#THAT'S WHY I'M H E R E
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Black T-Shirt + Sling | requested by Anonymous
#*gnawing on him*#Rick Grimes#*#rg#The Ones Who Live#*runs hand down his arm like it's a staircase bannister*#H A N D S#why do you get hands that are big and manly AND deft and elegant#that sounds like a crime#tbh#F O R E A R M S#yes biceps obv but forearms don't get the attention they deserve#also his arm hair but i'm not gonna be that weird right now#v e i n s#tag yourself i am under the desk#investing in those kneeling pads people who garden a lot use
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I’ll never forget you babes 😭💔😔🥺
I finally come back to tumblr and t h i s is what I see. That's it, I'm done, I'm uninstalling tumblr. Bye everyone, it's Honey's fault-
#For the l a s t freaking time#I am average height#A V E R A G E#WHICH MEANS; FOR YOU PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T DO WELL IN STATISTICS#THE TYPICAL OR CENTRAL VALUE WITHIN A SET OF DATA; AKA THE MEDIAN#Or you know#THE MOST C O M M O N VALUE. THE VALUE YOU'RE MOST LIKELY TO SEE#Checkmate#Also jokes on you#I'm way older than the expected lifespan this cursed screenshot shows#T h e r e f o r e#I ' m t h e p r i m o r d i a l o n e#Bow before me; for I transcend pathetic mortal comprehension#I transcend my o w n comprehension tbh#Go from “I can't string two sentences together” to “Oops; wrote a 14k one shot in the span of one day”#I am s o r r y for these tags. Who is reading them. Why am I writing so much; help me-
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I think the one thing we keep missing on when coming up with goth Amy Rose designs is that if Amy ever did go through a goth phase, she'd look like Draculaura from Monster High.
#amy rose#draculaura#monster high#sonic#op rambles#...listen- I'm not wrong#spooky season#I know I got an ask AGES ago when I was doing the 'choose your adventure' storytelling via asks and polls but-#the person was asking how Shadow would react if Amy went goth#the thing is- I think Shadow would love Amy no matter what fashion trend she decided for that week- that year- whatever#and I think Amy would loath fast fashion so that wouldn't even be of concern#hence why I had him answer the way he did#H O W E V E R#I do firmly believe that every time Shadow gets comfortable with Amy's beauty- she turns around in something different and he's all#'oh wow...' all over again
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Ash IG Story
#💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋😘💋💋#5sos#5 seconds of summer#ashton#ashton irwin#ai ig#instagram#kh4f post#😘🤸🏻♀️😭🥰😃💋🤪🫠🫨👰🏻♀️🥹🧘🏻♀️😌🙆🏻♀️🤩🤸🏻♀️#thank you for your time#also#why i no can kiss#that tag needs a comeback clearly#🧛🏻♀️#👹 the chest hair peeking over his collar 👹#👹 T 👹 H 👹 E 👹 B 👹 E 👹 A 👹 R 👹 D 👹#🤸🏻♀️ I'm 🤸🏻♀️ fine 🤸🏻♀️#blood on the drums
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landmark
pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 4.6k summary: [modern au] estinien meets io in a support group for grieving youths. set five years before this.
Estinien is early—the first one in the room, as usual, even before Counselor Miounne arrives. It’s part of the ritual.
Hit the lights and dim them to three-quarters. Turn on the fancy instant coffeemaker, make sure there are enough of those little fucking pods for everyone. Sugar and powdered creamer too. Music on, some unobtrusive classical harp thing he doesn’t care for. Then he arranges nine chairs in a loose circle and, selfishly, puts the least squeaky one in his spot across from the window.
It helps, to do these tasks before their sessions. The work allows him to mentally prepare for this, because when is it easy to circle death’s drain for two hours?
With the space set up, he slings his backpack over his claimed chair and waits.
They stroll into the meeting in ones and twos. They make their coffee, ask about their weeks (in the casual way, where you’re supposed to answer “fine” even if it wasn’t; the real answers will come later). Eventually, Miounne enters and everyone finds a seat.
He isn’t great with names, but he knows a few by now. Lyse, the one with the sister and dad, and one of the youngest members. Leofard, the one with the mom. He knows all the faces though, and the one hovering by the door is new.
She’s tall, but slouching a little, crossing her arms like she’s scared to take up space or trying not to be seen. Inky blue hair is piled into a loose bun on top of her head, with long wavy strands hanging around her freckled face. Her eyes are bloodshot, almost too focused. She must be new.
As he watches her, her gaze cuts over to him—
“Estinien,” Miounne calls. His attention snaps from the girl at the door to his counselor. “Another chair, please?”
“Yeah, sure.” He quickly grabs one from the nearest stack, looking for a decent place to put it. Two kids slide their chairs apart so he can fit this one between them. Right in front of the window.
He sits again and Miounne claps softly, still standing in the center of the circle.
“Hi friends,” she says, more gently than usual. “It’s been a while since we’ve welcomed a new face, hasn’t it? I know we’re all capable of extending warmth and patience to those who need it, so let’s be mindful of that as we welcome Io to our group, okay?”
She gestures to the door, beckoning the new girl in. Io. He’ll try to remember that. He wonders who she lost and when, and tries not to wonder how. The how never matters anyway. Gone is gone.
“Welcome to Haven: Youth Grief Counseling, Io. Take a seat, just there, sweetie.”
Io sits down and Estinien regrets this seating arrangement; he’s lost the window view. She glances around the circle, her polite smile is a tight line. Her eyes flick to him once more, then back to the floor.
Miounne sits too. She claps one more time and they begin.
Next week starts the same. His chin is in his hand, elbow propped on his bouncing knee as they arrive. Lyse. Leofard. New girl.
Leo takes his seat next to Estinien and leans over. Oh god.
“Estinien,” he whispers loud enough for almost everyone to hear. His eyes flash to the new girl making coffee by herself. “I found out what her deal is.”
“Happy for you,” Estinien says. That’s not his business. But he stupidly glances at Leo anyway.
“She’s like you. Total wipeout—we’re talking mom, dad, two younger siblings—about a year ago. Just now going back to school, apparently.” He looks at her again, taking a bold head-to-toe survey, and Estinien follows. She’s tall, willowy, and there’s something disciplined about her posture; the set of her shoulders feels intentional even in her depression slump. Her ears tilt, and he turns back around. Leofard is still staring. “Wonder what else she’s ready to get back into…” He winks at Estinien.
“Probably best to leave her alone. She’s not here to find a date,” he says.
Leo huffs in fake offense. “Well, neither am I but if it happens, it happens.”
A month passes, one week bleeding into the next, and Estinien is always early to Haven. But someone is earlier today, of all days. The door is open, the light is on, and the chairs are in their circle.
Io is waiting.
He remembers her name now. It’s easy to remember the girl who hasn’t said anything in five sessions. It’s unusual, but understandable; they’re all strangers to her, and if what Leofard said is true, he’s impressed she’s showing up at all.
Estinien recalls what his loss was like a fresh wound—the anger throbbing in his chest, sobbing his voice raw for days, not eating or sleeping. He wouldn’t speak to Alberic at first, either. It feels so childish to him now. But looking at her… those feelings echo in his chest, and he is sharply reminded that grief doesn’t shrink.
He shoots her a courtesy smile as he starts the coffeemaker and CD player.
“Sorry about the shitty music,” he says as the sound of softly plucked strings fills the space. When he looks over, she’s staring at the floor again, eyes wide—that awkward “what the fuck” face—and his stomach flips. He said something wrong.
Cool.
He takes his seat across from her, trying to bury the urge to wait on the bench just outside the room when his chair squeaks. Great. He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. To deal or not to deal? He is, unfortunately, too big for the noise to keep from happening and he can’t be annoyed for the next two hours. What does he care if she thinks he looks crazy?
He stands up and jostles the next chair, which is better but not great. He tries the next. Even worse.
“What are you doing?”
The rasp of her voice is so quiet that he doesn’t fully catch the words.
He looks up from the red plastic in his hand. “What?”
She looks like she wishes she’d not asked at all, rubbing a hand anxiously over her arm. She sighs. “With the chairs. What are you doing with the chairs?”
“Trying to find one that doesn’t squeak. I usually—”
“I took that one.” She glances up at him, grimacing, but there’s a light in her eyes. It’s the least miserable he’s seen her so far. She thinks this is funny. “Sorry. You can have it back.”
He puts a hand up when she stands. He’s not taking the chair from the sad girl. “Uh… no. No, you can take it. There’s probably another one that isn’t annoying as fuck, I’ll find it.”
“Then let me help you. It’s only fair, since I disturbed your whole—” she gestures slowly around the meeting room— “process.” God, her voice is in shreds.
He can’t say no when this is the first sign of life she’s shown in over a month, at least here. He nods. “Sure, if you want.”
They go through the chairs in the circle, then the others neatly stacked in the corner. They don’t really talk, besides simple directions: “I tried that one already,” and “will you pass me another,” and “holy shit, that’s the worst one yet.” Estinien is keenly aware of her shifting around him, slowly at first, and then with less hesitation. Finally, they find a chair that doesn’t creak when he sits or moves. It goes in his spot and they clean up the rest.
“Hey,” Io says, and the word is conspiratorial. She catches his gaze, and something about hers makes him feel like glass, like they almost know each other. Like he’s seen her before, a blurry smile littering the backgrounds of photos in the album he managed to salvage, only viewed in profile or half out of frame, obscured by the barely remembered vacation or birthday party in the foreground. He swallows as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a black marker. “Should we make sure we never lose these again?”
“Vandalism? In our therapy group?” He squints, shoving down the fondness she’s conjured in just a few minutes. “Do you even need to ask?”
She laughs, or tries to. It comes out weak and cracked as she crosses to his side of the circle and kneels beside him. She pops the cap off the marker. “It’s Estinien, right?”
He nods, “Yeah.”
“I’m Io. The other total wipeout”—she air quotes Leo’s label—“but you already knew that.” She scribbles a small “E” on the side of the chair then heads back over to her own, where she writes an “I.”
It’s almost time for group to start.
“Are you gonna talk about it today?” Estinien asks. It’s just them sitting directly across from one another, surrounded by empty chairs.
Io shrugs, and her body seems to fold in on itself. Making herself small again. “I don’t know. It’s hard to talk about it at all. I’ll try?”
“You don’t have to. But it does help, in a weird way.”
The others drift in at the usual leisurely pace, Miounne claps, and they begin.
First question: “How are you feeling today?”
They go in a circle starting at Miounne’s left. Some answers are simple, like Leo’s.
“Pretty good. I started planning a trip for fall break, somewhere I think Mom would’ve liked to see. I’m looking forward to telling you guys about the trouble I got into when I’m back.”
Sometimes there’s a follow-up, sometimes Miounne will let it hang. Estinien has no idea how she gauges that, but it feels right.
He’s third to answer.
How does he feel today? He picks at the frayed edge of a hole in his jeans.
“I’m kind of anxious today. I declared my major this year so everything feels… more real, I guess. I’m trying to study for a couple of tests next week but I read the page and it may as well be blank. Nothing sticks. I keep worrying I might…” He pauses. This is normally when he’d look out the window; when something heavy rises to the surface, it’s easier to look outside, but for five weeks, Io has been sitting in front of him. The broken habit means he shares less. But how can he encourage her if he can’t bend a little himself?
He looks up, and there she is—dark, curious, and strangely calming, her eyes burn a hole right through him. Behind her, the trees in the courtyard are starting to take on shades of autumn, gold and bronze intensified by the sunlight filtering through the leaves. It’s a view he can deal with. Io gives him an almost imperceptible nod.
“I worry I might let them down. It feels stupid to say out loud,” he laughs with a short snorted breath. “It’s always in the back of my mind though: what would they think of me now? What does this action mean to them? I guess it doesn’t mean anything and I should just study for the damn test so I can actually be someone they’d be proud of. Anyway… yeah, I’m anxious today.”
Miounne reclines a little in her seat. “Have you tried anything to help you study, to shift that focus on what your family would think towards something more current?”
He nods, looking from Io to Miounne. “Yeah, uh, I’ve asked a friend to join me. We’re going to try that today. He’s been pretty supportive since learning about all of this, and his grades are better than mine anyway. And I try to think about Alberic, my former guardian, I guess. I think he’d be proud of me no matter how I end up, so that helps.”
“Excellent,” she says, looking around at the others before spelling out the lesson. “Leaning on others is a great way to remind ourselves how loved and valued we are, especially when lower moods may make you want to isolate. Re-establishing bonds of friendship, or building new ones, helps bring your focus to just how strong your current support system is, or where it’s lacking. I think you’re doing that beautifully, Estinien. Thank you.”
He exhales, shying away from the praise and returning his focus to his frayed hem. Maybe that’s enough sharing for this week.
They keep going. Io is second to last, and though everyone expects silence by now, Miounne asks anyway.
“How are you feeling today, Io? Anything you want to share?”
He looks up again—will she actually say something today?—and she’s focused on him now. The room is empty again, except for the two of them in the empty circle. Fresh sharpie smell rising from their initials on the chairs.
“Hey,” she says, raising her hand in a little wave. “Sorry for being weird. I’m trying.”
“No such thing as weird in this room,” Miounne offers.
Io doesn’t look away from Estinien. She brushes a stray lock of hair from her eyes, and the tiniest hint of a smile pulls at the corners of her lips.
“I’m feeling okay today. As okay as I think I can feel right now, anyway. I cleaned my apartment this morning. And I’ve been working really hard on a piece for my school’s symphony showcase before fall break. I even invited some friends I haven’t talked to in… too long.”
“That’s wonderful, Io!” Miounne leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I read you major in music at RSU? What do you play?”
Her eyes fall to her lap. “Pedal harp. Mostly classical, but sometimes I make arrangements of new music, for fun.”
Shit.
“Thank you for sharing today, Io. We appreciate the opportunity to get to know you.” Miounne moves on, and so does everyone else.
But Estinien is stuck on this one thing. His stomach ties itself in a knot. Without knowing, he insulted her, and then she helped him with the stupid chairs… And it doesn’t even matter, because she doesn’t know him. They don’t go to the same university, and the only things they have in common are their dead families and the two hours a week they spend in this room. He has no notions of being friends with her, and definitely nothing like what Leofard has in mind. Still, he can’t stop it gnawing at him.
The session wraps and he approaches Io before she leaves.
“Io?”
She turns to him, for once standing at her full height, and they’re almost eye to eye. The almost-smile is back, and that gnaws at him too. “Hey, thanks for the nudge earlier. You were right.”
“Yeah, well,” He fidgets with his keys. “I’m sorry for calling the music shitty. I didn’t know harp was, like, a thing for you.”
Her laugh is stronger than before. “Wait, are you serious? You had no way to know that, and I’m not the music police. You don’t have to like it.”
He shrugs. “Still not a cool thing to say. I mean, I only really know it from this place anyway.”
“Would you… want to come to my concert?” She asks slowly, then shakes her head. “That might be dumb. That’s all the way across town and we basically just met. I—”
A strand of hair falls into her eyes and his fingers twitch as she tucks it in with the rest. She’s still rambling when the words rush out of him before he considers them.
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
“—Oh.” Wide, surprised eyes blink up at him. “Okay, great! You can bring a friend, or a date, or whatever. I’ll bring tickets for you next week?”
Estinien pockets his keys. “Sure. I’ll see you then.” Despite his clumsy apology to someone who may as well be a stranger, as Io leaves, he feels the same wave of nostalgia from earlier. Some things are true no matter how you fight them.
Estinien enters his dorm with two tickets in hand. Keys in the bowl by the door, backpack under his desk, shoes in the closet. He falls onto his bed with a little bounce, holding the shiny slips of paper up to the light.
“What took you so long?” Aymeric asks from his bed on the other side of the room. He’s reclined on a few pillows, and it looks like he’s alternating between two books. “I’m starving.”
Estinien shrugs. “Got caught up talking to someone after the session. She invited me to her concert in a couple of weeks. Wanna go?” He holds the tickets out for Aymeric’s inspection.
He looks them over, brows raising in slight surprise. “You actually want to go to this?”
“I don’t know, but I said I would.” Estinien sits up. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“Is she cute, whoever she is?” Aymeric lazily passes the tickets across the canyon between their beds. “Can’t see why you’d want to go otherwise. I mean, I definitely want to go, it sounds kind of fancy, but you… Hmm.”
“Shut up,” he laughs. There are other reasons, but the most important is making amends for being a dick, even by accident. “Her name is Io. She’s nice, seems cool now that she talks. She’s new to the group.”
“We can go, but you didn’t answer the question.”
“Look, it’s nothing like that. She even said I could bring a date.” Estinien places the tickets in his nightstand drawer, regretting the decision to ask for company.
Aymeric shakes his head and returns to his reading. “You poor, sad muppet. Order a pizza already.”
They stand outside the theater in their untucked button-downs over jeans. Estinien hasn’t been on this campus before, but Aymeric has; thanks to an on-again-off-again thing with some miqo’te guy who goes here, they were able to find the place quickly.
“Are we meeting her before the show?” Ayms asks, scanning the crowd. He’s been eager to learn more about Io in the days leading up to this.
“Nah, she’s backstage, but said I could text her after. It’ll be quick. She has other friends coming, so I’ll just say hi.” It sounds simple enough, but anxiety prickles across his chest.
Inside, they find their seats in the front row of the balcony—a surprisingly nice view.
“Not bad,” Aymeric admires the architecture, comparing things to this venue to the one on their campus, but Estinien hasn’t been in that one either. He only catches half of what’s said, eyes focused on the stage. Aymeric nudges him with an elbow. “She’s the harpist, right?”
He nods. “Yeah, she has a solo at some point.” He rubs his hands on his jeans, sitting forward in the seat a little as the lights go down and the musicians file onto the stage.
“Relax,” Aymeric whispers. “You might enjoy it if you chill out. Look, there she is.”
He points through the dark as she approaches the harp in the back center, almost directly in front of him, and he’s reminded of how they sit during Haven. She’s wearing long black boots and a short dress of the same color, with loose sleeves he can see through. Her hair is down tonight, but pulled back from her face. She’s pretty, even from here.
“Whoa.” Aymeric sits forward too. “You couldn’t just say she’s cute, could you?”
“I told you, it’s not like that. She just lost her fami—”
“SHH!”
Aymeric’s smile is infuriating, cradling his chin in his hand. Estinien shoots him a dark look, then passes a hand over his face as anxiety twists into hot embarrassment, thankful for the darkness as the music starts.
And it’s the music he can’t look away from. There’s more movement in it than he expected, a rawness the CDs or digital streams just don’t portray. Everyone is working to build part of a whole, and each of them can be heard in the larger sound.
Then there is Io.
Admittedly, his experience is limited, but he’s never seen her like this. Every motion is fluid, yet deliberate, even while supporting such a heavy-looking instrument. She is focused, on her hands, on the sheet music in front of her, on the others playing around her. And she looks… serene. Happy.
The tempo slows during the fourth song and a godlight falls on her, a little spot of brightness that eclipses all else. Her solo. Estinien holds his breath.
She builds suspense with sound, then her hands move faster than he can make sense of. Sometimes she places a hand flat against the strings to still them, and that is what hollows out his chest. The elegant control in what he thought was so simple. This is nothing like the CD in their support group. He could listen to this forever.
The rest of the orchestra gradually rises around her until the lights on them lift once more. He might be disappointed if the whole thing didn’t work so well. They bring the song to a close, then stand to take their bows while the audience applauds.
Estinien pulls out his phone. He’s supposed to text her, but how does he follow that? Aymeric hovers over his shoulder, watching him type and delete the same sentence three times.
“What do I say?”
Aymeric rests his chin on Estinien’s shoulder, loudly um-ing and ah-ing, and he almost regrets asking. “How about this: ‘Loved the show. I’m still around if you want to meet up.’ Simple, right? And contextually open-ended, in the unlikely case you get a grip.”
He rolls his eyes but types and sends it while she’s still on stage. It’s several minutes after the musicians exit the stage that he gets a reply: “I’m so glad you came! Take the exit to the left and the door immediately to the right, and tell the attendant you’re with me, see you soon!”
They follow the instructions to a cramped backstage area. People are carrying flowers. Should he have brought flowers? Too late now.
They wander the crowd aimlessly, and his anxiety creeps in with each passing second. There’s a touch at his elbow, light but guiding.
“Estinien,” Io’s voice. Her quiet rasp is familiar to him now, and she sounds far more healthy than when she first spoke to him. He turns to her, and she beams. “Thank you for coming!”
He isn’t sure what to do, and he has no token of congratulations to give her. “Thanks for inviting me. Inviting us, I guess.”
“Us?” Io looks over his shoulder, where Aymeric is practically buzzing as he waits to be introduced.
Ayms extends a hand, “Io, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you—”
“He asked constantly. I didn’t want to tell him anything—”
“—and it’s nice being able to put a beautiful face to a beautiful name.”
Estinien covers his face with his hands. “A merciful god would’ve killed me by now.”
Io accepts the handshake, “And you are?”
“Aymeric. Estinien’s roommate and, because he won’t say it out loud, his best friend.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Aymeric. I’m glad you guys came; I know it’s a big ask and it’s not everyone’s taste but—”
“It was amazing,” Estinien’s mouth moves before his mind catches up, something that seems to be common in her presence. Io and Aymeric stare at him, brows lifting in unison. Her neck has flushed red. “I just… didn’t know what to expect, but it was impressive.”
Io’s half-smile, the one he’s learning she wears when she’s nervous, lifts the corner of her lips. “Thank you. I wasn’t trying to change your life or anything. I just thought it’d be cool to show you what I do, and maybe get to know you better too. You know, the “bonds” Miounne is always talking about.”
“Io!” A group of people call out from several feet behind them, waving her over.
She waves to them, then turns to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, those are my friends. I’ll be right back.” He watches as she walks away and they sweep her into a noisy group hug.
“Dude,” Aymeric whispers, “Should I go? Do you want me to go?”
“Go where?”
“Go! Home!”
Estinien glances back at Io, and her friends are definitely looking over at them. “And leave me with them?”
Ayms grimaces, balling his hands into fists. “With her!”
Estinien shakes his head. “No, just give me a second and we can both go.” Aymeric silently fakes a scream.
Io returns, wringing her hands as she says, “We’re going to grab some dinner from a place nearby; you guys are welcome to join us.”
He hesitates. Maybe Aymeric is right and he should stay, or maybe assuming someone working through her grief wants anything more than a friendship with him is not in either of their best interests. “We should probably get back. We’ve both got to pack before break starts.”
Io’s expression dampens. “Oh, okay. Well, thanks again for coming out. I’ll see you at Haven in a couple of weeks?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “See you there.”
Estinien turns on the light and adjusts the dimmer. It’s been a while since he’s been first, but Io shows up right after him.
“Hey,” she says quietly, heading to the CD player while he starts the coffee maker. The ritual is no longer just his.
“Hi.” He’s rummaging through the cabinet beneath the coffee station, gathering the supplies, when she starts the music. It’s not their usual instrumental album… “This is from your concert?”
She starts on the chairs. “I hope it’s okay. I emailed Miounne when I got the recording to ask if I could bring it in, to show everyone what I’ve been working on and that I’m kind of normal outside of all this. But I can switch it back, if you’d rather keep the routine.”
His eyes fall closed and he is back in the theater, watching her play in a beam of light, arms unfurling around the strings like flightless wings and he doesn’t think “normal” is a good description of her at all.
“Estinien?”
He opens his eyes.
“No, this is fine.” He stands and arranges the little coffee bar. “I meant it. I thought it was great.”
“That’s a relief,” she laughs a little. “I mean, I believed you, but…”
He frees the rest of the chairs from their neat stack. Their initials are on the last two. He passes her the “I.”
“But what?”
Io crosses her arms behind her chair, bites her lip. The early evening sun illuminates the courtyard, and as it streams through the window little specks of its light catch in her hair. “I don’t know, I always feel nervous trying to make friends.”
Ah.
It’s like he thought. He can tell Aymeric once and for all there’s nothing else going on here. Which is fine, of course. It’s fine. He wants to learn more about her, and let her get to know him too. He doesn’t have a ton, but he thinks he’s a decent friend. He could be a good friend to Io.
“Yeah,” he says, ignoring the heavy, unnameable thing settling in his stomach. “Me too. But it kind of feels like we’re already friends, right? So don’t worry about it too much.”
Io’s smile pokes through her bitten lip as she takes her seat across from him, the sun at her back. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
She is still smiling when everyone joins them, when the session begins, when Miounne asks how she’s feeling today, and when she bids him goodbye with the promise to text him this week. He knows because he can’t help but look at her.
Some things are true no matter how you fight them.
#azia writes#io/estinien#io laithe#estinien varlineau#okay well. i'm throwing this out there#you may ask 'azia why do they not have a cute solo hang prior to the 'we're pals' thing?'#and i think io's initial crush would've simply been unignorable in that instance#and now esti will have some amount of plausible deniability for both their feelings :>#he's able to say 'i told you so' not only to aymeric but himself as well#but the thing is. estinien is RIGHT. this is not a good time or situation for them to even consider dating each other#like he's not great about expressing why but he *knows* why#mentally he's doing okay at this time but io is... not. she does need friends right now. and they are in therapy t o g e t h e r#that'd be so fucked. he's right to kind of distance himself from the idea of it. but then that distance just. continues indefinitely lmao#okay bye. enough director's commentary
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I'm watching Pawnstars and they have one of Harry Houdini's straight jackets.
That's the first thing that's really excited me. That's actually so damn cool. Oh my goodness. This is something I'd geek out over XDD
#i dont understand though why rick wants it repaired#w h y o n e a r t h would you want to make a cool old thing NEW?#oh no no no. those could be h a r r y h o u d i n i ' s scuffs. h i s tears.#you keep those!!!#even if they're just from age and not hh's fault- if you clean it up i feel like you're taking history away from it#i'm sorry- would you replace the strings on a guitar that jimmy hendrix played??#would you fill in the bullet holes in Bonnie & Clyde's ford getaway car???#nooooo no no no#those are the things that sit you close to another time! 😅#and a harry houdini s t r a i g h t j a c k e t?? that is the coolest thing
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10 minutes left before I turn a year older and what did I do?
I ordered myself a lightsaber. ah yiss
#about me#2024 mood#Batuu Bounding#I've been planning on doing Savi's on our Batuu trip but I'm just not feeling the saber hilts themselves#I want something sleek and fairly smooth and relatively light that I can spin with#that is so not what's going on with the Savi's sabers#so just as we're getting down to the wire here I thought why not look online and see what's out there that more matches my vision#and I found one on Amazon. that can arrive on Sunday. that checks all the boxes of what I was looking for#and it's like. a quarter the price of Savi's#I have heard only wonderful things about the Savi's *experience* but mixed things on the sabers themselves#when I started out on this plan to Batuu-bound for my birthday Savi's sounded like a fun addition to the day#but since then I've come up with a whole Star Wars character with a backstory and a personality and a LIFE#and Savi's is not her path. absolute respect and love to everyone (including my family members) for whom Savi's was the right choice#but I am E X C I T E about the saber I picked out#not sure if I'll take the blade to Disney with me but I'm going to try to rig up the hilt to attach to my belt at least#see kids? getting older is really just about being able to buy yourself the toys you wanted as a kid#with no one to tell you no#and if you're lucky a supportive spouse who yells DO IT! when you doublecheck your instincts lol#hey one minute to go until b i r t h d a y
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𝐎𝐎𝐂; I apparently only posted this when it was a WIP couple of years ago but never posted the 'finished' greyscale piece so I am posting here now just to share... Vaedar and his winged baby, Azaes.
#i have such an intense need to draw but when i sit down to do that....#ofc i am interrupted and it breaks the moment and i get so stressed#and i can feel how am associating the drawing with stress which is not good at all just because i can't sit down to focus on drawing#it's a vicious cycle that i am constantly working through but lately all i can do is quick line arts and always using refs#cuz that's all the time i can make for with as less interruptions as possible... it why i'm gravitating to writing over drawing cuz#dont mind the interruptions as much while writing cuz it easier it doesn't require as much focus as drawing for me#i dont have trouble i think with line art cuz that's what i can do quick but i need a lot of practice for greyscale and color#which is what requires most focus and rhythm.. but i will not give up ok drawing is when i feel alive#but wow yes anyway i rambled am sorry xD just have vae and his big dragon bby#[ d r a g o n l o r d ] vaedar#[ f i r e made f l e s h ] dragons#gallery#mine
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Oh my, how sweet! Resident darling of this dark and spooky little cul-de-sac wants to go trick 'r treat with you. Just beware, neighbor... not all the residents are as friendly as he is. 😈
Little quick redesign of Imp Wally inspired by @killertoons design, since my old design just wasn't as cute and I personally feel I've gotten better at drawing Wally! I had to of course add Home, or rather Monster House inspired home and I had a lot of fun experimenting with a more detailed background in a doodle that turned into a thought out sketch. My reference actually, was this piece of Sam merch I WANT SO BAD......
#SAM TRICK R TREAT MY BELOVED#and I already have seen a lot of people jump onboard a halloween AU when I was writing the draft in like september X'D#I was also inspired by the one comic someone did of like. all the neighbors getting changed into monsters#there's a lot of other similar ones I've seen on tiktok too#but to save my pride I'm gonna say I flushed mine out because it has more of a story hehe X'D#I have a whole pinterest board dedicated to this thang!!!#I might draw a full sketch of barnaby too maybe.#next to poppy he's got of my fave design concept sketches#and fun fact! I finished this the day of friday the 13th and later would be the surprise update we go to the welcome home site!!! :D#pretty lucky if I say so!#also clown wasn't kidding this puppet series would be a horror project after all BECAUSE WHO ELSE JUMPED AT THE BOO TO YOU STORY#WHY IS THERE A NARRATOR WUH-#WHY DO THEY H E A R THE NARRATOR-#Pawz Draws! 🐾🖌️✏️#welcome home puppet show#wally darling#welcome home fanart#welcome home au#Haunted Home AU#Imp Wally#Halloween#traditional art#traditional drawing#cute art
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I just wrote a very long rant and deleted it again but!! if any of you EVER have even a tiny bit of imposter syndrome when it comes to academic writing I am very happy to inform you that you absolutely do not need any of that, because as I've witnessed countless times by now, even some professors (especially professors) do not know how to use citation software but will also refuse to put any bibliographic information into the WIP document, and instead rely on their asistant's psychic powers to figure out what needs to go into the bibliography of their texts.
#rant#ramblings#like i'M BEGGING YOU AT LEAST GIVE ME THE TITLE OF THE TEXT OR THE PLACE OF PUBLICATION#just the author's name and a year is NOT ENOUGH with most authors 😭#i'm so fucking frustrated like why why WHY WOULD YOU NOT JUST COPY PASTE THE INFO INTO THE DOC#you must have had the info at one point when u looked the reference text up???#just copy it into the doc#and what makes it even worse is that we all have access to a citation software that I KNOW she sometimes uses#but not consistently and then it's just pure chaos#how does she expect me to do my job of editing the bibliography when T h e r e I s N o F u c k i n g B i b l i o g r a p h y#life in academia
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#this is mesmerizing to me ok#ok#Andrew Lincoln#*#andygifs#F O R E A R M S#pls#why do rolled up sleeves have so much power we just don't know#H A N D S#also his arm hair but i'm not gonna be that weird right now#would run my hand down his arm like it's a stair railing
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broke: whitney stood up for the Real Truth of the jd/ah relationship on the stand, and is totally the reason ALL amber's wildass stories should be believed
slightly less broke: whitney lied on the stand for her sister and should be shamed and hated for betraying jd
woke: whitney lied for her sister on the stand and should be sympathized with for being trapped with a crazy sister and still standing up for her
bespoke: whitney tried to lie for her sister on the stand but she's just so damn grateful to be talking to someone Sane on cross that she's happier being impeached than she was telling """her side""" of the story
#jd vs ah //#hallie speaks#THIS POOR WOMAN I'M CRYING#WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME THIS#SAVE HER#i figured she'd be like. completely in cahoots wth amber over it but NO#someone polite asks her kind questions with uncomfortable truths and she's like 🥺🥺🥺#s a v e h e r
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Dear tumblr, STOP PUTTING STUFF IN THE TAGS I FOLLOW TAB THAT HAS N O T H I N G TO DO WITH THE TAGS I FOLLOW
#first it was from series where a character shares a name with a characzer from a diff fandom I'm in#understandable#but w h y am I seeing stuff that is totally unrelated#no hate to those things it's jusz weird#pretty much all the tags I follow are just fandom#so why did I get a post about marine biology in the 'tags you follow' tab?#tumblr explain#yk maybe I'm like the only person who uses that tab but I am content hungry my own dashboard isn't enough i want m o r e
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so, it's been a while since i've thought-dumped/rambled, so here we go!
i'mma put this under the cut. this is gonna be long.
highschool is ridiculously fucking busy, and i have no idea why- but now i have theater. lots of theater. in fact, theater has taken up my entire life.
dancy dance dance- i got new tap shoes, so now i have five different pairs, and i'm so goddamn happy about it--
guess who wrote a new thing? me. me wrote new thing. and hkjlSDL:JKF ITS SO CHAOTIC-
i drew seveVERAL new refs for different things, but i refuse to post any of them until they actually look gOOD
SO I LEARNED HOW TO USE OIL PASTELS???? AND OMG?????? THEY'RE FUN???????
dry pastels are freaking messy. it's kinda weird, but fun.
i'm still a simp, just a bit more hardcore now!
i've been scrolling through my google docs for days and i still can't find a single wip from forever ago that i understand--
taylor and tach. holy shit. i forgot about them.
so i made this new girl, rei. she's. she's scary.
i think i've improved?? a little?? i'm still not as well trained as any of my friends (COUGH COUGH MUTUALS COUGH COUGH) but now i use refs!
i broke. three pairs. of glasses.
ajr kinda slaps bro-
beatsaber kinda slaps bro-
douglas adams more than complete hitchiker's guide to the galaxy. say that five times fast. >:D
#patented fluff ramble#how do i post again??#how doeeS THIS WORK-#HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TYPE--#WHY IS TUMBLR SO S T R A N G E#i think i might've changed??? a lot?????#maybe just my conversation style or smth???? but damn i'm different#i'm a little more dark now mbb#but also not. because cHAOS#IMMA DRAW EV E R Y S I N G L E O N E OF MY FRENS OCS#ALL OF T H E M
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things to do (that i decided need to be done at 11:52 a.m.);
find that black shirt with the good texture
how draw clothe?? figure out
organize that one playlist
write, if fortune is kind
find music to lose my mind to at 3 a.m. so i can actually write for once
reread old draft
start sketch
make new sketch, last one sucked
work on anatomy
stare at art i like until my brain melts and i absorb the Vibes
#just me hi#hiiiiii it's 11:57 now#//i have like 2 black shirts with nice stretchy textures and i luv them#one of them is tighter the other one's more drapey and they both feel very Gender to me :)#//holy shizzle how do people draw clothes like that. woah dude what th. woah man waoh#the answer is probably Real Life References but. auhghuh.#//the blu3 space playlist is a Mess (a mess that i haven't tried to listen to since the first/last time cuz the vibes were Disorganized if#u knoy wadda mean) so i Need to work on it buuuuttttttttttttttt#i dun wanna but also i really need to cuz i. well idk why but i'll figure that out later#//holy frizzle i haven't opened word in like. at least a minute [i t ' s b e e n l i k e t h r e e w e e k s-]#i really gotta get on that. [lays down and ignores the world AND my little fantasies]#really though new music that makes my entire system go 4000 mach always gets me making stuff lol#just gotta figure out how to concentrate that into pure undisturbable focus ;v;#//just remembered an older writing thing from like. idk when but i DO remember it was fun to write and i disappoint myself every time i#reread and it isn't finished </3#//art art ar ta rta rta ar ta rt ar tr ar ta r ta tra t a tr a t a tart ar t rat ar t art ar t art a rt a tr at ra ta#i'm so lukewarm to it right now auhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ;=;#didn't mean to put a = but ykno what#//how. how body ? i haven't studied the actual human form Ever and i feel like that fact stares me in the eyes every time i draw hbvka#//anyway. also [telepathically beaming Something at all the cool art i see]#that is all#it's 12:08 now lol i think my leetol Brayn is melting
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Oh right. That's why I never followed this person huh
#“fake deep”#not taking region design advice from ppl who think h/g/s/s is peak either#sure Jan why is your postgame afraid of letting me fight anyone over lv 30#I am so glad I have the good instinct to scout out bad takes before following#also the answer is Special. easily the most faux mature and actually the overrated one out of the bunch#reading it as an adult it has noooot held up#also I will never figure out why ppl hate O/R/A/S so much#as much as I adore R/S/E those games did need a revamp at least in its character and story which was done p well!#I fully get why ppl dislike b/d/sp even if I'm one of 3.6 ppl alive who thinks it's Just Ok and not the worst thing ever#but O/R/A/S? pretty inoffensive imo
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