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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year ago

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Second Chance - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Warning: mention of blip, death, life support, jealousy, panic attack

Word Count: 3.9 k

So the problem with taking a long nap, it was hard to fall asleep. It also didn’t help that your stomach was a little upset from dinner. FRIDAY informed you that the common floor had ginger ale and crackers. You sat on the couch with your sketchbook on your lap and crackers next to you. You preferred drawing comics or line art, realism wasn’t your thing. But drawing portraits of people helped you remember them and the memories. You were drawing your mom when she was in the courtroom. It was rare that she let you come with her and watch her do her thing. She was afraid that you were going to be a target if people connected you to her.

You missed her so much and you wished she was here to help you through this. When the doctors came into her room at the hospital and told you your options, it was the hardest decision you had to make. But you knew your mom better than anyone, she was your best friend, and you knew she wouldn’t want to be in a vegetative state. So, she was taken off life support and her organs were donated to help save lives. You whipped a tear from your eye before it fell onto your sketchbook. “Why are you crying in the dark?” A voice laced with a Russian accent asked. You jumped, not expecting a voice. In front of you was a blonde-haired girl wearing sweatpants and a SHIELD training shirt. She was fresh out of a shower; her hair was damp and braided.

“Maybe because I don’t like crying when it’s bright outside,” she shrugged and made her way to the kitchen. You spun around to lean on the back of the couch. The blonde was taking out the leftovers from dinner. “Who are you?” If you were to make an educated guess, she was related to Natasha in some way.

“Your Stark’s kid,” she deflected your question with a statement of her own. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of you running around.”

“Probably does,” you said. “I wouldn’t put it past dear old dad,” she placed her food in the microwave and turned to face you, arms crossed against her chest. Her green eyes flickered to the beanie you still chose to wear. “I find it unfair you know who I am and I don’t know you.” She smirked and turned to take her food out of the microwave.

“Where is the fun in that, Stark?”

“Easton,” you corrected her. She raised a questioning eyebrow at you. “I go by my mother’s maiden name since she is the one who raised me and Tony didn’t.” Your mom never spoke ill of the man when you questioned why he was never around. Instead, she told you the truth that she never told him she was pregnant. You stopped asking questions because you didn’t need him. Your mom was all you needed.

“Well, Easton,” she smiled. “It was nice meeting you. Try to get some sleep.” She walked back over to the elevator and stepped inside.

“Sleep tight, blondie,” you sat back down on the couch and focused on your drawing. But you didn’t miss the look of surprise on her face as the metal doors closed. You chuckled, popping a cracker into your mouth. You weren’t worried about the mysterious blonde that got food quickly and left. You figured she was supposed to be here since Tony’s AI didn’t alert anyone or alarms didn’t go off. Now you weren’t an Avengers super fan but you knew of them through the news and research for your comics but you didn’t recognize her. She must be a new addition post the Blip. You sighed, biting the end of the pencil.

You weren’t part of the half of the population that was taken. There was a part of you that wished you were. The car accident happened a few months before the Blip. So you grieved your mom and those you lost. It was hard. You threw yourself into your drawings, and your research, and traveled the world to help others to ignore your grief. It worked. Was it unhealthy? Yes. But you helped a lot of people, wasn’t that worth it?

You cleaned up the crackers and cleaned the glass you used. There was an ache in your bones and you knew it was time for bed.

You were back on the common floor in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and waiting for your oatmeal to be done. You thanked every god that existed that your taste buds still liked coffee. The microwave beeped and you took it out. As you ate it you made a list of things you needed to do before the weekend was over and your doctor appointment tomorrow morning. Your new room was fully furnished even with kitchen appliances so you could donate your furniture except the desk and bean bag in your office. You could put the desk you had in your bedroom or near the window in the living room. The hall closet would be before seasonal clothes, extra supplies, and a few things you kept that were your mom’s. You had a lot of stuff which meant you needed to go through everything and donate the stuff you didn’t need. But you weren’t sure how long you would be at the tower? Was it a permanent placement? Or until you got better, if you got better. You didn’t like to think about that. “How did you sleep?” Natasha asked, walking up to the coffee pot and pouring herself some.

“Okay,” you took a bite of your oatmeal. “I think that nap messed up my sleeping schedule.” You giggled. You couldn’t help but stare at the redhead in front of you, trying to compare features from the blonde you met last night. They had similar eye color and teasing look in their eyes. They even smirked the same.

“You're starring,” Natasha smirked. “I’m sorry but I’m spoken for and I don’t think Tony would like that.” You looked away from her so she didn’t see your embarrassment but a playful smile danced on your lips.

“Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you looked back at the Black Widow. “Or you're just that mesmerizing to look at.” Natasha groaned, gently slapping you on the shoulder.

“You flirt better than your father, I'll give you that,” you giggled. “Well I was thinking if you weren’t that tired,” she leaned against the counter. “We could borrow a few of Stark’s cars and go to your apartment to get your things. I can bribe Bucky, Steve, and my sister to help.” Sister? Interesting. But you didn’t dwell too much on that.

“Why are you offering to help?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“This can’t be easy,” she stated. “With your diagnosis, reaching out to your biological father, and moving into a new place with new people,” you smiled. It was not easy. “But I bet having stuff you're familiar with can make it easier.” She was right. The bed was comfortable but you missed your mom’s guilt. The walls were bare, missing your photos and artwork.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll go round up the delinquents. Do you need clothes to wear?” You looked down at your sleeping clothes. You could change into the clothes you were wearing yesterday but they were dirty.

“Uh yeah,” you scratched the back of your head. “I wasn’t expecting him to offer me a place at the tower.” It was common practice for you to take an overnight bag when you went somewhere due to your random spots of fatigue. You expected to be back at your apartment by lunch night. Natasha frowned.

“Did you not expect Tony to help you?” The Black Widow asked. You shrugged.

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you told her. The frown remained on Natasha’s face.

“Wanda will have something for you to wear. FRIDAY, can you inform Wanda to meet Y/n at her room with clothes?” The AI confirmed she would alert the witch. You smiled.

“Thanks again, Nat,” you weren’t expecting this level of kindness from the other Avengers.

“Just tell FRIDAY when you're ready,” you finished your breakfast and cleaned up the dishes. By the time you took the elevator to the floor you were on, Wanda was outside your door with an armful of clothes. You laughed.

“Got enough options?” You teased, opening the door for her. She huffed with a roll of her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure what would fit or your style,” she dumped the clothes onto the couch. “So I brought a lot,” she surveyed the mess she created. “Okay, I may have gone a little overboard.” You giggled and started to go through the pile. You settled on a SHIELD shirt, that matched the blonde’s last night, and a pair of black shorts. But a few dresses did catch your eye and you made a mental note to ask her to burrow them. After a quick shower and changing into clothes, you informed the AI that you were ready.

“Miss. Romanoff and company are in the garage,” you grabbed your wallet, keys, and phone. “Step into the elevator and I’ll bring you down.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you said, walking out of your room and to the elevator. Once inside, your mind began to race. You leaned back on the metal wall, looked up at the ceiling, and stared at your reflection. Was your apartment clean? You couldn’t remember. It was another effect of chemo - you called it chemo brain. Sometimes you couldn’t remember if you turned off the oven or locked the door. It was why drawing helped so much to pinpoint and focus on specific memories.

So was your apartment clean? Gods, you hoped so. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You tried to push down your anxiety at the thought of 4 Avengers walking into a messy apartment. The elevator doors opened and you saw Natasha, Buck, and Steve next to a moving van and the blonde you met leaning against a red Mustang. The sight made you smile. “Hey Blondie,” her head snapped to you.

“Blondie?” Natasha questioned looking at who you assumed was her sister.

“Easton,” she smirked. “You are the reason I was pulled out of bed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I believe that was your sister,” you tilted your head to Natasha. The three Avengers watched the interaction with confusion all over their faces. “We met last night. She knew who I was but refused to tell me her name so from now until she tells me her name she will be Blondie.” Natasha shook her head with a defeated sigh.

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” she said, hitting her sister’s arm. Whatever she said made Bucky chuckle. It was Russian that you knew but you and Steve looked at each other, the only ones not understanding the language. Her sister frowned, rubbing the spot Natasha hit. “You’ll be riding with my sister,” you huffed. Her name was still a mystery but the blonde looked smug. “We’ll follow you.”

“Sounds good, you smiled, getting into the passenger seat. You didn’t catch whatever Natasha said to her sister before they got into the van. The blonde got with a sigh and turned on the car. “What did she say to you?”

“Put your address in,” she handed you her phone with the maps app already up instead of answering. You did as she asked and plugged it into the charger. “She told me to stop being difficult.” She began the drive to your apartment.

“Difficult?” You didn’t think she was. “Why are you being difficult?” But you were curious why she kept her name a mystery. You couldn’t find much about her online with a quick Google search.

“It’s more fun,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Do you not think so, Easton?”

“Whatever you say, blondie,” you smiled. “Whatever you say.”

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped out of the way for the Avengers to enter. It was a 2 bedroom, 1 ½ bathroom. You used your second bedroom as your office and art studio since no one was coming to visit you. You were lucky to afford a place like this on your own and a glance around it wasn’t a mess. Bucky carried in some moving boxes. “So all the furniture is gonna stay beside the stuff in my office. The pots, pans, and utensils will be donated. I guess we’ll pack as much as we can today and I’ll come back another day to finish it.”

“Anything you want to prioritize?” Steve asked.

“My clothes,” you smiled. “As much as I love Wanda’s clothes, I don’t think this is my vibe.” Natasha laughed.

“I’ll handle your clothes.”

“Steve and I will get your furniture from your office,” Bucky suggested.

“And I’ll stand here and look pretty.”

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” you teased. Bucky, Natasha, and the blonde looked at you, mouths open. “I pick up on languages easily,” A quick Google search also didn’t help. “It’s Russian for idiot,” you told the blonde super soldier. Steve smiled, shaking his head with a laugh.

“She’s not wrong.” She gasped, clutching her chest.

“Steve Rogers, how could you?” You smiled.

“I’ll buy pizza if you do some work, blondie.” You said and walked over to your hall closet to get a cooler and some reusable bags. Packing up the kitchen was going to be your job so you could go through the fridge and pantry. Natasha headed off to your bedroom and Steve and Bucky went to your office which left the blonde in your living space. She put a box together and began to take the pictures off the wall. You couldn’t help but watch her. The living room was decorated with pictures and items from your travels and the research you’ve done. She would look at the picture for a little bit before putting it into the box. It was odd, a stranger was going through some of your most prized possessions, packing them up so you could move into the Avengers’ tower. What a strange life you were living.

“So,” you looked at the blonde. “What languages do you know?”

“I’m fluent in English and German but I’ve traveled a lot and I can put up with delicate differences.” She nodded, picking up a handmade mug you got while volunteering in South Africa. You continued to watch her. There was an odd look on her face. You frowned, going back to cleaning out the fridge not wanting to think too much about it.

Yelena walked into the spare room you deemed as your office. The space was cleaned out of a desk, a bean bag, and an art easel. There was something about you that Yelena found intriguing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She put together one of the moving boxes and began to take the artwork off the wall. They were all line drawings of various sea creatures with watercolor accents. Her favorite was the blue whale with her calf. Once they were safely in the box, Yelena opened the closet. She wondered how you could afford this place on top of your medical expenses. A majority of the stuff was extra art supplies and canvas, all still in their original packaging. But what caught her eye was the flying cabinet. She couldn’t help herself as she knelt in front of it and opened the bottom drawer. Was it an invasion of privacy? Probably but Yelena was a spy at heart and her curiosity got the best of her.

She wasn’t surprised that she found more of your artwork but the contents of the pictures were surprising. It was the Avengers in comic book format. The mission they were on Yelena didn’t recognize so she assumed you made it up. The details were impressive. She put the comic back and picked up another drawing. It was a realistic portrait of a woman. Yelena didn’t know her but she saw similar features of you in her. She made the educated guess she was your mother. Natasha called her on her flight back from St. Petersburg and explained your story to her; diagnosed with cancer and the only family you had left was Tony because a car accident killed your mother. It was weird learning about your life through pictures she had to pack. You’ve traveled and seen the world by choice. You had a loving mother and now a father that brought you in without question. Those relationships weren’t brought together by a Red Room mission. She understood the feeling that grew when she saw you. Jealousy. She was jealous. Jealous of a girl who was dying unless she got a bone marrow transplant. It was ridiculous, uncalled for. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she learned something about you, a warm feeling built in her chest and she envied everything. “For a spy, you're pretty easy to sneak up on,” Yelena jumped, turning around quickly. You were standing in the doorway with a playful smile on your face. “Whatcha got there, blondie?” You asked, walked over to her, and sat down. Smiling, you looked at the picture in her hand. “That’s my mom. It was right before the car accident.”

“They never found out who caused it, right?” You nodded, taking the picture from her. Yelena frowned, not liking the sadness radiating from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff.” You placed the photo back where it belonged.

“Don’t worry about it,” you stood up, holding out your hand to help her up. Yelena hesitated (she wondered if you noticed) but finally took it. Your hand was smooth against hers beside the small callus on your finger. “You would have seen them eventually. The pizza is here. I guess you did enough to deserve it.” You teased her. Yelena chuckled, rolling her eyes. She wondered how you kept your heart. It was what Melina said to her and Natasha before the Red Room took them - ‘don’t let them take your heart.’ Life had not been easy for you but you still managed to keep your smile and sense of humor. It was another thing on her list to envy.

“Your evil, Easton,” you giggled, looking back over your shoulder.

“You don’t know half of it.”

FRIDAY told you that Tony was in his lap. You held a box that was decorated in red and gold, tight underneath your arm. In hindsight, you should have known who your father was based on the color of the box but you only saw it once or twice. When the lab door opened, Tony looked up from his workbench. “Hey kid, how was moving out of the apartment?” He asked.

“Good,” you sat down on an empty stool next to him. “I have to go back again but a majority of my stuff is here.” You watched his eyes glance at the box.

“Well, let me know if I can help,” you nodded, tracing the lid of the box with your finger and looking away from him. Tony pulled up another stool. “Hey,” you looked at him. “What’s wrong?” You sighed, handing him the box.

“The letters she wrote to you,” he took the box, eyes wide as he stared at it. “You can read them or not or destroy them. It’s your choice.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, standing up.

“One more thing,” you let out a shaky breath. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Do-do you want to come?” You were afraid to ask him, unsure of his response. But your mom didn’t allow him to be in your life, you wanted to give him the chance. The ball was in his court. You could tell he was shocked by the invitation.

“Of course. I’ll be there,” you felt the weight leave your shoulders. Since your diagnosis, you’ve gone to your doctor's appointment alone. “Just let me know,” you smiled.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Tony,” you left his lap, hearing a ‘see ya’ from behind you. You took the elevator to the floor and into your room. It was a mess, boxes everywhere. You sighed, grabbed your mom’s quilt, and sat on the couch. The quilt belonged to your great-grandmother, who passed away before you were born. She gifted it to your mom when she graduated high school. It was blue and white with stars. You had great memories of you and your mom wrapped in this quilt reading a bedtime story by the campfire. You sighed, falling deeper into the couch and allowing the quilt to keep you warm. The mess could wait and be dealt with another time.

His leg began to shake as he stared at the box still resting in his hand. He felt a panic attack building inside him. It was a long time coming with everything going on but he didn’t have time for it. On shaky legs, he stood up and opened a drawer at his desk pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It was rare that he drank but he needed something to take the edge off. He picked up the box and sat down on the small couch.

There was a part of him that thought about destroying the box of letters. He didn’t have to know what he missed in the past; he had you now and could look towards the future, no matter how short it may be. No, he couldn’t think like that. He poured his drink. “Tony, your heart rate has elevated. Should I contact Pepper?”

“No, FRIDAY, I’m okay,” he wasn’t sure if he was okay but he opened the box. He wondered if there was an order to the letters. Each one was titled - 1st Christmas, High School Graduation, 5th birthday, and every milestone he missed Jessica wrote him a letter. Tony wasn’t sure how long it took before her words began to blur and he wasn’t making sense of anything. He missed you graduating high school and traveling with Captain Mills to help research how global warming was affecting sharks. He missed all of this because he wasn’t given a choice to be in your life. The beating of his heart was the only thing he heard in his quiet lab. His breathing was erratic as he picked up his full glass and threw it at the wall. The glass shattering startled him as he sat on the ground, back against the couch. He pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes, hoping it would help but it wasn’t. He couldn't stop the growing panic inside of him. It was too much.

Soon he felt fingers running through his hair. FRIDAY must have notified Pepper and he was so out of it that he didn’t hear Pepper enter. “I’m here,” he mumbled. Pepper hummed, pushing some strands off his forehead that were stuck due to sweat.

“That was a big one,” she stated. “Just sit with me, okay?” Tony didn’t have the energy to resist her as he rested his head on her shoulder. The sweet smell of her lavender perfume washed over him. He felt better, felt grounded. His heart rate evened out and his breathing wasn’t as erratic. “Do you want to talk about what triggered it?” She asked softly.

“Later,” he said. “Can we just be?” Pepper nodded, holding him tighter. And they would talk about it later. But for now, they were just Pepper and Tony. Not the CEO of Stark Industries or Iron. Not a mother of 1 and a new father of two. In the quiet and empty lab, they were safe in each other’s arms. Just being Pepper and Tony.

Taglist: @likemick

#second chance #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x y/n #yelena belova #tony stark #tony stark x pepper potts #Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #james bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #marvel #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction

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floralhuqzz · 10 months ago

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What is love about? (Johnnie Guilbert x fem reader)

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: none

summary: y/n always drinks coffee in the mornings in a cafeteria near where she lives, when she spots a guy who caughts her attention

english is not my first language so i apologize if theres any misspelled words, etc🖤🦇

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

i woke up by the sound of my alarm. I grunted as i took my phone and adjusted my eyes to the brightness of my phone as i turn off my alarm. It was currently 8 am so that meant that i had to go to work in a few hours… i sat down and scrolled through my phone a bit. I got up from bed and put on my slippers as i yawn and stretch,, i open my closet and start looking for a good outfit,, i work at hot topic so you can imagine how my work clothes looked like. I finally picked an outfit and did my makeup and brushed my teeth before picking my bag and going outside.

your outfit:

Since i worked at a shopping center i always went to Starbucks for coffee. I ordered a cappuccino as i sat down sipping on my coffee as i pulled out my sketchbook and my pencil case. i checked the time and i still had 1 hour until my shift starts. i didn’t know what to draw so i started to look around trying to get an inspiration when i layed my eyes on a black haired beautiful guy.. he had an amazing style and makeup..i must say he is really god damn hot… (i <3 emo guys ).

he suddenly makes eye contact with me and i look away. i look back at him and he kept looking at me over and over again “maybe it’s because he likes my outfit” i thought to myself. he sat down two tables away from me as he scrolled through his phone as he took a sip of his coffee.. ill to draw him. i couldn’t keep my eyes away from him..

i started drawing him.. trying to draw as many details as i can,, after 30 min he finished his coffee and wanted to leave but i took my opportunity and approached him..

“hi..” i smiled a little, i was so fucking nervous

“oh hi” he smiles as he puts his phone in his pocket as he spoke

“umm i hope doesn’t sounds weird but.. i drew you” i said a little embarrassed as i gave him the drawing

“holy fuck! you did this in 30 minutes?!” he takes my drawing and smiles

“yeah i can draw pretty fast,, i like your style” i smiled still a little nervous

“i love this, thank you so much…i like your outfit and makeup and..pretty much everything” he smiles as he looks at me up and down.

“thank you” i blush as i smile

“i dont wanna sound like a stalker but.. ive noticed you are here pretty often”

i look a bit confused but i chuckle a bit

“yeah i work at hot topic”

“youre kidding?! i fucking love that store” he smiles

“i can tell” we both laugh

i check the time on my phone, i had 3 minutes until my shift starts

“fuck i have to go to work, im running late” i take my stuff

“hey can i get yo-“ i interrupt him

“its in the back of the paper” i smile as i start running to the store

he checks the back of the drawing and sees the instagram username,, he smiles and sets on walking home.

johnnie’s pov:

i start walking home as i kept thinking about that girl at the cafe,, i get home as i sat down in the sofa and start looking at the drawing again for the millionth time.

“whats that?” jake says

“nothing” i put the drawing in my pocket

“was that a drawing?” he smiles

“no..”

“come on johnnie we are best buddies…im like your ketchup to your fries, you are the dick to my balls-“

“jake thats fucking gross” i sigh “a girl g-“

“A GIRL?” he took both of my shoulders “okay dude...YOU TALKED TO A GIRL?” he smiled “THIS IS A MOMENT OF HISTORY”

i laugh “ok can you let me finish?”

“okok”

“so i went to Starbucks today and i spotted this girl..and then she gave me this” i take the drawing from my pocket and show it to jake

“DUDE SHE WANTS YOU.”

i blush

“what?- jake we just met”

“and?” he crossed his arms

“and i dont think…thats the case,,maybe she just wants to be my friend”

“you are so fucking blind” he turns the paper and sees the instagram username “SEARCH THE USERNAME NOW”

“okok calm the fuck down” i take my phone and open instagram “found it”

“GIVE ME THE PHONE” he takes my phone and starts looking at her posts “oh she is hot.”

“JAKE”

“dude you better get with her or i will”

“omfg you are a prick” i take the phone and start looking at her pictures as i..blush?

“DUDE YOU ARE BLUSHING, YOU ARE INTO HER”

“OH SHUT UP”

time skip when y/n finishes work and gets home

y/ns pov:

i check my phone and i see a notification of a new follower on instagram.

“johnnie guilbert..” i thought to myself

i check his instagram,, he was really pretty…its like everything about him was perfect. i blush as i kepts stalking his instagram and i receive a new message

“hiii im johnnie (the guy from the cafe) :)”

“omg hi!”

“how are you? how was work?”

“im good, work was pretty boring ngl,, hru! ”

“im good im good, brushing my teeth rn”

“its 5 pm…”

“so?”

“who brushes their teeth at 5pm? hahaha”

“i do 🤓” he sents me a picture

"you are a weirdo"

"you are a weirdo for not brushing your teeth"

"NO ONE BRUSHES THEIR TEETH AT 5 PM"

"ok geez fine ahhsha"

"ive gotta go ill text you later :)"

"aww ok, bye bye <;3"

"bye<;3"

i placed my phone next to me as i layed in my room as i thought about johnnie for a while.. i think i have a bit of a crush on him.

time skip to 8pm*

I went to the kitchen and started to make myself some dinner as i was going through my phone as i saw a story from johnnie

"LIVE NOW"

"This could be fun", i thought to myself as i joined his twitch stream

johnnies pov:

"hey how is everyone doing??" i started reading my chat

"why do i look so happy??" i read someone comment "well today i met this...girl..." i smiled as i saw chat going crazy "yeah yeah.. so i met this girl today and she was like...everything i ever dreamed about like... chat im begin dead serious..and she gave me a drawing!" i take the drawing that was laying on my table and showed to the camera "isnt it perfect? look at the details" i point out every single detail "it looks like a photo" i read "yeah it does!"

i kept reading the chat for a while

"is she beautiful?" i read "yes she fucking is" i smile

a notification of a donation popped on my screen.

"you are so cute stop it haha <3 -from the cafe girl"

when i saw that message i literally wanted the ground to swallow me whole.. i didnt know what to say so i froze.. i completely forgot that i posted a link to my stream in my instagram stories...i was so fucking stupid-

"just kill me already.." i put my hands on my face blushing from embarrasment

i see a notification from my phone and i see that it was from y/n.. i see that she sent me a picture of her laptop from where she was watching my stream "someone is blushingggg"

"oh shut upp"

"i will if you ask me on a date"

"tomorrow 4pm at my house, what do u say???"

"ill be there ;)"

i look at my computer to read the chat "HE IS BLUSHING SM" "SO CUTE" "WE NEED TO FIND THIS GIRL!"

"oh sush chat" i laugh

....to be continued

SHOULD I CONTINUE THIS??

#johnnie guilbert #johnnieguilbertxreader #reader #twitch #fanfic #johnnie #guilbert #jakewebber #youtube

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eastgaysian · 1 year ago

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Could I ask to hear about your little guys? The ones you keep making in games, I mean

yeah absolutely!!!

#1 little guy is actually little. he's the dnd character i made for a kind of scuffed campaign me and my online friends played in like. 2014?

he's a gnomish bard i named lemming for laffs and now that name is stuck forever. he ended up kind of adopting an offputting 8 year old human girl (named mouse) with mysterious ties to the old god the pcs were trying to find. we never finished that campaign but i drew him 1 million times in my high school sketchbooks and the concept of Guy who accidentally adopts a weird kid that's taller than him stuck with me. it's really good he's got that chill gay dad energy. i made him into a dwarven inquisitor in dragon age and an orlan in pillars of eternity. i'm 100% planning on making him in bg3 too

#2 is the self insert i made when i was like 11 and named essentially a keysmash. but then i meaningfully developed her, decided she was trans and gave her an actual name (so-min), and then i decided i was trans.

her defining features are 1) shooting fire at people 2) tragic dead dad backstory and a difficult relationship with mom due to being perceived as a bad influence on her younger sister who she adores. 3) having a very >:3c personality. she became one of my hawkes in dragon age. i do not let go of old concepts or characters they all live rent free in my head forever

#mingbox #lemming

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transitranger327 · 4 months ago

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Ehn’yuste: the Three Ways, Chapter 4: Building Ranks

Summary: A flashback to the beginning of Sabine’s journey as a Jedi. In the present, Shin and Sabine contemplate their future. Sabine offers guidance to a struggling Bo-Katan.

Notes: This chapter kept growing longer and longer, until I couldn’t finish a scene. Then I realized I could just move the scene to the next chapter. So I did. Did you know there’s an S in Vizsla? I didn’t!

A Mando’a glossary is in the end notes (below the cut), but you should check it out, I did a bit of linguistics

Eight years before the Ignition

The former Jedi stepped off onto a cold desert moon. The remnants of the Jedi holy site still breathed, but it was a halting, wheezing breath. She couldn’t bear to venture to the crater formerly known as the Holy City. Instead, Ahsoka turned to the outskirts, where the crew of the Ghost were assisting the remnants of Gerrera’s Partisans trying to expel the remnants of the Imperial presence. Not exactly a welcoming place for a meeting, but she supposed it would do. As she approached the rebel camp, she heard familiar voices shouting from tents. “I’ve been playing with explosives since I was a TODDLER! I know EXACTLY how much rhydonium we’ll need for a bomb that size!” She saw a Mandalorian woman storming out in a huff, whose mood improved immediately upon seeing the former Jedi. “Ahsoka! You made it!” she said as she embraced an old friend. Sabine radioed her crewmates to join her in the Ghost, then turned to Ahsoka, “Come on, let me take you to the family.”

The freighter-turned-rebellion symbol was at once familiar and yet distinct. Kanan and Ezra’s absences were palpable, yet a new kind of joy had begun to take their place. The former imperial Kallus (she was looking forward to learning how he became a turncoat) had taken Ezra’s old bunk, and Zeb seemed to be a lot warmer to his presence than the young Jedi. Rex now seemed to be living on the Ghost full time, and he was using Kanan’s old room. And this new member, Omega, well…

“Commander! Ezra told me you survived Malachor, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you with my own eyes.” “Rex, what did Kenobi always say?” “Yeah yeah, I know, ‘your eyes can deceive you’, but not all of us have force powers. Anyway, this is Omega. Omega, this is Ahsoka, my old commander I always told you about.” “Another sister? Older, I sense?” “Wait how did you know?” Omega was surprised, very rarely had anyone guessed that correctly. “Like I said, looks can be deceiving. Anyway, so glad to meet you.”

Allegedly, Omega was staying with her brother in Kanan’s room, but more of her personal effects seemed to be in Hera’s room. A story for another time, perhaps, when they didn’t have war plans to make. After making their plans to liberate the Kyber mines, the crew began to ask what Ahsoka had been up to. She began to explain her recent travels, “There has been some disturbances in the Force lately. Not significant exactly, but concerning. Sabine, Ezra said you were with him when he visited the World Between Worlds. Can you tell me more?”

Sabine thought back to that day, the last days of Lothal’s occupation. The last days she saw her dad and brother. “Ezra and I were investigating the Empire’s looting of the Lothal Temple. We discovered a mural, one that could be changed to open the gateway Ezra used.”

A mural would line up with what Ahsoka had discovered on Malachor. “Can you show me the mural?” She assumed Sabine had made either a copy or her own art inspired by it.

As Sabine went to her room to grab a sketchbook, Omega worked up the courage to inform Ahsoka of her own personal history. “For 3 years after the Empire started, there was a secret cloning research program focusing on m-counts. Kids my age and younger subjected to a bunch of medical testing. My brothers and I staged a breakout that destroyed most of the research, but do you think it could have anything to do with what you’re dealing with?” She hoped she wasn’t making a bad impression, and had learned how to be a bit more tactful since meeting Ventress all those years ago.

Ahsoka was intrigued. “It’s certainly possible. The Empire has a habit of kidnapping kids who would’ve been Jedi younglings. Would you be willing to put me in contact with the ones you rescued?”

An offer to be in contact with a Jedi for more than just generic rebellion? Omega leapt at the chance, “Of course, some of them still live with us.”

Sabine returned to the commons, sketchbook in hand. She projected up a page featuring a charcoal illustration of three figures. “The mural looked mostly like this, but the arms of these three moved depending on if the gateway was opened or closed. The imperial leading the looting was convinced they were gods of some sort.”

Ahsoka frowned. “He was right. I’ve met those gods. They called themselves The Ones: Father, Son, and Daughter. The Son was the embodiment of the Dark Side. The Daughter was the embodiment of the Light Side. The Father attempted to keep them in balance. I found a mural of just the Son, deep in the Malachor Temple. It helped me start to piece together how these mysteries work.” Sabine asked what happened to them. “They’re dead. But their legacy lives on.”

—

As the impromptu conference came to a close, and the crew of the Ghost dispersed to prepare for the fight, Sabine lingered with Ahsoka. She was trying to find an angle to ask for Ahsoka’s…help? Guidance? Tips and tricks‽ “ugh why does this ha—”

“Sabine, do you have something you want to ask me?” The Mandalorian’s silent pleading could’ve been noticed by anyone, but the Force made it much easier for Ahsoka to sense the intentions. Curiosity, not sorrow.

For a moment, Sabine was thrown mentally off balance. She had known Jedi could read minds, but it had been more than a year since a Jedi was close to her (The Skywalker kid was off hanging out with Rogue Squadron), and she had forgotten. So the story started spilling out of her mouth “EzraGaveMeHisLightsaberOkay? AndAnd, ItFeelsLike, LikeHeWantsMeToUseItOkay? iHaveDarksaberExperienceBut, ButItDoesntFeelEnough?”

Chuckling, Ahsoka replied. “All right, okay, slow down. Does the lightsaber call to you?” Sabine’s face changed, as if digging deeper into memory than she was used to, then nodded “Yes.” Smiling, Ahsoka proposed a solution. “I may not be able to train you as a Jedi, but I’m more than willing to train you how to connect and wield a lightsaber. Especially one as connected to you as a parting gift from family.”

—

One and a half years after the Ignition

Two Jedi were meditating together. If you had told either of the them two years earlier that they’d be meditating with their wife, neither would’ve believed you. For Sabine, the idea of meditating was far-fetched, much less meditating with someone else. “Been there, tried that” had been her mantra when it came to the Force. Shin had no such misgivings. Steeped in the Jedi traditions of her master, she had a deep connection to the Force. But a wife? She had never fallen so deeply in love as she had with Sabine. The taunting of enemies had become a teasing between lovers so subtly that she had barely noticed the change. The more they competed, the more compelled to each other they had felt. And now their spirits were intertwined, feeling the air and the water and the beskar and the trinitite around them together, a small pocket of a thriving world.

But Sabine sensed some nagging doubts in her wife’s mind. “Cyar, what’s wrong?” A simple question that could be answered as simply or complexly as Shin needed.

The question was unexpected. Shin didn’t think that those feelings were notable for even a Jedi to sense. But if anyone was good at reading people, it was her wife; an abnormal Jedi whose strength arose in relationships and attachments. “I love how we’re teaching each other. I really do. But…I think I need to find a Padawan of my own. Like you and Grogu.”

“Waitwaitwait, Grogu isn’t my padawan. He’s just…” Sabine tried finding the right word, but the implication of being a traditional Jedi had short-circuited her.

Shin decided to fill the space. “Baby, the Dins practically live at our apartment now.” Sensing her wife’s defensiveness, she pivoted. “We can call your mentor-student relationship something different, if you want. But I would like to also be teaching someone new. I think the Galaxy can use more Jedi.”

The ideas started solidifying for Sabine. “Are you suggesting we start a new Jedi Order?” A small smile and nod came from Shin. Sabine started brainstorming out loud, her preferred method of planning. “I think we can do that. It would still have to be Mandalorian. I don’t think I can disentangle my heritage from my training. Which means family and relationships would be allowed and encouraged.”

A laugh emerged from Shin, “Well I certainly wasn’t planning to be hypocritical. I definitely want to be your riduur.” She kissed her wife, with all the feelings of love and support she could offer. “But we would need a temple. We can’t just have everyone in our apartment.”

Sabine remembered something Ezra had found. “Temples tend to be built around vergences in the Force. What about that small one Ezra and Jacen discovered? Were you able to learn anything about it?” After her brother and nephew found an anomaly, she and her wife occasionally visited, trying to understand what and why it was, but Shin was also researching historical documents to learn more.

“I think it was Tarre Vizsla’s childhood home. Something about his connection to both the Jedi and Mandalore left a small knot in the force there.” Shin understood the immense irony of starting an order where you didn’t have to choose between Jedi and Mandalore at the place where that choice was first made. “Do you think the Vizslas will give us any trouble for wanting to use one of their family’s homes as a Jedi temple?”

“Didn’t the old Jedi Temple have a massive library? If we established our own library there dedicated to preserving Jedi and Mandalorian history, and made it open to everyone, maybe they would see the temple as an honor to their family and not a desecration.”

—

“Stars, I really need more advisors.” Bo-Katan sat on her throne-turned-conference-seat, exhausted from the sheer amount of decisions she had to make. Her beloved Armorer was willing to advise, but even she looked to the Manda’lor for final decisions. A younger her, the one that joined Death Watch, would’ve relished in the power. But now the weight of tradition was starting to crush the Duchess, and most people were unwilling to share the burden if they couldn’t have all the power for themselves.

Footsteps approached the old throne room. “You’re stressed.” A woman in purple and teal walked thru the doorway. “I would ask if you have time for me, but I know you’re ani’ures’hukaan”

Bo-Katan snorted, “trying to Jetii’layari?” She had been friendly with some Jedi for years, but occasional caf meetups with Ahsoka was very different from multiple self-avowed Jedi running around on Mandalore. Even as she grew more accustomed to them (Sabine was a family friend, after all), most of her people were still unsure. Whether it was traditionalists who opposed Jedi on principal, the remnants of her sister’s faction who hated their hypocrisy, or the select few who were close enough to think the Jedi could’ve helped during the purge and didn’t.

“No, you accidentally sent me your entire schedule for the next week and it’s booked.” Sabine hoped she could ease some of the stress Bo-Katan was under, so showing off her Jedi skills wasn’t an option. “How did this not happen when you were governor all those years ago?”

The older woman sighed, “You might be too young to remember, but we used to have an elected assembly. We had a council and a prime minister, the duchess never ruled alone.” She tried to not feel hurt while remembering her sister. “Gar Saxon and the Empire destroyed all that. We never knew peace afterwards. We had to function purely as a military, and look where that got us.” Her souring mood would’ve been evident to anyone, but she knew Sabine could feel the deeper despair. “Even now, everyone looks to me like I’m their general and not their duchess.” She felt two hands on her shoulders and another forehead press against hers.

“Hey, hey, hey, ner vod, you’re fighting too many enemies alone.” Sabine could tell Bo-Katan was surprised by her physicality, but not opposed. She reached out in the Force, not to communicate, but to build a sanctuary where Bo-Katan could feel safe while vulnerable.

She felt safer the longer Sabine remained. “I want to do the most I can to rebuild Mandalore, but the more I succeed, the more work there is.” For some reason, it was now easier to rummage thru her feelings. “I love Mandalore and I love that we have so much history and I’m scared that if anyone else tries taking over they’ll try ignoring all of that in favor of their personal vendetta.” Tears started silently dripping out of the corners of her eyes as she tried to catch a breath. “Stars, why am I crying over this?”

The younger woman heard that thought loud and clear, but tried to craft a response that wouldn’t come off as knowing-too-much. So she produced a small handkerchief from a belt pouch and offered it to Bo-Katan with, “it’s okay to be overwhelmed with running an entire planet.” She watched as Bo-Katan wiped away her own tears, then continued. “I find it helpful to meditate; to clear my thoughts and refocus my energy, both at the beginning and end of the day. Even the middle sometimes.” When Sabine saw the older woman’s grimace at the thought of doing something Jedi, she added, “this isn’t just sitting, legs crossed, connecting to the Force. It’s also spending time free from distractions, like target practice alone. Ahsoka and her master often meditated by tinkering with machinery. I’m willing to bet the Armorer achieves a similar state of mind while smithing. It’s all about letting go of your conscious self and acting on instinct.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” mused Bo-Katan as she relaxed back into her throne. “That’s nice, but I only have a finite amount of time in the day. Do you have any suggestions for my practical needs? Not just my spiritual ones.”

Sabine understood the gravity of Mandalore’s situation, and considered how similar it was to the Rebellion. “Elections for an assembly would take a while to set up. Why not start with a council of the heads of each clan?” She realized, too late, that this would mean more responsibility for her. “Then we build a consensus on how an assembly would run.” She glanced at her chrono, and saw her meeting with the Vizslas was fast approaching. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“Hang on you can’t just come in here, listen to me pour my heart out, and walk out!” Bo-Katan was now shouting at the unexpected departure.

Sabine retorted from across the room, “Actually Duchess, I can!”

“Once a rebel, always a rebel I guess,” Bo-Katan sighed, before realizing she had no idea what Sabine was up to. “Wait, why did you come here in the first place?”

“Shin and I are planning on starting a Jedi temple, just wanted to let you know!” The doors to the throne room closed behind her.

“Stars, she’s gonna be the death of me.”

—

Deep in the Unknown Regions

A Mirialan man was strapped to a hospital bed. His blood was slowly being drained for Imperial research. He bore stitches where large tissue samples had been taken. His only hope was that his longtime friend would be able to find him before it was too late.

—

Mando’a Glossary: Cyar: love Riduur: spouse Ani’ures’hukaan: in over your head. This one I spent a lot of time on, because it really wouldn’t make sense for a Mandalorian to say “swamped” because there are no swamps on Mandalore. So I figured “exposed during a fight” would make sense, so this is literally “completely without cover” Jetii’layari: showing off Jedi powers, lit. “Jedi-swagger” Ner vod: “my friend/sibling”

#wolfwren #ehn’yuste #sabine wren #shin hati #ahsoka tano #bo katan kryze #tbb omega #mando’a #sapphic star wars #sw fanfic #ao3 #ghost crew

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kaynon · 5 months ago

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Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) 💗

It's kind of funny I get this today, cuz I've just turned 20 and I'm genuinely proud of myself for making it another year and in a general upswing at that. Thank you for sending me this ask :)

1) I'm a good person, this is important to me because whenever I'm having bad anxiety/depression my brain tries to convince me otherwise (even though it's not true). There was this time I was in New Orleans with my Dad & youngest brother, we were going to Audubon Aquarium but I wanted to bring a sketchbook so we went to a Walmart. Except I had routed us to a Walmart in a dangerous part of town so my Dad wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. We were rushing past this older man and his kid/grandkid who was in one of the electric carts and I didn't want to cut right in front of him (like my Dad had just done) and also didn't want to lose my Dad (it was very busy) so I cut to the other side and accidentally knocked some clothes over. I felt really embarrassed to have to now hold the man up but I apologized to him and hung the clothes back up. He ended up getting in line behind my Dad and was like 'you've raised really good kids' and talked to him about how my youngest brother has said excuse me when darting in front of him with my Dad and how I had cleaned up after myself and he doesn't always see that with other kids. I swear not every bullet point will be this long, but this is a good reminder for myself so, yeah, good person

2) seeing as this is going up on my art blog, it might be weird to not mention that I like how creative I am! I have tried a bunch of different art things, am a video editor, a writer, I enjoy photography and am not half bad at design, I will learn the bass guitar someday (I've been learning it for four years now :), and so on. Being creative is one of my favorite things to do and be

3) if I care about you then I will do what I can to help and be there. This was kind of instilled in me by family, as they say 'no matter what you've done we will try to help,' or what I hear more often is 'just give us a call if you need anything' but I know it's true for me too. When I was living with my Dad I wasn't allowed to have people over if he wasn't home but there was a time when my best friend had messaged her group chat that she needed someone and was worried about being alone and immediately I told her she could come to my house and she did and I comforted her until she felt better. And my Dad never found out but I wouldn't feel bad if he ever did because I was just doing what I could for a friend

4) speaking of I'm also very protective of the people I care about, I've got a lot of brothers and friends I worry about. This can be a bad thing sometimes cuz it also means I tend towards suspicion at times, but I still like it about myself.

5) I think I make people feel invited and involved. I pay attention when someone is talking and try not to let others talk over them. I'll invite people to go to things with me (when I am going to things anyways). Even when I don't know a person super well or don't necessarily like them I try to make them feel welcome cuz I don't want anyone to feel ignored around me

I don't know that I have 10 followers! But I'll find people to send this to, thank you again for sending it to me :D

#hopefully there aren't a bunch of spelling mistakes #ask game #answered asks #ask meme #it's good to be kind to yourself #q&a

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kayssweetdreams · 2 years ago

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Maestro Hiccups 3: Chaos Incarnate Ch 2

Y/N smiled "Yeah. I'm Y/N, I just moved here from NYC" you said. The girl smiled "Oh Cool! My name is Kalliope! But you can call me Kaylo! Welcome to Timeville!" She chirped. Y/N raised an eyebrow. She looked WAY to energetic for her own good. "Yeah. Thanks" you said. "I hope you have a good time in Timeville! Everyone is very nice!...Except for the Kellers..." she muttered under her breath "The Who?" You asked with a raised eyebrow "Erm...They're another family that live in Timeville, but they cause a lot of trouble...maybe try and steer clear of them." Kaylo said.

Y/N looked confused, How bad COULD they be? "Anyway, You should come and meet my friends!" Kaylo suggested, a VERY big smile on her face. Y/N shrugged "Sure. Lead the way." You said as she grabbed your hand and pulled you along. Even while she was speedwalking you through the town, you could see the bright colors of the buildings that inhabited this new city.

Kaylo pulled you towards a very large park looking area towards a small group of kids "Hey Guys! Meet Y/N! They're new in town!" She chirped "Y/N, meet Mei Hualing" She said, pointing towards a black haired girl with a lotus clip in her hair "Rebecca Reynolds" she said, pointing towards towards a brown haired girl drawing in a sketchbook "Trisha Jane Postrado" She said, gazing at a girl with a very bright wardrobe, and multi-colored eyelashes "Leo Craig." She said towards a boy with blonde spiked hair and a bandana "And Emma Cole!" She said, pointing at a girl with pigtails and big green eyes.

Mei smiled up at you "Hi there Y/N. Welcome to Timeville!" She said, holding out a hand to shale "Thanks! That's actually the second time someone here had said that." Y/N said jokingly. Leo flashed a smirk "Well trust us, you have a whole town to get through." He joked. Y/N chuckled "What brings you to Timeville?" Trisha Jane asked "My mom got a new job out here, and just moved from NYC."

"What's her new job?" Emma asked, curious as to what could have brought them out to the quaint little town. "She works at some sweet shop now...what was it called...Sugar and Spice Bakery?" Y/N struggled to say, trying to remember the name of the place. "Oh! My aunt actually owns the place!" Kaylo said, her eyes lighting up.

"Huh. Small world." Y/N said. Suddenly, a large, but loud tremor rattled through the town, knocking you all over "WHOA! What the heck was that?!" Y/N shouted. "Guys...we gotta go. NOW." Rebecca whispered to Leo. "Um, we have to go somewhere...but we'll be back! It was nice meeting you!" Mei shouted, before the kids ran away, leaving you behind.

Y/N's eyebrows rose. What the heck was that about? Your phone goes off, and a text shows your mom shouting at you to come to your new home to make sure that you were OK. You roll your eyes. You still had NO idea where your new home even WAS. you barely were even in town for 5 minutes, and now earthquakes were rumbling through the town. But you still were a bit...curious about the kids that had ran off in a hurry, they seemed to know the town like the back of their hands, and they could probably help you find where your new home was.

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

#Balan Wonderworld #Leo Craig #Emma Cole

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justaduckarts · 2 years ago

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9. “They just… Seem so familiar but I can’t put my finger on why that is.” maybe some Avery/Alex content? Looking with big ol eyes

Ohohoh Someone requesting... OC content? :) Glimpses content? Lil crossover?

I gotchu <3

The park was as lively as ever. You, mercifully, had the day off and the park wasn't exactly where you wanted to be, but...

"The meet and greet is supposed to be near the big top," Avery said excitedly, "do you think Chica will sign my book?" They grinned at you.

"Of course she will! All the kids talk about how nice she is," you tucked your hands into your pockets, "but, uh, try not to overwhelm her, okay?"

"I know," Avery adjusted their glasses, "I'll try not to." You lightly bumped their shoulder with yours.

"You got this," you said warmly.

Finally, the two of you were getting into line. Avery had insisted upon arriving an hour early for the meet and greet, and they'd been right- the line was already kind of long. You suspected by the time the meet started, the line would span the length of the carnival.

You also noticed the line was mostly kids and parents. Not that you cared, particularly. Your friend wanted to see the trapeze chicken, and by golly, you were gonna make it happen.

The first 45 minutes of the wait were smooth sailing. Avery had brought their notebook and they were more than happy to scribble away at their ideas for their next engineering project.

You, similarly, never left home without a sketchbook.

It was when you made the mistake of pulling out your colored pencils to add some details to your latest drawing of Moon (with the cat ears, of course) that things took a turn.

"Mama, they have colors!"

You cringed as soon as you heard the excitable little voice. You liked kids well enough. But these were not cheap colored pencils. That aside, the line was PACKED with antsy children, and you definitely didn't have enough for everyone. But if one got to color...

"Excuse me." Yep, there it is.

"Yes, ma'am?" You turned a friendly smile to the woman.

"I noticed you've got some coloring supplies," she said, "do you think my daughter could color with you?" She gently nudged forward a wide-eyed girl with wild curls. The little girl was wearing a too-big pink shirt with Chica's logo on it. Oh no. She's adorable. She grinned up at you shyly.

Ugh. Your one weakness.

"I think that would be okay," you smiled. Seating yourself on the pavement, you offered the girl a clean page from your sketchbook and the pencil box. She took the pink pencil instantly.

"Thank you," her mother said warmly. Well. If it made the kid happy, and no one else was fussing.

Except, that's not exactly what happened.

Just a few minutes later, a particularly energetic boy came running up the line. You'd seen him hanging from the rails earlier and he'd already done quite a bit of screaming and stomping.

And as he spotted you and the little girl coloring, he switched gears immediately.

Honestly, if he'd asked nicely, there wouldn't have been a problem.

But instead, the little boy came stomping up. He snatched the pencil from the little girl and shouted, "I wanna color!"

"Give that back!" The little girl sprang up.

Well. You should have seen this coming.

"No! I want to color!" The little boy stomped his feet. He stomped right on the little girl's drawing of Chica, effectively ruining it. The little girl screamed. She began to wail.

"Hey," you said, "that's my pencil. And I didn't say you could use it. Give it back, please." You held your hand out for the pencil. The boy shied away. Now he was dealing with an adult and seemed less confident in his demands.

"Excuse me?" And here we go again. A man, already red in the face, came storming up. He towered over you.

"Let my son color," he demanded. You frowned.

"Sir, your little boy just came up and snatched the pencil from her," you gestured to the still crying little girl. By this time, her mother was working on damage control, comforting her and shushing her. "Don't you think he should apologize for ruining her drawing? Or, I dunno, ask nicely?"

"Don't tell me how to raise my kid," the man snapped. You got to your feet, seeing this was going to be an issue. Avery, beside you, shrank from all the yelling.

"I'm not. I'm telling you I don't have to let him color if he's going to be rude," you frowned, "now, I'd like my pencil back."

The little boy, seeing his father take the offensive, had decided not to listen to you. Just to spite you, he snapped your colored pencil in half and threw it.

Well. That's a shame.

"That was a really expensive pencil..." You sighed, "look, just take your kid and leave us be." You turned back to the father. "I'm not letting him color with my stuff. Definitely not after breaking a pencil."

The father huffed. "Coloring is for children! You shouldn't be coloring in the first place." He looked between you and Avery who was half-hidden behind you.

"What, are you two here to meet Chica? Adults?" The man's voice was beginning to raise in volume.

"Does that matter?" Your frown deepened. It was getting hard to keep your tone even, but you could tell Avery was already overwhelmed.

"'Scuse me," came yet another voice. Deep, stern. You were expecting maybe security to be there to tell the man to back off.

Instead, a man with brown eyes and a leather jacket (in this heat? Seriously?) stood there. He had a little boy with him, and the boy shifted nervously under the burning gaze of the angry father.

"What?" The father snapped at the leather-clad man.

"Yeah, you're uh, you're yelling," the man in the leather jacket said, "they told you they're not giving your brat anymore pencils to break. So piss off."

"What did you just-

"Dude. The yelling. Shut up already," the man in the leather jacket huffed, "insane that you're calling them childish when you're the one throwing the tantrum." A few snickers jumped out of the other parents around the two. The father bristled further, preparing to shout.

Right as he opened his mouth, the man with the leather jacket spoke again. "Yeah, you can save it. No one wants to hear it. Also, your voice is like... nails on a chalkboard or something. You ever heard of cough drops?" The man smirked, evidently really enjoying riling up the red-faced father.

And then the father swung. Avery let out a tiny yelp, covering their eyes. You watched, jaw hanging open, as the strange man in the leather jacket took the hit. He stumbled, straightened back up, and smiled.

"Well. You know the law," the man in the leather jacket shrugged. "Something, something, self-defense?" He was about to punch the father's ticket when yet another of Avery's little yelps stopped him. Brown eyes flicked over to the cowering person on the ground. Beanie and glasses askew.

"...Hm," relaxing, the man in the leather jacket dropped his fist. As if on cue, security came rolling up. Derek snagged the belligerent father by the back of the shirt and yanked him from the line.

What a whirlwind.

"Hey," the man brushed right past you to crouch in front of Avery, "you good?"

Hesitantly, Avery peeked at the strange man between their fingers.

"I'm okay," they mumbled.

"Hey there, Okay. I'm Alex," he grinned. Avery chuckled.

"Sorry for the uh, scene," Alex carried on, "I can get... passionate. Are you really okay?"

"Yeah," Avery's hands dropped and they smiled up at Alex. Alex nodded.

"Cool. Well, I hope you enjoy meeting the uh, the chicken, right?" He turned to his son, who nodded excitedly.

"Yeah, her name's Chica," Avery said, excitement renewed, "she's so cool! Did you know she has the lightest endoskeleton? It's so Roxy can catch her in the air! She's also- Oh, sorry." Avery laughed.

"It's cool," Alex shrugged, "I take you're also the passionate type?"

"In a sense," Avery nodded. Their face tinted a glorious shade of pink. You couldn't believe your eyes. But you also couldn't stop smiling.

Before Alex could ask Avery for their name (or their number), the line was moving once more. Avery shot to their feet and caught you by the arm.

"Oh my gosh, we'll miss it," they said excitedly. "Oh, uh, bye, Alex! It was nice meeting you!" Avery waved. Alex waved back. He grabbed his son's hand and led him back to their spot in line, thanking the woman behind him for saving it.

As the two of you walked, Avery's expression shifted. You looked at them curiously.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Avery shook their head.

"Just..." Their brow knit. "He just seemed so familiar. I can't put my finger on why that is."

"Maybe he was your lover in a past life," you joked. Avery's face burned and they laughed.

"Him and me? No way. He's way too cool for me," they rubbed the back of their neck.

"I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," you squeezed Avery's hand. Their blush darkened and they looked at their stained up converse.

"I hope we run into him again," they said quietly.

You couldn't help but agree.

#justaduckarts #glimpse of us #DLNS #crossover #oc content #avery my beloved #alex my beloved #the otp is strong #sorry that there's so much tension at first #had to set the scene

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myblacknightworld · 2 years ago

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Randomly thinking about the merandette royal au again 😔✌️ sorry for the bad quality, I haven't used sketchbook in years and i don't rember how to adjust the pixel thingy

For those who don't know, I created this au on discord with @livehorses and another friend like, 3/4 years ago

More under the cut

So, more about this au - and I'm reading straight from my notes -

Mérante

Mérante is the king

For some reason in this au Regine is his step-sister, and Camille "works" at the palace as a companion lady or however they're called

When he was younger, and still a prince, he was bethroted to Odette, but the bethrotal was abandoned

When I say he is shook when he finds out where Odette is ✌️

Odette

Odette is from a noble family

HOWEVER her family was already on their last leg when she was younger

What can I say, they weren't making much money and some family members spent more than they could afford

Which is why her father was searching for a good husband. Rich.

The surprise when, lo and behold, Odette became friends with the prince and well, a bethrotal was struck

Unfortunately there was a fire at the family's mansion, her family perished and Odette sustained an injury that crippled her for life. Swell, right?

LIFE OF POVERTY

But hey!

Nothing turns your life around more than catching a little thief who decides she's gonna adopt you as a parental figure, amirite?

Being in need of a job, because now she's got a kid (Félicie) and a half (Victor) depending on her and she's got next to no money, she decides to ask for a job at the royal palace

They start working at the palace and drama ensues because well

Mérante lives there and they were bethroted

Félicie

Félicie, like in canon, decides to run away from the orphanage with Victor

Thieving and robbing is so much better than being a child slave for some rich people

When she's 8, she tries to rob Odette, but Odette caught her

Odette lets her go after much begging and pleading, but Félicie decides to stick around because she's understood that Odette is a kind person underneath her rough exterior

They live like that for a while with Victor popping up from time to time

And then Odette says they're moving to the palace because she's got a job

Of course, she gets into so much trouble, but she also manages to make friends with Nora and Dora, two girls who work as companion ladies for Lady Regine (they hate that so much)

She's there when Mérante finds out Odette is working at the palace and well, after prying part of the story from Odette

She hires Nora and Dora for a marriage plot

More on the story, generally speaking

Regine has a plot to get rid of her step-brother via unspecified murder

It is quite important, yes

When there was the fire, Mérante did search for Odette, but couldn't find her and believed her dead

Which is also why Odette is angry with him when they meet again at the palace

She didn't know he did search for her and believed he'd abandoned her

So much drama!!!!

Anyway, after drama, hijinks of various nature, Victor who sneaks in and starts working as the royal buffoon, Regine who definitely hates there's someone there who could become queen and tries to send the two of them away

Marriage!

So now Odette is queen and Félicie finds herself a princess

Félicie becomes friends with Camille, after getting to know her when her mother is not there and she is not under pression

Enter Rudy (and his father) stage left

His father really, really, really wants his son to be married (or bethroted at least) before he croaks, and which reign just got itself a princess?

This is not a deus ex machina, why are you asking

Anyway, back to the main plot, a few months after the happily ever after for her brother, Regine decides that kidnapping the wife and child is a good idea, because then she can try to poison Mérante and blame Odette and Félicie

I am still straight up copying from my notebook btw

The unlikely alliance of Rudy and Victor does thwart Regine's plan, though.

And Camille does help Odette and Félicie when a second murder attempt ensues

My notes end here quite abruptly

Much sad

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alisa-sokolov17 · 10 months ago

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Virtual Sketchbook

an introduction, tell us one little known fact about you.

Hello all! My name is Alisa Sokolov and a few facts about me are that I love to be outdoors running or spending time at the beach. I recently moved from Illinois and love the weather here in Florida much better.

2. Then, in list form, detail 5 new facts you were able to find out about your assigned artist or the art work.

Christo and Jeanne-Claude 1979-2005 The Gates. Steel, Vinyl, Fabric; 7,503 gates, 16’ tall, 23 miles

-This piece of art was found in Central park which included the completion of 7,503 panels which were made out of fabric.

-The fabric was weaved, sown and all put together in Germany.

-The Gates were fully financed by Christo and Jeanne-Claude and they did not take any donations or help from anyone else.

-The Gates looked like two different things from different angles. When looking at it from above, it looked like a golden river as it was flowing through the leafless tree branches.

-The teams that installed these Gates were responsible for installing 100 panels per team. Each team included 8 people.

3. Did the way you think about the art change from the first time you looked at it? Do you see anything different in the art now?

When I first found out about this assignment, I expected my piece to be a painting or a drawing but this was an interesting idea to call art but definitely expanded my mind to more art as this piece is a big selection of pieces all put together to create one big piece of artwork. My idea of art changed a lot because art is more than just a picture or painting. I was able to see more detail in my art piece knowing how much effort was put into it as well as the color being so bright which can bring someone so much joy on a gloomy day.

2. Art and writing

The piece of art I chose for this assignment is a painting of a river in the center, tall trees on each side of the river and some mountains in the back. This piece of art is very beautiful in my opinion because it is simple and easy to tell what it is. It is painted so it looks as if it were very textured although that is just the illusion because it was used with paint. The use it serves on my wall is adding a pop of color to a whole wall. It brings out the life of the wall because of the colors used in this painting. I personally see it as beauty because the scenery reminds me of Colorado which I think is beautiful

3. Writing a self portrait

The baggage I bring along with me when I look at art, are the memories that go with the art. I am a very visual person so when I look at something, I instantly start thinking and remembering memories from my childhood that relate to when I am looking at. I am 21 and am loving this age and stage of life. I am a woman and I am proud of it. I am Russian, grew up with Russian speaking parents and grandparents so that was the first language I learned. I am originally from Chicago, Illinois but moved to Florida a few years ago and have been living here ever since. I don’t have too much time to just have fun but I love to play pickleball with my friends. It has been so much fun to be active with my closest friends. As well as playing pickleball, I love to go to the beach and spend time out in the sun. I am very involved in my church playing piano every Sunday and going to bible studies throughout the week. It’s an honor learning about the bible with other fellow believers! I work as a nanny for a family I met when I first moved. I watch 4 little kids that I absolutely love! I am also a substitute teacher at a school that is part of my church. I enjoy that job as well. Something that makes me unique is that I am a very down to earth person and am down for anything anytime. My personality is different from everyone’s, I love to be outgoing but can also just be chill and relaxed when I want to.

4. Art project (Self Portrait)

All of these pictures describe who I am as a person. The sum this all up, I will talk about the different photos in this collage! I am very musical, i enjoy playing the guitar which is pictured here as well and playing the piano. There are many photos here of me outside because i love the outdoor! At the bottom is a picture of my friend group and I catching a shark! This was a great experience that does not happen everyday. I love to be active and workout as well and go ice skating. I used to play hockey back in Illinois and I loved it. The bottom middle picture is me helping out with media at a church conference. I enjoy baking which explains the photo of the decorated christmas cookies! I would also say I love energy drink. The top middle photo is my brother and I drinking celsius; we really enjoy them! I also enjoy going to the shooting range when I have free time.

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isawthewolf9 · 1 year ago

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My MIL has many many faults but i cant lie i am completely fascinated by her. This is a woman who says shes 20 mins away and shows up 3 days later. Always has a different man giving her rides always has her makeup on, a true trailer park queen. Always on the move doing different random missions, traveling all over the island, staying in hotels and friends houses all the time. Smoking cigarettes and drawing in her sketchbook wherever she is. By no means a good mother AT ALL but i cant help admiring certain things about her, shes very strong and keeps a good mood no matter how much shit life throws at her...she has a very interesting backstory left home at 16 and got married and had kids very young. She never really got the chance to be young and free so in her 40s now shes living a very wild transient life. Idk rant over

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consistentlyexhausted · 2 years ago

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It's nearly 3 am

It's really dark tonight where I live.

I can see a few faint stars through my window and the glow of streetlights nearby.

My dog has noticed I'm awake, I can feel her judging me because of the *click click* of my keyboard as I'm sitting in bed, writing in this new kind of blog I am doing.

I can hear the wind through the slightly open window, bringing in a cool draft that I am strangely enjoying. I am a consistently cold human but here I am.

Sometimes I can even hear one of the London Underground trains just pulling into the local station, wheels clacking over the rails as it rounds the bend and into the town itself. I've been on that train, not this early but, as I live outside of London and used to have a need of going to things like galleries and exhibitions, the sound is somewhat soothing to me.

It brings back fond memories of a time when my brother, who is older than me by eight years, used to take me up to London with him. He was massively into Photography then, film mostly, and holds a bachelors in it after his own struggle with his mental health.

He doesn't do it much anymore and I also fell out of love with it after studying it for two years and spectacularly shredding all of my previous sketchbooks as a way of dramatically telling myself and the world around me that I had defeated this little nagging thing called

Self-criticism.

We've all been there, haven't we? Mine is just a generational family trait apparently as my father has it too.

I haven't quite defeated that little part of myself yet but in a way that crippling, nagging little demon living in my head has taught me so much.

It has taught me to really listen to myself.

I know, a bad idea for some but for others, me included, I had completely lost that sense of

Am I doing the right thing by myself?

I learned so much in college, don't get me wrong. I can still take photos but I wasn't being true to myself while doing it. I had the sudden inspiration to make something cool but I wasn't doing it for myself, I was doing it for whatever little demon was in my head telling me it was what I wanted to do with my life.

No, past me, it wasn't. Was it?

If I could have sat myself down back then and told myself what to do, I would probably have said...

Are you sure? Are you 100% sure this is what you want to do?

Halfway through the two-year course, I should have seen the writing on the wall. I was in therapy for anxiety and panic attacks. My therapist Becky should have looked me in the eye and asked me yet another question.

Is there something under the surface of this anxiety?

Oh, young me of course there was but you didn't want to admit to yourself that instead of doing your coursework, you were writing stories. Instead of working on photos, you were trying to hold yourself together. You would spend hours in the black and white film processing lab just reveling in the fact you weren't in a classroom you know you didn't want to be in. You enjoyed the processing because you were in a room the size of an average portaloo in the pitch dark where you could just listen to yourself breathe for five minutes, or ten if the film didn't go on the reel.

And you were working at the same time at the local supermarket, straight after college on Thursdays and Fridays and on Saturday evenings. Yeah, you had a good time with your friends but you enjoyed work more.

Only one of those people was your friend then, and she didn't stay that way for long.

I only have a couple of friends now and I don't see them often or at all for most of the year.

I won't lie to myself and say I'm not lonely

I am.

I really am.

But past me, you were kinda lonely too. You've always struggled to make friends, and you were bullied a hell of a lot in every year of school. Kids are cruel and you were vulnerable.

I still haven't figured out why but I'm at peace with the fact that that will always be a part of me. I don't think I'm sensitive, nor do I blame the ones that did it.

They say Sticks and Stones will break your bones and words will never hurt you but, my god, words do hurt.

I think it fundamentally changed me as a person. An overused expression that someone out there will call me dramatic for.

But I digress.

It changed me because while I'm not that kid scared of going into a classroom without my mum, I am now a person that is just beginning to do things on my own. It's weird, I'm 21 but it is taking me a long time to figure myself out.

That might be a symptom of something or just a symptom of my upbringing but here I am just figuring out my life.

That bullying has changed me because, while I never used to be outgoing, I was one of those people who could just listen and that remains. I won't pat myself on the head and give myself a gold star for being a good listener, I will however give myself some credit where credit is due.

I haven't lost that part of myself.

Even in this uphill battle of mental health, I have not lost the ability to listen. While I have had my own problems and shutting down for days, I would still read a long-winded text from someone about their own problems and provide a shoulder to cry on or an ear to scream into if they needed it.

Heck, It didn't even stick to my circle of family and friends.

I still do that now and I probably always will.

And listening to myself took a long time to learn. It's odd really, being able to listen to others and yet not being able to listen to yourself.

Now I don't have that inner voice thing a lot of people have. I don't have the whole Homer Simpson screaming thing going on in my head to tell me something is wrong. I have to break a cycle to see if it was one.

I had to think, I had to have an epiphany (no joke) on a train to one of those beloved exhibitions while trying to figure out how to do a project to make me realise I was unhappy. I went to my tutor the next day, asked him if I could speak to him quietly, and told him that I would shred all of my textbooks because I hated and I mean hated what I had become while doing them.

I don't have any photos of that beautiful, shapely pile of shredded work, shredded photo paper, and torn sketchbooks but to those who can imagine perfectly

Picture a round grey rug in the slap-bang middle of a studio, piled high with a mound of shredded paper in the middle. One of those folding tables that you had when you were off ill from school and your parent (or guardian) would make you something like toast and, because they didn't want crumbs on the sofa or the floor, they would get out one of these wooden, folding tables so you had to sit up, feeling like death, and eat. On the plus side, you could watch daytime television while enjoying dry toast.

Now add to this picture, with added fond memories of Bargain Hunt, one of those bendy lamps that kinda look like the ones from the Pixar logo except that it's got a weird noodly jointed bit in the middle. That is shining on this pile of stuff, like a comical ray of a god's light on a mortal in some kind of Disney movie.

That is what it looked like.

I never got to see it. I wish I had because that was, unknowingly, the first time I listened to myself.

I never looked back after that. I've still got three prints of abandoned buildings I took on a gorgeous medium format film camera. I still have all of my negatives and a camera from that time but, the last time I developed film was then, and the last time I sat in a classroom thinking about writing was then.

I have often wondered if that college course (And retaking my English GCSE at the same time, ironic I know) was the spark that lit the fire as one might say.

I started listening to myself more and more.

I Got moved to a different department by people that didn't want me there, listened to myself, and moved to one I loved.

I started to go through a depressive episode, listened to myself, and went to the doctor.

I started to resent not being able to do anything physical at my job, I listened to myself and found another one.

I enjoyed that job but I wasn't allowed to prove myself and work on something a lot more demanding, I listened to myself and told my manager that I wanted to do it and that I would prove that I could.

News Flash! I did and I lifted a combined total of 2 tonnes in one day with breaks of course. Who said I couldn't.

But we all have slip-ups, don't we?

Crushing my hand under one of these 40kg kegs was not a fun thing, getting in the work accident book wasn't either.

I stopped listening to myself then.

I stopped listening to myself when I started getting really dark intrusive thoughts, I stopped listening to myself when those thoughts turned to suicidal ideation and I started spiraling into depression.

People began to notice.

And although I have never intentionally harmed myself, people do notice when you look defeated, when you look unhappy, and when you can no longer look someone in the eye.

I betrayed myself. I stopped listening to the right things and started listening to the bad things my mind would create.

Past me, you had those, didn't you? You never told anyone that you thought about hurting yourself or taking your own life.

That depression started taking over my life. I started missing days of work because I couldn't get out of bed. I started hiding my feelings from people, masking my problems because I thought no one actually cared and that no one would have missed me if I was gone.

Until I woke up one day, went into the bathroom, and sat on the floor for an hour. I thought everything was crashing down around me, a buzzing filling my head and just intrusive, suicidal thoughts constantly running around. I remember texting my dad and saying.

I need to phone the doctor.

I did.

I got put on medication for the third, maybe fourth time in my life. A minimal dose to keep me from tipping over the edge. I got on well with those until I started getting worse.

I won't lie and say I have felt worse.

No, not even Gastroenteritis made me feel the way I did then. It was paralysing, utterly paralysing. For the first time, my Dad had to stay at home with me to keep me safe. I could not do anything but I still kept myself just on the edge of staying here.

Maybe I'm a little proud as I'm writing this for still being here.

I thought about it, of course. I had things I could do it with but I never did.

I had my medication doubled to what it is now. I referred myself to a service called Healthy Minds and got assessed.

I scored 27 out of 30 on the depression score with 0-10 being minor, 10-15 being moderate, and 15-30 being severe.

Severe is a hard word. I can't think of anything good associated with severe.

It put it all into perspective when I was told they could not offer me the two usual things because I was too severe to do them. I had to go for the next step up, One-on-one phone CBT.

A few people might know what that means but for the few that don't, it's Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It is essentially trying to retrain our minds and change our thought patterns away from what they call 'unhelpful thoughts'. They give you tools to be able to do this.

Things such as:

Identifying vicious cycles and how to break them

Understanding what our unhelpful thoughts mean and how to counteract them by breaking them down and thinking of things that would make them untrue.

Setting goals for your week to start to regain a routine

Building on that routine by splitting into what is routine, necessary or pleasurable and doing them as such.

I am working on the latter now.

And I have gone from Severe to Moderate for the first time.

That means that while it doesn't entirely rule my life anymore, it is still there and still an issue.

An issue I am determined to overcome.

I will wear my resilience like a badge of honour in the future. I just have to get there first.

Things are changing in my life.

My brother, who I am close to, is moving from his home in Plymouth to Canada quite soon with his girlfriend. The distance of a few hours by car or coach will be paired with an ocean and a few time zones. One part of me is happy for them, and the other part is sad for me.

My parents are divorced now, this happened at some point during this long-winded story and it means I will be leaving the home I have always known soon. The house is essentially sold, and these four walls will soon no longer be my safe space. I will have to unpack that in another post soon.

You may have also noticed that I have only mentioned my mum once in this and that was in the part when I was small. She's alive but we don't have a great relationship. It's a difficult thing and something I will also later write about.

I have to start looking for a place to live. I won't be living alone, however, I don't think I can mentally or financially, I will be living with my Dad whom I have always been close to and will always be close to. He is my rock. I will become a co-homeowner at the age of 21. I know how fortunate I am to be in that position, something good can come from something bad like an ugly divorce.

At the end of it all, I want to be able to say I am happy.

I want to be able to shout it, scream it, write it, and cry while doing it.

To all those who have stayed until the very end of this.

Thank you, I really appreciate you having the patience to read what might as well be my life story judging by its sheer length.

To all of those going through what I am.

Keep fighting, and keep thinking of reasons to be here. You are so much stronger than you know and this storm in the middle of an ocean is just a hurdle, just another thing on your journey. I am so proud of you for being here still.

It is now 25 minutes to 5 am. I started this at nearly 3am.

No, I cannot sleep but I'm trying.

Toodles,

Scarlett

#mental health #mental health blog #loving yourself

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juniper-sunny · 2 years ago

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The Art in the Heart - Chapter 10

It’s time to tell Silco the whole truth of your history. Who knows if it might scare him off for good…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act I | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | TW: Mentions of Bullying, Mugging, Offscreen Death | WC: 2.27k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

taglist: @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

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This might be the last time you ever get to enjoy Silco’s company, and yet you’re staring at the ground. But maybe it’s better that way; if you look into his seafoam teal eyes, you’re liable to drown. They contain the same passion and intensity as the ocean itself, a force of nature that is at times beautifully tranquil, but can never be tamed or controlled.

You wonder if you’ve studied his face enough by now to be able to depict him accurately in a painting. The soulfulness of his eyes alone would take hours to capture, not to mention mixing countless different paints to get that precise color that’s not quite a true blue or green, but something in between. The complexity of the color matched only by the hidden depths of the man himself.

Will your memories be enough of a reference? If he refuses to pose for a portrait?

You should meet his eyes when you talk to him. It’s the least he deserves. But your neck won’t obey you and your head won’t turn either.

(You don’t deserve to look at him.)

Well, no use in putting this off any longer. Clearing your throat hurts, but you finally begin.

“Do you remember how I started working for Pilties?” You had told him that morning a long time ago, the day after the burglary.

“You were selling paintings at a Progress Day fair, when you were 17 years old,” Silco recalls. “When you were about to be arrested for vending without a permit, a philanthropic Topside merchant came to your rescue. He was so impressed by your skill he declared himself your patron on the spot.”

Despite yourself, you feel a beaming pride at the memory. “He wanted portraits for him and his entire family. He had a wife and four kids, so it was a literal jackpot. It was a pain in the ass getting them to pose, though.”

The lump in your throat returns with a vengeance, a harsh, choking pain. Along with memories and old wounds resurfacing that you normally try to keep at bay. It’s been a long time since you actively recalled them. The act of confession seems to worsen your agony.

“At that time I was still living here, at Janna’s Hearth. Kharon, Teema, and Cuny were happy for me, but the other kids… weren’t,” you say slowly. “They’d say stuff like I was a Piltie bitch, or that I was turning my back on the Undercity. Some said that my real mom was a prostitute and that my dad was a Topsider, so I should just leave the orphanage and go ‘home’.” That one gets a chuckle out of you.

Silco grimaces. “That’s not funny at all.”

You shrug. “It’s just kids talking shit, you know? But then… it started getting worse.”

Telling Silco about the bullying is easier than you thought. It’s been so long now, you suppose it’s a blessing that there are some memories you’re emotionally detached from at all: your paints getting stolen, paintbrushes destroyed, sketchbooks torn up. Some of your already completed canvases had even been burned, forcing you to request a delay in commission deadlines.

(And you deserved every minute of it.)

It doesn’t seem to be easy listening for Silco, though. For all his experience as a revolutionary, you’d think he’d be made of tougher stuff. His face turns stiff as stone, his grave demeanor betrayed only by the trembling of his clenched fists.

“My friends really pulled through for me,” you continue. “Gita and Kai would take turns watching my stuff when I wasn’t around. Nyle beat some of the bullies up too. They were great… and then they started asking for money.

“I was happy to give it to them at first. But Gita and Kai kept asking for more and more, and they didn’t want to hang out unless I had money for them. That’s when I told them to piss off,” you admit. You hope that Silco won’t ask you to go into more detail; part of your ego never healed from the fact that your “friends” wanted you to pay for the pleasure of their company.

You can’t help the way you sound: spoiled by your good luck. Complaining about having more than enough money to help your friends.

(You really do sound like a Piltie bitch right now.)

“What about Nyle?” Silco asks grimly.

“Oh, she was great,” you say with a watery smile. “Never asked for a single coin. We moved in together. She even insisted on splitting all the bills.

“Then one night… I was walking home,” you hunch in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees. Fisting the cuff of your pants until your knuckles turn white. “I had just gotten paid… and someone was following me. I tried to get away, but they caught up to me. I ended up losing all my money that night.”

Silco’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “What did they do to you??”

“Oh, nothing,” you cringe at the misunderstanding. (Don’t make Silco pity you for something that never happened. Stop trying to make a martyr of yourself.) “They never touched me. I just threw my money at them to get away. But that was my half of rent for the month.

“Nyle lost her shit at me that night. It turned out that Gita and Kai were sharing the money they got from me with her. That way Nyle could play both sides,” Even after all this time, a bitter part of you is still impressed by your former best friend’s duplicity. Part of the guilt in your chest dissolves into an acidic, burning anger. “Apparently she had been making me pay the entirety of the rent without telling me. I don’t know why she didn’t just ask me when we first moved in, I would’ve been fine with it.

“Anyways… She kicked me out that night. I— I didn’t have anywhere else to go. If Kharon hadn’t found me—“ The tightness in your throat intensifies. Your jaw locks and it hurts to swallow.

That night inflicted scars that never quite healed yet. It hurt to be treated so badly.

(But they needed you. You were a bad friend. And you’re a bad person. Does Silco know what a failure you are?)

“I owe Kharon, Teema, and Cuny everything. I actually live and work here when I’m not on a job. I only stay at the Promenade when I have to meet with Topside clients… apparently people who live in the Undercity for too long smell bad,” you roll your eyes.

“Where are they now? Your ‘friends’,” Silco’s voice is hard and cold.

It’s been a long battle, but you finally give up: your vision swims with tears that start pooling in your eyes. With a wobbling voice, you answer mournfully, “Kai died in the mines. Gita’s missing… no one’s been able to track her down for years. I think Nyle’s a tattoo artist in the Lanes.”

You still need to pull yourself together. If Silco hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s still one more thing you need to spell out for him.

It’s the hardest, but most important thing to say. The heartbreak can come later.

“It was all my fault… If I were a better person… I could’ve saved them. I should have saved them. But I was too greedy… I wanted to keep my friends and my money. And now I have money and no friends,” the mirthless sound that escapes you is more of a cough than a laugh. “Do you still want a spoiled, selfish brat like me in the Children?”

Silco pulls you in for a hug before you finish your question. His arms wrap tight around you as you finally succumb to great, heaving sobs.

It’s not just the shame and remorse from past demons that’s tearing your heart apart right now.

Now that Silco knows everything, he’s going to leave you. And that terrifies you.

You’ll never see him again.

As if he can read your thoughts, Silco starts wiping your tears. Pulling you in closer, forcing you to lower your legs so you’re pressed into his torso.

“You are none of those things,” he says softly. “You did no wrong in those terrible circumstances. Listen to me,” he places his hands on the side of your head. Firmly but gently tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “You must understand this: the ones who dared call themselves your ‘friends’ betrayed you. All they did was take advantage of your generosity.”

“But—”

“You didn’t fail them,” he cuts you off, correctly anticipating your counterargument. “Their well-being was not your responsibility. Even if it were, that would have been too much for any one individual to handle alone.

“You did nothing wrong,” he repeats.

With his hands still holding your face, you can’t turn away. It’s almost disorienting, the effect his words have on you. Warmth and relief are twin arms around your heart. They’re not quite enough to save you from drowning, but they pull a great deal of weight off your shoulders, making it easier for you to swim to the surface.

One of Silco’s hands wraps around the back of your head. The other holds your chin. Directing your gaze upwards as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I will say it as many times as you need to hear it… You’re perfect,” he whispers.

It’s not enough to pull you out of the waters you’ve been treading for years. But in between your sobs, you take a deep, gasping inhale, filling your lungs and body with a renewed vitality.

Your hands rise to touch him. The action is involuntary, but feels perfectly natural. One of your hands falls on the side of his neck. The other rests on his shoulder.

“You’re cute, too,” Silco’s nose touches yours. You hear the smile in his voice more than you see it. He’s so close to you now.

You sniffle and laugh. “I’m surprised you remembered last night.”

(“And I meant it when I said you were cute. You are cute. Feel free to ask me when I’m sober. I’ll tell you again and again, as many times as you need to hear it.”)

“Don’t you know? I always keep my promises,” he says under his breath.

His lips part. The perfect space to fit yours against him.

All you need to do is lean in closer…

And closer…

And—

“Auntie?” Vi’s voice shatters the moment. The little girl stands in the doorway.

You pull back with a gasp. Breaking free from Silco’s hands.

“Hi sweetie!” You squeak out. Jumping to your feet. Almost stepping on Silco in your haste to run to Vi. Silco’s words and the intimate moment have you wound up, your heart hammering erratically and palms sweating.

He scoots backwards. Eyes following your progress across the room.

You crouch down next to the little girl, determinedly fixing your gaze on her. “What’s up?”

“Is my rabbit here?” The little girl asks.

Silco notices the toy. It’s still next to the bed that Powder was hiding under. He picks it up and hands it to you, looking you in the eyes when he does so.

You take it from him without returning his gaze.

“Here you go, Vi,” you tell her. “Have you finished breakfast yet?”

“No.”

“Tell Kharon I said it’s okay for you to have seconds,” you pat her head. “You have to eat a lot so you grow big and strong!” Hopefully the manic energy in your voice comes off as enthusiastic and not panicky.

After receiving another smooch on her forehead, Vi dashes off.

You’re tempted to run after her. But you can't leave Silco behind. You stand and take a deep breath, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Whatever on earth for?” Silco asks, getting to his feet. Stepping closer to you.

It’s hard to find the right words. To describe how much Silco means to you. His friendship, his support, his countless kindnesses…

It means everything. So much more than you can say.

Instead of speaking, you hug him. Standing on tiptoe to wrap your arms around his neck.

He reciprocates immediately. Lean but corded arms wrapping around your waist. Nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

He keeps you warm. Not just with how comforting his arms are around you, but also melting the painful frost that’s trapped your heart for so long.

You don’t know how long you both hold each other in silence. It’s nice enough that you want it to last forever. Two moons orbiting each other, unable and unwilling to break free to rejoin the greater galaxy. You press your face into his chest while he strokes your hair.

Silco’s stomach gurgles. Rumbling the moment like shattering glassware.

You wince when you pull away from him. “I’m so sorry, I forgot you haven’t eaten. Why don’t you go and get some—”

“I’m fine,” Silco insists. He looks as chagrined as you feel. “Besides, we have many more rooms to finish.”

“I can take care of it—”

“Please, allow me to help you,” Silco says. “Then perhaps you’d like to join me for brunch?”

You take a moment to ponder his offer. Even if you weren’t starting to get hungry yourself, good food is always more enjoyable in good company.

And Silco is the best company you could ever hope to ask for.

When you tell Silco yes, he beams at you.

Gods, what a beautiful smile. You hope you’ll get the chance to paint it one day.

Chapter 11

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH #bullying tw #mugging tw #death tw

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moved-to-cinnamon-phrog · 2 years ago

Note

rank dhmis characters from favorite to least favorite?

:D Gladly! Sorry I took awhile my laptop was having a tantrum and didn't want to cooperate

O A T S

I love him so much he is the most complex and 5 dimensional character in the entire DHMIS series I loved that bit where he saved those orphans from a burning building.

2. Yellow Guy

Look at him. He is exquisite. He's made of nothing but sunshine and lemon easter peeps and his brain is made of candy-floss.

Fr he is my favourite, for multiple reasons which are very intricate and personal to my being and if I said them all you'd be reading for about five hours.

The main reason is because he's one of my favourite tropes concentrate.

I'm an absolute sucker for the type of charater that tries to make the best out of dark situations. He... tries. Maybe he's the way he is because he's just too stupid to understand, but I choose to beleive that he knows but... pretends he doesn't. At least a little bit.

Also his design is gorgeous. I never liked the colour yellow but now it's my favourite ^-^

Anyways he is litterally my Blorbo

3. Duck

My favourite lil' bitch. Skrunkly thang. Bastard.

What I like abt Duck is he's so widespread in his character.

Their like everyone's grumpy grandad, little old lady that knits you scarves for the winter, goofy uncle that lives in the woods with a shotgun and a bottle of whisky, sassy wine aunt, dad that reads the paper in the morning and has rthe worst dance moves ever, housewife mum from the fifties, little brother that wants you to look at his planes and moody big sister that wants you to gtfo of her room rn she's talking to Braydon shut up Braydons on the phone all in one.

He genuinely, desprately wants others to like him, to look up to him and see him as a friend. But they can never quite get there.

That's why they love anybody and everybody who loves them back, because not many do.

They're voice smells good also ^-^

4. Red Guy

He's only this far down bc he looks like a used tampon to me and I can't unsee it, so the other two I hold at a slightly higher pedastal bc of it.

He's the cool guy, laid back and sad, and I like his swag.

But he canonically hunts wales for sport and I don't have much to say about him really, I like Red but he's certainly not my favourite. That doesn'y mean I don't like him though.

5. Roy

Roy :) Worlds Worst Father. He has a cheese puff for a nose. He has contacted absolutely every sexually transmitted disease onto his person.

6. Colin

Con da puter ^^^^^^^^^

My favourite teacher methinks. He's much more goofy and I love that abt him. Unlike the others he just seems to want the trio to have fun, if in his odd little twisted way.

He's just a little narccisistic kid really. That nerd that had pokemon cards that thought he was fresh af for having all the shinys.

7. Tony

I love him sm I made a poem 'bout him:

Tony Tony

Macaroni

Pepperoni Pizzer

He likes traumatizing kids

I hope he never meets ya

8. Sketchbook

The gg scenecore Manic Pixie Dreamgirl Creepypasta loving brony.

9. Shrignold.

I hate to love him and I love to hate him >:3

10. Train

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ train

11. Lamp

This drunkard really just stumbled in absolutely piss-faced and got the teching job bc nobody could get rid of him.

12. Furry Boy and his crab <3

13. Steak

My friend calls him Meaty Gusteau.

14. Spinach can

I ran out of funny words I just think she's cool.

15. Bread Boy

Look at this face. This is the cutest lil thang. Look at his drums. He exeeds talent.

16. Fridge

Fridgy <33333 get away from me <333333333 ur scary <3333333333333

17. Micheal

Mah boy just needs some love :o'(

18. This Tree

19. This Stick

20. Wow look a piechart!

21. DIGITAL STYLE

22. DO A DIGITAL DANCING, AIN'T THIS JUST FUN?!?!?!?!

23. This bargraph I have no emotion for whatsoever.

Why do you exist.

24. Paula

25. Mean Steve.

Mean Steve is a fucking cunt he pissed on my fucking wife-

26. THIS FUCKING THING

Okay I love all the other characters but tHIS. This HEATHEN. I hate him. He invokes so much hatred in me you have no idea. I want to stomp on him. I want to set him on fire. I want both sides of his pillow to be warm.

Honorable mentions:

Shriggy's Lovecult, Mrs. Grenalds and the other weirdos in Clayhill, twin goblins Scaraboosh and Scaramoochie, The Pirate King, and whoever the fuck Jason is.

#dhmis #don't hug me i'm scared #anon this fucking broke me to make i hope you're happy /hj

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aro-comics · 3 years ago

Text

History (Part 2)

History, Part 2/3 - I swear, things will be more positive in part 3!!!!! 😭😭😭 also I had to shorten this description more than a few times so sorry for the later post 😅 I expanded on the points I made last week about the ways amatonormativity makes it harder to understand your feelings or perceive elements of your identity. Even now, after I’ve realized that it’s okay to be without romantic love, I still feel insecure about finding a committed partner in my future. This isn’t to say an Aro you can’t find a partner, romantic or otherwise! But there are fewer people interested pursuing a non-romantic relationship. And it’s because of this, coupled with the fact that many life “”milestones””” traditionally involve marriage, that makes me unable to picture my future. I want to start a family. I want to have kids. I want to feel that I can count on someone to work with me to our shared goals. But I can’t figure out how I’m going to get any of this, without the help of a partner. So I’ve been thinking about this subject a lot. From when I started writing this comic (which was a few months ago), I think some of my feelings are starting to change, or get more complex at least. I still, of course, resonate with everything I’ve uploaded here. But I wanted to end this description with the full picture of what I’m feeling, which is this: I accept that my life might be different than most of my peers. It might be more challenging in some ways, but less so in others. But either way, it doesn’t mean I can’t pursue my goals or try to build a life I know I want and will hopefully bring me peace and happiness. The best thing I, or anyone really, can ever do is just go for it, and hope for the best. And I’m looking forward to getting a chance to try no matter what happens 💚💚💚 Happy ASAW everyone 💚

[Image Description:

Slide 1: Celia sits on a chair, looking skeptically at a book. “Part of that doubt is from the deep levels of amatonormativity in society - it affects how we see the world.”

Slide 2: So many people can’t even imagine that it’s possible to not feel romantic attraction to other people.

Celia shown arguing with an angry blank person.

“How can you not really feel romantic attraction?”

“Like, I just don’t see people that way ... ?”

“There must be someone-”

Slide 3: “(I know that I was one of them, when I was young)”

A younger celia with long hair is sitting on her bed, drawing in her sketchbook. She mutters to herself: “Or, I could pair him with Chiara but they’re not in the same country. Hm … Maybe I should make a new character … Last time I made Miles and Raymond together and their dynamic has really helped develop their personalities …”

Slide 4: Pure text slide. “There are no norms, no cultural guidelines, or even knowledge on what it means to form deep bonds or navigate life without the expectation of romance.”

Slide 5: Celia lying in a field with her former childhood friend. He’s talking about something, and she is smiling as she glances over.

“I don’t know how to describe what I felt, only that I didn’t have a crush.”

Slide 6: Celia as a teenager, seeing her former frenemy with his girlfriend. He looks angry as he glares at her.

“I didn’t feel like I would ever have a chance to be his “best friend” - so I decided to let him hate me, instead.”

Slide 7: “I didn’t see how I could live a life without romance -” Celia as a university student, watching some of her classmates talk.

“You know that girl I was telling you about?” “The one from your japanese class? Oh my god, did you two finally - tell me everything!!”

“Well, I finally asked her out, and she was so cute. I brought her flowers after class …”

Slide 8: “- so I kept blaming myself each time I saw my peers falling for someone else.”

A close up of Celia at her desk. Tears are welling up at the corners of her eyes, and she says to herself “... fuck. What am I doing wrong? Why can I never like anyone enough?”

Slide 9: “And in many ways, I still can’t see -”

Celia is drawn on the right half on the screen, and a stereotypical straight couple on the left. A “path” forms in front of both of them, the couple having a house, marriage, the woman holding a business briefcase with doodles of money and “CASH DOLLARS” scrawled around her, and a baby. On Celia’s side she has a lease, a smaller house, questionmarks drawn arounda child, and other legal forms which are labeled insurance.

“- how will I live my life without a spouse?”]

#RegularComic #HistoryComic

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