Concept: post s15 Cas' vessel starts to show more signs of age because of his weakened grace. His true form also becomes more visible, glimpses showing on rainy days and long Sunday afternoons and duing Thursday sunsets. He's finally at home in his body and being, an angel who isn't ashamed of who he is because he knows how deeply he is loved.

for @angelcasendgame - happy birthday!!

One in Billions

I mentioned in the description of Sparkle by the Sea that I'd been lacking in artistic motivation since NaPoWriMo ended. Fortunately, I think that drive to create has finally come back...unfortunately about the time it came back, the internet exploded once again and reminded me, even more, of why I hate social media, and thus I withdrew again for the sake of my mental health, in case you were wondering what happened to me. I sincerely hope this time I can come back and stay back for a while, but we'll see I guess. In fact, this is not the first piece of art I've made since vanishing into thin air (in fact it's currently the last), and it's not my first re-introduction to acrylics since Fly By the Moon either. Granted, that doesn't mean I've been acrylic painting nonstop or anything, I just thought it was worth mentioning for the sake of clarity. But regardless, I wanted to have this one posted before the end of the month, and just like last time I'm just barely squeezing it in. (I believe the monthly challenge for June is Junicorn or something like that? That's part of why, though not the only reason.) To be quite honest, there's not a whole lot to describe about the process of making this, as it was fairly simple a straightforward. (How unusual for me, no? ) I started by foolishly using my lightbox to transfer my unicorn sketch that was based on a wooden Christmas ornament (though I did change a few details, most notably the tail--I changed it to be more like the style from The Last Unicorn) to one of the 8"x10" canvases I've had lying around for some time. I say foolishly because I really should have known it would be completely gone by the time I finished blending my color scheme of choice--black, gray/silver, white, and purple--on top into a galaxy-ish fashion. (Feel free to guess what the significance of the color scheme is supposed to be ) Fortunately, I prepared for that ahead of time by transferring my sketch also onto a smaller piece of paper I could scribble with a Faber Castell gelato on the back of to transfer the design back on top of the paint and using some tape to align it with my original placement on a funny little tape-hinge I could fold behind the canvas while I wasn't using it. Which, as tedious of a process as it was to arrange the hinge, if I remember I'll try to use that method going forward, especially for paintings where I might need to re-apply the design more than one. (I struggled with this a bit on a painting I haven't posted yet.) The painting part went like this: Put paint on, blend it out, put more paint on, wonder why it's not blending out the way I want, add water and/or dab at it with a napkin to help blend, put paint on, blend it out, repeat. And then at one point, I had to stop and carefully paint over a couple of spots where I'd been so heavy-handed with my blending that I'd actually stripped a few small holes into the paint and there was just naked canvas poking through. Then I had to blend on top of those spots once they dried because I couldn't color match exactly.   Many hours of blending paint out and waiting for it to dry later, I was finally happy with what I accomplished and thus it was time to move on to the unicorn. As I alluded to, I used the faux-transfer paper method that I've used before with a gelato, and then I used a white acrylic marker (a tool I will talk about in greater detail some other time) to make the outline and constellation-thingy inside the lines bolder. Then I filled it in with some cheaper white acrylic paint that's more transparent...Mostly because I have plenty of said white paint and I really didn't feel like having to cover the whole thing with pastel to give it the foggy/misty appearance I was looking for. I waited for that to dry, then went back over the lines with my white gel pen to make them pop a bit more. Then I went to splatter-town with some white gouache. (So far I have the best luck using gouache for such things. And in this case, it has the added benefit that I could wipe it off with water if I got too much since the acrylic underneath is waterproof, which I took full advantage of.) My next step was to add some pointed stars via the white gel pen, as per usual. Originally, that was going to be the end, but I was a little sad at how much of the purple in the background I'd ended up obscuring in some way. So, after learning that manually dotting in some more purple with a gel pen was a laughable idea, I made a mask for the unicorn to keep her as white/pure/whatever as possible, and then splattered away with some purple gouache, too. The mask wasn't quite a perfect match, so I did have to go back in with gel pen to the lines one more time. But that's alright because I remembered I wanted to try using PanPasteel for a bit of a glow effect. Which sort of worked, but it's hard to tell on the final version because I wanted it to blend out as smoothly as possible, which means I ended up blending/wiping a lot of it clean off.   Still, I'm very happy with how the final product came out. Now I just need to find a place to display it, because that was something I had in mind when I started making it. It's a bit different for me, this painting format, but it worked out and there's a good chance I'll be making another one in a similar style as a gift for a friend sometime in the future, which I'm looking forward to. It also just feels good to have finished this, as (though you guys haven't seen) it feels like I've been working on a lot of projects either not for me, or not just because I genuinely want to make them lately. This is just a little something for me and me alone at its core. As I said at the top of the description and as I'll continue to say until something changes, I'm hoping I'll be getting back to posting a little more consistently and being more consistently present now, but I can't make any promises. At the very least, I can promise you I do have some fun art waiting in the wings for when that does happen. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram 

Drawing the line

For a fic I had no plot idea for, this turned out quite long :D It’s an artist au with some inspiration from @over-the-pink-moon lovely moodboards *-* Also thanks to @miris-xo for helping me to find anything related to a plot. I hope you enjoy this, especially since I might not have a lot of internet to post new things over the next two months at the end of the world ^^

Word count: 2.9k

///

She always leaves a trace when she walks out of his place. A pencil or a brush on the kitchen table, a quick sketch or color study left to dry on his desk. Once he finds a cup with paint water forgotten by the sink. Her thoughts remind Matteo of the TV screens in a tech store – five different movies playing and without the sound, nothing makes sense. As soon as she begins to pack up, new ideas flicker through her mind, so she simply forgets what remains out of her immediate sight.

But he doesn’t mind cleaning up after her.

Instead, he puts on the playlist inspired by her and wanders through every room, searching for her clues. If he’s lucky she forgot something important and asks him to meet up between classes. Some days (mostly Tuesdays) she even asks him if he wants to tag along to the cafeteria. He never says no.

Today, she forgot her notebook on the couch. Luna has been doodling in it while he discussed the grocery list with Gastón, and the moment he walked up to the couch again, she tossed it away like it was on fire. Before he could ask, she pretended to be deeply lost in filling the canvas with colors.

In moments like these he’d trade his first guitar for a glance into her mind.

The notebook feels heavy in his hands as he picks it up. It’s not the small sketchbook she uses for first drafts and carries around everywhere. And, from experience, forgets everywhere too. He’s only seen the fancy sketchbook two times before, and both times she threatened him to not even blink at it or she’ll ruin his mom’s gift the night before her birthday.

Nothing tempts him more than to sneak a glimpse at whatever Luna is trying to hide from him.

///

To Luna: How much is your nice sketchbook worth to you?

///

The moment she holds it in her hands again, she sighs so loud that the people around them turn around and stare. “And you didn’t look inside? Not even once?”

“Is that how little faith you have in me? After all the times I brought you your other sketchbook, or your brushes, or those funny little sponges and…”

“Okay, okay,” Luna mutters, one hand playing with her hair, “I get it. I shouldn’t come over to work on that painting for your mom anymore, given how much stuff I forget every time.”

She wants to walk right past him, into the cafeteria, but Matteo follows her with ease. A smirk rests on his mouth. “That’s not what we agreed on, and you know that.”

With an eyeroll, she takes a step back to let three guys leave the aisle with their heavy trays. When she’s by Matteo’s side again, a corner of her mouth twitches slightly upward. “Just for the record, none of the people I made commissions for so far asked to watch me while I’m working. Only you did.”

“Because I’m curious to see how the magic happens. And didn’t you say you usually don’t do commissions? That this was an exception for being the hero who gave you your sketchbook back?” Five times, to be exact. How anyone could forget the same thing, in the same classroom, five weeks in a row, remains a miracle to Matteo. But no matter the reasons why, he’s happy to have found her along with the book.

They reach the dessert bar. Luna begins to heap chocolate pudding into a bowl, one arm awkwardly clenching her sketchbook. Matteo watches her for a moment, then snickers. “Do you want me to hold this for…”

“No!” She doesn’t even let him get to the end of the question. “I’m good, you don’t have to.” Realizing she had just shouted at him, she flinches. “Thanks, but no. Just pick a dessert, okay? I’ll pay.”

He chooses a strawberry cheesecake.

///

“So, did you cook this or did your mom make that for you?” he asks after they sit down at the only free table for two, nodding towards her lunchbox.

“My mom. If I tried this, everything would look like a giant mess of green pasta.”

Matteo shakes his head in amusement and chews on his homemade sandwich. “Damn, the poor spinach.”

“How’s your sandwich?” She drowns the latest bite with a sip from her water bottle, and her eyes linger on his cheesecake long enough for him to consider teasing her about it.

Instead, he puts on a smirk. “Good, of course. I just prepared it before my first class.”

They eat in silence. It’s a nice contrast, Matteo thinks, because so far, they have always been interrupted by one of her friends. And they were nice, they chatted and laughed with him, but he’d rather sit in silence with Luna alone than to engage in meaningless small talk with her friends.

“So, you haven’t answered my question yet.”

The first spoon with chocolate pudding just went into her mouth, and she looks at him out of wide, beautiful eyes. “Huh?”

“I asked you if you lied to me when you said you didn’t do commissions.”

“Oh.” Another spoon of pudding. She’s still staring at him, half lost in thought again. He wonders if she’d let him get away with stealing a taste of her dessert. (Or of her lips.) “Well, I didn’t lie. I used to make a few back in high school. But I’ve only drawn for fun since I started uni.”

“Then I’m glad you made that exception for me.”

“You mean for your mom?”

“Yeah.”

///

She’s biting her lip again. She always does when she’s thinking about which part to paint next, and in those moments, Matteo has to remind himself that he should appear interested in what she’s doing, and not in her. Perhaps she believes he actually wants to learn about the right paper, or proper colors, but mostly he wants to learn about her. About the dimples in her cheek when she laughs, and the sensation of her fingertips on his skin. One time she forgot her hair tie, so some strands of her opened curls kept falling into her face, like a frame to a masterpiece, and in that moment, he wished he knew how to pin her beauty down on paper.

“Do you draw people too?”

“Is that your way of asking if I would draw you?” She doesn’t even look up from her canvas, just frowns at it as she dips her brush into her mixed shade of light blue again.

Matteo huffs, robbing an inch closer to her with his chair while he scans her face for a reaction. “Is that your way of telling me you thought about drawing me? Because I was just curious, to be honest.”  And if, in fact, she did want to stare at him for hours to get the most delicate lines of his smile right, he’d be the last person to object.

No reply. The movements of her brush are the only sound in the living room. By now Matteo finds a rhythm in those movements, a melody he misses when she’s gone, sometimes.

Luna sighs. The brush pauses in its dance over the canvas. “Your curls would be a nightmare to sketch.”

“Wow, thanks. What have I done for you to be in such a good mood today?” (So far, she barely smiled at him, and he longs for a fraction of her focus.)

For the first time this afternoon, she turns away from her painting and gives him her full attention. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I like your hair.”

“You do?”

Her eyes pin down the paper on the table. “Yeah. I mean, the curls suit you, and they look super soft somehow. But I couldn’t do them justice on paper.”

Luckily, she already focuses on her painting again before he can’t contain the smile on his lips.

///

He thinks of her constantly. Not as much when he has a task to focus on, or when he’s with his friends or classmates. His imagination waits for him to be alone, when he stands in the middle of the supermarket aisle and can’t decide on what kind of pasta to buy, when his thoughts stray away from the lecture he’s supposed to follow. As soon as he’s alone with his mind, she’s everywhere.

Right now, Matteo walks home from the bus stop down the street and plays through a conversation where she admits she likes him just as much. Then, he makes up a scene where he catches her drawing him. As he opens the door to the apartment building and fumbles with the key for his mailbox, the Luna from his imagination is blushing wildly while he tells her how wonderful exactly he thinks she is.

There’s a yellow envelope in his mailbox. Bright yellow, the color of sunflowers in August, and no post stamp. It surprises him enough to shush every thought of Luna, at least for a moment. As he takes the stairs, he reads his name written in neat, cursive letters again and again, as if they’d reveal their secret like that. Finally, he glances at the back of the envelope, to discover Luna’s signature.

His feet freeze on the spot.

She sent him something, and it’s definitely not his mom’s birthday gift. They had lunch together yesterday, and she didn’t mention anything that could explain why she left an envelope in his mailbox. He has no idea what it hides, and now his heart is beating against his chest as he takes two steps at a time.

///

It’s a sketch. Of him.

There’s no note attached, not even a date. Just his face on an otherwise blank sheet. The smile she drew radiates the same feeling he gets in his stomach every time she laughs, and she added a sparkle to his eyes he never found in them himself. He wonders how she managed to make his curls look like they’re about to bounce out of the paper, and how long she studied him without him noticing. The mere idea heats his chest up.

If this is how Luna sees him, he might be the luckiest guy in this world.

///

Matteo thanks her for this drawing five times, and one more time as she walks through his door two days later. A smile graces her lips, and her hug surrounds him with her scent that never quite seems like perfume.

“How are you?” she asks, spreading brushes on the living room table.

“Fine. And you?” Do you randomly draw your friends all the time? Or is there the tiniest chance I’m more than just a weird guy who pays you for drawing a picture in front of him?

Those questions don’t leave his mouth. Instead, Matteo sits down next to her and listens to her explanations on drawing open water. Meanwhile, he imagines taking her to his parents’ beach house in Italy.

“So, I think I could be finished with this next week. When was your mom’s birthday again?”

In the last moment, he holds back the sigh that tries to slip over his lips. “In two weeks.” In two weeks, this will be over. Luna will draw at her desk at her home, and exams will be inching too close to waste a full hour with him in the cafeteria. The semester is coming to an end, merciless in its rush of time, and he still has no idea how he’s going to see her again.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” Luna replies. “And yours?”

Matteo twirls his spoon in the coffee cup. (She almost dipped her brush into it three times today.) “Blue. Mixed with yellow, it’d be green, right?”

She rewards him with a smile along with her nod. “Yeah.” While she goes on about green and turquoise and color names he never heard of before, his gaze gets lost on her, dragging his thoughts along to the moon. The delicate skin around her eyes wrinkles because she’s smiling so much. Between teal and seaweed green, he stumbles upon the realization of how bright and clear her iris is. Like a gem stone carved out of the earth, polished just so the light could bring his miniature reflection in them alive.

“Like your eyes”, he mumbles, not fully aware his mouth turned his thoughts into words for her to hear.

Luna pauses. “What?”

Matteo clears his throat. “They’re super green.” Quieter, he adds, “And they’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Nothing more than a whisper, but her blushing cheeks say enough.

///

The week passes too quickly. He can’t afford to daydream during classes yet curses himself for letting time run out of his hands. Friday night brings him dreams of her, and he shrieks up an hour before his alarm clock. His mind is a Ferris wheel, high and low, Luna and his finals take turns riding it up to the moment she finally rings his door.

For the first time since they met, she’s wearing a dress. Mentally, he congratulates himself for changing into jeans and a decent shirt a few minutes ago, while he also has to fight the urge to stare at her for too long. He’s almost afraid of embracing her during their hug.

“That dress looks amazing,” he says. She hugs him tighter.

///

“I’m gonna miss you sitting here.”

Luna is almost finished, the last strokes of the brush, the last corrections and soon, she’ll scribble her signature into the corner. He doesn’t want her to leave, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to her after handing her the money he still owes her, and he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he screwed this up. It’s a desperate statement he lets slip out in resignation, and it’s of little comfort that his voice doesn’t tremble.

A hesitant smile sits on her lips as she glances at him. “I’m gonna miss you too.” Her honesty catches him off guard, allows him to hope, to search for right way to ask her out, but before he gathers a single word, she clears her throat. “It’s gonna be weird not having you watch me anymore. I mean, not that I’ll have time to draw during finals.”

Matteo silently nods. Inside, everything screams at him to take a chance before the paint dries and the ending can’t be changed anymore. “What’s the weirdest thing for you about drawing?”

A few seconds pass before she answers. Their knees bump into each other under the table, and he apologizes without meaning it one bit.

“Sometimes, when I look at people, I don’t really see them because I start to think about how I’d draw them. It’s like… picking them apart into single shades. Circles and squares and all that.”

His eyes dart towards the window, to buildings hiding the clear blue sky. He holds the air in his lungs, thinks twice, then jumps into the cold water. “Is that what you did too when you drew me?”

“Kinda.”

Silence. He catches her gaze. His breath hitches. “Drawing you was… different.”

“How so?” He knows they’re tip-toeing around each other, round and round, closer to a moment that’ll inevitably change something. Maybe even them. Hopefully.

“I’m not sure I can explain it.”

He doesn’t ask a second time.

///

The last brush is clean, the sketchbook back in her bag. He watches her as she puts on her shoes, heart racing in his chest. The clock next to the wardrobe ticks mercilessly, he can count along when Luna faces him, and they stare at each other out of words. Out of time.

“Thank you.”

She smiles. “Thank you too. I hope your mom will like it.”

“I’m sure she will.”

Her arms around his neck, one last time. Her scent in his nose, her curls falling into her face as they break apart. She hasn’t even left, and he already misses her.

“So, I guess I’m gonna go home now.” Her hand lingers on the doorknob.

“Good luck for studying,” he replies. The door opens. Ask her, say it, keep her here, if only for a second. With one step, she’s in the hallway. Turns around, grimaces. “Bye, then.”

His voice sounds hoarse. “Bye.”

The door closes. He let her go, he didn’t do any of the things he’s been dreaming, hoping for, and he’s the only one to blame. Matteo sighs, closes his eyes, curses.

The doorbell rings. With a frown on his forehead, he opens.

“Luna?”

“I forgot my bag.”

He steps away, and she hushes inside. “I’m sorry, sometimes I don’t know where my head is,” she says. Rambles. Her cheeks have turned into a soft pink. “Anyway, I’m gonna leave you alone now. Greet Gastón from me, okay?”

“Wait.” A plea, crossing his lips at the speed of light. Suddenly, Matteo feels afraid and brave at once, hesitant and determined. If this is his last chance, he won’t waste it. “Can I see you again?”

///

He still searches for her traces when she leaves. They’re not scattered around his apartment anymore, though, they’re all over his skin. A soft kiss, a delicate touch. Sometimes, a hint of paint when he got a little too impatient. Once, between his bedsheets, she whispers that he could be her new canvas. Matteo presses his lips on her temple and prays that she’ll never be done with him.