Work Text:
The noise of a pencil being dragged along a sheet of paper was one comforting to Gangle. She knew that, no matter what had happened that day, her sketchbook would always be awaiting her in her room, and the sight of the graphite upon the page could melt her worries away.
But recently, she had encountered a new form of comfort; Zooble. Gangle couldn't even fathom the fact that they weren't always friends, because the feeling that wafted through her ribbons when she talked to them caused a spark of joy within her, a familiar kind to her sketches, but not exactly the same. If her art made her feel like she was wrapped in a soft blanket, then being with Zooble made her feel like a fuzzy and warm kitten was laying upon her lap, the purring causing a soft vibration that made her think everything would be okay. Of course, Zooble themself was nothing like a kitten– They were bold, and assertive; They would always speak their mind and wouldn't care if they hurt any feelings along the way. Except for when they were around Gangle. When she was part of the equation, Zooble would be understanding, insightful, and protetctive. It felt kind of odd to Gangle sometimes, seeing a side of them that would only really be shown to her. and yet it filled her with warmth and strength.
She needed to do something for them. In return for all they had done for her. And so, as she finished off the sketch she had done of Zooble, she decided she’d like to be a bit more adventurous with her art. She decided, much like how Zooble gave color to her life with their kindness, Shed give color to this sketch with her paint.
She never usually painted, every time she did she would blend the colors too much, or her lines would be too shaky, and it'd become a bit of a mess. But the confidence she had gained from being around Zooble gave her determination. She stuck her brush into the paint, and smeared a big dollop of pink onto the canvas. Slowly, the page in which she had sketched on was filled with all sorts of colors–pinks, yellows, teals and oranges littered the paper, among other vibrant hues, all taking the shape of one familiar face. Could this be her best work? Gangle sure thought so. She smiled from nonexistent-ear-to-nonexistant-ear. Gangle ripped the page out of her sketchbook, and started her way over to Zooble’s room.
The walk was a bit far– she had made this painting on the opposite side of the circus, due to how a switch of location could help her work better. But she had navigated this place so many times, it felt like nothing at all. The whole way, she was just imagining what Zoobles' reaction would be. She hoped it would be positive, though she didn't have much reason to think it wouldn’t be. They liked her art, unlike Jax, who’d laugh and throw it away if he’d caught a glimpse of what she was working on. Once, he compared her skills to “something you’d find on DeviantArt”. That’d lead her to question how he knew what that site was, in which he ignored the question and walked away.
Lost in thought, she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings. I mean, why would she? She knew this place like the back of her ribbon-hand! She had failed to consider the puddle of water left behind by the portal in which they exited their previous adventure from (a water themed one, which she did not particularly enjoy in the slightest). The water combined with the already slick texture of her ribbon, and caused her to crash to the floor, ruining her comedy mask along with the painting. She groaned in pain, and slowly rose to her feet, clutching the soaked painting in despair.
“No…no no no….” She whimpered. If the wrinkly state of the paper wasn't bad enough, the paint had started to dissolve, melting into a messy array of smudges. She winced, all this hard work and effort she put in, and it ended up turning into something worse than her previous paintings. She couldn’t show this to Zooble, it was dreadful. It had to go with all her other failed art, the trashcan contained within her room.
She slogged to the hallway in which all the rooms were contained. She had been down this path so many times, and yet today, it had never felt longer. It seemed like it stretched for miles. Despite the fact that the steps she took were absolutely silent and soft, in her mind it was as if her ribbon legs were tied around 80 pound weights. Eventually, she reached her room, a cartoon rendition of her face staring back at her, a wide smile on its face, like it was laughing at her failure. As she reached for the knob, she heard a door slowly creak open. Though she already had her suspicions, she looked to see who it was.
“ Hey,” Zooble said, with their rough and yet sweet voice echoing through the hall.
Gangle froze, but was eventually able to mutter a soft, “Hi..”
“Whatcha got there?” They motioned toward the wrinkled paper. “New drawing?”
“Y…Yeah, it was actually meant for you.”
“Really? Well let me take a look-”
“It landed in some water though and got messed up, and to be honest it wasn’t that good in the first place and..” Gangle’s self deprecating mannerisms started flowing out of her as she tried to explain. But her spiel of worry was interrupted by the warmth of a hand placed upon her shoulder.
“Hey, a little bit of water doesn't devalue you as an artist, or a person, mkay? There's still value in it, no matter if it's a bit messed up.”
Gangle stared into Zooble’s eyes, filled with care and love. She slowly put her guard down, and handed the drawing to them.
“Woah.”
“Its kind of hard to decipher, sorry-”
“This is really sick. The way the colors mix, it forms this really cool blend of the cool and warm tones. I like the way it swirls. I can tell you put a lot of thought into the placement of everything, this radiates…passion. And care. Even if it's not technically perfection, it's still…perfect. It reminds me of you. Yes , it has gone through hardships, and it's not exactly what you thought it would be, but it still is filled with so much heart and soul. It is so undoubtedly human.” Zooble looked down at Gangle, smiling with their eyes. Gangle’s face was bright red.
“THANK YOU THAT WAS SUPER MEANINGFUL AND I AM SO GRATEFUL YOU ARE IN MY LIFE” She panicked, and shoved herself into her room. Zooble chuckled to themself, and re-entered their own room.
As they hung the painting up onto their wall, Gangle swiped away at another page with her pencil, a wide smile plating her tragedy mask, and filled with a new form of comfort, one stemming from both the comfort from art and from being around Zooble.
The comfort of love.