Latest Posts by ahhhh-118 - Page 3
Combined prompts suggested by @wtjaden and @ahhhh-118!
Prompt birthed by @ahhhh-118!
Textless version.
Hi, have you ever thought about doing a voice claim for Benjamin or imagined what his voice would sound like? I have myself ofc
(Also Benjamin is so adorable, I just wanna squeeze him, may I please hug him at least, if Mordecai okay with it?)
Impeccable timing with this ask! I do indeed have a voice claim :)
This note was supposed to appear in a Christmas fanfic, but after @acesandocs sent me an ask about RoMaunce "Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)" with an art request, I made a decision to post both the fic and the note much earlier. The fic is under the cut, enjoy the Christmas spirit in the middle of summer. :D
Bonus: the fic also tells the story of The Most Ridiculous Scarf's creation. x))
The Winter Wonder
Working until the last client was an awful practice.
Mau couldn't remember when she had gotten a good night's sleep. Hiding behind the storefront window, she rested her head on her hands folded on the counter and tried her best to keep from falling into slumber. She might have fallen asleep for real if it hadn't been for the cheerful music that was playing from the radio.
“Let's not disturb Miss Maura,” a cheerful whisper sounded barely audible next to Mau. A few coins tinkled quietly as they fell onto the counter, and two visitors headed for the exit.
She didn't instantly realize what was happening, and raised her head too late. Before the front door slammed shut, all she could see was Rocky wrapping a threadbare blue scarf around his neck with one hand, and gently pushing his cousin toward the street with the other.
The two young men who frequented the eatery, and who were different from most of the visitors, were constantly drawing a lot of suspicious stares. When Rocky had first brought his redheaded cousin to the place a few months ago, it had been noon on a workday, and the workmen who lunched at the eatery had become strangely quiet when the two young men had taken the only available table near the exit. Until that day, Rocky had always sat at that table for some reason, but every time he had been lucky enough to come to the eatery when there were few or no other guests. On his first visit with Calvin, though, it was as if he had deliberately chosen the busiest time of day. Like he wanted them to be noticed. But Rocky had guessed, apparently, that they had attracted too much attention, and since then, alone or with his cousin, he had shown up at the eatery either when honest people were busy working or at closing time, when honest people were getting ready for bed.
Such was the case to-day.
“And the following composition will immerse you…”
With a click of the switch on the radio panel the main room fell into silence. Despite the approaching Christmas, Mau was in a horrible mood, and even with all her love of music, she had no desire to listen to another sickeningly festive song. It was a cloudy, unusually snowy day in St. Louis, and Mau was apparently infected by its grayness, so even her usual chores were draining. Mau's father and the owner of the eatery, Mister Augusto Venza, had been away for a couple of weeks in Chicago on extremely urgent business, so Maura had to serve the clients alone and, moreover, had to meet 1928 all by herself. Though she was rather glad of the latter.
There will be no fuss.
Slowly, one by one, Mau counted the coins that Calvin and Rocky had left as payment for the coffee, and was surprised to find a piece of paper folded several times next to them. Unfolding it, Mau saw some amusing, almost childish, drawings in red crayon. On the first one, she herself was sleeping with a terribly sullen expression in a daisy field under a big, angry raincloud. In the second, Rocky held a sheep, which resembled a cloud of cotton candy and was eagerly munching on that raincloud, above his head, while the cartoonish Mau was already smiling. Next to these sketches was a wry caption:
“Don't be sour! Let sweet dreams eat all the bitter thoughts. R.”
Chuckling, Mau shook her head. She scrutinized the drawing for another minute or so, then sat down on the floor behind the counter and pulled one of the wooden baseboards towards herself.
“Come on, stop being stubborn…”
Finally, the baseboard gave way, revealing a narrow gap at the bottom of the counter that Mau used as a stash for part of her tips. She folded the sheet tighter and put it with the notes Rocky had sometimes left on his previous visits.
The front door suddenly swung open, letting cold air into the room. Mau's heart leapt, and she hastily pushed the wooden flap against the gap, then hastily stood up from the floor and shook off her knees.
“What is it, my dear? Are the spoons running away from you again?” the old Missis Bruno creaked in Italian.
“You have a keen eye,” Mau answered her also in Italian and added: “The usual for you?”
The woman nodded and headed for the far table. As she looked at her, Mau noticed the bright green knitted scarf under her coat and walked to the kitchen to serve Missis Bruno her favorite cheese ravioli.
“You have such a lovely scarf,” she said as she passed by. “Where did you get it?”
“Knitted it myself,” the woman's eyes flashed with pride. “There's some wonderful yarn at Scaffidi's now.”
“You're such a talented needlewoman,” Mau said, putting the pot on the stove. “I can't knit at all.”
The eatery became awkwardly quiet for a moment. Maura's revelation made Missis Bruno squirm uncomfortably in her chair. The mere thought that a woman of Mau’s age could not knit not only disturbed her, but appalled her. From the kitchen, Mau couldn't hear the old woman muttering worryingly to herself:
“Poor girl, there was no one to teach her…”
But even that wasn't enough of an excuse for her. She had friends, neighbors, and yet Maura Venza, at the age of twenty-two, could not knit! It's not a long way to ruin one's fate, thought Missis Bruno, nervously rubbing her napkin in her fingers. No, she could not let it go! A little while later, she said loudly:
“This is just unacceptable. What's your father thinking about? Certainly not that his daughter is so mature and can't knit. That's embarrassing,” her tone changed from condemning to admonishing. “Tell you what, Mau, honey, I'll teach you how to knit. It's easy, you'll see. Mama left you needles and yarn, didn't she?”
“I don't think so. Even if she did, it remained in Kansas City,” Mau lied habitually, barely containing a grin. She was amused at Missis Bruno's attitude toward such things. No wonder, though; things had been different when she had been young. Mau couldn't prove to her that knitting wasn't a required skill now.
“Not good. Not good at all,” the old woman continued to wail. “Back in my days…”
Mau sincerely hoped Missis Bruno hadn't heard the low chuckle that escaped her lips. She pulled a small bag out of the freezer. Knitting. Well now! There was a book she couldn’t finish for more than a month, and today there were mountains of plates, cups, and baking pans to wash. What knitting to think of.
Listening to Missis Bruno half-heartedly, Mau soon put a steaming plate of cheese ravioli with pesto in front of the old lady and returned to the counter. With the toe of her shoe, she again tried to discreetly slide a piece of baseboard back into the gap.
“…and then on Christmas Day…” Missis Bruno persisted. The wooden part wasn't falling into place. Mau frowned and mentally cursed. Why had she even opened the stash in the middle of the day?
Oh, yes, Rocky. Rocky and his funny drawing.
…and his old worn-out scarf.
Mau looked outside the window, watching the snowflakes fall slowly. She rarely got a chance to go outside, but Rocky, given his very specific occupation, had to be out in the cold a lot. And sleeping in the car in this weather must have been uncomfortable, too… it wouldn't take long to get sick. The mere thought of that made Maura uneasy. She pictured him huddled under his coat and a thin, shabby blanket, huddled in the back seat of the car, and she clenched the side of the counter tighter. He had been taking time out of his day for so many months now to come to her and just cheer her up with something: a humorous story, a funny trinket, or a little candy. As if whenever by any means he could find a little bit of warmth somewhere, he had always rushed to share it with her. And now, more than ever, she felt the desire to return that warmth to him a hundredfold. Slipping the teaspoon to the floor, Mau ducked under the counter and pulled back the flap of the stash.
“You know, Missis Bruno… I think you're right. I really should learn to knit. Could I ask you to lend me needles until my father returns and show me how to do it?”
“Of course,” the woman said enthusiastically, obviously pleased that her story had piqued Maura's interest. “Maybe you want to make something specific?”
“A scarf,” Mau answered without hesitation.
“Oh, a scarf is quite simple,” the woman squinted her eyes, smiling broadly. “With my advices, you’ll do it in two evenings. It's the dresses that require all sorts of tricks, but this…”
After a moment, Mau sat down in the chair opposite Missis Bruno and handed her a few crumpled bills. All her tips from the last couple months.
“Good. Can you buy a couple skeins of good yarn for me, please?”
Two evenings was easy to say! A week had passed before Mau could manage to do anything right at all. And Christmas was the day after tomorrow! So little, so little time… Mau yawned. She could hardly keep her eyes open, and therefore even had stopped watching whether the rows of stitches were knitted straight or not. She finished her work only in the morning, and fell asleep, holding her knitting in hands, with the needles dangerously close to her eyes.
And overslept.
In the morning, after freshening herself up, she hastily stuffed the scarf into a bundle of paper and rushed to the eatery. She spent the whole day in anticipation, hoping Rocky would come, and every time the bell over the door jingled, her heart jumped in her chest. Until finally the young man appeared on the doorstep, shaking off the snow from himself.
“Today is on the house, in celebration of Christmas,” she told him, setting coffee and a plate of chocolate pancakes with raspberry jam, garnished with three raspberries and sprinkled with powdered sugar, in front of him. And while Rocky, as if being hypnotized, stared at this gorgeousness and tried to guess if the berries were purposefully arranged in a heart-shaped pattern or not, she shoved the bundle into the pocket of his coat, which hung on the clothes rack behind him.
When Rocky walked out of the Venza family's eatery that evening, he couldn't stop smiling dreamily. He passed by the lamppost, dancing around it, and laughed softly, putting hands into his pockets. To think that Mau had baked pancakes just for him, and damn, what pancakes they were! But… what in the world was that?
He stared in puzzlement at the slanted bundle, and immediately opened it.
Seeing… a scarf.
Or rather, it looked like a scarf, except… the blue stitches wiggled from side to side, the crookedly sewn buttons reminded two eyes, and what should have been white trim on both ends looked more like jagged teeth. If it was a scarf, it was the most ridiculous scarf he had ever seen.
“How did you knit to me, buddy?” Rocky murmured, twirling the knitted mess in his hands. But there was no clue neither on the scarf nor in the paper shreds of the wrapper. Frowning, Rocky looked over his shoulder at the eatery and bit his lip.
Could it be that it was made by Mau?
There was certainly a chance that someone had put the bundle in his coat by accident, but somehow Rocky felt like there was no mistake. It was definitely a present. A self-made Christmas present. From Mau. For him! Rocky straightened the scarf and lifted it as high above his head as his arms could reach, looking at it like at an absolute miracle. The scarf, swaying in the wind, stared up at him with its button eyes and its crooked, white-toothed grin. And Rocky, as he continued his way toward the Little Daisy, smiled broadly back at it.
“Zib, please have mercy,” he kept whimpering, clutching at the man's pant leg. Zib made another attempt to make a step, but after dragging Rocky across the stage floor a little more, he gave up again.
“Kid,” Zib sighed, “if you don't let me go, I'm just going to sit on you.”
“Oh, please! I'll even be your personal horse, taking you out to the audience every night, right under the spotlight…”
Zib gave him a confused look and snorted nervously.
“No, I think I'll pass, thank you.”
“It's a matter of life and death, Zib! What can I do to get you to say yes? I'd do anything. Give anything. Literally. Even my eye teeth.”
“Why on earth are you so damn eager?” The man flailed his arms up. Rocky pulled himself closer to Zibowski's legs, squeezing them like a vise.
“It's just Christmas. I can't resist the urge to do good deeds. What a stale dry man wouldn't be heartbroken at a picture like this? Just imagine: a poor, unfortunate soul burning with a passion for music, but locked in a prison of pots and pans… as the servants of Euterpe, it is our duty to rectify such injustices! Even if only once a year.”
Zib groaned doomedly. He looked down at Rocky tiredly, then up at the ceiling, then back at Rocky, whose blue eyes stared back at him, not even with a plead, but with an almost childlike hope.
“I'm going to regret this…” he muttered, sighing heavily.
The next bright, frosty morning, Mau went down to the eatery and began her routine. She wiped off the dust, pulled open the curtains, opened the window vent, turned on the stove and set a batch of muffins to bake, began to prepare the batter for tomorrow as usual, and then…
…heard the music.
From the street, very close by, came a jaunty jazz tune, accompanied by the singing of several male voices. Mystified, Mau rubbed her hand over the fogged glass of the window and looked outside… no, it couldn't be. She ran out onto the porch and, still not believing her eyes, stared at the whole orchestra on the sidewalk in front of the eatery. When Rocky noticed her, he stepped forward and twirled around himself, playing his violin with an unusually wide smile. Looking at him, Mau laughed warmly and outlined the musicians with her hands, as if silently asking: How? How is this possible? Rocky only fleetingly lowered his gaze, paying her attention to his new scarf, and then winked at her, continuing his improvised dance with the violin.
It was a real wonder.
Soon the music and singing subsided, and Maura, still grinning happily, loudly applauded.
“Bravi! Bravi! Oh, but please hurry inside, I don’t want you all to catch cold! Come on!”
Zib's band could barely fit into the cramped space of the eatery, but that only made the atmosphere more welcoming. When Rocky cheerfully introduced Mau to all the musicians, whose names immediately mixed in her head, she brought out cinnamon coffee for each of them and a vase of ginger cookies to bite until the cupcakes were ready.
“Mind if I smoke?” Zib asked, making himself comfortable in the old chair. Mau shook her head, locking the door. No, there will be no working until the last client today. Today will be only the celebration.
“How could I say no after such an amazing concert? How did you all even sign up for this?”
Zib chuckled, giving Rocky a sly look.
“Well, let's just say he's got a long way to work it off.”
“Oh, it was worth it,” the young man shrugged nonchalantly.
Following the cozy Christmas aromas, the tiny room was filled with stories from Zib's band's past, music and laughter. Mau couldn't remember when she had felt so alive, so it was like a dream. Such a sweet, sweet dream. In her mind, she went back to those distant noisy evenings in New York, when every holiday she and her father celebrated in the large company of the Riva family. When there was no fear or anxiety, when there was warmth and hope in everything. Mau's gaze lingered on Rocky. She didn't understand how he, with all his troubles and hardships, every time managed to do the impossible: even if only for a short period of time, but to bring her back that long-lost hope. But it was then, on that sunny Christmas Eve, when she finally heard in herself undeniably loudly: I love you.
After more than one hour and more than one cup of coffee, after a series of stories and a particularly noisy argument, Sy climbed up on the counter and began to dance and juggle apples to the lively rhythmic clapping…
When suddenly, dumbfounded, with a key in his hand, Augusto Venza appeared on the doorstep.
-🤍 Morderie’s own brand of “domestic fluff”💢-
This was funnier in my head.
Hello! Here have a flower!
Have a wonderful Day/Night!
AHHHH A FLOWER!! I’m sorry for responding late! Thank you for the flower @mivanti03 ! ❤️😊
In return I shall gift you a red shell as a thank you!
Calliope: Recollection
(a poorly drawn mini-comic inspired by a recent convo between yours truly and @ahhhh-118, enjoy!)
Translation:
Cairns family homestead, 1917...
Adeline: Calliope?... Where are you going with that shovel?
Calliope: just gonna go withdraw some money, mum.
Calliope (in mind): just a little money...
A few years earlier...
Robert: Oi, Calli! Where yah goin'?
Calliope: Goin' down to feed the sheep, why?
Callum: *narrows eyes in suspicion*
Robert: You've only got a few more bucks in your allowance, so.yah betta make it count.
Calliope: Yessir!
Calliope (in present mind): *sigh*
Calliope (still in present mind): It's just to keep us fed... I promise I'll pay you back... Someday
For context, this follows an eighteen year old Calliope (aka, when she still had long hair) whose mother approaches her about where she's going. Calliope responds that she's going to withdraw money, but doesn't tell her that she's withdrawing money from the secret stash of money Calli and her brothers had stolen from banks and buried out on their families property (they come from a family of cattle farmers). Calli reminisces to herself about only taking a little, before we're thrown back to a fifteen year old Calli with her two older brothers Robert and Callum. Robert asks Calli where she's going and she responds with lie, of which her brothers catch onto. Robert replying with what he knows she's actually going to do, and says to use the rest of what she has in her 'allowance' wisely. As to make it even they had divided up their loot. Calli salutes him with her shovel before we cut to eighteen year old Calli thinking to herself, this time about how she would pay back her brothers the money she took from them to be able to feed her and her mother while they were away fighting in the great war. If they ever did come home, that is...
Woo, that was a doozy! Sorry for making the post so long 😅, there was just too much info I wanted to stuff in. Thank you so very much to the people that read this far!
With that in mind, have a splendiferous day/night!
@yanci-indigo @sundaesatmidnight @spiky-berry21 and @multiversalgalaxy23 thank you for the tag (you are also my faves!) ! 🥹🥹❤️IT WAS SO HARD TO PICK SONGSSSS!
1. Lovers Rock - TV GIRL
2. Empire Ants - Gorillaz
3. The Cult of Dionysus - The Orion Experience
4. Voulez-Vous - ABBA
5. Thunder Bringer - Epic the Musical (Jorge Rivera-Herrans)
@aghostnamedclamity @rudnitskaia @coffeintheface @akosisab @tohot4u @themissingrainfallkingdom @mivanti03 @my-nostalgia-is-horror @gentlelass @ollenotter27 @omletch @chaotic-starlight24 @yanako-san @samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires
🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool)🎶
Wow..
1. Hayloft II (smashup) - Mother Mother
2. Taste - Skz
3. ITEM - Skz
4. Over you - idk
5. Breakin' dishes - Rihanna
@atlasprefects
@boiling-potato
@xenniboii
@yum-zlurplie
@alinorianddrago
@sayuri-does-skits
@devillemon085
@nia1sworld
@violetstellas-blog
@n0vatsu
AHAHAHAGUSJFZTUXBH- *cough cough* pardon me. Just finished Calli's little character poster after... Multiple hours, and here it is!
Transcription (so sorry for the blurriness 😭):
Born: December 6th, 1899
Murray bridge, South Australia
Born and raised on the murky expanse of the Murray river, Calliope was always one for life on her family's cattle farm. And, undenounced to her parents, the life of a small-time bank robber in the latter half of her teenage years. Considered more wayward and rebellious the older she got, it came as a shock to her when her elder brothers, and father, were enlisted in the armed forces to fight in the great war. Leaving only her and her mother to take care of the farm for the years they were away. And by circumstances of a tragic heartbreak, Calliope left her homeland and became a stowaway on a cargo ship heading for the distant lands of the Americas. In the hopes of finding an opportunity to build a new life for herself.
Though as they always say, old habits die hard. With the young Australian lass getting recruited for little pay in the esteemed Marigold gang. Now both a well-known patron, and a long-time bootlegger. Nothing, and she means nothing, is getting in the way of her current life. Or... That's what she thinks at least.
Living a congenial life on the wooden panels and planks of the Marigold room's backstage area, and being mostly forgotten about by a certain Marigold night manager. Calliope enjoys a plethora of... Interesting activities. Those including: Precarious automobile operating, wrangling with almost any cattle you put in front of her, mending household appliances, and dutifully using a shotgun. Her weapon of choice.
Woo! Thank you for reading all that (if you did), Maeve and Angel are going to be here (hopefully) soon. Feel free to ask any questions!
As always, have a magnificent day/night! 😘
💜 Another of my Lackadaisy ocs 💜
🍀 This is Cassie’s little brother 🐰
Did some oc charts for funsies. Fun fact: Aces eyes dilate when hes lovestruck.
og templates here and here
While I’m still working on the next page and some potential doodles :>
Here is a post of some references for Maríanne’s outfits because I didnt want to to obstruct the comic pages 😭:
1. Maríanne’s day dress, I changed the color because personally, blue didn’t suit her
2. I literally looked up 1920s farmers dress, the blue dress is more or less her uniform.
3. This is the brown cardigan she wears on her life on the road
4. I couldn’t find the exact dress but this is the one that I found closest to the one I drew for baby Marí (I forgot to save the image ;-;)
5. I believe this is the reference I used (I forgot to save this one too…) and the og color was green but since I wanted her “darker moments” to appear more monochromatic it didn’t show up :>
Hey there.
I know this isn't mainly a social platform of writing, and if you don't care for reading my long-ass bullshit, you're free to scroll. But I was very eager to post here a summary of my Oc, Marjorie's Ford life since her birth to when she first joined the Marigold Gang, at least for that couple of people who will care enough to bother reading, since I've always left you in the dark about most of her past up until now. I will make a storyboard with actual drawings to make it more interesting to the eye at some point, but it'll take long, so for now, enjoy what I have to offer.
The recurring year is 1894, and yet another baby girl is born under the prosperous (not for too much longer) Kingdom of Italy. But not just any child, falling short of aristocracy in terms of wealth: daughter to the Opera singer Caterina Casiraghi (Ford) and the handsome but opportunist American notary who snatched the Italian beauty as soon as he saw her, Christian C. Ford. Second to nobody in her own home but her older brother, Malcom Ford, Marjorie was still spoiled and pampered from all sides, and for a while, they were happy.
But of course it was too good to be true, and soon enough Christian's misdeeds came biting back to him, after a life time of biting more than he could chew: the notary and most of his official possessions burnt to ashes in a fire, and although the cause was officially concluded to be an accident, his family knew in their hearts it was nothing but arson: between what remained of the man's belongings, in fact, the wife found multiple letters of a minatory nature coming from some unspecified shady client of the man's, that he had evidently proceeded to ignore. The widow, left on her own with a man to bury and two children to raise, had no choice but to roll up her sleeves, and the broken family spent the next six years of their lives incessantly hopping from place to place, partially for the matron's role she played in different courts across all Europe as a requested and appreciated soprano, partially to avoid meeting the same early end as the late father and husband may his killers spot them if they stop in a single place too long.
Such circumstances weren't the most normal for the youths to grow up in, and the siblings came out as... not any normal really: while the weight of responsibility hung on the eldest's shoulders, stuck in the role of the "man of the house" and becoming gloomier with each day, the younger could only long to receive that much attention. Daughter unsuitable of inheriting anything, too young to get married to another rich man, and with a voice too small to follow her mother's footsteps into the world of Opera, she soon veered towards theater, her frame, just as small as her voice, nimble and agile, her movements graceful, her scenic presence lovely as she had learnt to emulate from her mother. Still feeling the psychological pressure that was truly only inside her own head from being both female and the younger child, where she couldn't follow her mother's footsteps she instead followed her late father's, soon adopting less-than-savory methods to get ahead in her career, eliminating the competition before it even got the chance to become such.
All prestigious careers however have as much of a raise as they are doomed to have a fall, and in 1914, when the Great War officially broke out, the entertainment business collapsed, specially fields as frivolous as dancing and singing, and the next thing which dropped at dizzingly fast speeds was... the Ford Family's bank account.
The Ford widow, ever the loyal mother and wife, used the last funds she had to send her children to their fatherland America like many other immigrants of the time to seek luck and a better life, and we all can imagine what happened to her, next.
The sole survivors of the Ford Family, at this point aged respectively 21 and 23, were soon separated yet again, however: not any more than a few weeks after they had successfully disembarked in Mexico, in fact, the Italian government spotted them, demanding that Malcom came immediately back to motherland to fight in the army along all other male, able-bodied Italian citizens of age. The boy, after a lifetime of accepting responsibilities, had it drilled into his very subconscious by this point to always answer the call of duty without question, and so he did one last time, taking leave from his sister and all the money they had left. He wrote his sister letters and send her more money for some time, directing them to Mexico City where he had left her. After a while however he stopped receiving answers from her altogether, an no sibling ever heard from the other ever since.
This is because Marjorie after some months of permanence in Mexico, working some gigs here and there, plus the money she was receiving from her brother, finally saw an opportunity to build a new life all for herself, where she would be the sun, the star of the scene, rather than a mere moon in the backlight of not one, but TWO suns in her case, both mother and brother. Having been a nomad all her life Marjorie never learnt to truly form bonds and emotional attachments to people, always knowing she'd lose them as soon as she had to move yet again; hence the loss of her mother and the betrayal she inflicted on her brother never weighted much on her mind, or so she tells herself. She traveled all the way up to Missouri, where she soon started working as a maid at a certain Maribel Hotel, where a "kind", if sorta odd fella by the name of Asa Sweet welcomed her in his den in exchange of a mere few favors which would cost Marjorie nothing but a constant smell of bleach on her person, due a variety of reasons, and the sanity she had already long lost anyways.
Opportunist sociopath born out of heritage, of circumstances and most importantly of the intrusive thoughts of inferiority inside her own head nobody ever bothered teaching her the strength to fend off, the rest is history.
Haven't drawn Elizabeth or anything colored in a while now lol
Textless
Always happy to help! ^-^❤️
Both the title card and the fic are beautifully made 🥺 the connections back to Åse’s grandpa has my heart🥹🥹🥹
Finally a fic that includes a cannon character. In this case Viktor, its an exploration of what Viktor thinks of Ace and is written from his perspective. It also discusses his reaction to Ace's gender identity which he has a somewhat reductive view of. I wrote what i think would be the most likely reaction from him considering his age and the environment he grew up in. The story takes place after Ace started working for Atlas but before Atlas died. Ace presented exclusively masculine at this point.
Also thanks so much to @ahhhh-118 for beta reading for me and helping me come up with some ideas for the title card!
Content Warning: mentions of gun violence, serious injury, blood and drugs (medical painkillers)
What the hell was he thinking! Just running in like that, stupid kid. Viktor spared quick glances over to Ace in the passenger seat. He’d slumped to the side and was leaning on the car door window now. Don’t worry just drive. Why was he worried in the first place. He was just some idiot kid he’d been saddled with for the night. It was initially just supposed to be him and Mordecai, but the tuxedo cat had gotten caught up in some other business he had to finish. So the kid had been sent with him as a replacement. He just needed some extra muscle anyway so this would be easy, but apparently not. They'd been ambushed on the side of the road. He’d just let the him out of his sight for a second but suddenly he was right in the middle of all the gunfire. The kid was lucky one bullet was the worst he got. He even tried to wave it off like it wasn't a big deal
‘’Jus’ drop me off at the cafe, I’ll be fine’’ Is what he said.
It was almost tempting. This isn't how Viktor wanted to spend the rest of his afternoon. But if he couldn't trust the kid not to run into open gunfire he knew he probably wouldn't be able to get medical help on his own. Viktor pulled up to what he thought was Ace’s apartment building.
‘’Which is- ‘’
Viktor said as he looked over just to see Ace fiddling with the door handle. He managed to grab the back of his shirt before he could face plant out the door. Once the Slovak managed to get the boy safely back in his seat, he grabbed a coat from the back and got out muttering a foreign curse ot two while quickly making his way to the other side of the car.
‘’Apartment number’’ he said sporting one of his infamous glares.
‘’…407‘’ Ace coughed out.
Viktor offered him a shoulder to lean on but he refused. Why was he so stubborn about this. Ace was usually overly familiar him. He sighed and handed Ace the coat. The kid wrapped it around himself, making sure to cover any signs of his injury. It was almost comical how big it looked on him. Hopefully his neighbors would just think he was drunk, the way he stumbled up to the elevator. With the push of some buttons and a metallic whine they were on their way up. By now Viktor could see the kid was struggling to stand up. As the doors opened he hooked his arm under the smaller cats shoulder.
‘’I said I can-‘’
‘’Now is not time for whining.‘’
The kid grumbled but relented. They made it into the apartment without much trouble. Viktor let Ace down the nearest chair.
‘’Keep pressure on it. I will go call doktor.’’
Ace only nodded. Viktor supposed he was to tired to refuse the help at this point.
A quick call and half an hour later Ace was being seen to by one of Atlas’ on-call medics. They tended to work odd hours usually having to be available to tend to his personnel at any time. Viktor stayed in the kitchen as the older woman worked. It were three rooms in total a bedroom a bathroom and the main entrance room that was also a kitchen. The apartment was competently furnished albeit almost everything was miss-matched. Just the plates sitting in the sink were different colors and materials. The only unusual piece of furniture in the apartment was a almost pristine sewing machine and table. A few shelves hung on the wall in front of it with a robust selection of threads, ribbons and other textile accessories Viktor couldn't name. And a bigger box of fabrics sat underneath the table next to a small stool, that was presumably pulled out when the machine was in use.
Viktors ears twitch as he heard the doctors footsteps exit the bedroom ‘’I removed the bullet, dressed up the wound and gave her some pain killers. I’m about 83% sure the bullet didn't hit anything vital but if she starts spitting blood call me back up.’’ She said with a huff wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve.
‘’She?’’
‘’Yeah you know, in there‘’ gesturing to the room behind them with her thumb.
Viktor blinked a few times brown furrowing in confusion, he opened his mouth about to counter her but the doctor interrupted him seeming to be in a hurry.
‘’She’s stable for now but you should still monitor her. I have a few more stops to make tonight but if she gets worse ill probably be able to make time to come back… probably’’ And with that she was out the door
Viktor stood in the kitchen for a moment contemplating the medic's words. He peaked into the bedroom and he saw Ace lying on the bed near the window wearing a pair of pajamas while his old bloody clothes slung over a the back of a chair, along with what looked some old bandages. It was much clearer to see now that the medic had not been lying.
He retreated back to the kitchen slumping down on by the table as he furrowed his brows. He had always thought there was something off about the kid. He looked remarkably young for a man of 20 and his voice was light and raspy. He could have just been lying about his age. Viktor had raised the the thought to Atlas once but was assured he didn't need to worry about it. He tried not to think about it, he wouldn't be the only teenager in this line of work thats for sure and besides he or she? Had always done their job well for the most part. And it wasn't really any of his business. He had enough to worry about. But he couldn't stop wondering why. why was she here, doing this job. why was she pretending to be a man. Didn't she have a family or something.
He was brought out of his thoughts by a loud thump. Like someone had dropped a sack of potatoes on the ground. Peeking back into the bed room there he was sprawled out on the floor the tip of his tail swishing quickly back and forth in frustration. H-she was trying to push herself up from the ground but couldn't quite manage before it became to painful. Lying on her side holding her ribs, her eyes looked bleary as she noticed Vikor reaching down for her. Viktor gently lifted her up and placed her on her bed. He was about to stand up and leave when a weak hand gripped his forearm.
‘’Jeg vil ikke være alene… jeg er redd’’
He gently tried to shake her off but she was persistent
‘’Nei … morfar…’’
She was completely out of it. Slurring her words and sniffling? He’d never seen her cry. He’d never really seen her show any other strong emotion than erratic glee.
‘’Kan du lukke vinduet?’’
She limply gestured towards the open window to the left. He looked back at her and she seemed almost scared of it. He slowly made his way over and closed it, it seemed to make her more at ease. Victor slowly made his way to the door but was interrupted again
‘’Ikke dra fra meg!’’
She was openly crying now and reaching for him. He sighed and pulled up a chair and sat beside her. She relaxed back into bed.
‘’Kan du synge noe?’’
He thinks she was asking a question by the tone.
‘’Sleep naov, ask later.’’
She looked at him for moment but eventually responded
‘’Det går fint. Så lenge du ikke drar.’’
She closed her eyes and rested her hands between the pillow and her head. She almost looked like a child. Sighing as he looked out the window he though he’d keep an eye on her for a few hours before leaving, and maybe he could confront her about I tomorrow. Then again he didn't wasn't to deal with whatever drama that might cause. He should probably just act like it didn't happen. Maybe he could push her to quit, she had to just have run away from home right. He’d just have to get her to run back. But what if hse didnt have anywhere to run back to, he tried not to dwell on it. This wasn't a place fro her. Åse grunted as she shifted on the bed, her wound clearly bothering her. She looked pitiful.
‘’No place…’’ he muttered softly
A translation of Ace's dialoug at the end:
‘’Jeg vil ikke være alene… jeg er redd’’ - ''I don't want to be alone… I'm scared.''
‘’Nei … morfar…’’ - ''No… Grandpa…''
‘’Kan du lukke vinduet?’’ - ''Can you close the window?''
‘’Ikke dra fra meg!’’ - ''Don't leave me!''
‘’Kan du synge noe?’’ - ''Can you sing something?''
‘’Det går fint. Så lenge du ikke drar.’’ - ''It's fine. As long as you don't leave.''
Authors note: Ive mentioned before that Viktor reminds Ace of his grandpa. They have the have the same body type and bright red fur. And while being very sweet to his family, Ace's grandpa could be similarly grumpy and quiet to other people. In Ace's pain killer addled mind he probably remembered some time in his childhood when his grandpa took care of him when he was sick and confused Viktor for him. Aces grandpa was also liked to sing, which is why Ace makes that request.
I imagine Aces grandpa sounding like Alf Prøysen who is a Norwegian musician among other things. He is probably best remeberd today for the children's music and books he wrote. There are some reference's to his songs and stories in the title card.
I hope i managed to catch all the spelling mistakes and fix up any weird wording lol.
Thanks for the @ @aghostnamedclamity and @yanci-indigo 🫡
Wow two of my hyper fixations in one picture 😭😭 Olive Branch is good and it helps me with stories
STREAM EPIC THE MUSICAL: THUNDER SAGA
IT SLAYS I LOVE IT
LISTEN TO EPIC THE MUSICAL. PERIOD.😫😫❤️❤️
Also oh no Yanci 😭😭Bruh why do so many of these creeps exists? 😭😭
Anyway, join in if y’all want to :>
@akosisab @gentlelass @chaotic-starlight24 @my-nostalgia-is-horror @themissingrainfallkingdom @mivanti03 @ollenotter27 @omletch @rudnitskaia @yanci-indigo @acesandocs @spiky-berry21 @sundaesatmidnight
@transfemininomenon tagged me to share my top 5 songs I have on repeat rn!
i'm gonna tagggg @chapst1ckmcdyke @lisanees @paopujuice @saturniidaedyke and @princesspinhead 💖
THEY’RE SO CUTE
I cackled at #2 like Rosemary’s ⚫️〰️⚫️ is amazing Lmaoooo
Porcupine and a honey badger
Y’ALL WTF?! 😭😭 WHERE DID SHE GO??? Like please tell me this is just me dawg cuz she got deactivated again.
I love all of my mutuals ❤️
Y’all are amazing people 🥹
It’s good to see you back 🤧 and thank you for blessing us with the Maine nostalgia 🥹🥹
That animation WIP looks very yummy too 😤 the hair animation???
To all the lovely peeps who welcomed me back tysm 💜💜💜
It feels nice knowing ppl who I havent met irl also cared 😭💜
so lemme show u my animation wip:>
Oh and
*yeets a bunch of nostalgic Maine/Garret&Graham + my fanarts*
Imma post part 2 lol
Part 2
now for the lovely ppl who will be struck by my nostalgia:
@yanci-indigo @akosisab @ahhhh-118 @rudnitskaia @acesandocs @aghostnamedcalamity @tohot4u @mivanti03
Imma just drop this OC sketch of my boi mwhehehe
@zzanimazz WELCOME BACK!! 🎉🎉🎉 ✨✨
I hope everything is alright dude!
we all grieve in our own way
for real tho i really hope theyre doing ok and im just projecting
@tohot4u @aghostnamedcalamity @mivant03 @yanci-indigo
*In Walter White’s voice* Someone cooked here.
THIS KICKED ASS THO!!! Like the fighting scenes??!! I live for the manga style 🙇♀️ it’s amazing!!
I also love how they just ran for the hills at the end 😭😭 lmao
Can’t wait to see what you make next!!
Finally finished my first ever oneshot comic! Not really too deep of a story since I am again learning to make chapters before I work on Adam and Elizabeth's story ;). I highly recommend reading this zoomed in instead of scrolling.
The beginnings of one of the most dangerous men in early 1900s Chicago. Antonio and his crew are gonna climb their way to the top of the criminal underworld.
This was pretty fun ngl haha, even if it took like a month and the backgrounds were super lacking. Might continue this story or start with Adam and Elizabeth's chapter 1 next.
🩰🎀 Finished drawing Silvia Lovelace! 🎀🩰
It was a challenge for me to adapt Mau to the style of the Lackadaisy pilot, especially because my own artstyle is very different. But it turned out to be a very interesting and useful exercise. :3 Love the result. ✨
I have no excuses for this tho :D
THE LAD
✨Benjamin Footlight✨
@aghostnamedclamity @yanci-indigo @funfairsundaes @ollenotter27 @akosisab @mivanti03 @spiky-berry21 IM TAGGING YALL RIGHT BACK CUZ YOU’RE WONDERFUL TOO 😤😤❤️❤️
And heres some more wonderful mutuals of mine to add to the list!!
@rudnitskaia @themissingrainfallkingdom @gentlelass @mysticarts @chaotic-starlight24 @my-nostalgia-is-horror @red42453 @samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires @acesandocs
And MANY MANY MORE AMAZING MUTUALS/ARTISTS >:0 YALL ROCK❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨
SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL KEEP THE GAME GOING 💛💛💛
RAHH OKAY‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
@heyoitseragon @augustbutalsoaugust @yeeravioli @bananaballs21 @themostfangtastic @millkky @dilemma-danger @alchemicalwerewolf @oddvanilla
Do you have any Amber backstory or lore you'd like to share? np if not. im just really curious about her :3
Hellooo!! I do have a backstory for her in mind, but I was so lazy (again) to write anything on a paper and just basically revise everything mentally. Her backstory isn't final btw but I can share some bits with you.
Since Amber was adopted, of course she has biological parents lmao but that was the other topic for her lore.
Amber was originally named Mayumi Sanchez and was born on September 21, 1902 in Sonora, Mexico. She and her parents left the country and decided to live in Oklahoma for a new life.
(I searched the Mexican History just so her lore will makes sense, but I also make sure to not get too political here huhu. I may not be a Mexican, but their history feeds my curiosity so BAHAHAHAH)
As they landed on Oklahoma, everything went well. They got a house to shelter on, and enough money for their necessities. That is until Amber have to stop studying at school due to financial problems. Her father had to find a better job with a decent salary, yet it was difficult for him to find one. On the other hand, her mother stayed on their house to look after her. Her mother was actually a teacher back in the Philippines so she teaches Amber more things (useful or practical ones!).
A tragedy fell on the Sanchez family when a fire spread inside their house. Not sure how it happened or where it started, but Amber managed to survive. Unfortunately, her parents didn't make it (rest their souls), and Amber ended up being an orphan after that. Amber had a blurry memory of that tradegy until she remembers it again in the main plot (which is another different story).
Amber stayed at one of the orphanages in Oklahoma in around a few months before she was adopted. In her experiences in those months, she didn't have a good time, but that doesn't mean she had a bad time either. She hated the food there, as she can describe them as "stale with a hint of metal", and she missed her mother's dishes. She made some friends but there are some bullies too. There is this one girl who grabbed the scissors and just cut Amber's hair just because she is "weird". Don't worry, she fought back.