#this was supposed to be a simple sketch page

[nemisisnemi]

Leona Kingscholar? more like Leona STINKscholar/j

close ups underneath + click on the drawings for higher quality!

pls dont decimate my quality tumblr pls dont decimate my quality tumblr pls dont decimate my quality tumblr-

[eluriart]

Inktobertale Day 13- Immortal

Ink belongs to comyet

CORE!Frisk belongs to dokudoki

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

******************************************

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

**********************************************

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[ghcstao3]

“…where’d you go, Simon?”

It’s the question that usually snaps Ghost out of wherever his mind has wandered, Soap’s version of grounding him in place when he accidentally drifts off into the void.

This time is no different, as everything slowly returns to focus, and Ghost’s gaze flickers up to meet Soap’s.

“Nowhere,” he says, like usual. With nightmares he might have an answer, but other days it’s just… nothingness.

Curled up against the opposite end of their sofa, knees nearly to his chest as a makeshift perch for his journal, Soap watches Ghost with a soft fondness as he stops scribbling on his open page.

A quaint smile appears on Soap’s face. “Then can you answer me somethin’?”

Ghost doesn’t have to think before nodding. He swallows thickly, staring intently at Soap with his recurring need to memorize every slope and detail as he waits on a question.

Soap shuffles a bit, sitting up higher against the armrest. He sets his pencil aside and flips his journal so Ghost can see what occupies the current pages. His smile grows a little wider, a little brighter.

“What d’you think?“ He asks. “MacTavish-Riley or Riley-MacTavish?”

Ghost’s eyebrows pinch together as he looks down at the journal. On one side, there’s several doodles of interlocked rings and barely legible initials and the rough outline of a couple—presumably them—slow dancing in the middle of it all. The other side contains a plethora of scratched out and rewritten John MacTavish-Riley, John Riley-MacTavish’s, and a few with Simon’s name as well.

He has to keep himself from gawking as his heart climbs in his throat.

“Is this your way of proposing?” Ghost wonders quietly.

Soap shrugs a shoulder in his best impression of someone acting casual—but Ghost can see the slight tremor in his hand as he holds out the journal.

“Maybe it is.”

Ghost’s eyes jump from the pages to Soap’s face and back as if trying to reassure himself he wasn’t imagining it all.

But when the words don’t magically disappear, nor the earnest look on Soap’s face, Ghost takes a deep, centring breath, then huffs.

“Riley-MacTavish sounds better,” he mumbles.

Soap snorts with good humour, returning the journal to its rest against his thighs. “‘Course you’d want your name first, you bastard.”

“Get a second opinion, then.”

Soap is grinning again, more to himself than anything, as he resumes his sketches. He shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “You’re right, does sound better.”

Ghost can’t understand how such a big conversation could’ve been made so simple, but he supposes he could always trust Soap to make things easier.

Simon and John Riley-MacTavish. He thinks he may have to toy around with that thought in his own head, too.

[voidcat]

— the maker, far away and the muse, ardent

characters: endo yamato, you

notes: this is more in the style of my typical dazai content so iykyk. artist!reader, gender neutral pronouns used. small picture of dorian gray reference. a mini post explaining my vision for this fic basically

Drawing Endo Yamato is a tricky feat.

Despite his simple looks, you realize there are more details to him that meets the eye. Sharp edges and curves, eyes and lashes that cut through, wavy locks of hair that fall with an order to itself.

It is difficult but so is to create. That’s the thing with art, and that’s what you love about it until the very end.

No matter how hard, how detailed something is, no matter how long it’ll take you to reach that level of skill required to make it, it is never impossible.

And so you sit back and keep observing him, smoothing out the page before you, you sharpen your pencil.

Despite the numerous pages adorned with his face, you’ve never spoken with Endo Yamato, not even once. Nor did you feel the need to.

Does god often seek an audience with their followers, does a nature artist eat the apple even after days of mold has accumulated— does everyone kill the thing they love? Or do they just leave it be, to their happiness or misery.

To you he is nothing more than a pretty face, beautiful features and an impressive body, one he uses as his own canvas, recording his life and feelings onto his skin permanently.

Endo Yamato never sits still, as if offering a challenge to you. Another thing that helps you in the long run, your pen begins to hasten, your sketch line improves and you begin to remember and transfer every small detail of a millisecond to paper without breaking a sweat.

It begins piece by piece, part by part. When one thing proves difficult to grasp, you have no choice but to dissect it one by one.

You begin with his structure, how he carries himself and his body. You have confidence in your figure drawing but it takes something extra to show off his pride and nose high up attitude in his posture. You don’t know Endo Yamato all that much but you know enough that you don’t like him or his kind at all.

Then comes the face, the edge of his jaw and the softness to his cheeks despite coming off as thin. It’s the details that prove the real challenge. When drawn apart, be it his eyes or the hooked nose, you’re good. Yet the way they have been placed on his face, you have to remake the dough figurine over and over again. His hair proves a great distraction, you’d suppose it is the real source of your problems. It hides everything characteristic to him, every small detail, the arch of his brows, the wrinkles on his face when he smiles or furrows them, the angle of his nose and how the bridge comes down, the light in his eyes though they are absent majority of the time.

You sketch over and over, the pencil glides off the pages. You change the materials but the subject remains the same. Noticeable changes begin to appear after some time. You’ve lost for how long you’ve been drawing, but it comes natural now.

So you switch up the medium, and try the process from the start with watercolors. The uncontrollable nature of the medium met with the difficult subject growing familiar on your muscles perfectly.

Too perfectly in fact, as you are lost in the thrill of it, that you don’t even notice how time passes nor the shift in scenery unless it contradicts your paintings— and you’re slouching over the papers once more, face contracting in focus as shadows disturb your view and lighting.

When you steal a glance above, you’re met with not a cloud but none other than Endo Yamato himself.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets and his confident yet relaxed posture, he glances down at you and the papers, wearing a smug smile the whole time.

You wait for a moment of breath then divert your attention back to the work before you, adding shadows currently.

You hear him let out a slight grunt, and maybe you’d see his expression shift into something of surprise too, were you to be carefully watching.

“It’s sublime knowing I have a fan.” He says, still not stepping one step to the side, adamant on blocking the light apparently.

His words register far too late for you, you let out a hum at first, “hmm… oh?” The sound fades into surprise on your end, “ah, no, you see-“

You dip the brush into water and to the shades of blue and purple, mixing and lightening the amount of paint on the brush. 

A tapping of feet brings you down to earth and reminds you for once you are not alone in your leisure time of painting.

“Ah… sorry.” You say more as an apology for forgetting he was right there up until a second, “it’s nothing like that.”

Your words take him out like a chain of inconveniences following one after another, building up until you’ve lost your temper.

You don’t notice this either, focus solely on perfecting the shading, calling it another painting done and complete.

To Endo, your nonchalance is odd to say the least. Here he stands, the subject of your attention for many a while now, from what he has seen, and you don’t seem to care one bit. Or is it the paper that is holier than him? Or is this another, albeit looser case of Takiishi, not caring for the people but for their reflections, their end products, what comes out of them and the hand that crafts them into something bigger, brighter.

Along the lines Endo Yamato says to you, you do catch something like ‘having the real thing before you already.’ An enlightenment perhaps, a revelation you didn’t need nor asked for.

So he is a charmer, you think, or tries to be. Considering the things at hand it’s the former most likely— walking up to you without a care in the world as if you’ve interacted before. It takes some sort of confidence, as most charmers carry with them. He is just not trying it to the fullest with you, but is it because he thinks he already holds a part of you in his hand, you’re unsure.

In the short timeframe of thinking over a man you couldn’t care any less, you notice your brush staggering, slowing down. Any more and the drops of water will be too much for the paper, ruining all your hard work on this completely.

“So… listen,” you begin, cutting off whatever he was saying. “If you don’t have anything important to say, would you mind-“ 

You wait and wait for him to catch on. Instead met with empty eyes looking at you with not a single clue inside that brain of his, you let out a sigh.

“The light at this hour is very good and you’re making me lose it minute by minute right now.”

Endo looks at you, in disbelief again. Not the reaction he was expecting and definitely not the words he expected to hear. And compared to how quiet and just shy you sounded up until the last sentence— that last demand, all that timid nature of you dispelled within a second. 

Deflated, he admits his defeat for the time being and leaves, stealing one last glance at the paper.

As the man leaves, you watch his back for a bit, waiting for your brush to dry.

Odd, you think. 

What did he really expect you to do or say? 

You may not know Endo Yamato but all you’ve observed is more than enough to deem him as weird. You are somewhat aware he is filled with burning passion down to his very being but that’s just not who you are as an artist.

The views people have on you, and by extension, on artists has always been far fetched from what you’ve seen.

Must art always be loud and intense, waging war upon any heart that gazes at it? Should you too be destructive and heavy— not all artists see their subject like Basil to Dorian, not all art is an all consuming fire, an endless devotion, a declaration of war. Art can be natural and gentle, like a breeze, like a stream of river.  Love can be accepting and gentle, unifying and kind with the familiarity it brings, the comfort hidden in the routine, as he fails to see.

By the time the painting has come to an end, darkness has fallen. Endo Yamato has already left, and the sunlight soon after him. The sky begins to darken, purple spreads of paint among the clouds. You turn the page and leave today in the past, crossing another thing off the list and moving on.

[xmalereader]

Miguel O’Hara x Black Cat! Male reader || 3 ||

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors note: This one has a bit more angst into the story also these are not accurate to the film! I made my own changes in order to keep the whole found family together also thank you for 7K! 😫 damn just a week ago I had 6.8k and quickly got to 7K! Thank you everyone and enjoy this next part!

Summary: Miles has been MIA and Noir has grown worried over the disappearance of his own little spider.

Warnings: Slight ATSV Spoilers, fluff, angst, mentions of spider bite, universe, fate, found family au, miguel is trying his best, black cats fate changes, reveals, humor, co parenting, language.

Word Count: 2.1K

— || Part One || Part Two ||

—

“You weren’t suppose to be Spider-Man.”

Miles had been MIA ever since he got back from his last mission in capturing Spot. He was hard man to catch but after some time and working as a team they were able to capture him and put him on lock down, making sure that he was no where near anything that could help him escape.

It was Noir who noticed the teens absences after a day. The kid was usually attached to his hip and never left his side, other times he would come see him and rant about things that happened in school or the times that he saved people and the stories he would tell, but not today.

Miguels lab was too quiet.

It irritated him.

Even though Miguel and him have started to fix up their marriage again, he was still under house arrest until further notice from his own husband, not being allowed to leave without permission, but the cat was getting anxious. A small voice inside his head was telling him to search for the kid, to check up on him and see how he’s doing. The parent inside of him wanted to crawl out and do what a parent would do when their kid was suddenly missing.

So, without Miguel’s knowledge he leaves base.

He makes sure to block Lyla from tracking him in case Miguel finds out that he’s gone. As much as he cares for his husband he didn’t want to deal with his anger if he were to find out that he left without giving him a reason. When arriving to Miles universe he makes sure to appear on the rooftop of his parents apartment, knowing that it was the weekend and that the kid usually spent his time at his parents house, being with them and catching up.

With slow movements he looks over the roof to where Miles bedroom was, getting ready to climb down and slide the window frame open only to freeze when he sees Miles dad leaving the apartment with a deep sigh, following after him is his wife. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he will come back and help.” Said Rio as her husband shrugs his shoulders. “Spider-Man hasn’t showing up in nearly two weeks. Who knows if he’s coming back.”

His words catch Noir by surprise, eyebrows furrowed as he stays hidden on the rooftop and watches the couple interact with each other before he quietly slips inside Miles room to find it empty. He takes in the teens room, never had he entered the kids room without permission until now, taking in the interior and the way the kid kept it organized and messy at the same time.

He found Mile’s sketch book lying open on his bed finding the open pages to a sketch of both him and his uncle, simple drawings that the kid liked. He reached down to pick up the sketch book, only staying on those pages before closing the sketch book and setting it down. The rest of kids room is messy and clothes was scattered everywhere, in the pile of clothes he finds his spider suit and frowns.

The kid never left without it as he gets down on one knee to pick it up, holding it in his gloved hands before hiding it under Miles bed and looking out the window, getting an idea of where the kid could possibly be as he jumps out the window, using his grappling hook to swing across the city as he searched for the kid.

The sound of traffic can be heard below him as he swings across the city, focused on finding the kid that he doesn’t notice the familiar red and blue following after him.

It only takes him a few minutes to reach the clock tower, landing on top to find the teen sitting on the edge, wearing a hoodie as he stares at the city view.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

His voice startles the poor teen, jumping in surprise as Miles sighs in relief. “You scared the hell out of me!”

Y/n chuckled as he sits down next to the teen. The two sitting in silence as they take in the city’s view and sunset. “You’ve been distant.” Y/n finally speaks up, glancing at the kid who lowers his head with a small shrug. “Sorry, just been…going through something.”

The thief wants to roll his eyes at the kids excuse, knowing that it was something more as he moves closer to the kid. “Sure its not something else? I mean, I’ve seen you upset and you still do your job as the cities hero but—‘spider has been missing for 2 weeks?’ Doesn’t sound like you.”

“What are you, my mom?”

“Technically, I’m still your guardian whenever you are a hero.” Y/n shot back, nudging the kid on the shoulder playfully, earning a slight laugh from him.

It wasn’t until he fell silent again, giving Miles the time to finally get the courage to speak. “Remember the mission I had with the others on capturing Spot?” Y/n nods at his words. “Well, he showed me something that I wished I didn’t know.” Miles sighs deeply, nervously playing with the strings of his hoodie, eyes focused on the material.

“What did he show you?” Y/n asks.

Miles hesitates before speaking up. “That I wasn’t suppose to be Spider-Man.”

Y/n froze at the comment, eyes widening under his goggles as he glared at nothing, blood boiling.

“He said that the spider that bit me actually belonged in another universe and that someone else was suppose to be bitten.” Miles continues. “I wasn’t suppose to be Spider-Man in the first place.”

“Miles—“

“That makes me an anomaly doesn’t it?” Miles turns to Y/n with sad eyes, realizing the mistake that’s happened in his own universe the realization that this whole time he thought he had a purpose only to find out that it was all a mistake. “Think Miguel will be upset?” Miles next words cause Y/n to blurt out. “I don’t give a damn what he thinks.”

Not knowing the Miguel was hiding behind the pillars, listening into the two.

“But, I’m an anomaly. I could destroy my own universe!”

“Or you can change it.” Y/n’s words catch him by surprise while the adult sighs deeply. “Not everything has to go according to plan and not everything can go the way it needs to be.”

“But, there’s a universe out there without a Spider-Man—!”

“They don’t need to be bitten by a spider to be Spider-Man.” Y/n’s voice grows stern with the kid. “Yes, that universe is in need of a hero but it doesn’t have to be a spider. Before Spider-Man they were once a smart kid and the universe will always find a way to fix things on its own. They may not have super strength or webs, but they damn sure know how to create something new.” He reached up to lift his goggles and mask, slipping it over his head as he smiles faintly at the kid.

“I’m still an anomaly…” Miles mutters.

“Then so am I.”

Miles stares at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Y/n’s fingers tracing over the tinted goggles, sighing deeply. “Ever Black cat is the same. They betray people, use them, greedy, a good thief.” He laughs. “But most importantly they always use Spider-Man in their own little mind games.”

Miguel shifts in place, leaning his head back against the pillar.

“I’m nowhere near that.” Y/n shakes his head. “I became a thief because I was struggling, later I found Miguel and his daughter and put my second life on hold to focus on my relationship only to get married and have a family I always wanted. A happy family.”

Miles listens intently.

“Even after I lost my daughter…and then Miguel I still remained loyal to both him and Spider-Man. Yeah, we have our quarrels here and there, but I never stopped loving him. Never used him like others would, never moved on because of how wrong it felt and whenever I got to close to him again I wanted to run away, to stop our future from getting bad again. I grew afraid until now.” He explains to Miles, eyes focused on his gloved hands. “I changed my own fate and so far it’s been going well.”

Miles sighs softly after listening to Y/n’s explanation knowing that everyone’s fates changes, weather its good or bad the universe always finds a way to fix it. “You think my universe will be fine?”

“Your universe will be fine, Miles.”

Both Y/n and Miles whip their head over their shoulder to see Miguel standing before the two, hands on his hips, wearing his spider suit as his mask dissolves away, showing his face to the two. “Your universe won’t suffer.” Said Miguel again, giving Y/n a soft kick on the thigh, indicating for him to move while Y/n glared at him playfully and moves aside, giving him space to sit between the two. Clearly the cat already knew that he would get caught by his husband but didn’t think that he would react in such a calm manner.

Miguel grunts, siting down between the two and sighing deeply. “Y/n’s is right, not everyone’s universe is perfect. Yes, you are an anomaly, but that doesn’t mean that your fate can change and their isn’t anything I can do to fix it. So, all we can do is sit back and watch as the universe decides for you.”

Miles nervously picks on his sweatpants, picking on a small lose string as he pulls on it gently a nervous tactic that he picked up along the way. “I guess my universe wanted you both to be in it, right?”

Both Miguel and Y/n look at Miles with content smiles while Y/n looked at Miles proudly. The kid had gone through a lot as his first few days as the cities hero, losing his uncle along the way as the poor kid suffered on his own, unable to tell anyone that he was their when his uncle died without revealing too much of his true identity until he met Y/n the talent thief that was also Miguels husband. The thief couldn’t have been happier to have met Miles, cherishing the kid and taking him under his wing and treating him like his own son too.

“Guess they really did.” Y/n is the first to speak up, standing up from his spot and rounding Miguel to tussle Miles hair before standing near the edge of the clock tower. “Now, I think its time for Spiderman to make an appearance, don’t you think?” He questions as he slips his goggles on, giving them a knowing smirk as he held out his grappling hook.

“Meet you both at the bank!” He shouts, jumping off the building with a laugh as Miles watched Y/n swing away, turning to Miguel with a confused look on his face while the other sighs deeply. “He’s just giving you a reason to make a good entrance.”

To show the city that their hero has returned while Miles slowly smiles at the idea of Y/n using himself as bait in order to “lure” Spider-Man out, knowing damn well that he was speaking to him not too long ago. “Want to help me?” Miles asks Miguel as the older hero raises a brow in surprise before his lips twitch into a grin. “He won’t go easy on us.”

“How about a bet?” Miles stands from his spot. “Whoever catches him first gets my moms special empanadas.”

“Your mothers empanadas are good, better than Y/n’s.”

Miles laughs. “Don’t let him know that you said that or he will kill you!” He shouted as he too jumps off the clock tower, using his hoodie to hide his face as he swung back home to pick up his spider suit that he left lying in his bedroom, stepping inside the room as he quickly changed into the suit with Miguel waiting outside for him.

“Come on kid, we don’t have much time if we wish to catch Noir.” Said Miguel, sticking his head in the window with his mask still off while waiting for Miles who struggled with putting his suit on. “Yeah just give me a second!” He grunts while trying to slip on his suit while Miguel watched the teen struggle with putting it on, reminding him why he changed his own suit design to nanotechnology, making it easier to use.

“Miles—“

“Done!”

“What the fuck?!”

Both Miles and Miguels eyes widen as they turn towards Miles bedroom door that was thrown open. “Hello, Mrs. Morales.”

[hunterxmilo]

Turnabout Pokemon Reunion: 11

Finally getting back into my Ace Attorney Pokemon story and starting back from where we left off, Victini is given a reminder from Phoenix that he's mentioned his childhood friend before! Suddenly memories of hearing this stranger's name before returns the small pokemon's mind and they're quite sure Edgeworth's name was mentioned quite a few times more!

(Thank you all for your patience as I got side tracked with other projects before returning to this (what was supposed to be short) comic but slowly and surely I'm making decent progress to getting the rest of this story finished and drawn! I'll probably only post a page (or two if they're simple) a week since I have many pages left to finish and I can work on other drawings in between!)

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To support me and see early releases of drawings/sketches you can check out my Patreon! First 3 pages are already posted!

[k-0re]

that one scene in chp 8 of tptm

this was supposed to be a simple sketch- i dont even know what happened or what possessed me to make this 🧍

i just blacked out and somehow got a fully rendered comic page

[elliesmainhoe]

Happy Mothers Day!!

HBO!Ellie Williams X MotherFigure!Reader

THIS CHARACTER IS UNDER 18 SO THIS FIC IS STRICTLY PLATONIC!!!!!!!

Summary: The first mothers day Ellie has ever celebrated and she's going to make sure that it's amazing.

Contents: tooth rotting fluff, happiness, extreme cuteness

Pancakes were supposed to be simple. Key word supposed.

Ellie woke up at the ass crack of dawn that morning, she had set her alarm clock for 6m and had switched yours off- discreetly forcing you into sleeping over time. She'd gathered all the ingredients the recipe had told her. Said recipe having been ripped out of the book they were originally in and found laying near a library a little outside of Jackson.

Ellie had squeezed fresh apple juice as she waited for the first pancake to cook through. A bad habit of Ellie's was losing track of time, she got carried away, squeezing the apple juice lead to her finding cutlery which lead to her cleaning said cutlery which lead to finding the right tray to put the silverware on. Ending up with the smell of burning flooding the kitchen.

She slammed the kitchens door, attempting to stop the smoke from wafting through the house alerting you of her antics and waking you up. She opened the window, the chilly air ventilating out the smell of smoke before she turned off the stove.

To say the pancake was a little crisp would be a bit of an understatement.

Shit. She only had enough for two, one for you, one for her. Oh well... She'll have the burnt one, today's about you anyways.

Take two was a little more successful a bit crisp on the edges but it'll do. She flopped them onto the two blue and white china plates- covering yours in fruit and hers in chocolate, balancing them on a wooden tray with the two glasses of juice before she took to the stairs.

She nudged open the door with her foot as she walked into the dark room, curtains closed and blocking out the ever insistent sunrise from seeping into your bedroom.

Cautiously, she placed the tray on your bedside table quietly before tiptoeing over to you window and drawing the curtains apart- the warm glow of the morning lightening the space.

Ellie watched as your eyes fluttered open. "Fuck kiddo. What time is it?" You grunted rolling over to look at your alarm clock 7:45am. 1 hour and 30 minutes late for patrol. Before you opened your mouth the soft voice of your daughter interrupted you.

"Don't worry Mom... I talked to Maria and she cancelled your patrol today" her hand gestured towards the tray of overlooked pancakes, before she whispered a shy "Happy mothers day mama..."

"Oh sweet girl come here" you opened your eyes as a blur of brown hair launched itself at you, her arms wrapping around you and giggling when you pecked her forehead lovingly.

"I tried to make you breakfast. It's not the best but-"

"It looks amazing kiddo. Thank you so much_ you smiled into her hair, before scooching up the bed- your back meeting the headboard as you move the tray onto your lap.

You took a bite of the fruit covered pancake, and honestly you couldn't tell whether or not Ellie was a culinary genius or you were just a smitten mother. Because fuck it tasted good.

Ellie's doe eyes looked up at you expectantly and with worry and anticipation. "Well done Ellie. This tastes so so so so good. You gotta cook for me more often now kid." You hummed, she seemed content with your answer.

"oh wait I got you something else" the girl said darting off your bed and out of the room before swiftly returning with what looked like... A sketch book? "I uh didn't really know what to get you and I thought you would enjoy something personal... So..." She shoved the sketch book into your hands "here."

You set your food aside, opting to open up the leather bound pad of paper instead. The first page read.

To Mom.

I know how much you like my drawings so I decided to put something together for you. Happy Mothers day.

Love Ellie.

You flipped to the next page and there was a beautiful sketch of you, sitting a the barstool of your kitchen island, glasses resting on the bridge of your nose as you read a new recipe

The next one was of you and Ellie. She had sketched out and traced the photo you both took in the malls arcade.

The next one was of a cartoon giraffe wearing a space suit on the moon.

It went on and on and on for 80 pages, sketches of you, her favourite things, her favourite hobbies, her favourite people it was so so so beautiful.

A single tear dripped down your cheek, "come over here baby" you sniffles hugging your girl tightly "my baby's so talented..." You hummed hands playing with her hair as she smiled joyfully.

"Thank you so much kiddo.."

---------------

I actually celebrated mothers day 2 months ago! But I have baby fever rn so here I am again, healing Ellie Williams mommy issues.

Taglist:@aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @eywaskisses @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647 @gumdropkoo @coffeeandbookskeepmealive @womaniza @namgification @kimiisims-blog @tayyyystan @abigaillovestoread @whoreshores @kylieeluvstlou @knowitsforthebetterr @endureher @erikaar @lanasluverr @sayah13 @ilovebufflesbians @srryhoneyy @222fine444u

NOT PROOFREAD

[lil-fungus]

Happy pride month yippee

I didn’t mean to be so late, I just got caught up in drawing for Artfight 😔 please forgive me, I’m but a simple bi

I didn’t mean for this to look like a comic page either but I suppose it works lmaoo makes it funnier

My fave is the bottom left 😎 I had my snake out at the time and it gave me inspiration

Might end up doing some more sketches later yahoo

[phoenixmetaphor]

inkvent day 1

i’ve always enjoyed the idea that the reason loot doesn’t take up space in the briefcase is that Leon wears his wealth like a pirate.

(supplies talk after the break)

of course the first day of this calendar is some special effects ink that is impossible to photograph properly afffghhdddddcffffff

today’s ink, fortunes gold, is labeled as “chameleon”, which i guess means the shimmer in it is color shifting? if so the effect is very subtle, an orange yellow to green-ish shift depending on the angle.

while the chameleon effect does very little for me, i do really love the color. yellows are always difficult because they can be illegible, so i love a shading yellow-brown that reads as yellow but isn’t a strain to see.

BUT i was not going to try to ink the whole thing in this color. lololz no way. especially not with the sparkle.

so i went with an extra fine pilot desk pen and pilot parallel for the blacks and an uni emott pencil in yellow for the under sketch. i normally lightbox my sketch but these are supposed to be simple little sketches to test out the inks and not super involved…. i say as i plot out a full ass background. don’t expect this again if there are more of these!

i am so ready for this sketchbook from hell to be finished. i hate this canson ‘pen and ink’ paper so much. two or three more pages and i will be free. when your “no feathering” paper feathers all over the place when using an extra fine nib, you know you done fucked up.

[daedelweiss]

Hello! How did you learn to storyboard? Did you apply for a program? I saw your life mission trailer and absolutely loved it and want to do the same with the many ideas and characters running around in brain like maniacs.

Thank you!

i went to animation school for a year and studied films and animation practically my entire life. i kept watching behind the scenes and bought several art books to study how people make things and that usually helps.

i knew making something like this would require a preproduction, production, and post production stage so i spaced out my work and used those as a goalpost.

storyboarding is just something that always fascinated me and something i truly believed i am capable of doing so i focused a lot of my learning to that and character design. i basically just watched how people storyboarded traditionally and how people do it now. my animation teacher told us that the goal of storyboards is to simplify the scene by how it's composed and what the keyframes will be. storyboarding board to board is to help you understand how a scene will look or be composed like this one:

(storyboard of the life mission trailer)

there is a different method doing it professionally and i've yet to study that but my method is just to draw out shots, camera/environment/character movements, and timing.

you can learn storyboarding everywhere online now. there are several videos on storyboarding on youtube by people in the industry and i highly recommend those as a good kickstart.

do keep in mind storyboarding is not just used in animation but in film and comics as well. i also board life mission comics so i know the flow of the page and where the text bubble will be (this process is also called thumbnailing where you simplify composition in sketches)

(thumbnails for the life mission comic: chapter 1. the highlighted parts are parts i wanted to color.)

storyboarding/thumbnailing doesn't have to be this high effort, polished product. it's supposed to communicate the idea and should be made fast. that is why storyboards and thumbnails are simple sketches. they take up less time to work on. as long as you can communicate the idea to whoever you're working for or yourself, you got a good storyboard.

storyboards and thumbnails are maps of ideas, not the finished product. so don't beat yourself up for perfecting one~

[sugarfaiire]

⋆𐙚₊ tea for two .

ー ellie takes you on a picnic-date by the lake .

ー wc - 1.3k (not proofread!)

ー pairing - lovegirl!ellie + fem!reader

ellie and you walked down a winding gravel path, hand in hand. she’d been leading you down this route for what felt like forever, but every time you voiced your doubts she reassured you that the surprise she had in store for you was worth the wait.

as you turned a particularly bushy shrub, the dense thicket around you cleared to reveal a luscious scene. a lake so clear you could see the koi that swam below, cattails and lily pads coating the water. a lush bed of flowers surrounding a small dirt patch, covered by a picnic blanket. in the small circle lay a teddy bear ordained with a small pink bow, a large picnic basket with a ribbon wrapped around the handle and an envelope which held a red paper heart.

your mouth gaped wider and wider as the scene continued to reveal itself, and ellie couldn’t help but feel proud of herself, knowing her hard work had paid off.

“ellie.. i— it’s..” you couldn’t seem to put into words the overwhelming feelings of astonishment and joy at the pleasantry. so, you walked over to ellie instead and hugged her tight, your arms pulling her waist closer and closer into you.

you two stood there for a while, wrapped in each other. ellie didn’t need your words, your compliments or your thanks. she just needed your love. her arms reciprocated the hug and almost crushed you with their strength. you tapped ellie’s back, wheezing. “alright, alright.”

you pulled away from ellie, and let her lead you by your arm onto the blanket. you

sat awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. you looked up at her, waiting expectantly for her to spark up a conversation or explain the gifts. “what are you waiting for? open the envelope!” ellie giggled like a teenage girl. she handed you the letter excitedly and watched as you opened it.

after you removed the heart seal, the letter opened to reveal a pop up card that expanded longer and longer as it opened itself. as you stopped to skim some of the pages, you noticed a few dates at the top. the whole letter was a mini compilation of ellie’s journal entries about you, addressed to you, or concerning you. some sappier than others.

“is it too much?” ellie looked nervous. she twiddled with the silver locket that hung around her neck. you’d gotten it for her as an anniversary present, and she almost never took it off. she watched as you skimmed through a few more pages, waiting hesitantly for an answer from you.

“elllieeee.. this is so adorable.” you pointed to one of the pages adorned with a sketch of you. “how am i supposed to one up this?” you jeered, giving ellie a playful nudge to her arm. she took your face and cupped your cheek in her hand. “‘ts simple,” she leaned in closer, your nose brushing against hers. “you don’t.”

ellie gave you a deep kiss, her carmex covered lips pressed against yours. you felt her fingers trickling down your neck, pulling you closer. she left kisses trailing down to your collarbone, and started to kiss down there as well. you pushed her away before her sly hands slipped under you shirt like they always did. she looked at you with sorrow in her eyes, as if you had just shot her in her leg or something. she was still dazed from the kiss.

“your not slick, williams. time ‘n place, remember?” you raised an eyebrow at ellie, which happened to snap her back into reality. “yeah, sorry..” she laughed it off before reaching behind you for the picnic basket.

“i totally forgot about that,” ellie handed you the basket, leaving it in your lap. “what’s inside of this thing anyways?” she looked at you with straight sarcasm. “hmmm, i y wonder how we can find out what’s inside of the picnic basket.. maybe open it? just a suggestion!”

ellie was always quick with her little side remarks, and you were quicker to give her that death glare. nobody could shut her up faster than you.

you lifted the baskets cover to reveal a variety of your favorite snacks, a rilakkuma keychain, and a small paper flower bouquet. “damn.. i really can’t outdo this one williams.” a few snacks included a ramune, bakery brownies, fruit snacks, chips and some grapes & cherries. you took out a handful of grapes and stood up.

“where are you going?”

“to feed the ducks, duh..” you rolled your eyes at ellie before trotting off to the lake.

“wait!—” ellie quickly got up and stumbled after you, shuffling something in her back pocket. “wait for me!”

by the time ellie caught up, you were down to your last few grapes already. “these ducks are greedy.” “you walk way too fast..” ellie heaved, still holding her stomach from running. she sat by the lakes shore, her legs dangling over the ledge. “hey, pass me some of those?” you handed ellie the last few grapes, sitting down beside her right after. “there’s only two left but go crazy i guess.”

“watch, i could totally get both of these in at the same time.”

“yeah, okay baller. shoot your shot.” ellie wound up her arm and rolled up her sleeve. that girl couldn’t throw to save her life, but you thought you’d entertain her.

“okay, watch.” she chucked both of the grapes at the ducks, hitting one of them in the beak and the other on its backside. you let out a giggle as the ducks swam away.

“it was the wind. i’m an amazing throw!”

“yeah, keep dreaming.”

“but i am!” you got up and extended your hand for ellie to come up. you led her back to the picnic spot, and sat criss-cross applesauce. ellie laid her head on your lap, and let you stroke her auburn hair.

you let your cheek brush against her freckled skin, her eyes meeting yours every once in a while.

“when we get back, your going DOWN.” ellie balled her hand into a fist.

“is that a threat?” you gave ellie a raised eyebrow, surprised by her audacity.

“not like that.. ’m still mad about the kiss.” she turned her head to look at the sun. it was slowly coming down on the horizon.

how time flies when your with people you love..

“hey,” ellie turned her head to look up at you. “i’ve got a very very serious question for you, alright?” she got up and stared at you dead in the eye. “are you breaking up with me?..” “what? no no no no, just..” ellie got on one knee. your eyes opened wide and you began to tear up. mainly because you guys had only been dating for 4 months and you were definitely not ready to be moving this fast, but also because you were considering actually going ahead and committing to her.

“you make me feel, so special and so loved and.. i think it’s time.” ellie reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pink heart ring. it wasn’t fancy or anything, but just looking at it made you feel special. “do you promise to never break my heart?” ellie looked at you expectantly.

“did you plan this?”

“please, just answer the question.”

“..”

“oh.” ellie looked defeated.

“sorry els, i’m just not looking to get married or anything like that..”

“what?” ellie looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language.

“that doesn’t mean i don’t love you it’s jus—” “hold on.” ellie started chuckling.

“what’s so funny?” you were so confused. “this is a promise ring.”

“ooohhh…” ellie let out the fattest laugh.

“well uhm..” you cleared your throat. “quick— ask the question again before the sun sets any further.”

“okay, do you promise to never break my heart?” ellie said as she held both of your hands. “yes.”

“do you promise to always be there for me?” “absolutely.”

“do you promise to love me forever and always?” “mhm.”

ellie slipped the ring onto your finger and stood up. she pulled you close and gave you a warm, long kiss.

“i love you.” she said as she pulled away.

“i love you too.”

ー

[mrs-kodzuken]

Art Frustration ♡

Pairing: Kōshi Sugawara x fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

Genre: fluff

CW : fem!reader, fluff, comfort for frustration, art frustrations

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Once again, the paper was scattered with useless and chaotic drawings. It had seemed to be as if my brain couldn't handle anymore pathetic scribbles.

The frustration grew in my head as I tore another piece of paper up and groaned loudly.

It's simple really, art is supposed to make you feel relaxed and at one with what you're making. It's something to release the feelings and emotions you have into something that explains you.

Well this wasn't the case with me.

I haven't had a good crumb of inspiration for the past two weeks. As an artist, that can put a lot of pressure on you when you draw almost every day.

Especially when I have so many expectations that I've set for myself and I'm not even managing to reach them.

There were so many ideas swarming in my head but I just couldn't put it on paper. It would come out as something not even definite, which is so not the look I was going for with this piece.

Taking a deep breath, I set up a new sheet and paused. I tried to differentiate an idea with how well I could get that idea on this page without frustrating myself again.

My hands started marking on the page with a very simple sketches. I, unfortunately, erased those lines upon lines frequently. Feeling my anxiety getting the better of me as I really wanted to draw but couldn't.

It was getting to the point of hopelessness for me. My tiny sketches here and there, they always started out small. I could feel the tears pricking my eyes as it wasn't going the way I wanted it to, just like the other fifty million times.

I couldn't see a good clear idea in my head to form what I wanted to express on the page.

My emotions started bubbling up inside me like a wild fire. Irritation was overcoming me and my hands were shaking with a burning need to get something on this damn paper. It was so bad to the point where I couldn't even draw anymore.

Defeated, I let out a shaky breath that I'd been holding in. I took the paper and crumbled it up once again. I desperately wanted to throw a fit and scream like a toddler. This wasn't working out like it's supposed to .

Art is something I've always been good at, I don't know why this is happening to me now.

I banged my head on the canvas stand, practically begging for some inspiration to help me.

Finally, I had just let go of the salty tears that were bundled in my eyes as I released a quiet sob. This was so frustrating.

Sliding down the wall to sit, I sobbed on the floor. Was it too much to ask to simply draw good?

This has been the only thing I've been good at since I was little, the amount of time I've put into trying to better myself and art style feels like it's for nothing.

A soft knock sounded throughout my room from my door which followed with my bedroom door being opened.

I had guessed it was my mom since she's been the one to see me like this for almost two weeks now. Sighing with my face in my hands, I waited for the sound of her footsteps to leave my room.

But they never came.

I felt a hand on mine as it pulled my own from my tear streaked face.

"Woah, woah. are you alright, (Y/n)?" I heard, it was no one other than my supportive boyfriend, Kōshi Sugawara.

Looking up at him with so many emotions that I was feeling I shook my head no. I wanted to explain what a rut I've been in but knowing that if I even tried to explain to him, it'd be a lot of high pitched whining noises.

"Come on, let's get you off the floor, sugar." Calling me my favorite name, he helped me to my bed. Rubbing soothing circles on my back, Suga waited for me to speak.

I could tell he was examining the absolute mess the state of my room was in. Papers everywhere, my trashcan overflowing with mess of drawings and scraps. My paint bottles were open and bound to dry out if I didn't close them soon. It just looked rough in here.

"How did this happen..?" Kōshi sounded hesitant to ask, as if I could start breaking down even worse. Which I don't blame him, usually I'm a very tidy person and I never let any sort of thing screw my room like this.

Deep breaths, (Y/n). Deep breaths.

"I've been in a rut, none of my art is coming out even remotely good. I'm a f-failure. Plenty of hours I've spent on this, just for it to be worthless." I sighed and hiccupped while trying to stop the warm tears that fell.

My anxiety ridden hands carelessly played with the loose strings on my shirt to distract myself from Suga's presence. I didn't realize it yet but the embarrassment was creeping up on me. I'm having an entire breakdown because of a drawing I can' t even do.

"Hey, look at me," I felt his warm hand softly turn my head so my gaze would be on him.

"Under no circumstance will I let my talented, wonderful girlfriend call herself a failure. You just need a break, sugar. Artist block happens to everyone once in a while." He comforted me, concerned.

Wiping away the few stray tears with his thumbs from my eyes. He kissed the red marks underneath them as well.

"Break time, yeah?" Kōshi hugged me close to him, humming a small lullaby to help calm me down. Rocking me back and forth helped my breathing slow again and I was able to fully relax.

Suga had held me like that for a while and when he did that, I felt at peace.

Listening to the rhythmic music from his heart beat and very few sniffles from me were the only sounds in the room.

"Are you feeling better?" The small circles on my arms didn't cease.

I nodded giving him a small smile, gee that sure wasn't embarrassing. My own boyfriend had to see a breakdown. I cursed myself internally for even letting this happen.

"Great! Now let's get this placed cleaned up sugar." He kissed my cheek whilst his gray hair tickled my forehead. He got me up from my bed as my eyes skimmed my room.

I cringed looking at the mess I had painfully made these past two weeks. Shuffling all the torn up pieces of paper to the bin, which was already full.

Suga had fixed my easels, lining them up like I would want them in the corner of my room.

We continued to clean my room and I had felt the need to apologize to him. Also to question of why he had come over anyway, not that I mind.

"Suga? I'm sorry if you had to do something and got stuck here because of me." My dejected voice sounded in the room, I felt pathetic really.

Looking up, I was faced with his charming smile that had made me fall head over heels with long ago.

"I didn't have any plans, don't worry. And I'd always love to take care of you anytime." He sent me an air blown kiss.

I smiled back and chuckled a bit while catching it, placing it in my back pocket for later.

When we were finally done with the cleaning, I persuaded Suga to stay for dinner as an apology. Letting him help me clean my messy room was something I felt guilty for but was glad he offered.

"It's always good to see you Sugawara." I heard my mom say as I helped clean the kitchen as dinner was finished with.

"You too, Mrs. (L/n)." He responded respectively towards my mom. Suga's always been the most polite person out of the two of us.

"It's going to get a bit dark soon. You might want to head home, but you're always welcome to stay the night. If your parents have no issue with it." My mom said, giving me wink. I could always count on her to be my wing woman when I needed it.

"Ah, that's right. Thank you! I haven't even thought of the time."

Grabbing my boyfriend's hand gently, I lead him back to my bedroom. Hearing a small chuckle come from my mom and she went to watch TV in our living room.

"Are you confident to create a wonderful piece of artwork now?" I heard Suga inquire from behind me.

"I'm lacking in the inspiration department but other than that, yes, I think." I smiled at him while gathering up his coat and shoes.

"You might want to go home before it gets dark outside, hon." I passed him his things as he looked like he just got an amazing idea.

"How about I give you some inspiration?" He mischievously said. Setting his coat down on my bed, his shoes on my floor, and walked to opposite side of my easel.

Kōshi laid on my floor with one hand on his hip and the other holding his head up with a contorted face.

"Draw me like one of your French girls." He chuckled as I couldn't help but to burst out in laughter.

"Kōshi! Dear God, pray for me." I rolled my eyes at his form.

"Well at lea-." He had begun to say but I immediately cut him off at the sparkle of an idea.

"Wait! Don't move! You actually just gave me something I can work with." I almost shouted at him and hurried to get my art supplies.

Paying attention to the canvas and looking up at him every once in a while. I created an absolute masterpiece.

I had drew a picture of my dear Kōshi but he was on a serf board, riding a wave. It was silly but magnificent nonetheless to me.

When I had got done, I physically and mentally felt better. Noticing that Suga had almost fell asleep on the floor because of how long I took. I awoke him with a question.

"Kōshi, do you want to stay over tonight?" I questioned him, already walking over to my dresser getting the comfy clothes he wore last time.

"Thank you. I don't think I could walk home in this state." He gave me a small tired, but grateful smile.

"No, I should be thanking you. I'm so glad I got that piece of art done. I feel so much better, like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

"I'd do anything for you, sugar." He kissed my forehead and headed towards the bathroom.

I used that time to change into my pajamas, as well as turning on my fairy lights.

When he was done I had put everything away and climbed into my bed.

"You ready?" I mumbled getting into the comfortable strawberry printed covers I had.

"Of course. Goodnight sugar, I love you."

A smile graced my lips, "I love you too, so much." I cuddled against him, swarmed in blankets.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my "Haikyuu x Reader Oneshots" on Wattpad! I'm slowly trying to transition to Tumblr then to AO3! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from Jimena Martinez on Pinterest

[cookieeks-art]

Here’s a little project I worked on last year, but kinda, forgot to post? It’s a fake Red shoes art book spread for Edda! The composition, and art styles used, is mainly based on Snow White first page, and Arthur's second page from the actual art book, including of course the artist featured in them (aka Jeon Mi-jin (전미진) who drew the art that the art on the first page and the drawing to the top right on the second page is based on, Kim Sang-jin (김상진) aka Jin Kim who drew the art that the first drawing and the four lower drawings in the second page are based on, and Choi Minjeong (최민정) who drew the the art that the top middle drawing on the second page is based on.) (I had to use Google translate to get the names in the Latin alphabet, so I apologise if there’s any mistakes, I tried to keep the Korean name order for all the names, with the exception of Jin Kim.) [EDIT: I took a closer look Arthur’s first page today and realised that it served as a bigger inspiration for the first page that I drew then I remembered when first posting this, so shout out to that page as well which have two drawings made by Jeon Mi-jin and Choi Minjeong respectively.]

If you’ve been around for a bit you might also notice that two of the drawings on the second page are redraws of older sketches, which I mostly did as a fun treat for myself, since I find redrawing old art pretty fun. I also took this opportunity to give Harriet’s clothes a small makeover, taking some inspiration from Snow herself, a bit from the shapes of Drottning Kristinas gowns (like the drape around her shoulders and how puffy their arms are, and the general shape of the collar), and most likely from looking at details of other dresses I can’t recall at the moment (I do specifically remember looking up images of historical lace collars to get an idea of how they could look, but I don’t remember if I looked at a specific site or what sites I could have looked at in that case). I tried to keep it relatively simple with some spots for details, but looking at it now I’m not entirely sure how well it would fit the movies vine fashion wise (both Regina’s and Snow’s dresses both feel pretty modern to my amateur eyes looking at the cuts and shapes), then again I guess I can always say that the fashion is different kingdom to kingdom I suppose.

Also small shout out to Kay @the-moonlightknight who was someone who helped years ago to actually put words to Eddas personality back when I had to make a reference sheet for a discords event, which is the reference I went back to and used small parts of when writing the text for the first page.

(ID in alt and under the cut)

[ID:

Two fake Red shoes art-book pages depicting my oc Edda and Harriet (A pale chubby woman, with deep eyebags, brown hair and grey eyes).

The first shows Harriet, dressed in a blue dress with lace and snowflake themed embroidery, wearing a crown and matching necklace, with her hair up in a ponytail, is looking forlornly at the viewer, her hands held before her. Edda, dressed in her casual while fluffy shirt, dark muddy red skirt and bodice, and brown leather boots, is looking to the side with a lopsided smile and holding out her knife. Cookieek is written under both of them. Behind them is a wavy dark red graphic with a pattern of thin leaves. In the bottom right corner is two patterns running side by side, one of simple tight stitches, and a more detailed snowflake inspired embroidery pattern. To the upper right of the page is a block of text titled “Edda & Harriet”, and reading: “Edda is a wise woman in the woods that Arthur stumbles upon after entering Frode kingdom to search for it’s missing princess. Edda is also the identity taken on by said missing Princess Harriet after she was able to leave the castle behind. Her life as a mistreated princess has left her jaded and with a distain for nobility and royalty, but her escape has given her hope for a better life. In leaving the identity as Harriet Edda has made a big change in her way of dress, as well as letting the mask she’d been forced into as a royal slip. She’s determined, eccentric, and considerate, with a hunger for magic knowledge. At first she doesn’t realise she’s falling for Arthur, taken in by his ridiculous yet sensitive personality and his way of smiling, but when she does she’s sure she can’t tell him at risk of making things uncomfortable between them. She doesn’t realise that a lot of the ridiculous things Arthur has done has been to show love for her, and that they are both just as willing to sacrifice themselves for the other.”

The second is a page with drawings of Edda and Harriet. The first is a grey scale drawing Harriet looking mentally exhausted, with a thousand yard stare in a profile view. Second is a head shot of Harriet crying in a blue frilly nightgown as pale hands with long nails grip the sides of her face, tips of light brown hair hovering above her. Third is a drawing of Edda sitting and talking to someone while smiling as if she’s about to laugh. Fourth is a collection of greyscale drawings of Edda making a few expressions, such as: 1, looking intrigued while grinning sinisterly with a shadow over her eyes as she holds her chin, 2, looking in awe of something with shine in her eyes, her hands hovering in front of her, 3, looking embarrassed and startled, a blush across her face and her fist held to her chest, 4, scowling deeply with a dark shadow over her eyes. Cookieek is written under all of the images.

End of ID]

[thedemoninme141]

Blade Of Miquella Chapter 4: Woe Is Mine.

Summary: Wednesday recalls the moments before disaster. Warnings: MoreEmotionallyConfusedWednesday! ANGST Previous Chapter 👉 HERE.

After Wednesday left your room, You threw the glass of water away, You broke down. The demon inside you was winning, You knew you didn't have much time left before she takes full control of you. You knew no matter how many times you win a fight against her she return until she won the battle. You knew you were going to cause this world's demise.

No, you cannot give up, if you do, your brother's sacrifice will be for nothing. He will come back, you will wait until he comes back. He asked you to be brave, you will be brave. 

"Don’t worry, Edgar Allan. I see your sanctimonious smirk. But I will get the last laugh. Your penchant for riddles was legendary. And this might be your cleverest yet. Because it’s not a single riddle. Rather, each line is its own separate one.

“The opposite of moon.” Sun.

“A world between ours.” Nether.

“Two months before June.” April.

“A self-seeding flower.” Pansy.

“One more than one.” Two.

“Its leaves weep to the ground.” Willow. 

“It melts in the sun.” Ice.

“Its beginning and end never found.” Circle.

“Every rule has one.” Exception.

“The answer will give a sharp cracking sound.”

Snap Twice.

Secret societies. Hidden libraries. My mother staring at me in a judgmental way. These are all things I’ve come to expect.

Hundreds of books, which one was she looking for? Dust was everywhere, This place isn't very visited, so Wednesday looked where dust wasn't. Some dust was wiped away in front of one particular book, a subtle sign that someone had recently accessed it Possibly Rowan. She opened it and found the ripped edges of a page, where the page was missing, this is the one.

She sat in her room, matching the other piece of the ripped page with the book. It was clear,  She wasn't getting out of the school after burning it down, she was defending it from a pilgrim. But who? 

However, her curiosity was further piqued by the page that followed. A chilling sketch depicted a winged woman, her ethereal beauty contrasting sharply with her savage actions. The illustration showed her gripping the pilgrim by his neck, while the delicate petals of her wings tore into his flesh mercilessly. This enigmatic depiction added another piece to the puzzle, one that held no readily available information or context.

Birthdays aren't a thing for Wednesday, and she would rather swallow razor blades than celebrate her surprise party, But one good thing came from it, Her vision.

"Crackstone is coming."

Wednesday woke up in front of the gate of an abandoned mansion. She saw Goody right in front of her.

"You're the raven in my bloodline."

 In an instant, she stood beside her.

"Wednesday," she called.

"I was told you could teach me how to control my ability.

"There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning. Time is not on our side. To stop Crackstone, this place you must seek. Not only the fate of nevermore rests in your hand, but the whole world's does."

"Do you always speak in riddles?"

"Do you always seek simple answers?"

"The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You end up alone, unable to trust others, only seeing the darkness within them."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"It should."

That is how she found herself and her friend Enid escaping for their lives from the Hyde. Tyler injured. And Xavier showing up at the exact time the monster was gone, She doesn't need any more proof. Whenever she witnessed the monster before twice and as soon as it was gone, Xavier appeared, perhaps you put your faith in the wrong friend. 

As the sheriff dropped her back to Nevermore and she was going up the stairs of Nevermore, she heard Weems's voice.

"You directly violated my explicit order and left campus during a lockdown. Not to mention putting your peers and yourself in danger." Weems admonished.

"Which is grounds for expulsion. I know. And you have every right to exercise that option."  Wednesday said. "I do believe it would be a great error on your part."

Weems let out a disbelieving scoff.

"I think contrition might be in order right now, Miss Addams. Not hubris."

"I’ll never apologize for trying to uncover a truth." Wednesday asserted, holding her ground. She took out the pages she took from the book and gave them to Weems.

"What is this?" Weems asked.

"It's a warning from Rowan," Wednesday explained. Weems's expression changed as she looked at the first page, which depicted Wednesday defending the burning school against the pilgrim. However, when she turned to the next page, her hands went numb, and the paper fell before Wednesday picked it up again. The winged woman, Does it scare her more than the school burning down? 

"Is this why he tried to kill you?" she asked.

"His mother drew them before she died. Said I was destined to destroy the school." She said. "But I think I’m meant to save it."

Weems was silent.

Wednesday wanted to ask about whoever the winged woman is, but right now, she needed to prolong her stay at Nevermore first.

"Now you know what’s at stake. Everything you vowed to protect, no less. I think I deserve another chance." She said

With all her willpower, she added one final word.

"Please."

Weems let out an angry huff.

"One more infraction… One more step out of line and you will be expelled. No ifs, no buts."

"Enid and Xavier are spared as well." She said.

"And no more negotiation. Good night" Weems snapped before walking away. 

However, she didn't expect to see Enid packing her bags when she entered her room.

"Where are you going?" Wednesday inquired.

"Yoko’s room," Enid replied without even looking back at Wednesday, her voice missing the cheerfulness she always has.

"Thornhill said I could crash there for a few nights," she added.

"There’s no need. I spoke with Weems. You and Xavier won’t be punished."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" Enid turned around, her eyes revealing her disappointment and anger.

"I already apologized. It’s over."  Wednesday replied, trying to sound unbothered.

"Over? Tonight was the icing on the birthday cake you couldn’t even be bothered to cut. You’ll use anyone to get what you want, even if it means putting them in danger. Even if it meant hurting them emotionally, and digging into their traumas. We could have died tonight because of your stupid obsession."

"But we didn’t," Wednesday replied emotionlessly. "And now I’m one step closer to solving this case. That is what is important." She said.

"I’ve tried really, really, really hard to be your friend. Always put myself out there. Thought of your feelings. Told people, “I know she gives off serial killer vibes, but she’s just shy." "

"I never asked you to do that."

"You didn’t have to because that’s what friends do! They don’t have to be asked. The fact that you don’t know that says everything. If you want to keep playing with lives for your investigation, Go ahead, You want to be alone, Wednesday? Be alone. " Thus she left.

And for the first time ever, Wednesday didn't feel good to be alone. Questions flooded her mind,  Was this the emotion you wrestled with every single day? Could it be the reason why anyone who encountered you was effortlessly embraced by your unwavering acceptance, devoid of any doubts?  And just as every new feeling she faces comes on because of you, this time she felt sorrow, for you. Why were you doing this? Why were you making her feel? 

Maybe that is why she found herself running away from you while being pulled towards you at the same time.

Maybe that is why she found herself outside of Dr Kinbott's office after she was butchered by the hyde. Making a promise to herself that she will put an end to this.

Maybe that is why she found herself inside Xavier's art shack confronting him about the murders, finally putting him in jail as the proof was right in his shack. However, her mind couldn't help but worry for you, knowing that you would be affected when you found out about your friend's arrest.

Maybe that is why found herself in her room looking at you outside her window, waiting for her on the balcony. All the ways, lead to you. She made her way over to the balcony making sure her footsteps were inaudible however as she was a few feet away from you, she couldn't help but be captivated by how divine you looked illuminated by the moonlight. 

"Are you happy now Wednesday?" You broke the silence without even looking back at her as if you could sense her presence. 

Wednesday didn't answer, voice seems to be an issue with you around these past few days. 

"You took whatever remained away from me. My love, my trust, my best friend,"  you whispered, your words cutting through the air like a knife. Wednesday's heart sank as she heard the hurt in your voice, realizing the impact of her actions on your life.

"I caught the killer, I made the school safer for everyone. Xavier might be your friend, but that doesn't give him the right to freely murder anyone, He also could've hurt you." she tried to reason with you, hoping you would understand her perspective.

"Xavier would never hurt me, he protected me, he was here when I needed him the most. And look what I gave him in return, I betrayed him for you." You finally looked into her eyes, as if your eyes could send death rays Wednesday blinked, but she never blinks. 

"Why can't you understand? You didn't betray him; you merely did what was necessary by providing me with the crucial evidence. You aided me in saving countless lives from a dark fate in the future. Look what he did to Eugene." Wednesday could see the tears in your eyes, she could see the pain of losing everyone right through your eyes. As if you were a magnet and she was metal, she felt drawn to you, she felt the urge to touch you, grab your hands, your shoulder, she felt the urge to do what she didn't let anyone do to her. She wanted to hug you. Maybe if she did you might feel what she feels for you, as you went out of your way for her, she finally was ready to go out of her's for you, 

But you didn't accept her.

As she tried to grab your shoulder, pulling you in for the so-called "hug", you pushed her away. You pushed her away and ran.

Wednesday doesn't have any right to feel hurt after what she did to you, yet she does.

Maybe that's why she found herself in  Weathervane Cafe. Kissing Tyler and having a vision of him murdering Dr Kinbott. Finally regretting her choices, and getting used as a pawn to frame Xavier.

Maybe that's why she found herself in the police station, after her attempt of torturing Tyler into confession failed horribly, as he stood before her,  "The sound of their screams, the panic in their eyes, and a fear so primal I could taste it. And it was delicious." He whispered in her ears. "And I cannot wait to taste HER'S, You have no idea what’s coming." Tyler knew about what you mean to her, and he will use it against her. Maybe that's why she found herself in Weems's office, hoping she would trust her, trying to convince her that Tyler is the Hyde. But of course, she doesn't.  Maybe that's why she found herself in front of Xavier. To get any help, any proof to use against Tyler, "I’m… glad you were getting some action while I was falsely accused." He said, his voice filled with sarcasm. "I should’ve believed you," Wednesday said, wanting to make amends.  "But since you seem to have some psychic connection to the Hyde, I was curious if you’ve drawn anything that might shed light on this?" Wednesday was willing to beg for any help, any proof. Not because of the school, but because of you, your life was on the line. "You want my help? You ruined my life! No. I tried being your friend. Look where that got me. You used my friend against me." "It is about her too, if I can't stop whatever is coming, her life would be in danger too." She took out the pages to show him too, hurriedly, however, the winged woman's sketch fell from her hands in front of him. "Tyler warned me something bad was coming. I think…" "Where did you get that? You didn't show it to me last time." Tyler said pointing at the sketch. Wednesday picked up the sketch from the floor. She didn't expect Xavier to know anything about it as he didn't know much about the first sketch. "Who is it?" she asked. He couldn't say the truth to Wednesday, even if you helped her, he won't do the same, He doesn't trust Wednesday with you, if the way leads to you getting hurt, he won't do it.  "It doesn't matter, if you really think this is premonitions of the future, then the future is already doomed." He said. "I can stop this. I"  Xavier didn't let her finish, "No, you can't, All you ever do is make things worse. Do you want to stop this? Then leave. Go far away and never come back. Do you understand?"

Maybe that's why she found herself thinking if Xavier was right, maybe whatever she touches, Rots away. Whoever she comes in contact with, gets hurt. Maybe she would be sparing you, by getting away from you. Yet her heart couldn't bear thinking of not seeing you ever again for her entire life.

Maybe that's why she found herself falling for Thornhill's trap as she finally found out about who Tyler's master was through Eugene, yet she couldn't do anything as Thornhill cuts the palm of her hand and awakens the deceased pilgrim from his slumber.

Maybe that's why, even with a knife in her stomach, she only thought about getting up, using all her remaining strength to save you. Maybe that's what made her worthy enough in Goody's eyes to be saved and given a second chance. "Just know, once I do, you will never see me again. The school needs you, She needs you. Wednesday."

Maybe that's why she found herself between Crackstone and the school, fighting her last stand,  As she was defeated against Crackstone's power, being choked by his invisible force, she wondered about the one single piece of the puzzle she couldn't fit in any of this, who was the armored woman in Xavier's painting? who was the winged woman in the sketch?

"Get away from her." she heard the familiar voice.

Then she realized the answer was always with her, helping her from the start, making a permanent residence in her stone-cold heart, as she looked behind to see, in the elegant armor from the painting, a long sword attached to the right hand, She saw You.

Larissa's body trembled as she struggled to rise from the floor, her determination outweighing the weakness the poison had inflicted upon her. With every ounce of strength left, she willed her shapeshifting abilities to work in her favor, mending the damage the toxic substance had caused. The pain was excruciating, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on.

Using the table beside her as support, she managed to stand on her shaky legs. Her heart raced as she patted her pockets, the gun and the unalloyed gold bullet still securely tucked away. PART 5 👉 HERE