Work Text:
Summers located on the outskirts of Dialtown were always particularly beautiful. Mountain ranges to the west, pastures to the east, and a large lake that often acted as the central piece to the wooded area. A perfect location with the perfect weather conditions for a newly burgeoning artist… and her feral girlfriend.
Propped up and facing away from the scenic view stood an easel and canvas. A short printerheaded woman stood before it, contemplating its contents. Strokes of blue subtly transitioned into greens and the beginning formation of trees could be spotted across the canvas. Karen, our artist, began to reach for her brush. Her hand caught air and then the bowl of brown water below it. She pulled back quickly, her fingers having accidentally dipped into the muddied-looking liquid. Her body reacted reflexively, giving an unpleasant shiver as she shook her hands willing the gross sensation to go away.
“I- Gingi?” she sputtered, half annoyed at the situation. “Where’s my brush?”
Karen turned around to see the green humanoid looking towards the sky, then the ground, and then their hands. While she usually appreciated not being directly stared at she could feel this was very different.
“Gingi. Where’s the paint brush?” she said, her voice turning increasingly more stern.
Crunch
“Gingi! That’s the third one this week!”
Typegingi pouted, swallowing the rest of the horse hair and whittled wood concoction.
“It was satisfyingly crunchy! And you know how people used to chew wood to keep their teeth clean. See clean!” they said, opening the mouth located beneath their typewriter head wide. Showing the many in fact not clean teeth located within.
“Karen rubbed her printerhead and placed a hand on her hip.
“Firstly, that wood is not at all the same type of wood that they used to clean their teeth back then. Secondly, they did not eat it after chewing it and thirdly… when have you ever cared for your own dental hygiene?!”
“Since I started being able to kiss you” they retorted.
The woman flushed, rubbing her arm with what would be a soft smile before coughing and standing upright.
“No. No. I’m not gonna let you ‘swoon’ me out of this again.” she huffed, beginning to walk over to her cryptid girlfriend.
For the past hour, Typegingi had been sat cross legged on the ground a few feet away from Karen and her painting. Surprisingly well behaved, if one doesn't count the few dead birds scattered across the ground from Gingi’s rock (and then bird) tossing shenanigans. The human woman stood over the other looking down in a display of stern disappointment. Eventually she deflated as Typegingi grabbed her hand in a remarkably gentle way.
“You’re lucky I love you, you know that?” she said jokingly.
“Haha that’s kinda gay,” Gingi quipped. “Also. No worries. See!”
The six nippled creature quickly pulled her hand away and reached behind their back within a few moments pulling a new paintbrush from behind them.
“Oh! Thank you! I’m surprised you had one just lying around on your person….” she stopped. “Wait, where were you keeping this?”
“Flesh pocket.”
Karen swiftly decided to drop the questioning, enjoying blissful ignorance.
Giving her girlfriend a short kiss on their head she turned to resume her painting. She stood and stared at the canvas… and stared… and stared. One minute turning into two and two into five. The paintbrush in her hand tapped against her at an ever increasing speed. Before she fully knew it she was curling her arms towards her body giving a little rapid shake of her head and torso, eyes shut tight, and grip hard around the paintbrush. After a few seconds her body relaxed again and she immediately felt a mild relief from the frustration that has been building up in her body. The relief was temporary.
Karen turned to Gingi reluctantly, hoping that her gremlin lover didn’t notice her lapse in composure. Still cross legged in the grass she saw Gingi mimicking the actions she just took, though in a much more exaggerated way. At least she hoped. Stilling themself, Gingi made brief eye contact with the woman expressing a smile towards her. Karen responded despondently, her body subconsciously closing in on itself. Gingi tilted their head both confused and concerned by their partner’s reaction.
“I- it’s a bit cold isn’t it?” Karen said, fiddling with her hands. “I got a bit cold and it caused me to shiver. You know, as people do when they get… cold.”
“Weren’t you just complaining about the under boob sweat that had accumulated over the last few hours of being out here a minute ago?”
“You heard that?!- I mean….” she sighed. “Sometimes when I get frustrated or overwhelmed I can’t help but… stim. Do you know what that is?”
Gingi shook their head.
“It’s like a form of self stimulation-”
“Oh I know a thing or two about self stimulation-” Gingi began playfully.
“No. Nope. I’m stopping you right there. That is not the type of stimulation I mean.” Karen groaned, rubbing the front of her printerhead in mild frustration. “It’s sort of like how when someone is really happy they might jump up and down in excitement or if someone is really restless might tap their foot to focus better or to calm themself down. It helps to… regulate all the strong emotions.”
A moment of silence fell upon them as Gingi took the time to digest everything that the other told them. Eventually, they perked up, jumping to their feet.
“Wait, I do that too!” Gingi said, their tail wagging quickly behind them. They attempted to grab the tail and gesture to it, succeeding the third time. “See, I’m doing it right now!”
“I don’t know if I’d count that as-”
“What about all the times I’ve run around the apartment in excitement when you’ve brought me new types of cough syrup to try. Oh, oh, or when I play with your hand every time we watch our favorite shows together or hop on the nearest tallest object when I see Little Billy or when I spray the police because I get so annoyed-”
“Gingi- Gingi! Slow down!” Karen laughed with a fond voice. “Okay, I’m not sure if all of those counted but I see your point.”
Karen placed her hands on each side of Gingi’s typewriterhead, calming the cryptid as much as she reasonably could.
“Honestly I thought you were teasing me when you decided to copy my stimming-” she said quietly.
The dots began to connect for Typegingi. They placed their own moist hands on top of their girlfriend’s, rubbing comforting circles into her hands.
“Karamel, do you think I’d ever be one to make fun of you?” they spoke. “I mean, look at me. You accepted me for all my weird, grotesque, and down right sodden parts. I’d be a hypocrite to not accept and appreciate these parts of you and all of the you that makes you... well… you!”
Gingi continued bringing Karen's hands down to interlock them with their own.
“Not to mention that I get it! You shouldn’t feel forced to have to keep all your emotions and expressions inside. Just like you’re artwork, the world should know the real you… At the very least, I want to know the real you. Please, don’t feel like you ever have to hide who you are from me.” Gingi finished, their voice progressly getting softer and having that rare but not unheard of sense of seriousness.
Karen took a deep breath, beautifully overwhelmed by the love and acceptance that they felt from their partner. A feeling that was becoming common yet still surprising all the same. Leaning forward Karen pressed her printer to Gingi’s keys allowing them stayin that moment for a while. Both simply taking in each others’ presence and the forest ambience around them. A full minute passed before they parted, eyes briefly meeting before turning and looking at the landscape before them.
“Thank you, Gingi, you really do continue to flip my world upside down,” Karen said. “In all the best ways possible.”
Karen picked up the paintbrush that had been lost to the ground at some point during their exchange.
“Paint with me?” she asked, ushering towards Gingi.
Gingi’s tail wagged, nodding furiously, as they placed their hand on top of Karen’s.
The two worked in tandem, Gingi’s hand controlling the broader motions as Karen’s worked out the finer details and stroke work. The two laugh together. At some point. Karen became so filled with joy that she found herself vigorously flapping her hands, splattering paint from the brush onto both of them.
“Oh god… I’m so sorry-”
Gingi poked their finger into one of the dollops of paint and streaked it across Karen’s printer with a playful laugh. Karen, soon forgetting her reservations, exacted revenge on her girlfriend with a handprint of yellow paint on the other’s chest. It’s hard to say if what happened from there on out counted as a painting session or paintball fight but by then neither couldn’t care less. Both purely lost in the moment of creation together.
By the time the sun was beginning to set the painting was finished. A canvas thoroughly splashed in reds and oranges among its more traditionally forested colors. Trees with bushes of cotton candy and a lake scattered with violet child-like fishes. It wasn’t good by any stretch of the art critics’ imagination but it was theirs. It was their chaotic, colorful, and most of all beautiful mess.