Hi there, are the ship asks still open? I'm an artist and editor, shy with new people, but word vomit about anything with my friends. Overly conscious about everything I do, and I love bad puns. And the group is the Ipliers. Thank you, hope you have a lovely day!! 🌙 (she/her)
Immediately the first person that came to mind was Author. I have H/C's that say whatever he writes comes to life. And what better way to make his writing really come to life than with an artist. He loves your skills and your 'word vomit', it makes him happy when you tell him one of your many stories. He's an Author after all, and you are his inspiration.
Now, I don't know what kind of art you do or the medium you use, so I'll try to leave it broad for ya;
Small brush strokes stared back at you, mocking you. You were at a hump on this piece, you didn't know where to go or how to finish it. It was a simple piece, featuring a black-haired woman with deep brown eyes. She was elegant and fierce in her pose, daring someone to interrupt her focus. Yet, you did not know how you were to complete her, or the background for that matter.
So, you did the only thing you could think of. You went to see Author. Whom was in the kitchen, writing away in his journal. His quill moved quickly over the page, but it came to a stop when you came into his view. Upon seeing your expression, he returned a soft frown, "What's wrong, muffin?"
Your nose scrunched at the nickname, but this wasn't the time to bicker about it. Something you had done many times before, yet it only made him call you 'muffin' more. He had mentioned once before that he calls you his muffin because he 'loves to eat muffins for breakfast'.
"I'm stuck on a piece that I'm doing, I have no idea how to complete it. The background's not even done." you sighed, taking a seat at the table. Author seemed to ponder this thought as he got up and went to make himself a cup of coffee.
"Have you asked?" Author finally answered you with a question. His light brown eyes staring into his cup before taking a sip.
"Who am I gonna ask, Author? The girl in my picture?" You scoffed at his silly question.
"Yes," Author said simply, smiling innocently at you. "Just go ask her and see what happens! Maybe it'll inspire you to finish the piece... I like to ask my characters questions about the story their in, it makes it easier to write them."
"Yeah, yeah..." you muttered, getting up from the kitchen once you realized Author was not going to be of help to you.
Staring at the picture was going to drive you insane, you swore it. The colors just weren't blending properly and neither were the textures. Everything looked bland and smudged together, there was no depth, no contrast. Until finally, "Fine! You win! Tell me, girl! Tell me what your favorite colors are."
You waited and waited for something to come to you, but nothing happened. So you tossed down your supplies and crossed your arms. Only for movement to catch your attention.
Movement from the girl in the picture.
"Golds, I would have to say. Maybe some whites? I like deep purple colors too."
You gasped, standing up so fast that you knocked your chair over. Maybe you had gone insane, you rubbed your eyes and even pinched yourself. And still the girl was staring at you, instead of looking off to the side like she had been since you first started creating her.
"I'm going mental..." you trailed off, though you weren't so sure why you were surprised. You had seen a lot of crazy things since the beginning of your relationship with Author. It was probably due to the fact that his stories came to life, but you were... Human, mundane, you had no special abilities. Everything you knew, you worked hard for. Hours poured over art books and learning different methods of bringing your art to life in many ways, but never like this.
"What? You asked a question, didn't you?" the girl spoke again. This time, you picked your chair up and sat back down feeling as though you might fall down.
"Author! Come here!" you shouted and turned your attention back to the girl. Unbeknownst to you, Author was in the hallway watching the whole ordeal. A few sentences written with a magic quill really went a long way.
Grabbing a pen and paper, you began to ask the girl more questions. What she liked? Was she real? Did she have any qualms about the way she had been created? Does she have a name?
"I like birds, rainy weather, you know, the normal. I really like the sky. I almost wish I had wings."
"I am as real as you'll make me, you're my creator. The visionary master, you have to make me seem real."
"I love how you created me. I have curves in all the right places, I love my curly hair and the shape of my face. You've done a wonderful job so far."
"You'll name me, won't you? I don't want to be nameless, if that's what you're asking."
"Right, what is it?" Author questioned as he stepped into your art room.
"She's talking to me." you whispered as you turned to face him from your chair. You pointed at the girl, but when you turned back around, she was back in her pose. Her normal one, looking off in the distance somewhere.
"You're finally getting it. All you have to do is ask yourself the right questions." Author smiled at you, his quill still in hand.
Your eyes went straight to the upright feather, "Did-? Did you do that?"
"Do what?" Author winked at you and promptly walked out of the room, "Get back to work, muffin."
Newly inspired, you picked up where you left off. You couldn't help but smile as you continued splashing color over the girl. Giving her big angel wings so she could fly like the birds she liked so much. With the background in mind, you created a sky for her to fly in. Specifically a purple, orange, and gold sunset to contrast her skin. She truly came to life then, and if you paid just enough attention you could see her lips tilt into a small smile. She was happy and so were you.
It really was the little things that made you fall for him all over again.
