Chapter Text
Arty stared at her canvas, unblinking.
Zip had been bored for hours, constantly kicking the loose boards around the Color Underground’s painting studio. She asked him to be a model for her next painting, but for some reason she waved him away.
“Um…are you gonna paint something or…”
“Ugh, I can’t think of anything!”
Artsy slammed down her paintbrush in frustration. It’s been like this for weeks. Not a single ounce of inspiration for a new piece has graced her mind. Everything she has created recently always seems to fall flat.
“How in the world can I call myself an artist if I can’t paint a single picture,” Arty leaned against the back table behind her, putting her head in her hands. “I was a spring of fresh ideas and creativity when INKT occupied the planet, but now…I’m completely dry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Arty. Maybe you’re just…um…” Zip skated to her side. He put his hand on her shoulder, trying to search for the right thing to say. “Maybe you need a new…paintbrush?”
Arty didn’t move, or give any sign of a response.
Zip sighed. Although he has grown up from the naïve little kid he was when he was first recruited by the Color Underground, he still hadn’t mastered the art of consoling a fellow Raydian.
“Zip, I appreciate the um…sentiment, but my materials aren’t the problem. I mean, we’re the color underground. Art is our thing.” she motioned towards many paints, brushes, and mediums of artistry around the room. “I’m so grateful I have all of these mediums at my disposal, but they’re useless without a competent, well rounded artist.”
Arty fell into a slump.
“And I’m not that kind of artist right now.”
Zip jumped back. “What?! Arty, you’re an amazing artist! Don’t be so mean to yourself. I remember being so impressed with your first color underground mural!”
Arty fiddled with her paintbrush, sticking it into the pocket of her overalls. “Thank you, but It really wasn’t that great, Zip. I was just sorta…painting what I felt. That doesn’t really work for me anymore. I just…can’t seem to become inspired.” She grasped her paintbrush tightly. “I just don’t know how an artist can pull themselves out of a rut like this…”
“Why don’t you ask Blob?”
Arty shot up. “What?”
“Why don’t you ask Blob where he gets his inspiration from? I mean, he’s not the same type of artist as you are, but he does know pretty much everything about art. I mean, he can paint a mural in just a tap of a finger!”
Arty shoved her fists in her pockets. Ask Blob? Why? She hadn’t talked to him in months. He had decided to take some time away from the Color Underground with pinky by his side to decompress from the second INKT invasion. He had been under a ton of stress, and needed a vacation.
“Zip, he’s busy. He’s…he’s got so many things to do. I wouldn’t want to bother him with a tiny question.”
“But he’s on vacation.”
“He’s also the two-time art hero of our entire planet, Zip! I can’t just walk up to him and talk to him! He’s probably got a whole line of fans clamoring to see him. He’s…amazing, and I’m not.”
Zip sat on top of one of the art tables. “But…you’re a member of the Color Underground. He knows you. He’s been through two invasions with you. We’re all friends! He would probably be happy to see you.”
“No, Zip. No. I would just embarass myself.”
A wide, crooked smile spread across Zip’s face.
“Your crush on him is stopping you, isn’t it?”
“W-what?! Arty twirled around to Zip, catching her leg with a stomp. “I…don’t have a crush on him. That’s ridiculous. He’s a blob of paint.”
“When has that ever stopped you? The hug you gave him after he freed you from the zoo…”
“Oh…ugh…” Arty looked down to the ground, feeling her dark green hair creep around her face. Zip and Bif never let that one go, teasing her every once in a while for that moment. She cursed herself for that day. If her feelings it hadn’t been apparent before, that sealed the deal.
“It’s okay, Arty. I mean- it IS kinda funny, but you shouldn’t be afraid to say something to him. He could give you some good art tips.”
“Or laugh in my face…”
“Arty…ugh…” Zip whined.
•••
Arty pulled up her hair into a messy bun, cleaning herself up as they said their goodbyes and Zip left the studio. She began to vigorously wipe down the counters, despite them never being used that morning. She pursed her lips together in embarrassment remembering their conversation. She couldn’t really remember when her feelings for Blob came into fruition, nor does she know exactly what her attraction to him is. Part of her wants some kind of a relationship, to get closer to him and know him on a deeper level. Another part of her believes it’s best to cheer him on from afar, witnessing him as a passerby. Whatever it is, it certainly didn’t help her when asking for advice from him.
The midday sun blared in Arty’s face as she left the Color Underground studio. Other than her, not many of the original members had used the studio since the last INKT invasion. It had been about two years since then, so naturally the CU moved onto new operations as well as expanded their ventures, helping out those in need, sponsoring and helping local charities, and doing overall goodwill in Chroma and Prisma city. She even heard Prof speak of expanding elsewhere, as they had acquired hundreds of kind volunteers willing to help anywhere they could. It’s something Arty had always admired about her crew. No matter what, no matter when, they were there for the people.
“Arty,” a gentle voice called behind her. “I haven’t seen you here in quite some time. How are you?”
Arty quickly readjusted herself. It was the Prof. Although he was the manager of the CU, he had become almost like a father to her. He floated towards her in his saucer, an amusing contraption he built to get around quicker.
“Yes…uhm…Hello. How are you? It’s been a while. Haha…” Arty knew he could sense her nervousness. She wasn’t great at hiding her emotions. “I was um. Ahem. Making some art with Zip. Was it a wrong time…?” Arty’s shoulders tensed up.
“Absolutely not. You’re welcome here anytime, after all, being a founding member!” He gave a hearty laugh, soothing Arty’s nerves. “You out of all Raydians deserve to use our facilities to your leisure! Though, I haven’t seen any of your work lately. How is it going?”
“AWFUL!”
Arty put her head in her hands, retreating to a slump. “I can’t do anything right, Prof! I haven’t been able to make anything in…in…MONTHS!” She felt tears coming on. What was she doing?! This was so embarassing. How could she sit here and cry in from of him? He wasn’t her therapist. She’s probably making him incredibly uncomfortable.
“Arty…oh dear. Come here.” Prof pulled Arty into a soft hug. “I don’t feel ashamed. Everyone falls into an artistic slump every once in a while. Although I haven’t experienced the artistic life myself, I understand it as an outsider looking in all these years.”
“I’m so sorry I’m crying…” Arty said, sobbing. “It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know what to do…”
“Oh now, don’t be so hard on yourself, Arty. It’s okay to feel upset. Art is who you are, I can imagine being unable to create must be like losing a part of yourself,” He cleared his throat. “Have you tried seeking advice from fellow creatives? Perhaps that’ll put a spring in your step.” Prof patted Arty’s back. “Why not speak to Blob? He would probably love to share his thoughts with you.”
“No!” Arty yelled.
Prof floated back, surprised.
“I mean…I can’t. I’m…”
Arty clasped her hands together.
“I’m scared, Prof.”
A stillness filled the air. Arty’s cheeks grew a dark green as her words seemed to hover over her, about to crush her.
“Ah, I see. That’s okay, Arty.” Prof rested his hands on his saucer. “You must feel intimidated. He is a big name around here, after all.”
“You don’t have to remind me…” Arty hid behind her hair again.
“But he’s also your friend. A GOOD friend. He wouldn’t say or do anything to hurt you, no matter what. You and I know that.” Prof smiled, his mustache upturned at the corners. “Besides, he’s got a kinder soul than the boys. He can lend a listening ear whenever you need it.”
By the “boys,” he must mean Bif and Zip. It’s true. Although Blob was fun-loving and social, there was a softer, more introverted side to him that he didn’t usually show. A side that Arty was highly in tune with. It’s why he takes so much time away from others to be alone and to simply…relax. He is an artist after all.
“I…suppose…but…” Arty stammered. She felt like she was gonna cry again.
“Listen, if he says anything nasty to you—which he won’t—then he’s got a storm coming from your ol’ Prof!” Prof held her shoulders, winking through his monocle.
Arty laughed. Prof was wonderful. He always knew how to turn around a situation. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but considering two people were expecting her to talk to Blob, she felt a strong sense of responsibility wash over her…
•••
Arty loved Chroma city. The city rested between the shoreline and a national forest, making it an incredibly popular spot for tourists-along with it being the first invaded city by INKT. The city had since grown into a sort of capital for artists around the world, an opportunistic place for artists to thrive with their work. Arty had grown up here, so getting to see it blossom into an artistic city fit for someone like her was nothing short of breathtaking. Hopefully, after she can start painting again, she will feel more at home here.
Arty thought the best way to clear her mind was to head to the beach. The quietness and the waves would be a good change of pace. She headed down to the shore, admiring the colorful palm trees swaying in the breeze, no doubt painted by blob a few years back. She sighed seeing his work. It was a kind of performance art no one else could replicate. If she weren’t so fond of him, she would probably be jealous. She set out a small chair in a private area and sat down, closing her eyes. Maybe she just needed a good nap.
Arty awoke to a strange scent in the air. It was sweet, almost ambrosial. Half awake, she picked apart the scent. It was like the murals she had painted years ago, remembering how she happily sang as she danced around her canvas. It was the smell of music, a guitar dancing on the wind. A fresh, gentle scent that reminded her of soda falls. It almost smelled like Blue Ruin, one of her favorite sodas.
Arty almost fell back in her chair. She knew exactly what it was.
Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to identify where the smell was coming from. She violently gripped the handles of her chair. She secretly hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was. Her malleable heart was beating so loudly in her chest, it might as well have been right by her ears. She turned around to the forest of palm trees behind her. In the distance was a familiar trail of blue paint, evaporating into the sun leading into the colorful summer forest.
Arty gulped.
“Might as well,” she thought.
Arty picked up her chair, and reluctantly followed the paint trail into the forest.