#No idea if it’s been done before but it’s the best thing I’ve ever drawn

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

This came to me like a vision

#No idea if it’s been done before but it’s the best thing I’ve ever drawn #dewey duck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #duckverse #wacky's art

[live-laugh-neteyam]

can you do a hurt/comfort w/ Neteyam, Ao'nung, or Lo'ak where they're in a arranged marriage and the reader thinks that they don't love her the way she loves them.

kind of based off of that one scene from the Corpse Bride?

"I love you, Victor. But you're not mine,"

that's if you're taking requests. if not, I love your works and thanks for reading this! ❤️

You’re Not Mine ||| lo’ak x omatikaya!reader

hi lovie! thanks for the request 💞 ok so I've never seen the corpse bride so hopefully I didn't butcher this 🙈

masterlist

pairings: lo’ak x omatikaya!fem!reader

summary: alexa, play yours by conan gray

words: 1k

warnings/notes: angst (because that’s all I know how to do apparently) arranged marriage, one sided love, use of y/n, lo’ak is emotionally constipated, sweet ending tho

It was never difficult to love him. Falling for him was the easiest thing you had ever done. Like a moth to a flame you were drawn to him from the start. All he had to do was want you back.

But he never did.

Always feeling like the outcast of the clan, Lo'ak kept his heart guarded. More often than not he'd get hurt and he couldn't stand another heartbreak.

So Lo'ak swore off love. Never giving anyone a chance he declined every potential mate that came his way. He'd rather stay alone than risk the familiar ache in his chest.

Lo'ak's stubbornness as usual was testing his father's patience. Being well into adulthood, Jake was ready to see his youngest son settle down. It seemed the only way for that to happen was for Jake to take matters into his own hands.

The Olo'eyktan noticed the way your eyes always seemed to land on Lo'ak no matter what you were doing. You had grown into a fine hunter, beloved by the clan. You would be a great match for his son.

Jake sat you down along with your parents to ask your approval. He wouldn't force you into something you didn’t want, but he felt an arranged marriage would be best for his son.

The idea of finally being with the man you've been in love with for years lit your heart ablaze. But then the cruel reality of it came crashing down.

It was an arrangement. Not love.

With teary eyes you accepted Jake's proposal. You'd rather have Lo'ak to some extent than lose him completely.

Lo'ak was outraged with his father for not only allowing this, but causing it. He became shut off even more than he already was. Lo'ak hardly even looked at you anymore. It broke your heart.

A part of Lo'ak felt bad for resenting you. Deep down he knew you didn't deserve to be treated like this, stuck in this arrangement just like him. But his twisted mind told him that you were only here because you pitied him.

You tried desperately to get Lo’ak to see your love for him. But it was no use, you couldn’t make him see what he refused to.

Preparing dinner for yourself you weren’t expecting Lo’ak to be home anytime soon. Usually he stayed out until eclipse. You assumed that he couldn’t stand to be around you anymore than he had to.

You heard someone enter the tent. Looking up you were met with the last person you expected. Eyes widening you couldn’t help the look of shock on your face.

Lo’ak took in your wide eyes. You quickly went back to what you were doing. He sighed. After a few weeks of sulking he decided to actually give this a shot. If you had to be together it shouldn’t have to be miserable.

Besides, Lo’ak would be lying if he said he didn’t like you. Growing up he always admired your kindness. You never treated anyone differently, including himself.

“You’re back early.” You whispered as he sat across from you.

“I thought we could eat together.” He said nervously.

“Why?” It slipped out before you could stop it. You internally cringed at your bluntness.

“I understand if you don’t want to. I just thought-“ he sighed trailing off.

“I’d love to, Lo’ak.” You smiled at him.

“But why?” He stared at you stunned. “I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you when you did nothing to deserve it.”

“I want to make this work.”

“You don’t have to pretend Y/N. You can leave at any time and I won’t say a thing. I won’t fuck up your life anymore than I already have.”

“Lo’ak.” You sighed. “Please don’t say such things.”

“Please don’t.” He sighed looking up at you with watery eyes.

“Don’t what?” Your heart pinching at the sight of him.

“Don’t act like you want me. I wouldn’t be able to take the rejection. Not from you.” A tear slid down his cheek.

“Oh Lo’ak,” you sighed reaching your hand out to cup his cheek.

“No one wants me. Not even myself.” He whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

His words broke your heart in two. If only he knew how truly loved he was. Lo’ak caused himself the headache he was trying to avoid by building his walls too high.

"I want you!” You exclaimed. All of the pent up emotion you’ve been holding for weeks exploding out of you. “I would rip my heart out and lay it at your feet if that's what you asked of me."

“Y/N, what are you saying?” He breathed.

"I see you, Lo'ak." You confessed, hugging yourself tight as tears stung your eyes. "But you're not mine."

Lo’ak stared at you stunned. He couldn’t believe that you, the kindness and purest person he knew saw something worthwhile in him.

“I’m so stupid.” He muttered rubbing his palms over his face. “I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You took his hands in yours slowly bringing them up to your lips. Not breaking eye contact with him you gently kissed his knuckles.

“I. See. You.” You mumbled, lips still pressed against his knuckles.

Lo’ak stared in awe at you. His heartbeat quickened as a strange swirling feeling took over his stomach. Looking down he noticed the way you gently cradled his hands, as if you were holding precious stones.

His breath caught in his throat. He cursed himself for being so hard hearted. How did he go so long without seeing you?

Moving his hands to cup your face he slowly leaned in. Your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation for what was to come, praying that this wasn’t a dream.

His lips hesitantly met yours. You felt like your body was lit on fire. Pulling him closer you passionately kissed him back. As your lips moved in sync the sound of walls crumbling filled your ears.

Taglist:

 @ilovejakesullysdick @fanboyluvr @athenalikethegoddess @loverofallthingsfandom @forasgaard @plzfeedmebread @instabull @avatarappreciationblog @romimiux @ferrtan @tammitammytime @eternallyvenus @dreamyescapesfromreality @dvxsja @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @mightyneteyam @doggyteam2028

#avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #fanfiction #becca writes 🌙 #lo’ak avatar #lo’ak x y/n #lo’ak angst #lo’ak fanfiction #lo’ak x you #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak #requests #angst

[stray-kaz]

Out of Bounds : a Jake Seresin x reader FF : I

Summary: Jake comes across something he can never pass up: a prize he’s been told he cannot win.

A/N: I did not plan on having this be longer than a oneshot, but the idea got more fleshed out as I thought it over, so it’s likely to be three to five chapters long instead.

Please let me know what you think so far!

Warning: A smidge of saucy language.

“Who’s the pretty little thing over there with Bob?” Jake asked Natasha, drinking you in from afar.

She raised her perfect dark eyebrows at him and shook her head.

“Nuh uh, Bagman, no way. She is majorly out of your jurisdiction.”

Jake looked away from you to stare at Natasha instead, taken aback.

“Why?” he demanded. “Is she his girlfriend? If you say she is, I’m not going to believe you.”

Natasha shook her head again and patted him with faux sympathy on the shoulder.

“Worse, much worse for you, sky cowboy. She’s his little sister.”

Bob clocked the direction of Jake’s burning gaze and moved to physically block his view, but you had already noticed.

“Who’s the golden boy keeping an eye on me?” you asked, intrigued.

“That’s Jake” your brother answered grudgingly. “He’s one of the best pilots here.”

“Huh” you muttered. “Men like him don’t usually look twice at me. Interesting.”

Bob scoffed. 

“No” he started to argue. “Not interesting. Count yourself lucky men like him don’t usually look twice at you. Stay away from him.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Man, you must really hate him to warn me off. You’ve never done that before.”

Bob sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding his glasses down a bit.

“I don’t hate him” he said, almost growling. “I’ve never had to warn you off before because no one ever turned your head.”

You smiled warmly and kissed Bob’s cheek, patting his shoulder lightly.

“Big brother, my head has been turned once or twice, you just never saw it.”

He groaned and slung an arm over your shoulders, knocking his head gently against yours.

“I still don’t need to see it, little sister. Eyes up and hands off the golden boy.”

You started to head off in the exact direction Bob didn’t want you to go, and he reached out to snatch at your wrist, loosely caging it with his fingers. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Just to say hi to Phoenix” you replied, and pulled free.

Natasha looked up at your approach and cast a quick glance at Jake, who was eyeing you as you stepped closer and closer. Finally, you reached them and hugged Natasha, propping your chin on her shoulder to meet Jake’s gaze.

“So, my brother has warned me off you” you said, arching your eyebrows at him. “Anyone know why that is?”

Natasha snorted and stepped back, briefly squeezing your hands.

“Well, for one, we call him Bagman because he always leaves us high and dry” she told you, grinning up at the man in question.

You watched Jake closely, his green eyes narrowing on you when your gaze didn’t drop, his perfect spun gold hair threatening to fall over his forehead but not quite managing.

“Well, I’d say he leaves a woman or two high, but I doubt he’s ever left one dry” you murmured wryly.

Natasha choked and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise before a well practiced smirk curled the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I sure didn’t expect that attitude from Bob’s sister” he told you, something lighting behind his eyes. “I thought you’d be quiet, like him.”

“Oh, I am, but not when it counts” you replied, flushing under his stare.

“Is that so? You can get loud, darlin’?” Jake pressed on, drawing out the teasing.

Natasha covered her ears with her hands and walked away, pulling a face. She could see Bob watching you and Jake flirting, his jaw set sharply and his eyebrows drawn together in a furious frown. She stopped in front of him with her arms folded.

“I feel for you, I really do” she said somberly. 

Bob blinked at her, puzzled.

“What?” he asked, a little blank.

“There’s no stopping that runaway train, my friend. Hangman is gonna reel that girl in like a fish and he is never gonna throw her back” she answered. 

Bob sighed heavily and nodded.

“I was worried about that” he muttered. “What is he saying to her?”

Natasha glanced back over at where you and Jake were standing, and winced. He had stepped closer to you, his hands in his pockets, leaning in towards you slightly. Your arms were crossed over your chest, but your head was tipped back and your hips were slanted toward Jake.

She looked back at Bob.

“They are having a conversation with their body language and you don’t want to hear it.”

He groaned and turned his back, walked away a half dozen feet, and then changed direction, stormed over to stand so close to Jake they were almost touching. Your eyes widened as you stared up at your big brother, and Jake turned to meet Bob’s gaze head on with the barest flinch.

“Can I help you?” he asked pointedly.

Bob nodded abruptly and jabbed a finger in your direction.

“If you hurt her, they’ll never find your body” he promised, and left them standing there in shock.

No pressure tag : @withahappyrefrain​

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #tgm fic #liss writes

[lookinghalfacorpse]

Hi! I'm sorry for bothering but i just found your account. You're the writer of "in the wild all lessons last" right? Do you still remember your fic where techno like to dance with his friends? I believe it's called "one-two-three". I was wondering if you have more ideas for it, beacause i love it so much and crave more :) it's fine if you don't. I just really want to know if techno manage to teach dream tango after they got out. Do they dance regularly? Did dream become good at it? ,ect... anyway, love your writing style❤

you made my day ty :)

yes, i did write "in the wild all lessons last," and my first dsmp fic ever was "one-two-three" !!  i watched this video when i was doing research for it, and it made me decide to go with tango for dream and techno. something about the style always seemed combative to me, so i think the best fighters on the server would really vibe with it.

so, i do think dream would be good at it, but it might take him some time to get there...

-------

/dsmp /rp

Dream hasn’t left his bed in about 23 hours.

It’s not that Technoblade’s been counting or anything.  He’s been busy doing other things-- he cleaned the animal stalls and set out fresh hay (which took around 4 hours), trained with the Axe of Peace (about 3 hours), took an embarrassingly long nap (4 hours total, with a brief intermission for dinner which took an extra hour), and read (2 hours).  Combined with his approximate 9 hour night prior, that takes us to 23 hours of almost no movement from Dream whatsoever.  But, again, Techno was not counting.

With the sun low in the sky, and with next to no attention from his former cellmate all day, he headed up to the guest room himself.

He saw Phil take some extra blankets up to him earlier, and while many of them were stacked on top of Dream’s legs and torso, both which were entirely too thin, others were rolled up between his arms and held tightly in a half-asleep embrace.  His hair, overgrown and wild, was partially in his face.  Techno struggled to peer between the tangled strands to get a look at Dream’s face, expecting to see him fully lost in sleep, but was surprised to spot a pair of green eyes looking back at him.

“Oh, hey, roomie.”

“Hey,” came the hoarse reply.

Techno sat on the edge of the mattress, slowly and carefully, aware of how his weight might jostle Dream.  “I got a job for you tomorrow,” Techno said.

Dream gave him a suspicious stare.  Small and limp on the bed, he didn’t look capable of completing any ‘jobs.’

“Dog brushin’,” Techno continued with a smile.  “I’ve been puttin’ it off, so I’m makin’ it your problem.”

Dream adjusted the way his head sat on the pillow, burrowing himself into it more.  He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.  His skin was drawn taut over his skull, pale and sickly, and his eye sockets bore a heavy shadow.  They might’ve been bruised.  “When?”

“Whenever, really.  I can wake you up after I’m done feedin’ everyone, maybe?  I just gotta show you where the brushes are, and tell you which dogs need it.”

“Mm-kay.”

Victory for Technoblade.  He grinned.  “Cool, cool.  See you tomorrow, then, nerd.”

He was about to lift himself from the mattress when Dream’s voice stopped him.  “Wait.”  

“Mm?”

“You wanted to dance with me.  In the prison.”

“Correction: I did dance with you.  That counted.”  Techno folded a leg below him on the bed, getting comfortable again.  “And I’m still teachin’ you to tango, like I promised.  Then we’re gonna dance all the time.”

“I’m even worse than I was before.  I walked to the bathroom by myself earlier and I fell.”  Behind the mess of his hair, Dream’s eyes were wet.  “You’re not gonna be able to keep your promise.”

Moments of total silence weren’t common in Techno’s life.  Even in times of peace, quiet spaces were usually filled with whatever repetitive nonsense the Voices yelled at him.  The Voices seemed just as shocked at Dream’s rare display of vulnerability as he was, though, and the silence in the room was unbearable.  He heard his own breath.  He heard Dream swallow, hard.

“You underestimate me, dude.  Look, I can dance with you right now.”

Giving little space for disagreements, Techno shoved his forearms under the mass of blankets and lifted.  For as light as Dream was before, he seemed even lighter now.  A few more months of starvation will do that to a man, he supposed.  The blankets Dream held in his arms were left abandoned on the mattress, unraveling as they dropped.  Before he was able to let out more than a muffled ‘Mmnpf!” of surprise, Dream was fully cradled and supported several feet off the ground.

Like before, Techno started moving.

He swayed, keeping the movement relatively slow.  He still remembered the pattern they created in the cell; 1-2-3-left-1-2-3-left, and he started there, tracing a circle around the guest room with his hooves.  His steps were more resounding and rich here than they were in the cell.  There, the obsidian made a sharp sound, but the wood of the cabin seemed more appropriate for a dance.

All the while, Dream was simply along for the ride.  The corners of his mouth curved into a smile.

“Tango’s all about pacin’, right?  So here’s what we’re gonna do.  Five steps, and the first two are slow,”  Techno stepped forward twice, starting with his left, “then fast twice,” he stretched his right leg outward, bringing them to the side with two quick steps, “and slowly drag the left foot back to meet, see? Slow-slow-fast-fast-slow.”

----------

Tango is all about pacing.

An observer wouldn’t be able to tell who was leading the steps-- they seemed to switch at random, constantly shifting their footwork and adapting to one another.  Slow-slow-fast-fast-slow.  One moment, Techno was clearly stepping forward, and the next, he’d be led back by Dream.  The trick was in their hands, actually; when Dream wanted to lead, he’d press his palms forward into Techno’s hands.  Techno, unfailingly, would let him.

And, of course, there were the moments of agility that Techno knew his partner would be fantastic with.  He’d sweep ahead, blocking Dream’s feet, and looked forward to seeing what jump or flair he’d use to counter the movement.

“Your hair’s whiter than I remember,” Techno commented once as he lead them into a Grapevine spin, bringing his hooves close together to base himself as he lead Dream around.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” was Dream’s somewhat dismissive answer.  His voice, no longer as small and hoarse as it used to be, projected well over the record player.  Techno had a collection of different music styles and genres that he liked to pull out for different dances, and he had a variety that were good for tango.  Some were slow, dramatic, and elegant, while others were more energetic and lively.  This day tended towards the latter, though they still shared many slow, dark routines that harkened back to their earliest dances together.  Dream would come to him with a heartbroken look in his eyes, and Techno would know what to do.

“Weird bleach job?”

“Uh, yeah, we’ll go with that, sure.”

Technoblade was no idiot.  He knew his rival was up to something.  The guy always seemed to have some kind of agenda he wouldn’t talk about, but whatever it was, it didn’t involve Techno right now, so he didn’t push it.  The back-and-forth of a good dance could be enough for now.

After all, he did make a promise.

#sorry this took me so long i was staring at it like O_o #lmao #'do you have any more ideas' 'no but i will if you give me a week or so' #this was a nice ask so i wanted to write something for it #i almost deleted one-two-three bc i don't think it's my best work #but nice ppl like yourself made me feel better abt it #so ty !! #ctechnoblade #c!technoblade #cdream #c!dream #rivalsblr #rivals duo #rivalsduo #drabbles #asks #dreblr

[undignifiedaquarium]

loving you out loud

for @locklyle-week day 1: firsts

a/n: First “I love you.” Here’s a little something I wrote because as much as I crave reading desparate confessions drawn out in the middle of dangerous situations, they also deserve something softer. Set in the future. I am v new to this fandom and writing these characters so please, be kind.

They’ve never been much for words. Or at least he hasn’t, not in the way that matters, Lockwood thinks as he peers over the top of his magazine at Lucy curled up on the other end of the couch. She’s got her nose buried in a book, completely oblivious to him. Her eyebrows are adorably scrunched together and her eyes feverishly tear across the pages in front of her.

It’s been years since she walked into his life and it still always feels like there are so many things he hasn’t told her, or doesn’t say enough. They are much more practiced at revealing things through unspoken communication. So much can be said through a glance across the kitchen table in the morning, smiles exchanged over tea, or touches and gifts and rescues that they have done a million times over by now. Sometimes it feels like they don’t ever need to articulate what’s left unsaid because they both know the score. But still, Lockwood thinks to himself, she deserves more than that.

It’s not like Lucy has ever been one to mince words. She’s called him out on his own bullshit time and time again, challenging him and reminding him that there are people who care about whether or not he makes it home alive. Her honesty was one of the first things that impressed him in that fated interview. She says what she thinks, and doesn’t back down. Truth be told it has saved them all in so many ways since then, even if it may drive him and George mad from time to time.

Looking at her now, Lockwood is once again captivated by her. In her pajamas, curled up with a quilt nestled around her and a steaming cup of tea in her hand she looks so comfortable, so relaxed. She looks radiant. It makes his heart pang with adoration. He wants to capture this moment and keep reliving it for the rest of time.

Because for every moment like this that they get, there are three more where his heart is hammering in his chest with worry or panic that something bad is going to happen to the beautiful, brave, incredible girl cozied up across from him. Too many of their firsts have happened in or been born from those moments when their lives are on the line and he aches a bit to give them both some softer memories.

Lucy chuckles lightly to herself at the other end of the couch, clearly having read something of note in that book of hers. She then takes a massive bite of the biscuit in her hand and finally looks up, meeting his eyes.

“What?” Lucy asks, “I got crumbs on my jumper or something?”

Lockwood laughs, “No, nothing like that. I just…I love you, that’s all.”

“Oh is that all?” She sits up and puts her book down next to her, a grin splitting across her face but also a hint of exasperation in her voice.

He feels himself blushing slightly, and looks down at his hands before glancing back up at her.

“Yes, well I know that sometimes I’m not the best at…articulating what I’m feeling. But I wanted to get it on the record and all that.”

“Lockwood I — “ she starts, scooting close and reaching out to take his hands in hers.

But he’s already on a roll. “I just realized I had never actually said it out loud and, well, we’ve put off a lot of other things until we’re in the thick of it and I wanted to make sure I told you now and not when we’re, you know, fighting for our lives. Point being, I don’t want that to be one more thing I’ve left unsaid.”

He’s really started rambling now, because her eyes have gone wide with something bordering on disbelief. Lucy is giving him a look that tells him she had absolutely no idea he’s been head over heels for her for…shit he doesn’t even know how long. Long enough that loving her feels as natural as breathing.

“Oh come off it Luce, you know I’ve been in love with you for a damn long time now.”

Her response comes out as a half laugh, half shout, and she smacks him with a throw pillow, “I did not, you idiot!”

Lockwood suddenly turns deadly serious, desperately needing her to understand how much he means this. How he is truly deeply, irrevocably in love. “Lucy, you make me feel seen and cared for in a way that for a long time, I didn’t think would ever be possible again. Even when everything is hard and frankly terrifying, I am still so glad you stormed into my life. I love you.”

At this, Lucy moves one hand to his face, rubbing her thumb softly along his cheekbone and looking at him with such longing and tenderness that he feels like he might just fall in love with her all over again. Lockwood slowly closes the distance between the two of them and kisses her like he’s drowning and she’s a breath of fresh air.

“I love you too, you know.” She breaks away and looks up at him with a soft and teasing smile, “to put it on the record and all that.”

#locklyle #locklyle week 2023 #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #can you tell that these two are consuming my every waking thought these days #honestly didn’t even think i was gonna write anything for this week and then #i was *inspired* #and also re-reading some fics i wrote for another fandom a long time ago #all to say…here we are TA DA #mwrites #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #locklyle fic

[bihansthot]

I’m probably not going to be around much today lovelies, as I mentioned earlier in the week it’s the 25th anniversary of my heart transplant and ngl it’s weird. I’m in a weird place today, I’m trying really hard not to be sad or upset or think about how traumatic that night was. I don’t remember a lot about the night but I remember the phone ringing late at night maybe just after midnight and I remember going into my parents bedroom, they didn’t have to come get me, and I said “it’s time”, I just knew it as soon as I heard the phone and they confirmed it and we relatively calmly got our stuff and drove to the hospital. I had no idea what I was getting into and had I known, I would have not reacted as calmly as I did. I remember they had to draw blood before the procedure to use during the operation, I remember it taking over 25 attempts to get all the blood they needed and I was sobbing, I was in so much pain and I absolutely hated getting my blood drawn as a kid and while 14 isn’t exactly a little kid anymore it’s certainly not an adult either. I still remember the nurse who was there with us, she had a very distinct, raspy voice despite being quite young and to this day people with that type of voice bring back this very unpleasant memory. I don’t remember anything after the blood draw, they give you medication to help you forget traumatic operations and it doesn’t get much more traumatic than a heart transplant. I don’t really remember much of recovery either, I do remember how painful it was when they made me walk though. I wanted to go home and they said I had to walk to the end of the hall to go home and if I couldn’t do it they would keep me at the hospital another day. You better believe I dragged all my various IVs and monitors down that hallway in an instant. My incision was bleeding afterwards and I felt like I was going to collapse but I held that shit together like the stubborn ass I am and gave them a smile and told them it was nothing and I was ready to go. Shockingly they didn’t notice the bloody incision or my clear exhaustion and I was allowed to go home after only 7 days which at the time was a record. The weeks and months that followed were absolute agony, a heart transplant is a ridiculously painful procedure the only time I’ve ever been in more physical pain is when I threw up from my painkillers after having my tricuspid valve replaced 10 years ago. It was awful, I couldn’t even wash myself, I had to have my mother give me a bath like I was a five year old and that was humiliating but I couldn’t do anything about it, it was just too painful to move my arms to wash myself when my whole sternum had been ripped open and was now held together by twist ties and super glue. Then there was the near constant pain from the weekly biopsies to check for rejection, they basically jam a catheter into your neck and then rip little chunks of your heart out to check to make sure your body isn’t rejecting the organ. On top of all that I gained so much weight from the medications and steroids I was on and my mother was an absolute monster about it. We had a very bad very toxic relationship during this time, she ridiculed me constantly but I depended on her for so much that I couldn’t do anything about it. I was so miserable and wanted nothing more than to die. I don’t want to get to into it though but it was really hard so trying to think positively about today is really difficult but on the positive side of things I’m still here. I made it through all that hardship, all that struggle, all that physical and mental anguish. I survived. For 25 years I have survived and while everyday hasn’t been easy, I didn’t give up. I guess I deserve to celebrate that at least even if I don’t like dwelling on all the misery I’ve endured. So, happy anniversary me, you’ve done the best you could and deserve a nice celebration. I know a lot of you lovelies aren’t going to read this but if you do, thank you, I appreciate you taking the time to get to know me outside of being a horny Bi-Han fangirl. 💙

#personal #medical stuff #heart transplant #anniversary

[ciara-knightly]

knight squad: if we had a 4 season run

i’ve been thinking a lot of thoughts about how amazing knight squad would have been with a proper four season run. i don’t think i would ever have the energy to write a full fanfic, but it’s been five years since the show’s conclusion, so i wanted to share some of my ideas. here’s a 2k outline on how i think the plot could have gone:

season 1

season 1 is already pretty god-tier in my opinion, so i wouldn’t change much! i think they covered a lot in terms of character and relationship development, and did a great job building an interesting plot that tied back in the finale.

one of the things i would change though is the whole presentation of ciara/princess, and how it’s done through her hair. i’ve seen some discussion about it floating around before, so some of y’all probably know where i’m getting at with this. i don’t know if it was intentional, but the implications of her straightened/relaxed hair being part of what makes her elegant is really questionable  to me and i do find it racist. i do like her loose curls for ciara because being ciara is when she gets to let loose and be who she really is. but for the princess, i think they really could have done another style like braids, or have her hair tied up in a bun to represent how she is holding herself back, or have her hair wrapped. i also think they could have incorporated other ways to show the difference between the princess and ciara that don’t rely on hair – facial markings/face paint for the royal family, or the princess covers her face with a face veil.

also just. give her a name!!! for the fanfic writers if not for anyone else. i know it’s a kid’s show and they probably didn’t want to make it too confusing or something, but also kids are not that dumb.

in terms of character, in the show, arc adapts to being part of a team really well. personally, i would have drawn that out, and had a plot where arc needs to get used to being on a team after being a lone wolf for so long and learning how to trust the others to have his back. i think the writers almost went in that direction, because in the pilot when the phoenix squad is assigned to fight the stone knight, arc tells them to step back and says he has it, and ciara says “but we’re supposed to be a team!” but he ignores her. and it works out okay that time, but i expected it to come back later and it was just dropped. so this is something i would have developed over the course of the season, and then everyone coming together to save him from ryker in the season finale being the culmination of him realizing he has people to watch his back now and he isn’t alone.

season 2

okay so you know how i kept most of season 1? yeah we’re doing the opposite for season 2. we’re throwing pretty much all of it out. yEET. prudy and warwick are not going to find out right at the beginning of the season, we’re not getting the ciara and sage relationship development quite yet, no one is getting knighted, and there’s no weird superhero episode with trolls that are   antisemitic caricatures.

however, there will be more plots centered around prudy and warwick. we get to see more of prudy’s giant background, and warwick struggling to live up to his family name and what being a magical wizard means. so there are episodes like the election episode and the one with warwick’s dad.

at the same time, we get more of the relationships in the phoenix squad, and arc and ciara will also start to realize how hard it is keeping their secrets from their best friends. they have some really close calls when it comes to balancing their secrets with their friendships.

arc and ciara also start having some romantic development in the latter half of the season, but it happens subtly. like people thinking they’re a couple leading to awkward denial, seeing the other dressed up for an event and having that “whoa” moment, being unusually jealous or protective, etc.

okay i really want an episode where there’s just a shit ton of miscommunication and the princess accidentally agrees to a date with warwick and he’s over the moon but ciara is panicking because she can’t break his heart while arc’s pretending he isn’t jealous

A TRUTH SPELL EPISODE. sort of combining both of the two big threads this season. arc gets hit by a truth spell by accident and they have to wait for it to wear off and it leads to all sort of chaos as arc and ciara try to make sure their secrets don’t get out so ciara is just covering his mouth and trying to make excuses. and then, at the end of the episode, he’s alone with prudy and warwick who have caught on that arc does have a secret and they’re grilling him, and he blurts out that he has feelings for ciara, which even he didn’t realize until he said it. the spell finally wears off and prudy and warwick are shocked enough to let him go, and he runs off only to bump into ciara (who had been called away for a princess-related thing), and she’s apologizing to him for having to leave him alone and asks if he revealed anything important to anyone, and he’s just like “....no.”

midway through the season, we also begin building up to the next overarching plot. it might be interesting to focus a bit on astorian court politics, which leads to the reveal of an internal conspiracy to take down dragonbloods and take over the throne. (note: the leader of this conspiracy was the one behind ciara’s mother being taken away.) sort of leads to the realization of how messed up it is that only dragonbloods have power in astoria. the season finale has them facing off against this antagonist, and they win, but the antagonist runs away.

warwick and prudy find out about arc and ciara’s secrets at the end of the season!

also sage and buttercup are canon. because this is my plot outline and i say so.

season 3

this season begins with warwick and prudy learning what it means to be secret keepers, even though they’re struggling a bit. arc and ciara and understandably frustrated, but when it matters, warwick and prudy do come through, and they get better about it over time.

warwick and prudy are also trying to figure out their roles on the team, especially as they feel like they’re the weaker links. 

meanwhile, ciara is stepping into her role as the princess and trying to force actual change regarding the dragonblood laws in astoria, having learned from the events of last season.

arc is supporting her, but he’s also starting to feel a bit homesick. we get at least a couple episodes centered around seagate when phoenix squad takes a trip to his hometown which is in the process of rebuilding in the aftermath of ryker. they get caught up in a pirate plot!

they also discover that ryker’s army hasn’t entirely been dissolved, and some of them still hope to bring ryker back. 

arc and ciara starting to have some legit romantic development as they realize their feelings. throw in a fake dating episode because it would be cute. they also kiss at least once during this development period - for quest purposes of course, and it’s “completely platonic” (it isn’t, both feel things). both of them are too scared of ruining their relationship as friends to pursue more though, and they’re worried about how it would affect their team.

prudy and warwick do not think their squad will be affected and are very much rooting for this!!!

ciara also starts becoming friends with sage (although they would never admit it)! bonding as the princess, and respecting her more as a classmate. phoenix squad and kraken squad work together more often.

despite their attempts to prevent it, last season’s antagonist returns and helps bring ryker back. the villains team up, vowing to not just take over astoria, but destroy it. 

the season ends with astoria learning about the danger of ryker coming back and needing more knights, so phoenix squad, kraken squad, and unicorn squad are all knighted. ciara passes her laws against dragonbloods being the only ones allowed to be knights, and their secrets come out to the kingdom.

arc and ciara’s relationship development also reaches the natural conclusion and they officially become a couple after a scare during the final battle where they realize they could have lost each other.

season 4

season four shifts a bit in vibes because all the secrets are out and everyone has officially been knighted, so ideally we would have gotten some fancier new set locations

phoenix squad and kraken squad are officially knighted, but that doesn’t prevent their rivalry. however, this leads to issues, and they quickly realize they’re no longer in training and they genuinely need to have each other’s backs.

arc and ciara are also adjusting to working together while dating. they’re both really protective and keep trying to look out for each other on the battlefield, and it leads to some slip ups at first because they feel like they’re out of sync and maybe they worked better as friends. but they ultimately realize they help make each other better, and fighting together becomes even better because they’ll always have each other’s backs

we bring in the plot with ciara’s mom - eliza comes back with evidence that their mother is still alive and out there. phoenix squad follows up on the lead, and eventually they find her mother and bring her home. however, their mother doesn’t remember anything which is why she never came back even after she escaped her confinement, so they have to find a way to bring her memories back.

but is everything as it seems? ciara is unsure her mother is the same woman she remembers. she catches her mother sneaking out, and she worries that her mother has turned traitor. but it’s revealed that her mother is actually protecting a secret - a dragon egg, for the last dragon in astoria.

pet dragon for the squad!!! it imprints the most on ciara and sage, and they grudgingly co-parent. arc and buttercup are definitely not jealous of their partners spending so much time together (they absolutely are).

slobwick also hates the baby dragon for taking his place as beloved adorable pet. however slobwick is an evil furby and we should not feel bad for him.

fizzwick has begun training as a knight with his own squad! prudy and warwick end up teaching every now and then (as do the others at times, but this is mostly for them), and they are determined to be good role models. however, they have no idea how to keep up with the Kids These Days, and end up learning some things about valuing themselves and their own self-worth.

also, prudence and warwick do get their own romantic plots during this time! whether they stick around or are minor remains the question….

meanwhile, the ryker plot continues to develop, leading to some dramatic, escalating clashes. this time, ciara believes they need to work more with the other five kingdoms. we return to seagate, as well as visit other locations and have other kingdom representatives come to astoria for a summit meeting. there are lots of disagreements, and ends up one kingdom is working against them, their ruler being a puppet who is actually the astorian court official from season 2. at the end of the day, the remaining four realize they must unite to bring peace.

the series conclusion ends with a dramatic final battle working with the other squads and kingdoms as they take down ryker and the other antagonist once and for all, restoring peace. 

close out on phoenix squad, reaffirming their promise to always be there for each other and protect the kingdom as they look forward to the future.

#if anyone wants to discuss any of this PLEASE hit me up #knight squad #knight squad day #knight squad anniversary #arc #ciara #warwick #prudence #sage #buttercup #technically i guess this is some writing? #scrapped #shona

[fandomfriend]

Fanart for Doves and Arrows

So there’s this amazing Tf2 Bushmedicine fic called Doves and Arrows, by @anonymous-astronaut, and I decided to make a thing for it. Astro at one point put the title of his fic into an ai generator, which produced this image:

I got permission to turn it into a wall hanging, and have finished this after almost 3 weeks of work (front and back):

If anyone wants to see my explanation for choices I made or in progress photos I took, I’ll put them under the cut since I tend to ramble. Please go read Doves and arrows, it is fantastic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23886154/chapters/57423127

So, I started out by trying to make sense of the original ai image. I threw it into an art program and made 2 copies of it. One sticking closely to the original image, just cleaned up. The other changing some of the weirder shapes into something recognizable. I especially focused on including actual arrows into the second image.

I decided to use the second image, and put it into a site called Bracelet Book, in order to get a pattern to use. I did my best to make the pattern as symmetrical as I could on the first pass, but the dove was very difficult to work with. 

People looking closely may see that the final project looks a little different from the pattern. Especially the dove’s eyes and the fletching on the arrows. That’s because I would sometimes make on the fly decisions to alter parts of the pattern, since it’s pretty flexible like that. Most edits were done to make parts look more even or less cluttered (except for 2 specific changes). Here is the edited pattern I had by the end of all this. The edits are a little messy since most were drawn using my phone. :P

Once I had a pattern, I started working on making it. The kind of method I used is used for what’s called Alpha bracelet patterns. If anyone wants to know more, I recommend looking up tutorials by the youtuber Masha Knots, as she was the one I learned from. Here’s some progress photos, as you can see it’s a pretty messy looking process.

I changed the eyes and and arrow fletching colors for a specific reason actually. I wanted the eyes to be blue since the dove represents the BLU Medic, Josef. The arrows fletching then became red for the RED Sniper, Mick. I just felt like the plainer pattern wasn’t as clearly a Tf2 thing.

Once I finished off the pattern, I tied the strings I had been tying my knots on into little tassels. I sewed a black outline around the beak, since it didn’t stand out against the body as well as I hoped. I also decided to make a cover for the back. This is because, for anyone who doesn’t know, the back of an alpha pattern pretty much always looks like a disaster. It takes a lot of work to hide the mess, so I like to make fabric covers for it. I did neaten up the mess where I could before sewing on the cover though.

When I made the fabric backing, I originally just planned something simple and plain, but the only fabric I had was blue, which didn’t match the look of the piece. So I got the idea to paint it to lean into the red and blue theme, complete with the characters class symbols. I cut out the fabric, hand hemmed it as best I could, and painted it with some acrylic paints I had.

Then it was just a matter of sewing it on and adding a string for the wall hanging to hang from! This is the biggest project of this sort I have ever made, nearly twice the size of the second largest wall hanging I’ve done. It’s about 5 1/2 inches tall (not counting tassels), and 5 1/4 inches wide. If anyone is interested in making anything like this, I have some advice. One, always get way more string than you think you need. I got two bundles of each kind of thread I purchased, since I got some specifically to color match as best I could. By the end I had to make another run to Michaels for more green since what I had wasn’t enough. Also, try to keep your knots neat and evenly sized. Some parts of the pattern aren’t clear on the final project because the knots are hard to see.

If you actually read through this whole thing, I hope you have a good day!

#general post #Tf2 #bushmedicine #doves and arrows #this took me so long to make you have no Idea #It doesn't help that I am also trying to get my drivers license #so I literally finished this final test for an online driving course right before making this post #I'm very tired but very satisfied

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober 27 Soy Grilled Quail Eggs Clip Studio Paint, Gouache Brush, Gouache Blender, 12 colors, 1 hour. So apparently there are several ways to eat quail eggs in Japan. The raw yolk is a topping for some sushi, which I’ve drawn before, but apparently, you can just straight up stick them on a skewer, roast them, and then just eat those little toasty girls, shell and all. There’s also a slightly more labor intensive version of this that might be a little more palatable to a western audience for whom eating an egg shell is unthinkable (AKA, my picky ass.) You soft boil the little things, carefully pop them out of their shells, marinate them in some soy and other seasonings, skewer them, and toast them on a grill! I liked the look and idea of these MUCH better, so I drew these, even though the ones in the shell would be a bit more identifiable. My sleep schedule has gotten weird again, so I got this one done late, but hey, I’ll probably pop out another one for today before bed, so that should be fine. And if I don’t get to it, Eggtober is chill. No shame in posting a bit late. My only goal was 31 edible eggies to share with the world around the end of October. @quezify certainly won’t blame me for doing these as the whim strikes. Best and chilliest vibes. As ever, the biggest thanks to quezify for beautiful eggs to look at and a chill little art adventure. We’re nearly there and it’s been a blast the whole time. Honestly, even with my one bad day, October’s been the best month of the year for me. It’s hard to let things bother you when you manage to brush teeth and draw an egg every day. Even on days where I don’t do much else productive, I can at the very least say I’ve done self-care and made a good chunk of you all happy every day with an egg or two. Just having something to look at that you made with your own hands is good for the soul. Might even get some prints of these for myself just to have something nice to hang on my walls. I used to hang all my drawings I made when I was a kid on my walls and I haven’t had anything up since we painted. About time to change that, no? 😊

#Eggtober 2022 #Eggtober 27 #my art #quail eggs #roasted quail eggs #soy roasted quail eggs #I've had more productive days this month than usual too #it gets so much easier to write or draw after I've done an egg

[screadingchallenge]

Behind the Keyboard, Volume 34

Behind the Keyboard is a series of interviews with different Schitt’s Creek fanfic authors. The series will last as long as there is interest (from authors) and capacity (from me). If you are an author from the Schitt’s Creek fandom who would like to participate, send a DM to this account.  

Each author was given ten questions. The first five questions are the same for every author, the last five will vary.

Let’s meet our next author:

(Yes, it's me. I was strongly encouraged that I had to do this.)

@mostlyinthemorning / houdini74

How many fics have you written?

131 under my houdini74 name. 

When did you publish your first fic on AO3?

February 1, 2019

Describe your writing process from “Oh, I have an idea” to pushing publish on AO3. 

If it’s a short fic, I usually just start writing and hope I don’t get tangled up. For the long fics, I usually do what I call a ‘spark sheet’ which is throwing out all the ideas I want to put into the fic. This can be anything from bits of dialogue to scene descriptions to plot points. Then I take that mess and try to organize it into a rough outline. And then I start to write. As I go along, I’ll inevitably stir up new ideas that I want to incorporate, so those get dropped into the outline. Once I have a first draft, I do several rounds of edits. First, I go through and build out all the scenes wherever they need it - this usually adds 10-25% of my total word count. Then I do an edit to clean-up my word usage and tighten up the flow/even out the rough spots. Finally, I do a grammar check. Then I send it to my lovely betas and they catch more things. After that, I post it to AO3.

Tell me about your most recent fic? What do you love about it? Is there anything you think you could have done better?

My most recent fic is The Feelings Closet which is a meta-crossover fic where David and Noah have a conversation. I love that it’s different and a little bit weird (which is probably my brand). I might have built out the ending a bit more, but I’m happy with where it landed. 

What advice would you give to someone who’s thinking about publishing their fic for the first time?

Be brave. I often think that if the Schitt’s Creek fandom hadn’t been so small when I started that I might not have had the courage or the motivation to write anything, which would have been a huge loss of something that I love doing. So be brave! This is a great fandom to put yourself out there - it’s fairly small and it has the best, most supportive readers. 

Where do you get your ideas?

I get asked this a lot (which probably says something about the level of weird I’m involved in), and I don’t really have a good answer. I read a lot of magic/fantasy themed books, so I’m definitely drawn to ideas that are out of the ordinary, but really, there’s just part of my brain that wants to take normal things and make them different. I love things that are out of the box, and I definitely get a little happy boost if I can figure out how to twist an idea into something that’s never been done before. 

Tell me about a story that you wish you could write but that you’re not quite ready to tackle.

I really want to write a Miss Marple style murder mystery (or maybe magicky-Miss Marple???), but I haven’t had the headspace to plot it out in the way I’d like. Sebastien will be the victim, obviously. 

Is there someone(s) who has made your writing better? In what way?

I have to give a shout-out to @missgeevious who has been my beta since Sometimes Home is a Person, and who not only catches all of my misplaced commas, but is also the biggest cheerleader and idea-bouncer there is. She’s a star and my words would be worse without her. 

What is the favorite scene you’ve ever written?

This changes a lot, depending on what I’ve written recently, but one of my current favorites is the opening scene to Chapter 8 of my most recent long fic, No Mountain High, No Valley Low where David and Patrick are reunited. It’s a spin on canon (which I love doing), and it’s got some good feels and my favorite-ever characterization of Rachel.

What does a successful fic look like to you?

I wish I was pure enough to say that a successful fic is one that makes me happy. Which is true…to a point, because I love validation as much as the next person. So, a successful fic to me is one that tells the story I wanted to tell and that other people respond to. It shouldn’t shock anyone that I do track a lot of stats about my fics and look for certain benchmarks. No, I’m not going to say what they are. 

[aquadestinyswriting]

Filled with Clarity

Summary: Archlecor Kargun Vanskleig is in contemplation to work out how best to help the youngest member of his clergy.

Words: 609

Tags: @druidx, @asher-orion-writes, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @flashfictionfridayofficial, @blind-the-winds

Warnings: None.

Notes: This is set just before the council session in part seven of A Circle None Can Break and so is technically a part of it, but it's also part of the whole The Trouble with Meredith series, so I'm placing it there.

Kargun Vanskleig was not a man that was easily perturbed. However, when the High Priest came to him seeking guidance regarding an issue with one of his church’s youngest clerics, he had to admit that what he had been told was incredibly distressing.

The Archlector of Moradin steepled his fingers as he gazed into the molten metal bubbling away in the scrying pool of the contemplation chamber. He was almost nine centuries old and had seen many promising young clerics pass through the trials that Moradin sent to them. Most were relatively mundane; little things like the occasional crisis of faith, or to venture out far into the wider world to do His work elsewhere. He’d only ever seen two dwarves that had been clearly Marked for a much greater purpose in the time he’d spent working for his God- both when he was a much younger and fitter man- and now he needed to try to guide a third at the end of his twilight years. 

Vanskleig huffed a sigh, his old bones creaking as he shifted his position to make himself more comfortable and opened his mind and heart to the presence of his God. He smiled as he felt the comforting touch of Moradin on his shoulder,

“Some idea of what the lass has to face would be appreciated, ye ken.” he said, seemingly to thin air. “I can’t help out very much if I’ve no idea what’s coming.” The old dwarf felt the presence around him consider his words. Vanskleig knew very well that the Gods were rarely forthright about such requests, but if you don’t ask, you don’t get. He could work out what anything he was sent meant later. The Archlector felt his attention being drawn to the scrying pool, where the molten metal was now swirling and an image was taking shape in the centre of the whirlpool. Vanskleig’s eyes went wide as he took in the vision Moradin was granting him, his old heart breaking at the sight of it. 

“I’d rather been hoping ye’d be a bit gentler with this one.” he sighed, shaking his head as the vision ended and the pool returned to its resting state. He felt a pinch of regret near his heart,

I know, I’m sorry.

Vanskleig closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to shove the ancient memories that flashed into his head back into the recesses of his mind. There was no point in dwelling on his own past, not any more. Once the memories faded, he opened his eyes again and looked to the largest statue of Moradin, set against the far end of the scrying pool,

“I suppose I’d better go knock a bunch of heads together at this council session then.” he groused, “Ye ken, I’d been hoping that ye’d at least grant me a degree o’ peace in the few years I’ve got left.” he sniped, only half-glaring at the statue. 

I’ve been trying. This one isn’t me.

Vanskleig frowned,

“Who, then?” he asked. Vanskleig grumbled when he didn’t receive an answer, “Fine. I suppose I’ll find out eventually.” The ancient dwarf groaned as he pulled himself upright, leaning heavily on his staff to do so. Once he was up, Vanskleig bowed his head to the statue and shuffled to the entrance to the chamber. There was much work to be done if he hoped to give at least what little help he could to expedite matters, and precious little time in which to do it. At least now he had a clearer idea of what was coming and could put some contingencies in place if required.

#aquadestinyswriting #the trouble with meredith #titan fighting fantasy #writeblrcafe #flash fiction friday #ttrpg fiction #kargun vanskleig

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter seven

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: I know I’ve already said it but this fic is so self-indulgent that it’s hard to even formulate an actual plot. Oh well! I’m having fun and that’s all that matters! Also I definitely think Matt Murdock is extra sleepy grouchy in the mornings due to his late nights devilling. 

(side note: I just passed 80k words on this fic...I have no idea where all of those words came from) 

Series Masterlist

word count: 4608

He knew he was lying to himself, but he pretended he wasn’t.

He was in a lot of trouble, having her there, but there was nothing to do about it now.

Grace woke up slowly. She knew immediately that she had slept long and deep, muscles stiff in an almost luxurious way like she had been in bed for too long. 

Awareness seeped in as she dragged her heavy eyelids open. Warm sunlight poured through the windows across from the bed. She inhaled and stretched languorously, the silk sheets sliding across her skin like the touch of a lover. 

Grace jolted when she realized just how rested she was. That could only mean one thing–she was late for work. 

She scrambled for her phone, only to find that it was ten minutes before her alarm was set to go off. She frowned at the time. Apparently sleeping in a real bed had done her body wonders. 

She quickly got ready for the day, made the bed, and then tiptoed into the living room. Matt was already up, however, and setting a pot of coffee to brew. His hair was mussed, his t-shirt wrinkled, and he seemed to be operating with his eyes closed. 

Grace paused in the doorway, taken aback by how….cute Matt Murdock was first thing in the morning. 

“Good morning,” she said, grateful that he wasn’t aware that she had stared at him for a full minute. The coffee maker percolated cheerfully on the counter and the smell wrapped around them. 

Matt grunted and then yawned. “How’d you sleep?” he finally asked in a voice that was rough with exhaustion. 

“That was the best night of sleep I’ve ever gotten in my entire life,” she said truthfully as she made her way into the kitchen. Matt half-smiled, eyes still partially closed. “Any chance you made enough coffee for two?” 

“Of course,” he said, then reached to open a cabinet. There were four plain white coffee cups and one in the back in the shape of the Death Star. 

“Star Wars fan?” she asked as she grabbed one of the plain mugs. 

Matt’s brows drew together for a moment. “Oh. No, that was–Foggy said he wanted something fun for when he was over here, so he brought one of his own.” 

Grace laughed softly as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She and Matt moved at the same moment and bumped into each other. “Sorry,” she murmured with heat in her cheeks. One of his hands gently brushed her arm as if to steady himself, or maybe her. “I’ll–I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“It’s alright,” he said. His brown eyes were unerringly close to meeting hers. “I’d offer to walk you to the office, but Foggy and I are meeting with a potential client this morning first thing.” 

Grace ignored the pang of disappointment. “I’ll probably go ahead and get going then so I can get breakfast. Good luck.” 

She quickly gathered her things for the day while she finished her coffee. Matt seemed to be in no hurry, simply leaning back against the kitchen counter while he sipped from his mug. She quickly washed the cup and put it back in the cabinet. Matt was lost in his own world, hardly moving as she maneuvered around him. 

“See you later,” she said, the words feeling strange on her tongue, as she got ready to leave. She hefted her bag over one shoulder and let her gaze trail along Matt’s frame where he leaned. He was still in that tight shirt and the sweatpants. She could see how muscular he was, how fit. The tight shirt left little to the imagination. She forced her eyes away as he said a soft goodbye. 

He was still leaning against the counter as she left, his head tipped towards her as if he were listening to her go. 

Grace locked the door behind herself, keys jangling as she pocketed them.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but replay the morning over again. It was strange to live with an attractive man and not be dating him, she mused as she went to her new favorite breakfast place. She wondered if it was weird for Matt, too, though she didn’t think he found her attractive. 

Karen was already at the office when Grace arrived a little while later. 

“So,” Karen said as she hung up her jacket. “How was your first night at Chateau Murdock?” 

Grace laughed a little. “It was fine,” she said with a shrug. There was a big box waiting on her desk–her new computer. “Matt’s definitely not a morning person though. I caught him walking around with his eyes closed this morning. How was your night?” 

Karen gave a surprised laugh. “Yeah, I’ve always gotten the impression that mornings make him grumpy. And it was…weird.” 

As they got to work setting up the new computer, Karen launched into a hilarious story about Ellison roaming around in his robe late at night, muttering to himself as he looked at paper layouts and articles on a tablet. She had apparently startled him so bad he’d screamed like a girl and thrown said tablet into the air. 

Grace enjoyed Karen’s company, probably even more so without the other two there. She was quiet but not reserved, her mind sharp and her humor even sharper. 

They were still laughing and talking as Matt and Foggy returned from their client meeting, Karen’s office door open so they could talk freely from their own desks. 

“Great news, team!” Foggy announced loudly as he came inside. “My bride to be has sent an actual paying client our way and we have ourselves a nice, big case. And a nice, big paycheck, might I add.” 

“They saw our new website,” Matt said as he stopped before Grace’s desk. He lightly tapped her desk twice. “They said it looks great.” He gave her a slightly crooked grin. 

Grace flushed with pleasure. “Really?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it. She’d put a lot of work into the website and was still tinkering with it, but so far she was happy with how it was turning out. “It isn’t finished, but–”

“Grace, if I wasn’t already engaged, I’d kiss you,” Foggy said with his own grin. They all laughed. “I’ll admit, I didn’t look at the website until they mentioned it. But it looks great.” 

“Oh, God, Foggy’s in a kissing mood,” Karen said. She rolled her eyes and met Grace’s gaze. “Quick, we’ll barricade ourselves in my off–” She cut off with a shout as Foggy strode over to her and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“He just kissed her, didn’t he?” Matt said with a laugh. Grace was trying not to laugh but it was hard. Matt leaned against her desk and shook his head. “I’d tell you the website looks great, Grace, but I’ll have to take my colleague’s word for it.” 

“Actually–” Grace said as she straightened. “I’ve been looking into making it accessible for the blind and visually impaired. I could use a guinea pig at some point, if you don’t mind.” 

Matt dipped his chin and opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

“Really?” Foggy said, no longer trying to kiss Karen’s face. “That’s awesome!” 

“Great idea,” Karen added with a nod. 

“I don’t mind helping,” Matt finally said, voice soft. There was a note of emotion underneath the words. 

Grace felt that little sting of pride again. “Great. I still have a ways to go, but I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” 

The rest of the day was a blur as Grace split her time between figuring out her new desktop computer, working more on the website, and beginning to help prepare for the big case Matt and Foggy had secured. 

While she worked, she contemplated just how much of a difference a good night of sleep made. Even before sleeping in her car, she spent many nights awake and in fear. Since she was a deep sleeper, she’d never known if Dean would react badly to her sleeping later than him or falling asleep before him and not waking when he came to bed. His expectations had always changed rapidly along with his moods. And oftentimes, when he was angry about something, the mood lasted for hours, lingering beneath the surface of soft words and gentle apologies. Then he’d snap again over some small thing. So she would lie awake, wondering if he was going to hit her again, dreading it, anticipating it. 

But now that she was away from that she was so much more…settled. She’d slept deeply, all night long, for the first time in a while. And even when she switched to sleeping on Matt’s couch, she knew she’d still sleep deeply, comfortably. 

The four of them ended up eating dinner together at a small restaurant around the corner. Grace had been surprised to be invited, but pleased. She really did like hanging out with them, all of them, and liked how well they all got along. Even though the three of them had been friends for years, Grace never felt out of place. They always made sure to include her, to tell her the stories they were referencing, to make her feel like she belonged. 

She and Matt walked back to his apartment in companionable silence after dinner. She’d offered him her arm when they left, still uncertain about the etiquette for being around someone blind. 

His grip was strong and warm at her elbow. 

“You know,” Matt said as the building came into view. “You don’t have to feel obligated to hang out with us.” 

Grace’s heart stuttered. She glanced at him in surprise. “What?” she asked, because she wasn’t really sure she’d heard him right. Did they not want her to hang out with them? Was she only being invited as a courtesy, because they felt bad for her? 

“Me, Foggy, and Karen. You don’t–I feel like we’ve kind of been dragging you into things.” He looked a bit sheepish. 

“I…no, not at all. I like hanging out with you guys.” Her stomach sank. An odd, prickling sensation crawled across her skin. “Unless you don’t want me intruding. I know you’ve known each other for–” 

“No, no,” Matt said hurriedly. “That’s not it at all. I just didn’t–I didn’t want you to feel like you had to.” 

Grace’s face was hot. “Oh. Well, I like hanging out with you guys. You’re fun.” 

Matt flashed her a smile as they entered the apartment. “Good. I know Foggy has a…strong personality sometimes and can be a bit of a bulldozer when it comes to things.” 

Grace laughed. “That’s one way to put it. Trust me, though. I like you, all three of you. It’s been a while since I’ve been around people who were so…easy.” 

“Easy?” Matt repeated skeptically, brows raised behind his tinted glasses. 

“Yeah, easy. You guys are easy to get along with.” She shrugged, hoping he’d feel it since his hand was still on her elbow. “I feel like there aren’t any expectations when I’m around you.” 

“I’m glad,” he said softly. 

They parted ways in the living room. Matt went and changed while Grace made a shopping list on her phone of things she’d need to purchase, namely food. 

“All yours,” Matt said a few minutes later as he came out of the bathroom. He was in sweatpants and a tank top. 

Grace’s eyes widened when she took in his very muscular arms. Matt rubbed a hand absently over the back of his head. 

“Right,” she said, because she’d been staring. She cleared her throat. “I’ll shower.” 

She gathered her pajamas and bolted for the bathroom, embarrassed that she kept reacting to Matt like that. He’s attractive, she told herself firmly as she waited for the shower to heat up. So what? You live with him. Chill out. 

She showered quickly. She wanted to do more research on accessibility for the website before bed. 

Matt was on his way out with a duffel bag when she emerged from the steam of the bathroom. He paused when he heard the door open. 

“I was going to go to the gym,” he said, hefting the duffel bag that was in one hand. 

Grace perked up. “Maybe–Maybe I could come sometime?” she asked, thinking of those self defense classes. “I take self defense classes on the weekends, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere else to go during the week.” 

Matt winced slightly. “I…Don’t usually like people to be there. It’s–I have an arrangement with the owner to go after hours…” He trailed off. Even from across the room, she could see his blush, mirroring her own. 

Mentally, she kicked herself. She didn’t particularly like people watching her either, and she wasn’t blind. “Oh, that’s fine.” She almost winced at the palpable awkwardness in the air. “Have fun?” It came out like a question. 

Matt gave her a fake looking smile. “I’ll be back late.” 

“Night, then.” 

“Goodnight.” 

When he was gone, Grace groaned and put her head in her hands. Two awkward conversations in one night. She wanted to scream or hide or both. It really was like college all over again, two people who knew nothing about each other forced to live together. She hated the awkwardness. It was almost as if hanging out with Dean and Dean’s friends for so long had caused her to forget how to act around, well, anyone else. 

Grace pulled out her laptop and settled on the couch in order to get her mind off of the lingering embarrassment. She set to work researching accessibility options, trying out various ones on the Nelson, Murdock, and Page website until she found a few that would work well. 

A couple of hours passed, and her research turned into a search into Matt Murdock.. She read about his accident as a child, blinded saving an old man in a traffic accident, only to lose his father not too long after. 

The most prevalent articles were about Wilson Fisk and Frank Castle. She went down a bit of a rabbit hole looking through those and reading about the firm’s involvement with them. The articles about Frank Castle debated the pros and cons of vigilantes, when led to her clicking through to articles regarding Daredevil specifically. 

Then, somehow, she was watching old cell phone videos and grainy security footage of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He used to not have the armor or the horns, back when he was simply known as the “man in black” or the “man in the mask.” The devil moniker and the suit had come later.  

Grace had watched a lot of the same videos of Daredevil after he’d saved her. She had read a lot of the same articles and information and forums, too. But she found herself going over it again, the curiosity still burning bright within her. 

She kept reading as she got ready for bed and then shifted from her laptop to her phone so she could lay down on the couch as she grew more and more tired. 

She slipped into sleep with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on her mind and dreamed of smoke and shadows with horns. 

–

Grace woke the next morning in Matt’s bed. 

She startled awake, sitting up in one fluid movement. Hadn’t she been on the couch? She blinked blearily at the room around her before realizing that her alarm had woken her. She smacked her phone to turn it off and rubbed at her face to try and dispel some of the cobwebs in her brain. 

She vaguely remembered Matt shaking her awake and then…nothing. 

Grace swung her feet over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment trying to remember if she’d walked to the bed or if Matt had carried her. But why would he have carried her? 

She yawned hugely and decided that any more thinking could wait until she’d been caffeinated. She brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back and dressed for the day before going out into the living room. There was no evidence the couch had been slept on at all. Her laptop was still on the coffee table where she’d left it. 

Matt was in the kitchen, already in his suit, tying his tie. 

“How and why did I end up in the bed again last night?” Grace asked as she greedily made a  grab for the coffee pot. 

Matt tilted his head towards her. “You don’t remember me waking you up?” 

Grace frowned. The vague memory resurfaced. Matt’s hair had been damp with sweat, or maybe from a shower. “I…no, not really.” 

“You weren’t kidding about being a deep sleeper,” he said with that disarming smile of his. 

Grace glared at him over the mug as she sipped the too-hot coffee. She didn’t even care that it burned a bit. “Again, how and why?” 

Matt shrugged and slipped his suit jacket on. “I told you I was taking the couch. I got you awake enough to help you to the bed.”

“Matt, I told you I’d sleep on the couch. I was already asleep on the couch, why didn’t you just take the bed?” She crossed her legs and widened her stance. 

Matt set his jaw. “You’re my guest,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch from here on out. Besides, I got in late–I wouldn’t have woken you up if you’d been in the bedroom.” 

Grace threw up her hands. “There’s no point in arguing with a lawyer, is there?” 

A crack in the stubbornness as he smiled. “Nope.” 

She pointed a stern finger at him even though he couldn’t see it. “Watch it, Murdock. Pink shirts.” 

Matt laughed, and the tension around them eased. The argument was far from over–Grace would make sure Matt let her sleep on the couch if it was the last thing she did. But it was time to go to work. 

As they walked to the office, Grace thought about various arguments that would change his mind. Or maybe she could simply figure out how to lock him in the bedroom until he went to sleep while she took the couch. 

Grace’s phone went off with the chime she’d set for Google alerts right as they got to the firm. 

She glanced at the headline and jerked to a halt. 

Harold Spencer found dead in Hudson River near Hell’s Kitchen. 

Grace’s hands shook as the scent of blood filled her nose, the sounds of creaking metal doors and the rattling of chains echoing in her ears. 

“Grace?” Matt asked as if from very far away. “Are you alright?” 

She blinked and mentally shook herself. “Yeah I just–someone I used to know was found dead, is all.” 

Not technically a lie. Harry Spencer had gone to college with her and Dean and their circle of friends. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said softly. “Do you need to…go?” 

She shook her head vehemently. “No, it’s–I haven’t seen him in a long time.” Another half-truth. 

Matt reached out and his fingers brushed her forearm. He patted her. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

Grace forced herself to focus on work and work only for the rest of the day. She emailed Foggy, Matt, and Karen about lists of accessibility things they could add to the website, scheduled a couple of appointments, and started working through some paperwork for their newest case. 

Her concentration was so single minded that she didn’t notice it was time to leave. 

“I’ll catch up,” she said to Matt, who was hovering near her desk. “I need to finish a couple of things.” 

The other three bid her goodnight. 

The moment the door closed behind them, Grace pulled up the news on her computer. 

She clicked the breaking news article. 

Harold Spencer, 27, was found dead early this morning in the Hudson River near Hell’s Kitchen. Details are limited at this time. No statement has been released by the police or the family of the deceased. Spencer supposedly went missing after failing to return from a business trip six months ago. 

Grace’s breath caught again. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the cool wood of her desk. 

“Fuck,” she whispered. 

She looked up every article related to Harry Spencer that she could get her hands on. None of them had any other details. His body had been found–that was the extent of the information. Some websites even claimed that he hadn’t been missing, since his family had never formally filed. 

She clicked out of the windows and gathered her things. It was later than she thought.

She knew that she should tell someone what she knew, or at least what she had pieced together. But that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? Dean Bennett was too powerful. No one would believe her. Not a single person. 

Maybe Matt, Foggy, and Karen would, a small, hopeful voice whispered in her mind. She shook the thoughts away. She was already relying too much on their charitable hearts, especially Matt. She couldn’t ask them to believe the impossible of her, the unprovable, something that would bring at the very least bad press to their firm but most likely ruin. 

Grace bit her lip as she stalked to Matt’s apartment. 

She’d left Dean for a reason. She wasn’t going to look back, not anymore. She was working a job she liked with people she thought could become good friends, and she didn’t care about Dean Bennett and the things he may or may not have done anymore. 

To further occupy herself, she stopped at a grocery store to stock up on food. Even if she had to live off of cereal and instant ramen, she would save money for a place of her own. 

Maybe she could sell her car, she thought as she lugged the heavy bags back to the apartment. Having a car in New York was more trouble than it was worth. She’d barely used it in the past week other than as a bed. 

Matt was nowhere to be found when she let herself into the apartment. It was just as well, because she was spiraling so much that she knew she’d probably get on his nerves. She put all of her groceries away, showered, then spent another hour eating cereal and reading more news articles and scouring social media for more information. 

She started pacing as she read some posts on her phone, her laptop battery dead from her obsession first with Daredevil and then with Harry Spencer. 

A picture she recognized was being circulated around social media. Young, handsome Harry in his Cornell sweatshirt, the picture splashed everywhere. But on a certain social media site, the full picture was posted, revealing a second figure. 

Grace dropped her phone as if it had burned her. 

No wonder the photo was familiar. 

She had taken it. 

She sank onto the couch and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

From the floor, Dean and Harry smiled up at her, arms around each other in matching Cornell sweatshirts. 

Grace fumbled for her phone and closed the app. 

She started pacing again. The room was suddenly too hot, too small, too much. 

She grabbed her keys and went up the stairs to the roof. 

Cold air hit her in the face. She shivered as the sweat on her body cooled. It wasn’t too cold yet, summer giving one last dying gasp before the autumn frost came. 

Grace inhaled greedy gulps of air to calm herself. 

She needed to forget Dean. To forget Harry. To forget her entire life up until the past week. None of it mattered anymore. She was starting over and there was absolutely nothing she could do to change anything except her own circumstances. The only thing she could change was herself and her own situation, so she needed to focus on that. Nothing else.

“Goddammit,” she muttered as she started pacing around the small rooftop area. 

There was a soft scrape somewhere behind her. Like a shoe against the asphalt.  

Grace whirled. 

There was a shadow standing there, watching her. 

She opened her mouth to scream but the shadow stepped into the light. 

Daredevil.

She immediately relaxed. “Oh,” she said a bit breathlessly. Her heart started pounding for an entirely different reason. She pressed her palm against her chest to calm the racing of her heart. “It’s you. You probably don’t remember me–” 

“Of course I remember you,” he said in a low voice. She had to strain to hear him over the noise of the traffic and other city noises below them. 

Grace stared at him a moment, stunned that he had remembered her. “What are you…doing here?” she asked when she recovered. She crossed her arms, aware of her flimsy pajamas and lack of a bra. 

He spread his hands. “The rooftops are kind of my thing.” A hint of a smile. He kept his voice low, almost too quiet. “Besides, I could ask you the same question.” 

“Right, yeah. The whole vigilante thing.” She shifted and glanced away. “I was just…clearing my head.”  

“You should be careful,” he said. The low timbre of his voice made her shiver. It made her think of the shadows wrapping around him, ready to swallow him up at a moment’s notice. It made her think of bruised knuckles and blood. 

“My friend is downstairs,” she lied. “I’m just staying here for a few nights.” She didn’t know why she lied to him. It came naturally, not to give too much of herself away to a stranger. 

Daredevil hummed. He still hadn’t moved. His hands hung loosely at his sides. 

She took the moment to study him in the low light. Now that she wasn’t afraid for her life or suffering a head wound like she had been the last time they’d met, she could take him in. The tight suit revealed a muscular frame, built solidly even though he wasn’t incredibly tall. The line of his jaw was sharp. She couldn’t tell if it was another shadow or a shadow of stubble that shaded it. She stared into the glass eyes of his mask. He tilted his head slightly and the eyes glinted red, making her shiver all over again. 

“You should go inside, it’s cold,” he said after a moment. She wondered if he had been studying her like she’d been studying him. 

“Do you–want a drink or something? A snack?” she blurted. She didn’t want to leave, not when he was so close. She might have developed a slight obsession with him after he’d saved her but–who wouldn’t? Half of Hell’s Kitchen was obsessed with him, based on what she could tell from her internet sleuthing. 

That head tilt again. “No thank you.” Again she could barely hear him over the noise of the city around them. He seemed puzzled by her offer. 

“I just–I figure being a vigilante is hard and you might need some water or a granola bar or something.” 

A sudden grin, the flash of teeth in the low light almost predatory. “I’m alright, I promise.” 

She shrugged and bit back a nervous laugh. “I just want to thank you somehow,” she finally said. Her voice quieted even as her face heated. “If you hadn’t been there–” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice growing even deeper. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides again. “Goodnight, Grace.” 

“Goodnight,” she said with a small smile and wave before she ducked back inside. 

She pressed her back against the door after locking it and bit back another smile. 

But she didn’t question how the devil of Hell’s Kitchen had come to know her name.

Next Chapter 

taglist: 

@zaminoo​​ @yanna-banana​​ @bellal1 @thetrinitytest​​ @harry-bowie-mercury​

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x original female character #matt murdock #matt murdock x original character #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #daredevil x original female character #daredevil x original character #daredevil #netflix daredevil #saved #saved fic #saved daredevil

[rainbowchewynuggets]

Okay, change of plans.

Despite my best laid plans, my intentions to produce that Hellboy comic through October are turning out to be more unrealistic than they were before I moved. Unforeseen circumstances are going to reduce the amount of free time I have in the near future (thanks, Ian), and I straight up overestimated how quickly I’d be able to draw each page. Which happens a lot.

See, there’s kind of a bigger problem here. I routinely find myself getting excited about making a comic project, writing it all out, and then burning out repeatedly as I draw it. For the longest time, I thought that was just what it took to draw that many cool pictures on one page. It wasn’t until I started living with a friend from college that I realized there was a problem. Or, he realized it first. He’s astonishingly good at clocking me through my stubborn bullshit lol. He said that maybe I constantly burn out because I’m using 100% of my artistic capacity 100% of the time. Which sounds ideal on paper. I’m making the very best art that I can. But it’s completely unsustainable because, uh… I’m a human with limits, as I constantly forget. And comics take a lot of stamina.

Because I don’t understand comics. I read comics all the time growing up, but I didn’t draw like them. I learned to draw from making fine art pieces in school. I drew with realism and life drawing as the core of my practice because that’s what my dad had been taught back when he aspired to be an animator at Disney, and that’s what he taught me. The only thing that ever impressed art teachers and classmates was how accurately I could draw a face or a vase or a landscape. So I did that as well as I could.

Now, I should be clear here. Realism absolutely has a place in comics. Some of the most beautiful and intelligent pieces of work I’ve ever read had clear roots in realism. Life drawing is a sensible basis for any kind of representational art, in my opinion. Sequential art that’s just a series of fully-rendered paintings astound and enchant me.

It’s just that I think that level of detail and accuracy just isn’t right for me. Partly because my writing style is also super extra. I have big spiraling ideas that take a lot of time and pages to execute. My writing is actually just now reaching a point where I can whittle it down to reasonable finished scripts that I can draw with (which might be why I never realized this art problem before). And sooner or later, my brain wanders off onto something else. So being stuck with these big projects that are so exhausting to execute leads to a kaleidoscopic labyrinth of “break” projects that are supposed to be easier. They never are. Because my brain doesn’t know how to do “easier”. Like anything, I think “easier” will take practice. Study.

My plan, therefore, is to study an easier style to keep in my toolbox. Something fun and shape-based that lets me lean on the forms of abstraction and simplification that I already use in my current dominant style. Mostly, I’m looking at Scott Campbell (lead art director of Psychonauts 1) right now. And I’m gonna try working with some brushes that won’t leave me agonizing over line weight. If this works, it might give me more time to think about color dynamics, lighting, staging, and expression (since you guys seem to love that so much in TMA Encore; I love it too).

What does this mean for Hellboy and Encore, then? I think the best thing to do for Hellboy is post the pages I finished before I moved and release the remaining script in text form through October. It’s not as good as having the whole thing drawn, but I think having initial pages will at least help readers visualize the rest. (And I’d really like people to be able to experience the whole thing because I feel like it’s some of the best writing I’ve ever done.) Then, starting in November, I want to get Encore wrapped up. This will take the form of a kind of… hybrid media presentation. Encore has no complete script, but I can write a dramatic summary of what happens chapter by chapter, accompanied by drawn panels and sequences of important moments. Like a picture book. That kinda fits the dark academia vibe.

Following that, I’m going to use that Psychonauts fanfic I mentioned months ago as a study tool. I have a whole side blog for that (link), but I might crosspost them here when the time comes. And from there, hopefully, I’ll have a sustainable work ethic and can start on my own original projects. With videos. And patreon!

It’s a big weird shift all of a sudden, I know. This may just be another art blog on tumblr, but it’s important for me to try to be consistent and accountable when I make projects. And if I can’t do that, I at least want to be transparent. (Who knows–talking about this might help someone else who’s struggling, too.) I have kind of a rare opportunity in my life to sit and focus on art right now, and I don’t know when another will come again, if ever. So I want to use the limited time I have to improve and position myself for success (and wellness) going forward.

I hope you understand. But I have a feeling you will. You guys are real nice. :)

Thanks for reading.

#update #tma encore #hellboy and the gatekeeper #attack of the flayer #<3

[mishwanders]

Chapter Fifteen {Saint}: Good People

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x GN!Disabled Reader

Summary: Time to have a little chat about what comes next.

Warnings: mention of Saint MC and Heisenberg getting drunk, some religious talk

Read On AO3 { X }

You awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, drumming to the rhythm of the factory below. You had stayed the past night in Heisenberg’s factory, preferring his drunken company over that of Mother Miranda for the evening. You were deep in your sorrows over everything you had learned about the woman, about what she had done to others, how she had lied to you and everyone else. Your emotions were already running high, on edge after your argument with him, that you truly just wanted to drown everything out, even if it was only for a night. Hell, in the midst of it all, Heisenberg confessed his feelings, and that was enough to make any person need a drink.

You gingerly sat up from your spot on the bed, removing the sleep from your eyes as you took in the room. It was rather bare considering the state of the rest of the factory you had seen, save for an armoire and a desk. You could see that your new cane was resting against the desk, close at hand, and the fact that you were still in your clothes from the day before, all except for your shoes which were placed next to your cane.

You moved your hand to the spot beside you, finding that the spot Heiseneberg had slept in was cold and empty. You couldn’t help but wonder where he had wandered off too, but you had an idea considering there was a smell of coffee in the air. You slid over to the side of the bed, grabbing your shoes and sliding them on before taking hold of your cane and gingerly standing up from the bed, making your way out of the room and down the hall. You followed the smell of coffee all the way to what you assumed used to be the old break room from years prior when it was run by more than just one person. You stood in the doorway, finding Heisenberg with his back turned towards you, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He immediately noticed your presence behind him and turned his head, holding up the pot in your view.

“Want some?” He asked

“That would be great.” You replied

You walked across the room, settling down onto an old and ragged red chair at the faded yellow table that was closest to him. You took a quick glance around the room as he grabbed you a mug, seeing the broken red tiled floors, the faded gray walls with metal patches throughout. Your attention was quickly drawn away from it all though, settling on the hot coffee that was placed before, Heisenberg sitting opposite of you.

You thanked him for the drink and brought the cup to your lips. It was stronger than anything you had ever tasted in the village, bitter even. You made your best attempt not to grimace from it before settling the mug down, keeping it in your hands to provide you some warmth in the cold room. The two of you sat there in silence together, unsure of where to even begin after the fiasco that was the events of yesterday. But if there was one thing that you had noticed is that the tension that once hung between you two was no more, finding yourself growing more relaxed by his presence. If only your mind would slow down and enjoy the moment for what it was…

“So I’ve been thinking.” You began, gently shuffling your weight in the chair. “After everything that's, well, happened, I don’t think I can go back to Mother Miranda yet. Not until I’ve figured out my next move.”

“You can stay here for as long as you need.” Heisenberg replied, “I’m not going to throw you back into her teeth. Hell, I’d say you could stay here forever and never go back, but we both know she would find that suspicious.”

“She’d break down your door.”

“Not unless I broke hers first.” He chuckled

You took another sip of your drink, this time grimacing at the flavor you momentarily had forgotten about, but allow the warmth of it to flood your system before continuing.

“I just - I need to get my head completely wrapped around all of it. I know Mother Miranda isn’t who she says she is and is using the black god for her own means. But - I still think it’s real.” You explained, “Something happened when I was in the cave last night.”

“Like what?” He asked

“I asked it to prove itself to me and it showed me something, or rather, it’s been showing me something I never understood until now.”

Heisenberg looked at you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

You looked around the room, almost as if you were afraid someone else would overhear your conversation. You leaned forward on the table and continued.

“Do you remember when we were kids and I used to always talk about the mold monster?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked the black god if it was really what I believed it to be, then to show me, and it showed me the mold monster. But the thing is, it isn’t a monster Heis - it’s me.” You explained, your voice almost at a whisper now.

“The thing that I’ve been seeing since I was a kid, has been me the whole time. I never understood why it was following me, but when the mold showed it to me again in the cave, I couldn't help but feel like it meant something.”

Heisenberg sat back in his chair, taking another swig of coffee. You knew he was mulling over your words, trying to piece it together or find a way to disprove the black gods reality.

“Are you sure it’s not manipulating you like Donna does with her flowers? Have you ever ingested any of the mold?” He asked

You shook your head.

“No - No I don’t think so.”

There was another moment of silence between you two before he finally came to a decision.

“If you continue to see the mold monster again, let me know. If it’s the mold manipulating you, I have my ways of finding out.”

You nodded, feeling the relief of knowing that he didn’t see you as crazy, that he was actually taking this seriously.

“What are your plans now - with the manuscript, I mean?” Heisenberg asked

“I’m going to keep writing it, make it exactly how it should be. After that… I’m burning it.” You replied

Heisenberg looked at you in surprise. But that shocked face quickly became a smile, realizing your reasoning behind it.

“If it burns, she can’t use my words to harm anyone else in this village.” You explained, “So yes, I’m going to complete it, but as soon as it's done, it’s all going up in flames.”

“You know how dangerous of a game you’ll be playing. She’s not going to take that lightly.” He replied

“I know, but I can make it appear as if it wasn’t on purpose.” You said, “Besides, it’s going to be devastating for both of us. I’ve worked so hard on this, wanted to make it everything it could be, just to destroy it? I thought I was called to do this and to watch it turn into ashes before my very own eyes - it just - it feels like a knife to the chest.”

“Are you sure you can even go through with it?” He asked

“I have to. I have no other choice.” You replied.

Heisenberg nodded.

“Well, if you need my help, need the backup - I’ll always be here.” He reassured, reaching out for your hand.

You allowed him to take hold of yours, holding him tightly in your grasp. His hand was warm and comforting in the cold room. If you were honest with yourself, the emotional wound that had developed from all of this was still incredibly painful. The world you thought you knew had collapsed around you, faith in the things you were once steadfast in now shaken and broken. The only things you were really sure about in this moment were the vision the black god had shown you and the fact that you and Heisenberg were now in this together for good.

Whether that be better or for worse, only time would tell.

But you felt optimistic about it at least. The drunken night before had led to a lot of discussion between you two, a lot of openness that you weren’t expecting, slowly beginning the process of mending the relationship that you so desperately craved from him once again. He never once hated you for any of your choices, on the contrary he cared so much more than he could bear at times. You found that the two of you were not so different in that sense.

The feelings you had for each other had been there for a long time, sitting there like kindling waiting to be burned, waiting on someone to act first. But now that everything had been thrown out into the open - it was like someone threw gasoline on the pile and tossed a match - burning brighter than you could have imagined. And now? Now it was lighting a way to a new path for you both to take, if only you were willing to take it together.

You looked back up at him, into his eyes. There was always a charm about them, one that always had a way of pulling you in, making you feel like you were in safe company. You had guessed that this was why you always found yourself looking up to him, but you knew it was so much more than that, that there was something deeper involved.

He was not your entire world, but he meant more to you than he would ever know.

Chapter Fourteen: If the World Falls To Pieces

Chapter Sixteen: Glitter & Gold

#resident evil fic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #karl heisenberg #our moral decay #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #series: our moral decay

[bvannn]

Weekly Update January 5, 2024

I’m still recovering slowly. I never mentioned this because I want to be as vague as I can about my big congenital medical issue, but the surgery last week removed some tissue that affects my endocrine system, and now that it’s gone I’m having some problems with my mood. I have a medicine that corrects it, but I need to wait another week and a half to get my dosage adjusted, so all next week I’m going to be volatile which sucks. Stomach has seemingly gotten better though so hopefully that pain was just caused by those cysts and nothing else was wrong. Sorry if I ramble on a bit too much tonight, I am loopy because of the endocrine stuff so I might go on too long. Anyway artstuffs.

I got a music project done. It was for Mav, and it was pretty small but I stayed up all night working on it. Working on it I discovered a big set of plugins that I got somewhere that look to be automatically doing some of that balancing I was worried about. I still need to double check what exactly it can do, since I’d like a widener plugin, but I don’t want to stack my brain over it if I already have one. I have a few ideas floating around for the next song thing, I’m a bit hesitant on continuing that vocal one I haven’t finished because I watched a bunch of videos today in the bad lyrics of the Wish soundtrack, and the lady kept bringing up cadence and pentameter which are concepts I know about but can’t hear. Like, pentameter is supposed to be the natural inflection a syllable has, but like whenever I hear it, I just hear the inflection of the vocalist. I think I’m overthinking it, since she used a writing scheme to explain it and I think the vocaloid software uses that same writing scheme so maybe I can learn through practice? Or I can just write lyrics that match the melody and call it good as long as the flow sounds natural because of subconscious understanding, like how I figured out how to do harmonies. Whatever. Music theory is hard but my stupid will and brute force is harder.

Other instrumental things I’ve been kinda thinking about include a little Zelda medley that I already recorded the melodies and stuff for, instrumental themes for my OCs because of course. And then I kinda want to just do a big fat medley that goes on for like an hour-ish because I love those kinds of medleys they’re great for car rides and stuff. And the final two I’m thinking about would be for animation memes: either an arcade beat-em-up style boss fight sounding theme, or a cover of a 90s pop-punk-rock (idk what genre) song. I think that one would be cool because I could use it as promotional stuff for a comic.

Oh yeah that O’Malley comic! I actually did good thumbnail work on that this week! I was going to do more today but mood and sleep schedule were wonky, plus I had a meeting this morning, so good chance I’ll put it off until tomorrow. But either way, chipping away at it, trying to watch more movies so I can get better at understanding shot comp, watched Kill Bill part 1 last night and wasn’t expecting it to be like, the best fucking movie ever? Like why does everyone talk about it like ‘eh it’s pretty good’ like no that shit was *Phenomenal*! Hoping part 2 lives up to the first, planning to watch it maybe tomorrow night? Definitely before I go back to uni. Anyway pitch comic is coming along nice, after it’s drawn I can either work on the rest of that story or a pitch for the secondary story I’ve been working on, depending on demand. Right now leaning towards series, since I have general synopsies for a couple more general ‘episodes’.

Also only done like one general drawing for comsheet practice hehehe it’s fine I can try others as time comes and is appropriate. Also did epithet stuff but not as much as I’d like. My original plan tonight was to work on TTRPG stuff but maybe I’ll do writing or thumbnailing instead. Or maybe both.

TRGA: got shot 1-4 done enough. Also got Jon tweened for 1-5. I need to clean him up and do his face and stuff. Tonight maybe if I’m having trouble focusing on the other stuff I’ll clean him up, I think I want to go back to that ‘one significant development a day’ schedule I was on for a bit, but pushed a bit further since I have better strategies now. I’ve also started the ‘every time I sit down and open clip studio I’m going to draw one (1) prop’ strategy so hopefully props won’t be as bad in the future either (even the ones I can’t just recycle). Tomorrow if I’m doing better I’ll try to get 1-5 Jon’s face done (and clean him up too if I don’t tonight) and maybe do another drawing. Maybe more epithet TTRPG stuff maybe not.

I’m trying to get my priorities back in order. 1) TRGA 2) Comic work 3) fix your commissions 4) other projects. Inspiration is fickle though so I’m really all over the place. My mood being volatilized is also not helping but I’ll keep going until my brain explodes. For now I’m able to plan out enough with time for sleep and stuff. I don’t know what’s exactly going to happen when classes start but I am taking *fewer* credits than normal so theoretically that means more time.

#weekly update

[propilyano-prostranstvo]

planned parenthood saved my life. i’m going to say that again, because this is not exaggeration, planned parenthood saved my life.

i went in for an abortion. i was reading all the risks over and over again, but they assured me i’d be okay. i decided to have the pill version because i didn’t have anyone to drive me after the surgery. i go behind the doors and they treat me very well, like a friend i’ve had for decades.

then, my nurse suddenly got very quiet. “oh shit,” i think, “there’s something wrong.” i thought maybe it was a false positive and i‘d wasted valuable time. they can’t find a fetus in my uterus. they grab some of my blood, and i’ve never been good at getting blood drawn so i almost pass out.

my hormones are showing a positive pregnancy. they say that best case scenario, i‘m miscarrying. “i’ve done that before, i can do that again. it’s just a really bad period.” i think to myself, knowing full well it’s rough on my body but hey, it’s okay. i’ve done it before. but worse case, i have an ectopic pregnancy. i’d only just heard about an ectopic pregnancy through google searches and had zero idea what it entailed besides the fact that it was a medical emergency.

they recommend two things: going to the emergency room or going through with the abortion even though it might not even work. i decide to go the emergency room purely out of a gut feeling.

at the er it was concluded that i had an ectopic pregnancy. i was alone, knew no one around me longer than a couple months, and if you know me i don’t open up emotionally to people unless i’ve known them for years so it may as well have been a day, and i was across the country from anyone and anything i’d ever known. during a pandemic that was still budding.

the hospital staff was very nice, but put a very high emphasis on the fetus. reminding me that it wasn’t viable, but that surgery would be invasive and that i could take the low-dose chemotherapy immunosuppressant shot (methotrexate). i took the shot because anesthesia scared me.

a few days later, my left fallopian tube ruptured. i can’t really remember the pain, the brain is funny that way. it forgets for your own sake. i just remember knowing it wasn’t normal because i have a high pain tolerance and i was sobbing and couldn’t stand on my own. i knew i couldn’t drive to the er so i called an ambulance, and i even walked down the stairs of my apartment. that’s when things got… bad.

once i was out of survival mode and could focus on the pain, i was screaming the answers to the questions the emts were asking in the ambulance. i don’t remember anything between the ambulance and getting told i‘d need surgery or i‘d die from internal bleeding. it was time to face a major fear of mine, and i had to do it alone.

i owe my life to planned parenthood, the medical professionals that conducted my surgery, and roe v wade. without which, i’d be dead.

#planned parenthood #ectopic pregnancy #roe v wade #roe versus wade #pro choice #feminism #abortion #diary entry