I’m sorry for leaving the game early, but after going through a major level 4 flood in my town I’m exhausted from anxiety and lack of sleep. So, I’m cautiously stepping out of Art Fight this year. I had fun making the five artworks I was able to and enjoined everyone’s oc’s. They were all amazing! And I LOVED all the little lores behind them. I’m hoping I’ll be able to participate in Art Fight next year and maybe make more attacks.
But as of right now I’m exhausted and still a bit anxious to sleep during the night since that’s when things can get dangerous. And dude to my heart condition it physical hurt when I’m feeling anxious or being startled. I don’t take medicine for it, but I find different ways to help myself when it gets triggered.
Over the course of the 3 day flood we had three weak tornadoes, and rising water blocking all roads to evacuate the town. So there was no way in and no way out. We did have shelters in each scattered safe zone, in total: 3 shelters. As of how many inches of the flooded water, it was 20 as we were given rain over the three days of 10-15 rain fall. All it somewhat well now as of 7/17/26, but the rivers and creeks may rise again as floods can be unpredictable.
Just wanted to give an update about this and why I will be leaving art fight and taking a small break from posting bi weekly on Wednesday and Saturdays. I hope everyone else are doing okay and are just as safe as they can be 💜💜🫶✨
Pictures of the flood
In total there is 17 weather alerts but trust me there were more than that. The 17 count was only for the first night of day one through the whole day and night of the second and third day
Hello, Hello!! I'm sooooooo excited to be here! I had tumbler for a minute now and I've mostly been reading on it instead of actually post, but since I'm an artist and mostly post on instagram, i thought I'll give it a try here. Recently, I got into writing again, and i thought about posting them here while i also took writing request. I just think it would be fun in general :D
My writing is a bit rusty, but I'll learn on the way ^^
For now, hears some of my art to look at while i make a cover for both my books!
Ngl my nerves in my hand are starting to hurt all the way to my waist from the small amount of drawings I’m able to do for Art Fight, I might need to take a break after my next batch or continue again on the last week of Art Fight :/
Though, if it does get worse then I might have to quit Art Fight all together ( Sorry Team Mystery! 😭🫶💜)
(Yes I’ve noticed I forgot to put the “_” between Goldie Fantasy, it just slipped my mind at that moment)
A/n: I decided to post ch.1 here as well since it didn't look too long, and im happy to listen to any feedback yall can think of. I'm already six pages into Ch.2, so keep that in mind! ^^ <3 reminder: My art trades are still open to all artists and beginners. Just comment or message me if you would like to join in ^-^
Cw: minor blood caused by nosebleeds and detailed sensories of flashing memories
Characters: My oc, Violeta, Professor X, Jean, and Logan
The school is peacefully quiet this evening. The sun pressed warm kisses against Violeta's cheek through the mirror reflection, casting a warm golden light over the room. Xavier searched his desk drawers, looking for something specific. Violeta took notice of the contusions rummaging sounds of flipping papers, opening drawers, and the occasional puzzled hums.
"Did you lose somethin'?"
She softly questioned, leaving her seat beside Xavier's desk she set her textbook and small note down on the desk edge. Her gaze skimmed over the dark wooden surface of the desk, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She was sure she set everything in the right places just like every morning. What could he be lookin' for? She thought, now trying to decipher what he could be looking for so eagerly.
"Oh, it's nothing important. Just seeing if I can remember where I left it."
"But.. if it's not important. Why look for it?" She raised one brow at him, confused but curious to why he's continuing to look. Then again what is that he would want to find again just to lose it. Her hand moved behind her neck to subtly scratch a small spot.
"Wouldn't you still look for something you lost before just to find if it's still there? Maybe even trace back your steps?" He stopped his search, now looking up at the puzzled expression that set itself on Violeta's face. She stammered mentally trying to think of what to say. An opinion at most but her mind seemed empty. She doesn't notice how her vision blurred or the high pitched ringing going through her head.
Xavier noticed her distant gaze, those empty crimson red orbits staring off to the void. He waited just a moment to see if she could get out of this state herself this time. Eventually, he makes a sharp knock against his desk. She glanced away from him, taking a sweep of her eyes across the room. Only to look back at him confused at what he had asked her before or what they were talking about.
"Um, yes?"
"What did you lose to search for again?"
She looks at him for a second before once again looking away. She knows he's onto something, but she can't help how his question stammered her thoughts. It almost hurts trying to answer him or even just think. She didn't even notice how long she's been thinking right now. What should I say? I can't think of anything. Why can't I think of anything?
"Violeta?"
"Hm?."
"Did you lose something?" Xavier spoke softly to her. She can see his method of trying to seek out what she can't remember. Something in her aches. Making her feel ill, anxious, and guilty over something she can't remember.
"I don't know, I don't know what it could be by this point.." She admitted in a faint mummer, the sinking feeling rested heavily in her throat and chest. She doesn't notice the cold touch her fingertips now hold. It was an odd feeling. Yes, she knew how saddest felt and anxiety, but this feeling was like drowning in thick water without a way to escape.
"Do you recall what it could be?"
"I.. uh-.. no, sir."
She watches his expression slowly shift to concern. She knows he's thinking, answering his own question with more questions and theories, and she's just following along despite feeling like she wants to pull away. She doesn't know what else to do besides follow along.
A few days go by since the session with Professor Xavier. Even then she still couldn't come up with a response nor a thought to his questions. Even Jean made her attempt to figure Violeta out, but Violeta sees Jean has a different reasoning to be questioning her. Violeta almost always feels her fiery gaze on her anywhere she goes. Even when Violeta does as told by Professor Xavier and Scott, she seems to never shake off Jean's gaze. Violeta doesn't believe she's doing anything wrong. She follows everything she's told to do, every step, agreements and disagreement, but it never seems to satisfy Jean.
She couldn't understand what it could be. Even now while she's cooking with Jean's assistants. Her lip quivered, wanting to say something but feeling it's not the right moment, but she needed to be sure.
"J-Jean, do you mind if I ask you something?"
"Sure, what's bothering you?"
"Um, nothing too concerning, just curious about what you think about the mission next week with me coming along."
Violeta spoke softly, now regretting speaking as she watched Jean dice the freshly skinned potatoes. Violeta's gaze remained on the chopping board while she kneaded the seasoned ground meat in the silver bowl. The kitchen is well lit from the afternoon sun, thankfully it won't be hot out this time so it saves them from overheating in the kitchen. Jean hummed into a sigh while continuing her dicing.
"It'll be busy that's for sure, but I think as long as you don't tire yourself out. We'll be fine. Are you nervous?"
"A bit."
"What are you thinking?"
Jean pauses her work on the potato, setting the knife down beside the cutting board. She looks up at Violeta's eyes. Violeta meets her gaze from the other side of the kitchen counter. There's that feeling again. It strikingly baffles her mind in a clear shot.
"Uh, it sounds busy.. with Mystic and the rest of her friends."
"We'll just need to be careful around them, but we'll make it through just like always. I mean it'll be better than just being our medic on the field, right?"
"Right.."
"Is something wrong?" Jean leans against the counter, resting her hand in front of her on the counter top surface. Her lips parted in a slight smile followed by how her head subtly tilted to her right. She noticed Jean's emerald eyes skimmed over her crimson eyes, likely searching for something she couldn't find.
"No.., why?"
"Just asking, you're so quiet it's hard to pinpoint how you feel about things. Were you.. always like that?"
"Uh.. not that I can recall. Just been this way since living with Magneto."
Jean nodded, her gaze slowly descended to Violeta's hands. How the small scares patterned over her skin- with a story waiting to be told. Violeta watches with a slight frown of suspicion. She shifted her hands out of view, overlapping her less scared hand on top of her left hand. Jean's eyes return back up to meet Violeta's.
"Figured.., Anyways, I got the sheet pan ready for the meatloaf. It was nice cooking with you, Vi."
"Oh, Thank you. M-maybe later on we can make dinner together, if you want to."
"Sure, then we can talk more about the mission."
Jean gives Violeta a friendly smile, before stepping away with the freshly diced potatoes. Violeta carefully forms the ground meat into a loaf shape then wrapped it into foil, and lastly carefully setting the wrapped loaf on the sheet pan. Maybe talking to Jean would make her less suspicious of me. Maybe she can stop watching over me like a hawk, but still it doesn't answer why she doesn't trust me fully like the others. At least with them they're not as alert with me as she is. She thinks, not noticing Jean's thoughtful gaze watching over her as she sets the panned meatloaf in the heated oven. By the time Violeta finally straightened up again. She sees Jean is no longer in the kitchen with her. The room is empty again with the only sound being the boiling pot of potatoes.
Suddenly a pained hum slips from Violeta's lips. An almost stinging or even close to a burning pinch struck her head. Ugh.., another headache this week? When can I just get a normal day? She leaves the kitchen in quiet steps, swaying slightly up the stairway to her bedroom hoping to lay her head down to rest. The headaches could've been from exhaustion she's been experiencing lately, yet they seem to happen almost every time she's around Jean or Professor Xavier. Violeta's fingertips carefully caressed against her warm heated temple. It didn't help that the pinching pain had spread from her right temple to the whole front of her forehead, at least it was some sort of comfort even if it was little to no help. Her sluggish steppes finally made their way into her bedroom. She didn't have much to decorate her bedroom besides the already existing furniture when she moved in a couple months ago. Stepping into her simple room, her sleepy gaze finds a few items that aren't hers. A deck of cards with a unique hearts and bows design theme, a cow plushie with a soft and thick fluffy pink blanket, and lastly one item she thought she had lost in Brotherhood. A bow covered in white laced flowers woven into the dark green fabric.
Stepping closer to her neatly made bed where all the items rested. She hesitantly reaches out to the bow, her breath stills, much less than her trembling hands. Her gaze traced over the delicate lace flower petals before her fingertips could. A silence takes over the room, something of familiarity lingers in her mind as she holds the bow in her hands, holding with care like a snowflake she held many times, but never this careful. She stood with a soft frown. A feeling draws her out from reality pulling her into an abyss swallowing her whole greedily. A static wave washes through her causing her to forget about the pain she once felt earlier. She knew who gave her this gift. Now and from before. However, before she could think of anything else the room began to spin, the air felt thick with heat. The once bright lit room began to darken within seconds until her eyes finally rolled back without her command. Her body falls unconscious onto her bed once the unseen matter consumes her into a forced slumber.
Later that late evening, Violeta wakes up from her unconscious state, feeling dazed yet confused and eased from her earlier tensions. Slowly sitting up with the green bow still in hand. Her thoughts return to the topic of the bow, yet now she simply can't bring her thoughts from its fog. Wondering what else she can remember from the past. She thinks of everything and everywhere that may hold memories for her, but at last she comes to another sleepy dead end and decides to go for a walk. Desperately needing to wake up from this draining feeling for this new memory. Violeta leaves the manner on to a long and far walk. Arriving at her special spot on a beach side.
Approaching the heated sand with a small drag of her boots, she stood at the sea sores' glissing waves, skies painted in warm hues of red and deep blues with shy stars peeking over the cotton clouds. Waves calmly rolled in with the salt breeze, barely enough to blow a leaf away from where it falls. She stared off into the horizon of the waves, how they lazily move in one. It's alluring, a call to something she can't recognize, still something she can't grasp onto yet. She shifted closer, one step at a time, interrupting the waves pattern with her boots as she moved forward. However, her movement pauses with hesitation, her mind telling her to stop while her gut encourages her to keep moving.
Thinking back to Xaviers' words, she searched the beach, searching for what she could've lost. Searching for other memories. The dark green bow rests in her hand with a delicate hold. What if this isn't the right palace? Or maybe this is just another blank space to just forget about. What memory would even lie here of all places? She thought, releasing an annoyed sigh of her inability to recall any further details before everything fell dark.
"Why should I even bother looking? Is it even worth fighting for.. just to remember and then what? Just to fight again and again for different teams. ...Be used and then left behind?" She sighed, raking her fingers through her red and white curls. Her gaze slowly moved from the horizon. Something is pulling at her to move closer. Still she can't think of what it could even be. She can't recall anything from the horizon without getting a static feeling all over again.
"Maybe.., I like swimming? ..But I rarely do that after the last time. What.. else do people do on a beach?" She mummers into whispers as she turns around, facing the opened body of sand. She thinks over a few lists of things people do on the beach from the sand to the water, but none she can ever recall doing. Either way she continues to think of various activities someone may do on a beach day. From partying to relaxation, from the depth of the waters to the heated sand for volleyball. Her mind becomes a test of history, running every book and movie she seen to picture a scene. If old cartoons were true to nature then she would see the black steam coming from her ears.
After several hours of turning her mind over, she settled down on the warm sand, legs stretched out and mentally fatigued from dead ends. She thought about the beach, so surely there would've been a reason to be here. She could think of other activities or scenarios that could happen on the beach or..., this could've been all for nothing. Just another impasse-another reason to believe why she can't have her memories. Another reason to believe it's pointless just as much as she is to the team. Her gloved hands rest loosely in her lap as a lost, defeated gaze sets its place under her fallen gaze. She slowly traced her thumb over the white lace bow she held, lightly grazing her fingertip over the carefully stitched flower design. Her brows deepen while her hold loosened. Her vision becomes blurred with tears glossing over her wistful stare, making her look up, not wanting them to fall this time.
Upon looking up at the dazzling light of small flames illuminating the deep sapphire skyline like a sea from above. She sees the sparkling stars of various colors, taking a moment in awe to admire each one of them and its beauty. How they look like diamonds sparkling far away in the vast ocean of space. In peace, how she wants to know how that feels. Like a star continuing to burn without bursting to its new state of life. She slowly lets herself lay back against the warm sand, letting it be her cushioned blanket from the chilling breeze. She eyed over the various constellations, one thing she could lose and find again, over and over again. Then she sees it, those vivid constellations far in the distances. The static feeling starts again but this time she ignores them; even if they grew stronger. She slowly sat up before carefully standing. She moved closer, the memory of those stars, just those three stars alone made her quake.
Her throat became tight after exhaling her last breath. Fragments of memories tried to flood in all at once; making her head ache just as much as her chest. Her eyes widened in realization, cold waves rushed down nerves, causing her systems to freeze on command. The static feeling wasn't just a feeling anymore-It was a forcing hold against her. Her vision blurred while burning movie taps rushed through her. She sees: faces, places, and a yard with more than enough space. She took a needed breath that was more like a hushed gasp before it all went quiet. Not a wave could be heard. Not even a ringing tone in her ear could be heard. Her mind began flashing white light like ragging thunder for a moment in the void. Red clouds fogged her thoughts and choked her lungs like a plague.
Then everything went black.
She can hear voices but she knows she's alone. The voice doesn't match anyone she knows. It's faint now, a whisper in her ear.
"Don't worry, we'll see each other again. Just get some rest and I'll call tomorrow." The voice was a blur. Echoing in the abyss, yet a foreign comfort. A promising trust from all the others lies in the world. Soon the voice is gone like wind.
Everything is quiet.
It's still dark in the void. Not a single light flashing as before.
Her body laid cold on the shoreline, the only warmth being the red stream slowly trickling down her nose, pooling against her cheek and staining the sand against the side of her face. The salt water washed against her head, soaking her calico hair in the looks of spilled paint.
Long hours had passed as the morning light began to rise, the warm rays spilled through shut curtains. Violeta began to stir, she knew this wasn't her bed. There's no way she would ever smoke cigars like this man does. At least he kept his bed cozy enough to be comfortable. Her eyes flutter open to the darkly dim room, dark smokes rolling out through the window from the corner of the room. Sitting in that corner by the window was a short but muscular man. Just by his gaze he was a serious man but nothing cold like some would assume. She knew he can be grumpy most of the time, but he was wise from his long years through the decades.
"How's your head?" a gruffed voice breaks through the silence. Logan stayed lounging in his recliner, laid back and legs spread out without care. The cigar stayed nuzzled between his lips. If she was half asleep right now she would have mistaken the blue eye man as a smoke breathing dragon. She brushed a strand of white curl behind her ear as she shifted in her spot to sit up right.
"A little sore..." She took a glimpse of him from the corner of her eyes before her gaze dropped to her hands, seeing they were empty. In a bit of panic her eyes quickly searched around her. Discreetly feeling her jean pockets while her vision dashed towards his side table by his bedroom door. A cold chill slowly crawled down her neck to the pit of her stomach, her steady heart was now dashing against her ribcage with demands to leap out. She pulls the covers off her legs, tossing the quilt to the side in search of her bow.
"U-uh, Logan wher-" Her voice trailed off once his voice came over hers, causing her to freeze in place.
"Relax, Snow. I put it in your room." He said through a dark puff of smoke, reassuring her frantic mind. She looked over to him with slight ease in her chest at his effort of soothing her anxious nerves.
"The green bow?." She softly asked, just to be sure that's what he's referring to.
"Yeah." He took another long drag from his cigar, holding in the smoke like it's supposed to add flavor. Eventually, he'll slowly blow the smoke out the window before speaking again.
"Put it in your room after dropping you here." He shifted his light blue eyes over to her wide doe eyes. She noticed his gaze making a sweep over her frame and scares. Self-consciously she adjusted her gloves over her scared wrists away from his gaze.
"How come you didn't just put me in my room?"
"'Cause you're heavy to carry?" He raised a brow as he put out his cigar in the ash tray.
"Too much for your small self?" She muttered quietly, moving off the bed as Logan huffed a chuckle. He watches over her for a moment longer before pushing out of his seat, pottering over to her side all while his blue eyes wander over her face.
"Are you sure you should be standing?"
"I don't see why I shouldn't?" Her gaze lowered towardsLogans's level, brow raised with a soft frown. Unsure of his weary expression he tried to cover.
"Just don't overwork yourself now that you're up, and stop going out without sayin' anything to anyone.. Or at least leave a note or somethin'. What were you doing out there anyways?"
Violeta relaxes her gaze but still holds a bit of speculation. Did she miss something earlier when she was asleep? All she did was sit down in the sand and from there she must have drifted off from the warm sand. All while looking at the stats, they were pretty that night.
"Just star gazing.." She earned herself a huffed growl from Logan as he stepped in front of her.
"With a bloody nose? Snow, you think I'm clueless? Who was there?"
"No one, It was just me there. I wasn't followed or ambushed and yes, I stayed out of open views. Before you ask, no, I'm not having any trouble with the others."
"So you just coincidentally passed out with a bloody nose, is that what you're saying?"
"Well no.. I didn't realize I had a bloody nose or.. I just fell asleep."
"We really got to get you checked out. You should let us too. I told you Hanks is good at what he does." He offers. Violeta glanced away at that thought, slightly biting her bottom lip with a squamish look.
"I'm.. fine, Logan. This is just a one time thing anyways." She anxiously picked at her gloves. Her breathing slows while a sick feeling sinks down her throat to the pit of her stomach. She knows Logan can hear her heart slowing, how her lungs felt like it may burst.
"Bleeding out your nose or passing out by the water? One of those things hasn't just been a one time thing, Snow." He folded his muscular arms over his broad chest. A stern gaze makes its place known on his face. Dark brows narrowed with a hint of softness to them. Violeta kept her gaze down, her thumb working in rough caress on her right hand knuckles.
"I just need more rest, that's all." She hesitates to add more but freezes. Her lips shut in a thin line.
"At least a check up. It'll just be five minutes."
Violeta quickly shakes her head with a quiet mumble even Logan couldn't hear. She swiftly stepped around Logan and made herself scarce from the room. Suddenly she was tugged back to him, his grip wasn't rough but still firm with a gentle edge.
"Vi." a low hum rumbled through his chest he looked at her even if she was looking away. Lost again in a new thought. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor boards. Finding the grooves of the wooden board is more important than the idea of getting checked up.
"Not right now, Logan. I'm not ready to go to that place yet-"
"Why?"
"I can't remember.. But I know it's not a good feeling."
"What can you remember? Besides the brotherhood. Besides Magneto's lessons."
"I told you before there's nothing else! What do you expect me to say?"
"Hmph, guess nothin'.. Still, it doesn't hurt to try to at least go near the lab. Can't risk you passin' out during missions like you do." He releases her arm, letting his hand return to his side. She watches his gaze drop from hers, guilt began to seep in from her outbursts. She didn't mean to, but it was already done from what effect it may have caused.
"I'm just... I'm not ready yet." Her mummer was quiet again, softer than before.
"I'll go with you if that's what you need."
"Does that make you feel better, too?" She tilts her head to the side. The corner of her lips slightly lift to a soft smile. Logan huffed but couldn't help a slight smile.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, I was just offering to the chicken here" He playful jab at her previous anxious feeling.
"If you knew the feelings I get then maybe you'll understand why I wouldn't go near any lab."
He sighs with a slight tilt of his head. Violeta crossed her arms over chest. Her brows narrowed just a bit to cause soft creases. Even her foot gave a small stomp to her offense.
"Relax Snow, just messing with ya. But really, you need to face it for your own good. Even if it scars you to the bone. You can't run from everything just because it scares you or hurt you in the past. You're somewhere new now. Not every place will be the same as the last and if it is then you should know how to handle it to get past it."
"...What if I don't know how to? Even if I had the courage to face it, how would I even know what to do to protect myself if I can't even remember the past?"
"Then don't run into situations too quickly. Walk into them instead. At least that way you'll have time to back out."
In a quiet whisper she spoke, gaze lingering to the floor again. "Wouldn't that make me a coward?" There was a pause between them. For just a moment before the grumpy man suddenly spoke into a softer tone.
"No, ..it doesn't make you a coward for making smart choices just to avoid unnecessary risks." His hand hesitated for a moment in silence before he reluctantly let it rest on top of her shoulder. Violeta took a glimpse at him, a weary look compared to his gentle gaze over her. He sighed at her doe eye look and the slightly quivering bottom lip. He pulled her into an embrace. Despite their height she lowered her knees just enough to rest her cheek against his shoulder.
"I'm.. I'm scared. I don't, I don't want to go to the lab." She mumbles, letting her arm rest around his back in a loose hold.
"...We'll figure something out for you. We just can't leave you like this."
"Is there something wrong with me?"
A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest. "Maybe, we won't know until you let Hank help you."
She smiles a bit at his efforts to remain distant knowing his comforting hold said otherwise. Something she wouldn't want to forget about with him. She doesn't understand why the lab gave her so much fear when she faced other things, and saw plenty of horror films, but the lab? It feels like the devil's clawed hands trail along exposed nerves and tissues, picking at each blood vessel because he can. The thought of him waiting in the dark halls for her to stumble into makes her petrified to even look near the hall. Afraid he may wave at her again.
Soon… once Art Fight is over I’ll be able to post more NightWaves 😞
I have some drawings ideas I want to do for them, it all depends how I feel after AF and a commission I have… and the five projects I still need to finish , But no worries! As long as I have coffee i think I’ll be okay
Heh.. I might post some of Vi x Kurt here soon too. I already have a list tho I want to add a few more little stories :3
Y’all… Art Fight is really kicking my ass rn 💀BUT!!! THAT WONT STOP ME FROM WRITING FANFICS >:3 so far I fished 1/3 request. The first one being “Violeta and Kurt meeting for the first time”
Second: “Violeta and Kurt’s wedding “
And third: “Kurt finding Readers in a fighting cage”
Drop some more request if you like something specific <3
I’m mostly into X-Men rn but I’ll branch out and do some research for any character 🫶💜
Also my Art Fight is; Goldie_Fantasy is anyone wants me to attack them <3
The game for Violeta is called, The Weeping Soldier, or most commonly known as, The Missing Soldier.
As said before Vi didn’t approve of the game the students made of her and the rumors they have passed around, and even add bits and pieces of their own thoughts to it. However, part of the rumors were never proven true as well as the stories that was told to many, but coming to knowledge of those rumors not many decided to be on her side as they weren’t even sure if they could trust her. Yet, they still keep her there at the school for the safety benefits.
Nonetheless, Vi would put herself in constant workload and taking on multiple missions a day just to show she just wants to help. She used to be a teacher at the school before stepping down to just be the school’s nurse. The few, and very few, members of the x-men did side with her, but by that time she had already made up her mind and came down with the decision to leave unnoticed.
If it’s not clear yet I mostly come up with an idea and work on it over time and adjust it in that time after I post it. Only because it helps me keep tracks of things. Basically using the space as a big notebook for my ideas that I can still edit to while also still putting it out there.
The game for Violeta is called, The Weeping Soldier, or most commonly known as, The Missing Soldier.
As said before Vi didn’t approve of the game the students made of her and the rumors they have passed around, and even add bits and pieces of their own thoughts to it. However, part of the rumors were never proven true as well as the stories that was told to many, but coming to knowledge of those rumors not many decided to be on her side as they weren’t even sure if they could trust her. Yet, they still keep her there at the school for the safety benefits.
Nonetheless, Vi would put herself in constant workload and taking on multiple missions a day just to show she just wants to help. She used to be a teacher at the school before stepping down to just be the school’s nurse. The few, and very few, members of the x-men did side with her, but by that time she had already made up her mind and came down with the decision to leave unnoticed.
In Violeta’s preteen years of becoming Soldier M, they were made to train most of the days while also being upgraded to be the perfect Sentinel's for mankind, and what better way to do that than to take the strongest mutans to become humanity protection by control.
Changing their views on mutans to see them as their enemies. Soldier M were trained to fight along side The Sentinels and keep the word at peac.
However, before the program can officially announce their proposal. An unwelcome visitor found them, and only a few, very few, made it out. As of how many soldiers made it out during evacuation. Only one has been known.
Also I made a little spooky game that the X-men students play after hear rumors of her past. She wasn’t a fan of the game only because of how dangerous it was to be set on the beach during a midnight storm. And to be close to the waters during the storm for even just a second is just as dangerous as getting in.
So, I was kind of thinking about writing a Kurt x reader fanfic but I lok don’t know what to write it about. Also i might start posting about Violeta here too since I know some of y’all at enjoying her story so far.
I probably won’t post any spoilers though 😅 just some facts and clues for y’all to figure it out ☺️ Maybe I’ll write Violeta x reader fanfic??? Would that be interesting?
The True Scale of Riften: Skyrim in UNREAL ENGINE 5! [4K]
Back to the Main-Doc: TES:V - Niemand Timeline - MASTER
CHILDHOOD — THE HONORHALL ORPHANAGE, RIFTEN 4E 174 - 4E 187
Skyrim:Honorhall Orphanage
Arriving at Honorhall Orphanage with nothing, the infant carried no name, no family history, no lead to anyone who'd take care of her. There wasn't much anyone could've done; at last, the baby would survive just because a farmer's wife knocked at the door with a bundle of cloth in her hands, and a brief, uncomfortable explanation before she left and didn't look back. The icy rain rattled against the decaying roof, accompanied by the steady plink of leaks dripping into buckets and the desperate attempts of other children feeding tinder to a dying fire just to keep from freezing.
Begrudgingly, Grelod the Kind accepted the wailing child the way she accepted all of them: as income, and as an inconvenience. To the people of Riften, Grelod was a fixture — the stern but necessary woman who kept the orphanage running, because nobody else would. Her nickname was ironic, and everyone in the city was perfectly aware of it. What they were less eager to examine was what that irony actually implied. The guards knew. The merchants knew. Nobody did anything despite knowing better. No matter the beauty of the area, Riften had a way of looking the other way when it was convenient — and brought coin…
Behind closed doors, Grelod didn't get up in the night when the infant cried. Instead, she bellowed at the poor thing, locked it in the basement or the closet, and told the other children to keep the piece of shit quiet.
"If you don't shut that brat up, none of you eat for a week, you hear me?" Grelod bellowed, slapping small Vex straight across the face when she didn't move fast enough for the hag's liking. "And make sure the thing keeps its quiet, or I'll make sure of it!"
Grelod didn't feed her on schedule either, which only made the infant scream and cry harder and worsened the situation. "Gods forbid — what does the thing want now?! Brynjolf! Ranveig! Tova!! Vex!!!! Get a move on, or I'll —" Without finishing the sentence, Grelod took a wooden stick to whichever child was nearest, swinging hard enough to bruise. More than once, the stick came down on the baby as well…
"Shhhh. Shhhh, little one. 'S all right. Look, here — warm milk and a bit of porridge. Ground it real fine. Try it, please?" Murmuring soft under her breath, little Vex rocked the small thing on her hip before passing her on to the next pair of arms when hers gave out. They did their best to keep her quiet enough that she wouldn't be punished again — often using their own bodies to take the hits that would otherwise have landed on an entirely helpless newborn. Grelod didn't offer milk. She didn't offer a blanket. Grelod didn't change her diapers, didn't hold her, didn't speak to her with anything resembling warmth. What she did do was slam doors, bark at the other children to deal with the noise, and make it abundantly clear that a baby wasn't her problem unless it was being loud about it.
So, of course, raising the infant fell to the children — who were the last people in all of Tamriel who should've been raising anything, let alone a baby, and were, naturally, entirely overwhelmed by the whole business. Most of the kids hadn't any idea what to do with a screaming newborn, so the task fell specifically to Vex and Tonilia, who did the best they could given their own age. Tonilia, the older of the two, took charge — decisively, without asking anyone's permission. Vex, a touch younger, followed her lead. Between the two of them they worked out feeding times, improvised warmth, what scraps of affection they could spare, and took shifts through the night when the baby wouldn't settle. They were children raising a child, and they were in over their heads…
After a while, Brynjolf joined in. Five years older than the baby, he was the biggest of the three carers but, all the same, the youngest. Yet it didn't sit right with him to leave his friends to it. The little one had no part in any of it; she didn't even know her crying was what brought Grelod's wrath down on the lot of them. So he took on a brotherly role, hushing and shushing the wee one, rocking her now and again, doing what he could to keep Grelod placated enough that nobody got beaten for the trouble. "Shhh, shhh. There you go, y' tiny screamer! See? Nothing to be afraid of. I'll protect you ~ " he said, more than once, slowly getting accustomed to the role. So, as days passed by, Brynjolf took to watching over the infant with the same quiet, stubborn protectiveness that would come to define him for the rest of his life. No fuss about it. He did it for the friends who felt like family — and despite needing to survive himself, he put the others first.
Because the baby had no name when she arrived, she was simply called "the little one" or "the baby" by the children, which suited her fine — she had no opinions on the matter yet. Grelod called her nothing in particular. Or rather, she called her whatever came to mind, which was rarely flattering and often accompanied by slaps and bellowing.
The seasons passed. Winter turned to summer and back to winter, and the child slowly grew into a toddler. Frail, a touch underfed, too small for her age — but alive. When she hit the age of three and still hadn't spoken a single word, it became a concern. By that age, any child ought to have been babbling, parroting bits of speech, trying out the shapes of words. So, Brynjolf, Vex and Tonilia did their best to coax something out of her…
"Bryn-jolf. Say it slow, eh? Bryn… an' then… jolf."
"No. You're doing it wrong, Stupid. Let me try. Mine's shorter. Vex. Say Vex." "Toni? Like Toni-lia. Try, sweetness."
Unsurprisingly, the little one looked at them, then opened her mouth and closed it again. No coherent sound came… not any time soon…
Quickly, this turned into a worse problem than not having a name to call her by. Grelod ran the orphanage by command. If she said 'Now', the children answered 'Yes, Grelod' before the word had finished landing — and they moved before they'd finished answering. A child who couldn't respond was a child who couldn't obey and "the Kind" had no patience for that distinction. So, one day, Grelod told the nameless girl to fetch a bucket of water. The little one was already moving towards the door, small hands reaching for the pail — but the silence in place of the 'Yes, Ma'am' hung a half-second too long, and Grelod's patience snapped on that half-second alone. "When I tell you to do a thing, you SAY so. Yes, Ma'am. Out o' your mouth, plain as day. Not this — this nothing. Stop snivellin' or I'll give you somethin' to snivel about! Damn crying gives me a headache!!!"
A slap came first. A kick followed after — hard enough to put the small thing through the doorway. Then the bucket of meltwater followed her out, dumped over her head where she'd landed on the stone path — ice-cold, knocking the breath clean out of her. Unfortunately, this day marked the moment her first words ever came: "S-s-sorry. M' s-s-s-sor — "
Half a word, a stammer the cold had put in her. Fretful, begging for the witch to stop before she'd worked out what a sentence was….
Vex was the first to break — already on her feet, already moving for the doorway. Tonilia caught her by the arm with the sort of grip no child should've had to learn. Brynjolf was a step behind, putting himself between Grelod and the doorway before he'd thought about it. None of it mattered. Grelod was already past them, out into the wet, hauling the small thing up by a fistful of rosé-coloured hair. "Can't carry a bucket. Can't scrub a floor without ruinin' it. Can't eat without soilin' yourself. Can't speak. Costin' me more coin than you're worth, you know that? Maybe I'll sell you off to the slavers in Morrowind. See if I care."
Heartlessly, she dragged the child back inside by the hair, hauled her across the floor like wet washing and shoved her into the closet, before she slammed the door so hard the latch jumped twice in its frame.
From behind the wood, a small broken noise echoed, continuing to try and speak: "P-p-please — s-s-s-sorry — Y-Yes — Ma'am — M' —"
Not a second later, the door opened again. Not because the witch had softened — because she'd heard something she could grab onto. Reaching in, she got the child by the throat, choking her. "What was that? WHAT was that?! Was that supposed to be speech?! Before you ever try and talk again, best you learn this: You are useless. You are worthless. You came from nothing, and you ARE nothing. You're trash. A nobody. So worthless your own parents left you for dead in the dirt. You are No One. You hear me? That. Is your name now: NO ONE! Say it! I SAID: SAY IT!!!" —
"N…N-o … N-o O-ne… N-N-No One…", cried she, halfway suffocating through the ordeal. Setting her down the way a butcher sets down a bad cut, Grelod stepped back and let the door slam shut a second time. The latch dropped. The whole orphanage went very quiet….
Three days, the child stayed in that dark chamber, chained to the walls.
No food. No water. And when Tonilia finally worked up the courage to ask — quiet as she could manage, eyes on the floor — whether she might be allowed to bring a cup of water in, Grelod didn't even look up from her book.
"No one gets any water. There is no one to give water to. Get back to work."
After that, the name stuck and became her permanent label. Grelod used it like a verdict. The children used it carefully, gently at first, unsure whether the name was a wound or just a word. They didn't dare to repeat it initially, not wanting to inflict anything more on the poor girl. So they made themselves a small workaround.
They called her "N" — just the letter, said the way one'd say "Ann."
It was close enough to a proper name that it sat easier on their tongues, far enough from Grelod's word that it didn't feel like joining in. A small kindness, and an entirely deliberate one.
But in due time, Grelod pushed them into using it — and punished them when they didn't.
So, it became simply hers, normalised — the only name she had ever had, and therefore the only one that mattered.
N wouldn't understand it until much, much later — when she was older, when she could put words to the shape of what had been done to her. In future times, the orphanage would remain a memory she'd done her best to bury and No One would feel less like a name and more like a description…
As for the present, No One didn't yet understand that what was being done to her was wrong. She had nothing to compare it to. So, she tried to be good. She tried to follow the rules. She tried to be quiet enough, fast enough, small enough. It never satisfied grim, old Grelod. The beatings came regardless…
It came as no surprise, then, that No One grew into a quiet, timid, enormous-eyed little thing who startled easily and continued to cry often. Around the time she turned four, Brynjolf started calling her "Mouse."
It began as a simple observation, because she was one — but it was a bit of both, really: the way a small boy teased a smaller girl, and, quietly, a term of endearment he wouldn't have admitted to under torture. There was something painfully sweet about the way she clung to his sleeve, hid behind his back, asked for help with the bashful look of someone half-expecting to be told off for asking:
"B-Bryn-j-jolf? C-can y'… h-help reach the — t-the thingy — t-the top — t-there."
"Aye, Mouse. Hold on, eh?"
Brynjolf never said any of the soft part of it out loud. Partly because the other lads would've torn strips off him for it — and partly because he could see that speaking wasn't easy for her, and the last thing she needed was an audience for that, too. Truth was, she was sweet about it. Stammering and stumbling over her words, ears going red the moment she heard herself, hiding her face behind her hands….
So, the Mouse of the group was small and skittish and prone to disappearing into corners — and the name became her new nickname. It was, without argument, a hundred times better than No One, and a workaround of the sort that came naturally among children.
The others — Tova, Ullr, Sindri and the rest — were not so kind.
Crybaby, they called her. Weepy. Snivelface.
It annoyed them that she cried at nearly everything: loud noises, harsh words, hunger, cold, the particular cadence of Grelod's footsteps when the witch was in a temper.
The bullying was small and constant and quiet enough to slip past adults who weren't looking, but mean enough to leave marks on a child who already had too many. Watching out for one another, just like their idols, the thieves of Riften did, Brynjolf, Vex and Tonilia put a stop to it where they caught it.
Vex was the worst of them for it, in the best sense. An eleven-year-old Vex with a face like a killer and a vocabulary she'd learnt entirely from listening to the older boys at the docks could clear a room of teasing children inside of a minute, and frequently did.
Tonilia worked subtler — quiet words, a hand on a shoulder, the occasional sharp warning that nobody dared test twice.
And sweetest of them all, Brynjolf simply put himself between Mouse and whoever was at her that day. An immovable little wall, fists already balled, jaw already set. He didn't shout but he threatened and stood there until they went away or used his smarts to outwit them— and if they didn't, he hit first, and took whatever Grelod's stick had to say about it later without a sound. Mouse was worth the bruises. That much, he'd already worked out…
No One came into the world in 4E 174 (24th Sun's Dawn), a year before the White-Gold Concordat tore the Empire apart. She would never answer to "Arya"—the name her parents had chosen with quiet affection before she’d even drawn her first breath.
Nagá Fernvale, her mother, was a Bosmer adventurer from Valenwood, born with wanderlust and no intention of settling down. Curious about the world, wanting to see all of Tamriel, she traveled widely, excited to see the lands beyond her homeland's canopy. That curiosity was what later got her into trouble.
Nagá was not built for staying still. After drifting through the sands of Elsweyr and the heart of Cyrodiil, she hit the Skyrim border, where the sudden, biting cold demanded her attention. She lingered in Falkreath just long enough to dry her boots before the old itch returned. It led her to a pack of adventurers with eyes on the Rift—specifically the brass and steam of Bthalft. The Dwemer ruin promised enough salvage to make the risk of the deep dark feel like a fair trade, right?
The crew stocked up in Riften, picking up a young man who’d caught wind of the word "treasure" and decided that was all he needed to hear. Nagá figured he was a bit of a stoic oddball, but he had steady hands and didn't complain when the work got heavy. They spent days crawling through Bthalft’s collapsed guts, prying brass from the walls and filling their packs with anything that looked valuable. They climbed back out into the light with heavy pockets and a half-formed plan to go back for the rest once their backs stopped aching.
The time in the dark had given the young man ideas. Once they were back in Riften and flush with coin, he turned up with a stolen Amulet of Mara and a look on his face that suggested he’d already scripted the ending. He presented it to Nagá with the baffling confidence of someone who didn't think "no" was on the table.
Nagá was flattered. Truly. But she was also not interested. She said so, as kindly as she could manage, which was kind enough but still a no. The atmosphere among the group didn't recover and the young man didn't take it lightly. What had been easy camaraderie curdled into something stiff and uncomfortable, and Nagá, who had no patience for that particular kind of tension, decided she had seen enough of Bthalft and enough of the Rift for the time being. Eventually, after a light-hearted good bye, she moved on. There was more of Skyrim to see, and she had never been good at staying where she was no longer wanted.
Somewhere on the road near Markath, Nagá crossed paths with a group of Thalmor agents transporting a political prisoner — a young child, taken hostage as leverage against a family of Talos worshippers. Nagá intervened. She helped the child escape. It was the kind of decision that felt right in the moment and cost everything afterward.
With the Thalmor now on her trail and nowhere safe in Skyrim, Nagá fled west into High Rock, the child in tow. It was meant to be a temporary refuge and would turn out to be one of her worst, desperate decisions.
In High Rock, she crossed into the territory of Lord Alderween — a Breton nobleman of considerable reputation and considerably worse character. To the outside world, he was charming, well-mannered, and generously hospitable; the kind of man other nobles spoke well of and commoners trusted on sight. He was known for taking in travelers in need. He was known for his open doors and warm hearths. All of it was a carefully maintained lie.
Nagá did not know that when she accepted his hospitality. She had no reason to suspect it. She was exhausted, hunted, and grateful for a hand extended to her without obvious malice. By the time she understood what kind of man she had walked into, the door was already closed behind her. Secretly, Alderween was something else entirely. A devoted worshipper of Molag Bal. He took pleasure in dominance, suffering, and the breaking of people he considered his property. He had developed a particular, obsessive fixation on Nagá the moment he laid eyes on her; her unusual appearance, her rosé-coloured hair, her foreignness — she was, to him, a prize. Something rare to be owned.
The details of what followed are not ones that need to be written down. Some horrors are better left in the silence between words, where they belong. What can be said is this: Nagá did not leave that place the same woman who entered it. No one ever did.
Eventually, Nagá escaped Alderween's hold. She did not leave easily, and she did not leave whole. Her first instinct was to find the child — she followed what little trail she had back into Skyrim, all the way to the Rift, where the last lead died with the confirmation she had been dreading: the child was gone. Killed. And there was nothing left to save.
Near Shor's Stone, still in the Rift, she ran out of road. Exhausted, cold, underfed, and in no condition to go much further, she was barely standing when a hunter found her. His name was Toivo Russ, the son of a simple farmer. A Nord who earned his living by selling game. Not a remarkable man by any grand measure — no titles, no wealth, no particular destiny. Just someone who saw a woman sitting at the edge of collapse on his doorstep and offered her a meal and a roof without asking for anything in return.
As time passed, Nagá fell in love with Toivo, and with love came trust — so she told him the truth about her past and what she had been through: Alderween, the Thalmor, the child, what she had survived and what it had cost her. Understandably so, she was paranoid, still dreading that the Thalmor were after her as well, or that Alderween had not forgotten her and would eventually come to collect what he considered his. She told him she was likely still being hunted, that staying near her carried real risk. Toivo stayed anyway. Love, as it turned out, did not require ideal circumstances. It simply required two people who chose each other anyway.
24th Sun's Dawn - 4E 174
The day Arya was born, the Thalmor found them and Nagá would never know whether it was on orders of Lord Alderween, or if it was revenge for helping their hostage child in the first place.
Toivo fought. There was no negotiation, no hesitation — just a Nord man putting himself between his family and the people who wanted them dead, with everything he had, until he had nothing left. While drawing his last breath, he still swung his axe at the attackers. As his heart stopped, he still grabbed one of them by the throat and took him along into death. Toivo bought his wife and child time to run and it cost him his life. A sacrifice he would've chosen over and over and over again…
Terrified and heartbroken, Nagá fled, dashing through the aspen and birch forest of the Rift. Wounded, bleeding, newborn pressed against her chest, she didn't stop once, pushing herself over her physical limits. Like any loving mother, she kept moving long after her body had given her every reason to stop, driven by the single, wordless certainty that the child had to live even if she did not.
Unfortunately, Nagá did not make it far. The wounds she carried were too deep and the road too long — she bled out slowly, until her body simply had nothing left to give. She was found hours later by a farmer's wife travelling the road near Riften. Nagá was long gone by then, her body cold and still. And yet, tucked against her chest — held there by arms that had apparently refused to let go even as everything else gave out — was the baby. Alive. Impossibly so. And stubbornly crying, though cold to the touch and screaming with the kind of desperate, furious hunger that only the very young can manage. The farmer's wife stood there for a long moment, unable to quite believe what she was seeing. It was nothing short of a miracle.
She had no idea what had happened. A dead woman on the road, no signs of a struggle nearby, no one else in sight — she assumed bandits were responsible. She wrapped the baby in her own cloak, held her close for warmth, and stood there with a heavy heart and no good options. Temporarily, she took the child home. But winter was coming, resources were already stretched thin, and there was simply no room for another mouth to feed — not if her own family was to survive the cold months ahead. It broke her heart, but there was only one place she knew to bring a child who had no one left in the world — The Riften Orphanage.
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The True Scale of Riften: Skyrim in UNREAL ENGINE 5! [4K]
Skyrim:Honorhall Orphanage
Hi everyone, I’m N (or just “Mouse” if you’re Brynjolf).
I’m an autistic, chronically ill disabled artist, and this blog is my little safe space. My special interest in The Elder Scrolls, Skyrim and the Thieves Guild helps me keep my head above water.
I’m writing a long-term BryN story — an alternate timeline (or AU).
It’s full of slice-of-life Thieves Guild moments, romance, and gentle criminal domesticity.
This is a non-sharing yume blog.
Brynjolf belongs to N here, and that’s very important to me. Please respect this boundary.
On this blog you’ll find:
- Headcanons & lore (links included)
- Short stories & slice-of-life scenes
- LONG READS!!!
- Art (WIPs also - )
- Lots of love for my favorite group of thieves
The Master Timeline is still under construction, but I’ll be posting regular updates. If you want to dive deeper into N’s story and the lore, you can find the current Lore Link here: TESV:V Charactersheet
Thank you for stopping by ᓚᘏᕐᐷ ~ sᴛᴇᴀʟs ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴏʟʟ ~
— N ~ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ༘⋆
(Character Voice Matters! Click here!)
Birth & Origins
4E 174 - 186 Childhood
Childhood - Cleithrophobia
Childhood - One Shawl against Nightmares
Childhood - Of Thieves and idols
*
4E 186-4E 191 First Steps / Apprenticeship
First Steps - Yer a Bosmer, N!
First Steps - Praticse
First Steps - Secrets of Rats and Mice
First Steps - Oh, sweet Treasure!
First Steps - Of course, you're upset!
First Steps - "I know that craft!"
(List is going to be updated regularily too. I recommend reading it all on my google docs because: The formatting is much clearner, there's colour codes for characters, and it's just nicer outlay than media)
