#I actually sketched this out forever ago

[cuchufletapl]

READ FROM RIGHT TO LEFT

For Edling Week 2024. Day 1: arrival / kiss / spark / dawn

That time when you go meet the people that you allied yourself with to capture a homunculus and you get caught off guard by how soft the usually contentious alchemist boy looks when he's just awoken.

(Image description in ALT)

@edling-week

[triona-tribblescore]

"Sunburn" by The Living Tombstone is so them coded im insane over it

[bowserphobia]

the return of Human Bowser- i mean Regular Bowser.

Transcript under the cut ->

Panel One Peach: Ugh... meeting the parents. Are you nervous? I'm SUPER nervous. Bowser: Pff, no.

Panel Two Bowser: WAIT- What d'you MEAN you're nervous?? If anyone should be nervous it should be ME!!!!!

Panel Three Bowser: You've probably had this human thing locked down since the day you hatched- Peach: So what? That doesn't mean they'll automatically like me!

Panel Four Peach: You know how I am. I'm a perfectionist.

Panel Five Bowser: ... Not based on how my nails are turnin' out. Peach: It'll wash off...

Panel Six Bowser: C'moooon. They're gonna LOVE you. You're making it bigger than it is.

Panel Seven Bowser: At least MARIO isn't giving you pop quizzes on MAMMALIAN TAXONOMY. Like, I GET it already. Hair, milk, inner ear bones, whatever.

Panel Eight Bowser: It's basically IMPOSSIBLE for you to be the one to ruin this, so why don'tcha calm down.

Panel Nine Peach: HEY. I'm PERFECTLY CAPABLE of ruining this. Bowser: NOT IF I RUIN IT FIRST!!!

Panel Ten Peach: I make a bad first impression sometimes. Bowser: Oh, come the fuck on- you're INCREDIBLY charming. Peach: I'll probably throw up. Bowser: I might hit on his dad. Mario: Ohhh my god. Oh my god. Luigi: Hmm... Hey, Mario, should I even broach marsupials? You think that'll come up at all?

[automatonknight]

id: a digital drawing of a blue engineer and walenty-an original character. walenty is pale, has long, black hair with horns, a tail and claws. he's wearing square glasses, fingerless gloves, a green, floral shirt over a black tank top and black shorts and shoes. kit is holding a fishing rod in kits right hand. engineer is wearing his hardhat and goggles, a blue shirt, dark blue overalls and brown boots. he also has a fishing rod swung over his shoulder. he and walenty are walking next to eachother, with walenty on the left and engie on the right. the background shows a pine forest. end id

[cosmocove]

some bobbles (+ two unfinished things)

[llitchilitchi]

the priest-emperor and his champion

[pilferingapples]

JBM steal! for @lesmisshippingshowdown !

On the FAR other end of my artistic experiments: so back in canon era (or so I've read) there were people along the fashionable strolling boulevards who did quick drawings and sketch-paintings for souvenirs. These were in no way artistic portraits--like good carnival caricaturists today, the artists made up their speed by relying on a small set of colors and some recognizable shortcuts /stock types of Person to Draw. It's always seemed like the sort of thing that JBM would pick up on a whim. This was something I tried to draw super quick, with a limited set of overbright "paints".

...also, there's this song. Which I've always loved for its sweet wistfulness-- the way it's about a time and a love that is gone and was probably even grieved, but long enough ago that now what remains is just the fondness. So , here, a filk for Musichetta, and JBM, some time Long Later when the paints and the memories are faded but still there. Also there is a bonus picture under the cut, after the filk:P (241 words,if I can trust my program!)

Deep in the pocket of an old worn out day skirt I chanced to discover an old memory Three for a quarter-franc boulevard portrait Taken of Joly and Legle and me

He's in the corner, his shirt collar open Like some Spanish lover, some bold Hernani Each of them smiling and holding my hand close It's Lesgle and Joly, they're smiling for me

It must have been sometime in June 1830 That hopeful bright summer, we knew we'd won free I took their arms as we walked through the arcade Three young believers on a half a franc spree

Three for a quarter franc Boulevard portrait Painting our loves for the whole world to see Hey kiss me quick, 'cause the sunlight is fading It's fading on Joly and Laigle and me

Waiting on that late night omnibus back home They held me warm, in the cool evening breeze All of us swore to be in love forever Forever for Joly and Lesgles and me

Three for a quarter franc Boulevard portrait Painting our loves for the whole world to see Hey kiss me quick, 'cause the sunlight is fading It's fading on Joly and Lesgueles and me

Three for a quarter franc boulevard portraits Three young believers on a  half a franc spree I saved your picture in my day skirt pocket L'aigle and Joly, do you have one of me

Joly and Lesgle, do you have one of me

(Note: no IDEA if those prices would make any sense, but the Vibes Were Right. Also: Astute readers may notice one portrait is missing. this is NOT because I ran out of time and wrists , it's because that one was Bossuet's and well. His luck is Like That-- he misplaced it long before the end, though if he'd turned out his pockets one more time he might have realized he actually had it there all along...)

[vaporclan]

Hi Tumblr. Sorry for being MIA more often recently.

TW: Talking about unhygienic and gross shit

So you've seen me talk about the state of my room before. With your guys's help when I opened commissions a few months ago I was able to replace some of the nasty furniture last time, but I couldn't fix the actual room. It's still a state.

It's gotten entirely out of my control. There's trash bags everywhere, mold, some of the bags that have used cat litter in it have ripped and spilled everywhere, mold mites, fruit flies, moldy food everywhere, the carpet is stained with all sorts, etc

I just want a complete fresh start for 2025. It's clear I cannot clean this by myself. I've had a new bed sitting downstairs for a year now that I can't set up cause my room is so bad.

It's clear I'm gonna Have to hire a professional to do it, but it's gonna cost so much money. I'm disabled - I get paid 1k a month in disability benefits, most of which goes to rent, groceries and cat supplies, so I legit just can't afford to pay a professional.

It's gotten this bad because I am practically bedridden - I have no energy to do anything ever and spend 24 hours a day in bed. Even my bed is full of garbage and moldly food, and even my mattress topper is moldy. I haven't showered in forever cause I don't see a point.

My hair is matted, I need a haircut. I need new clothes cause they're all either dirty or lost.

I've tried over and over again for a year now to get my room under control, but I NEED professional help. My brother / carer has tried helping me but he also struggled, cause he has similar energy issues as well as a weak stomach.

I've contacted multiple deep cleaners, and I haven't been given an estimate yet, so I can't quite say how much it'll be but it'll definitely be in the hundreds.

I genuinely don't think I can do commissions again. I'm sorry. I already have burnout from the comic. I don’t know what to do. (Don't worry, I'll finish the commissions I do have soon, but I think I'm closing them for a good while after.)

I have my Patreon, where I'm sketching as much of the story as possible (I'm 106 pages ahead) + the discord where I post script snippets and concept art and talk about future plans.

I also have a PayPal, if you wish to help - but don't feel obligated.

Sorry for this. I'm struggling recently. It was my birthday at the start of this month, and I told myself I'd get my room sorted for my birthday. I tried to do it myself, but after a couple hours I realized it was fruitless. I lost the energy entirely and just got back in bed. I'm so tired of living like this.

[grimmcheems]

Yall this took forever to finish. So glad I actually decided to continue it instead of abandoning it in my drafts🎀🗿 I love this brush so much and have been using it for a while now, I might make more arts like this occasionally bc they take forever.

Other than that, pray for me yall🙏🏽or help me manifest bc things have not been going well for me for a while. I just have not had any luck this past yr. Anyways I love berumin and the handful of us berumin truthers out here (🤭you know who you are🗣️)

😭 berumin yapping below⬇️🗣️‼️⚠️

I think this is my first actual Berumin art, wherein it’s obvious💀 all of the other ones I’ve made of these two are so all over the place and parts of aus I made, but this one is just something I did for fun a yr ago and left the sketch alone(it was so close to being abandoned fr) until I got back to it two weeks ago and decided to pull through. At first I was just gonna do a simple lineart and got carried away and then had to go all out to make everything match and make sense. It rly was a process doing the limbs and having to change a lot of the posing.

Idk what it was but I added those nails to armin on one hand and had to do it for ALL of them, it just rly played into the demon aspect so well I couldn’t resist. This originally didn’t have all the smaller details and I rly just made a lot of it along the way.

I rly liked thinking of this dynamic where Bert is more gentle/pure? And Armin is more deceptive and controlling? Idrk how to describe how I imagined it in my mind when I first made this but that’s the gist of it. Armin at first had a curious expression than the sly one he has here in the old sketches, and there was even a very rough sketch version where he’s an angel instead but I didn’t find it that appealing as a concept and I remember that sketch being so frustrating to get the wings right and I think that’s why I dropped this drawing at first.

Anyways 🗣️🗣️I LOVE BERT and MIN🗣️🗣️🎀🐢🐚

I actually like how ambiguous I left the context of this because there rly is a lot of possibilities this could go story-wise. Like, does Armin appear to Bertolt physically and everyone can see him but he’s only befriending Bert for demonic(?) purposes or is Armin manifested by Bertolt subconsciously. Is Armin a representation of Bert’s corruption? Who knows? I honestly couldn’t tell you but that’s probably why I was happy to make this more detailed than my usual stuff.

Other than that I do like the idea that perhaps Armin was a fallen angel that was casted out and became a demon? Something like that. Maybe Bert became a man of the cloth as a result of shame and guilt over something he did and that mirrors Armin’s fall from grace in how they both have to mask who they used to be???? Maybe none of this is real and this is Bert’s divine punishment in purgatory? What if there was a universe in which Bert wronged Armin in someway and Bert’s psyche takes a hit because of it?

It’s possible this isn’t even Armin but who knows?

Yall maybe I’m cooking with this actually.🤭👀👩🏽‍🦯🗿

What do you perceive this as and what is your take from just this alone? I kinda wanna know how everyone else would interpret them in this👁️👁️😳🥺🙏🏽🎀

Should I do another version of this but with concepts around demonology or something? Idk.

Btw I plan on finishing another berumin drawing I started last yr ,but based on a rly good berumin fic I read, I just haven’t gotten back to it.

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 28, wc: 804] - sleepover : 10 hour flight

“HEY GUYS,” you wave, holding your bag full of your necessities and clothes for the night. that’s right, you’re staying over at your girlfriend’s place! which is also your cousin’s place. which is also minji, danielle, and haerin’s place. which also may or may not be the newjeans dorm. because your girlfriend is hanni from newjeans. 

wow, you still can’t believe that you’re dating hanni from newjeans, and you didn’t even meet as a fan—you met on some random day at the airport, strangers-to-lovers-trope type of shit. 

minji and hyein are the ones who answer the door for you, and minji immediately sighs, “you better not pull anything tonight.”

“you bet, MJ,” you click your tongue playfully and shoot a finger-gun at her, “no shady business that was planned.”

hyein gives you a hug, and- “oh my god, you got taller again!”

the younger girl is about to make a height comparison with her hands until you spot danielle who pushes her out of the way to give you a hug. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in forever, you’re so busy with school!”

a slight headache invades your mind for a split second when she mentions ‘school’. “i’ve got deadlines, a painting to finish, and a thesis to write, dani. don’t remind me…”

the australian shoots you a pitying look, before making way for hanni, who strikes a pose before strutting over to you. “hello, guest.”

oh, another thing you learned is that hanni can be pretty unintentionally funny at times. like how she’s greeting you like some sci-fi bigshot. “hello, your highness,” you bow, hovering your hand over your chest. 

she brings you in for a short peck on the lips, causing haerin (who just walked into the living room) to cover hyein’s eyes, and for minji to cover haerin’s eyes. danielle smiles and walks to the kitchen. “i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, han,” you smile fondly at her before she leads you into the apartment. everyone gathers in her room where you also put your bag of things in. 

it’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been to the dorm, but it hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen the girls—danielle was exaggerating. you just stopped by their practice room two days ago to drop off some food that hyein’s mom made for them. not that your absence has changed anything, the dorm is pretty much the same save for a big banner featuring their ‘right now’ characters. 

in hanni’s room, she’s moved around some stuff, like the record player that’s playing a mac demarco vinyl right now. there’s also a whole section dedicated to organizing the various supplies that you’ve forgotten while you were over the few dozens (maybe even hundreds) of times over two years. you’re pretty sure there’s even stuff you left in hyein’s room, whoops.

you climb up on her loft bed (which she’s been saying she’s gonna replace, but she hasn’t yet) and hang your legs over the edge. minji sends you a warning look from her place on the floor. hanni looks concerned, but joins you criss-cross on the bed, holding her ‘fluffy’ plush (yes, the one from despicable me) to her chest.

a few conversations start, like danielle bringing up sylvanian families and getting haerin very invested in the discussion, which led to the topic shifting to cats, and then your sketch of a cat you saw on the way here, and somehow sparking your flame of inspiration.

you slowly lean forward, trying to get a view of the girls that are sitting on the floor (or bean bag, in haerin’s case) because just a little more and you’ll have a perfect bird’s eye view.

hanni notices your movements and widens her eyes, “y/n, you’re gonna fall!”

“it’s not that high,” you try to reassure her, still inching off of the bed, danielle, hyein, and minji scoot away just in case you actually fall, which you probably will, based on their previous experiences with you. come on, you mostly stopped doing those stunts a long time ago, because you knew hanni would worry! it’s not like you’re gonna—

“y/n!”

…you fell. that kind of hurt. “uh, don’t worry guys. it’s just a sprain.”

haerin winces as she looks at your present state. “your arm is bent the other way.”

it is? you look at your arm and, oh. “i guess it is—oh shit.”

…

“i can’t believe i’m in the er with you. again,” hanni sighs heavily, poking at the cast wrapped around your arm.

you blow a strand of your bangs out of your face. “at least i didn’t break two of my ribs again. hey, wanna reenact our first kiss?”

your girlfriend stares blankly at you. you raise your unbroken arm in defense. “no? okay…”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u 10 hour flight

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 29 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You dare not put it down on the big tablet on your easel where John will see, but you can’t stop yourself from drawing it out in your smaller sketchbook-journal that is easier to squirrel away under clutter, putting down marks like you mean to exorcise her from your memory. You draw her like a ghost in her field of happy white flowers, and write in the margins in your looping script, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make him forgive you. You want me to save him but I don’t know how. I don’t fucking know how.

Maybe she’ll actually hear your plea and do something useful about it, like haunt John’s dreams instead of yours.

Maybe you’re losing your damn mind. 

You find that either way, you’re not brave enough to mention her to your captor again.

She becomes an obsession, and you keep drawing her in your little sketchbook. You’ve only ever seen one picture of her. It was in the den, but has since disappeared. Still, you feel you know the lines of her face, the brightness of her eyes. You go back to your old fixation with the ladies of Mucha, sketching her out as the Lady of the Daisies with flowing auburn hair surrounded by her stylized flowers and flowing lines.

You strive to cover your true fixation by putting down anything as quickly as you can on the easel, knowing your captor will be by for inspection. You draw sunflowers, your favorite summer bloom, something fun but you can do with your eyes closed with colorful, juicy strokes of oil pastels. You hope to keep John off the scent of the book that holds your heartfelt neuroses that you bury under piles of all your new art supplies and anything else you can find.

It was stupid, of course, to think you could really hide anything from him.

One day you find him in the chair with his legs crossed, perusing your sketch journal with one of those magnificent thunderheads of a frown.

You are certain you are fucked, when he asks, “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Trembling as you imagine what he’s going to do to you for this infraction, you answer truthfully, “No.”

He closes the book with a snap, crossing the floor to stand before you, his powerful body moving deceptively slow, the way a tiger appears slothful in the jungle.

You know he can snap you up with one bite.

You cannot stop shaking, as he peers down that straight nose at you, pinning you with black eyes that somehow burn. He does not touch you, but God. He sees everything. You just know that he sees everything, and you find you are terrified of how he’ll react.  

“Have you been snooping through my things?”

“No.” The irony of him holding your sketch diary is not lost on you, but wisely you hold your tongue.

“How did you know what she looked like?”

“You had a picture out of her, ages ago.” At least, it felt like a like a lifetime ago.

“How did you know about the daisies?”

Now you know he’s going to flip his shit. It sounds fucking absurd, even to you. Your voice can barely rasp past what feels like dried twigs in your throat to whisper, “I saw them in a dream.”

You expect him to scoff and call you a liar. But he just searches your face, his eyes a little too wild for your liking. Here we go. He’d been damn near stable the past few days, but surely this will set him off.

You close your eyes, unable to watch the unfolding of your doom. This is it. He’s going to lock you up forever. You’ll never see the light of day again. The trembling in your frame kicks up to ten, and you hug yourself just to have something to hold on to.

When his next question comes, he could push you over with a feather.

“What does she say?”

You shake your head, realizing your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Nothing. She just…offers me the flower.” Going for broke you add, “She looks so sad.”

It is the sound of tearing paper that opens your eyes; with horror you find John making confetti of your art nouveau sketch that took hours to do. However, any protest dies on your lips—if destroying the drawing appeases him, maybe he won’t take it out on you.

Without another word, just a hard look, he stalks from the room.

Only when the sound of his footsteps fade down the hall do you let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, your knees quivering like leaves in a storm.

However, you are not foolish enough to believe you’re in the clear just yet.

-Later, there is no dinner. You find the kitchen cold and empty. Not sure what to make of this, you graze in the fridge, before returning to your bedroom. Not sure where John has gotten off to, you shower, then go to bed, finding yourself lying awake in the dark without him beside you, almost itchy without his steady presence in the evening at your side.

Part of it might be that you fear something is brewing, and you can’t stand the waiting…but part of it might simply be that you miss him, as fucked up as that is.

In the end, against your better judgement, you go looking.

You search the house, until the only room that is left is the garage. Silently you open the door, slipping through without a sound. You too are learning how to move quiet as a wraith. The smell of rubber and oil assaults your nostrils. Classic rock is playing low on the radio. In the far bay, the hood of the Mustang is open, and John is bent over inside, wrenching on something and muttering to himself. There is a partially empty bottle of Blanton’s Bourbon on the workbench behind him, and an empty glass.

Unable to stop yourself from committing what perhaps might prove to be suicide, you creep to the other side of the Land Rover, using it as cover as you eavesdrop on this man grumbling to the ghost of his deceased wife.  

“What do you want from me? I loved you. I loved you with every fucking fiber of my being, but you left me. I died with you the day you left me, and she is the only thing that makes me feel alive again. I need her, and she never would have come to me on her own. She never would have stayed. She never would have stayed.”

He says this to himself over and over, and it wrenches your heart, because you know it isn’t true.

You think you manage to creep back out again without him noticing, Led Zeppelin on the radio disguising the sound of the door.

When at last he comes to bed and wraps you in his arms, holding you too hard for comfort, you feign sleep, smelling the bourbon fumes on his breath. You can’t help but tense, wondering if he will forget his promise this deep in his cups.

But he just sighs into your hair, crushing you as he pulls you even closer, and you don’t know why it breaks your heart all over again.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Overprotective

Father!John Price x Daughter!Reader

wc: ∼500 summary: You are dating someone and Price is feeling his Father instincts flare up warnings: none, fluff, no y/n used, platonic story a/n: divider — @strangergraphics, sketch is mine!!! i drew price!! probably a year ago by now but i made it!! enjoy, his came out short oops

Your dad made it very clear from the beginning that he will break the legs of anyone who tries to hurt you. Especially if it‘s about dating. He can and will make their life worse than it already is, and make sure to scare them for life.

So, of course, it was a surprise for your father when you slipped during a conversation and mentioned your boyfriend.

»Say again?«

»What?« You pretend really hard to pretend like nothing happened, as if there is no boyfriend you accidenetallly revealed. But he isn‘t stupid, and you were never good at this with him. Damn his military interrogation skills.

»Who is it?«

He inquires, making you sigh out in defeat and embarrassment. Finally, you decide to give in, knowing this can‘t go on forever.

»It‘s… it‘s just an earlier friend. You know him, actually!«

It seems like he is thinking, finally seeming less tense. The thought of someone taking advantage or using you in a relationship makes him physically sick. He did his best on protecting you while growing up, now being retired and still making sure you get the best of best.

When he first took you in, it was really hard not to freak out whenever you were hurt in the slightest way. Getting a papercut, for example, was something he dreaded to see. Even the smallest drop of blood that was yours, made him feel incredibly guilty.

But even talking about emotional pain was hard for him. He isn‘t used at being open about feelings, so comforting you was a little difficult at first too. Even now, when you are an adult and can take of yourself, he still gets the feeling of needing to protect you. Nothing he does feels enough when, so finding out you are in a relationship already feels like failing in a way.

»Which friend?«

Finally, he seems more calm and open about the conversation. The only thing he knows about your friends is that they are pretty decent. All nice people.

»You know, the one from middle school?«

His eyes widen, jaw almost going slack. If it‘s actually true and you are together with someone from middle school, then how long were together? Did you really manage to trick him and keep it a secret for that long?

After the initial shock was gone, he finally starts to loosen up and take it more lightly. Of course a joke can‘t slip past him and he decides to make several. Just to embarrass you even more for scaring him earlier.

»Don‘t marry someone behing my back, though, okay?« Or, »But you both use protection, don‘t you?«

It‘s as if he waited all his life to crack those stupid jokes. But in all honesty, he is glad you chose to date someone nice. Someone he could half-rely on. Even though he knows your friend good enough, he still has lingering doubts. For now he ignores it and tries his best for you.

That is, until your boyfriend fails, of course.

←MASTERLIST

[drewsephrry]

memories

pairings: harry styles x fem!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, yelling, crying (idk if it counts as a warning) cuss words

inspired by: memores by conan gray

It was a rainy autumn night. She had a random movie playing in the background just to comfort her. She hated rain with passion. She hated that she was all alone and the only thing she could do to distract herself from it was look at old pictures.

Pictures from her childhood that were much too nostalgic for her, trying really hard to remember the name of the girl braiding her hair. Pictures from her vacation with her best friends from the previous summer, matching flower crowns and seashell necklaces on display. Pictures with her previous lover, that if she saw just two months ago she would cry her heart out but instead she smiled and reminisced about the tattoo he had let her draw on his skin shown in the photo.

It was a random Thursday night, the couple was chilling with their friends when Zayn told them that he had just acquired a tattoo gun. Harry was thrilled with the idea of putting more ink on his skin and even more so when Niall suggested that he let Y/N draw one on him.

Y/N had almost immediately shook her head in denial but Harry begged and begged until she sighed, defeated.

“Harry, you do know you're going to be stuck with it forever?” She warned.

“Yes, my love. Stop worrying about everything.” He tries to reassure her once more.

“But H, what if I mess it up? Or-or even worse we break up and you have it on your skin for the rest of your life?” She started asking with shakily hands, stuttering and failing to breathe properly.

“Y/N, honey, breathe. You'll be fine. Okay and what if you mess it up? That would just make it even more special to me. I love you and I completely trust you.” He puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. “I'm not planning on breaking up with you anytime soon, maybe even ever. Unless you do and you're trying to let me down slowly, I don't see anything wrong with you tatting me.” He reassures her once again and she sighs, nodding. Harry smiles widely and pecks her lips, before pulling his long hair up in a bun.

After sterilizing the equipment and Zayn showing her how the gun works, she was ready. She didn't feel like it, but Harry squeezed her hand three times, their way of expressing their love to each other without actually saying anything.

She asked him multiple times, as the tattoo gun hit his skin if he was in any pain and if he needed anything, but Harry told her repeatedly he was fine and was praising her for her light touch.

After just a few minutes, the sketch, she had done on a random notebook Zayn had in his apartment, was brought to life.

A palm tree on the backside on his upper arm was delicately outlined and filled by her. She grabbed the handheld mirror that Zayn gave her and held it so Harry could see the work she did.

“Do you like it? If you don't, we can find something to cover it up with and I'll pay for it.” She suggested immediately, worried because he hadn't spoken yet. But the truth was he was mesmerized by it.

“I love it. It's so simple but yet done so beautifully. Thank you, my love. Thank you so so much.” He said kissing her lips. She smiled and sighed once again.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Well, you know what they say. Tat for tit!” He exclaimed jokingly, trying to lift her shirt when Y/N pushed his hand away giggling.

“You're such an idiot!”

Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. She stopped gazing at her phone and another knock was heard. She got up from her couch cautiously. It was really late and it was pouring outside. Who could it be?

She grabbed the pepper spray from her handbag, as another knock was heard. She clutched her phone, close to her chest, ready to call the police.

She looked through the peephole and saw the one person she didn't expect to.

Harry was standing there, his hair sticking on his forehead and his clothes soaked.

She quickly unlocked the door and gasped.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” She asked, worried and confused.

“Need to talk with you, angel.” He slurred, an obvious sign he was drunk. He was pouting and his glossy, his green eyes were bloodshot telling her he was crying. His cologne was overcome by the smell of tequila. Y/N couldn't do anything else than open the door wider and gestured for him to come in.

She closed the door behind her and walked to her kitchen to pour some water for him, in hopes that he would sober up a little. He followed her like a wet and lost puppy that she couldn't turn away.

He takes a gulp of the water she hands him and smiles at her. She looked so cute and tiny compared to him, her hair was a little longer and her skin was still tanned from summer.

“I love you so much Y/N/N. I never wanted to hurt you.” He slurred again.

“But you did, H.” She couldn't tolerate standing there and listening to him pour his heart out when he broke her own a few months ago.

Y/N had started getting better. Getting over him. She was considering starting dating again. But seeing him like this made it so hard for her to think. Think about how fucked what he did and said was.

“Please, my baby, my love, listen to me. I made a huge mistake.” He was pulling his hair and trying to balance on his own two feet. He stumbled and fell to the floor, Y/N immediately reaching for him to make sure he was alright.

“I have missed you. I can't sleep without you. I barely eat anymore. I-I…don’t know what to do without you.” He confessed, tearing up. He pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat with his back on one of the kitchen cabinets.

Y/N was nodding, feeling upset and guilty she made him feel like this.

“H-Harry…I don't know what to say. Please, don't cry. You can stay with me tonight. We'll be fine.” She bent down to be eye level with him, comforting him and hugging him tightly. Neither one of them could deny how safe they felt in that moment, in each other's arms.

Y/N knew she was making a huge mistake, something her therapist won't be able to help with, something her friends cannot support and mostly she cannot expect any one of them to be there to pick up her pieces when everything would break down again.

Harry was led to her bedroom and she helped him lay down, removing his articles of clothing that he claimed felt like lava on his skin.

“Why were you all alone? Don't you still hate the rain?” He asked, getting under the covers of her bed, his eyes slightly closed. Y/N nodded and walked towards her side of the bed.

Y/N laid beside him, wrapping her arms around his back and to his front. He squeezed them three times, before quiet snores were the only thing heard.

How could she say goodbye to him again, when he just spent an entire night with her?

That morning Y/N woke up to an empty bed. She walked out to her living room, to see that she was all alone.

He had left her.

She walked to the kitchen with an ache in her chest and saw a plate with a stack of pancakes with maple syrup on her kitchen counter for her to indulge in.

She ended up spending her whole day crying and watching ‘The notebook’.

The next day, when Y/N's therapy appointment was scheduled, she told her about the night she spent with Harry, how she felt safe and for once, after a few months, slept like a baby and through the whole night.

Her therapist scolded her about her poor choices and talked to her about stepping forward.

A few days passed since Y/N's and Harry's last encounter. Y/N was getting ready for her best friend's birthday party when a knock was heard on her door. She yelled that she'll be right there, thinking it was the delivery guy with her food.

She grabbed her wallet and ran to the door with a wide smile on her face. Although when she opened the door, it was wiped away quickly. She swallowed and looked at Harry's green eyes.

“I missed holding you.” He slurred. Y/N was already running late to help her best friend with the party preparations. She was planning on getting there first out of everyone, to blow balloons and hang the garlands she had bought. But her meal hadn't arrived in time and now, this was happening.

She opened the door wide and he entered, he walked and sat down on her couch with a thump. He giggled at the sound he made and got quickly distracted by the show on her TV.

Y/N groaned and tried to keep in her mind what her therapist, mom and best friend told her.

“It's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning, over and over again.”

“Hey, come look at this! Monica got stung by a jellyfish!” He giggled, getting comfortable on her couch.

She cursed under her breath, thinking how he would fuck up her progress in getting over him. Now twice. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and walked in her bedroom to call her best friend.

“I'm really sorry, but I won't make it tonight.” She lied.

“What? Y/N, it's my birthday! You can't miss it.” Her best friend had furrowed her eyebrows, even if Y/N couldn't see it.

“I love you so much, I'll explain everything another time. And I am really and truly sorry.” She apologized again.

“Don't tell me he's there again.” Her best friend groaned and Y/N sighed.

“Y/N/N, he's no good for you. He's going to hurt you again. He's going to keep coming back since you're not turning him away. This is a never ending cycle, babe. Think about all the trauma he put you through. You need to put him in the past and move on.”

Y/N sighed defeated. Her best friend was right.

“Again, I'm really sorry.” She apologized one last time, before hanging up the phone. She walked back to the living room, where he was laying on the couch watching as Ross yelled ‘We were on a break!’. Harry chuckles at that and looks up to find you standing a few feet away from him.

“Care to join me, my beautiful girl?” he asked, making space for her and she smiled sadly as she nodded.

“Let me take my heels off really quick and I'll be right there.” She assured him, going inside her bedroom again, untying the straps from her heels and sitting down on her bed to catch her breath. She felt like throwing up. She felt her chest heating and that she was unable to breathe.

One, two.

One, two.

In, out.

In, out.

She was calm again.

The doorbell was heard, so she got up and out of her bedroom to find Harry already at the door.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” His slurred British accent alarming you. You ran quickly at the door and pushed Harry away from it.

“I'm really sorry about him, he's not feeling well. Thank you for your service!” Y/N tipped the now scared delivery guy, grabbing the bag of food from his hand and closing the door quickly. She pressed her back on it and sighed loudly.

“Don't be upset with me. He just wanted to get in your pants. I was trying to protect you. I always will.” Harry's eyes filled with tears once again. A laugh track was heard and she sighed again.

“It's okay, H. I'm fine. We're fine. Let's go eat!” She grabbed his hand and he smiled, wiping his eyes.

They spent the rest of the night cuddling on her couch.

The next day, he was gone again. She opened her phone to see multiple texts and calls from her best friend, telling her not to worry and that she would forgive her for bailing on her.

Y/N ignored all of them, including her therapist's email to confirm their weekly appointment. She knew that she would be disappointed to hear that she's taking more and more steps back.

A week later, she still hadn't heard a word from Harry and she waited for his appearance on her doorstep.

And there he was, a loud knock on the door startling her from the cookies she decided to bake as a stress reliever.

She ran to the door and opened it to find him there. He looked a little bit better than the last times he visited her, although he still reeked of tequila.

“Hello, my love.” He said, approaching her to kiss her lips. But she pulled away and shook her head. She opened the door wider for him to enter. He did and walked to the couch, sitting down and removing his shoes, already getting comfortable. Y/N couldn't take it anymore.

“We need to talk. I don't care if you're sober or drunk as fuck, but this has got to stop.” She said upset.

“What's bothering you baby? I can kiss it better.” He giggled and made grabby hands at her.

“Harry, I am serious. You can't keep doing this. There's no good reason to believe that we could ever exist again. I cannot be your friend. I definitely cannot be your lover. And I cannot be the reason we hold back each other from actually falling in love with someone else.” Y/N felt lighter after telling him exactly how she felt.

Harry felt a lump growing on his throat, his eyeline was gathering tears and he felt his chest tightening. Suddenly his head was clearer and he wasn't under the influence of alcohol completely.

“I just…you can't keep showing up, especially drunk, ruining everything. Expecting me that I would just take you back. You fucking traumatized me Harry. You broke my heart. And I'm trying so hard to forget you, to put you in the past and you're not letting me do that. You're just too busy playing the victim and acting like you are the one who's hurt, like you're the one that has a specialist taking care of you and your feelings. Can you just for once listen to me and stay the fuck away from me? Just…stay in my memories.”

She felt tears rolling down her cheeks, she didn't even notice she was crying. Harry looked down on the floor, sniffling. Y/N wiped her tears and sat down beside him.

“Since you came all the way over here, I'll let you stay. You can stay as long as it takes, but this is the last time. When you're going to leave, you're taking all of your books that you have left, your coat that’s still in my closet and that good cologne that you have left in my bathroom and it haunts me. It's still on my clothes and pretty much everything that I own and it makes me…feel like dying. I mean, I'm barely surviving as it is.”

Harry was feeling like his heart was being stabbed over and over again. He hadn't realized how much damage he had done to Y/N. He didn't want her to feel that way anymore.

He got off from her couch and walked to her bedroom grabbing his coat, the cologne from the bathroom and gathered the books from her bookcase, putting them inside a tote bag, which was also his.

“I'm not gonna bother you anymore. I-I am really sorry for the damage I did. I never meant to hurt you. I love you way too much and…I know what I'm saying is not gonna change anything but I needed to get it off my chest. I wish you only the best, my lo-Y/N. And I'll always be there for you, if you ever need me. But I'll just stay in your memories.”

He kissed her lips once. Twice. Three times.

When he pulled away both of them had tears rolling down their cheeks, their eyes were red and their lips swollen from the kisses they shared.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Harry whispers. “For now.” He smiled and Y/N nodded.

“Goodbye H. Take care.”

A/N: just a lil valentines day gift lol, this was heartwrenching to write, hope you all enjoyed and cried with me

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Survivor Blues

SKETCHING GHOSTS : ELLIE'S POV

A/N: *Insert comment about how it's been way too long since I updated this story and how bad I feel about that here* Woof. It's been a WHILE. But I legitimately never stop thinking about this story, and this part is one that I have been very excited to share ever since I put it on the outline...*checks notes* three years ago. ANYWHO, this portion of the story starts to address the rift between Joel and Ellie and how (in this universe) they closed it. It also sprinkles some seeds for something that I'm frothing at the mouth to reveal in detail at a later date, so hopefully it won't be eight thousand years until the next update.

A/N 2: This part is dedicated to @fancypants1215 @lilac-boo & @writeforfandoms because your recent comments on this story relit my pilot light and I am so frickin' grateful <3

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mention of character deaths, canon typical grief, PLOT SPOILERS FOR TLOU & TLOU PART 2, I think that's it but if I missed anything please let me know!

Summary: Ellie doesn't get excited for gate patrol shifts - until she gets assigned one with you and sees it as an opportunity to get to know you a little better. (Just because it's the friendly thing to do and not at all because she wants to set you up with Joel.) A rushed mistake ends up facilitating the getting to know you part.

For the first time in months, Ellie was actually excited to take a gate watch shift. 

Normally, though she knew how crucial gate watch was to Jackson’s security, Ellie viewed the assignment the same way she viewed compost pickup or supply distribution - as boring, and a waste of her most unique feature. She preferred patrols and sweeps because they were more likely to mean action instead of downtime. But she also had a difficult time watching people who she cared about - or anyone at all, for that matter - walk out of those gates, knowing that they didn’t have the protection that she did. 

Knowing that they weren’t immune. 

Because I didn’t save the fucking world. The vaccine didn’t happen. Marlene was wrong. Riley’s face flashed in her mind. All the Fireflies were. 

That had been a harder pill to swallow in the two years that followed Salt Lake. Before she knew the truth. She’d spent the better part of a year believing that her life had a profound purpose, believing that with a few drops of her blood, doctors would be able to produce a cure for cordyceps that would return the world to a normal she’d never even known. Ellie had survived things, seen things, done things that she knew she wouldn’t have been able to had she not been driven by the belief that she could make a difference. That whatever she did could be justified, because the ends far outweighed any means imaginable.

Looking back on that mindset with a few years of perspective under her belt, she realized that that last line of thinking was why people - Tommy, mostly - said that she and Joel were cut from the same cloth. 

Now, though, after the truth had come to light - that there were no raiders at the hospital, that Joel had killed everyone who stood between him and Ellie, that what the Fireflies had told her about “a few drops of blood” had been bullshit and that not only had they never intended for her to survive the procedure, but that they couldn’t even guarantee that the experimental vaccine would have been a success - well, it was still a tough pill to swallow, because no matter how the cookie ended up crumbling, she was still immune, and everyone else still wasn’t. 

It was still painful to know that Joel, the only person she trusted, had chosen to lie to her about what happened that day. That he chose to continue the lie until she confronted him with an ultimatum. Forgiving him had been tough, too, but not because she didn’t want to or because she didn’t think he deserved it. Ellie loved Joel. She didn’t want to have to ice him out forever. And she knew that he loved her, too. That what he did that day was a manifestation of that love, that willingness to do anything to keep her safe, even the unimaginable. He’d given her a life that she never would have had, a future that otherwise would have been stolen from her. He’d given her what he couldn’t give Sarah, and Ellie knew that it was no small gift. 

But fuck, man, the price was steep. 

It had taken some time and a lot more explanation from Joel. He’d shown her proof that he’d taken from the hospital in the form of notes, lab tests and photocopied entries from the Firefly doctor’s private journal that further backed what he’d told her about the whole thing having been a shot in the dark. It came as a shock to her to see for herself that she had been far from the first immune subject who had been delivered to the SLC crew. That they had already tried - and failed - to harvest viable antibodies from the blood and tissue of three others just like her. Three others who had all died in the process. 

There had been more in the packet of pages that Joel produced from a box on the top shelf of his closet, more that made her sick to her stomach in new ways. Like the fact that it had been confirmed but kept secret amongst only a few at the facility that one of their own people had been born immune under the exact same circumstances as Ellie had. But that individual hadn’t even been considered for vaccine experimentation, which made the whole thing look like some on the team - and at the very least, the doctor himself - knew that even in the event that the vaccine was a success, the subject would die. 

Like he was protecting that person by knowingly sending others to slaughter. 

It all still made her shiver. But at least now she knew that she was probably never going to save the fucking world. The fucking world probably couldn’t be saved at this point. All she, all anyone who was left could do going forward, was to try to make the fucking world a little safer. A little kinder. A little bit more worth fighting for. 

And that was why she was excited for a gate patrol shift. Because it was with you, and she had been looking forward to a chance to get to know you since you joined the community in Jackson. Because she thought you might be a good match for Joel, and also because in the handful of short interactions she’d had with you, Ellie felt like you were someone who she could trust. The last time she’d felt that way about a relative stranger with so little to go off of had been with Tess, and it wasn’t lost on her that that probably meant something worth paying attention to. 

Plus she said she was bringing snacks. 

That was truly just a bonus, though. She was far more focused on the time she’d get to spend talking and listening to you. It was an eight hour, overnight shift, so even if you kept mostly to yourself, even if you chose to read or listen to music for some of the time - staying alert was important, but you had to be awake to be alert, so nightshifters usually brought something to keep themselves from falling asleep on the gate - eight hours was a long stretch to fill, and Ellie was hoping that by the end of them, A) the two of you would have nothing to report when the morning shift arrived, and B) she would have a better idea of who you were before you came over to have dinner with Joel. 

But despite being genuinely eager to check in for her gate patrol, Ellie still ended up running late. Losing track of time was something that she was unfortunately very good at, especially when she was engaged in some creative endeavor or another. In the minutes leading up to when she should have left to be on time to meet you, for example, she had been wrapped up in practicing a new song on her guitar. 

Had she been paying closer attention to the time, she wouldn’t have been as rushed as she scrambled to place the instrument back on its stand and grab her gun, knife and sketchbook from her desk, stuffing them in her backpack. Had she had the foresight to have her shit together before she sat down to fuck around with her guitar, she would have made sure that she grabbed the right sketchbook. The one she meant to bring, filled with innocuous drawings that ranged from silly doodles like a mer-mathematician or a comet that resembled a meatball with streaks of spaghetti as a tail, to ideas for new tattoos and whole pages dedicated to Shimmer. Drawings that she didn’t mind other people catching glimpses of - that she actually enjoyed showing off sometimes. 

The last one that she showed Joel had made him laugh his ass off. 

It was from a section dedicated to sketches she’d done from memory of their trip to the Wyoming Museum of Science and History. On one page she had drawn the helmet she’d donned and the capsule that she and Joel had climbed into in the space exhibit, but on the opposite side, she’d drawn several dinosaur skeletons, the Brontosaurus wearing a little fedora on its bony head. But the one that had garnered the belly laugh that Ellie realized she hadn’t heard in a long time, had been a side by side comparison of Tommy, and the thick-skulled dinosaur that Joel swore was the spitting image of his brother, complete with placards labeling each as “Pachycephalosaurus” and “Tommy-Millersaurus”. 

“You really captured him, kiddo. The likeness is uncanny.” 

He was always complimentary and supportive when it came to her drawings. “You’re a damn good artist, Ellie,” he’d tell her as he flipped through the sketches she put in front of him. They were all familiar faces wearing familiar expressions or striking instantly recognizable poses. 

Dina, arms crossed, head cocked, one brow raised and a clever quip on her lips. 

Jesse, long frame leaning against a wall, wearing sandwich crumbs in his smirk. 

Joel, one leg bent and perched atop the other knee, head bowed over his guitar, eyes closed. 

“More talent in your pinky finger than most people have in their whole bodies. Better than I could ever do, that’s for sure.” 

She’d roll her eyes and remind him that he was an artist, too - that his carvings, his music, even the instruments that he built were, in fact, art. And then she’d thank him and gather the pages and shove them back in her sketchbook. 

There was a whole book of drawings that she’d never shown him - that she’d never shown anyone. Because that book was just for her. That was her book of ghosts, each page bringing one of them back to life through the strokes and drags of charcoal over paper. It was her own way of processing loss and grief, creating a collection of portraits of the people she’d lost. But not at the age they were when she lost them. In these portraits, her subjects had gotten to live long enough to have their features changed by age, giving Ellie the chance to imagine them as they’d be if they were there with her in Jackson.

Riley, face a little thinner, eyes a bit sharper, a ring piercing her right nostril like she always talked about having done one day. 

Tess, hair like Joel’s, more gray than brown, old cuts healed into scars, little laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. 

Sam and Henry, more meat on their bones, bigger smiles pulling at their cheeks, the younger of the two catching up to his brother in height. 

It wasn’t that she thought Joel wouldn’t understand. Ellie knew that guilt and pain and loss were all things that he was well versed in. He knew the ways those things could manifest, and she was sure that he would be supportive of her finding a safe outlet to express those feelings. She didn’t show him her memorial sketchbook because it wasn’t just people that she had personally lost that she memorialized. She also included those she felt robbed of that she had never gotten to meet. 

Her parents. 

Bill and Frank. 

Sarah.

Ellie wasn’t sure how Joel would react to that last piece in particular. She figured it was best to keep them all to herself, so she had… 

Until she accidentally stuffed the wrong book into her pack as she rushed out the door of her garage apartment. Until five hours into the gate patrol shift with you, when she started yawning and needed to doodle to keep herself alert. Until she realized her mistake when she clumsily dropped her sketchbook and it fell open at your feet and you bent down to pick it up. Until you glanced at the page and time froze. 

“Oh, shit!” 

“It’s fine, I got it. Here-” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Of all the pages that the book could have fallen open to, fate chose the one that would be the hardest to explain. And judging by the flash of recognition and then realization that she saw pass over your face in the glow of the mounted gate light, Ellie wasn’t sure if she even could explain it without explaining it all. 

The pages you’d glimpsed had been two of several that were dedicated to Sarah. Ellie had used the framed photos that Joel kept out as her starting reference, but she’d based the changes that Sarah’s features would have undergone on what she saw every time she looked at Joel. Similar smile, face filling out in the same way, and her eyes, so much like his. 

It would likely have been enough of a giveaway that this was Joel’s daughter had you only seen the solo portrait of Sarah. You were observant. You would have picked out those similarities and at the very least wondered. But what Ellie had sketched on the opposite page all but spelled it out for you. 

It was a reproduction of the photo she’d seen so many times, of Joel with his arm around Sarah at one of her soccer games. Only instead of twelve years old she was thirty two, as tall as her father, and instead of a field and net as a backdrop, they stood on Jackson’s main street. Their grins were just as big, Joel’s maybe even a bit bigger because Ellie knew that if he had his daughter there with him now, nothing in the world could make him happier. 

But that was impossible, which was why the scene was in the book of ghosts. 

You’d only spent a few seconds with your eyes on the drawing, tastefully diverting them once you’d recognized Joel on the page and closing the book to hand it back to her, but Ellie swore it felt like an hour as her heart hammered behind her ribs and her brain pulsed out a panic. 

Oh, shit. 

Until then, the patrol with you had been going better than Ellie could have hoped it would. The two of you had talked about everything from movies - she’d told you that she recently watched Dawn of The Wolf and you’d laughed, telling her that it had been a huge deal when it came out - to different kinds of baked goods that Ellie had never tried and whether or not you could make them. You’d ended up bringing something that you called a “knock off hot-pocket”, which turned out to be pastry dough filled with cheese and sausage, and she told you about the soft pretzel case she saw at an old gas station once and that she had always wanted to try one. You smiled and said that would be no problem and that you’d stick a couple in with Joel’s next order at the bakery. 

Things had even strayed into more personal territory. A few deer passed by your line of sight at one point and Ellie asked you if you’d ever hunted them before. You’d told her that you had. Turkeys, rabbits and other smaller animals, too, adding that you had been responsible for making sure that your family had enough food, which meant that you had to get good at hunting fast. She’d shared that it had been the same for her, telling you about the time on the road when Joel had been too injured and sick with an infection to do anything but breathe, so hunting had fallen to her. She’d left out how close to death he’d been and how terrified she was and everything that had happened after she brought down her first deer, of course. But it was the first time she’d even gotten close to talking about Silver Lake. 

She’d even managed to make you laugh with a few of her punnier jokes. 

And now it’s gonna be awkward and… Oh, shit. 

It had to be the picture of Sarah and Joel. It had to be the set of pages that all but spelled out to you that Joel’s daughter was gone. It had to be the set of sketches that told a story that wasn’t Ellie’s to tell. She knew that Joel hadn’t told you about Sarah yet, and she wasn’t sure if he was planning to anytime soon. Or at all. Probably not, if she had to guess. But you’d seen her. Only for a few seconds, but Ellie knew that you knew. 

Oh, shit. What do I- 

You gently cleared your throat and sought out her eyes with yours as you handed her the book. “You’re quite the artist, Ellie.” 

She let out the breath she’d been holding in a rush. “Um… Thanks.” Taking the book, she stuffed it deep into her bag, no longer in need of something to keep her awake due to the adrenaline coursing through her from the panic. Is she not gonna say anything about… 

“Seriously,” you went on as you stretched your neck and sat back down. “I’m good for stick figures and that’s about it.” 

“I uh…” Ellie shrugged, still not sure what to say about the drawing you had seen. “Just always liked drawing,” she mumbled, before focusing on the now empty field where the deer had been standing and falling silent. 

Maybe we can just sit here for the rest of the shift and I won’t have to say anything at all. 

To your credit, you didn’t ask any follow up questions, seemingly picking up on her sudden cageyness. But three hours was a long time for Ellie to stay quiet - Joel could and would certainly attest to that - and about twenty minutes of staring into blank space was all it took for her to speak up. 

“Did you, uh-” She scratched the side of her nose absently and glanced in your direction. “Did you like, notice who was in the sketch you saw?” 

You extended your legs in front of you and stacked one boot heel on the opposite toe With a sigh, you nodded. “I did. Well,” you pressed your lips together and paused, catching Ellie’s eyes with yours.  “I recognized Joel. And I-” Sympathy flashed across your face as you winced slightly. “And Tommy told me that he lost a niece, so…” You trailed off. 

Ellie nodded slowly, feeling the sting of hot tears in the corners of her eyes. I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to. She swiped at her eyes angrily, hating the way her body betrayed her with tears when she was upset. Letting out a shaky breath, she said your name pleadingly. “Please don’t say anything to him.” 

“Hey,” you reached over and placed your hand on her shoulder, the simple gesture a surprising comfort to her. “Don’t worry about that, okay?” You shook your head but kept eye contact through the movement. “I wouldn’t do that. Not to you and not to him.” Letting out a breath, you pulled your hand back. “Everyone has things that they don’t really talk about. I get that. And I’d never want you or Joel to feel like you had to tell me anything. Even if it’s something I already… something I figured out on my own.” 

Though she believed you, and though it made her feel a little childish, she made a request. “Promise?” 

Without hesitation, you gave her a single nod. “I promise, Ellie.” 

“Thank you.” She wanted to fucking hug you but that felt like a step too far, so instead she gave you a watery smile. 

“You got it, kid.” The smile that you gave back to her made her think of that little boy in the photo on your fridge, your nephew, and about how you probably gave him the same smile when he needed assurance. And instead of calling the conversation over, it encouraged her to go on. 

“I uh… I didn’t mean to bring that sketchbook. I don’t - I have another one,” she gestured with her hands as the explanation spilled out of her. “That one is more like a journal and it’s like…” Why is it so hard to explain? She didn’t even ask. “That one I show people. This one I don’t because it’s kind of like my own way to deal with losing people and…” 

“I get that.” You said it so simply, as if her frayed and fragile reasons were more than sufficient. “I do something similar. Like I said, I can’t draw to save my life, but-” That made Ellie huff out a small, relieved laugh. “Sometimes when I really miss someone who isn’t here anymore I try to remember a recipe that they either taught me how to make or that I made for them and they really liked. Like, um-” You looked up at the night sky like there was a recipe written in the stars. “Like my mom’s potato soup or Gavin’s enchiladas or-” You laughed quietly to yourself. “Or the wildberry muffins I used to bake for Kyle when we were still at the farm. They’d stain his whole face.” You brought your gaze back to Ellie’s face. “Trying to remember those recipes brings up a lot of good memories.” Sighing, you gave her a smile that she could feel the sadness in, even though you didn’t seem sad as you spoke. 

“That’s what drawing is like for me,” she said softly. “Remembering what someone’s smile was like or their eyes or…” Fuck it, I’m gonna tell her. “In my-” She pointed to her pack to indicate the book inside. “In this one? I draw everyone how I think they’d look now.” Shrugging, she went on. “Like, older and… And happy.”

“I love that.” Your voice sounded watery now, too, but your eyes and mouth were still smiling. “I think it’s a really beautiful way to honor someone you cared about, Ellie. And I think if you want to keep it to yourself that’s completely fine.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “But I also think that sharing them? Maybe not with everyone, but… With one or two people that you trust and are close to? That might feel good, too. It might help you remember the good things if you talk about them.” 

Ellie thought about that for a few moments as she noticed an owl swooping from the trees in the distance down to the ground. She thought about telling Joel more about Riley. Or Dina about Sam and Henry. She’s right. I… I should. Because it keeps them alive. 

“Yeah,” she said after a beat. “Maybe I will someday.” 

You let another beat pass and then brought the whole thing back full circle. “You really are a great artist, though. I’d love to see your other sketchbook sometime.” 

At that, Ellie beamed. “Next time we have patrol together I’ll bring the right book.” She laughed, remembering how funny Joel thought the image was. “There’s this one of Tommy that’s hilarious.” 

You laughed and told her that you were looking forward to it, and then you effortlessly shifted the conversation back to shallower waters. By the time the morning shift got there to relieve the two of you, Ellie was exhausted but felt confident that she had been right about you: You were cool as hell, easy to talk to, and someone who she thought would be a perfect addition to Joel’s life, whatever that ended up looking like. 

– – – 

When she got back home, Ellie stopped in to let Joel know that she was back before heading for her bed and a several hour long nap. She found him in the kitchen, taking meat from the refrigerator to start marinating it in herbs and oil. Oh, I thought he’d just do burgers. She grinned to herself. He’s getting fancy. “A little early to start cooking dinner, don’t you think?” She teased, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Not for those of us with a sophisticated palate who like their food well seasoned,” he teased back, shutting the fridge with his hip. 

“Well excuuuuuuse me.” 

“Gate patrol go okay?” He asked, changing the subject without reacting to her exaggerated tone. 

“Yup.” She nodded once. “Don’t worry, your girlfriend is just fine-” 

“Ellie,” he made that little exasperated Joel huff that she had been fishing for. “She’s not my- It’s just dinner.” 

“Yeah, yeah, chef Romeo, I got it.” She flicked her wrist nonchalantly, then it was her turn to change directions without warning. “Hey, you know what you were saying yesterday about putting Sarah’s pictures away while she’s here?” 

She saw the way Joel’s fingers tightened on the container that he was still holding, something passing through his eyes before he responded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “What about it?” 

Ellie gave him a one armed shrug. “I don’t know, I was thinking about it and… I think you should keep them out. She’s got pictures out of her family that’s … that aren’t here. I just… I don’t think you have to worry about her asking things. You can tell her when you’re ready to, I just… You shouldn’t hide Sarah, Joel. She’s too important.” 

A few years ago he would have shut her down before she finished speaking. His expression would have hardened and his eyes would go dark and cold and he’d tell her that she was overstepping. But a lot had changed between the two of them in recent years. A lot had changed within them. So instead of immediately saying no, he swallowed, nodded, and said, “She is. You’re right, kiddo.” 

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Ellie shot finger guns at him. “Always am. And on that note-” Joel groaned. “I’m gonna go pass out for five hours. See you at dinner!” 

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[auguryofjellyfish]

OMG YOU SAW IT YAY!!

The whole time I was putting together that animatic I was like “oh that one Wada fan will hate or love this”- so glad you liked it

-@arithekitsune

'that one wada fan'…omg... bwahah! oh my gosh, thank you so much. i'm extremely flattered you were thinking of me. but, trust me, there are very few things that could make me dislike an artwork with wada in it, let alone hate. 95% of the time, it's much more likely for me to love wada art so much that I offer up my soul for it (which, I can't really do anymore, I already gave it up like 2 months ago..)

i really liked your animatic! it was so sweet and sad. you managed to convey just how alone wada's been throughout his life until he met tsuno. the love he felt towards isono was real, but what he had with tsuno was special because it was mutual- it was probably the most loving and caring, real relationship he's had in his life. the juxtaposition of him sitting in the closet, and him sitting next to tsuno's cold locker at the end… oww…both times, he was trapped... in a small space, and in a world without her.

and the way you drew that sweet newborn baby wada… 🥺🥺🥺 gently holds.. that little lock of hair peeking through... so adorable. what i've always been curious of are the earlier years of wada's life, starting with his birth onwards. there's this sketch von drew of wada as a child, he's wearing overalls with a duck on them and looks to be about 5. this got me thinking… because he seems fine in that drawing. his hair is cut, his clothes are neat. but that doesn't really mean much, not when we know his mom cared about appearances.

i just.. i wonder when it started. if he's been abused since the beginning, or if it's only gotten worse later on. it's hard to say because we don't know a lot about his parents, and why they treated wada so viciously in the first place. maybe it was due to the circumstances of his birth, they might not have wanted a child at all. maybe another factor was that they were prejudiced against him because of his albinism. or… what i've always theorized, maybe he's always been (at least emotionally) neglected, and they only started actively resenting and abusing him when he stopped being a cute baby doll, and started growing into an individual with his own personality, one which they didn't like at all. either way, it's not really possible to work out a definite answer right now, though i'd love to get it someday. still, fuck wadamama and wadadada.

as the last thing, i just wanted to mention that your kamiwadagawa art opened my 3rd eye RAHH!!!! for real, it's so good...i love the thought of the two guys who were dogging on him the most suddenly deciding that actually, he's their little guy now. i imagine kamimura one day being like, 'hey ken, i know we've been taking the piss out of wada since like, forever, but i was thinking and i uhh kinda wanna keep him', and ken responding with 'oh umm alright!', and here we are....ken and wada both being kamimura's little meow meows LMAO... anyway...kamiwadagawa is peak...

[wisteriasymphony]

so is claudia, like, kaworu, or?

It's difficult.

Chloe makes the most sense for Asuka personality-wise. The mommy issues, the ambition, the bullying of others to counter her own self-hatred. If I wasn't so stuck in my ways about Adrien and Chloe having a platonic relationship, maybe I'd entertain it, but as far as I'm concerned two blonde people together is an affront to god so I'd rather not. Maybe if she was forced into being a brunette I could trick myself into not puking at the idea.

Claudia does also fit the mommy issues and self hatred line, but she lacks the ambition that's central to Asuka. Still, she's at least willing to be an asshole for no reason, so she's a much better fit than Marinette and when it comes to how most people set it up, Marinette is the Asuka to Kagami's Rei. It's less of a personality thing and more to complete the Adrigaminette love triangle.

(I'll be honest, Claudia is also mostly the other pick because, as my own character, I don't feel nearly as weird writing about her in his particular context. Also, Claudrien is sufficiently toxic so it maps better to Asushin than Adrinette does. I don't know, Siluri made a good point that maybe more unpalatable lovesquare content would actually be a good thing, so maybe twisting Adrinette into something shitty and awful would be good for the environment.)

Claudia could definitely be Kaworu at least from the angle of "the one that definitely fucks up Shinji's life forever/the most tragic route", but at least vibes-wise Adrien also maps onto Kaworu well, so I hesitate. Clearly, the best option would be Shinji!Marinette, Asuka!Chloe, Rei!Kagami, and Kaworu!Adrien, but if we're working with Shinji!Adrien then things can easily get thrown out of wack to compensate.

Thinking of her as Misato is the funniest option (A. alcoholic B. unserious air about her C. daddy issues D. absolute mess E. commitment issues) if we ignore the fact that Misato and Shinji is. uh. what it is.

So yeah, let's go with Kaworu. I sketched out a Claudrien "You're worthy of my grace" scene a few months ago and I think they'd be cute in a situation like that.