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secret-time-is-here · 2 years

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Out of all the "main" characters of the multiverse, funny enough, I think the "younger" ones are more likely to be selfless. Not all of them, but a couple would. This isn't really a note on AEJ, but the characters Nightmare Dream Cross, plus maybe Killer and Blue as a whole. (Nightmare and Dream kinda fit into the "younger" portion bc if you think about the multiverse in the grand scheme then Error is at least 600 or so--more than likely reaching 1K bc of resets time in save screen and time in the antivoid, and Ink is god of creation/protector of AUs so he has to be as old as the multiverse or in some age correlation with Error.)

THIS IS VERY LONG, SO EVERYTHING IS UNDER THE CUT, TRUST ME.

Nightmare Dream and Cross are more likely to flex to pressure. Cross makes more sense, but how I think about Nightmare and Dream is that they are more willing to push aside their wants and even their needs because of their past. Blue and Killer also fit into this thinking because of their character/past.

Blue may have countless years on his life, but most multiverses he still deals with resets and forgetting, he has the optimism of Papyrus but when added to the Star Sans', he is still just a mortal. He is more likely to push away his need for sleep and food to help others, especially if he wants to keep up with Ink and Dream.

On that note, Dream is also likely to push away his needs to keep up with Ink (So the cycle kind of feeds itself here). Ink is (despite lack thereof) wholeheartedly immortal, they require no such needs. They have not lived as a mortal once in their life. They may eat and sleep, but they have never had true mortality, stuck in the sketch of a world and then finding their way to the antivoid.

Dream on the other hand, lived his first years as a seemingly ageless mortal. As did Nightmare. However, the difference between Dream and Nightmare, is that Dream spent his time with the village. It's likely he often had to push himself constantly to help others, forgoing sleep and pushing himself past exhaution. Especially considering the age he and Nightmare lived in, and that often times the village is some distance away, not only would Dream have to walk around and help others past his comfort point with likely little to not food--being poor and probably nothing to trade for food, probably only given food as a reward for help--but then he also has to walk back at the end of the day, and doing that in the summer heat, raining fall, cold winter, and raining spring? Dream was likely never taught that this wasn't an okay practice, and Ink doesn't know better--since by the point they meet they're both immortal--so chances are Dream carries this practice of pushing himself past burnout and breaking point into his centuries.

Nightmare is similar, but not the same circumstance. He may have had to undergo loss of food like Dream, but he had to go without what's considered a basic need to nigh all of humans: social need. Dream is at the village, villagers hate him, and whatever travelers happen by are a dice roll. He works without play, from a young age he had to work and work to survive, no time for play. Gathering what food he could get from the forest while keeping an eye on the tree. Not to mention later on when the villagers start to physically express their hatred at him, I could only begin to imagine not only the mental but physical harm and exhaustion that would cause. Nightmare carried this on--not because he doesn't know better, no, Nightmare is a smart man with careful planning and the multiverse at his fingertips--but because he has to. When you're the most hated in the multiverse, you have to put needs aside for safety. Immortality brought him no need for sleep and food, which helped the primary focus of safety--but not himself. That's not adding in when he gets the gang and has to make sure they are safe as well, otherwise they will be killed or used against him.

(I think you can tell who my favorites are by the paragraph size, although funny enough Cross isn't my favorite, I just went into huge detail)

Cross is similar, but on a more pressured and mortal scale. While Immortal safety and the struggle between that of a mortal mind and immortal power can never compare to a retail job, there is no denying that both are terrible fates. Cross doesn't have a retail job, the best I can compare it to in the Creators world would be being stuck as the son of a mob boss or military officer. He is pressured to be a perfect soldier from a young age with no obvious connection to others, underverse showed that he made connection to others over time, but never from his own universe. He had others by him, and through overwrites he may have gotten close to the humans or his brother, likely toriel and asgore, but the often outcome and circumstance of Cross doesn't leave him yearning for the return of his brother or fellow soldiers. He has a roof over his head and food on the table, but that is not enough to cultivate a living being, it's set up for someone to have a difficult life. A human needs to be social, we need social communication and companionship (keep in mind, this varys per person, I myself can last a while with just talking to people online and meeting in person a few times a month, I'm happy chilling at this computer by myself). A quick google search will tell you to keep a human happy you need at least 4 hugs a day for survival, 8 for maintenance, or 12 for growth. I sincerely doubt his mastermind father did any of the sort. Cross is the #1 person to push himself away for others, and across the fandom, everyone agrees this is his top flaw as a character, because of his upbringing and most of his life--remembering that while he's lived long, like blue, he can't remember it--he's hollow. He can care for himself, knows how to protect himself and if thrown into a random universe of mortals with nothing, he could survive. He's a character with a lack of anything "human" hobbies and interests are non-existent, they need to be so he can be a good soldier.

Killer is unique in this, he's the one that sits on the fence for me, and can lean towards being selfish or selfless. He's a clever character that does well as a "bad guy", he's the kind of character that can mask his entire identity easily. My interpertation of him is that he does well to act like a jackass, and plays it up to keep himself entertained, however, he's far from. Yes, he can be an utter asshole through misunderstandings or miscommunication, but I believe that rarely it's purposeful. To the wrong person, he may act like it's on purpose, to the right one that he cares about, he'll have his own little way specifically catered to that person that he's sorry. He's blunt in everyway except that of true emotion. "I'm sorry" and "I love you" are near unheard of from him, probably because he never be certain that he's honest of it. He's a character that acts like a giant liar that could get past Toph (I like old references, sue me), but I feel like he's more of an honest character. One that even when telling a lie, he'll hide truth in it. 1) Because he knows that a half lie works better than just a simple lie AND 2) I don't think he can find it in himself to lie. People don't expect the truth, and the surprise from getting the truth or telling a blunt truth is far more entertaining. Honestly is not something that humans have often in media (keep in mind, I stick by a code of honesty myself and hate most media/general society bc of it--although more recently bc of new gens getting sick and tired of it there's been waves of honesty in media and I'm 100% here for it). Onto the point of him being selfish or selfless: He masks his selfless, he doesn't care for the reward of being selfless and prefers to act like a persons favorite sweets waiting for them on their bed on a bad day of theirs is a coincidence. He kills to serve, when he started killing, it was because Chara told him to, and honestly, I doubt Killer find actual personal joy in it. He finds joy in it because it makes Nightmare stronger, because he knows Dust finds joy in it and its a bonding thing for them, because he likes being threatening with Horror, because it's really fucking cool to see Cross snap and finally start fighting with them.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I'm gonna go back to writing bc juices are flowing like ocean waves rn and I'm gonna go get these fuckin chapters done.

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alitreofpeace · 4 months

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2023 wrapped: part 1 - art recap!

i'll be honest, after the lowest art rate (2 drawings/year) that i achieved in 2022, i thought it would be really hard for me to bounce back from that, especially since i spent the first three months in severe creative burnout. i had to throw away a ton of art at the end of 2021, and that left a gaping emotional wound that made it hard to recover from, on top of the difficult academic year that 2022 proved itself to be.

however, we came back much stronger, with a sketch at the beginning of me and my fiance in my signature art style of I Cannot Draw Eyes.

i was actually really proud of this, especially because this would have taken me hours more just two years ago, and i was surprised that i was still... capable? either way, it gave me the drive to keep going.

my next drawing was this attempt at drawing markjin kissing - you will find a theme in following artwork - and it's nowhere near perfect but this was the first time i'd drawn two people kissing and didn't cringe and want to burn the end result, so major win for me.

my return to twitter was marked by me getting swept up in the hype that comes when one of my ships ends up doing something extremely homosexual, this time in the form of dropping a selfie with the most quintessentially Mark caption with donghyuck looking at him in a manner that i struggle to write about. and well, as a result, this drawing was born, in a creative burst after a long day of work, because that's what yaoi does to you.

heavily inspired by mark's golden hour, that always makes me think of aeri because i once forgot what song it was when she was singing it in her car - and later that year i find out she listened to the song almost ten thousand times. and i thought i was crazy for listening to broken melodies 1100 times.

one of the times this year that i thought i'd peaked was when i wrote stomachaches and dandelions (hate this distance) on the day before and on my birthday. 14000 words in forty-eight hours, i thought i would never top that, and the style of writing was so different from my usual, i could feel myself growing as a writer and i was so thankful that i didn't give up on writing for good.

i took one of my favorite paragraphs and made my first comic!

my birthday also brought my favorite selfie from this year! thank you nomin for smiling upon me, i know i'm your favorite :) i drew this on the train to milan, next to a bunch of loud aunties who were laughing and talking in fast italian while i sketched this out.

i also drew this picture that had dropped on the train after! again, never do i regret the day that i decided government assigned ships were the way to go.

sitting in a small hotel room on the italian countryside after my sister had fallen asleep (our sleeping times are always staggered by 2.5 hours at least), i drew this little sketch for my fiance, who adores all the cats in the hostels and attempts to win their favor constantly.

the end of july was when i attempted yet another comic, when i came across one of the cutest poems i'd ever read in my life (oranges by jean little). this was harder because i had to draw more people and i tried, and i know it's not perfect, but i am extremely proud of the way i drew that orange.

i drew a gift for my fiance towards the beginning of august! a collection of pictures and a bunch of little jokes on all the things i loved him for.

mid-august brought along the birthday of a man who has silently occupied a very high position on my bias list since i got into nct.

to this day, i still call myself a Jaemin Girl when i buy cute things for myself and turn my dosas heart-shaped and eat when i'm supposed to.

in the middle of a career crisis, vitamin d deficiency, and academics kicking my ass, i couldn't draw for another month and a half, but my wayv brainrot came back strong and i found myself making a quick triplets sketch towards the end of september.

getting back into the drawing groove, i found myself sitting at my laptop for a solid five hours thinking about nomin kissing. hence, this. i have nothing more to say for myself. it's that goddamn magazine's fault.

christmas nomin drove me damn near insane, a fact that the pass girls and ila can definitely attest to, and in the middle of stressing about how much i had to write for it, i ended up drawing for it instead (do you see what i mean when i said there would be a theme?).

one of my biggest dreams is to have an artist draw art for my fic, but until then, i think i'm quite happy multitasking. i was particularly proud of this one, it was really nice to complete.

i started drawing more on paper in november, just to remember what it was like to do that again, and i thought it would help me get better at copy drawing, considering that original drawing is really not my forte. here are some of my favorites!

i drew the final drawing of the year this morning! mildly melancholy, but i am genuinely so happy at the end of this year, and i am so proud of all the art i managed to create. it was a great year.

here's to an even more creative 2024!

#thi.art #2023 wrapped #art #nct #wayv #kpop #fanart

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shirecorn · 3 years

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how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

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shinondraws · 2 years

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I feel you on losing the spark to create anything big or ambitious. It feels like my output for the last two years has been primarily sketches and other small, quick things. When I started drawing and few years ago, I was trying a lot more to figure things out and make bigger pieces with an actual idea behind them or learn about composition and all that. Now like 80% of my art is doodles in my sketchbook because I can never sit down to do some big piece with thought behind it.

(cont) Partially I'm fine with it because I do think I'm acquiring some more technical skill such as doing better linework or learning a little more about anatomy but in other ways it feels like my head is stuck in a cave and I just don't have the brainspace or energy to come up with interesting concepts or actual ideas anymore.

I think for what it's worth it may be a good thing to just do something just to keep the gears moving and gaining the mileage. I also have to say that it is just fine to do sketches and doodles as long as you enjoy it. I think it's when you feel like something is missing or you're not getting the same kind of fulfillment or joy out of what you do that it might be time to do something about it. I think the combination of losing the spark but still keeping up the grind can potentially lead to a burn out of sorts (not talking about the kind of physical/mental exhaustion necessarily but creative burnout).

In the past two to three years my art has been mostly just simple drawings without an actual idea or a thing I would like to communicate. I do have a ton of different ideas for bigger pieces but starting on any of them feels daunting.

Time is one aspect. There is never enough of it these days and I feel like the little free time I have is squeezed in between deadlines and schedules. I think the kind of creativity and art making I'm missing requires a certain kind of fluidity, breathing space. Not a time slot that I must use effectively.

External and internal expectations and demands are definitely a factor for me and while I have kind of been able to detach from social media a bit and only using it as a dumping ground (against all social media tips) but it frees up some of my mental space at least.

I just miss the feeling of being really inspired by something and giving into the feeling. Like when I used to make pieces inspired by songs. I would just listen to the song and get fully immersed and just draw and paint whatever it was that I saw or felt. Now I feel like just when I manage to grasp that feeling I can't keep a hold of it. I know it is there but I feel like I am pushing it away. it's not just the external limitations like time but I think I'm actively repelling the surge and telling myself "later" and eventually it just fades. I fear it might not come back some day.

I wish I could just tell myself that yes, now! Let's do it!

Looking back at all the things that I made with so much passion, my art, my comic, even my commission pieces seemed to have more soul in it. I do feel at a loss. It's really sad.

#glueblade #ask

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chipper-asks · 3 years

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I don't know if you were already asked this, and I apologize if you were. But, do you have any recommendations on how to get out of art block?

I may have been asked this before and I don't remember, but i'll do my best to give some tips!

I feel like there are many different kind of art blocks? You can be uninspired, you can be physically out of commission, you can hate your own art, etc. Because of this there isn't just one way to work out of art block so let me shoot you a few things for you to try out.

Here's the first tip which is a sort of a blanket tip.

Don't feel bad about being in art block. You're not a machine or an ant. We're humans and we all need breaks no matter what the workaholic era we're in tells you. Your worth is not determined by how much you make in a week.

The worst thing you can do is feel guilty about not drawing. I've gone entire months without feeling a spark but when I least expect it i'm suddenly pumping out 1-2 posts a day. Just sit back and forget about drawing for a while. Sure you'll get rusty, but that's nothing a few sketch doodles wont fix!

Tip numero dos! This one works for me surprisingly well.

Give yourself responsibilities! Take on more chores, get more hours at your job, get a job, wait for summer to end and get homework (if you're still in school), (if you're out of school) take a course, run errands for your family, open up commissions, etc

While I was in school my inspiration knew no bounds. Art block was a fleeting thing because I had other stuff to do that was more difficult than having fun and drawing. I joined the HK fandom during my last semesters at college and I was making 1-2 posts a day for 2 months straight. This was because I had a good amount of homework that I could do but I just didn't want to do.

After college my inspiration tanked and for a while I struggled to find any interest in HK. Keeping my AUs updated felt like a chore. Interacting with asks was draining (this all was probably worsened by burnout after graduation).

But as soon as I opened up my commissions, I gave myself a responsibility to other people, and now suddenly my interest in HK is renewing and I'm drawing my ocs again.

Number three!

Consume consume consume. Is there a show your friends recommended that you watch? Hilda? Trollhunters? FMA Brotherhood? How about movies? How to Train Your Dragon? The Lord of the Rings Trilogy? Aliens? What about books! The Name of the Wind? Dragonriders of Pern? Animorphs?

Your brain might be bored! It needs fuel to make those good ideas. Enjoy media apologetically because you're not feeling bad about art block!

There is a restriction to this tip however! Consuming media from places like youtube, twitter, facebook, reddit, etc, will not recharge your inspiration.

Your brain is bored and watching ridiculous speedruns is super entertaining and fun, but its not going to work! Social media is an expert at giving you those easy happy chemicals but juuust enough so you're not sated and you want more. You'll click through youtube video after youtube video and by the time you're going to bed you're going to feel as grey as you started out that morning.

Stay away from social media if your brain is bored (looking at other people's art and fanfiction is okay tho.)

Those are all the tips I can think of from my own experience dealing with artblock! I may have more buried somewhere under the folds of my noggin but I think those are the big three.

1: Don't blame yourself for art block

2: Give yourself something harder to do

3: Watch/Read that thing you've been meaning to

#asks #anonymous

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rabbithub · 3 years

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Haunted Painting!AU: Day 3

(In this episode of Haunted Paintings and How to Survive Them: There are fucking animals everywhere-

Also this is segregated from Death Palette's three lives rule, so the artist can take a bit more burnout. (we hope.))

You don't speak for a moment. You half expected to probably be crucified upside down at calling the subject of the painting 'Diavolo', but he seemed to take to it well. "You are not a sociable person." He says, grinning with amusement.

"...I haven't been for a while." You point out, refraining from snapping. "Long story."

"If you are unable to keep a acceptable conversation, then perhaps painting me a companion will suffice." 'Diavolo' answers back. "Preferably one similar in color to my waistcoat."

An animal with black fur. Seems pretty easy enough. You feel your phone vibrate, but you are more focused on finding that cat. You find it staring up the tree, and sketch it before it runs off. You also notice a bird in the tree, and sketch that as well.

As you walk around, you notice a door that your never seen before. You open it to be met face to face with a horse. 'Of course.' you tell yourself. 'There would be a horse here. Nothing makes goddamn sense in this place.' You sketch the horse, and notice a empty birdcage farther along the room. "Sorry, big guy- just gonna-" You scoot past the horse to sketch the birdcage, then scoot out of the room. 'Well, I know what I'm not painting.' You tell yourself as your the door. 'How the hell would a horse fit inside a room?!'

You sigh, but see a rabbit sleeping in a tree and a dog waiting below it. You quickly sketch those in as well. You finally check your phone.

[Buyer][Day 3]

'Look, I might have not be a good artist, but your attitude is just as bad! So what if that dog started biting you?! I had nothing to do with it!'

'Geez, you even got mad when I painted a birdcage before a bird!'

'Fuck- my chest... I still remember my first cat... Maybe...'

[Owner][Day 3]

'So, the animals move within the painting! I can use this to get the dove into the birdcage!'

[Buyer][Day 3]

'I tried with the dog again, but it ate the rabbit I painted! I'm sorry, tough guy... I didn't think it would hurt the rabbit-'

'Hang on- if you spare me, I'll introduce you to someone- they're going through a lot right now and tend to be gloomy, but they have a small following and know their stuff! They'll paint you any way you like! Just let me go, pleas'

[Researcher][Day 3]

'While the painting's true title is unknown, it has the common title of "The Noble with the Black Rose". There are many paintings that use the same model, and were painted in the first half of the twentieth century- so a common theory is that they were painted by a collective of artists in the same time period, and well known portraitists as well, meaning they were commissioned fairly well by a wealthy patron.'

'Many of these portraits exist in modern days, and there are art collectors dedicated to completing this series. I have visited such a collector with similar portraits; matching all the features of this mysterious young man down to the colors of his clothing. However, the identity of the young man is still unknown.'

"Note to self: when I get back home unscathed, check if she's alive, take her out to drinks, and then punch her dead in the face." You tell yourself, regarding your possibly late dealer friend. You also notice a dog sitting by you and you quickly sketch it.

'He doesn't like dogs, if I remember what she mumbled about, and no way in hell I'm painting a horse in that room.' You muse, stepping to the canvas. "Be patient with me today." You say, keeping your tone even. "I can assure you're not getting a dog or a goddamn horse."

'Diavolo' cocks his head at the horse quip, but ignores it. Your soul alights your brush, and you paint a black bird- however, it turns white. You stared at the canvas, both worried and confused. "It turned white again?" 'Diavolo' asks, perplexed.

'While I want to paint the cat, it will eat the... dove?' You muse. 'I'll paint the birdcage first.' Your soul turns a gold color, and you paint a birdcage in the corner of the room. "...A cage?" He asks again, this time seemingly seeing what you were doing.

"Trust me." You say, your body trembling as your soul burns black. You paint a regal looking black cat, and you watch the dove fly into the birdcage, with the cage door closing behind it. The cat looked unimpressed at this. You lean against canvas, tired.

"...You look tired." 'Diavolo' notes, a faint tone of concern in his voice.

"... I'm- I'm okay." You answer, pulling yourself up. You manage to paint a black rabbit on his lap. It promptly falls asleep, tooth-purring as it did so.

"It's a bit large, but I'll overlook that." 'Diavolo' answers, looking at it. The cat ignores the sleeping rabbit, fortunately. You sigh, tired. "I'll at least have some company to pass the time."

"....I'- It's still raining." You note, trembling.

"It must be your gloomy nature bringing it." 'Diavolo' sighs. "...Replace the cover. You need to rest. You're about to keel over." You silently obey, stumbling into your room. You flop onto the bed, falling asleep.

"Oh! These are beautiful." Your sister says, her eyes bright.

"I've been practicing with animal portraits lately." You say, proud. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty great- they'll send me home tomorrow at the earliest." Your sister answers. "Although, I really wish he wouldn't have...." You realize who she was talking about.

"I talked to security about that." You say. "They'll keep an eye out for him, and make sure he doesn't come in anymore. He won't hurt you anymore."

"Thank you." Your sister says, smiling. "You really look after me, and I'm really grateful for it."

You wake up to your phone buzzing and the sound of rain and thunder. You idly look over the messages on your phone.

[Researcher][Day 3]

'Now the question remains, why is this piece alone cursed? None of the other paintings of 'The Noble with the Black Rose' have this curse- so it must have to do with the painter of this piece.'

'Despite it bearing no signature, I was able to gain some information from the gallery's owner, a sculptor, and the painter's landlord. Ah- it must be +$?8282)+@+... She's been long passed away. It's been guessed the landlord was the first victim.'

'A theory could be that something dreadful happened between the model and the painter, this being the last painting in a series. The boy disappeared from history, as no one knows of him. His enmity must have entered the painting and cursed it. After that, he proceeded to ki...'

You stand up, opening the door. You uncover the painting, noticing 'Diavolo' lying in a bed. "...am I disturbing you?"

"No." 'Diavolo' answers, speaking softly. "The animals you painted vanished. Would you disappear as well?"

"I hope not." You answer. "I'll finish you first, then I'll go home. Where would you be if I did that?"

"A fair point." 'Diavolo' chuckles. "I was thinking- if we were to play a game, would you indulge a final chance for yourself?"

"...a game?" You expected something like that. "I guess if I lose, I die."

"However, if you manage to win by some fluke, I'll let you use those steps." 'Diavolo' points to a set of disordered steps. "...if you win, of course."

#jjba diavolo #jjba part 5 #jjba #Diavolo #death Palette #matsuro palette #haunted painting!au

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory. His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age. Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?” What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #reader insert #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #creepypasta fanfic #A cure for insomnia

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relaxxattack · 3 years

Note

(this is like 1.3k words btw probably should have mentioned that)(I haven't reread this in like two weeks so gl)

Sometimes it's wise to not open your mouth. That was the first thing Ran had learned while traveling to the other world.

A few half-seconds after that, he learned that humans were a danger, and violent. Seemingly flinging their sloppily made weapons at any being they didn’t immediately recognize. He had to learn a lot of things in those few moments he had spent on that green filled-plain. He can still relay them in his mind, every now and then he finds an odd obligation to.

“Do you think I make a good general?” Jackie asked his otherworldly friend, the small man’s eyes tracing horizon in front of them. The calm lavender of the setting sun being clouded out of view by blooming rose-bushes.

Rule 1 is a lesson Ran finds himself relaying quite a bit.

Reassurances began itching themselves in the back of his throat, the small compliments of leadership and respect laying uncomfortably on Ran’s teeth and bitterly against his tongue.

An empty and distant “How so?” was what left his mouth in their place.

“It’s just,” Jackie's steps slowed for a moment. “I’m not a warrior, or- or even a soldier really. I just miss,” the general paused, stopping himself “God, I shouldn't have won that duel-”

“What do you miss?” Ran interrupted

Jackie hitched his breath and bit the inside of his lip, a flicker of pain sparking in his eyes “it's complicated.”

Human emotions were, with lack of a better word, odd. A single twitch of the eye or the wrinkle of the nose could have hundreds of roads leading to it, each becoming less and less paved as it got closer to its destination.

What further complicated this was that different expressions meant different things for different people, something that was entirely alien to the enderman, and something that took a lot of readjusting to become common to.

It was excruciatingly difficult with Jackie however. Often there were universal mannerisms that showed emotion amongst everyone. Small certainties that made Ran’s job just a little bit easier.

All of these practices had been thrown out the window at the sight of the general. Ran had been required to evolve a keen eye for pointing out when his friend became distressed. Perhaps it was the tenseness of his jaw, or the way he forced his shoulders down from hiding away his neck.

They were small things, for often a hollow grin left a stain on the blonde man’s face.

Something ached in the back of Ran’s skull “do you just not want to tell me?”

Jackie allowed his head to sag.

“I don't want to tell anyone really,” the young man explained with a nervous laugh, view craning downwards towards the hoard of daffodils that had begun to blossom over the garden-path.

They were beautiful things, blooming in honey and sugar bells, their undersides being highlighted in a golden orange as the light split through the petals.

There was something mesmerizing about them, the stems pinching through the cracks in the pavement and the soft, enclosed buds flopping over the smaller strands of green that kept them connected to the rest of the plant.

The blond boy held a lonesome nostalgia for when he would pick them from the line of their roots, growing through the gravel path in his old back garden. How he and his sister would split the flimsy stems in half and taste their sour insides, the clear, sugary liquid stickying the tips of their fingers and flecks of green getting inside their fingernails.

“What are you looking at?” Ran questioned, peering over the short general who had seemed to stop in place.

“They really are beautiful,” the young man answered.

“The daffodils?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize most gardeners consider them weeds?”

Jackie clenched his jaw and hit his friend on the arm a bit too roughly to seem playful “oh please, and you’re not a gardener now are you?” A forced, breathy chuckle came out of his mouth.

They were the small things.

That was yet another thing Ran had to figure out. But he’d get it eventually. He always does.

The smaller of the two quietly stormed away from his friend, kicking up granite and limestone off the ground as his feet trudged against the gravel, a small cloud of grey building up behind his heels.

The blond boy’s silhouette was outlined by a fractured golden rim as the sunlight filtered in through the gaps in between the rose-bush’s leaves, his shoulders seeming to quiver as they were strained down by his own mandatory will.

Ran paused, gazing at the lovely picture in front of him, the gorgeous oranges and reds lighting up the garden's foliage creating a pinkish purple reflection off the flora.

Something weighed down in the back of his chest. He wanted to see Jackie’s smile be genuine, at least for the rest of the night.

“They do look nice,” the tall one said, catching up to the small sunflower that had moved so quickly past him.

Jackie’s eyes softened and Ran felt something flutter behind his ears.

“You really think so?” He asked, looking upwards towards his friend.

“Definitely,” Ran answered.

The boy bit the inside of his lip, the corners of his mouth craning upwards into a grin “what do you like about them?”

Ran thought for a moment “,I enjoy how they grow in groups. No matter where they are, unless the rest were picked off obviously, you’ll never see one alone.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Jackie perched up on his tiptoes and poked his nose close to the enderman’s face.

“Um,” the creature said, flinching back slightly “I don’t, really, know any. Do you want to tell me some?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, continue then.”

Jackie lingered by his friend's emerald eyes for a moment longer, entranced by the way they seemed to be framed in sparkling jewels.

He had beautiful eyes, that was one of the things Jackie had learned.

The short boy pointed over to a field of purple flowers and began rambling about hybrids history and how they bloom. How they've evolved, how they’re perceived and what they mean. Another enderman creature came up briefly, something about bouquets and wedding venues although the conversation quickly changed pace towards the vines of ivy and grapevine that grew over the side of the building, the grape curling around frames with the ivy tracing the cracks between bricks.

They talked about flowers for the rest of the night, one going on tangents of pollination with the other humbly listening, wandering around the garden as ramblings of petals and pigment created a hum from the greenery.

It was a nice night, afterall Ran’s cheeks hurt from smiling for so long, and what night like that couldn't have been nice?

Just for tonight.

At least just for tonight.

---

It was important to keep logs of the day. Information discovered, things that should have gone unseen and private being filtered out through trails of citizens and roads leading to another realm.

The page with flowers sketched into the corners, however, was one that would be ripped out and hidden, stuffed into the back of a drawer neatly folded and left to read over later.

Of course there were a few pages torn at the seams. Ones that Ran knew neither he nor Jackie would have wanted to be discovered.

They were important, though. The self-doubt, a weak link that could be potentially valuable during war-time, not that Ran was 100% sure that the diplomat he had been newly assigned even knew they were fighting.

It felt like a quiver lined with something bitter, the archer firing arrow heads made of needle and flint with a bow string lit on fire.

The trickles of ink from quill to paper detailing strategies and lackluster qualities of the opposing side.

This is when he’d remind himself of Rule 2.

The most important point to be made.

I wrote this like 3 months ago so the pacing is a bit weird. but jackie is kinda out of character for a reason lol sleep deprivation and burnout will do that to you :]

its sweet though its so sweet im going all TwT rn.... awwwwwwweee

okay now i must return to my work prison (god its due soon and im doing just Horribly help hudvsjkmx)

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #3: Prism of White

Words: ca. 5,200 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: none

Light filtered through the window casting the room in a golden glow. Papers lay crumpled and torn on the coffee table and the floor beneath. Anna tossed her sketchbook on the table and threw her pencil next to it. Weeks passed and she still didn’t have another good idea for her next art piece. Her hands grasped a pillow on the couch beside her. Her freckled face buried in the soft cushion, a muffled groan joining the white-noise of the television in the background.

Art had been a passion of hers ever since her stubby toddler fingers first grasped that pack of cheap crayons. Her parents laid scrap paper out in front of her at the kitchen table. The adults left the room shortly after thinking little Anna would be occupied for a little more than five minutes. Overjoyed with all the colors in the box, now strewn over the table some rolling to the floor, little Anna picked up the green and began to scribble in swirls and loops like any child does. Her mother came back ten minutes later to check on her and grab a cup of afternoon coffee. A gasp tore from her throat and her blue eyes widened at the site. The walls had been little Anna’s first canvas.

She laughed at the memory, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed against her face. The scolding she received after that event lost to the feeling of joy at the colors swirling around her. Back then art had been carefree and fun. Now the blank pages in her sketchbook mocked her with that textured whiteness.

Twenty-one years of sketching, painting, throwing color on canvas’ of varying degrees, making a life out of it. A dream come true. One that would have been impossible if not from the support of her friends and family. One person in particular. Elsa.

Little Elsa could light up Anna’s world by merely stepping into the room. She used to be so very timid and quiet, often opting to hide in the corner with a book than engage with the other kids her age. Anna managed to pull her into their little games anyway.

As the two grew older their interests diverged slightly. They both found joy in the arts, joining in theater at school for fun, playing and listening to music (although their tastes differed vastly at times), and studying the history behind all forms of art. A bond formed and kept them close even when one started painting and sketching while the other used words to color with.

A writer’s search history and an artist’s eye left plenty for friends to laugh and grow concerned about.

Anna lifted her head from the pillow feeling someone fiddle with her twin braids. She smiled already knowing who it was behind her.

“What are you so distressed about?” Elsa hummed out sweetly. Her eyes swept over the paper littered around and the discarded sketchbook. “Can’t think of a good idea?”

Anna groaned again and buried her head back in the pillow. Her reply came muffled and she knew Elsa wouldn’t be able to understand a word of it. This problem she had wasn’t that much of a big deal. Anna knew that. Every artist had periods where they couldn’t draw. An artblock as she so affectionately called it. But this felt different. She had ideas. The vision of what she wanted to draw sat crystal clear in her mind’s eye, but when she picked up the pencil each stroke on the page felt weighted. She knew what she wanted to put on the paper. She hated each stroke she made and the finished result. Weeks of this and the stress of not creating made her head spin. The ride she had been on had stopped with her sitting upside down unable to do anything.

The couch dipped beside her as Elsa sat down. Pale hands pulled the pillow Anna was secretly hoping would suffocate her until freckled cheeks and a pouty lip were visible. Anna whined and reached out for the cushion. Elsa held it out of reach ignoring the dark spot where Anna drooled on it.

“Ah-Ah,” Elsa wagged her finger. Anna’s shoulder slumped forward in despair. “You can get the pillow back and resume your little, um , whatever you were doing after you tell me what’s wrong.”

Sea-green eyes lowered to the open sketchbook, a frown settled on her lips. “I - I hate everything I make and it’s driving me crazy.”

Elsa set the pillow aside and shuffled closer to Anna. She gave her knee a reassuring squeeze and gently asked, “Is it one of your artblocks?”

Anna shook her head, braids swaying. “No, this is different. I know what I want to draw, I have the motivation to draw, but I can’t seem to like what I make. I hate the finished result, even if it looks how I wanted.” Her eyes glistened with frustrated tears, “It’s been like this for weeks and I’m going insane trying to fix it.”

Elsa cupped her cheek, running her thumb soothingly over the skin. Anna nuzzled into her palm, eyes fluttering shut at the coolness of her skin. “Anna,” she opened her eyes to see an amused smirk dancing on pink lips, a glint of humor dancing in blue eyes, “is this your first burnout?”

Her whole body stilled at the question. Burnout had been something she knew her artist friends over the internet talked about. How it could hit someone suddenly or slowly creep on through the years. The former could usually be seen coming and dealt with by short breaks, but the latter often crippled careers as it snuck in through the cracks undetected and infected everything slowly like a poison. Anna gasped lightly at the realization.

The ride she had been on for the majority of her adult life (granted it had only been 3 years since she graduated high school) was fast paced and constantly moving. She did not stop or get off, only urging it to move faster and faster. The need to create and improve outweighed any thought or concern the stress her body and mind were put under. She ignored all the signs, the warnings people told her to look for and now the stress had crushed her.

“What am I gonna do?” Her voice came out broken and unsure. Burnout was a completely foreign field for her. There was no map for her, no field guide to help her navigate through this problem. People mention taking breaks and stepping away from art for awhile to recharge, but that seemed impossible. How could Anna stop creating, when all she wanted to do was create?

“Is this new project for a client?” Elsa noticed the distress on Anna’s face and dropped her hand down from her cheek to grasp shaking ones.

“No, it’s one I plan to sell, or have prints made for my shop.”

Elsa nodded, “Okay. And do you have any client work lined up for the month?”

Anna answered in the negative. She had started a new system for her works where certain months she decided not to take on any client work. It was an attempt not to be too overwhelmed working on custom pieces that allowed her the freedom to work on her own as well. The system worked fairly well until this burnout happened. At least it happened now instead of when she had to work on pieces for clients.

“Okay, okay we can definitely work with this,” she breathed out a plan already forming in her mind. She knew Anna wouldn’t take a break willingly, that wasn’t her style. She would draw and paint until her hands fell off and even then she’d learn to use her feet instead. Nothing would stop her, not even the end of the world. The complete opposite of Elsa who procrastinated her own projects till motivation was high or the deadline approached. She often wondered how they never drove each other crazy doing things so differently. Instead of finding a reason she just blamed it on love. It was better not to question it anyway.

“Anna,” she turned and faced the younger woman determinedly, prepared for protestation, “do you trust me?”

Anna cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Of course I do, silly. It’s part of why I married you.”

Elsa smiled and held her tongue to keep from commenting. That experience would be one she would never forget. She at her wife, eyes bright and said,

“Then you’ll understand what I’m about to do.”

Anna’s gut twisted in apprehension. She trusted Elsa with her life, but the twinkle in pale blue eyes told her not all of this would be a pleasant experience.

—-

“Anna, what color is the sky?”

From her position in the passenger seat of the car Anna scowled, her eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep. Elsa refused to let her in on the plan the day before, only telling her to pack a days worth of clothes and food and then promptly took all her art supplies and locked them inside a large chest. She never quite figured out why they had a large empty chest lying around and when she asked Elsa the older girl shrugged saying something about secrets.

“What.” Anna grumbled confused at the question and irritated at being woken up at three in the morning and rushed out of the house.

Elsa glanced at her from the driver’s seat. “What color is the sky?” She turned her attention back to the road, very much awake and relaxed. The half empty cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder helped.

“What kind of question is that? The sky is blue!” Anna twisted over and leaned her head on the window, arms folded across her chest. Elsa still had yet to tell her where they were going and only mentioned a three hour car ride. That left plenty of time for her to catch up on sleep if her wife would let her.

“No, not - “ Elsa laughed at herself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I meant what color is the sky right now?”

Anna cracked one eye open and grimaced at the passing street light that blinded her. “Black,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elsa hummed a smile on her face. She let Anna sleep the rest of the way, picking up and sipping her coffee. The low songs of the radio filling the silence in a quiet peace. She didn’t care for the station, but it was one of Anna’s favorites. The little things would make the difference on this trip.

Barely any time had passed, that’s what it felt like to Anna anyway, before a hand on her shoulder gently shook her awake. “What is it now,” she sighed tiredly and shuffled further into the car door. When she agreed to whatever Elsa had planned, losing sleep hadn’t even crossed her mind. She knew she was being unfair to her wife. Elsa only wanted to help. The stress of her burnout had taken its toll without consent and Anna wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and sulk. Sleep was the closest she could get right now, but the woman driving had other plans.

“What color is the sky now,” she asked eagerly. Her pale hand fell away and gripped the steering wheel again.

Anna squinted at the light outside. The night had faded to be greeted by the light of the sun just peeking over the horizon. Reds and oranges bled into pale blue as the orb of yellow and white ascended slowly. Any other day the she might have appreciated seeing the sunrise, she might have stared at the way the light shone and glistened along Elsa’s skin, bathing her in rays of gold. But it only annoyed her at having the same question asked in place of sleep. Still she answered,

“Red.”

Her eyes closed again with the plan to catch more sleep. Elsa didn’t bother her after that. She sipped her fresh cup of coffee, having stopped for gas before the sunrise. Anna grumbled under her breath adjusting to get comfortable in her seat again. Pink lips turned up at the corner in amusement. Anna may be grumpy beyond belief this morning and she knew it was her doing. The outcome of this trip will be worth it. Elsa knew it, could feel it in her bones. She could only hope Anna didn’t throw her in the lake as payback when they got there.

Elsa smirked watching, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and slipping them on. The day was only beginning. The coffee singed her tongue as she took another sip.

If Anna did throw her in the lake, she made sure to have plenty of jokes ready.

Gravel crunched under the tires as the car pulled off the main road. The road itself wasn’t too bad in terms of a drive. Anna woke up quietly glancing around at the trees and greenery around them. She said nothing to tell Elsa she was awake and continued to stare out the window. The sight felt familiar, she knew this place but couldn’t quite care enough to place it. Sleep still clouded mind and even if it was Wednesday she liked to sleep in late and stay up late instead. This whole early to bed and early to rise business wasn’t for her.

A light chuckle from her left told Anna all she needed to know. “There’s hot chocolate for you since you’re not the biggest fan of coffee.” Elsa never took her eyes off the road and merely motioned to the cup holder between them.

“Thanks.” Anna took the cup nearly dropping it. No protective sleeve saved her from burning fingers, not even the paper cup itself. “Geez, why’s it so hot!” She glared at her sister.

“Didn’t know how long you were going to stay asleep so I asked them to make it extra hot.”

“Extra hot,” Anna guffawed, “This cup feels like it came straight out of Orodruin itself! You could have got me a protective sleeve for it or something!”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to sleep!” Anna folded her arms at Elsa’s response, “Besides, you always get annoyed at the sleeves opting to burn your fingers anyway.”

“Yes, but the cups are never that hot!”

Elsa only smiled.

The car slowed and stopped with a slight jolt. Anna hadn’t touched her drink again still waiting for it to cool down from Mount Doom level temperatures. She figured out why this place had seemed so familiar. Her parents used to take her camping out here toward the end of summer, always running around the lake and sometimes taking a ferry over to the small island.

“I grabbed us a backcountry permit if you wanted to stay away from the normal campsites.” Elsa held up the piece of paper before tucking it into her jacket pocket. Anna hummed her agreement and stretched in her seat.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom then we can hike to wherever.” She ducked out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. A warm feeling of nostalgia washed over her at the familiar sight. She hadn’t come back to this park in years. Anna walked across the parking lot toward the public restroom. Coming back to the lake hadn’t even crossed her mind. It’s almost sad really. To forget about a place she once loved so deeply, have it take up a corner of her mind as a memory she kept but never thought about.

She turned the faucet off and shook stray water drops from her hands, wiping the remaining wetness on her jeans. Anna never trusted the automatic air dryers.

When she arrived back to the car, Anna bit back a bark of laughter. Elsa had strapped each and every pack and bag to herself and looked overloaded, but all too eager like a puppy. She smiled broadly at Anna and handed her the much cooler cup, “Come on, let’s go! I know of the perfect spot!”

Anna took the cup, her shoulders shaking as she held in her laughter.

“Wait, Elsa. Let me carry some things.” Elsa paused mid-step and tilted her head. All the coffee had gone to her brain in the most adorable way. “How did you even manage to hold all the bags, even mine?” Anna pointedly looked at the deep green duffle bag with a bright orange patch on the side.

“I played a lot of tetris as a kid.” She shrugged but gave Anna two of the bags anyway.

Anna adjusted the strap of a bag on her shoulder. “Alright, now show me this perfect spot.”

The blonde grinned and grabbed Anna’s hand practically dragging her along toward the trail and into the bush. Anna could only keep up and pray her hot chocolate didn’t spill.

—-

Anna had to admit the spot Elsa had picked was perfect. A little spot hidden behind dense shrubbery. Well off the path and if someone did make it this far the thorn bushes were certainly a discouragement. She knew she’d be picking the sharp thorns out of her clothes for a while and if it weren’t for the view and the feeling of peace she’d make Elsa do it without a second thought. Anna’s had her second thought and is still intent on making Elsa do the work.

“Nice view, right?” Elsa wiped the dirt off her hands stepping over to Anna. She had finished setting up the tent and decided to see what was keeping her wife. The view itself looked over the entirety of the lake and the mountains surrounding it. The trees swayed in the breeze.

“It’s beautiful.” Anna tucked a piece of hair back into place. Elsa stepped up beside her. They stared at the scene in silence. A sense of peace forming around them. Anna closed her eyes listening to the birds singing in the trees and the wind rustling the branches. The smell of the air and the sun on her skin eased the tension in her shoulders she didn’t realize had been there. Anna felt free like she could step off the overlook and just fly. Elsa smiled at the content look on her face.

“Anna,” the red-head hummed and turned to face her, “what color is the sky?”

The question had her sighing exasperatedly. How many times would she ask that damned question. It didn’t make sense. She had answered it twice already. Inhaling deeply, Anna decided not to let this ruin the moment. She looked up at the sky, fluffy clouds dotting the expansive space.

“Blue. It’s blue.”

Elsa made no comment. Anna would have yelled at her but the pure love in pale blue eyes killed the thought before it formed. She found herself smiling back and shaking her head lightly. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Elsa chuckled, “I know. Now come on, let’s go exploring a bit.”

Anna followed eagerly. Exploring she could do.

—-

Night life in the forest seemed impossibly loud compared to the day. Anna didn’t mind much. She found the noise comforting in a way. All the little life coming out with the safety of darkness. Comfortable now that the sun has gone and they can hide in the shadows of the night. She could understand it. The night offered a sort of peace the day could not. She loved the sun, loved the hustle and bustle of day life, but the night hit differently. She closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips. The day’s activities replayed in her mind’s eye.

After running around, revisiting old trails and memories and making some new ones, the two women sat around a little fire. Anna made Elsa pick out all the thorns and burrs while she roasted marshmallows. While Elsa didn’t agree with s’mores before dinner she let it slide this once.

They relaxed after that, Anna rigged a stick with fishing gear and went fishing. She didn’t catch anything. She came back soaking wet and Elsa only raised a brow. She changed into some dry clothes and sat by the fire to get warm. Elsa turned from her book then, a cheeky grin on her face and said,

“You know I love it when you -” Anna smacked her before she should finish.

Now they lay peacefully staring up at the stars.

“Anna,” Elsa started in the quiet. Anna hummed in acknowledgment before her mind jump started back to nearly every quiet moment previously,

“You better not ask me what color the sky is or I swear to god you will find yourself at the bottom of the lake!”

The crickets chirped.

“What hue doth the heavens above appears to thine viewing orbs?”

Anna laughed. She laughed loud and hard. She knew Elsa would find a way to rephrase the question the second she threatened her, but she never expected her to phrase it like that. She rolled onto her side and clutched her stomach from the force of her laughter. “I-I can’t -” she wheezed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, “I can’t breath.”

“You should have let me ask the question normal then.” The cheekiness in her voice had Anna swatting blindly behind her. Her hand connected with nothing but air.

“Fine, this is the last time I’m answering that stupid question,” Anna finally said after she stopped laughing and caught her breath. She rolled back to look at the sky and exhaled deeply a smile on her face, “Black, the sky is black.”

“Wrong.”

Anna propped herself up on her elbow. Wrong. The first response back to her answers and it was to tell her, Anna, that she answered wrong.

“What, how can I be wrong? Are you seeing the same sky I’m seeing?” Anna grit her teeth ready to fully argue her point.

“No, no calm down, feisty pants. Right now you could argue it’s black, or a very deep blue.”

“Then how am I wrong?!”

Elsa kept her gaze on the sky. “I asked you three four times today what color the sky was. Only two of the answers were the same. Can you explain that?” “The sky changes colors, you numpty.”

“So what color is the sky then if it changes?”

Anna didn’t have an answer to that. Elsa turned to face her, the moonlight making her blue eyes glow in the night.

“What color do you say the sky is then,” Anna asked, moving closer to Elsa. The night breeze had a bit of a chill, but she didn’t feel like getting a jacket. Her arm brushed against her wife’s.

“If you asked me what color the sky is, anytime of day or night, I’d tell you it’s white. I know it’s crazy, but think about it. In general people say the sky is blue, but it’s not always blue. You said it yourself, the sky changes colors, so why is it blue then?” She raised a hand and traced along various constellations as she spoke. “Is it because that’s the color we see it as mostly. Blue during the day? The history behind it is actually fascinating, but I won’t go into that. But the sky can be any color depending on when you look. Black, dark blue, orange and red, yellow and pink, purple and light blue, even green. The sky isn’t just one color or one shade. It’s all of them all the time, we just only see what the light shows us. That’s why I say it’s white. White reflects all colors, the sky cycles through the colors based on a bunch of scientific stuff that I’m a bit too tired to get into. I didn’t really prepare to get into that bit anyway.” she laughed at herself.

Anna lay in silence. She never really thought about it like that.

“But why white, why not black?”

Elsa sucked in a small breath before answering, “Black is the absence of colors. If the sky was black that’s all we’d see. A black hole sucking the colors away and leaving nothing behind but darkness. That’s why it’s white and not black.”

“Geez, that took a depressing turn.”

Elsa hummed and entwined her fingers with Anna’s. “Think of it as a prism. The sun shines through and casts the colors fresh and new through the day.”

“A blank canvas.” Anna found herself mumbling aloud. A blank canvas to be painted each day in the same ways that vastly differed if you looked hard enough. The subtle hues shifting day to day, the contrast of reds and oranges against purples and blues. All of it spinning endlessly in a cycle, a prism of color splattered across a canvas of white that never is seen as white.

The two remained watching the stars for a bit longer. The little dots of color splattered across the dark sky. Almost a reverse of my freckles. Anna mused to herself. The crisp air raised goosebumps on her arms.

Anna went to sleep that night, snuggled in her wife’s arms, feeling so refreshed and full of love she thought it might overflow. And it did. Her emotions flowed over in little drops that ran down her cheeks and she whispered over and over how much she loved Elsa. In turn with each ‘I love you’ a kiss was placed on her head, her cheek, her lips, and her body squeezed a bit tighter.

The white sky, painted with the color of night, left them to rest peacefully. The moon watching over them.

The trunk slammed shut and all the bags and trash were loaded in. Not nearly as neatly as before but as long as it wasn’t falling out Anna didn’t care. She awoke buzzing with renewed energy ready and eager to get back to work. Her burnout long forgotten. The three hour car ride didn’t seem so long even though Anna sat wide awake the entire trip. Elsa would probably need a day to recover from the amount of talking Anna did in that small time. Maybe a new book and quiet day in a coffee shop or a day spent curled up in her bed with nothing but mindless games to entertain herself with. Anna made a note to thank Elsa for forcing her out for a day, whatever she wanted.

Anna went to work the moment she stepped through the doorway. Pencil marks flew across the page in hurried fashion almost as if the vision would fade before she could get it down. Supplies were strewn out over the kitchen table and counter tops as Anna fell into what Elsa called ‘The detonation zone’. It was a mess, but also the time and place where Anna seemed to get the most work done.

Guess I’m not cooking. Elsa thought and picked up the phone. She was kinda in the mood for pizza anyway.

Pale blue eyes watched from where she leaned against the wall as the blur of auburn worked in a frenzy. Her movements were both hurried and agonizingly slow to preserve the details in a way only Anna managed to do. A mesmerizing sight she could watch for hours if not for the delivery man ringing her doorbell.

She made sure Anna knew of the food sitting in the living room.

“Okay, thank you!” Came the reply from the kitchen. Elsa chuckled and shook her head taking her own slice or two of pizza. She disappeared into their shared room for the rest of the evening. The one day trip seemed to have worked in Anna’s favor. Elsa made the mental note to schedule more day trips once in a while.

Time ticked by and Anna didn’t even notice. The pizza had gone cold and the sunlight faded away. The brush in her hand was set in the water cup for the last time.

“There.” Anna sat back finished. She smiled at the creation in front of her leaving it to dry as her stomach made known it’s need for food. The clock read late into the night, or early into the morning, depending on how you look at it. Maybe setting an alarm for food and breaks would be a good idea in the future. She decided it’d be worth a shot if only to save her from a stiff back at the end of the day.

Her paint stained hands grabbed a cold slice of pizza and promptly inhaled it followed by three more. The kitchen sat in a disastrous mess and the urge to put off cleaning up until the morning hit hard. Anna considered cleaning up the worst part about doing art. Elsa would likely clean up for her in the morning since she always woke up first. Anna knew that and decided not to let that happen. As much as Elsa said she didn’t mind and that’s what she signed up for by marrying her, Anna wouldn’t have it. Not after what she’d done for her the past day, or really since they first-started dating.

Anna turned the faucet on, warm water cleaning her stained hands, and she began the cleanup.

It wasn’t until around four in the morning that she finally headed to bed. The bedroom door creaked softly. Elsa snored softly, curled on her side snuggling a pillow. The sight made Anna fall in love with her all over again. Anna would never get tired of seeing her wife in such a peaceful and vulnerable state. Gently, she climbed into bed beside her.

“I love you.” she whispered and kissed Elsa’s cheek. Elsa let go of the pillow at the contact and fully snuggled against her wife. Anna wrapped her arms around her and kissed her softly again.

“I love you so much.”

Elsa woke to gentle rays of sun dancing across her face. Untangling herself from Anna she stepped outside of the room. She paused halfway closing the door and looked on fondly at the sleeping mess of her wife.

The kitchen was spotless, save for the canvas resting on the table. Even the sink was clean, supplies neatly drying on the rack where they were supposed to be. A smile graced her lips.

The coffee pot sputtered to life as it began brewing. It was only nine o’clock and Anna likely wouldn’t be up for another few hours. Being your own bosses had their perks. The brown liquid steamed as she poured it into a plain ceramic mug. The rich scent very much welcome this morning.

Anna would always scold her for drinking too much coffee. The thought brought another smile to her face. She really loved Anna and all that came with her.

Coffee in hand Elsa approached the canvas on the kitchen table. She made sure to stay for enough back that if something drastic happened her coffee would not stain the creation. She rounded the table and the sight made her pause. The colors and detail splattered across it showed just how much that camping trip had meant to her.

“Oh Anna,” her eyes lined with overflowing emotions as she took in the painting. “You’re still full of surprises.”

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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