"God—ow!"

Lynn was very good at taking pain; at least a handful of the Loud kids could attest to that, citing times where they saw Lynn go through something that would leave others writhing on the floor in pain, while she would just get up, dust herself off, and go on her merry way. Hell, Lori could vividly remember seeing an eight-year-old Lynn miraculously slip teeth first onto the kitchen counter— subsequently cracking a tooth— and... nothing. She went on to have a bowl of cereal for breakfast before going outside to play with the new soccer ball she got for her birthday. All this Lynn knew, and she prided herself for it

So why was it so hard for her to move a single god-damned wrist?

She hopped off her bed and headed down the stairs, planning to retrieve her cap from the banister. Unfortunately, she barely got to raise her hand when her wrist shot a healthy dose of searing white pain into her wrist. "Shit," she mut— did she just swear? After 16 years of life, this was a very sad first— could've been because she got her arm ripped off by a bear, or maybe falling from a three-story building, but it had to be her wrist.

'Terrific way to start off the weekend.' Lynn moped as she put on the battered and dirtied cap with her painless arm, wondering what she was going to do now that her usual after-school practices were off the table. She glanced at the living room: Lucy, Lincoln, Luan, and Lisa were on the couch, all of them watching a movie with what Lynn presumed to be a farmer and some kind of trenchcoat-wearing officer sharing a glass of milk. Lynn thought of joining in, seeing that there was ample space for her to squeeze in, but she could already feel boredom pinging around her skull just by a simple glance, so hard pass. That left only the backyard and the kitchen; fortunately, she didn't really need to choose where to go, as she felt her stomach cry out— not that she could really do anything outside.

It wasn't that hard for her to choose what to eat— a few moments separated her opening of the fridge and her eyes landing upon a mint-condition meatball sub. Granted, it was one of those microwaveables she bought from Flip's just a week ago. Lynn didn't care too much about the quality of the sub; all she needed was something to fill her stomach with. Carefully removing a sub from the packaging, she slowly popped it into the oven toaster, leaving her to investigate her wrist: everything seemed normal except for the swelling, discoloration, and the unending waves of pain that seemed to be getting calmer with each second yet stronger with every other. All of this because she couldn't be a better sport. Because she had to be impatient. Because she wasn't a good—.

Her gaze shifted from her aching wrist to the direction of clacking boots— shoes that sounded like a certain musician's boots. "Cheers, luv," Luna said in her discount British accent, "How's your wrist been treatin' you?" Lynn glanced back at it, turning it over a couple of times with mild discomfort. "Like a bat to the head," Lynn monotoned, "If the bat also had live wires wrapped around it." She looked at Luna with a dry smirk, "So pretty good, if I do say so myself.". "Look on the bright side," Luna started, heading towards the fridge, "You've got an entire weekend ahead of you." Lynn rolled her eyes to the point where she could feel them fully rotating towards the back of her skull. "Sure, an entire two days with my good hand out of commission." Lynn flinched as her wrist accidentally made contact with the countertop. "I can barely do anything normal without this bitch of a wrist feeling like it's on fire." Lynn leaned against the counter, head downcast. "There are always hobbies," Luna said, fishing out a pack of root beer.

"Like what?"

Luna pondered for a moment before her eyes lit up. "I've still got some paint and a brush from last week's art class." She suggested, closing the fridge door with her sole. Lynn looked at her sister, her face going from mild bewilderment to a flat deadpan. "You want me to—." "Trust me," Luna said in a reassuring tone, "You'll enjoy it.".

Now Lynn wasn't the best artist in the world— most people would agree with that— but she wasn't sloppy by any means when it came to the brush. Ms. Holly, her teacher from a couple of grades back, had actually commended her for the few "plates" she did make. Hell, maybe this wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be. Even if it ended up looking like dogshit, painting could take her mind off things that she didn't feel too comfortable addressing right now.

"Sure," Lynn said, her monotone now painted over with mild enthusiasm, "I'll try it out.". "Alright," Luna said, downing her first bottle. "Meet me outside after lunch," Luna bade her farewell and headed out the kitchen, leaving Lynn to her thoughts and newfound... it wasn't excitement. 'Maybe excitement?' Lynn patted her stomach. Before she could contemplate further, the oven toaster rang, giving her a mild heart attack.

"Where did you get all of this?" Lynn gestured towards the wooden table: it seemed foldable, and on it seemed to be an entire stockpile of brushes and watercolors, as well as a butterfly palette and a small bottle of water, with a 9x12 placed neatly in the center, with a couple of rocks placed on the corners... how sweet. "That's something for me to know," Luna placed her hand on Lynn's shoulder, "And something for you to enjoy." she headed back inside, stopping only to turn around to give Lynn a thumbs up before shutting the door.

Lynn gazed at the setup with mild curiosity before taking her seat on the plastic lawn chair Luna had dragged from the front lawn, going a great length to make sure her bruised wrist didn't get irritated. Of course, whatever she did couldn't stop the endless buzz of pain, droning on like a bee in a garden. Lynn sat back, letting the pain act as the background to her thoughts.

She envisioned a landscape. Giant redwoods were littered throughout the scenery, their true height masked by the limitations of the paper. On the ground, there would be small shrubs that, holding berries of differing colors; there would also be animals, some scurrying, others basking, and some even giving chase. She also saw a small channel stretching throughout the bottom of the panel in a straight line, its presence not taking up too much attention. She could see someone canoeing in it, reveling in the methodical ambiance of nature, letting themselves get lost in it. And the sky— the cloudless deep purple she saw in her head— would have stars that littered it, with the moon nowhere in sight.

She'd keep thinking for a couple more minutes.

She eventually arose from her contemplative state, letting her eyes take in the familiar surroundings once again. It took her a minute to finally prep herself for the world of discomfort her wrist would give serve up. But as she began painting, everything around the world began to fade away: the pain, the lawn, the chaotic antics of her family members— it all faded away, leaving only her and the tools on the table.

Luna leaned her guitar on its respective side of the closet, sighing as she closed it. She had been practicing for...

She turned her head towards the clock mounted beside the bunk bed. 'five-twenty,'.

...around four hours. All that time, yet she was barely halfway done learning these new songs she wanted to learn. Maybe some time away would let her mind freshen up.

As she descended, her mind thought of what pieces she'd play next. 'Maybe something from King G would be interesting.' She had just grabbed another pack of root beer from the fridge when she decided to take a look outside the window. "Huh," was all she could say.

Lynn reminded her of a jazz musician performing a solo: in their own zone, with nothing but their art and instruments to keep them company. Lynn's movements were full of energy, yet each stroke seemed carefully calculated and controlled. Intrigued, Luna decided to take a look at her artwork. Seeing as how she'd been there for a while, Luna wanted to see what she'd come up with.

Lynn didn't seem to notice her approach— that, or she didn't care ('Probs,'). Luna glanced over her shoulder to take a look, and...

'Whoa. Linc's got competition.'

Lincoln had prowess over drawing people, yes, so much so that he could probably recreate a family photo in a day and almost no one would notice that it was drawn. But Lynn, on the other hand...

Good god.

And yes, while some of it was sloppy ('My god, are those stars or flying lemons?' to name one of her critiques) it was impressive coming from someone who usually only showed finesse when she was dunking a basketball or wrestling someone to the ground.

"Whoa, luv," Lynn momentarily raised her head before returning to her work. "How's the wrist been treating you?" if Luna had been looking at her from any other side, she would have noticed her eyes move toward the offending part, a surprised look on her face. "I... can't recall, really," she tried twisting it around, resulting in a flinch, "but apparently it's still there." she dipped her brush on the red paint and went to work on one of the bushes.

It looked so easy when she did it, almost like how you'd see Bob Ross do it. In less than a minute she had already finished laying details out on the shrub and, with that, her artwork. She slowly rose from the chair, stretching.

"Mom said she'd be late again," Luna told her, "but dad's gonna make it." Lynn grunted in response. "I'm guessing we'll have to set the table again?" Luna nodded. "Aight," she looked down at the table, focusing mostly on her creation.

'Huh. Did I really make that?'

She turned towards Luna. "I'll clean up later." "No worries, I got this," and before Lynn could respond, Luna added, "I've already put the plates and glasses, so just worry about the utensils." Lynn felt a smile form on her face. "Thanks." "Don't mention it," Luna reassured, "you'd probably do the same if I was in your situation." to which Lynn responded with a silent nod.

While placing the utensils, Lynn couldn't help but think about the afternoon and just how good it felt painting. If she was being honest with herself, doing that felt better than playing sports: she always found herself having fun with soccer and basketball, but it always felt— 'What was that word?' Lynn paused, 'Boring? Nah, not really. Mind-numbing? Far from it, actually. Tiring?' Lynn turned it around in her head, once, twice, thrice. "Yeah, that's apt." she said, promptly resuming her actions.

Yes, she still enjoyed playing sports: if it were possible, she'd spend an entire day— and I do mean an entire day —playing soccer with her friends.

Nowadays, though, she'd feel every second passing her by, whether it was playing a game of softball or a round of mucho libre. Besides, after what happened, she clearly wasn't someone who was cut ou—

'Something else, Lynn.' she shook her head.

But that afternoon, holy—.

It was like she was painting one minute and heading inside to set the table in the other. It felt like that first time she ever tried playing a sport, what with all the enthusiasm and inward jubilation,

And she needed more.

Eventually Lynn Sr. did return, along with two buckets of chicken and a large bag of Chinese takeout. The family ate, talked about eachother's day, had squabbles— you know, the usual Loud dinner. Lynn, being in the state she was, asked for some assistance, with Lucy duly helping her out. Everyone had their fill, and one by one people started excusing themselves, leaving Lynn, Luna, And Lynn Sr. to clean up. As Lynn wiped the table, Sr., hoping to strike up a conversation, approached her, gathering the last batch of plates into a basin. "Hey sport," he said in his normal cheerful demeanor, "How's your wrist treating you?" "Fine, I guess." Lynn shrugged, "Should be okay next week.". "Seems like it, Van Gogh," Luna joined in, "Certainly didn't notice it when you were out painting, huh?". Lynn couldn't see it, but she could see her father's head swiveling towards her.

"You drew something?!" "Yeah—" "Where is it?" and in less than thirty seconds they both were both outside, admiring the drying artwork, with the basin still on the table.

'Huh,' she didn't expect that kind of surprised tone.

Of course, her dad loved it and they shared that "father being proud of their child" moment, with Luna smiling all the way course, the Loud kids, wondering why their father was going into a fanboyish craze again, decided to see what was going on. Of course, they all complemented Lynn, commenting on the beauty of the piece, and Lynn, being the humble girl she became, thanked them in return.

Eventually they all returned to their activities, leaving a proud Lynn and his flattered, albeit mildly embarrassed, daughter.

"Alright dad," Lynn said through a chuckle, "I think I'm gonna hit the hay" he looked at his watch. "Already? It's still early." "Yeah. I'm beat." and Lynn, in a show of affection that she rarely gave out, hugged her dad using her good arm, with Sr. reciprocating moments later. "Night, sweetie." "Night, dad." and with that, Lynn grabbed her cap and headed upstairs.

As she settled in, Lynn thought of what piece she'd make tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.

She slept just before she could count up to a month.

Hope you enjoy.