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itsgrimeytime · 1 month

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Magnolia in May (Part Thirty Four) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21-30, 31, 32, 33...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker @misatmosfear @crazyunsexycool

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: crying.

[[A/N: Self-reflection and banter incoming !!! Thanks for reading !!! ]]

You were standing remarkably still, as Headmistress and the seamstress guided the fabric onto your figure. It was a smooth sort of fabric, but it felt familiar. It wasn't any sort of new, not really. Maybe a bit more fancy than you were used to, but at its core it was the same as your other dresses. Puffy sleeves (maybe a little puffier than you were used to) and falling just under your chest. It wasn't as though you didn't like it, though.

Actually, every time you'd looked in the mirror, you couldn't help but cry. Ruining a few handkerchiefs, the seamstress caught onto it fairly quickly and faced you in the opposite direction while she made whatever adjustments. Today, however, was the final fitting -it was made, and you were just to see if there were to be any final touches.

As it was laced up behind you, you were facing the mirror -Headmistress standing just beside you, looking.

Your eyes caught on yourself for a moment, swimming over your unkempt hair (you hadn't much time, to be fair) before falling to your dress. Your wedding dress.

Something in your throat stuck, as you took a deep breath -hands coming to your sides, you pinched the fabric of your skirt between your fingers. It was a soft fabric, perhaps a thin layer on top -you pulled it forward ever-so-slightly and watched how it swished. It was to look like that when you walked. You had the thought, that's how Mr. Grimes would see it first, as you walked.

Your hands then went to just above your waist, fingers dusting over the lace there. It wasn't anything too complicated, but it was still lace.

Staring, you looked rather endlessly.

You felt your younger self, then, when you dreamed of such things. You used to doodle dress ideas, and the giggles with your sisters of just who you would marry. And the consequent years of waiting.

You remember the day you were of age, the Headmistress had dressed you and taken you out, for tea, you believed. She'd been so eager to see who would look, who would be interested. The party was rather disappointing (though you enjoyed yourself) filled with older and married men.

Headmistress hadn't given up then, she'd continued. As years passed, she only became more desperate -more willing to bring you everywhere. Before you knew it, Maggie was of age. And although you were quite sure she'd never leave you alone on such a matter, you fell behind just a little.

Each year after that one felt like a century.

Friends would come and go, you attended their weddings and watched them as they left Alexandria for a better life. At a certain point, a lady can't help but feel hopeless. You suppose that's why you'd succumbed to the idea of marrying loveless for your family; it wouldn't be happy, but they'd survive if, god forbid, your Father ever became ill.

You weren't sure when, but eventually, you simply stopped looking. Headmistress was the pioneer, introducing you to all kinds of people; the issue was that Alexandria did not have many visitors at all. It was a town to settle in, not one of courting.

At least, that's what Headmistress told you.

Your mind often resorted to sadder alternatives; it only made sense in such a fragile state, you'd assume the worst. That perhaps it was you who was unmarriable.

You never voiced those thoughts, not even to your sisters. They remained rather safe in old journals -hidden among the pages. Instead, you just continued to live. You read books, you danced at balls, you laughed with your sisters, and ate family dinners. You didn't look, but that didn't stop the little flicker in your heart.

You were just simply at the stage where you had worn out trying. So, you waited.

As if one day, perhaps, a man would drop into your hands -a handsome one, you'd hoped. And despite that idea being quite unfathomable, nor realistic, you'd held onto it. So, you weren't hopeless, not really; you had plenty of hope -it was just hung upon rather impossible odds.

But then, it had happened.

On an inexplicably normal day, doing something you'd done every morning, you'd met a man.

And as you stood here, you realized that you truly had. You had found him, and he had perhaps been the kindest man you'd ever known.

You'd been rather struck by his presence, you weren't sure if it was his appearance or if it was his blatant love for his daughter, or maybe even the way he looked at you-

That was the thing, the way he'd looked at you was something not of introductions. Maybe out of gratefulness, but there was something else there. As if he'd rather been taken by your presence, maybe by the way you spoke, or the way you'd immediately cared for Judith. Something in him had the very same reaction, you wondered how often such a thing would happen.

If it even did.

You must of a worryingly sort of quiet, because-

"All I ask, ma'am," the seamstress (you believe her name to be Cythnia, she didn't speak much) addressed you, "-is don't cry upon the fabric. It is quite hard to get stains out.

You laughed a little, and it was a bit weepy. God, how you loved him so.

Headmistress was almost immediately at your side, rubbing her fingers along your shoulders. Before seeming to remember something, she scurried off to a dresser by the door -looking for something.

She seemed to find it then, and returned to your side -extending forward a handkerchief. A new one.

You accepted it, feeling the smooth fabric between your fingers -thoughtfully, "Where-"

"He'd somehow gathered you often cried during the fittings," Headmistress smiled a certain type of way -maybe in pride, "-asked me to extend it to you if you did so today."

Something in your heart flipped, "He's liable to run out, I've got quite the selection."

In the end, it only made the crying worse. Your eyes had become bleary as your fingertips flitted over the fabric -soft and careful. It seemed so intricate, there was even a little stitching in the corner.

Your eyes settled along it -startlingly.

'I love you.'

"Did you read the stitching?" You asked -voice rather scratchy, wiping at your eyes with your hands and extending it to her.

"Stitching?" She chimed, accepting it -pulling it between her fingers.

When she found it, she laughed ever-so-slightly -maybe a little weepy as well, but she gathered herself much quicker.

"You've got quite the man, darling."

You laughed a little, fingertips coming to your eyes instead, "I'd rather hate to soil it."

"Oh my dear," she comforted, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "-you should expect a lifetime of more gifts like it, you shouldn't-"

It should be said that such sentiments did not help your situation -rather, it worsened it. You seemed to cry more at the words.

The seamstress wrapped up the fitting rather quickly after that, urgently pulling the dress off of you -to keep the fabric safe, you assumed. You felt rather guilty, in retrospect, but you supposed you couldn't help it.

So you gathered up your basket, the stack of paper staring you down, and left the room -eagerly following Headmistress.

Mr. Grimes was nearly waiting outside the door, waltzing up to the two of you within minutes after you left the room. Headmistress had grinned at such a notion, quietly curtsying at his presence which you followed -dutifully.

"Rather eager, are you, Mr. Grimes?"

He pursed his lips, something pink dusting along the tips of his ears -it made you smile perhaps brighter, "For many things, Ms. Elisa."

"Ah," she conceded, something twinkling in her eyes -perhaps a little mischievously, "-I suppose you are rather eager for the wedding too."

He bit back a bright grin, supposedly trying to compose himself, you'd guessed. It wasn't quite working, but you didn't quite mind. You imagined Headmistress didn't either.

"'At I am," he hummed, eyes settling on you for a bit too long before flicking back to her.

Headmistress smiled, "Well, don't let me impose. I have some things to tend to, run through some of the wedding preparations-"

"Headmistress," you turned to her, "-Aren't I supposed to accompany you for such things?"

"Oh, please," she laughed, "-you've run through everything for months, darling. Anymore is tedious, and I believe I know all your preferences. Besides-"

She looked back to Mr. Grimes, whose smile was quite telling.

"-I imagine Mr. Grimes would much rather have your company."

He grinned just a little too tellingly, something in you fluttered that he just seemed so eager to be by your side. It made sense for a betrothed, but it didn't mean it changed how it felt.

"Am I wrong to make such an assumption, Mr. Grimes?" She poised, teasingly -you were glad she'd gotten to the point of comfort with Mr. Grimes to do so.

Headmistress was a little stingy, although she'd taken a liking to him for many reasons, she'd seen the lows. In short, she wasn't very trusting when it came to you and your sisters.

But, you fully believed she trusted him, especially after reading those letters.

"Not at all," he grinned, eyes fluttering along your face, "-I'd be very much honored if ya accompanied me, Ms. Greene."

You pursed your lips, looking to Headmistress, "Are you certain you-"

"Darling, darling," she shooed you, "-trust me a little, will you? I shall make everything perfect. You know I'm rather picky on details."

"Okay," you laughed a little, "-fine. Just-"

"I'll let you know if I need you," she quickly finished -moving her hands as if to shoo you away, "-now go."

You'd gathered to his side with ease -hand finding its place perfectly upon his arm, he smiled down at it like it was the first time. You wondered what exactly had gotten him so eager, you'd seen him rather recently-

"'Ve actually got somethin' to show you, Ms. Greene," he hummed -seemingly reading your mind.

"Do you?" You laughed, before your eyes flickered to the letters, "-I've got some things to talk about too, now that you mention it."

"Do you?" He repeated -grinning. It took nearly all of you not to kiss him right then and there.

You almost looked to see if the hallways were clear, but shook your head at the idea. There was a time and place.

Plus, you could always drag him into that old office later.

"Thank you for the handkerchief," you spoke quietly, as he guided you further into the estate (you were going towards the foyer, you noted).

Mr. Grimes smiled, a slow sort of one that smoothed across his lips, "Ms. Elisa gave it to ya, then? I had hoped so."

"Yes, although-" you countered, fingertips gently rubbing against his sleeve -mindlessly, "-I wasn't able to use it. I believed it rather tragic to ruin the stitching."

"Really?" He laughed, eyes holding your attention, "-I could certainly make ya many like it if I must-"

"Oh, yes," you agreed, "-Headmistress pointed that out, I hate to say it only made me cry harder."

"So you did cry again today?"

You laughed, falling in slow steps with him, "You'd believe me quite pathetic how many times I've cried in that room."

"Not pathetic," he chimed, "-never pathetic. I find it rather endearin'. Suppose it means the worse for me, however."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "How so?"

"If you can't look at yourself in it without cryin'," he explained, "-then lookin' at you walkin' the aisle, I'm sure to be very helpless."

"Oh, surely not," you echoed, "-I doubt you'll cry-"

"Did I not when I asked for your hand?"

He made a rather good point, "Well, yes, but-"

"No buts," he smiled -a little teasingly, "-I shall make sure to have a handkerchief handy."

You shook your head, smiling ever-so-brightly.

He quietly guided you toward the front door, you realized and you had the spare thought he'd done something outside, maybe in the garden. You wondered for a minute what exactly would be so exciting for him outside. Perhaps a new flower? Or maybe the plants were ready to be picked?

And then, unexpectedly, he stopped in the foyer -you nearly tripped into place. Mr. Grimes quickly stabilized you -hands smoothing along your shoulders almost on instinct.

"Mr. Grimes? What are we-"

With his hands still on your shoulder, he spun you around to the wall. Initially, you'd been rather confused -absentmindedly wondering just exactly what he'd want you to look at.

And then, you actually focused.

It was the spot you'd noted before that was rather empty, all those days ago when you'd confronted him. Your father had mindlessly remarked...

"Perhaps for something new."

Now, a portrait hung there. Your portrait.

You were rendered rather speechless, eyes flickering along your very own face -your crimson cheeks, the ever so slight tear trails, and the biggest smile you'd ever thought you'd had on your lips. Then, your eyes detailed along the dress -it was captured so well, all the detailing of the lace and the color was the very same. You felt as if you were looking at the dress in person, perhaps even in a mirror -it was so well painted. On instinct, your hands extended to it, before you startled to a stop.

"Can I-" you started, clearing your throat -suddenly you'd felt rather weepy, "-May I touch it?"

"It's yours," you could hear the smile in his voice, perhaps happy with your reaction, "-you certainly can touch it."

Mine, you mindlessly remarked, my very own portrait.

You remembered seeing them for the first time, and having the spare thought that you wished to have one. It was unfathomable then, but now you stood infront of it. Mr. Grimes had given it to you. Your very own portrait.

Your fingers gently drifted across the surface, you could feel the bumps -perhaps the swish of the brush or the paint itself. It was so large that you couldn't quite see it all from where you stood, but you found you much preferred your spot -you could see all the details.

"How did you-" you spoke in a barely there whisper, "-I didn't see it on the way in."

"Had 'em hang it upon the wall while you were in your fitting," he answered -simply, "-I suppose my staff may be a little furious for the rush of such a request-"

You laughed a little but remained still enraptured by the paint before you -unmoving.

Mr. Grimes stepped up to your side, you could easily feel his presence -the woodsy smell filling your nose.

"It's for the proposal," he spoke, a bit in explanation, "-I told you 'at-"

"You request them upon special occasion," you finished -finally turning to look at him.

He was looking at you that way he always did -fondly, in love. Perhaps a little proud of himself, but you believed he quite deserved to be.

"That was quite a special one," he smiled at you and you felt your heart stutter in your chest.

"How long have you-"

"Since 'at day I proposed to you," he clarified, "-not the real one, but in the garden. I remember tellin' you I did 'ave a plan-"

"But so soon?" You laughed, a little in disbelief, "-That was merely days after you'd done so in the garden."

"Well, I quite knew you were fond of the portraits," he explained, looking back to the portrait (a little enraptured but you weren't so sure it was for the craft), "-and then you'd looked so wistfully at the dresses, about the dress. I found it all slotted into place rather with ease."

You pursed your lips, perhaps pushing back the sob that threatened to escape your lips, "You do know you are certainly going to add to my tears again today, aren't you?"

Rick looked back at you -smiling fondly, "Well, at least ya 'ave a handkerchief."

#its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #twd rick #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may

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jun-hug · 1 year

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dream team art school! au

Doodles that inspired me to write a little drabble fic :)

ꕤ • ꕤ • ꕤ

This was Georges biggest project,

okay maybe biggest project this semester... or last 2 months, either way the assignment occupied boys attention for couple last weeks, especially this week. That's why his two best friends were so eager to meet up, it felt like they haven't seen him in so long yet they go to same university. When brunette texted on their group chat asking for a hand with a photoshoot he haven't even blinked an eye before they eagerly agreed.

What's even more exciting, boys haven't seen George's project yet! The oldest kept it a secret to "prevent the leaks" because apart from it being his assignment it was also an entry to one of his most ambitious fashion competitions. The fashion awards of all US fine arts universities. He had high hopes for it.

"Alright I'm almost ready, remember to put the ISO to 200, I borrowed those lights for a reason!” Georges words were a little muffled but still understandable as he worked on setting his design as perfectly as it could get.

"Got it Gogs, come on we don't have a whole day!” they did, their classes finished at 11am today and it was Friday so they were free for the next days. Sapnap was just eager to see the boys creation, after all he put all his heart into it, like he does to all his projects. "Actually we do" Dream interjected, youngest only glared at him knowing damn well he's as impatient considering constant taps on his thigh.

"Yeah Sap idiot, we have all day.. but you're right, it's better if the light from outside is still at it's best." he finally emerged from behind the wardrobe curtain. Okay. The boys were stunned it's not that George usually doesn't look like goddess himself - that's far from truth actually. It's just that this time they're seeing his art mixed with all his grace and beauty. Sapnap manages to whisper little "Oh god" only for Dream to hear, as the tallest boy starts "You-”

The baby blue glowy shirt, ornamented with flowered embroidery makes his face look soft, bringing out his strawberry cheeks and eyes hinted with a bit of peachy shadow. It all contrasts, yet fits without fault with a long, red, mermaid cut skirt. It's flowy, the material decorated with blue beads in the shape of hearts- And oh-

Dream gasps, Sapnap inhales loudly. Fishnets, George is wearing fishnets and the cut in the thigh is so high it shows his left leg fully. good christ, they are so down bad. Sapnap eyes Dream and They can really just see how both of them are fully raspberry blown faces.

They are both hot. red.

And The brunet who's the one and only cause is clearly oblivious to their reaction as he innocently asks "so how does it look?", makes a gesture with hands showing of the sleeves and frills on the skirt.

"I- you, it's well, George, it's so beautiful you look amazing." Dream exhaled eyes still on him, almost not blinking.

"George it truly is gleaming - I mean the colour palette for this one??? Ms Chevreu will loose her shit when she sees this! You actually are so skilled holy smokes” Sapnap added still admiring his friend's piece.

"awe thank you! I hope she looses her shit to be honest that would be funny, she's into reds recently so I think she will" boy snickered, his cheeks visibly tinted, not only from blush he applied couple minutes ago.

"alright!" he clapped his hands "time for shoot!"

Youngest set the light, while dark blond took photos to fill the entire SIM card folder. Taking that George was /very/ photogenic it was easy to catch the best shots, it's almost like he looks perfect in all of them. George is perfect tho, Dream thinks.

"Okay I think we're done, I took pictures from every side I think" Dream announced as George stretched "gods yes please my back is starting to hurt so bad" as to emphasize that he popped his bones ”ew George don't do that” Sapnap made a face.

"what do you mean you are the worst back popper I've met. Hearing only a scoff in response from other boy George's half lidded eyes closed for a little while.

"He's meditating guys!” Dream squeeked in one of his mocking voices, George giggled "he's died!"

"Okay, that's it I'm checking the photos!" Sapnap yanked the camera from the tallest's hands and plopped on one of the puff poufs. "Hey be careful you goose! this camera only cost me 5 and a half months of cafeshop money!” Dream hurried with scolding

George got up slowly and joined the youngest, soon enough all three of them were slumped on floor, brit in the middle looking and commenting on photos. "Hey guys.." brunet started, causing Dream and Sapnap turning to him.

"yeah?" dark brunette asked.

"thank you... for supporting me, like not only this time but at all" he turned his eyes from both pairs of theirs. Then he cupped each cheek and gave it a short kiss.

Boys blushed, all three of them.

"Yeah no problem Gogs, we'll always be your biggest fans" Sapnap breathed out.

"Always" Dream repeated.

And if for the rest of the day boys only watched movies all cuddled up on couch, snacking on anything they found in brunets kitchen, that was on them.

thank you for reading ♡

hugs,

Jun

#georgenotfound fanart #georgenotfound #dream fanart #dreamwastaken #sapnap fanart #sapnap #dreamnotnap #dnn #dream team #dream team fanfic #gnf #dtqk #mcyt #gnf fanart #doodle #art school au #drabble #dreamnotnap fic #jun arts

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lilcatdraws · 5 days

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Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Two - Feels Better In My Head

Warnings: Child abuse, domestic violence, alcoholism

Chapter Summary: Jack hates school and his father. Life sucks and nowhere feels truly safe. He desperately wants a way out...

Author’s Note: I finally got this done! It took me forever. I kept getting stuck towards the middle part. Also, I felt like the last chapter was way too short so this one is a little longer. Anyway I hope you enjoy! <3

Do you guys want a taglist for this series? I'd be happy to add you.

Jack woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon frying. His mother always got up early to cook breakfast. That was his alarm clock.

He yawned and crawled out of bed to get dressed. He kept on the same black t-shirt and pulled on a pair of khaki green cargo pants. He glanced over at his backpack tossed carelessly on the floor next to his nightstand and groaned. He knew he should probably go to school today. He’d already missed so much this year and his mother would pester him about it if he didn’t.

Jack picked up the backpack and stuffed its contents that fell out back in. He grabbed his sketchbook and his Polaroid camera from his dresser and packed them as well. There was no telling when inspiration would strike. He zipped the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder.

Cautiously, Jack walked from his room into the kitchen just in case Scott was still home. Jacqueline noticed him out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s okay. He’s at work.”

Jack relaxed and sat down at the table. It was a sad fact that he felt the most at ease when his father wasn’t home. Jacqueline finished off the bacon and brought it over. Jack snagged a few pieces as she turned to the refrigerator to get something to drink. She returned to the table with a carton of orange juice and sat down next to her son.

“Please go to school today, Jack.” Jacqueline said as she poured him some orange juice.

“I will. But I have to leave early because Mike needs me in the shop today.” Jack told her as he gulped down the juice.

Jacqueline sighed and swept her frizzy blonde curls out of her face. “Okay. At least you’re getting some education today. I just wish you would apply yourself more.”

“I don’t need school, mama. It’s dumb. I’m never gonna use any of it in the real world.”

“It never hurt anybody to be educated,” she kissed his forehead, “Now get going or you’re gonna be late. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Jack replied through a mouthful of bacon as he grabbed his stuff and went out the door.

He climbed into his black pickup truck parked under the carport and started off to school. He mentally prepared himself as he drove. It had been three days since he last went. He was really enjoying the small break but his mom wanted him to go and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

Jack made it to the school and walked in, keeping his head down and avoiding people. He didn’t have any friends. There were a few acquaintances sure, but no one he really hung around or talked to regularly. He was a loner. On days he did attend the whole day, he spent the lunch period by himself and his breaks drawing in his sketchbook.

As depressing as it seemed, it didn’t bother him. He liked being alone.

Jack entered his homeroom and sat down at his desk in the back. He took out a pencil and the notebook he needed and sat them in front of him. This was his first period class, boring as usual. He had no interest in algebra. Too many formulas and confusing rules. So he did what he normally did and doodled in his math notebook instead of taking notes.

His next class, chemistry, was just as hard for him but slightly piqued his interest. Learning about different chemicals and how things worked fascinated him. Especially when they got to talk about radiation and explosions. But today was just bookwork and Jack was bored out of his mind.

Two more hours and I can get out of here…

The last class before lunch was English. Jack hated this subject. It was the most boring out of all his classes, his teacher was awful, and he wasn’t good at reading.

To pass the time, he actually did his work but it was half-assed. He really could care less about schoolwork. Some things he genuinely didn’t understand but he still could’ve put in a little more effort.

Finally, the lunch bell rang and Jack didn’t hesitate darting from the classroom to the parking lot. He made it back to his truck and left the school grounds in the dust, eager to get to work.

He loved his job. Mike was an awesome guy to work for. It didn’t pay much but it was a good first job. Jack helped out in Mike’s repair shop by sweeping, moving equipment, handing him parts, etc.

Jack arrived at the shop and parked out front. He walked around back to the garage where Mike usually was. Mike was a middle aged guy in his late 40s. He was bald, stout, and a little on the shorter side with a graying, bushy brown beard. He had become somewhat of a mentor to Jack over the years.

Today Mike was underneath a small red car fixing something. He noticed Jack and slid out, chuckling. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“I was but Mom said I could leave early for work.”

“Now why do I feel like that’s a half truth? Eh, it doesn't matter to me. It’s not my education you're screwing with.”

“Pfft. I don’t care about school. It’s so dumb. I probably learn more here than I do there.”

Mike shrugged. “I got some stuff for you to do. There’s a few boxes out front with the new tools in them. Move them back here and put them where they go. Then I need you to sweep around the garage. It’s getting filthy.”

Jack nodded and got right to work. He went back to the front and found the boxes sitting at the door. They were unopened and quite heavy but nothing Jack couldn’t lift. He brought them back to the garage and set them down next to the metal cabinets. After opening them, he put all the tools where they belonged and threw away the boxes. Then he grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Dust, dirt, debris, trash, leaves, etc. littered the concrete floors.

Man, I can’t even remember the last time I swept. This is disgusting. Jack thought as he tossed the dustpan on the floor and swept the pile of filth he created into the pan.

Mike’s radio played in the background and Jack nodded quietly along with the music. For over an hour he swept and swept until the floor was finally clean. He dumped the last pile into the trash and propped the broom against the wall, admiring his work. He knew having the shop clean and organized would help out Mike a lot.

Mike looked up from his work and laughed. “Done already? Well, I guess I could teach you how to put in a new transmission. Come here and I’ll show you.”

After an interesting lesson from Mike and a few more hours of odd jobs around the shop, it was time for Jack to go home. He glanced at his watch as he walked back to his truck. He was about to open the door when a glimmer of light caught his eye.

A brown glass bottle was laying in the ditch near the road. He paused for a moment, lost in thought. Suddenly a childhood memory hit him at full speed and there was no stopping it.

Crash!

Glass was sent everywhere as Jack tumbled to the floor. He clutched the back of his head, blood pooling into his hands. He burst into tears as any eight year old would in this terrifying situation. His mother, hearing the commotion, came running into the kitchen. She ignored her seething husband for once and knelt next to her son, peeling away his hands and accessing the wound.

Jaqueline whipped around to face the man responsible, unusually fearless. “Did you do this to him?!”

“Pshhh. So what if I did? The little brat deserved it.” The drunk slurred.

“He needs a hospital, Scott!”

“You ain’t taking him nowhere! He’ll live.” Scott bellowed.

Jacqueline huffed, picked up Jack, and whisked him away to the bathroom where she could treat the wound to the best of her ability. She took a washcloth and ran it under some warm water. Then she fanned out his curls surrounding the gash and cleaned it up with the washcloth. She wiped his bloody hands clean and picked what glass she could out of his hair and the wound. Jack whimpered in pain.

“Shhh. It’s okay, sunshine. It’s okay. Mama’s got this taken care of.” Jacqueline reassured him gently.

Once she got the wound clean, she bandaged it and carried Jack to his room. She put him to bed and kissed him goodnight. Jack’s memory of that night faded from there.

Jack blinked and brought himself back. He sighed and got in the driver’s seat. Before he went home, he wanted to ride around for a bit. He went straight through town and then took a few backroads. He ended up on the main road again out in the countryside. Nothing was out there except the forest and occasional billboards. His hometown truly was in the middle of nowhere.

A nice photo opportunity came up so Jack pulled over in a field nearby. There was a beautiful view of the sunset with the trees underneath. He fished his Polaroid out his backpack and hopped out of the truck. He lowered the tailgate and sat down, positioning his camera into the perfect place. When he got the shot he wanted, he set the camera down and laid back, gazing at the sky.

He wished he could stay here forever lost in his head instead of going home. He dreaded school and he dreaded his house. The only true safe place was going out alone. The streets were once again his safe haven.

Jack finally got a hold of himself and realized how much had passed. As much as he hated to, he really needed to get home. He put the tailgate up and climbed back in. The drive back home was the same as every other day yet he cringed at each familiar landmark he passed and every curve he rounded. Today he was feeling particularly uneasy about going home.

He turned down his street and pulled into his driveway, parking under the carport. His father wasn’t home yet.

Thank God.

As he walked up to the front porch, Jack noticed a pair of glowing yellow eyes underneath the deck. He smiled, knowing exactly who they belonged to.

“Luna, come on out girl. It’s okay.” He coaxed the creature.

A gray cat shimmied out from under the porch and stretched. She meowed and rubbed up against Jack's legs, purring contently.

The neighborhood Jack lived in had a lot of stray cats. He loved animals and they loved him. He enjoyed all the cats he came across but he had a special bond with Luna. She wasn’t technically his cat since she moved throughout the neighborhood but she always found her way back to his house at some point.

Jack reached into his backpack and produced a plastic bag filled with cat treats. He always kept some on him in case he ran into a stray. He grabbed two treats out and sat them down in front of Luna. She nibbled at them gratefully and meowed her thanks.

Jack pet her a few more times before walking up the stairs and entering the house. Jacqueline was in the kitchen washing dishes. Jack could smell dinner cooking. His mother turned around and her face lit up when she saw him.

“Hi sweetie! How was your day?”

“Eh, it was alright. School was pretty boring.”

“Ha. I figured you’d say that. Here, wash up and help me with the dishes.”

…

After Jack helped with washing the dishes and set up the table, the food was ready. Jacqueline took it out of the oven and placed it on the table. As soon as they sat down, Scott came stumbling through the door. The atmosphere in the house suddenly became tense and Jack could feel the temperature drop a few degrees.

“H-hi honey. Dinner’s ready.” Jacqueline said meekly.

Scott smirked. “Heh, you did something right for a change.”

He sat down across from his wife and fixed his plate. Once again Jack was stuck in the middle. He felt his blood boil at his father's haughty attitude. His mom worked so hard for her no good husband only to be treated like dirt.

“How was your day, son?”

“Fine.” Jack replied shortly. He was repulsed by that horrible man calling him son.

Scott nodded half heartedly and turned to Jacqueline. “I’m glad we didn’t have a repeat of last night, dear.”

Jacqueline just looked down timidly. How could he be so cruel? Jack couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Last night would never have happened if you came home on time instead of going out drinking.”

Jacqueline's eyes widened in fear. She glanced at Jack, silently pleading with him to be quiet. It was too late. Scott stood up, knocking his chair over, and loomed over Jack.

“What was that, boy?”

Jack just stared back at him unafraid. Scott slapped him hard across the face and sent him to the floor. It all happened so fast, Jack could barely think. Before he knew it, Scott was kicking him in the side until his surge of rage subsided. Jack gasped as the wind was knocked out of him.

Finally Scott stopped and glared down at him angrily. “Don’t you ever question what I do with my time again! It’s none of your business.”

With that he sat down again and went back to eating, completely ignoring his beaten son lying on the floor. All Jack could do was lay there and cry silently. He couldn’t wait until he could finally get away from this hellhole. It would come at a cost but to him it was worth it.

#ledger joker #jack napier #the dark knight #heath ledger #nolanverse #cross posted on ao3 #lilcat writes

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maldreathezora · 11 months

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I am going to fail at ending A New Calamity.

Today I listened to my parents talk about what kept them from becoming artists, or more to the point, "successful" artists. My Mom's a perfectionist and felt if she didn't get it right the first time, she never would. My Dad blames a girlfriend-stealing high school art professor. They're both real artists, by the way. My Dad, a retired construction worker, draws hyper realistic portraits. My mom doodles, sings opera and fixes computers. They both balk at the notion of sharing their artistic work online. They are in their 70's or almost. A mistrust of technology is not a surprise here.

I am on the autism spectrum. So I start more projects than I finish. I love coming up with new ideas and beginning new worlds. They generally fizzle out before the grand finale, unless I'm REALLY dedicated and doing it primarily for my own enjoyment. So ANC has that going for it.

A professor in college looked at my 2012 final portfolio, beautiful work but missing the all-important photo corners to center the pieces. I'll never forget what he said: You do good work, but you never quite finish it, do you?

I don't struggle with perfection, and I do. I try as hard as my cancer addled body lets me. Then I let it go out into the airwaves, and start the next page or frame or panel or project. I always forget the final touches.

Imperfect is kickass.

If you ask me.

Ever heard of Fail Harder? The basic gist is, try *so hard* that failing to achieve perfection is still an epic win. I'm going to fail at ending this comic in some way. I will put on my sunglasses and watch it burn beautifully.

Not everyone is going to be happy with my ending. I might not even be happy with it. It's based on my fight with cancer, for crying out loud. What kind of ending can we expect? Maybe I'll learn the secret of happiness before I die of cells that went extra. And maybe only my readers will be able to actually put that secret into practice.

I love you all. I love when you let me know how i've inspired or comforted you with this comic. That's what gets me out of bed in the afternoon. (1pm at minimum. Maybe noon.)

In conclusion, dear readers... I don't know what I'm doing, and I shall continue regardless. Peace.

#a new calamity #anc #june 20 2023 #writing #comic

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pepperonidk · 2 years

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When He Sees Me || k.mg

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Reader

Warnings: none <3

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? Catching feelings for your best friend is never easy.

A/N: If you like this story, please throw in a reblog lol. Inspired by true events. Obsessed with the quirky lil idea of bestfriend!Mingyu <3 this is also posted on my marvel account (@capwogers).

Oh God, please don’t walk this way, please don’t wa-

“Oh, hey Mingyu!” The crack in your voice betrayed your attempt at a casual greeting, despite your efforts to disguise it with a cough. “How’s it-- how’s it hanging?”

“You good?” Mingyu smiled at you but his eyebrow quirked upwards in concern. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?” His concern faded into a wide grin as you nodded in response. Mingyu gave you a quick goodbye before walking away towards his next class.

As soon as you saw him turn into the classroom, you turned to face your closed locker, letting out a groan before setting your forehead against it. Mingyu had asked if you were good, and although you nodded, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to give you away. You were very much not good.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see your friend Minghao. “What did Mingyu do this time?” Minghao asked. For the last month, every interaction with Mingyu -- there have been a lot -- ended this way: a groan of defeat and a few welted lines on your forehead from holding your head against your locker. You turned to give Minghao a dirty look, annoyed by the amused smirk on his face.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed, finally lifting your head up to talk to him. You opened your locker as you talked, not wanting to make eye contact with Minghao as you confessed your feelings. “He just… smiled… and everything went downhill from there.” You rolled your eyes as Minghao laughed. “It’s getting worse, I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.”

Minghao laid a hand on your shoulder. “Well we’ll all be there,” he offered. “And if it makes you feel better, no one’s even noticed. Just act normal and you’ll be fine.” He shrugged his shoulders as if that was the easiest thing to do. But you couldn’t act normal anymore, not with Mingyu. Not when normal means resting your head against his shoulder every time he makes you laugh. Not when normal means borrowing his clothes when he tells you to stay the night every time a study session runs too long. Not when normal means wearing the extra sweater he keeps for you because you always forget yours.

Normal was when you didn’t feel butterflies everytime he looked at you, before your curious heart got the better of you and you began to wonder what it might be like to hold his hand. Now, things were just weird. At least for you. Nothing on the surface had changed, no one noticed how your heart rate picked up every time Mingyu touched you, or how you suddenly felt hot whenever he winked at you. But inside your heart was navigating uncharted territory in your friendship, trying to traipse along the thin line that separated how things have always been and how you suddenly wish things could be.

Pulling your textbook out of your locker, you shut the locker door a just a little bit more aggressively than necessary. Minghao gave you a small hug before linking grabbing your arm to drag you to your next class.

For the rest of the day, you found it impossible to focus on anything. Instead of taking down notes on George Orwell in English, you found yourself absentmindedly doodling hearts. Everything just reminded you of Mingyu and your own confusing feelings. Thankfully, you didn’t share any classes with him today, leaving you just enough solitude to think about just why you were so frustrated with yourself.

Logically, you knew there was nothing wrong with having a crush on someone. You’ve had plenty of crushes before, a few of which reflected a temporary lapse in judgement on your part. You remember telling Mingyu about each of them, gushing about the most basic acts of human decency as he rolled his eyes and told you that you deserve someone better, but nevertheless helping you pick up the pieces every time someone broke your heart. That, you realized, was what scared you the most.

If you were to date, and then break up… well who would be there with kind words and your favorite boba when everything fell apart? The thought of losing your best friend over emotions, feelings, left far too much to chance. Was the idea of holding his hand, of hearing him call you his enough to make you risk the friendship that has always been enough for you? It should be enough for you, you reminded yourself. There was too much on the line and not enough guarantee for you to risk it.

With that determination in mind, you steeled yourself for the rest of the day, determined to put your feelings to rest and go back to normal.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly fell through.

You got to the restaurant a half hour late with only a really good nap to blame. You felt bad that your friends were waiting for you, but when you got there, you found an empty spot next to Mingyu, where your usual order of ramen was waiting and against your will, the butterflies flew rampant. The noodle that hit Mingyu’s nose as he ate while waving you over made you laugh as you sat down beside him.

“I got you your usual,” Mingyu explained in between bites. You smiled and thanked him before digging in. Mingyu had done this for you many times, and you willed your body to fight against the flutter of your heart.

Thankfully, the rest of your dinner was going well, and everyone had plenty of stories to tell. Minghao had begun doing portraits of people in distress and revealed his latest piece -- a portrait of Mingyu slurping up a noodle only to get a rogue drop of soup in his eye. Jeonghan and Seokmin were fighting over something petty yet again, but of course they tried to keep it civil (they were fine again by the end of the night) so no one would have to pick sides. Seungcheol teased Mingyu about the B that he made on his literature exam yesterday over poetry and Mingyu’s face turned beet red.

“Hey,” Mingyu began, attempting to defend himself. “I totally could’ve made a perfect score. I was just distracted.” He shrunk down in his seat a little bit, and the rest of you laughed teasingly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Seungcheol continued. “You’ve been drawing little hearts all over your notes, dude, it’s unsettling.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food, swirling his fork around the bowl trying to grab as much noodle as possible.

Across the table, you and Minghao made eye contact, a look of surprise between the both of you. You tried to signal him to say something before a weird silence fell on the table, but he was not reading your cues. Thankfully, Mingyu spoke again.

“H-hearts?” He repeated. “Why would I be drawing hearts on my notes?” Although he tried to play it off, the rise in pitch gave him away. He scrunched his face in exaggeration.

“Actually,” Chan began. “Now that I think about it, you were doing that in chemistry class too.” You glanced over at Mingyu who looked at you with panic in his eyes. You took a long sip of water, suddenly feeling a layer of sweat form at the back of your neck. “Wonder what that’s about.” He shrugged and turned to Jeonghan asking if he wanted to split a slice of cheesecake with him.

Before Mingyu had a chance to try to defend himself once again, the waitress appeared. “Are you all ready for the check?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re splitting the check,” Seungcheol replied. Jeonghan rolled his eyes in response. “What? Just because I’m rich does not mean I have to share the wealth.”

The waitress nodded in response. As he was leaving Mingyu called her back. “Oh wait,” he called. “I’ll also be paying for this order,” he gestured to your bowl. She smiled at him and headed for the counter.

“Gyu,” you smiled. “I have money, I can pay for myself.” Although Mingyu usually had to order for you, he didn’t usually pay for you, unless it was a special occasion.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice,” he responded, giving your shoulder a playful nudge. “Plus, you seem like you’ve had a rough week. Every time I see you, you seem to be lost in thought. What’s been on your mind?” The sentence came out casually, but the furrow in his brows revealed how concerned he actually has been. Mingyu was nothing if not observant.

You let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to lie to Mingyu, but you also didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were thinking about him-- well, your feelings for him. Just when it seemed like he had backed you into a corner, however, the waitress had returned with the checks, and the question left unanswered.

After dinner, the six of you went to Seungcheol’s house to watch a movie. He had a home theater and loved to remind everyone about it. Not that any of you minded, especially if it got you free popcorn and a movie out of it. Every week, a different person got to select the movie and today, unfortunately, was Minghao’s turn.

You loved him, of course, but you absolutely detested his taste in movies. Mostly because he was a horror junkie, and you were absolutely not. His last few turns however had been spent making sure you all had seen all of the Shrek movies. But today, he actually picked a horror film. Something about demons and the like. Chan and Jeonghan cheered at his selection as Seungcheol groaned. You settled into the couch in the back of the room and grabbed a blanket. Seungcheol and Joshua sat together on a couch, and Jeonghan sat on the floor in front of Seungcheol’s seat, the perfect spot to be able to scare him with a single touch on his leg.

Mingyu sat down beside you, handing you a tub of popcorn and a soda. He pulled the blanket over his own lap as he sat criss-cross on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to how his leg was brushing against yours under the blanket, instead focusing on the screen as the room went dark.

The movie had just started, but you could already feel yourself tense up in expectation. The music was coming to a crescendo and you knew something was already going to happen. You didn’t realize just how tightly your fists had balled together in your lap till you jumped at the sound of Mingyu’s soft voice at the shell of your ear. “Are you okay?” He asked.

He tried to hold in a chuckle as you almost bounced the tub of popcorn off your lap. He grabbed it from you and set it to the side. “Look,” he pointed to the screen where the creature’s head had just rotated a full circle as it crawled up the wall in pursuit of the main character. “That thing kinda looks like the spider from that kid’s tv show, but not as creepy.” You let out a laugh, a little louder than you meant, and Jihoon turned to tell you to shut up.

The small joke was enough to dissipate the anxiety you felt towards the movie, but unfortunately only heightened your feelings about Mingyu. But he noticed how your fists unclenched and how your shoulders relaxed once you laughed, so he continued to tell you whispered jokes for the rest of the movie. Each time he noticed your body tensing, he tried his best to make you laugh, and god, how could you stop yourself from those butterflies anymore?

At the height of the movie, you found yourself with your hands over your ears, and eyes squeezed shut, unable to even look at the screen or hear a joke. When Mingyu realized a joke wouldn’t be enough, he slid closer to you and pulled you into his side and you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Before you had a chance to think about the spicy notes of his cologne or the softness of his skin, the sound of a high pitched scream in the movie caused you to jump with a gasp. In response, Mingyu wrapped his arms around you tight, with a gentle shush.

It was only after the music began to die down that you opened your eyes again, only to find Mingyu’s eyes fixed on the screen. Now that the worst was over, you no longer had an excuse to be in his embrace the way you were. You began to wiggle your way out of his arms, attracting his attention.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Gyu, I’m a big kid,” you smiled, teasing. “You don’t have to hold me like a baby.” Mingyu let out a soft laugh before relaxing his hold on you just a bit.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll just hold you like this then.” He began to shift so that your head was on his shoulder, and one of his arms looped under yours, intertwining your fingers. The smile on his face was calm as if this was something the two of you did all the time, but his racing heartbeat reminded you this was new for him too.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie. By the time the soft music began to play in the credits, you could hear light snoring from everyone else in the room. However, you and Mingyu made absolutely no efforts to untangle yourselves from each other. It was as if you were worried that once the lights came back on, you would never find yourself like this again, and what a sad idea that was. Normal, would never be enough for you again, not when you know now how much better life could be like in his arms.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the jump scares, or the sureness of his hand in yours, like it’s always belonged there, that gave you the courage to finally break the silence.

“Mingyu,” you breathed out, lifting your head from his shoulder, but not letting go of his hand.

He turned to you, with a look of concern, afraid of what you might say.

“Kiss me.” The words came out so softly and so quickly that you weren’t sure if you said it at all.

“Finally,” he whispered as his lips fell against yours, softly and slowly. He pulled away after what felt like hours and yet not nearly enough time. His hands reached up to cup your face. “I like you,” he admitted. “So much.”

Suddenly, you felt it. You felt exactly what it must feel like to fly, to let yourself go without worrying about gravity or anything else. The risks were still there, the numbers hadn’t changed, but you knew that no matter what happened next, just having the chance to fly would always be enough.

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twogyuu · 1 year

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be here with me [teaser]

Pairing: Mark Lee x fem!reader

Synopsis:

And I keep saying okay (Okay) I never listen to my own heart I do whatever they say (They say) While looking like you're happy as hell (Oh, I) I really hope that you feel the same (Oh, I) Tonight

– 7PM, BooSeokSoon ft. Peder Elias

Genre: Fluff with a smattering of angst (DA NILE IS A RIVER IN EGYPT), crack, BFF-2-???, inspired by BBS's 7PM, clumsy heir!Mark, heir-to-normie!reader, struggling grad student!reader, secretary!Doyoung

Warnings: Profanity, mentions of food and alcohol, underage drinking, social inequities, reader has long enough hair to be put in a bun

Teaser WC: ~700

Estimated WC: ~7k

Estimated release date: Early March 2023

A/N: Hehehe 😅 Surprise?

First of all, I want to apologize to everyone! Perhaps I should've been more careful with my words . . . maybe rather than a (semi-)hiatus, I'll just be slowing down as a writer, meaning, new fics and/or series updates will just be much more infrequent. I've tried a few times now to go away on hiatus, but it seems writing is just kinda stuck in my veins? As I leave, new ideas form (like this one 💀) and I just can't seem to help myself 😭 Again, I'm so sorry for being overdramatic, but I was in a weird headspace last week - I'll be more careful with my announcements in the future :')

Anyways, my second official NCT fic and my first Mark Lee fic 😍✨ I was hoping to release it this weekend, but reading through what I have so far, I think I want to sit on this a little longer and read it over a couple more times before sharing the final product with you all. As eager as I am to share it, I want to be satisfied with it first and be able to show you a better/different side of my writing 😊 For the time being, here is a small snippet of what's to come. A special shout out to @wooahaes for helping a friend out thus far 💙 Happy reading!

Despite the titles behind his name and the way his father’s business partners and employees praised and pampered him, Mark liked to think he wasn’t so different from all these people he was passing by on the drive. Life had its bright spots, but today was one of those seemingly dreary ones for everyone, glum and tired expressions painting their faces. It matched the dark, heavy gray clouds that loomed over the city.

Tugging at the knot of his tie loose, Mark shook his head and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to shake the fatigue off his eyes. He slumped forward, pressing his forehead into the cool glass, hoping the cold would jolt him awake like after a couple sips of an iced Americano and the caffeine started coursing through his veins. A patch of fog formed from his breath and Mark raised his hand to trace a childish smiley face in it. For no good reason other than it brought him the smallest amount of joy, his expression mirrored the doodle as he smiled lazily at it.

Sometimes, it felt satisfactory to just let things be and exist.

“We’ll arrive at the convenience store in about ten minutes, sir,” Doyoung announced from the front.

“We’re off duty,” Mark caught his secretary’s watchful eye in the rearview mirror, “I told you could just call me by my name when we’re not in office.”

Mark peered outside again, quietly counting the cars he passed like the seconds until he reached you.

“Right . . . Mark,” Doyoung huffed. “Sorry, force of habit." He cleared his throat eyes flickering from the road back to his boss again. "Uh, but um . . .” his voice trailing off, blending with the car horns going off in the distance.

Mark knew he had more to say than announcing the ETA. He always did on nights like this – it was like clockwork at this point.

The older man cleared his throat a little louder this time. He sat up straighter in his seat and asked bluntly, “Have you told your father yet?”

Mark didn’t bother to look back up at him.

“No,” Mark replied curtly. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing well that a mini-lecture was coming. As great as Doyoung has been as a secretary, older brother figure, and a companion these past few years, he was a stickler for rules, structure, and tradition – something the two didn’t always see eye-to-eye on.

Doyoung sighed, shaking his head slightly. “You do know you know this . . . arrangement between you and Miss Y/L/N is only going to hurt you in the long-run, right? Your father –”

“‘Would be very upset with you associating yourself with anyone with ties to the fallen CEO of Choi Electronics, especially the former heiress, herself,’” Mark cut him off, quoting his secretary. It was not anything new – Mark knew this lecture like the Queen Mab monologue from Romeo and Juliet he was forced to memorize in high school: boring and long, but dramatic when it came from other people.

He continued, “‘It’s not good for your reputation if this gets out you’re still seeing her’ – I know,” he looked up at the rearview mirror again, a bored look in his eyes. “I know, but I can’t just . . . let her go like that. Not yet, at least; she’s . . . been my best friend since forever.”

“Mark,” Doyoung warned, though there was a hint of sympathy in his tone. Doyoung has been around long enough to know how fond the young heir was of you. Being one of the few children in the elite corporate world, the two of you were quick to befriend one another, becoming attached at the hip before anyone could blink. Despite the way your friendship waxed and waned as the two of you grew older, at the end of the day, you’d always find one another, some way, somehow.

The fall of your family name a few years ago didn’t seem to break that habit.

Doyoung knew none of it was your fault. You didn’t deserve any of the misfortune that you had faced and were coming your way when you finished graduate school. You were merely a collateral piece of a larger, cruel game.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee #mark lee imagines #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios

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vani-candy · 7 months

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epic title reveal!!!! i've decided to call my webcomic series Swan's Treasure going forward! my fellow Fang enjoyers will probably get the title's meaning but there's a little bit more to it that will be revealed in time, truthfully i'm a little bad at titling things hence why so many of my doodle filenames are keysmashes so i had to get my brain gears turning for this one, but i'm happy with it!

Truthfully, i didn't expect to still be making fancomics of these two today; I expected to drop Cheery Picnic and then just draw little fanart here and there from that point forward. Drawing OC x canon has always been a guilty pleasure of mine, but i was always used to myself or others being bullied or harassed and called "cringe" for making it, so i was turned away from creating such content for many years. However, seeing all the support and positive feedback people gave me on Cheery Picnic and seeing so many people liking Mitty's character inspired me to keep going!

I'm still floored by the support people give me, but it genuinely makes me happy to see people loving Mitty and wanting to see more of her and Fang's story. (Especially cause my sad brain expected people to dislike her oops.) That's why I felt it necessary to finally give this little series an overall title; it's grown far beyond my expectations and I intend to keep working on it especially after the game's full release! Of course, another motivator for me is the endless brainrot I have HAHAHA

I didn't quite mean to get sappy on main, but I nonetheless want to thank you all for your support so far. As I always say, thank you for enjoying my self-indulgent art and comics, it means the world to me!

#mtas oc #mtas builder #mtas fang #my time at sandrock #comic title reveal #vani candy art #swans treasure #gotta go back and tag the comics properly #been meaning to tweak some tags here n there anyway HAHA #oc x canon #doodle #silly doodle

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elaho · 5 months

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A preview of an MBTI x Enneagram webcomic/illustration project I'm thinking of doing. Psychology and personal growth have always been important to me, and learning about MBTI, Jungian Typology, and Enneagram over the years has helped me to develop an in-depth understanding of myself and others. This year [2023] has been very hard for me, and if I'm being honest, I haven't felt like myself in a really, really long time; it's nice to finally feel inspiration and excitement for something like this again, even if it's only for fun.

I also have a backlog of illustrations and doodles from the past few years that I still haven't posted, but that's something I want to change starting today. As challenging as it is for me to post consistently on Tumblr, it's something I want to get better at.

I think one of my goals for 2024 will be to start posting things regularly -- even if they aren't completed or "perfect". And as scary as that sounds right now, I think it will be good.

#character design #concept art #mbti #enneagram #portfolio 2023 #mbti webcomic #my infp life #mbti infp #lunar moth #infp 6w5 #psychology #mental health #mbti fanart #mbti types #self portrait #infp fanart

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my-own-walker · 9 months

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Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

The rest of the weekend went fine. I spent the majority of it dreading class on Monday. For one, I did not want to see how badly I failed Friday's quiz. Also, I especially didn't want to see Kyle. Or Kyle to see me, for that matter. It was weird that he had gone from "just some guy" to someone I couldn't stand in a matter of a day.

When I sat in the nearly empty lecture hall, I said a silent prayer that Kyle would find himself running early today. He could find a seat next to Archie and I would have a break from him. Instead, though, I sat through an excruciating fifteen minutes of watching people trickle in, filling up the classroom in the usual arrangement. I couldn't even look at the door any longer, for fear of Kyle thinking I might be looking for him. I began doodling in my notebook, idly drawing little faces and flowers while awaiting my impending social doom.

Within seconds, it seemed, a figure slid down into the chair next to mine, landing with a thunk. I didn't dare move a muscle. As if the universe were trying to reward me, our professor began the lecture quickly. I avoided any confrontation with Kyle, at least for the time being.

I took notes rather diligently. There was no way I could stoop as low as to cheat again. Each figure, equation, and concept got hastily scribbled into my notebook. I even threw on my glasses part-way through to see the board better. I didn't wear them often, instead opting to simply sit where I could see well enough. But I meant business.

The class started to go by quickly. The professor began to speak faster in order to cram the content in before the hour was up. I could hardly keep up with the break-neck pace. While flipping my pencil over to erase something I had written, it flew out of my hand and clattered to the ground. Before I could even react, a blonde mop of hair dipped into my periphery.

"Here," Kyle whispered, presenting me with the catapulted writing utensil.

"Thanks," I replied simply, taking the pencil so I could return to trying to not fail calculus. He smiled genuinely at me, his gaze lingering for longer than I could believe. I returned to writing, but suddenly, it was hard to focus on the task at hand. My stupid brain kept replaying his smile. The way his eyes crinkled, their deep brown color striking me. Stop, Hannah, I scolded myself.

Professor Edwards finally finished lecturing and opened up the room to questions, with just minutes until we were due to leave. I looked at my handiwork in my notebook and found that I hadn't written anything down since dropping my pencil. I covered my face with my hands and rubbed my eyes. How could I let a boy, let alone Kyle Spencer, distract me like that?

I felt Kyle turn his attention to me. In my periphery, I could see that he was looking at me periodically. I tried my best to focus on the last seconds of class time, but it was to no avail. I started packing my things up in defeat.

Kyle was up and out of his seat as soon as our professor said we could leave. I was thankful for it. If he didn't want to chance speaking to me, I sure as hell didn't want to chance it either.

The apartment was eerily quiet. I couldn't stand it.

I was up late, trying to finish a piece for my poetry class. Inspiration hadn't struck me yet and I grew frustrated. It wasn't due until Friday, but if I wanted to pass a calc quiz, I'd have to finish the poem as soon as possible to focus on math for the rest of the week. I stood and stretched, padding over to my bed. The old mattress springs protested as I laid my weary body upon them.

I stared up at the ceiling, hoping some divine intervention would give me an idea. The poetry prompt was essentially to write about love. It was the first piece that would be due in class, so the professor started with an easy assignment. Well, at least, it was supposed to be. Love is perhaps the easiest, most cliche thing to write about. I think that's why I struggled so much with it.

Out of sheer desperation, I pulled out my phone to scroll through Instagram. Maybe getting the instant dopamine rush of social media would help me feel "love" somehow. I mainly followed other kids from school. My feed was full of party photos, quotes from famous authors, and some indie "aesthetic" accounts' posts.

While scrolling, a quote from Virginia Woolf came up. I was relieved, hoping her great, old words would give me inspiration. "Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you." I scrolled down, kind of unsatisfied with the quote. The next photo was one posted by my friend Leon. It was a group shot of him and his frat brothers at the TKE party on Friday. In the center of the shot, stood an unmistakable blonde boy. Kyle Spencer.

I threw my phone down onto the bed next to me and groaned aloud. Why can I not get rid of this guy? Why do I see him everywhere now? I thought. I sat up and stared off, wide-eyed, at the corner of my room. I knew what I needed.

Hopping off my bed, I was careful to not make too much noise. I grabbed my laptop and shoved it into my leather messenger bag. I slid the first pair of shoes I could find on, plugged my headphones into my phone, and slipped quietly out of my room.

My plan was to hit up my favorite late-night coffee shop on campus. The night was dark and humid, smacking me in the face as I stepped out into it. After shoving my headphones into my ears, I put the hood up on my sweatshirt and set off to my insomniac paradise. It was aptly called "Sleepwalker Coffee Co." They knew their audience well. College students need caffeine at all hours of the day.

The walk was short. We lived rather close to the shop. I discovered the place my freshman year and fell in love. When Lily and I were searching for an apartment, I practically begged her, on my hands and knees, to move into the place closest to Sleepwalker. In three years, I essentially ate and drank my way through their entire menu. I walked along the campus streets until I reached the familiar brick exterior of the shop. The door was painted a dark evergreen and held a beautiful wreath of dried flowers. When I stepped in, the warm smell of cinnamon and freshly ground coffee beans calmed my senses.

I nestled into a small booth in the corner of the place. It was unsurprisingly packed in there. Tons of students sat getting work done while fraying their nerves with cups of liquid energy. It was dark and plush in the shop. Velvet seating and dark looming bookshelves surrounded me. Royal purple drapes hung on the windows. I took the first sip of my chai latte and sighed, smiling softly.

The world was better at hours like this, I found. No one bothers you. The coffee shop, as busy as it was, felt like my own personal haven. I could sit in peaceful bliss, working away steadily on my laptop. At hours like this, the sky is dark, sparkling with the ethereal promise of a new day.

Sparkling. The word hung in my mind like how low smoke hangs and swirls around your head in a dark dive bar. What sparkles? I thought. How does love sparkle? It doesn't. But someone can. Someone you love.

That was all the inspiration I needed to get my poem done.

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