#daaaaaaave

[clinging-to-the-bars]

[josiebelladonna]

the artist | chapter two - part one

I still recall the thick of the pandemic almost down to the detail. There came several points in which I had to switch off the TV and I had to log out to take time to myself. I sought out the power of music to help out and go hand in hand with my art. I would spend hours a day bunked up in my room while my parents worked from home: I had nothing more than my drawing pad, both physical and digital, and the music in my ears.

All the music I sought out touched my soul in some way. It was all I could resort to when the days lacked any miasma of hope. Hearing their voices and all that lovely music was enough to keep my spirits alive. I wanted to remain positive and that there was in fact a light at the end of that tunnel. I even played around with my neck gaiter and accompanied with things like paper flowers and my hats. I wanted to have fun, even with everything closed; thus to meet up with Chris and Joey not only felt like a dream come true to me, but it also fulfilled something I had yearned for during that lonesome time.

It was especially lonely when I felt like I couldn't speak to people on Twitter: the lack of any true genuine conversation left me feeling out in the cold. I wanted to talk to someone about Nirvana and all I got were these random memes about “Teen Spirit.” So many complainers, too much politics, too much fear, and not enough comfort.

I actually met Dave from Nirvana two days after I met Joey there in the park. It happened in one fell swoop I had his as well as Chris' numbers in my address book and whenever I found a moment over those next two days, I texted to and fro with Chris and Joey. The former always greeted me in the morning with a sweet text. Short and sweet and just enough to beckon a smile from my face.

I told Joey I was an artist and he seemed rather elated when I told him I wanted to draw him.

“I wanna see it when it's done!” he told me, to which he followed up with a little blue heart. He sent me a little blue heart to sort of mirror my purple heart towards him.

Chris meanwhile, texted me every day. I knew he only lived about ten minutes from me up the road: he told me he lived in the neighborhood right outside of the Queen Anne borough of Seattle.

“I can look right out my window and see Mount Rainier right outside of my window,” he said. “You ever see Mount Rainier at sunrise following a rainstorm?”

“A couple of times,” I confessed; I recalled one morning during the worst part of the pandemic wherein it had rained the night before, and I peered out the window at the mother mountain herself, and those cold rain clouds surrounded her summit, and the rising sun filtered through to paint the glaciers a rich, beautiful orange creamsicle color. But he sent me a photo from his window where he stood right next to Rainier and made it look as though he dwarfed it: he stooped down and held the palm of his hand down towards the summit, of which the sunrise had painted a bright beautiful pink and all different shades of yellow. I chuckled at the picture and I had thought of sharing it with my mom, but I decided to keep it for myself, especially when he sent me a picture of himself making it look as though he made Rainier his chair—complete with bent knees and everything! as he put it.

Meanwhile, I scoured the Internet for a good picture of Joey. No matter where I went, and no matter how many times I typed in Joey Belladonna, it gave me nothing more than something with himself as well as Scott, Danny, Frankie, and Charlie. At one point, I lay down on my bed flat on my back and gazed up at the ceiling and tried to picture him from memory. Long jet black curls sprawled down over his shoulders: real handsome face with maybe a tiny little kiss of sun upon his otherwise olive skin.

I reached for my sketchbook to begin with something simple. A skinny little boy with thick strong looking thighs and hips a little on the round side. I stopped myself as I thought of drawing something a little more than him in my sketchbook, a little drawing of myself putting my arms around his slim waist. Slim and—kind of beautiful. He was slender and yet quite shapely: his shoulders were trim and lovely, and accentuated by those black curls.

I had to put down my pencil next to my sketchbook so I could run my fingers through my dark hair.

What a beautiful boy.

Granted, Chris was beautiful to me but there was something hypnotic about Joey. Something that reminded me of like the guy next door. The cute boy next door.

I lifted my head from my pillow and peered out the window. Still some daylight out there.

“Might as well take a walk before the sun goes down,” I muttered to myself. I threw on a purple sweater and my boots, and ran my fingers through my hair. My mom was working late that night anyway: my dad had gone out for something somewhere there in Tacoma, and thus I was left to my own devices for the time being. I had no money with me so it wasn't like I could easily buy myself a glass of lemonade like I did with Joey the other day.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets; on the right side, I could feel the smooth glassy exterior of my phone. I thought of taking a full three sixty shot of the coast, if and when I ever went to the coast again. The whole panoramic view in complete detail: so real it makes you feel as though you're actually there with me.

I came to the corner, right across the street from the service station and I recognized that long streaky blond hair underneath a faded blue ball cap standing there next to the dumpster with a rolled joint in hand. It couldn't be: I crossed the moist pavement and made it look as though I was just walking past him. But then he turned and my eyes locked onto his as well as the cherry at the end of the joint. I recognized that narrow, slender face and those prominent front teeth.

I didn't even realize where I was going.

I ran right into the door right as it swung open.

“Oh, shit!” he declared. I staggered back and rubbed my nose. Lucky for me, I didn't break anything but it still caught me off guard. He lunged for me to ensure I was alright. The guy who walked out of the back door there gaped at me as though I had lost my mind.

“Are you alright?” Dave asked me; the foul odor of the weed burned my nose and made my eyes water a bit, but it had nothing on what I was feeling right then with his face before me. I fluttered my eyelashes and grinned at him.

“I think so?”

He showed me a smirk, complete with those big pearly teeth up front. I felt my phone vibrating in my sweater pocket. Chris was texting me. Or maybe it was Joey. I had no idea at that point and at the same time, Dave wanted my attention. I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought with something as trivial as my phone.

[reineleaf]

123! for that ask meme

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? 

Nope! something always happens to em jclskdjh

[cuddlewars]

Hn where's Daaaaaveeeeeee

[celeryaneffigy]

NOOOOOO MY FAVOURITE COORDINATOR IS LEAVING THE COMPANY

[zenkichiihasegawa]

Why can’t David Rossi be my motivational speaker.

I want David Rossi as my motivational speaker.

[megkr]

that update made me sad because Dave

[purrling]

okay if the homestuck fandom is CALM ENOUGH 

does anyone want to roleplay