#Beer with a Painter

[galleryofart]

The Fallen Star

Artist: Jan van Beers (Belgian, 1852–1927)

Date: 1874

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp, Belgium

[sai-aeko]

A poster advertisement for Kirin Beer

by Tada Hoku'u (多田北烏)

1939

[izumikawamacfly]

「メレ・カリキマカ」 暖炉のそばで奏でるウクレレのリ���ムとうらはらに 窓の外にしんと雪がつもる夜。 部屋にはクリスマスツリーとプレゼント一個。 猫がウクレレの音色にじっと耳を傾ける。 優しいメロディが部屋いっぱいに広がった。 「メレ・カリキマカ」と伝えるよ。 クリスマスなのにココに君がいないなんて妙だな。 雪が積もるこの街で、ウクレレを奏でてる僕みたい。 お前、クリスマスにそんなさびしそうな顔して 歌うんじゃない。と、猫に言われた気がした。 楽しいよ。でもきっと見透かされてる。 せっかく家族になれたのに はるかハワイの島くらい、遠くにいってしまったね。 プレゼントはヤシの木柄のマフラーだよ。 心配しないで、近所の子どもにあげるんだ。 「メレ・カリキマカ」と伝えるよ。 今夜は星が見えないけど、ワインが一本空きそうだ。

[theaskew]

NIcole Eisenman (American, born in France b. 1965), Biergarten at Night, 2007. Oil on canvas, 165.1 x 208.3 cm. | 65 x 82 in.

[pardefaut-julienfesil]

🌲

« Plein-air_05 »

" .Lab " [série ~ Peinture de vieux]

Huile sur papier/Oil on paper

Par ∫ Défaut

{2024}

•

' ... just garbage but fun to make. '

Démo de 25 min & photos in situ des apprenti.e.s de mes ateliers du Chevalet, à l'œuvre & affairé.e.s.

[En]

25 min demo & analog photographs, in situ, of the apprentices of my art studios « Le Chevalet sans tête », at work & busy.

! ✌️ ¡

[bottegapowerpoint]

Hans Makart, Clothilde Beer

[saintlucyrepresents]

Scott Slusher 805 Beer

Scott Slusher photographed artist David Bond for 805 Beer. Featured in the second volume of the brand’s Properly Chill magazine, Scott captured black and white images of the artist hand-painting motorcycle helmets with the 805 Beer logo, showcasing the brand's gritty yet down-to-earth identity. 

See more of Scott Slusher’s Lifestyle and Makers portfolios online.

[mbanotes]

Please subscribe

[stephenist]

The Lovers by Jan van Beers *1

[tomashache]

Almost done.

[humansofnewyork]

“Occasionally I’ll have a beer after work and break out the sketchbook. But I had wanted to be this great painter. I wanted to do these grand things: big, huge oil paintings. But those days of painting all the time were such a roller coaster. There were these periods of extreme depression, followed by manic states of trying to put myself out there. I couldn’t do it anymore. I mainly felt sorry for my dad. I know it was rough for him. My mom hadn’t wanted me to go to art school. She wanted me to do something more practical, but my dad said: ‘No. This is what he wants to do, and I want to support his dream.’ And then I abandoned it. That was the first time I had to deal with real failure. A lot of times when you’re an artist, it’s your job, it’s your lifestyle, it’s your entire fucking identity. It wasn’t like I failed to do a thing. It was like: I failed to be something, you know? It was a failure to live up to what I thought was my destiny. But then on the other side of that, there was this figuring out that there was nothing wrong with me the entire time. I didn’t need to be something else to have meaningful friendships, or a good relationship. I didn’t need to be something else to be loved and cared about. After work tonight I’m going to meet up with a person who’s in love with me, and I can’t wait. And that person met me long after I gave up on being a full-time artist. They met me when I wasn’t even a chef yet. I was a piss-poor, part-time line cook. But even then, they decided I was worth it. So you know, there’s something there. There’s something there that’s enough.”

[catoslvt]

Ben Hargreeves x Reader

I would've married you if you'd stuck around🐙

sorta s4 spoilers? but nobody takes the Marigold and lived their life.

plus I'm changing things because... yeah.

I walk into the birthday party for little Grace, who is one of Diego and Lila's children with her birthday present in my hand. It's just a silly child's keyboard because what the fuck do you get a six year old?

I make my way through the swarm of running and screaming children, the part of me that never grew up hurting because that's the childhood I always wished to have, yknow, running about, screaming my head off with all my friends but no, at the age of six I was learning how to disarm gunmen and learning how to control my powers.

God my life has gotten so much better without them.

Once I'm out the swarm of children, my eyes instantly fall on Sloane, Luther, and Ben, and I feel a slight shiver go down my spine at the sight of ben, I mean it's weird to think he has the face of the boy I used to love when we were like thirteen, but he's not the boy I love, I think anyway, I mean okay I sorta have feelings for this Ben, but I don't want him to think it's because he has the face of my old Ben, its confusing isn't it?

"y/n hi!" Sloane exclaims, waving me over with her hands, and I put on a wide smile as I make my way over to her, setting my present for Grace on the table beside her before she wraps me into a tight hug, which I return with an awkward laugh.

"I heard you're a firefighter now? that's sick." I say, turning to Luther with a smile and he just nods.

"we brought the Umbrella Academy, we're currently renovating it, I'd love for you to come stay some time." He tells me, and I widen my eyes, pretending to be interested as I make small 'oo' noises.

I hate when our family gather together, I mean Luther is married with a child, Diego is married with kids, I don't know what the fuck is going on with Allison, weve hardly spoken since we got to this time line and its not exactly that i dont want to talk to her, i just dont know what id say, Klaus doesn't need love, Five is technically married to a piece of plastic, Ben's just out of prison, Viktor has basically dated every girl in his town and I'm just.. there, I end up feeling extremely left out at the family gatherings when they start talking about issues with their kids or relationship problems because the only relationship problem was the fact Ben died on me.

"How was prison?" I ask ben, my eyes lighting up slightly as I turn to face him, all my attention now on him.

"I can't exactly say I enjoyed it." He tells me, raising a bottle of beer to his lips and taking a sip, and I just know his parole officer is gonna be pissed so I just let out a quiet laugh.

"So where are you staying then? I can't imagine your parole officer would let you live far." I then go onto ask, and he groans slightly, pointing at Luther and Sloane who are now talking to Diego.

"but I'm seriously debating robbing a bank just to get thrown back in." He then adds, looking around and I can't help but laugh a little louder.

"You're staying with them?" I scoff, turning to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"hardly by choice, I just needed a permanent address." He sighs, and I laugh again.

"Fresh out prison, and you're gonna be turned into a painter, electrician, plumber and babysitter. good luck." I tell him and he lets out a small chuckle before taking another drink from his beer.

"How have you been then?" Ben asks, and I shrug slightly.

"I mean, yeah, I've been.. living." I answer with a laugh, and he nods in agreement.

"Why don't we go get you a drink, we can sit at a table at the very back, and you can let it all out." He offers and I rapidly nod.

I sit at the table with Ben, taking a small sip from my beer before clearing my throat.

"I'm a child psychologist now." I tell him, and he nods slightly.

"I mean, it just felt right, yknow? I want to help kids so they don't end up with a childhood that we had. Well, I mean, without the powers, the robotic mom, the alien dad, you get what I mean." I tell him with a small wave of my hand, and he continues to nod, a small smile on his face.

"I get it." He tells me, and we both fall into a comfortable silence before he breaks it right as I take a mouthful of beer.

"don't you miss your powers?"

that question almost makes me spit my beer everywhere, my eyes widening as I stare at him.

"God, no, I don't miss them in this time line Nobody knows who I am, nobody takes a double take or gawks at me waiting to see my powers in use, I can be whatever I want to be in this timeline and I plan on using that to my hearts content." I tell him, and he just looks at me.

"You don't miss them? not even a little bit?" He asks, and I shake my head, which causes him to shrug slightly.

"I miss my powers, I feel.. ordinary without them." He tells me, and I furrow my eyebrows slightly.

"No offence, but I'm glad you don't have your powers. You died because of them in my original timeline, and it's good to see what my ben would've looked like grown up." I tell him, and he gives me a sad smile before we fall quiet yet again.

"and i think it's good to feel ordinary, I spent my whole childhood wanting to be normal to fit in, and now I do." I then add, and he scoffs.

"There's nothing ordinary about us y/n. Apart from the Umbrella Academy and the Sparrow Academy, nobody in the world has gone through even a fraction of what we have, and you've technically went through more than me because the Umbrellas ended the world in 2019, just to then go and do it again back in the 60s, to come back for it to end in 2019 again.." Ben says, and I just scoff, but I can't help but laugh and nod.

"and both times was technically Viktors fault." I argue, and we both smile before Five appears from under a slide somewhere and nods, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"it was Viktors fault both times. Actually, she's not making that up." He tells ben as he makes his way over to our table, dragging a chair along behind him, and ben just raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly pissed off our conversation had been distributed by Five, who still looks like a kid.

"Well, isn't this just a sad table of losers who feel out of place at their nieces birthday party with all the married couples and kids." Five says as he sits his beer down on our table with a large clink.

"I don't feel out of place, I could easily find someone I could marry and have kids with. you couldn't because you look like you're 18." I argue, and five leans back in his seat and crosses his arms slightly, mouthing ben so subtly so that ben can't see.

"Wait, y/n, did you ever even move on after your ben died?" My other Ben asks, and I look at him, my eyes wide as I try to muster an answer.

I try to muster up and answer, but none suitable come to my mind because the truth is I didn't even try to move on, I felt like there was no point, my whole childhood my heart was set on the fact that I'd be marrying Ben, I wanted to at the time despite how young we were and the fact we didn't fully understand the whole concept of marrige and he said he wanted to aswell. when he died I just blamed myself, I thought it was my fault he had died and I convinced myself everyone I love will die because of me, as a sort of reminder that my powers were a curse. obviously, that fact was proven false because my powers are gone. but even now, I'm still cautious to open myself back up to love, but when I'm with this ben, I feel myself slowly opening up again.

"I tried, but nobody stuck around." I lie, and Five shoots me a knowing glare, and Ben just nods, yet another comfortable silence falling over us as I take a large drink from my beer, staring down at my hands before Five starts a conversation with Ben and I can't help but sigh a sigh of relief.

somehow, Luther and Sloane have convinced me to come to theirs to stay the night.

"I think it'll have beneficial effects on releasing your childhood trauma y/n." Luther tells me as I sit in the back of his car, ben at the other side as sloane sits in the front and stares out the window.

"I'm the child psychologist Luther. You just stick to putting out fires." I state, crossing my arms slightly as I stare out the car window, watching the world go by the single frame of glass, trying to hide my smile as I hear Ben laugh at my comment.

"Do you ever sit and look at people and just laugh to yourself because you've saved their asses from the end of the world three times now?" I ask to Luther mainly due to the fact the Sparrow Academy have only had to save the world once, which ended up in all but two of them dying and he just shrugs as he continues to drive.

"Imagine how Viktor feels, knowing he almost killed them twice." Ben says, and that causes me to laugh, slapping a hand over my mouth as I try to stop it.

"That's nasty! the first time wasn't fully his fault. He just discovered his powers and didn't know how to stop them." I tell him, leaning over to gently slap his arm, but I'm still laughing.

"Plus, it's also semi Luther fault for locking him in this weird, safe thing." I add, and Luther groans, muttering something under his breath, leaving me to smile proudly.

"Let's just sit in silence till we get home." Luther suggests, and nobody says a single word to protest and I guess it would be sorta rude if I did seeing as I'm staying at his house tonight.

I sit in my old room, looking around at how empty it is because the Umbrella Academy doesn't exist in this timeline, meaning this room is just a room where I just so happened to share all of my good childhood memories, or atleast the handful I can call good.

"Why would you actually agree to come back here?" Ben asks with a laugh as he stands at the doorframe, staring down at me with questioning eyes.

"I think it's actually partly to do with what Luther said, I think it's good for myself to come see the place and realise that everything that happened back in my time line is just memories now, I dont know I guess I'm trying to give myself some closure." I answer with a shrug as ben walks further into the room, now sitting beside me on the bed.

"What were we like? in your timeline anyway?" ben asks, and I feel my heart stop for a second as I look at him for a brief moment.

"Really young but you -" I cut myself off. Is it wrong to address this ben as my Ben? because it is the same person, but it's not at the same time.

"we understood each other, he- *you* were one of the only people at the Umbrella Academy who showed me love despite our age. if we were doing paired work, we'd always be together, at meals we'd always pass notes, during training we always went easy on each other, during missions we always had a close eye on each other, we'd always spend time in my room. yeah, we were really young, but we still loved each other." I tell him, and he just looks at me, a sad smile on his face.

"we were convinced we were gonna get married, and in all honesty, I would've married you if you stuck around." I then add, looking away as I get an unbearable feeling of sadness.

"I would've married you if you came to the Sparrow Academy timeline earlier." Ben tells me, and I almost choke on my spit as I look at him, my eyes wide.

"What?" I ask, shaking my head slightly.

"I felt myself changing slightly the minute I looked at you when our academies met, but I was too.." He trails off trying to find the words.

"stuck up? full of yourself?" I begin listing and he rolls his eyes but he smiles slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I was too stuck up to actually allow myself to change for you, and also, I was too scared because I know im nothing like your ben so I didn't want to cause a disappointment as though you lost him again." Ben admits, and I just stare at him.

"Ben, you are my ben." I state, my eyes not leaving his face, not even when his eyes light up slightly, not even when he turns to look at me.

"I didn't want to tell you in case you thought I'm just using you because of what happened with Umbrella Ben, but I promise you that is not the case. You are my ben." I then add, and I see his eyes softening as a small smile appears on the edge of his lips.

"so it's safe to say we like each other then?" He asks after a moment of us just staring at each other.

"I guess so." I jokingly groan, but I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, just savouring the feeling of ben in my arms, my ben as one of his arms wrap around my waist, the other one coming up to reach into my hair, pressing the back of my head closer into him.

"I can't believe you went to prison, you asshole! I was gonna tell you I had feelings for you once we all settled into the new timeline, and then you went to prison."I scoff, and he pulls away from the embrace slightly and looks at me.

"You could've always written a letter or something." He tells me, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I would've been better using a carrier pigeon. No chance was I gonna have a prison pen pal." I scoff, rolling my eyes, but I did write, and then I wrote again, and again, and guess what? I wrote again.

"I did write to you, over and over again, I just never had the courage to send them, because imagine you got one of the letters, wrote back but it didn't send to me?" I ask, a shiver going down my spine at the thought of never knowing if he felt the same way.

"Well, I would've rewrote the same letter every day and sent it to you until you got it." Ben says, a slight hint of promise in his words, and with that, I press a kiss to his lips, and he instantly returns it, his hand on my waist tightening, gently pushing my head closer to his as he depends the kiss and we continue in our kissing embrace got a few moments, before we hear a:

"When I said coming here would help to release your childhood trauma, I didn't mean by doing.. this." Luther says, and I just pull away laughing.

[pardefaut-julienfesil]

🍾 • « Bodegones_02 » " .Lab " [série ~ Peinture de vieux] Huile sur papier / Oil on paper 2024 •

« Meester snijt die keye ras. » •

• ! 👉 ¡ • • • *démos pour apprenti.e.s

[problemchildnumber69]

Andrew and Kevin religiously watch Jeopardy every night that they can and it without fail ends with Kevin being unreasonably bitchy about losing to Andrew who answers almost every single question correctly.

And when Andrew gets one wrong it is strategic in the sense that he is looking for the ones where wrong answers will set Kevin off the most.

Ex:

Alex Trebeck: Who was an Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect?

Andrew, completely monotone, beer can lifted to his mouth: Leonardo DiCaprio *burps*

Kevin, so intensely and immediately enraged that he can't do more than blink: WHAT

[creepypasta65]

The Creepypasta's Halloween Costumes 2024 Edition

Images are NOT MINE!!

Slenderman: Jack Skellington

Masky/Tim: Firefighter

Hoodie/Brian: Construction Worker

Toby: Tinky Winky

X-virus/Cody: Laa-Laa

Kate: Shadow the Hedgehog

Clockwork: Mangle

Jane: Scarah Screams

Nina: Cherry Hatsume Miku

Liu: Minecraft Villager

Jeff: Gerrard Way

EJ: Ryuk

Sally: Mimikyu

Ben: Alvin

Lost Silver: Simon

Glitchy Red: Theodore

Laughing Jack: Scary creature

Laughing Jill: Edward Scissorhands

Jason the Toymaker: Whatever this is

Bloody Painter/Helen: Ninja

Puppeteer: Cactus

Kageko: Beer

Judge Angels: Hello Kitty

Smile Dog: Bell from Beauty and the Beast

Have a nice day/night :)

Be safe!!

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 14

A long-awaited confrontation brings back unwanted reminders of the past…

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | TW: Stalking | WC: 4.0k

beta reader: @silcoitus

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

For as long as you can remember, the Undercity has been covered from top to bottom in graffiti, oozing and dripping bright colors everywhere. The strong, artificially fresh smells of paint and aerosols are just as prevalent as the smoke and fog, weaving their way through the Lanes, heavy and thick enough to grab with your fist.

Most painters take it upon themselves to learn some form of martial arts; it’s a useful skill to have if they want to encroach on someone else’s territory. After all, most artists aren’t going to give up good real estate without a fight. You’ve gotten into scuffles before in your youth, protecting your art from being vandalized by an older boy who backed off only when you bit deep into his wrist, drawing crimson blood richer than any artificially created color.

You don’t miss that aspect of your childhood at all.

One alternative is to climb or crawl somewhere remote and difficult to reach. The challenge in these instances is to successfully navigate Zaun’s crumbling infrastructure without falling to your death. Cracked ledges, shabby roofs, dislodged pipes, and shoddy scaffolding could all fall to pieces with the lightest of touches.

After securing a good spot, you can’t even dedicate your full attention to whatever you’re working on. After all, your back is exposed and you still have to stand guard over your supplies. Your fellow Zaunites are nothing if not bold enough to try stealing your property from right under your nose.

You purposefully ignore all your hard-won wisdom as you stroll leisurely into a dead-end alleyway, whistling loudly as you drop your bag of painting supplies with a loud thud. You kick an empty beer bottle out of the way, and it clatters noisily against the ground. The crumbling brick wall is dusty but sturdy, the stone rough and bumpy under your fingertips as you sweep your hand across it. You pull out your sketchbook and flip through it dramatically. The crisp snapping of the pages echoes loudly through the air.

Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to stop being so obvious. To drop everything and run away as fast as you can.

But you can’t. Because you’re not going to be the victim tonight.

Tonight, you’re the bait.

It takes every ounce of your willpower to stay rooted in the alleyway. Every second that drags on is torture, the longest ten minutes of your life where electric panic fries every nerve in your spine. As if being stuck in a dead end with only one exit wasn’t bad enough, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a stinging, unbearable pain stabs at your temples. Your skin prickles as if it were desperate to escape as well.

You lean over your bag and pull out a spray paint can with trembling hands. Gripping it tightly for dear life.

Your heartbeat is thumping so loud in your ears that you almost miss it:

A quiet, low shuffling, at the other end of the alley.

You force yourself to keep looking forward. To not turn towards them even as hesitant footsteps approach you.

They’re slow, at first.

Picking up speed, growing louder and louder as they rush towards you.

Something sharp and pointy glints brightly out of the corner of your eye—

High-pitched yelling breaks out on your left. It’s much more juvenile sounding than you anticipated, but it sounds just like the children at the orphanage when they’re playing during recess, if their playtime involved ripping each other’s hair out by the fistful. Something metallic clatters to the ground, and you finally turn to look at them properly.

Silco has a little girl pinned down, his knee on her back as he ties her wrists with rope. Her feet flail wildly in the air, kicking up clouds of dirt. He manhandles her roughly before picking her up with ease as if she weighed nothing. She’s reminiscent of a stray cat as she swears at Silco, hissing and writhing furiously to no avail. An old but highly polished knife lies on the ground underneath her feet.

Cold fury burns in Silco’s eyes as he mutters to her, his teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed at the girl as he strides towards you. His words are too low for you to hear, but she responds with a vitriolic string of curses that he doesn’t flinch at. He drops her unceremoniously at your feet.

“OWW!!” the girl yells as her chin collides with the hard ground.

You frown at Silco. “What happened to not hurting them?”

“It’s no less than they deserve,” he says dismissively.

You sigh but bite your tongue, not wanting to argue with him in front of a stranger. Cautiously, you lower yourself inch by inch into a crouch, scooting closer to the child as you set your paint can down.

She scrambles to sit upright, glaring at you.

Silco’s shoulders stiffen as he steps closer, hovering behind her ominously. He makes a point to pick up the fallen knife and tuck it into his own belt, resting his hand on the hilt. Ready to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice.

But he doesn’t try to keep you away from her. Just like you made him promise earlier.

“Hi there,” you say gently. “What’s your name?”

She spits angrily at your feet.

Silco raises a booted foot, ready to kick her over. You raise a placating hand, scrutinizing the kid.

It’s always hard to tell with Sumpsnipes, but she looks barely older than Vi, just approaching the cusp of teenagerhood. She’s lean but not emaciated, with a halo of soft, curly gray hair above emerald-green eyes. Her blazing, angry eyes are smudged with dirt, but not dark circles of sleeplessness or stress. When you glance at her clothes, they don’t have any holes, patches, or loose stitches. In fact, they look clean and fresh, maybe even brand new.

You furrow your brow, thinking hard. Whoever this kid is, she’s living better than the average gutter rat.

Slowly, you settle on your knees and reach for your bag. Her eyes track your hands as you pull out a tin lunchbox and a flask.

“Have you eaten today?” you ask. You unscrew the flask and hold it out to her.

She doesn’t answer, but her eyes widen with surprise. Then she turns from you forcefully even as her stomach rumbles loudly.

“It’s not poisoned,” you promise her. You take a sip first, making sure that she’s watching. 

When you hold the canteen out to her again, she inches forward warily, licking her lips. She opens her mouth wide, and you carefully tilt your flask, making sure not to pour too much water too fast. You ignore Silco as he folds his arms in disapproval.

The girl smacks her lips as you put your half-empty canteen back in your bag. Her eyes dart to your lunchbox as you open it to pull out a sandwich wrapped with paper. You peel the wrapping off carefully, revealing an overstuffed sandwich with grainy bread slices, large lettuce leaves, juicy tomato discs, a deep yellow square of cheese, and peppered cuts of dark pink meat.

“We’re going to untie you so you can eat this,” you say calmly. You grab your lunchbox and close it with your free hand, placing it in front of the girl to act as a makeshift plate. Carefully, you place the food on the container, as if you were a waiter presenting a gourmet dessert. “You can leave after you’re done, but I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

Her eyes flick down to the food, then back up at you, studying your face carefully. She nods just once, still stoic and ornery.

You nod at Silco. He frowns, displeased, but still leans down to untie the child. The girl snatches the sandwich as soon as her wrists are freed. She snarfs it down messily, crumbs flying everywhere as she chews with an open mouth.

“If I had known your pursuer was a wild Poro, I would have brought proper wrangling equipment,” Silco snorts.

“Slow down, or you’ll choke,” you warn the girl.

She glares at you, but then starts hacking and coughing. You quickly grab your flask again and open it, holding it out to her.

“Slow sips,” you instruct her.

She swipes the canteen from you. She closes her eyes as she glugs, a trickle of water spilling over her chin. You sit patiently as she returns her attention to the sandwich. The girl starts chewing much more carefully this time. When you offer her a napkin, she takes it without reservation. Her eyes are no longer hostile, but curious now, wide with wonder as she wipes her mouth.

You tell her your name and hold out your hand. She doesn’t take it, but hands the canteen back to you.

“What’s your name?” you ask again as you put the flask away.

“…Leksy,” she grunts out.

“Hi, Leksy,” you say as warmly as you can, trying to stay calm. The months of resentment for your stalker are slowly dissolving, replaced by a nagging inquisitiveness. The stalker’s youth goes a long way towards making you less scared of her. Besides, she reminds you too much of every other unruly kid you’ve taken care of at the orphanage. More often than not, they just need a safe place and a helping hand.

This kid might just be another one of those orphans. 

“Do you have parents?” you ask.

Leksy nods before licking her fingers clean.

“Where are they?”

“Dad’s at work,” the little girl says. She crumples up the napkin and tosses it over her shoulder. It misses Silco’s leg by inches.  

“Is it just the two of you?”

“No. Mom’s at home.”  

“Why don’t we walk you home? You’ll be safer with us,” you offer. You don’t have to look at Silco to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“I can’t,” she says curtly.

“Why not?”

She glances away again, eyes downcast with shame. “I’ll get in trouble.”

You glance at Silco, worried. His expression is impassive as he stares down his nose at her.

“Is there someone at home hurting you?” you ask quietly.

Leksy shakes her head vigorously, her hair bouncing everywhere.

“What’s wrong, then?”

The girl looks down, mumbling, “Mom said to leave you alone.”

Confused, you look up at Silco, wondering if he heard Leksy’s answer. He raises an eyebrow, sharing in your bewilderment.

You ask her, “Did she tell you to take pictures of me?”

“No.” Leksy’s eyes bore into a small rock on the ground.

“Who’s your mom?”

“She’s actually my stepmom,” Leksy clarifies, still avoiding your gaze.

“What’s her name?” you ask patiently.

“…Nyle,” the girl finally mutters.

You sit there, stunned into silence as your heart seizes. Your hands clench into fists involuntarily. Anger seeps through your veins as the memories of everything Nyle did to you come rushing back.

Some of your fury must be leaking into your face as Leksy scoots away from you, eyes wide, looking truly afraid for the first time that night. Silco says your name in worry as he steps around the girl to reach out for you.

“I’m okay,” you say automatically, flat and mechanical. You ignore Silco’s hand and get to your feet unsteadily, almost stumbling to the ground again. Still seeing red when you turn around and close your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

Unreasonable as it is, a part of you still feels guilty for letting Nyle down. Guilty for being inadequate and incompetent. Guilty for not living up to her expectations. And regret for things turning out the way they did. Regret that you lost her because you still miss her so much. All coiling together with a desire for revenge, to hurt her as badly as she hurt you. Twisted up against a strange happiness for her, happy that she found new people to love who seemingly love her back. Only to crash against a fury that she found happiness at all. That she had the audacity to move on and leave you behind.

Silco’s voice calls out your name again, echoing faintly as if he were far away. But his hand lands on your shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

You jerk your head as if you could physically dislodge your feelings from your body.

“I’m okay,” you say again, letting out a deep breath. It’s a smaller lie this time, as you feel better just looking at the man standing next to you. His brow is pinched with concern.

You might not have Nyle anymore, but you have Silco now.

And you know which companion is superior.

You take Silco’s other hand and squeeze it reassuringly before turning to Leksy. “What did she tell you about me?”

“She said you work for Pilties. You must be rich, right?” Leksy asks, her fear forgotten as her eyes shine with eagerness.

So there it is: the real reason why this little girl has been stalking you. The same thing that tore you and Nyle apart is what brought Leksy into your life. You hold back a snort at the irony.

“Your dad works, right? Doesn’t he have money?” you counter Leksy’s question with your own.

“We need more money,” she says, agitated. “Mom can’t work anymore. She got hurt.”

“What happened?”

“She fucked up her wrist.”

As if the maelstrom of emotions in your stomach wasn’t overwhelming enough, that part of you that still cares for Nyle is now worried about her. If her injury is severe enough to affect her livelihood, then she’s suffering in more ways than one. But another part of you crows with delight at her getting what she deserves.

Silco turns to tower menacingly over the little girl, uncaring of how she leans away from him. “So you’re a cutpurse looking to make up for your mother’s lost income. You should have chosen better.”

The girl glares back at him in defiance. You can’t help but admire her spirit.

“Did Nyle ask you to do this?” you ask, heart breaking a little at your own question, a shallow but piercing stab into your sternum. Even if Nyle had told Leksy to leave you alone, you still need clarification on her part in all this, to find out if she has something more insidious planned for you.

And, of all things, hope takes root in your chest, a creeping tendril worming its way through your ribs to your heart. Hope born from the optimistic—or more likely, naïve and misguided—part of you that still clutches onto the fragments of your shattered friendship with Nyle. A nostalgia for memories of better times that weren’t ruined beyond repair. The belief that one day, the two of you might be able to pick up where you left off.

“No,” Leksy answers. “She grounded me when she found out.”

A revelation. You wonder if Nyle is trying to prevent Leksy from making the same mistake that she did, feeling entitled to money that isn’t hers. Maybe your former friend is trying to repent in her own way.

As you mull over Leksy’s words, Silco glowers at her.

“And yet, here you are,” he snarls. “Too greedy to understand that you should have kept your hands to yourself.”

“I’m hungry!” shouts Leksy. “We need money!”

She flinches again when Silco reaches for the rope. He grabs one end and whips it forcefully against the ground, a harsh slap on stone.

“Run home, little Sumpsnipe,” he rasps through bared teeth, a low whisper of violence like a promise made to keep a secret. “And tell your mother—”

Silco cuts himself off when you gently but firmly take hold of his wrist. Reminding him silently of his promise that he’d let you take care of this. He tears his gaze away from the girl to lock onto you, his boiling rage still simmering as you look at him with determination.

You crouch down again next to Leksy. Her eyes are wary as she scoots away, afraid you might lash out at her, too.

She flinches as you raise your hand.

But you bring it down slowly, patting her tenderly on the head. Her hair is soft and bouncy, and you fight off the temptation to poke your finger through the corkscrew curls and play with them.

Whatever Nyle’s faults are, it’s clear she cares for Leksy very much. And your former friend seems to be a great parent, if she’s inspired Leksy to take such drastic measures. When you remember how Nyle let herself go hungry to feed you, it’s easy to imagine her doing the same for this little girl.

And you knew what you needed to do for Leksy as soon as you first laid eyes on her.

It doesn’t matter who her parents are.

“I get it,” you say softly. “You just want some food, right? Maybe feed your mom and dad, too?”

Leksy nods energetically. “When Mom got hurt, her boss let her take a break… but her wrist got worse and she got fired…”

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassure her. You turn around and kneel next to your bag, pulling out your leather coin purse. Silco grinds his teeth, imploding with disapproval as you place it on the ground in front of the kid.

“That’s for you. If you take the elevators up to Lower Piltover, go to Janna’s Embrace. You and your parents can get food there,” you tell Leksy. “And… tell your mom… that she can eat as much as she wants.”

The Sumpsnipe’s eyes narrow with suspicion. She swipes the money and turns away from you. Her eyes widen with relief, not greed, when she opens the purse, the gold reflecting brightly in her eyes.

You topple backwards as Leksy throws herself forcefully at you, her small hands clinging around your neck in a tight hug. Your butt collides painfully with the hard ground, but the child’s muffled thanks warms your heart.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to walk you home?” you ask.

She nods excitedly. The joy on her face turns to spite when she turns to Silco. Quick as a flash, she kicks him in the shin and yanks her knife out of his belt when he doubles over, swearing.

As his knees collide with the ground, Leksy dashes away, yelling over her shoulder. “Your girlfriend deserves better!!”

You quickly get to your feet, reaching out to take Silco’s shoulders even as you try your best not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he spits out through gritted teeth, rubbing his shin with one hand. He takes your wrist gently to stop you from rummaging in your bag for your first-aid kit. “I should ask the same of you.”

“I’m—” you start, but panic surges in your chest.

If Nyle is going with her family to the Embrace, that means you might see her there. And you’re not sure if you’re ready to face her.

But at least you don’t have to face her alone.

When Silco stands to his fullest height, you hug him, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately wrap around you as your eyes well with tears. So overwhelmed that you crumple into him for support, the full force of your emotions battering you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out.”

You shake your head, wiping your tears on his vest as a giddy laugh rises out of you like bubbles in a fizzy drink. So exhilarated at finally being able to put this whole ordeal behind you. It’s almost funny that such a small child gave you such a hard time for so long. 

But now, a weight has fallen off your shoulders. You feel so light you wouldn’t be surprised if you started floating off the ground. All of it is too much to contain as you keep giggling. 

Concerned, Silco lets go of you to hold your face in his hands.  

“Silco… thank you,” you say breathlessly before he can speak. When he cups your cheek, you lean into his hand, taking deep breaths to settle your nerves. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You’re not just talking about needing his help with wrangling the little girl. His companionship and support helped you put an end to this once and for all. Seeing him stand up fearlessly to Piltover’s countless injustices inspires you every day; if he can fight back against a colossus, then surely you can confront one individual.

His love for Zaun is so similar to your own. It reminds you of the most important thing of all:

That nobody in the Undercity deserves to go hungry.

“That was all you, my lovely,” he murmurs. Silco’s eyes dart between yours as he studies your face. “You were too kind to the child. She needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Leksy’s just a kid,” you say, frowning.

“All our enemies were children once. The only way to defeat them is to stop at nothing,” he says grimly. But his arms fall to your sides, holding you tenderly in a loose embrace.

“She’s not my enemy,” you say with a chuckle. “You’re just mad that she’s faster than you.”

“…Perhaps,” he admits reluctantly. “But I will never forgive her for what she put you through.”

“She’s just a hungry little girl. There are hundreds of them like her down here,” you point out. “Hell, I used to be one, too. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have done the same in her shoes?”

“Of course not—”

“Really? Even if we didn’t know each other?” You pull back from him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Pretend that the only thing you know about me is that I’m rich. What about then?”

“No riches in the world could compare to the joy of having you by my side,” he answers without dropping a beat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m great,” you laugh at the smoothness of his delivery. “But that’s not an answer.”

He sighs and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tight. Not out of concern, this time, but to comfort you. The musk of his cologne and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils as you plant a kiss underneath his collarbone.

“You may be right,” he grumbles. “What about the mother?”

“What about her?”

“Is she your enemy?” he asks quietly.

“I—I don’t know… I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive her…” you admit. There’s too much to untangle, and you’re not quite ready to start. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Not at all. You have every right to keep her at arm’s length,” Silco answers immediately. “Your offer of charity is more than she deserves.”

“It was the right thing to do,” you murmur. You nuzzle into him, his heartbeat a soothing metronome in your ear.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers proudly.

Your heart stutters at his words and you can’t help but blush. Still, you bite your lip, fisting his shirt as your frustration rises to the surface again.

“So… I’m ‘your girl’, now?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

Silco stiffens, his arms tensing around you. He pulls away slowly, stepping backwards to look at you. His expression is stoic, but a tiny notch between his eyebrows betrays his hurt. You rub your arms as you keenly feel the loss of his embrace.

“Am I wrong to hope you feel the same way?” he asks in a low, flat voice.

“No!” you answer immediately. “But…”

It hurts you to hear Silco speak with that tone. You’ve always tried your best to be a safe space for him to express himself, to listen with empathy and compassion whenever he told you about his fears and insecurities. Not to mention the countless times you’ve patched him up, whether it’s wrapping his bloody knuckles or holding ice to his bruises.

But you’ve never been the one to hurt his feelings before.

And you almost hate yourself for it.

You take another deep breath, forcing yourself to slow down and choose your words carefully. “Silco… I can never thank you enough for all your help today, and these past few months… but…

“We need to talk.” 

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Chapter 15