” he said quietly. “That’s codfish. Because she has colour like codfish.”
Analyn smiled and smoothed his hair as she stood. “I like it.”
She took the laundry basket off of the table and turned to go to Ricky’s bedroom. Mischa stayed still, dropping his head back down and running his finger under тріска’s collar. A few moments passed in silence before Analyn poked her head around the corner.
“Mischa,” she started.
“Mhm,” he hummed, talking having become so much effort in the few minutes he’d been alone.
“Whenever you feel angry or need to calm down, you can always come here. Our guest room is always there for you, too. Okay?”
Turning his head, Mischa briefly saw his mother’s face instead of Mrs Potts. He swallowed. “Thank you. I will.”
Smiling, Analyn nodded with satisfaction and walked to the kitchen, preheating the oven and getting ready to make cookies for Ricky’s movie night.
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starter for @gumdrcp !!
“well, i’m not an expert... but there’s something not right, here.” at least the devil of a machine had waited until after being parked to blow a gasket. “i know a good mechanic that can get it sorted, but she’s going to need a tow.”
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starter for @gumdrcp !!
“who are you here for?” he asks, voice hoarse and ragged like he hadn’t spoken in a thousand years. he doesn’t turn to face his visitor. “you are here for someone, aren’t you?”
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