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cuddlepilefics · 4 years

Text

Markers are not for skin

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Chan

No one’s POV.:

Finishing his morning coffee, Chan put the cup in the sink and made his way to Hyunjin’s room. It was weekend and the dancer had announced the previous night, that he’d use his free time to slip and destress. As his caregiver, the leader would be staying back at the dorms to keep an eye on the little, no matter how often the younger assured he could take care of himself and that the oldest shouldn’t stay back because of him. The rest of the group had gone out because the weather forecast had promised a sunny day, warmer than they had had in a while. That left Chan and Hyunjin as the only two members at the dorm. The leader was actually surprised his dongsaeng hadn’t woken up already due to the ruckus caused by their friends getting ready. He decided to wake the dancer up, so he’d have enough time to be little and play. Sneaking into the younger’s room, he found the little snuggled up under his blanket with his teddy bear in his arms. Apparently, he had gone to bed this way to wake up little the next morning. “Good morning, cutie. Time to get up”, Chan hummed and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket down a bit and stroking the other’s slim back. Hyunjin stretched with a disapproving whine and shoved his head under his pillow. The older just picked up the pillow and laughed: “Baby, I thought you wanted to play with daddy today but I guess I was wrong and you’d rather stay here alone.” – “Nuh, daddy!”, the dancer called out suddenly wide awake. He sat up and crawled into Chan’s lap. The leader hugged him and smoothed down the messy long hair, smiling: “Well hello there, little one.”

They remained in an embrace for a few minutes and Hyunjin was starting to go back to sleep. “No no baby, no more sleeping. It’s time for breakfast. The others are all gone, so it’s just daddy and Jinnie time today”, the caregiver announced, nudging the dancer to keep him from falling asleep. The younger pouted up at him cutely, asking: “Uppie?” Sighing Chan picked him up and carried him to the kitchen. He set the little down on the counter and gave him a stern look, reminding him not to move and fall off. Then the leader filled a sippy with juice, letting the little drink a bit while he went to wash and cut some fruit. Arranging the bits of chopped fruit to a cute face, he took the plate to the table before returning to collect Hyunjin. The dancer had finished about half of his juice and quickly wrapped his arms around his caregiver’s neck when he appeared in front of him. Chan picked him up and sat down at the table with his dongsaeng on his lap. “CUTE!”, the little squealed as he admired the food. Chuckling, the oldest picked up an apple slice, which had served as an eyebrow, and tapped it against the other’s lips. “Say ah, baby!”, he grinned. Chewing, Hyunjin clapped his hands happily and beamed when the caregiver continued to feed him.

Chan had already had breakfast earlier, so when Hyunjin finished they were ready to start their day. Cleaning the plate, the leader asked: “What do you want to do today, Jinnie?” – “Hmm, can we colow?”, the dancer suggested, chewing on the hem of his shirt. The older nodded and took his hand as they walked back to the little’s room: “Of course, we can color but we should probably brush your hair first and maybe also get you a paci. Look your shirt is already damp from you chewing on it.” Hyunjin looked at his shirt guiltily before letting out a loud whine: “Off!” Rolling his eyes, Chan complied and replaced the dancer’s shirt with one of his largest, before reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a light purple pacifier. “Here, cutie. Now let daddy brush your hair and we’re all done”, the leader cooed as he slipped the comfort item between the little’s lips. Hopefully it would keep him quiet because Hyunjin tended to make a fuss when getting his hair brushed in little space. It worked out well and the leader finished off by pinning the front strands back with some colorful hairclips. He then sat down on the floor with his dongsaeng, laying out his coloring books and helping him decide what he wanted to color first. The little had soon picked out a picture of a bear sitting underneath the stars. “Daddy, colow with Jinnie!”, the dancer requested. “Well, what do you want daddy to color?” – “Make the staws, hmm…, yewwow!”, the little giggled, clapping his hands. Chan chuckled, a fond smile spreading on his face as he picked up the yellow crayon and started to fill in the stars.

They had been coloring together for a while when Hyunjin pushed his caregiver out of the room, claiming he wanted to color something for him but Chan wasn’t allowed to look until it was done. To pass the time, the leader set up his laptop in the living room and played around with some new beats. When it had almost been an hour and there was still no sign of the little, the oldest decided to go and check on him. When the door swung open, Hyunjin froze like a deer in the headlights. The marker in his hand cluttered to the ground. ‘Since when did he own markers?’ Chan wondered, not sure when the little had gotten his hands on something other than crayons and colored pencils. They were staring at each other for a few seconds, Hyunjin shocked that someone had walked in on him, Chan shocked because the dancer’s face and arms were covered in colorful doodles. “Look daddy, Jinnie colow fow chu!”, the little exclaimed happily, holding up a picture of a treehouse and birds. The leader facepalmed before putting on a happy face and thanking his dongsaeng for his beautiful artwork. After recapping the open marker, he scooped the little up in his arms frowning: “Jinnie, it seems like you didn’t only color the tree but yourself too.” – “Mhm, Jinnie pwetty!”, the younger giggled. ‘Oh dear, how are we going to get that off?’ the oldest wondered, taking the dancer to the bathroom. He shot a quick text to Felix before starting a bath for Hyunjin. The little giggled as he watched the water rise and was excited his daddy remembered to add a lot of bubbles. Chan then helped him into the tub, handing him a bright yellow rubber duck, and grabbed a washcloth. The leader had been scrubbing the other’s arms for a few minutes already but the lines weren’t really coming off, while the skin grew progressively red. “Nooo daddy, ouchieee!”, the dancer whined, pulling his hand away. He had tried to be a big boy and let his daddy clean him up but it was really starting to hurt. The oldest rana hand through his locks, getting frustrated: “Baby, how are we going to get this off? Markers aren’t for skin.” He hadn’t even started on cleaning Hyunjin’s face yet.

Chan quickly dried off his hands when his phone started to ring. He answered the call and was greeted by Felix low voice: “Ah hyung, I just remembered something. Did you get the marker off yet?” – “No Lix, I didn’t” – the younger laughed, annoying Chan a bit before he answered: “I figured you wouldn’t. Don’t worry, I have some very good make-up remover in my closet that can also remove marker. I may or may not have had to deal with a few pranks and that was the only thing that really helped. You may wanna try it.” – “Mate, you’re a lifesaver, Jinnie’s already upset with me because I’ve been scrubbing his arms so roughly.” – “No problem, see you later, hyung.” And with that the call ended. Hyunjin was so occupied with his bath toy that he didn’t even realize the leader leaving him for a second to retrieve the bottle of make-up remover Felix had talked about. “Alright cutie, let’s give this another try”, the older hummed, approaching the dancer with a soaked cotton pad. The little just scooted away, shaking his head: “No huwt me again, daddy.” – “Oh sweetie, daddy is sorry. It’s not going to hurt this time, I promise”, the leader cooed. Although hesitant, Hyunjin lifted his arm and allowed Chan to gently brush the cotton pad over it. Felix had been right, the lines were fading and after cleaning both the little’s arms, the caregiver also wiped his face clean with gentle strokes, earning a giggle when he booped the tiny nose.

Not long after Hyunjin had gotten out of his bath and changed into a fresh set of clothes, Jisung and Felix came back home from their trip around town. “Here hyung, we got what you asked for”, Felix smiled, handing the leader a small plastic bag before going to ruffle the little’s wet hair, “I see you’re all clean again, little one.” Chan picked the little up and carried him to his room. “Since you wanted so badly to draw on your face, I asked the two to pick us up some face paint”, the leader explained, dumping the contents of the plastic bag onto the carpet they were sitting on. The dancer face lit up as he pouted at his caregiver with hopeful eyes. “Daddy make Jinnie pwetty? Pleasie?” – “Daddy will make Jinnie really pretty. What do you want me to draw baby?” – “Buttewfly!”, the little squealed, tucking his hair behind his ears. Chan grabbed a headband and put it on the younger before picking up a thin brush and some pink face paint. He started applying the paint with light brush strokes, admiring the sparkle in the younger’s eyes. Hyunjin reached up to touch his face before he remembered not to smear the paint, so he just giggled: “Tickles.” – “There, you look really pretty, Jinnie. But, you know what, you already did that before.”

#skz #stray kids #agere #age regression #fluff #cute #little #little space #headspace #bang chan #hwang hyunjin

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rinoomi · 3 years

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tips on how to get used to using procreate (or more like finding the best brushes and learning to color- ,, im new to digital art)

❅❅ <3

OHH!! I think if you're getting started with any drawing software, you should try all the default brushes first! Procreate has some good ones like nikko rull and shale brush, also the pencils and pens have amazing texture! (HB my beloved) there must surely be artists that you look up to right? yah so start with using brushes that they use or brushes with similar texture as theirs. also try diff kinds of medium brushes like watercolors, acrylic, oils etc (find the one that resonates w you the most!) I try to find brushes that'll suit my artstyle, I'm more into this whole cartoonish/manga kinda style so brushes with textures of crayon or color pencils are my go to! also choosing the right brush for line art (if u do lineart that is) is vv important too!

As for coloring, u need to decide what kind of artsyle you're into! I don't render my works a lot actually. I just use warm/peachy shades for the shadows and mess around with the layer settings and add in some blues in the darkest places. Once you find the right brushes, you'll figure out the coloring style! (trust meee)

I hope this helps!! <3

#chats with fir ☕︎#guest: anon #art stuff

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catsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

Proud of You

Pairing: OT7 BTS x graduating reader PLATONIC! (also could be seen as 8th member)

Summary: Due to the coronavirus, your whole senior year has been destroyed, chewed, and spit out by the universe. You start to get depressed once your robes come, but the boys know just how to make you feel better.

Warnings: The reader kind of gets depressed, Americanized because American graduation and Korean graduation are a little different, like 2 swear words, but nothing else. Lots of fluff!

A/N: This is intended to be for high school seniors but words for college seniors as well, could be a stand alone read or a continuation of Real Family.

“(Y/N), your package came!"

I ignored Namjoon’s yell and cuddled back into the multitude of blankets that swaddled me in a large cacoon.

Quarantine was not faring well with me.

In retrospect, I had it a lot better than most people. I was surrounded by my seven brothers who I loved unconditionally and didn’t have any issues with food shortages or internet issues, but I wouldn’t be able to graduate. That was hard to come to terms with. After twelve long, hard years working at school, and only to be denied all of my senior privileges, seeing my friends, and the top of the cake, graduation. It honestly sucked. But, instead of facing my feelings, I’ve camped out in my bedroom listening to Lo-fi and pretending as if my mental health wasn’t suffering.

”(Y/N)!“ I groaned with protest, rolling out of bed with no care about my ragged appearance. My hair stuck up at odd angles, and my baggy t-shirt and sweatpants weren’t the most attractive outfit I’ve worn. I trudged towards Namjoons shouting voice, ignoring the flambergasted look Jin gave me, and Yoongi’s voice shouting at me to take a shower and that I smelled like Hoseoks dirty socks.

"Oh, you look…” I gave Namjoon an annoyed look,

“dead to the world? Depressed? Annoyed? Sad?” I finally looked down at the package, a medium-sized box shipped from the school.

I frowned, a sneaking suspicion about what it was creeping up on me. I picked up the box and carried it to the kitchen island, quickly grabbing a pair of scissors from the closest drawer and cutting open the top of the cardboard. My frown only grew as I spotted the robes and cap inside the box, the robe that I would never wear because my diploma was going to come shipped to me, like a useless piece of paper.

I ignored the crowd watching me from the sidelines and crawled back to my dark hole of depression, otherwise known as my room. Little did I know the boys were setting a plan into motion before I even shut my door.

Netflix seemed to be my only saving grace. My little kid floaties as I attempted not to drown in the big kid pool. I was just about to finish one of the most important cinematic moments in history, Jane giving birth in the tv show Jane the Virgin. But the show all of a sudden started to buffer, and soon a notification on my computer was telling me the wifi connection failed. Aggravated, I tried to re-type the password only for my computer to tell me it was wrong. I stomped to my door, ready to scream at Jungkook for messing with the wifi only to find the exact boy and Jimin standing in front of my door.

“Uh, hi?” The two looked very suspicious and both their hands were behind their back as if they were hiding something.

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asked, trying to bite back a smile as if he knew he was messing with me. Before I could interrogate him Jimin was elbowing him in the ribs,

“don’t be a brat, Koo.” Jungkook grumbled, and suddenly Jimin was shoving a cardboard box into my arms, the same cardboard box with my graduation outfit.

“Wha-"

"You should try it on.” Jimin pushed, a gleaming look behind his eyes that told me he was planning something.

“Why-"

"If you don’t try it on and come show us, then we won’t tell you the new wifi password.” My jaw dropped as Jungkook let a sly smirk cross onto his face. Those sly dogs. I sent a harsh glare to the two of them,

“fine, but I’m choosing dinner tonight.” Jimin exchanged a glance with Jungkook then ruffled my poor excuse of hair, patting down some of the large knots.

“You drive a hard bargain, deal.” I couldn’t help but smile at their ridiculous antics but before Jimin could shove me back into my room Jungkook was adding,

“be sure to brush your hair though, you look like the walking dead."

The door shut before the hairbrush I threw could hit his head.

——–

The body length mirror in front of me only made me more anxious and sad as I looked over my uniform. The robes weren’t exactly attractive, but they fit, and the sad memories of never being able to walk with my friends or give a speech, fully appreciate the process of graduation only soured my mood. I ran a hand through my freshly brushed hair, I styled it slightly in preparation of being included in a V-live or some other event that showed my face to the public. I wasn’t an idiot, the boys wanted me out of my room, and to look nice so I assumed they would show me off to Army to try and lift my spirits. I didn’t want to do this. A part of me wanted to crawl back into my bed and snuggle under my fluffy blankets, call Jin and tell him that I wasn’t feeling well. They might buy it if I lie and say I’m on my period. Even though I was close with the boys, that was the one thing that always freaked them out, and got them off my back. Just mention blood coming out of their younger sister’s vagina and you’re no longer being teased, a full proof plan. I sighed and leaned against the cool wood of my door, my hand hovering over the metal doorknob. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea, just smile and take a few pictures then you can go back to your room, yeah 30 minutes tops, then I’d be out of there.

With that final boost of confidence, I opened the door only to find Yoongi standing at the end of the hallway, dressed in the fancy blue sweater he only wore to important events.

"Is this a blue sweater event?” I questioned jokingly, but his gaze was still locked on my outfit, and once I got close enough he fiddled with the tassel on the top of my cap.

“I’m so proud of you.” I snorted at his cheesy words, raising an eyebrow,

“for what?” He shrugged as if it was no big deal and offered his arm out to me,

“for being you.”

Yoongi led me into the dark living room, and my eyes barely had a moment to adjust before the lights were blasted on. My own eyes winced at the onslaught of light, but once they adjusted my heart did cartwheels at the sight in front of me. Gold and silver balloons and streamers hung around the room, inflatable letters spelling out graduation hung at the front of the room where Namjoon stood in front of a pedestal, the other boys lined against either side, creating a clear pathway for me. They were all dressed in nice clothes and once I got close enough they each handed me a slip of paper, diploma, written in crayon or colored pencil highlighted at the top of each paper. A personal message below each of them. I couldn’t help but laugh at that, especially after seeing Hoseok misspell graduation in crayon and have to cross it out to rewrite it. Once I was finally in front of Namjoon, he looked at me with one of the proudest and genuine smiles I had ever seen.

“Wow, (y/n) looks so much better in her graduation robes then you did Jungkook,” Taehyung whispered cheekily and an embarrassingly loud laugh erupted from my chest at his words and the comedic look of betrayal that crossed Jungkooks face. Namjoon cleared his throat and then glared at the two before turning to face me,

“Dear class of 2020, It is my greatest honor to be your commencement speaker as you head off to do great things in your lives, as you face graduation day, ready to take on a life full of brand new colors, a palette of opportunities and-” Namjoon filtered off and loosed the bow tie around his shoulder before walking around the pedestal and standing in front of me. “(Y/N), I am so proud of you. I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, balancing all the things you do, from school, to work, living with us, I know we aren’t the easiest family-"

"Excuse you I’m fucking fantastic and (Y/N) appreciates me and our relationship,” Jin spoke up unashamedly, but a grin spread over his face and he was suddenly showing us two thumbs-ups which transferred into hearts.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we just want you to know that we’ve seen how hard you’ve worked and that we will always be here for you. Even after you get your diploma, and face other big events in your life.”

I couldn’t hold back, and my arms were instantly wrapping around Namjoon in a bone-crushing hug, tears forming in the corners of my eyes as Namjoon spoke,

“congratulations (y/n), you graduated."

I’ve been through a lot with the boys, a lot of good memories. From concerts to hangouts, to awards, that time Jin got his tonsils out and thought Namjoon was Britney Spears, but this by far was my favorite memory with them. Or at least a close tie to the Britney Spears moment. Before I could wipe away the tears forming in my eyes Hoseok popped a confetti launcher, the loud bang scaring me out of Namjoons arms as Hobi attacked me in a hug.

"Our strong girl graduated.” He wrapped his arms around me and jumped up and down excitedly, forcing my body to jump with him.

“Let her go Hyung, I want a hug too.” I jumped into Tae’s arms as soon as Hobi let go of me, and smiled while he gently wiped away the tears trailing down my face.

“You better be hungry (y/n), because I made every single dish you ever remotely mentioned you liked.” At the mention of food, I suddenly became aware of the onslaught of smells coming from the kitchen, sensations that made my stomach growl in hunger. Jimin pinched my cheek adoringly and I swatted his hand away,

“I know we said you could pick dinner, but Jin-Hyung really wanted to cook for you-” I cut him off and stood on my tippy toes to kiss his cheek,

“thank you Jimin, really."

"Don’t thank Jimin, this was all my idea!” Jungkook shouted from the other room while Jin smacked him for trying to get into the food without the rest of us.

“Excuse you! This was a joint effort, don’t try and get all the attention.” Yoongi joined in on the shouting while Namjoon sweated,

“if anything I should get extra credit for giving the speech-"

"You begged to do the speech!"

I chuckled while Tae wrapped an arm around my shoulder,

"Congratulations graduation girl, you deserve it.” Before I could thank him, shouting erupted from the kitchen, while Tae blanked in front of me.

“Shit, they got into the silly string.”

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sylvanfreckles · 4 years

Text

Eye of the Beholder

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Sam encourages Cas to try to express himself by taking up drawing. It seems to be a lost cause...until Castiel tries to draw Sam’s soul.

(Something warm and soft and hopeful after FebuWhump)

* * *

Sam leaned against the low wall surrounding the picnic area park and let his head tip back to catch the warmth from the sun. They'd hit this town to check on rumors of a demonic possession at the local college, only to find Claire and Kaia had beat them here and pretty much had the whole thing taken care of. Now, he was enjoying just keeping an ear on the banter as Dean checked over the girls' gear and Jack chattered enthusiastically about the old fantasy novels he'd found on one of the rooms at the bunker (apparently Kaia had heard of the author and they were bonding, much to Claire's amusement).

A hint of movement at his side had him cracking one eye open to see Cas settle into a similar posture. Watching Dean and the kids with a fond look on his face, Cas caught Sam's eye with a smile. “He's good at that.”

“Dean's always been good with kids,” Sam agreed. “Probably because he still acts like he's twelve.”

Cas gave a very un-angelic snort, and Sam shifted around enough to watch the angel now. He couldn't remember when life had been this peaceful before. There were hunts still, sure, but it finally seemed like there wasn't some big bad pulling the strings behind it all. He couldn't remember a time in his life that had been like this—just the routine of the hunt and home, with their own network of friends and family.

It took him a moment to realize Cas's attention wasn't on the others anymore. The angel was looking out across the park at a mural painted on higher wall that ran around the park's perimeter. He was pretty it was a memorial to the town's history as part of the underground railroad, based on what he'd learned before they got here.

“I think the high school kids work on that every year,” Sam commented, nudging Cas with his shoulder. “When I was researching the town I found an article that said it was one of their graduating projects, and every year a group of students repairs and restores the mural.”

Cas shook his head and looked back at Sam. “Humanity's capacity for creation will always amaze me.”

Sam blinked. He hadn't...thought about it like that. Dean had always said Cas was just a weird little nerd, but was that why he always seemed to stop when he saw a statue, or a carving, or a painting? That it wasn't a type of art he preferred, but he was appreciating the human act of creating art?

“Have you ever tried?” Sam asked, trying to be casual about it. “Making something, I mean.”

The look Cas shot him was quick, but Sam thought his friend looked grieved. “Angels weren't made to create. We can only replicate.”

Sam started to protest, but hesitated. Zachariah's Beautiful Room...he'd offered Dean things from Dean's past, not some idealized thing he'd want. Gabriel had pulled from human television to make his TV world. Even Lucifer, in creating Jack, had used a human body to impregnate a human, not some celestial act of creation.

“Have you ever tried?” he repeated.

Cas pushed away from the wall. “There's enough in this world to admire,” he replied, though he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes and his shoulders remained tense. “You don't need my...'pitiful scratchings'.”

* * *

Cas's words twisted through Sam's head as he followed the others through the small downtown area back toward the hotel. Had Cas ever tried to make something around them? Had one of them said something like that? Or was this some distant event from heaven, some other angel stomping out any fraction of individuality?

He pulled up as they passed a small, disorganized craft store. “Hey, go ahead without me,” Sam called when Dean turned around. “We need a couple things.”

Sam waited until the others turned away, giving Jack a reassuring nod and smile, before pushing the door open and slipping inside the store. It was cramped inside, with shelves and bins overflowing, and the smell of cinnamon and beeswax filling the air. It wasn't completely a lie...they always needed things like natural pigments and scraps of leather for hex bags, and some places sold essential oils or crystals he liked to keep on hand for emergencies.

It just wasn't why he was here now. He squeezed past a rack of wooden beads and nearly knocked a dressmaker's mannequin over, but finally found the drawing section. The sketchbooks were easy enough to sort through—he grabbed a large one with a dark cover that had an elastic band to keep it closed when not in use. The pages were about the size of a standard sheet of printer paper, so it was big enough for Cas to have lots of room to experiment on each page but small enough to travel with him. The drawing supplies, though, were a little harder.

Sam stared at the selection of pencils, paints, and markers. If Cas had truly never tried something like this before, where could he even begin? Would he want something like colored pencils, that would have a smooth texture on the page but need to be kept sharpened? Or paints, which might be easier to blend and shade but wouldn't be portable? Or start with the very basics and get a box of crayons and hope Cas didn't think it was too childish?

A long, flat box at the end of the shelf caught his eye. Pastels. He had a flash of memory of one of Jess's friends in college who worked with pastels, the way their hands swept over the canvas to leave bright ribbons of color and then darted back to smooth and shade. Sam could suddenly imagine Cas, pastel stick in hand, a smear of pigment on his chin, brow furrowed in concentration as he filled a canvas with bright color.

He bought the sketchbook and pastels plus some silver charms to make a stronger protection hex bag for Claire's car, to make it seem like the drawing supplies had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. By the time he got back to the hotel Dean had already ordered pizza, while Kaia and Jack had Claire sandwiched between them on the couch as they tried to convince her to watch an old fantasy movie with them (Sam was on their side, Willow was awesome). Cas looked up from picking at the label on his beer bottle when Sam walked up to the table, eyes widening further in surprise when Sam set the bag from the craft store down in front of him and presented the drawing supplies with a flourish.

“I thought you might like to try,” Sam explained as he pulled out a chair and sat down next to Cas at the room's little table. “I mean, I'd kind of be interested in seeing an angel's...uh...'pitiful scratchings', you know?”

Cas hesitantly ran the tips of his fingers over the dark cover of the sketchbook. “Sam...”

“Just try?” he suggested. He scooted closer so that his shoulder brushed Cas's, knowing the physical contact helped when the angel was dealing with something new or difficult. “No one's gonna laugh if you can't do it. Well, maybe Dean, but he's an ass.”

“I heard that!” Dean shouted. As far as Sam could tell, his brother was completely focused on something on his phone. That was obviously just an automatic response.

The angel was quiet. Then, slowly, he tugged the pastels out of the bag and lifted the lid of the box. The colors almost seemed to glow under the room's overhead light, and Cas gently brushed the bright gold stick with the tip of one finger. “I'll try.”

“Good,” Sam bumped Cas's shoulder with his own, then leaned a little more closely against him, grounding him. “I can't wait.”

* * *

Sam bit his lip as he flipped through the first few pages of Cas's sketchbook. The angel leaned against the table almost despondently, arms folded across his chest and head tipped forward so that Sam couldn't see his eyes.

“These are good,” Sam said, trying to sound encouraging. “I mean, they look just like the, uh, things you were sketching. That's...that's good.”

Technically speaking, the sketches were good. There was a vase of wild flowers Kaia had put on the kitchen table the second day of her and Claire's visit. The bust of one of the old Men of Letters. Jack's profile as he read from a large leather-bound book. They were perfect and lifelike and exact, yet somehow...empty.

Cas took the sketchbook out of his hands and gently folded it closed. “Angels weren't given the breath of life,” he said, his voice quiet in the stillness of the library. “We can't...we can't create, Sam. All I can do is copy. These are copies of life.”

Sam winced. “Maybe you just need some practice. I mean, this is your first time, right? Nobody's perfect their first time.”

His friend's smile was sad when Cas finally looked up at him. “I feel no inspiration, Sam. I look at the world and nothing calls to me. The flowers and Jack...I chose those because I knew that was what a human might choose. I could have just as easily chosen the scalpels in the infirmary, or the backseat of the Impala, or every doorknob in the bunker. There's no...it's not creation, Sam. They're just copies of life.”

With a sigh, Sam ran one hand through his hair. “Cas, a lot of artists struggle with that. Maybe you just haven't found the right thing yet. With some more time I bet you could find the, the soul of a vase of flowers, or whatever.”

Cas grunted. “Flowers don't have a soul.”

“You know what I mean. Artists, they...they capture a part of themselves in the world around them. Their art reflects their own soul, you know?”

“I don't have a soul either, Sam.”

“You know what I mean.” Exasperated, Sam took a few steps away, then paced back again. “When you look at something that kind of pulls at your heart, you can make something that has a bit of your soul in it, you know? It's what humans have done for thousands of years, even longer.”

Cas let out a mournful sigh and rubbed one hand over his eyes. “If you could see your own soul you might understand,” he said wearily. “Compared to that even an angel's true form is inadequate.”

Sam huffed out a breath. He'd just wanted Cas to have a new experience, maybe find a hobby that could bring him joy. He hadn't meant to start some kind of identity crisis. Then his friend's words caught up to him. “Wait...Cas, are you saying you can see my soul?”

His friend gave him a flat look. “I am still an angel.”

“No, no, I mean...you can see my soul?”

“Of course, Sam.”

Heart pounding, Sam spread his arms out. “Then draw that!”

Cas stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Why would you want to see something like that?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to see it!” Sam turned in a full circle before grabbing one of the library chairs and dragging it in front of Cas. “Is this good? Or, wait, do you need better light?” His soul through the eyes of an angel...who wouldn't want to see that?

There was still hesitation in Cas's movements as he slowly picked up his sketchbook and lifted the cover off the box of pastels. “You're sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Cas flipped to a clean page and stared over the top of the sketchbook at Sam. Sam waited, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you need me to do something?” he asked, when Cas made no move to start drawing.

Cas frowned, then reached in the box for a pastel. “Just talk. About one of your passions.”

A passion...okay, Sam could do that. Like Dean had always said, he was a huge nerd. “Oh, I found that book about cuneiform we were talking about,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “You were right, the author was completely ignorant of the language schism toward the end of the Bronze Age....”

He talked on and on while Cas drew. The angel glanced up at him from time to time, a little smile brightening his face. It was almost exactly the image Sam had conjured in the craft store...Cas with a smear of pigment on his chin, bright colors filling the page in front of him. As he drew the angel seemed to relax, the perpetual slump of his shoulders easing back, the worry lines in his forehead smoothing out.

Sam could have pumped his fist in victory. He knew this had been a good idea.

Then Cas set the pastels down and hesitantly pulled the lid over the box. He seemed unsure of himself again, tipping the picture up to makes sure Sam couldn't see it.

“Is it done?” Sam asked. “Can I see?”

For a moment he was afraid Cas would refuse, then the angel slowly turned the sketchbook around.

Sam had seen human souls before...or at least he thought he had. They'd been wispy balls of bluish light, nothing too amazing. This was...this was something else.

The page was a riot of colors. Sweeping and dazzling, greens and blues with threads of red twisting through them, all turning back in on themselves over and over. There were jagged cracks in the swirling shapes, but they'd been filled in with a golden color so vivid he almost brushed his finger over the page to see if it felt warm.

“In some cultures,” Cas's voice was quiet as he explained, “when an item is broken they mend it with gold, so it is more beautiful and valuable because of the cracks.”

Sam drew in a breath. “This is how you see my soul?” The cracks...memories of Lucifer and the Cage, everything they'd lost, the darkness he'd hidden for so long...Cas saw them mended in gold?

“Oh, Sam,” Cas's hand was warm on his shoulder and he looked up, surprised to see tears in his friend's eyes. “This is you.”

He swallowed and looked back down. There was so much...so much hope. Despite it being almost incomprehensible swirls of color on paper, he could feel the hope and faith and trust nearly radiating off the page. Was this...was this really what Cas saw in him?

“Whoa, am I interrupting something?”

Sam pulled back, scrubbing a sleeve over his face. He hadn't even heard Dean coming. “We were just,” he tried to explain, gesturing at the page.

Dean was staring, tilting his head to one side. “Okay, man, call me crazy, but why does this look like Sammy?”

He let out a shaky laugh and ran his hands through his hair. “That's my soul, man.”

“You drew this, Cas?” Dean was leaning in even closer. “Ha, yeah, there's the little part that died when I told you Santa wasn't real. It really is your soul.”

Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother's antics and looked up to meet Cas's eyes. “Can I have this?”

“No way,” Dean interrupted, putting his hand on Cas's wrist.

“Dean, it's my soul.”

“Yeah. We're framing it,” Dean took a step back and held his hands up, like he was envisioning the drawing in a frame. “This is going next to the family pictures, Sammy.”

“We don't have family pictures, Dean.”

“We do now,” Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. “You should do Jack next. I'll get 'im.”

“Wait,” Sam lunged after his brother. “What about you?”

“Not happening,” Dean replied, easily twisting away from Sam's hand. “Let me go get the kid.”

* * *

Jack, predictably, was thrilled. He sat in front of his adopted father, eyes bright, as he talked about his first memories of Castiel. Sam stood behind Cas's shoulder and watched the picture take shape—all interlocking golden halos bursting out of a dark shadow, radiating a light that was somehow yellow and blue at the same time that banished that darkness away. It was peace. It was strength. It was family.

It was Jack.

Claire and Kaia were next, crowding together into one of the big armchairs with their fingers intertwined. Sam had been expecting some kind of double drawing, maybe two pages side-by-side, but the drawing Cas produced was somehow Claire, somehow Kaia, and somehow a blend of the two of them that went beyond anything the human eye could see.

“That's what it looks like to be soulmates,” Cas explained when Sam asked.

When they went back to Jody's house with the girls, Jody sat for a drawing. Her soul was all graceful arcs swooping around a central, solid core. Sam could almost feel it extending beyond the page, pulling them all together around the woman who had chosen to care for the motherless.

There were others, as hunters checked in at the bunker or they met them in the field. Eileen's soul was a fury of purple and silver, sharp with the kind of love that dove into battle with sword held high. Bobby's was a blend of muted shades that spoke to the loss the older hunter had experienced, and his determination to carry on.

Sam was dropping a new sketchbook in Cas's room one day, a few weeks later, when he spotted a few loose papers that had fallen out of the old one. Meaning just to pick them up and shuffle them back in, he was startled to find he had a picture of Dean's soul in his hands.

It couldn't be anything else. While Sam's had had cracks mended with brilliant gold, Dean's looked like it had been broken and pushed in on itself over and over, more like overlapping plates of ice from a lake that had been melted and refrozen. There were layers and sharp edges, and a few twisting shadows of darkness that lingered in odd corners.

But it was warm. Despite the cracks and the broken parts...despite the trauma and ache and pain it was good. It was the soul of a man who loved so completely he would—and had—lay down his life for his family.

He heard a shuffle from the doorway, and turned to see Cas was standing there, staring at the paper in his hands with something like guilt on his face. “Sam, I...”

“When did you draw this?” Sam asked in a whisper. “He kept saying he didn't want you to do it.”

Cas hesitated, then approached close enough to gently take the drawing from Sam's hands. “It was from memory. Dean and I have always had a connection, since I pulled him from Hell.”

Sam almost laughed. “A more profound bond?” he teased. Cas's lips twitched in a smile and he nodded. “We should hang it up with the others.”

Shaking his head, Cas frowned down at the drawing. “He keeps saying no one would want to see it.”

“Well, he's wrong,” Sam looped an arm around Cas's shoulders. “Come on, I know where he stashed the extra frames.”

#supernatural #fic #sam winchester #castiel #dean winchester #jack kline #claire novak #kaia nieves #fluff #angst #souls #headcanon #artist castiel #sam is a good friend

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themurphyzone · 5 years

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PatB Oneshot: A Whole New World

AN: Well I did have an angst story in mind which I do have a basic outline for but I feel like I gotta balance some of the more despair-driven stories with some fluff.

I decided to use a HC I posted a few days ago: That Pinky would serenade Brain with A Whole New World. Just with a small modification to help the story flow better. Cause it’s cute and adorable and just let them be happy please.

FFN

Pinky loved endings. Happy endings, teary endings, pencil endings. They were just fun to chew on even if they left a rubbery taste in his mouth!

And when Aladdin and Jasmine kissed on a starlit night filled with fireworks and flew off on their magic carpet, it was so magicafantastical! Or was the right word beauwondersicle? And then the moon turned out to be the Genie the entire time! He never would’ve guessed!

The moon outside was just as big and beautiful as the one in the movie, except it was made of cheese instead of genies. And there was a funny face in the cheese too. Maybe a moon mouse carved it so earth mice would have something to laugh at and brighten up their nights!

That was really kind of them to help cheer Brain up. And hard work deserved a reward! What kind of cheeses and scented soaps did moon mice like?

Making a gift basket would have to be number lollipop on his to-do list though. For now, there was a lovely reprise of A Whole New World. It was such a romantic song, and it didn’t take long before Pinky was swaying and humming along to Peabo Bryson and Regina Belle’s vocals.

The counter was a magic carpet, and the walls twinkled with countless stars. Pinky let his movements flow like a gentle breeze, making sure to keep his limbs tucked inside the magic carpet at all times.

A body cuddling close, warm compared to the cool night air. The warmth spread through his chest, making him tingly and melty and a thousand other things at once, like the time he’d tried plugging a broken cord from one of Brain’s whatchamajigs into an outlet and gotten shocked. Only this was a good tingly and not a painful one.

“Pinky, put me down at once!” a hand clamped around Pinky’s snout and yanked insistently.

Pinky stood on his tiptoes as the song went into the next verse, and the next tug made him slip and tumble. Pinky laughed as his face smooshed against the countertop.

There was an ‘oof’ from underneath him, which was a strange sound for his tummy to make. It usually made more of a ‘gurgurgur’ noise.

“Zort! Tummy, you’ve got it all wrong!” Pinky scolded. “You’re supposed to growl and grumble like something that’s good at being growly and grumbly!”

Pinky had eaten his dinner during the movie, but his tummy growled anyway.

“That’s a good one, tummy! You sound almost exactly like Brain!” Pinky giggled. He arched his back, bending his head so he could get a good look at his tummy, but sneezed when his nose brushed against the fur on Brain’s chubby head.

Brain scowled, fixing Pinky with his best warning glare. “Pinky, if you don’t let me up in the next five seconds, I shall have to hurt you after I finish hurting you for pulling me into your ridiculous dance.”

Pinky stepped aside and helped Brain up, giggling at how Brain’s face resembled a tomato. Brain could turn his entire face red, and Pinky wondered how he could make his own face turn different colors. Maybe a nice indigo? That was his favorite crayon after all.

And so were aquamarine and periwinkle and scarlet and maroon and…well, picking a favorite crayon was harder than he thought. They were all fun colors!

And a sharp pain to his head let him see even more colors. Olive green, smiley face yellow, and there was even a pretty chartreuse!

“Narf…” Pinky murmured, transfixed by all the swirling hues.

Pinky stumbled, landing flat on his face again. After a few seconds, his head stopped swirling and he could see Brain setting his pen down and trying to rub the red out of his face.

“Zort! I saw so many colors! You should try it sometime!” Pinky exclaimed.

Brain shoved his hands into his pockets, and Pinky remembered that he kept meaning to ask Brain about that because he wasn’t wearing pants.

“I’ll have to decline your offer, Pinky,” Brain replied, his fur back to its usual white. “I’m still debating if I should be more concerned about the objects you put into your mouth.”

“Don’t worry, it was just food pellets. We’re all out of moldy cheese and lint balls, remember?” Pinky said.

“Thank you for proving my point,” Brain muttered as he hit the off button on the remote. The cheery music from a car commercial faded away.

“You’re welcome, Brain!”

Brain grabbed Pinky by the arm and half-dragged, half-led him across the counter to where a notepad was propped up by a stack of books for supersmart mice. Great pictures, but how did x get lost from the rest of the letters and wind up in Numberland anyway? It was a mystery that Pinky still hadn’t solved.

“It’s time to focus on tonight’s plan,” Brain declared, lightly tracing a series of music notes with a pencil. “We’ll broadcast our hypnotic emotional song across the airwaves. This song contains lyrics with double meanings designed to pull at a human’s natural curiosity. They’ll have to listen many times in order to understand what I desire to accomplish, and with each repetition, the suggestion will continue to grow until every human on earth comes to the lab on bended knee and a willingness to make me their ruler.”

“Egad, Brain! Brilliant!” Pinky clapped his hands in delight, grinning when he caught a small lopsided ‘I know I’m smart’ smile on Brain’s face. “Oh wait, didn’t we already try this with Spinatra?”

Brain waved his hand dismissively. “Already accounted for. I was too concerned with vocals in that plan. The background instrumentals will have a much more important role this time. I’m even including a swelling crescendo and key change towards the end.”

Pinky gasped. “That poor croissant! It needs cream to help with that swelling!”

“I need cream for the headache you’re inevitably going to cause,” Brain sighed.

“Does this mean you’re singing again? Can you sing it right now?” Pinky asked. “Cause I love it when you sing, Brain!”

Brain squirmed, the redness creeping into his face again. He was funny about singing, acting like he didn’t enjoy it. If the world ruler thing didn’t pan out, then singing would be a great back-up career. Pinky could just picture it!

Brain Maine, the blond international singing sensation whose stage name was a US state for some reason who dealt with normal people things like being a genetically altered lab mouse in his private life!

“We’ll broadcast the song over the radio,” Brain said, avoiding Pinky’s eyes while he busied himself by adding several squiggly lines into the margins around his lyrics. “Yes, this plan requires me to sing. As for your other question…”

He trailed off, mumbling something Pinky couldn’t make out.

Pinky raised a hand to his ear, wondering if he needed to clean it again. He could never find the Q-tips though. “Sorry, Brain. Didn’t quite catch that. Did you say they’re making Goodnight Moon into a Jelly Belly flavor? Because I don’t think paper and jelly beans go well together, poit.”

“No, Pinky,” Brain scowled. “I’m at an impasse. My lyrics are thought-provoking and profound. My notations are highly technical and intricate, logically designed to invoke a strong emotional reaction in listeners based on precedents set by great composers and music theorists in the past. But for all this excellence, I haven’t been able to organize my lyrics into a configuration that will appeal to the auditory pathways.”

Pinky blinked. He knew Brain liked to hide behind big words. That was just how he played hide-and-seek, like how Pinky enjoyed hiding in a paper towel roll. “That’s a lotta big words, Brain. I just want a teensy tiny sneak peek of the song. Unless you still need time on that part. That’s okay, I’ll just run on my wheel while I wait.”

Brain sighed as he crossed out several music notes. “Precisely, Pinky. I’m well-versed in being objective. However, objectivity falls short when a plan hinges on people’s…feelings. The final product needs to be emotional, but I can’t induce a reaction until I know what sounds will produce a maximum effect!”

He threw down the pencil and kicked it away.

Pinky tilted his head, taking in the numerous edits spread over the page. Brain really poured his heart out for these pretty-looking words. Like his heart just tipped out of his chest and he was trying to cover it up again while scolding it for being visible in the first place. And being upset because he couldn’t find the tune for his heart’s song.

Wait…

A heartsong!

“Just like the penguins who saved the South Pole with the power of tap dancing and singing and Robin Williams!” Pinky exclaimed, grabbing Brain by the shoulders. Brain tried to shrug him off, but Pinky clung on. “Brain, that’s what you need! A tune for your heartsong!”

“Pinky, now you’re just babbling,” Brain said, crossing his arms and leaning back as far as he could without falling over. “And don’t describe my hard work as a ‘heartsong’. You’re making it sound like sentimental sap.”

“Sounds delicious!” Pinky replied. “But all you need is just a little inspiration, Brain! Let me help you find a tune so you can feel everything and help the world feel your song too! Please with a maraca cherry on top?”

“Maraschino cherries, as much as it pains me to acknowledge such a childish form of pleading,” Brain corrected. “I assume you’re not letting this, or by extension, me…go until I indulge you.”

“Nope!” Pinky said.

“Very well. I resign myself to whatever you have in your unconventional mind, Pinky.”

O – O – O – O – O

In the end, the setup was just a stereo and a Disney CD with their most popular movie songs. Pinky had decided against wearing his fedora, since Brain didn’t seem to care for his Donald O’Connor impression very much.

Since the CD case had a coffee stain on it that prevented him from finding the song number, Pinky took a moment to listen to the first few notes of each song before pressing the next button. As much as Pinky loved Hakuna Matata, it just wasn’t what Brain needed right now. He’d save that one in case they ever got dropped into the jungle again. It took about nine, or maybe twelveteen tries before Pinky found what he was looking for.

Satsified, Pinky paused the song and turned back to Brain, who was drawing several neat lines on a yellow sticky note.

“What’s that, Brain?” Pinky asked, leaning over Brain’s head for balance so he could get a closer look.

Brain tilted his head to the right and Pinky slipped off, laughing when he landed on his elbow. “I’m setting up my notes, Pinky.”

“We only need music notes, Brain. Not notes-notes or sticky notes,” Pinky said. Sometimes Brain could be a little confused. Why would he need notes for his heartsong?

“Oh yes, Pinky. How silly of me. The notes will just magically write themselves after all.”

Well, of course they would write themselves. But Brain still wouldn’t budge from his sticky note and pencil.

So Pinky decided to resort to drastic measures.

“Chase me!” Pinky shouted, snatching the sticky note and pencil from Brain and dashing around to the back of the stereo as fast as he could while his paws were full. There was an angry growl from behind him, but Pinky had a good head start on Brain. Normally, Pinky slowed his running speed to give Brain a fair chance at catching him, because it just wasn’t fun if the chaser couldn’t catch up to the chasee.

But this time around, Brain would need to listen closely to his feelings, whatever they were. And he couldn’t do that with notes that weren’t music notes.

“Give those back, Pinky!” Brain yelled, rounding the corner just as Pinky stuck one side of the sticky note into his mouth and grabbed a knobby thing from the back of the stereo, hauling himself up with one paw clutched firmly around the pencil.

“Not ‘til after the song!” Pinky meant to say, but it came out more like ‘nafthang’ because of the sticky note. Brain’s paw clamped around the middle of his tail and threatened to pull him down when he was halfway to the top. Pinky clung to his handhold tightly, keeping his legs spread for balance.

The tip of Pinky’s tail flicked against Brain’s nose, and Brain’s grip loosened. Encouraged by this, Pinky let his tail go wild, brushing it against Brain’s eyes, nose, and fur. Pinky glanced down just as his tail lightly danced around the outside of Brain’s ear, watching Brain let go to bat the rest of the offending appendage away.

Brain really did resemble a white and red tomato with ears now that Pinky had a top view. Pinky couldn’t enjoy it for long though. Quickly pulling himself to the top, Pinky laid the note down, taking a few seconds to spit the sticky stuff out of his mouth. Then he braced the pencil against the handle, making sure it wouldn’t roll away.

“I hope you’re happy,” Brain muttered, crossing his arms as Pinky hopped down. “I wouldn’t be so tolerant of your antics if I didn’t need this for research purposes.”

“Oh, I’m plenty happy,” Pinky chirped. “Are you ready for the song now?”

“We’re delayed by ninety minutes,” Brain said. “I suppose I have no choice if this plan is to be implemented in time for morning rush hour.”

“Okey-dokey then! You’ll dance with me?” Pinky said, rushing back to the front of the stereo. His hand hovered over the start button, glancing at Brain for the go-ahead.

Brain opened his mouth to reply, but then it suddenly snapped shut again. He did this several more times, and Pinky realized he probably didn’t know what to say next.

Brain wasn’t familiar with non-smarty mouse stuff, though Pinky knew he could hand Brain a bunch of numbers and letters and squiggles and Brain would find an answer faster than Pinky could blink.

Pinky decided to borrow a page out of Aladdin’s book, making a mental note to return the page later, because what if Aladdin was reading it and the page was important to the story? Pretending he was Aladdin inviting Princess Jasmine onto his magic carpet, Pinky held his hand out to Brain.

“Do you trust me?” Pinky asked, giving Brain his best reassuring smile.

Brain just stared down at Pinky’s hand like it was covered in really icky goo.

“Do you trust me, Brain?” Pinky repeated.

“With certain things more than others,” Brain admitted after a long moment, slipping his hand into Pinky’s. “Remember, this is strictly for research purposes only.”

Pinky hit the play button, and a gentle piano melody flowed out of the speakers.

The lab quickly melted away and they were dancing on a magic carpet, a starry sky above and a bustling city below. Romantic music flew by, supported by a gentle breeze.

“I can show you the world-“

Brain jerked slightly, eyes wide as the wind sweetly sang about the world beyond the lab and domination. Pinky carefully reeled him in, helping him balance until he could find his footing again.

The world was bathed in silvery moonlight, and the shadows weren’t so scary when they flew by on their magic carpet. Pinky’s fur brushed against Brain, sending millions of tingly little sparks through his body as they weaved around brick and stone and steel, not wanting even a single building to interrupt their dance.

And they were going up, so high that Pinky could reach out and touch the clouds. He’d always wanted to dance on fluffy, cottony clouds. The ground was a million miles below, but Pinky wasn’t afraid. Brain and the magic carpet wouldn’t let him fall.

Then Pinky was tugged in a completely different direction from where he’d been trying to go, only for the step to be hastily corrected at the last second. Brain’s eyes flicked down when Pinky looked at him, so Pinky gave his hands a squeeze to let him know it was alright if he wanted to lead now.

Brain liked control, and Pinky wanted to return his efforts in kind.

With newfound confidence, Brain swept Pinky into a wide arc. Every step precise, every turn sharp. The world blurred around them, Pinky’s heart beating rapidly as he kept up with Brain’s commands.

Forests, oceans, deserts, and mountains disappeared into the distance just as fast as they came by. Pinky saw the sprawling Great Wall of China, the huge Empire State Building, the wavy Sydney Opera House, and numerous other landmarks he couldn’t remember the names of. All part of this world, and they would belong to Brain someday.

Brain’s breathing grew heavier, coming out in little puffs of air, and Pinky’s throat felt tight. Tight like he’d just run so fast, so far, without stopping to catch his breath.

The lab came back into view, the last of the stars fading into the dark walls.

The stereo played the first line of I’ll Make a Man Out of You, so Pinky turned it off. They weren’t ready for a fast-paced training montage.

They headed back to their cage for a much-needed drink of water, and Brain guzzled down nearly half the bottle before letting Pinky have his turn. While Pinky drank his fill, Brain’s attention returned to his notebook, filling in the pages with renewed vigor.

“Did you find your heartsong, Brain?” Pinky called, rushing over to find a bunch of music notes and squiggly lines that hadn’t been there before. “Zort! That’s a lot of circles!”

Brain drew several more lines, filling the spaces with even more music notes. “Whole notes, Pinky. I’m including several long ones to help enhance the emotional quality of my work. However, there’s one significant change I’d like…no, need to make before we broadcast it over the radio.”

Pinky waited, noticing that Brain swallowed a very huge gulp down his throat. “Um, Brain? I think something’s stuck in your throat. Are you okay?”

“Iwanttomakeitaduet,” Brain mumbled.

Pinky blinked. “Is that another big word?”

“I said I want to make it a duet, Pinky!” Brain shouted. Then he took a moment to rub his big head, sighing heavily. “Apologies.”

“Gesundheit,” Pinky grinned.

Brain paced around, murmuring to himself. “Hydrogen bonding. A hydrogen and oxygen atom forming a bond…no, it’s more covalent than hydrogen. Hydrogen bonds are weak unless there’s millions to create surface tension. Covalent bonds are much stronger. And a duet is chemistry in lyrical form, showcasing the singers’ covalent bond-“

“I can’t wait to duet with you, Brain,” Pinky declared, pouring every ounce of feeling into his words as he could. “What am I singing?”

“-like carbon with hydrogen, or even just two of the same element. And you’ll need to know your part. Of course.”

Brain copied the song onto a separate sheet of paper, then grabbed a pink highlighter from a drawer and drew it across two verses and the refrain. Pinky’s parts in pink for easy remembering! This was gonna be a fun plan!

“Pinky?”

Pinky looked up from his paper. Brain was half-turned to his notebook, half-turned to Pinky.

“If you want to know how I felt earlier, the best description I can think of is…weightless.”

He felt happy feelings when Brain’s eyes gleamed in triumph at an idea. Scared feelings when he was trapped in a maze without Brain to guide him. Sad feelings when Brain yelled and grumped and cried because he thought Pinky didn’t want to be with him anymore.

And weightless feelings?

Pinky thought of dancing in the sky and the rush of happiness he felt when Brain took the lead. Cuddling together if the lab grew too cold, listening to big words, imagining what they would do when Brain took over the world.

“That’s a good feeling to have, Brain.”

“Yes, Pinky. It is.”

AN: I think I’ve listened to way too many 90s love songs. I tried watching the Pinky POV to help me get into Pinky’s mindset, and wow that episode is weirder than I remember it. I’m sorry, but Pinky was visualizing a thong on Brain I don’t know what to say that XDXDXD

So, references. I’m not very good when it comes to pop culture outside of animation, musicals, and animated musicals but yeah. Robin Williams voiced Lovelace in Happy Feet and of course Genie in Aladdin (we don’t talk about the live action one here). Pinky would totally love the concept of the heartsong.

Honestly, the Brain Maine thing came about because I was thinking, ‘hey, Maine rhymes with Brain’. That’s it. My mind just be like that.

Donald O’Connor sang Make Em’ Laugh in Singin’ in the Rain, which the segment Just Say Narf parodies.

And of course, Aladdin, but that doesn’t bear repeating here I think.

I need to find a new song now. I lost track of how many times I listened to A Whole New World in the past few days.

#pinky and the brain #fanfiction #oneshot #brinky

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lunerbean · 6 years

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Witch Tips 16

Every 100 followers this blog gets, I post 10 tips to help you in your witchcraft journey. Sometimes they're spells, sometimes they're "life hacks" follow for more, and search the tag #10tips on my blog to see the previous entries.

1. Set realistic expectations

When first starting witchcraft, a lot of people make the mistake of believing that any spell is 100% going to happen no matter what. But you need to accept that there are limits. For example, you can execute the perfect spell to help you get a job, but nothing will change if you stay at home and never fill out any applications. The power is inside you, you need to give it the room it needs for it to flourish.

2. Download, print out, or copy down a moon calendar for the year

Moon calendars are not only beautiful and aesthetically pleasing, but they are also fundamental for your craft. By placing a copy of a new years moon calendar in your grimoire or book of shadows, you'll have taken a great step towards improving your craft. Moon phases have a huge impact on how a spell will work. It's also essential to know what sort of spells work best for each moon phase.

3. You don't have to be a perfect witch

Listen, my dudes. It's okay if you don't do witchcraft everyday. It's okay if you muck up spells now and then or don't always have all the ingredients. It's okay if you don't want to divulge in every area of magick. It's even okay if you don't have any of the "essentials" that I, or other witches have talked about. Just do your gosh darn best, okay? You're fine.

4. Here's a spell to stop overthinking

Gather:

•1 candle

•1 amethyst crystal

•1 fire safe bowl

•A piece of paper

•Pen/pencil/crayon. Anything to write with

Cast your circle. On the paper, write down exactly what your thoughts are revolving around. Was it something you said or something someone else said? Was it a bad day at work or school? Write the problem down as simply as you can. Clutch the amethyst to your heart with one hand. Say,

"My troubles exceed the space they deserve.

I will cast them away with grace and nerve."

Take a deep breath. Try to hold it while you light the candle. Slowly exhale then say,

"My mind is a clear and peaceful lake,

For inner peace is mine to take."

Carefully, light the piece of paper on fire with the candle flame. Set it in the bowl and say,

"My troubles are burned, gone away.

My thoughts are calm on this day."

Blow out the candle.

5. Some things to do when you're in a slump

Honestly, I've been pretty depressed lately due to things I just can't seem to get control of in my life. I know this happens to everyone and it can take a serious toll on your ability to practice. If you can, here are some things I recommend you try out when you're just not feeling up to it.

Drink tea, stirring counter clockwise to banish the crappy feelings.

Put all of your crystals on you (sometimes you just don't have it in you to research which ones will help. Try them all, why not?)

Color the pages of your grimoire

Play a peaceful song for your plants

Light some francense incense to dispel anxiety (or just sniff it. I get it)

Brush your hair while making up spells to make you feel better.

Draw a sigil for happiness on your skin with something nontoxic.

Ask a fellow witch to cast a spell on you or make you a charm bag. (Asking for help is so hard, I know. But if you can, it'll help a lot)

Feel free to add more ideas in the comments below.

6. Get a localized star chart!!

I'm obsessed with these. I learned about them in my astronomy class and I love them like crazy. They're based on your latitude (probably longitude too...?? Ooohh I'm a bad astronaut) and they show you exactly where the stars are places in the sky. There are two parts, which you adjust to fit the day/month & time of which you're looking at them. This can help so much for spells that involve the stars, astronomy, & I just freaking love them. I actually need to get a new one since I moved up the coast. I got mine at my college, but if you don't have that option they're online as well, you just need to know your coordinates when purchasing.

7. A cauldron cleaning tip

This is specifically about cleaning and not cleansing although I can talk about that next time if you'd like.

While there are plenty of ways to clean a cauldron, I've found the best way is to mix salt and oil and scrub it down with a bristled brush. Coarse ground sea salt is the most effective on particularly stubborn stains. I've only ever uses olive oil, so I can't personally speak for caster oil or coconut oil, etc. But I imagine it would work just as well.

8. Tarot Tip: There is a story being told

When reading tarot, many people make the mistake of only reading the cards as individuals, and not part of a story. For lack of a better metaphor, it's like picking up a book and only reading the lines about the main character. Yes, you'll probably get the gist of it, but you'll miss a lot of important details. Each tarot spread tells an entire story, the cards chosen are each key elements, but they can mean different things and tell a bigger story when put together.

9. You can put a spell on everything you eat & drink

This practice is huge in kitchen witchery. It's very simple too & can even be done silently. If you're drinking something, hold onto the cup for a moment and recite a little spell or focus positive energy into the glass. Alternatively, you can stir the liquid (remember, clockwise to invoke and counterclockwise to banish) If you're eating something, you can do the same thing by holding the item itself or by holding onto the plate. You could even just hover your hands above the food if you want. This is a great practice for everyday magick that doesn't require a lot of effort or preparation.

10. Candles can help you meditate

Candle meditation is a great way to clear your mind when you're having difficulties. It gives you something to concentrate on that doesn't involve much thought. Flames are absolutely beautiful and they can be so nice to just sit and watch. Sometimes, when you're really stressed, it can be difficult to sit still with your eyes closed. Especially when you're trying to meditate as a way to calm your mind. Try some candle meditation out and see how you like it.

Thank you so much for reading my latest #10tips. I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to send an ask if you have any questions or just want to tell me something neat. Have a magical day.

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angelitecloud · 5 years

Text

A Tick(ly) Favor

This is an Undertale tickle fic. I’ve tried my best to write it so that everyone can enjoy it, even if you aren’t familiar with the community. TickleTale belongs to ghastimafrix. Ink belongs to @comyet. Error belongs to Crayon Queen. Word Count 3,651. Enjoy!

“Heh heh. What’s that face for?”

“Well, to be completely honest, when you said you wanted my help to create something, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

A large laboratory loomed over the two skeletons. One had on a yellow t-shirt with a teal T printed on it, purple shorts and a pink hoodie with magenta feathers lining the hood. The other was dressed in tan with a brown sash holding vials of color, a long brown scarf wrapped around his neck, and a paintbrush the size of a broom across his back.

“Come on, Ink,” the one in pink smirked, “I thought you liked creating things.”

“It’s only my entire being.” The other smiled, pointing at his brush with his thumb.

“Well, then what’s the hold up?” He replied, putting his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“I don’t know, Tick,” Ink smiled, putting a hand on his chin, “test subject doesn’t quite tickle my fancy.”

“Nice,” Tick chuckled, “so do you want to see it?”

“I guess I’d better after coming all this way.” Ink winked.

“Sounds good,” Tick nodded, turning towards the large building, “follow me.”

“Alright, but no sneak attacks.” Ink replied, keeping his guard up. He’d already had his first run-in with this Alternate Universe, and though it was entirely harmless, it did result in one of his fastest and definitely most embarrassing defeat. Using magic while being tickled to pieces didn’t seem difficult, but his first encounter with Tick had proved him very wrong. He didn’t personally mind tickling that much, but, being a supposed protector of the Alternate Universes, he wanted to keep his ticklishness on the downlow. He wasn’t any more sansitive than his other alternate versions, Tick included, but still.

“Don’t worry,” Tick winked, pulling on a pink lab coat, “I already got you once, and I told you I wouldn’t do it again unless you provoked me.”

“That is true,” Ink grinned, nodding, “and you have kept good on that, but you know as well as I do it’s not a bad thing to be a little suspicious around here.”

“Very true,” Tick smirked.

The pair entered the main area of the lab, sparkling floors and dormant sets of lab equipment were set neatly out on tables. Everything seemed just like the other Alternate Universes Ink had visited, except for the wall of hundreds of feathers, brushes and other objects which he assumed tickled in some capacity. It never dawned on him how many different ways one could call upon the silly tingles. Seeing them all whilst following behind the skeleton who could take control of them at any moment and bring him to his knees with laughter made butterflies fill his stomach.

Tick walked up to a side room and opened a pair of swinging doors. “Come on in,” he smiled. A metal table filled the center of the room surrounded by plastic, pink barstools. Other than a sink and pink cabinet, the room was empty. It was smaller than expected and, other than a clipboard and pencil, thankfully absent of any tools.

“Take a seat and I’ll sit across from you.” Tick said, heading for the cabinet.

“Alright,” Ink grinned, moving his brown scarf out of the way before plopping down on the chair, determined not to let his nerves show. “If I remember correctly, you told me it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so it’s new new?”

“Well, to my knowledge anyway.” Tick replied, taking a shimmery, pink jar down from the cabinet.

“You know, that’s a fair point, but you made it right?” Ink asked, resting his head on his hands.

“Yep, heh, well…me and Alphys of course.” He chuckled, bringing it over to the table.

“Oh, geez. The herpes of the art world.” Ink smiled, rolling his eyes.

“Well…that’s what it looks like, but it does more then sparkle.” Tick smirked.

“Boy, I wonder what that could be?” Ink mused, putting his hand on his chin in mock thought. Then his eyes flashed yellow and pink and his smile disappeared. “Wait a second, you mean to tell me that that jar of glitter is really some sort of tickle-dust?”

“I didn’t tell you anything, but I won’t deny it.” Tick chuckled, putting on pink rubber gloves.

“Woah, slow down,” Ink said, putting his hands down on the table and pushing himself up, “I never said I was going to test it!”

“You’re right, I wasn’t going to do anything before asking.” Tick smirked, placing his hands flat on the table.

“Is this even safe? What if it gets inhaled or something?” Ink asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“We’ve been testing it already,” Tick assured, his eyes softening, “we made sure it was safe. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“What do you need me for if you already know it works?” Ink asked, narrowing his eyes.

Tick’s smile disappeared. “Look, I understand your apprehension, but this would be huge for us. We want to make sure it works on people from other universes…just in case.”

“Oh…” Ink’s eyes flashed blue and his heart sank. It was no secret that alternate universes sometimes try to take over or damage other ones. Ink and Error, another skeleton focused on the preservation of the multiverse, did their best but they weren’t perfect. Tick’s alternate universe, TickleTale, didn’t fight the same as the others and if faced with someone super dangerous, wouldn’t be able to defend itself.

The artistic skeleton sank back onto the chair and hid his face in his hands. “What do you need me to do?”

“Hey, it won’t be too bad,” Tick tried, “afterwards I can tell you exactly how it works, what the antidote is, and so on.”

“Okay,” Ink sighed, laying his arms on the table. The butterflies had resumed their fluttering. He wasn’t frowning anymore, but his smile was missing and he wouldn’t look up.

“Come on,” Tick sang, “if you’re really good, my brother and I can make you cookies!”

Ink looked up again, his eye lighting up with his usual yellow star. “Heheh, alright!” He smiled. “So, what mess am I about to get into?”

Tick beamed at his friend’s happiness. “Shouldn’t be anything too major,” he replied, standing up and moving over to the cabinet and taking down a large, empty beaker and a bucket out from under the sink.

“What are those for?” Ink asked, eyeing the containers.

“The antidote,” Tick replied, filling the beaker with the bucket’s contents and putting it within Ink’s reach.

He lowered his face close to the glass container, looking for particles but finding none. “Just plain water?”

“Yup!” Tick nodded, opening the jar. Ink’s butterflies began flying in panicked circles. “I’m going to need your hand.” “My hand?” Ink asked.

“Yes,” Tick smirked, taking a measuring scoop out of his lab coat pocket, “or would you rather I tested it on your foot?”

“No!” Ink laughed, offering his hand. “That’s what I was worried you were going to say!”

“Not this time, and bold of you to give me your dominant hand but I want you to still be able to use your magic. Also, gloves are cheating.” Tick replied. Ink playfully rolled his eyes, swapped his left hand for his right, and removed his fingerless glove. Tick gently took hold of Ink’s wrist and took out a scoop of the ‘glitter.’ “Ready?”

Ink smiled nervously, nodding. Tick gently dumped the sparkles into Ink’s palm.

“Keep your hand still, and don’t move it until I tell you to.”

“Alright.” Ink replied, watching the dust intently while Tick picked up the clipboard and scribbled notes on it. Seconds, then minutes ticked by, but the sparkles still sat dormant in Ink’s hand.

“Uhh…now what?” The scarf wearing skeleton asked, resting his head on his free hand.

“Mmm,” Tick replied, flipping through his notes, “close your hand over it and rub it between your fingers.” Ink complied. Tick’s eyes watched Ink’s face and hand carefully, but there was no reaction. He frowned.

“Based on your expression, I take it didn’t work?” Ink asked, relieved he wasn’t dying of laughter, but also disappointed for his friend.

“I don’t know…let me see?” Tick replied, gently holding Ink’s wrist and staring at it intently. “It’s not activating…” He sighed heavily, pulling the beaker over towards himself. He took out another spoonful of the dust and cupped his right hand.

Ink watched him with wide yellow and orange eyes. He knew by multiverse law Tick was just as ticklish as he was, but he’d never seen any proof.

“What happens next doesn’t leave this room, got it?” Tick growled, his pupils disappearing from his eyes.

Ink sat back from him in alarm putting his left hand on his brush. “Y-yeah! I thought we were already at that point!”

“Okay,” Tick blinked, his eyes reverting back to normal. “Good.” He lowered his gaze and a light pink tone graced his features as he put the scoop in this own palm. He shivered, holding his breath as he rubbed it with his thumb. He flinched hard and froze, his face contorted in a pained smile. Ink watched in bewilderment as his friend suddenly surged forward, stuffing his entire hand in the beaker and going limp.

“Oh, man…” Tick panted, “never…again.”

Ink stared wide-eyed. He didn’t know whether to be nervous, amused, concerned, relieved or–oh no. He felt his stomach rising up into his throat. His eyes widened and he clenched his hand shut on the dust, turned, and spat black ink all over the adjacent barstool.

“Ink!” Tick cried, jumping up, “What the-?”

“I’m,” Ink coughed, wiping his face on his sleeve, “I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Fine?” Tick replied, walking around the table. “Yeah, right!”

“No, really!” Ink assured, smiling softy. “This is normal, it happens sometimes.” He snapped his fingers and the barstool was clean again.

Tick narrowed his eyes. “You sure? You know what happens to liars.”

“Mmmhm!” Ink nodded, turning back towards the table. “You can ask Error if you don’t believe me.”

“Okay…if you say so.” Tick grumbled, walking back to his notes and sitting down. He flipped through them. “Care to explain what just happened?”

“Oh! That happens when my composition becomes imbalanced.” Ink shrugged, laying his arms flat and opening this right hand again. “It’s a glitch, just a…a consequence of being an outcode.” Ink and others like him didn’t have a universe to call home. It was a blessing not having to worry about losing his friends and family, but it was a curse not having them in the first place.

“Hey, it’s all good.” Tick assured, looking up from the clipboard. “We all have our quirks.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ink said, trying to hide his smirk. Now he knew Tick was ticklish without a doubt. The greatest tickler in the multiverse done in by his own abilities? That was pretty silly.

“So, I think I might’ve figured it out.” Tick said, putting the clipboard down on the table. “Can you turn just your hand into ink?”

“Yup!” Ink smiled, his free hand melting into liquid blackness.

“Nice,” Tick replied, pushing the beaker towards his friend, “but I meant your other hand.”

“Oh, right.” Ink stared down at the dust sparkling threateningly in his hand and took a deep breath. His stomach fluttered warningly as it shifted to the dark substance, absorbing the glitter immediately. His eyes widened and he made his hand go back to normal, but the pink dust was gone.

“Great!” Tick’s eyes flashed in excitement and he picked up the clipboard. “Now don’t move.”

Ink opened his mouth to respond and pins and needles swamped his hand, prickling madly. He gasped at the sensation and bit his lip, trying to follow directions despite every bone in his body wanting to dissipate the tingles.

“I-it f-feels so s-so weird!” He shivered, using his entire will to focus on keeping still.

“Good!” Tick smirked, “You can move now.”

Ink sighed in relief, flexing his hand and waving his arm to try and wake up the limb. The tingles died down and what felt like blunt fingernails traced ever so lightly on his palm. He yanked his hand away from the sensation and narrowed his eyes at the skeleton in front of him. Tick’s eyes watched from over the top of the clipboard, behind which he hid massive smile. He was also holding it with both hands.

Ink’s face contorted in confusion until the gentle touches returned, teasingly running up his arm towards his shoulder despite his long sleeves. His eyes widened and he tried to shift away, but it followed him as if he hadn’t moved before stopping on a random spot on the inside of his arm. The ghost fingers suddenly jumped up in speed scribbling light and fast, forcing a tiny smile onto Ink’s face.

“Having fun?” Tick snickered.

“Ohokay! V-verhery funny!” Ink replied, pulling his arm to his side in attempt to snuff out the gentle tickles. “Ihihit works! Now what?”

“What does it feel like?” Tick grinned.

“L-like yohou dohon’t know!” Ink replied, flinching as the fingers multiplied, keeping up the pace on that randomly ticklish spot and jumping over to his ribs. He clapped his left hand over his mouth to contain the stream of giggles as the fingers danced up and down his right side.

“Actually, I don’t,” Tick shrugged, smirking at Ink as he leaned and twisted in his chair. “The sensation changes depending on the person.”

More hands joined slowly and gently tracing each one of his right ribs. “Hahahahands!” Ink giggled, slamming his own down on the table. A huge ticklish smile covered his face.

“What about them?” The observing skeleton smiled. A ghost finger appeared on his stomach, lightly drawing circles, triangles, squares and all sorts of shapes.

“Tihhihihick!” Ink whined, curling into himself to protect from the light tickles. They were gentle, playful, and frustratingly impossible to ignore.

“Okay, okay!” He said, “Are they soft, sharp, heavy, light?”

“Why dohohoes it mahahATTER?” Ink asked as another group of hands began lightly tracing his left ribs. He threw his arms over his head, trying his best to cope with all the light scratches. It wasn’t even that intense, but the tracing and shape drawing was forcing his attention back to the sensations. The realization that the hands were teasing him with his own talent made his face warm in a rainbow colored blush. He hid under his scarf, determined to not let Tick see his face.

“It doesn’t, but I’m curious as to how many different sensations it can produce,” Tick replied, smiling down at his friend. “I’m also curious as to why you’ve let it go on this long.”

“I-It cahahan s-stop nohohow?” Ink tried, but his voice was muffled by the fabric.

“Heh heh, what was that?” Tick mused, leaning forward and putting a hand up to his ear.

“Ihihihit can STOP?” Ink cried, arching his back as more fingertips gently circled and swirled up from his ribs and onto his shoulder blades.

“Yeah, you could’ve used the antidote at any time!” Tick chuckled. Ink’s groan jumped up in pitch as invisible fingers scribbled along his neck. He reached blindly for the beaker, missing it repeatedly. The observing skeleton stifled a laugh and pushed it to his friend’s reach. Ink grabbed it, turned his hand to ink and submerged it in the water, but his giggles continued.

Tick’s eyes widened. Instead of the usual pitch-black substance, Ink’s hand had pink colored liquid swirled within it. Ink scrunched up his shoulders to protect his neck and all the fingers froze. He took deep breaths and all but melted into the table.

Tick sighed in relief, “You okay?”

Ink nodded, pushing himself up. “Yeah, you’re rihiHIGHT!” Ink jumped as two fingertips slowly circled each side. He turned and glared at Tick, but his eyes were wide in concern.

“You said water would stop IHIT!” Ink squeaked as a hand gently scratched itself in a circle on his stomach. His arms flew to his middle to block it.

“It’s still happening?” Tick asked, wide-eyed.

Ink nodded, a lopsided smile on his face. “But it–” All the hands suddenly returned, skittering in small, tight circles. “PffftahahahahAHAHA!”

“Ink!” Tick cried, picking up the water bucket and following him as he scrambled backwards from the table in a futile escape attempt. Usually he’d find such displays of pure ticklishness amusing, but his creation had gone rouge and against a friend no less. “You have to switch to ink for it to stop!”

Ink continued backwards until hitting the back wall, laughing at the devilish scribbles as he slid down to the floor. The tickly circles followed him, getting lighter and faster. “Thehehehehey WOHOn’t stahaHAHAHAHA!”

“Ink, you have to concentrate!” Tick cried, desperately trying to think of a Plan B. Ink squealed in his laughter as more fingers began swirling around his feet, underarms and spine.

“NonoNOHOHO! Nahaha!” Ink laughed, hiding his rainbow blush in his hands. “Tohoho maAHAHANy CIRCLES!” The hands stopped and he gasped for breath, a wide smile across his rainbow-hued face as ghost circles shimmered across his body.

Tick stared in absolute bewilderment before snapping back to reality. “Switch to ink, now!”

“Right,” Ink panted, completely turning to murky darkness with tinges of pink. He turned his arm over in confusion, eyeing the pink tones. Tick threw the bucket of water at Ink who’s eyes widened as two triangles were drawn ticklishly on his sides.

He popped back to normal just before the water hit him, giggles spilling out of his mouth. “Hehehe! Noho! No mohohohore!”

Tick smacked his forehead, looking at his friend now laying with his back arched over his brush, sopping wet on the lab floor. “Ink! Are you kidding me?” Fingertips traced a third triangle on Ink’s stomach. “S-sorryhehe!” He replied, “I cahahan’t hehelp it!”

“I know,” Tick groaned, hurrying over to the sink and refilling the bucket. “You need to-” but he was cut off by Ink cackling from the floor as the fingertips resumed their all over quick skitter in tiny triangles.

“PleAHAHA! TheheHEse are WOHOHORSE!” Ink laughed, his blush intensifying, “StoHOHOP wihihith the t-triHIHIangles!” The hands stopped and he gratefully took in air.

“Hang in there! It’s almost full!” Tick called, topping off the bucket and heading back around the table.

Ink nodded and pushed himself up to a sitting position. When he saw his friend he immediately turned to ink, and two squares scribbled themselves into his sides forcing him to smile and lose his concentration.

“Nohoho! Wahait!” He giggled, holding his hand up to stop Tick but it was too late. Water sloshed over him again as he sat there, hugging his middle to protect against the silly shapes.

“Are you flip flopping me?!” Tick cried, trying to keep calm. He needed the dust off Ink but he wasn’t cooperating too well. The longer it was on, the worse it got.

The fingers tickled a large square across his stomach and his eyes widened. It was playing a game with him, a very silly, embarrassing game. “Hahaha! N-nohohot that!” His face burned with all hues.

“Sorry,” Tick replied, hurrying for the sink again, “but this is the only way to get it-” Little squares scribbled all over.

“PfftAHAhA! NoAHAHA! AllrihiHIHIGHT! S-S-SQUAHAHARES!” Ink squealed. The hands stopped and he fell forward panting and turning to ink. Almost as soon as the laughter stopped giggles filled the room again and Ink returned to normal, save for the blush that now reached down to his neck. Thankfully, his scarf hid it from view.

“Hehehe! R-R-Rehehehectangle!” Ink cried, and he stopped giggling, became fluid, shuttered, became solid, and began giggling again. “Diahahehe! Dahaimond!” He jumped and fell onto his side, facepalming and dying of laughter. “NEAHAHAHA! S-SohohoreHEHEhe! UhhAHA! HEHE! KihihiTE!” Tick stood motionless, confused beyond reason as to what was happening to his friend. Ink stopped laughing again and scrambled to his feet, rushing over to Tick.

“It’s on a cycle!” Ink cried, a smile already taking over his face. “You h-have to thihihime ihihit!” He sank back to the floor, hugging his stomach. “Ohoho noho…aha? Uhhuhuh hmmheheh! he-hexahahagon? Yay okahay! Pffftehehehe! Haha! S-stahahar?”

Tick nodded, narrowing his eyes as his friend flickered between pink-tinged ink and his normal self, rambling on about shapes between peals of giggles and bursts of laughter trying to figure out the pattern. He put a hand on Ink’s shoulder, waiting for another shape. Ink was so preoccupied with the ticklish traces he didn’t even notice.

“Trahaha! Tr-trahahapazohohid!”

Tick tightened his grip and let his magic surge, teleporting the two of them beyond the lab over the rippling waters of Waterfall. Ink switched to murky darkness just as the pair hit the cool waters. They re-appeared on the surface and moved to the shore, the tickle monster pulling his exhausted friend behind him.

“Th-thank you.” Ink wheezed, dragging himself up out of the water.

“All gone?” Tick asked, taking off the lab coat and his sopping wet hoodie.

��Yeah…” Ink replied, wringing out his scarf, “I think so.”

“Good,” He sighed, examining the ruined feathers on his hoodie. “I’m sorry. That went way further than I intended.”

“It’s okay,” the artistic skeleton replied with a small smile, snapping his fingers, “I know you didn’t mean it.”

The feathers magically repaired themselves, fluffing out like new. Tick looked back at his friend, still drenched in water, but thankfully still smiling. “Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal, it was-”

“No, it was a huge deal,” Tick grinned, standing up. “Come on, it’s time to make it up to you.”

“Heh, that sounds great,” Ink replied, getting to his feet. “As I tried to say earlier, you were right.”

“About what?” The other skeleton asked, pulling on his hoodie.

Ink chuckled, sighing, “never again.”

#tickle #writing #fluff #ink!sans #tick!sans #tickletale #undertale #tickle dust #fanfic #tickle fic

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tbehartoo · 5 years

Text

The Prize Winning Purse

Rating: General

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Summary: When Marinette and Alya go digging in their purses some weird things surface.

a/n: not beta’d so please be forgiving of my mistakes. I’ll be glad to fix them if you send me a message. This is based on a conversation with @platypan

also on AO3

*** “Hey Alya,” Marinette said as she sat down next to her friend, “Do you remember what I did with that Wonder Woman scarf I made for the lady that had survived her second bout of cancer? You know, our customer who could only eat our baguettes while going through chemo because everything else just made her too nauseous.” She put her bag on the desk and started pulling items out. “I know I showed it to you and I thought I put it in here to give to her, but now it seems to be missing.”

Alya frowned as she thought back to the previous day.

“I think I gave it back to you,” she said as she pulled her own purse up to the desk, “but I’m not sure. We got distracted by that akuma attack. Didn’t we?”

Marinette facepalmed.

“I forgot about that,” she pulled out her wallet and set it on the desk next to the blue and white ceramic creamer and the red striped saucer that she had removed from her bag.

Alya already had out her sunglasses, keys, and wallet but then pulled out a miniature heating pad and a handful of tea packets.

“I’m almost sure I gave it back to you right before the alert went off-” she mumbled.

Both girls continued to pull out items: pens, pencils, small note books, a calendar, a screwdriver the size of the pens, and other items were removed from the bags.

“Hey ladies,” Nino said as he and Adrien came into the room. “What’s going on?”

“Mari showed me an amazing scarf yesterday that was a gift for a friend,” Alya said as she removed a pair of night vision goggles from her purse. “We can’t remember who had it when the akuma alert went off. So were checking our bags to find it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Adrien said.

“That’s quite the collection you girls have,” Nino said as he sat at the desk he shared with Adrien.

“What do you mean?” Marinette asked absently as she pulled a box of crayons and a couple of paint brushes out to join her watercolors.

“I see dishes, crayons, paint, hand warmers, binoculars, and-” he took another look at Alya’s pile, “- a Dart GUN, Alya?”

“Do not knock Señor Dart!” Alya said a little too loud for Nino’s comfort. “Last month it was the only thing that kept that irate cabbie from being re-akumatized two seconds after Ladybug de-evilized the butterfly.”

He gingerly reached up and patted the item being discussed. “Good work Señor Dart,” he said with a serious look on his face, “please keep that up.”

“It’s not like our stuff is that unusual,” Marinette protested with a bit of a blush on her face.

“Yeah,” Alix said as she joined them at their table. “It’s not like they have-” she reached into her bag and produced ”- a dozen Black Diamond LiveWire Quickdraws, a bag of powdered chalk, or a length of of Sterling 9.8 mil Evolution Velocity in their bags.”

“Alix,” Adrien said clearly perplexed, “Why do you have that?”

“I have my reasons,” she said with a shrug.

“Do you have your homework?” he asked.

She didn’t bother to say anything, just picked up her climbing gear and headed to her desk.

The rest of the girls proceeded to go through their bags and came up with: a candy bar, creamer, a handkerchief, a juice pouch, a pair of chop sticks, a plastic spoon from the new frozen yogurt place that had ladybugs and cat heads on the ends of their spoon handles, a couple of inhalers, migraine medicine (poor Sabrina), several reusable shopping bags, earbuds, frozen steaks (Alix, really?!), canned food, and-

“Rose is that a baby bunny in your bag?” Adrien asked in horror.

“No,” she replied.

“But it’s fluffy, soft, and has long ears sticking up,” he pointed out.

“It’s not a baby bunny,” she said pulling the ball of fluff from her tote, “It’s two baby bunnies!”

The little balls of fur hopped in separate directions and the class rushed over to get the opportunity to pet them.

“Rose, you shouldn’t be keeping live animals in your purse,” Alya said even as she snuggled the fluffy baby in her hands.

“I didn’t have anything else to carry them in,” Rose replied. “But it’s just temporary. My dad should be stopping by after he’s had time to get supplies at the pet store.” She gave the rabbit baby Chloe was holding a scritch as she added, “We’ve been wanting to get more rabbits for forever and when we saw these two in a box on the street, we knew we had to have them.”

“Well, they’re really sweet, but we should really start class,” Ms. Bustier said as she gave Alya’s bunny a final pet.

They all turned around to see Nino carefully arranging everything from his bag on his desk. There Was his iPod, his back up headphones, his back up- back up headphones, half a friendship bracelet with lengths of colorful thread, a first aid kit, battery operated radio, head lamp, whistle, several granola bars, a tiny clay turtle with a bobbing head, a length of rope shorter and lighter than what Alix had produced, several crumpled pages of sheet music, a mouth harp, a hackysack, and the final item being brought out of his bag was a half rotten potato.

“Where did I get a potato from?” Nino asked himself.

“Even more important is when did you get that potato?” Alya said.

“You cannot leave that thing on the desk,” Adrien said trying to repress a gag. “I’m pretty used to odd, strong smells, but that is a new low.”

“All in favor of Nino winning the weirdest thing in your purse challenge raise your hands,” Kim called to the class.

All of the hands shot up.

“Well, I congratulate you on winning the challenge, Nino, but if you would be so good as to use our trash can to take that former potato to the incinerator while everyone else packs up,” Ms. Bustier smiled at the class as the girls busied themselves in putting their things away, “I think we’ll all be ready to start class by the time you get back. Kim, Ivan would you two please open the windows?”

Nino, Kim, and Ivan hurried to do as their teacher asked.

“Sorry to hear about your missing scarf, Marinette,” Adrien said as he watched what had to be a magic trick with both of the girls putting more items back in their bags than logic said should be able to fit. “What did the scarf look like? Maybe I can help you search for it at lunch.”

“It was really cool,” Alya said. “It was a big rectangle of silk that showed all the different versions of Wonder Woman slowly morphing into this smiling lady with a bald head with like, just a little hair growing.”

Adrien suddenly brightened up though he sent Alya a quizzical look. “You mean like this?” He reached into his bag and pulled out the scarf in question.

“Yes!” Marinette was at Adrien’s side so quickly that it was quite possible she teleported to the spot.

She took the fabric and opened it up to inspect for mishaps. Finding it as perfect as when she’d finished it yesterday, she let out a squee of delight.

“Thank you, Adrien!” She wrapped him in a tight hug then kissed his cheek. “You’re my hero.”

Adrien blushed a lovely pink color while Marinette showed the rest of the class what all the fuss had been over.

While the class was distracted, Alya leaned over her desk and whispered in Adrien’s ear.

“Aren’t you glad I asked you to give that back to Marinette for me?”

Adrien couldn’t speak, but managed to nod his head.

“I told you,” she said with a grin, “it’s all in the bag!”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #the class is up for shenanagins #just having some fun #my writing #the prize winning purse

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acaseforpencils · 5 years

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Tips and Tricks: Watercolors Edition.

It always surprises me that more current cartoonists don’t use watercolors. I know that Will McPhail and Carolita Johnson use them, but watercolors haven’t really popped up much in the dozens upon dozens of interviews I’ve conducted over the past several years. Of course they show up more in interviews I’ve done with cover illustrators (Barry Blitt, John Cuneo, etc.), but I think a lot more cartoonists would find a whole world of opportunities in watercolor, if they were to experiment with them a bit. I’ve been painting a lot of watercolor pet portraits recently, and thinking of (and using!) some tips and tricks that I have found useful over the years, but that haven’t come up in any of the interviews that I’ve conducted on this blog, so I thought I would take the time to share them!

Here is some of my more recent work:

You can find more of my art on my Instagram, here.

-Watercolor has a similar look to ink wash, but is less permanent. You put down a layer of ink wash and you’re stuck with it. But if you use watercolor, you can take a wet rag and practically erase it! Plus, if you don’t feel confident doing linework with a brush, you can still use ink or a pen for that. Look at this landscape that I did a few years back. The shadowy sand was done by putting down opaque watercolor, letting it dry, and then scrubbing most of it away!

-If you have discovered the joys of lifting up watercolor mistakes, but have gone about it a bit over zealously, and caused your paper to pill up (but haven’t fully dug a hole through the fibers), I have discovered that the Cliceraser, a Japanese tool that Roz Chast recommended in her Case as an ink eraser, is your savior. If your paper is still wet, blast it with a hairdryer until it’s fully dry, and then gently sand off any errant paper fiber until it’s smooth enough to paint on again. Now, this would not work on printer paper (you shouldn’t be using watercolor on there anyways—I generally work on heavy cotton watercolor block), but this has helped me on more occasions than I care to admit. It is basically a grainy eraser. I haven’t tried using sandpaper, but I think the Cliceraser is more gentle, and would allow for more precision.

Image from Roz's Case

-Frank Cotham uses water-soluble crayons, which have a very unique look to them, but I’ve discovered that they can sometimes cause an unwanted glow in photographs. Say you spent ages painting a landscape, and thought it would be a great idea to use water-soluble crayons to paint the leaves. Everything looks uniform and tied together, but when you try to capture an image for your portfolio, you discover that your subtle fall foliage is garishly glaring. Devastation. Use water-soluble crayons with caution, especially when you're doing mixed media, and perhaps take photos of your work as you go along, to make sure that what you see through the camera matches what you see in front of you (or at least to ensure that you won’t be faced with any horrifying realizations at the last second).

-Speaking of water solubility, a very versatile tool that hasn’t been mentioned in any Case interview is one of my favorites, and one that I think would make a lot of cartoonists’ lives a lot easier: watercolor pencils. They blend really well with regular watercolor paint, and work great for detail work, for building up an area quickly, and for outlines (though I sometimes like to have graphite peeking through in a painting, using it for initial sketches can be helpful, especially when using light tones, because you can seamlessly blend your lines into your painting).

A lot of cartoonists will use gouache straight out of the tube for highlights, but that can require extreme precision, and sometimes, watercolor paper will eat up the paint! However, if you use a very sharp white watercolor pencil instead, the highlights won’t get absorbed. If you’re feeling fancy (or using grainy paper), you can trace over the watercolor pencil with white gouache.

Watercolor pencils can also be used for building up an area quickly. I find that if I’m using a thick cotton paper, it can be hard to get colors dark enough, so sometimes I’ll just lay down some watercolor pencil in whatever color is best suited for the task at hand, and then go over that with watercolor paint, which can lead to some interesting textures. I do that often with rocks.

-My rock painting leads me to my next tip, which is if you struggle with drawing something, that’s all the more reason to draw it. I used to struggle with painting rocks, so I sat down and said, “I’m going to paint a very rock-heavy painting,” (well, the painting itself is very light). Did I regret this decision greatly while painting all of those rocks? Yes! But I am now able to paint rocks fairly easily, so it ended up being worth the agony. This applies to many things in life besides watercolors, of course!

-Another tip (which also applies to the above rock painting) is to use the paint’s texture to your advantage. There are some really interesting paints with high levels of mineral separation, that can create beautiful grainy effects. You can do a light wash of a grainy paint over a flat wash of paint, and end up with a fascinating texture with minimal effort. This is an especially great technique for painting dirt.

-Try to use shadows effectively rather than accurately. With portraiture, as with cartooning, you are telling a story. Such as writers use various devices (metaphors, etc.) to tell their tales, we do the same thing with how we use tones. If I’m painting a dog, I want all of the information in the image to go towards showing the dog. Part of this can be using background tones. In my average pet painting, I’m not going to try to make a meticulously true to life shadow, but rather use shading to either convey space or make the dog stand out from the background. If I am painting a pet with light fur, I am generally going to paint a more expressive background in darker tones that contrast with their fur. If I’m painting a chocolate lab, I will do a light shadow to convey that they are occupying space of some sort, but that won't cause them to blend into a dark background. I always want to make sure that the darkest (or sometimes lightest, if everything else is rather dark) color on the page is on the part of the painting that I want you to see first. Cartoonists do the same thing, but in a way that leads the viewer’s eye to the joke.

-If buying a whole set of watercolors is cost-prohibitive, I recommend buying a cheap set, and then buying a nicer tube here or there as you are able. That’s what I did. A lot of high quality companies also offer smaller sized tubes, that are often significantly cheaper than the large sizes with scary prices. Coupons are also your best friend. I’ve used a coupon on almost every single tube of paint I have ever bought. Plus if you work mostly in black and white, you only need two tubes!

I hope this was helpful! I know people of many different levels of ability and knowledge read this blog, and it’s fun to be able to have artists share what they know, because the more we help others learn, the more wonderful art we get to enjoy! If anyone else has any tips or tricks, be sure to stick them in the comments! Also, if you’d like to follow my art, I have a fairly new-ish art Instagram here. Oh, and If you’d like to support the blog there is a Patreon and a Ko-Fi (essentially a PayPal account). And if you are hankering for some more art supplies on your social medias, consider following Case on Instagram and Twitter! Have a nice week!

#watercolor #illustration tips #art process #jane mattimoe #artists on tumblr #my art

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allatariel · 5 years

Text

Rain Check

Last updated July 31, 2005

A little girl no more than six years old sat on her heels in the cushioned bay window of a large, well appointed but comfortable family room. She was slumped forward, her elbow braced on the sill propping her head up as she stared glumly out the rain-streaked window at the sodden late summer grass she wished she were running over right now. She absently twirled the end of one long black braid with her free hand, the other trailing down her back past the waistband of her just-below-the-knee length pedal-pusher blue jeans, contrasting sharply with the stark white of her round-collared blouse. Her black eyes moved slowly from limb to limb of the trees she had planned on climbing today before the sky had opened up and quite literally rained on her parade. She sighed heavily and flopped around onto her stomach, burying her face in a pillow. She turned her head to look over the room when she heard the scratching of pencil on paper. Across the room at a desk that was far too large for her knelt a little white-blonde haired girl of about three and a half. She wore a sage green sundress and a very determined expression as her little fist moved the pencil over the paper she had before her.

“What’re you drawing, Cissy?” the black haired girl asked as she got up and walked over to where the younger girl sat.

“Pi’ture for Sev’rus, Bella,” Cissy told her without looking up as Bella came to a stop next to her and looked down at the picture she was drawing of two stick figures holding hands. “This’s me,” she pointed to the stick figure with a crooked triangle making the body and a big lopsided oval haloing the head and hanging down past the bottom of the triangle dress, “an’ tha’s Sev’rus,” and she turned her pale silver eyes up to look at her sister as she pointed to the other stick figure, the one with the short spiky lines coming out of the head at all angles. “I’ so he won’ forget ‘bout me when he’s not here.” She explained as she turned back to the drawing and began adding a sun and some other background scenery. Bella’s eyes focused on her little sister’s long platinum hair, raising her hand to brush over the neatly pulled back top portion and down the wavy free-flowing mass below.

“Every day Mum braids my hair up tight and Rod and Stan are always pulling on them…” Bella commented absently as she stared mesmerized at the loose strands between her fingers.

“Mum only braids it tightly so she won’t have to spend hours brushing it out at night, Bellatrix.” A third girl just over nine years old in a white blouse and red seersucker stripe skirt teased Bellatrix as she entered the room carrying a life-like infant doll in a basket hung on the crook of her arm. She came up behind the chair Cissy was perched on next to Bellatrix and tugged gently at one of her black braids saying, “And I’ve seen you whip around and whack Rodolphus and Rabastan in the face with them a few times.”

“Stop it or I’ll whack you too, Andromeda!” Bellatrix snapped glaring back over her shoulder and hunkering down ready to spin. Andromeda held her hands up in mock defense and smirked, her smoky gray eyes flashing.

“It was a joke, Sis! Anyhow, I just came to let you know Daddy’s on the fire from work and wants to say hello, Narcissa talked to him first and was supposed to tell you.” Andromeda informed her.

“Narcissa, why didn’t you tell me?” Bellatrix asked a bit exasperatedly as she poked her up to this point oblivious little sister hard in the side and ran off out of the room the way Andromeda had entered.

“Hey!” Narcissa shot up to stand on the chair as she shrieked at Bellatrix’s retreating back. Andromeda placed a soothing hand on Narcissa’s head as she leaned against the back of the chair, her single dark blonde braid falling over her shoulder.

“Shh Cissa, Bella’s just having a bad day stuck up in the house.” She calmed her and then came around the chair to reach up and pull a tin of crayons out of the hutch with one hand as she set the basket on the floor next to the desk with the other. She then placed the tin on the desk next to Narcissa’s drawing.

“She’s bein’ mean,” Narcissa replied rubbing the spot on her side Bellatrix had just poked as Andromeda sat next to her on the chair and pulled her onto her lap.

“Well, you did forget to tell her about Daddy, but she didn’t have to poke you so hard.” Andromeda said as she slid the picture forward on the desk and looked at it.

“S’for Sev’rus, Dromy,” Narcissa explained as she reached for a soft green crayon and started to color in the triangle dress.

“You really miss him don’t you?” Andromeda asked distractedly, taking in the smiles and clasped hands of the stick figures. “I wish I could miss Lucius like that…three years and we’ve never even met!” She sighed and hugged Narcissa who patted her sister’s hand where it rested on her tummy with her free hand and reached for another crayon with her other hand. Andromeda glanced down at the baby doll in the basket, “I guess he’s in France again, Lucius always sends another new doll when he’s visiting his grandparents. I hope he and his cousins are having a good time.” She watched her sister finish coloring the sun yellow and then reach for a dark green crayon. Narcissa turned to look Andromeda in the face and hold the crayon up to her.

“Dromy, help me write,” Narcissa asked expectantly.

“OK, what do you want to write?” She gently took the hand holding the crayon and guided it to the drawing above the stick figures.

“Narcissa loves Sev’rus for always,” She replied.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Andromeda smiled and wrapped her hand around Narcissa’s smaller hand holding the green crayon and moved it through the letters. After the last ‘s’ was in place, Narcissa proceeded to color the grass with the same crayon and Andromeda picked out the palest yellow in the tin and began coloring the stick figure Narcissa’s oval of hair.

“Let’s set up the game in the window seat, Stan” Bellatrix said to a dark haired boy about her age wearing blue jeans and a short sleeve green plaid button-up shirt as they entered the room and she pulled him by the hand towards the window seat. A few paces behind them another boy wearing blue jeans and the same shirt in red plaid, with the same dark hair and features as the first boy but about a year older walked in and stopped next to Andromeda and Narcissa.

“Hi, Andromeda,” He said with a dreamy look on his face.

“Hello, Roddy,” Andromeda replied with the edge of a long suffering sigh and continued coloring without looking up. Rodolphus grimaced momentarily at her use of the childish nickname but plowed ahead unfazed, quickly regaining his love-struck expression.

“You look lovely today,” He told her with cloying sweetness as he leaned on his elbow against the desk to angle an unavailingly charming glance at her. Andromeda looked up at him then, her expression of forbearing exasperation as equally wasted on him.

“I haven’t changed at all since yesterday, Roddy, but thank you,” She responded, trying to be considerate of his feelings yet not encourage him, and returned to her coloring.

Bellatrix looked up from across the room in the window seat with Rabastan where she was setting out the antique golden gobstones and rolled her eyes at her companion while jerking her thumb in the direction of their respective siblings. Rabastan snickered slightly and rolled his eyes back at her, then leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Should we save your sister from my brother?” he asked her conspiratorially.

“I was just about to…” Bellatrix trailed off quietly and then called across the room to her beleaguered sister, “Dromy!” Andromeda looked over at her sister beseechingly, Rodolphus still hovering at her opposite side. “I almost forgot, Mum wanted to see you in the kitchen,” she finished, smirking slightly as her sister sighed in relief then mouthed the words 'thank you' to her in reply.

Andromeda turned her head back to kiss Narcissa's temple and as she placed the pale yellow crayon back in the tin she whispered in Narcissa's ear, “I've got to get up now, Cissa, but I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?” Narcissa nodded in reply and stopped coloring as her sister shifted her from her lap to standing on the chair as Andromeda slid of the chair and stood up. Andromeda patted Narcissa on the head softly as she knelt to resume coloring.

“If you would excuse me, Roddy,” She addressed him evenly before moving past him and out of the room just faster than he could react.

#unfinished fic #old fic #my writing #my work #oh god this is old #the black sisters three #bellatrix black #narcissa black #severus snape #andromeda black #lucius malfoy #rabastan lestrange #rodolphus lestrange

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thesoundofaghost-mp3 · 5 years

Text

Bill and Ted trying out makeup for the first time!

At the mall, Bill and Ted are bored and go on a walk to see what stores they've never been in.

A coffee shop? Not interesting enough.

Blockbusters? Mmm. They're not in the mood.

"Ted! Look! What is that?"

"Whoa, dude. So colorful!"

They stand for a few in front of a shop with multiple big pictures of women with colorful and extravagant makeup.

Both look mesmerized. Eventually they turn and look at eachother, and airguitar before walking happily towards the new store.

As Bill enters first and Ted follows, they both let out a quiet "Whoa...."

As they walk through the store, looking at every little thing, people stare at them. All women, except a man with his wife are curious as to what they're doing in a cosmetics store.

They're too busy to notice until they stand in the same aisle next to eachother and turn to look around them.

"Dude... I don't think they want us here." Bill looks at Ted worriedly and then at everyone staring at them.

Ted nods and both start heading for the exit. They're stopped by a saleswoman.

"Hello, may I help you?" the woman smiles at them and Bill and Ted look at eachother and whisper

"Ted, maybe we should buy something so they don't think we're weird..."

"Yeah. You're right, maybe that's a good idea."

Both turn back to the saleswoman, still smiling at them and waiting for an answer.

"Uh.. yeah we'd like to buy um.. makeup."

Bill whispers to Ted discreetely.

"Trust me, Ted. Missy showed me some of her makeup, I'm an expert."

The saleswoman speaks up and they straighten up quickly.

"Sure, what exactly?"

Bill pauses for a second.

"Uhhh... the kind that's for the eyes."

Ted seems worried but still goes along.

"Yeah, the pencil for the eyes!" Ted winks at Bill.

The saleswoman seems confused as to what they mean but then remembers.

"Oh, you mean an eyeliner crayon?"

Both in unison Bill and Ted excitedly exclaim: "Yeah! That thing!"

Ted whispers to Bill once again: "Dude, your plan is working most bodaciously!"

Soon enough, they've both rounded up some blue and black eyeliner, a pink and a red lipstick, some blue, red, pink, and yellow eyeshadow, blush, some glitter, some mascara and some brushes.

Setting down everything they've taken on the cashout, the cashier starts beeping all of the items while they both stand smiling before her.

"Your total is of 69 dollars." The cashier smiles at them politely.

Bill and Ted look at eachother and laugh, before turning back to look at what is on the counter and realizing.

"Bogus!"

They haven't got enough. In fact, they barely have 5 dollars left because of all they've spent before.

- Back home, later that same day. -

"Oh man. It would have been fun to try out all of those colorful paints on our faces."

"You know it, Bill. I wanted to try that red stick for the lips badly."

"I wanted to try the line pencil for the eyes."

"Hey, doesn't Missy have makeup? I thought you said she showed you her stuff?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if we're allowed to use it."

"We can ask her, maybe she'll say yes?"

"Yeah, let's ask her!"

- With Missy, in Bill's room as she spreads out all her makeup on a table. -

"Here you go guys! Have fun, I need to go work now. And don't make too much of a mess!" She smiles and runs out of the room.

"Your stepmom has so much makeup, Bill!"

"I know! This is most excellent!"

Ted thinks for a second.

"That must be why she's so pretty, she uses makeup to make herself even prettier!"

"Shut up, Ted."

"Not that she isn't pretty without it, I'm sure she is, but she's so pretty now too!"

"Shut up, Ted! I know she's pretty!"

Ted laughs as Bill rolls his eyes.

"Let's try this out, you put the line pencil for the eyes on me, and I put the stick for the lips on you!"

Ted smiles and nods.

"You first! I want the red stick!"

Bill picks up the red lipstick and carefully holds it to Ted's lips. He does a good job for a first time, but it is a little smudged. Bill cleans up the extra lipstick with his thumb attentively and leans back on his chair.

He smiles as he admires his work.

"Excellent! You look most bodacious, Ted!"

Bill grins and Ted smiles back.

"Thank you Bill! My turn, now!"

"I want this on my eyes!" Bill points at the blue eyeliner on the table.

Ted picks it up and starts getting closer to Bill to make sure he does it right. Just a second before he touches Bill's eyelid, he stops.

"Uh... can I do this?"

Ted takes Bill's face in his hand.

"To make sure I don't hurt you and you don't move?"

Bill opens his eyes and smiles goofily.

"Yeah, sure!"

Ted smiles back and picks up the eyeliner crayon again. He starts slowly putting it near Bill's lashes. He tells Bill to open his eyes once he's done doing the upper lid. He starts applying it smoothly on Bill's waterline. He manages to get the eyeliner pretty even, but as he's about to finish with Bill's left eye, he accidently applies a little too much pressure.

"Ow! You poked my eye dude!"

"Bogus! Sorry Bill!"

Bill's left eye tears up a bit but he's alright a few seconds later. The eyeliner is waterproof. Excellent.

Ted looks at Bill.

"Whoa... You look most pretty dude..."

Bill smiles.

"So do you dude!"

They stare at eachother for a few seconds and air guitar.

Bonus:

Missy catches Bill with some red lipstick on his lips later that night. She had already taken all of her makeup back.

(They're in love alright, they won't admit it but they find eachother irresistible with that makeup on. )

#bill and ted #bill & ted #bill s preston #bill s preston esquire #ted logan #ted theodore logan #bill n ted #theodore logan #makeup #soft #fanfic #fanfiction

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