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fictional-men-enthusiast · 2 years ago

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That face when

When your human has to go back to the nasty work place and they can’t watch the underwater show with you anymore

#happy meat farms #don’t feed the muse #alex bale arg #spongebob theory arg #digital art #artists on tumblr #barlow’s doodle collection

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clxser · 3 years ago

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〔 alisha wainwright, 28, cis woman, she/her ) maria-jane barlow was seen listening to chiquitita by abba. MJ is a barista & artist and known to be kind-hearted & self-effacing. ( rosie, 22, gmt, she/they )

further information under the cut;

TW: Mentions of pregnancy & birth, discussions of the diagnosis & symtpoms of MS, mentions of a head injury, mentions of hospitals

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Maria-Jane Barlow

NICKNAME(S): MJ

BIRTH DATE: March 11th

AGE: 28

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Pisces

GENDER: Cis Woman

PRONOUNS: She/Her

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

OCCUPATION: Barista at Partners In Crime & Freelance Artist

BACKGROUND:

BIRTH PLACE: TBD

HOMETOWN: Huntsville

PARENTS: Samuel Barlow & [TBC] Lee

SIBLING(S): Harley Lee (Half-sibling)

CHILDREN: None

PET(S): None

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: Niece/Nephew

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS:

FACE CLAIM: Alisha Wainwright

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Black

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: None

DOMINANT HAND: Right

HEIGHT: 5’4”

BUILD: Slim, toned

TATTOOS: None

PIERCINGS: Both earlobes

MARKS/SCARS: None

NOTABLE FEATURES: N/A

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

POSITIVE: Devoted, diplomatic, artistic

NEGATIVE: Timid, indecisive, impressionable

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

MBTI: INFP-T

TEMPERMENT: Phlegmatic

EXTRAS:

HOBBIES: Painting, drawing, hiking

HIDDEN TALENT(S): She taught herself to do the splits when she was young, and never quite lost the knack

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: Winning an art contest in high school

BIGGEST REGRET: Planning to run away

MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: When she sat in a paint palette without realising and walked around with paint butt all day

FAVORITE MEMORY: Her first kiss BIOGRAPHY:

MJ wasn’t planned, but she never felt that way. The very definition of a happy accident, she grew up knowing her parents weren’t one another’s soulmate, and that was just fine - they loved her all the same, each at a respectable difference from the other. For most of the year, she stayed with her mom, but she rang in every summer with a trip to Huntsville. Those two weeks always felt like a little pocket away from all the doldrums of school, homework, and anything aside from fingerpainting and rambling through the woods.

She was 5 when Harley was born, and to her own dismay, she doesn’t remember the day herself. At least she has the picture her mom took that day of her holding the tiny bundle of blankets in her arms, with the biggest, toothiest smile she could muster. It wasn’t as though they never fought - they were siblings after all - but MJ loved Harley more than most things in her life. She was a quiet little girl, friends didn’t come too easily, but she prided herself on being a good big sister.

She wasn’t the most popular, but there were other kids around who liked her sunny disposition. Her knack for art became obvious pretty early on, from doodles of flowers in the margins of her homework, to collages of leaves she’d collect in the autumn. It was flora first, then fauna, then people, then big, sweeping landscapes, lively scenes and quiet ones, evocative pieces that, even with her apparent youthful lack of talent, held potential. She was every art teacher’s favourite.

The summer after MJ finished middle school, she went to visit her father like usual, only things were different. It was just a few little things, ones she didn’t notice at the time, but would seem all too telling later. He had to take more breaks than usual when they went hiking, he’d drop things every now and then, and he just seemed gloomier than usual. When she pointed it out, he had little more to say than he was overdue a check-up, and that it wasn’t something he wanted to worry about until she was headed home.

Just two weeks after she got home, after a long day out at the pool with her little sister in tow and a few friends, MJ came home to the exceedingly rare sound of her mother in tears. It was only once they’d put Harley to bed that they talked about it, that her mother explained multiple sclerosis, and not only what it could mean for her father’s future, but also for hers. They wouldn’t know for a little while how quickly the condition might progress, or what effects it might have on his health along the line, or how well he’d be able to look after MJ in just a few years time. MJ, meanwhile, could only wonder who was going to look after him.

The conversations she had with her mother about the issue were fraught. She wasn’t a fighter, but she was the only one in her corner - her mother wanted her to stay, Harley was just confused and frightened by the whole thing, and her father seemed to feel selfish for even considering it. Still, for one of very few times in her life she pushed - really pushed - and come the start of the fall semester, she was enrolled in Huntsville High School and living with her father.

It was hard, at first. Most days were okay, but those little moments where her dad seemed to suffer were scary, and leaving Harley behind was painful. She’d never quite shake that guilt for good, but she soothed the ache with almost nightly calls home and art. More art, always art. Her pieces shifted and grew with her, they took on every slow swirl of melancholy and each jagged edge of her fear. A new style started to take its form, and she bolstered it everywhere she could, at her new home and in her new school’s art room.

At school, she also met another major figure in her life, (WC!) Their romance was slow, born from two years of firm friendship and long talks over art, about her life, what they wanted from it and what they’d love to change. (WC) wasn’t all that happy at home, it seemed, and while they kept that from most of the world, they’d lost their ability to hide from MJ altogether by their sophomore year. She saw their pain, and just like every other pain she saw in her life, she ached to fix it.

Their plan was simple, if a little naive. Running away together was exactly what a couple of teens in love would do, wasn’t it? She wanted to give them an escape, and they wanted to give her the world. It made sense. MJ had mixed feelings about leaving her father behind, but he was coping well with few symptoms besides his fatigue, and they had her convinced she could afford to do something for herself, for once. Their bus tickets were booked for after their graduation party, and she’d written a note for her father, hoping he’d understand, and that he’d open his world up to the other people who wanted to help him, just as she did.

That plan stopped dead when she returned home from the party, ready to leave the note behind, only to find her father lying askew on the kitchen floor. Apparently, he’d decided to change the lightbulb by himself, and experienced a dizzy spell atop of a stepladder that resulted in a nasty bump to the head, and the shock of MJ’s life. She wasn’t leaving. She couldn’t. Thankfully her father sustained little more than a mild concussion from the fall, but it wasn’t entirely good news. With his symptoms evidently growing more serious, and an apparent weakening of his muscles, he might need more thorough care, potentially even a live-in nurse. MJ wasn’t going anywhere - not for a long while. When she told (WC) this, they weren’t thrilled, but they understood. Even though her father saw them as a bad influence, they knew what he meant to MJ. They would wait, they said, as long as they needed, until she could arrange full-time care her father was comfortable with, or the treatments he tried got him to a place where he seemed stable enough to rely simply on occasional home-visits.

It gave them time to save up, anyway. They could do more that way, see some of the world and pursue more of their dreams. It was perfect.

Then Harley arrived, bawling on their doorstep, and MJ knew she’d never leave her little sister by herself again. She was pregnant, she said, once she was finally calm enough for it - and she didn’t know what to do. MJ did - sort of. Harley could stay in Huntsville with her and her father, who was perfectly welcoming, as long as they wanted to. She could up her hours and make her job full-time if Harley could pitch in around the house a little, she could support them. She had to.

Telling (WC) this, however, didn’t go so smoothly. They were done, finally - they couldn’t wait for her anymore to escape. MJ understood, teary-eyed as she was, that they’d put their escape on hold for her long enough already. Five years after they’d initially planned to leave together, they left alone, and MJ stuck by her sister’s side.

It was okay. She was okay. Her father, Harley, and the baby were all she needed to worry about - everything else came second. On the fateful day that Harley gave birth of course MJ was there, with a brand new picture to frame of a blanketed bundle in her arms, and a toothy grin on her face.

Life went on, and things got easier. Harley worked and studied, and MJ was infinitely proud of them for heading to college - and she was more than happy to watch the baby whenever she could, with her father pitching in here and there as well. They were an unconventional, but happy family. Maybe MJ would never end up in museums, or painting the wonders of the world, but she had more than enough to be happy.

#about: ᵐʲ #sero.intro

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hiddeninflame · 3 years ago

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A little writing exercise I’m doing is writing drabbles and posting them up here.

‘McGraw. That’s very Scottish.’ Silver leaned back in the chair, fingers skimming the pages of a book.

Closing the cabin door behind him, Flint raised his brows and tried to hide his amusement at seeing Silver pretend that he wasn’t just a little bit afraid of him, still. ‘What are you talking about?’

Silver raised the book to show him. ‘Property of one James McGraw. Found it on your shelf over there.’ He waved at the small collection of books Flint could no longer leave at Miranda’s empty house.

All amusement fell from Flint’s features, the hard line of his jaw tensing as he watched Silver manhandle that book. It was no Marcus Aurelius but it was still something. And Flint had a choice to make: play along or react. One would tell Silver all he needed, baring James to him in a way he was wholly uncomfortable with. He didn’t know what the other would do and that was more terrifying than being seen.

Jamming his thumbs in his belt, Flint stared at Silver, unimpressed. ‘I didn’t invite you to look at my things.’

‘You always tell me to read a book. Now you’re upset that I’m actually taking your advice?’ Silver looked up at him with mock disbelief. But that expression changed as he stared at Flint, awareness dawning on him. ‘You never told me how you became a pirate.’

‘I can say the same for you.’ Flint pulled the book from Silver’s hands and returned it to its home on the bookshelf.

‘Who was James McGraw to you?’

Flint scowled at him as he motioned for Silver to get out of his chair. ‘That’s none of your concern.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Silver grunted as he forced himself onto his one good leg and used the desk to support his journey to the window seat. ‘As your Quartermaster, I’m supposed to protect you from them.’ He gestured to the door, indicating that he was referring to the crew. ‘How exactly am I supposed to do that without knowing the full story?’

Flint took up his place in his chair and leaned back, shedding the weight of two days without real rest. ‘Because that’s not your job.’ He closed his eyes and pinched his brows. ‘Your responsibility is to ensure the crew are content. I can protect myself.’

‘Ignoring all evidence to the contrary,’ Silver said leaning forwards. ‘But this is The Walrus. And what we’re planning to do is more than mere piracy.’ He stared at Flint for another long moment before he said, ‘I’m certain Gates and Mrs Barlow knew who James McGraw is.’

Releasing a heavy sigh, Flint opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Silver. ‘It’s just a name. It bears no meaning.’ It was the biggest lie he had told, yet. And the only one that Silver dismissed out of hand. The way Flint had reacted to that book told him that the little boy who’d doodled in those pages meant something.

‘Childhood friend?’ Silver said, watching for any flicker of recognition on Flint’s face. ��Godson?’ He received nothing but a glare of disbelief and agitation. ‘Brother?’

‘Stop.’

‘What’s so bad about me knowing?’ Silver laughed in disbelief, sitting back. ‘If you’re right and James McGraw is no threat, then there’ll be no harm in knowing. And if he is, I’d rather I did.’

Flint rubbed his beard, half considering throttling Silver and being done with it. But reason won out and he decided to let his Quartermaster live. ‘Get out,’ he said, his tone dark.

‘But-’

‘Get out.’

‘I can’t help you if you keep things from me,’ Silver said as he forced himself back onto his foot. The grim mood between them hung thick in the air as he limped out, unsupported by anything but furniture. Flint knew he wouldn’t drop the issue, now. But at least this would give him time to prepare for it.

Standing, Flint returned to the bookshelf and withdrew Le Morte d’Arthur, again. Turning the book over in his hands, he opened it and unpicked pages that he’d sealed a long time ago. At least Silver had not pried that deep.

The concealed page held more neat handwriting that didn’t belong to James McGraw.

◦ Thou shalt believe all that the Church teaches and thou shalt observe all its directions. ◦ Thou shalt defend the Church. ◦ Thou shalt respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them. ◦ Thou shalt love the country in which thou wast born. ◦ Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy. ◦ Thou shalt make war against the infidel without cessation and without mercy. ◦ Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy feudal duties, if they be not contrary to the laws of God. ◦ Thou shalt never lie, and shalt remain faithful to thy pledged word. ◦ Thou shalt be generous, and give largesse to everyone. ◦ Thou shalt be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.

Face indecency with propriety. Unholiness with righteousness. Hate with love. Follow this, and when we next meet, I will take you with me.

James ran his fingers over the old ink. Deny all you are, it told him. And play the role of valorous knight. Only then will you be worthy of love. Only then will you be accepted.

Even all this time, James’ father’s words sat like lead in his belly.

#drabble #flint #silver #flint's dad #npc

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fictional-men-enthusiast · 1 year ago

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