#I got a silly blue pencil

[rhetoricalsoapbox]

what the fart Vito doodle

[mariasont]

Dress Code - S.R

a/n: got a little carried away with this one, but ugh just imagining spencer reid coming to my defense has me down BAD

masterlist

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pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: in which spencer reid doesn't appreciate an agent questioning the length of your skirt

warnings: fluff, a rando flirting/being rude with the reader, mini skirts 4 life, definitely not appropriate for work but spencer doesn't give a FUCK

wc: 1.5k

"Interesting choice of attire for the FBI," the man's voice commented as you paused in the midst of penciling in his meeting with Chief Cruz. "Isn't that skirt a bit... short?"

The man was tall, though not quite as tall as Dr. Reid. His hair, a dark shade that caught the light as he moved (more so because of the liberal amount of gel in it), was neatly trimmed, but it lacked the effortless charm of Spencer's curls.

You had unwittingly set a standard, with Dr. Reid as the benchmark. You tried to go on dates, to distract yourself from the boy genius, but those dates turned into a mental tally--he's not as smart as Spencer, not as kind, not as attractive. 

Maintaining an unshakeable smile, you stood up from your work area. "You think? I just love how it twirls when I spin!"

You demonstrated--the pleated hem of your pink tweed skirt billowing out around you. You wobbled on your heels, a giggle escaping you as you used the desk to steady yourself. Spencer's gaze followed your every move as you tucked a couple stray curls behind your ears.

Spencer intended to maintain a respectful distance, to grant you some space, but he found himself consistently drawn towards you, as if pulled by gravity itself. You were irresistibly captivating, and it wasn't lost on him that this allure undoubtedly affected others just as much.  

His gaze sharpened into a glare, almost tangible in its intensity, directed at the man who hovered too close in your personal space, eyes trailing where they shouldn't as the fabric of your skirt fluttered with your movements.

The agent let out a soft laugh, inching forward to prop his elbows on the desk's edge, his eyes subtly scanning your legs. "I'd wager it becomes quite the tactical distraction during interrogations."

"Oh, I don't go into the interrogation rooms, silly!" you laugh, a melodic ripple in the air, as you ease back down into your chair. 

You cross your legs, one over the other, the action accentuating the graceful lines of your figure, skirt settling into place with a soft rustle. 

The man's smirk broadened, his eyebrow lifting in a choreographed motion. "You don't say?"

Your smile is radiant, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm in his voice. You tilt your head, a soft gesture as you rearrange a vase brimming with colorful flowers on your desk--a thank-you from Garcia for the cupcakes you gifted her with last week.

"Yep! I'm the first face people see here, and I want to make sure it's a good one!"

He nodded slowly, a sly grin spreading across his features. "The first face, huh? I suppose with a view like that, it's hard for anyone to get past the front desk. But isn't it a bit distracting for the agents?"

"I believe it's all about focus. And our team has an exceptional ability to focus, no matter the environment."

It was a welcome surprise to watch Dr. Reid make his way toward you, his walk a familiar lanky stride that somehow managed to be both awkward and graceful. You like his tie today, still crooked, but charming, and it was decorated with blue stripes that trailed up the side. Despite the sharp lines of his suit, there was something so undeniably soft about him. 

"Dr. Reid, I..."

Spencer didn't let him finish his thought. "And speaking of work, I believe Chief Cruz is waiting on you for those files. Best not to make him wait."

You weren't speaking of work, but the agent was quick to excuse himself, nonetheless.

"He seems nice, doesn't he?"

Spencer's lips twitched, on the verge of breaking your idealistic bubble, but he stopped short, arrested by the sincerity shining in your eyes. The idea of spoiling your untainted perspective felt almost sacrilegious, not when your smile was so genuinely sugary it nearly could've brought him to his knees right then and there. 

"Yeah," he conceded, his eyes trailing over your complacent face. "Nice."

You looked down at your skirt, plucking at a thread that had come undone. "You don't think it's too short, do you?"

You stood, ensuring he had a complete view, your palms delicately pressing the fabric down. Spencer's eyes opened a shade wider, the unexpected display catching him off guard. The skirt's length--or lack thereof--left little to the imagination, your thighs on full display, but he'd keep that thought to himself, and with any influence he had, everyone else would as well. 

"No, it's fine, you look lovely."

"Lovely?" your eyes basically shimmered in this light, your chin gently resting in the curve of your palm as you fixed him with an intent stare. "That's high praise."

"Deservedly so."

"Dr. Reid, I'm blushing."

And you were, pink radiating across your neck and cheeks, but he was sure a similar rosy shade was coloring the tips of his ears.

You rose from your chair, circling the desk to position yourself directly in front of him, close enough for him to detect the light scent of Dubble Bubble on your breath. He, almost instinctively, found himself leaning in your direction. 

"I just love how it feels," you noted, hand brushing against the cloth. "It's so soft, see?"

You extended the hem of your skirt towards him. Spencer's hand hesitated, then tentatively touched the fabric, clearing his throat in the process. He was even closer now, the scent of your perfume--what he thought was a mix of roses and a hint of citrus--engulfed him. The skirt was soft like you had said, but it was the warmth radiating from your skin that sent a jolt through him. 

His knuckles grazed against your thigh, whether intentional or not he really wasn't sure. His usual clarity wasn't up to par, not with you standing so close, looking so nice. The world seemed to spin when he was around you.

You let out a giggle, a soft and effervescent sound that seemed to steal the air from his lungs. "Do you see what I mean? It's like wearing a cloud."

His hand snapped back as if touched by fire, his face awash with a flustered glow. "Yes, it's...very soft," he managed, raking his fingers through his hair, his gaze darting to any point but your legs, the memory of its softness scattering his concentration.

You offered a beaming smile, naively unaware to the sheer havoc you wreaked on his senses. He needed to get back to work to prevent any rash decisions--like taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours right there, an act that would certainly mar his professional record. He also wasn't sure you'd appreciate that. 

As though you had plucked the thoughts straight from his mind, your fingertips brushed softly over his chest. "Goodness, I've been rambling on, haven't I? You probably have, like, super important stuff to do."

Your touch seemed to still the air between you, Spencer's breath hitching, momentarily losing his train of thought. "Oh, uh... well, no, it's actually kind of a slow day for me right now."

Your hand, moving from his chest to rest on his arm, offered a tender squeeze. "Oh, that's good, isn't it? You guys are always super busy, it's about time the universe gave you a break, huh?"

Just as Spencer opened his mouth to reply, you bit your lip, cheeks flushed with a sudden realization. "Oh no, I totally just jinxed it, didn't I?"

You quickly rapped your knuckles against the desk. 

Spencer cocked his head to the side, a bemused chuckle escaping him. "What?"

Your words bubbled over with delight, closing the gap between you and Spencer until you were almost chest to chest. "Look at this, I'm the one who is teaching you something for once!" Your smile was wide and uncontainable. "So, knocking on wood--it's supposed to ward off bad luck or reverse a jinx, just like I might have done."

A myriad of scientific retorts teetered on the tip of his tongue, each one ready to debunk the notion of luck and its superstitious rituals. But those thoughts dissolved in the glow of your smile, as radiant and illuminating as an 1800-watt lightbulb. 

"Really? That's fascinating," he mused, his smile soft. "I'll have to remember that."

"Right? Oh, and don't get me started on finding a four-leaf clover. I swear it's lucky. I found one once, and I had the best day ever."

To him, it seemed like you didn't have anything other than good days, despite the statistical improbability. 

"I don't doubt it," Spencer replied with a knowing smile. Noticing the same agent coming out of the hallway, he excused himself. "Well, I'm going to get back. I'll, uh, see you later?"

"You know where to find me," you said.

As you spun to retreat to your desk, he offered a last, discreet glance at your skirt, more specifically the shape of your ass in it, before following after the agent.

"Walk with me, yeah?" Spencer suggested, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was out of character for him, but the way his jaw tightened suggested he didn't care. Once the distance granted privacy from your ears, he stated plainly. "Her attire is not up for discussion. If there's a concern, I'm the one you talk to."

The remainder of his day passed just as slow, and in the back of his mind, he entertained the thought that he had your knock-on wood to thank for that.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[joltrify]

experimentations ft. the Artpop queen herself

Silly little (not so little) unrelated HC I developed later under the cut

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🎀- HC that EVE's most normal hobby - when not occupied with other things - is repainting dolls 🎀- Like in a blue moon you can catch her at the hobby lobby in mom jeans and a cardigan just looking for materials

★- In her down time (which is a bit rare these days) Nadia'll pick those ball-jointed Barbie/Bratz/MH dolls and give them a complete makeover ☆- While she's making them she's fervently thinking 'I will love you in a way that no one else EVER has' and she treats them all that way ★- She'll repaint them in the most unconventional ways possible but they're still gorgeous; a perfect reflection of her studio artwork on a body that isn't her own ☆- Sometimes if she's low on fabrics, instead of making a full-sized mockup of her exhibition fits she'll use her dolls to test the outfit design and make a mini version of the fit with small pieces of the final material ★- She's got this HUGE shelf on her pad that's got these fashion icon dolls displayed with their name and inspiration on a little plaque ☆- Whenever something significant happens and she doesn't want to paint, she'll hold onto the feeling, good or bad, and jot down an idea for a new doll's look ★- and she DOES truly love each of them - though she may have had to learn to love one in particular

🎀- She picked up the hobby in college (before she met Zuke) but didn't really think anything of it 🌸- It was just a means to practice different makeup looks and pencil techniques without sculpting something - and it was fun! She liked having a cute little gal at the end of the process 🎀- When she came up with the idea of using the dolls as models, she created a doll of herself but made the decision to make its skin completely white 🌸- When Nadia met Zuke, she sort of put the hobby aside to focus on her other art mediums, but she looked at the doll of herself and felt comfortable enough to repaint the right side pink (and she laughed a bit to herself looking at the final result, because it looked... Cute! Just like her other gorgeous dolls...) 🎀- After Rapturica, she didn't feel the need to create a doll based on her feelings as she didn't feel as hurt as she expected, but she did find it really, REALLY hard to look at the doll of herself, so she hid it away... 🎀- she picked up repainting again later but went in HARD - they began to look more artsy and alien, just like her other art pieces 🌸- After graduating she didn't really have time to repaint dolls and focused on creating other arts/music again, only occasionally using them to test outfits (but never the one of herself) 🎀- After the events of NSR though, she picked it up again as a form of self-care. It's something she doesn't have to create for the public eye, and she's rekindled the joy of creating a strange little gal and loving them despite their bizarre quirks. 🌸- ... I think she feels a bit more comfortable looking at the doll of herself now, too.

★- She's probably still got doll repaint videos up on her channel from her college days, hehe. ☆- (She's debating whether or not to make a mini exhibition about the concept of dolls.* Likely not, as she doesn't want to taint the tranquility of the act, but she still likes the idea. It's better to not mix work art with home art, anyway.) (* (How they can reflect their caretaker, they exhibit both confidence and vulnerability, they can be broken and discarded but repaired, they're still images that can be moved in a 3d space however you desire, they rely on a person to actually be 'real' ykyk that kind of thing. the symbolism of dolls.)

The doodle I made in the 3rd picture (above the cut) is inspired by those really pretty doll repaints... I think that that look in particular is one that she tested on a doll first... pre-ugly cry, that is.

Thanks for reading my very silly idea... decorated the bullets with Bows and stars because I felt like it, haha. Have a lovely day~🌸

[choppedsouldreamer]

Guys some how I did even more doodles than last time, like 20- I THINK I NEED HELP NGL I NEED TO REMEMBER TO TAG EVERYONE GUHHH-

Sorry if these are kind of hard to see, I had to take them at a distance so my camera wouldn't automatically make the pics sideways for some reason- needed to migrate these ones to my bed this time since there is no room on my cooker, even if I did indeed cook again U-U This does include pixel art that is kind of hard to see what it is as well so sorry about that but this is my first time trying pixel art and I worked with what I had which was grid paper- (UGH THE PENCIL ONES ARE SO HARD TO SEE TOO MY CAMERA IS TRASH ;-;)

Full pic of all the doodles:

SMG3 doodles close up, Ik you asked for more SMG3 @roxy4life so here you go, eat up my friend:

My OC doodles with a teensy bit of lore hehe, oh and first ever drawing of THE CHILD!!!:

of course an autism creature because we all love this silly lil thing:

and last but not least, the creator doodles!:

@grinnames: here I go drawing this goober again ugh, in all seriousness though I love this guy, just look at him, all he wants is your body parts so why don't you kindly donate them ya silly? I would go on a tangent complimenting you again but I doubt you want that though, so just know you are one of my favourite creators :D

@tophatwearingidiot: hey look who it is! that's your design for my silly gal right there!! I was planning to draw my puffels for so long as you know but my brain constantly got filled and I forgot about it, so here, you got a doodle!! I WILL GET TO THIS I SWEAR UGGHHHHHH, both mentioned as my OC doodles and creator doodles lucky you

@tiredsmashbros and @its-a-me-mango: decided to do you two as two mini doodles together! you two are so damn awesome I love both your art so much AHHHHH, I wish I was as cool as you guys I swear and I love both of your characters so much so here's TSB inhaling a burger Kirby style and Mango just having to deal with his crap like usual and wishing he just got more money for it since TSB is just other worldly XD COOL ARTISTS RIGHT HERE!!! OH GOD DAMN IT HERE I GO DOODLING TSB AGAIN, TOMM HELP ME OUT HERE AND GET HIM OUT, MANGO EXTRACT HIM FROM MY BRAIN PLEASE

@michealscorneroftheinternet: oh boy did you get treated my friend, a meme and another doodle of Ink SMG4? damnnnn, all jokes aside I can't get over these designs, like your ideas are just insane to me and literally all your AU's are my favourites GOD HOW MUCH I LOVE THE UNDERTALE AU AND CHANGE IN SCRIPT AND FALLEN AU DB)SBD)SYVDSVFAD(F)- dude, tell me your secrets how are you this talented? /silly but true on the last part. You're constantly in my brain now too hahahah (HELP ME-) oh and I have a surprise for you! yeah, you thought that was it? haha...no..so you know those doodles of said ink and error 4 and 3? well I'm still thinking of those BUT, I have these as a substitute I'm working on since Ibispaint is up and running on my phone AHA! GET DUNKED ON WITH MORE ART YOU CAN NEVER BEAT ME /silly

I wanted to include more of my crazed AU and thought this was too perfect so had to do it, DID SOMEONE SAY PERFECT?!? /j

bro gets to not talk sometimes because he had chains around his neck YIPPIE!! (and hehe @theartistisme43 mentioned) that's if you can read my doodle handwriting lol, if not here it is (purple = SMG3 blue = SMG4)

bottom doodle: so you also had a run in with Mr Puzzles huh? Yep... So fuckin done with life

Top doodle (left): AYYYY!!!

Top doodle right: can't breathe sometimes and talk, knows how scarred 4 feels

[deadhands69]

*❆ White Elephant: Jututsu Kaisen ❆*

What happens when you select their white elephant gift? *This is absolute crack and in no way did I put any consideration into where in time it occurs/what side you’re on/why all of these people/curses somehow got along well enough for a holiday gathering together. **yes, i’m very aware of how out of context the header image is

Gojo: This one is wrapped… interestingly. It doesn’t look bad by any means, the shiny white paper is just folded in a way that feels like it should defy physics. Upon opening, a small strange object falls out. You’ve never seen anything quite like it and its presence weighs heavily on you. You’re about 90% sure that thing is cursed beyond reason and there’s absolutely no way you’re bringing it home with you.

Did he just forget and pick up the first thing he saw on his desk? Absolutely.

Itadori: You selected this one because you can tell someone put so much love into wrapping it. Sure, it looks a little sloppy with the twisted ribbon and fold marks on the cute snowman printed paper, but A+ for effort. When you open it, you find a silly coffee mug filled with random odds and ends. A cute keychain. Human Earthworm action figure. And an assortment of stickers. Overall, a pretty thoughtful gift.

Todo: With the nice reusable gift bag, this one caught your eye. Worst case, you still get a cool bag. Once you open it, you peel back the layers of protective paper to find - a framed photo of Nobuko Takada. What else did you expect? 

Maki steals it from you three turns later.

Geto: The wrapping is immaculate. Crisply folded dark blue paper. Symmetrical gold bow on top. 10/10. It’s perfect. Of course, you had to choose this one. Peeling back the paper and digging into the box, a small glowing ball rolls out. In what he thought would be the funniest inside joke ever (coming from someone who doesn’t joke often), Geto left the curse you had all fought together for you to keep in a nice little orb. How sweet. There’s also a religious pamphlet and invitation to his cult’s gatherings. 

Jogo: The messy wrapping leaves something to be desired, but this one has a presence. When you peel back the green paper, you discover…one of sukuna’s fingers.

This does not feel like it should fit within the $25 spending limit, but whatever.

Nanami: This envelope almost went unnoticed until you saw it poking out from behind another gift. When you open it, you find a gift card for $25. Low effort but certainly useful.

Yuta: A small silver box with a cute blue bow. When you open it, you find a beautiful locket. That's from Yuta. Inside is a photo of Yuta. That's from Rika.

Maki: Green paper with a big red ribbon. This gift looks exactly like someone mimicked the most stereotypical Christmas wrapping they could manage (she did.) It’s hefty for its size. When you open it, you find a large bottle of Pinesol, a scrubbing brush, and some gloves with a note that ‘some of you need to pull your weight  more around here.’

Megumi: The wrapping is nice. Simple. Minimalistic. A red paper so dark it's nearly black. When you open the box, you find an assortment of new pens, pencils, lighters, and a phone charger. He wanted to introduce a surplus to the group in the hopes that now everyone will stop stealing his. (If you can’t tell, the Zenin clan isn’t so big on Christmas.)

Nobara: The gift bag is cute. A nice bow, shiny star covered paper. Great choice. When you pull out the tissue paper and look inside, you find a hammer. Also, a holiday scented candle - gotta cover all the bases.

Panda: Crinkled snowflake print wrapping paper and a few bits of fur in the tape holding it together, but overall something really draws you to this gift. When you open it, you know immediately it’s from Panda. One of those packaged gag gifts you’ll be able to use or re-gift next year for a laugh.

Choso: This is the largest box. It's wrapped up in candy cane patterned paper with big holes stabbed through the top and sides. "Don't shake it!" he screams from across the room when you pick it up. Ripping through the already mangled paper and opening the cratered box, you find a tiny stray kitten with a cute red bow tied around its neck in place of a collar. Awwweee.

Inumaki: This one is larger than most and surprisingly well wrapped in cute santa hat Pikachu paper. When you open it, you find the absolute weirdest garden gnome you’ve ever seen. It’s wonky, in an endearing/funny way. You genuinely wonder where it came from.

How tf did he wrap it so well with only o-[SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER]

Mahito: A transfigured human. It’s not wrapped or anything. He didn’t really understand the game.

Shoko: A cute gold box with a red ribbon tied around it. It feels lightweight but you’re sure there’s something good in there. When you untie it and peel off the paper, you find a pack of cigarettes and a scribbled note that says ‘happy holidays.’

Toji: A crumpled paper bag with the top rolled over. It’s the only one left and you’re feeling adventurous. Opening it, you find a roll of toilet paper (which you return to the bathroom from which it went missing.)

***Sukuna declined to participate. He says his mere presence is a gift to all of you mortals and you’ll be lucky if he graces you with that.

In the end:

The toilet paper has been returned and Gojo confiscated the transfigured human and finger. Well, he tried to. Sukuna's mouth appeared on Yuji's hand and ate both while they were being passed across the room.

This leaves us with:

Gojo's creepy cursed object (he swears it's safe)

Yuji's cute mug/Human Earthworm nicknacks

Todo's framed idol photo (Maki is glaring daggers at you for even considering it)

Geto's curse orb and religious materials (Gojo stole this one to take it out of rotation so they might be off-limits too)

Nanami's $25 Applebees gift card

A locket with Yuta's photo glued inside

Maki's cleaning supplies

Megumi's box of frequently borrowed items (each of which have now been transformed by Mahito to look like small people)

Nobara's hammer. And candle.

Panda's gag gift (Toge is trying to hide this and not make eye contact in the hopes that you will forget it exists)

Choso's kitten that everyone is keeping away from Mahito (Megumi already named it so good luck prying it out of his hands)

Toge's quirky gnome

Shoko's cigarettes (minus the two Nanami already smoked after stealing a lighter before Mahito could transfigure it)

You have one more steal left, what are you going home with?

m.list

[miguelhugger2099]

Teenager Miguel AU but it’s just TASM universe and you’re his gwen stacy

With one earbud in place, you gnaw on your pencil in thought as you try to understand your homework for the night. You had wanted to get a head start on your hectic pile of studies before dinner. For a split second, you wondered if Miguel would actually come after you invited him.

Your prayers had been answered, a dull thud sounding out on your left side. You turn over to see what had happened and notice Miguel kneeling on your fire escape.

You smile and put your pencil down, shoving yourself away from your desk and walking towards your window. You glance down at him and he looks up at you. Miguel gives you a cheesy wide smile, his sharp canines adding to his endearing presence.

You open the hatch and lift up the window, allowing him inside. “Hi.” You feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You stick your head out slightly and look back down at him to see he still hasn’t dropped his soft smile. “How did you…get up here?”

Miguel doesn’t take his eyes off you. “The, uh, fire escape.” He shrugs. “Your doorman is intimidating.”

“I live on the 20th floor….” You trail off, wondering if Miguel actually did climb 20 stories up just to avoid a simple doorman.

Miguel blinks and ducks his head as he enters your room. “It’s fine.” He shrugs again, wanting to move on from the topic.

He turns his head around as he takes in everything about your room. Pictures of friends and families, a small bookshelf filled with your favorite tropes, shoes casted off to the side. It’s all so…you.

“So…your room.” He nods in approval. He stands awkwardly like he doesn’t want to invade more of your space so he grips onto his book bag strap.

“My room,” You nod and stick out your arms in a vague direction. “Welcome.” You laugh awkwardly, your heart thudding and spreading warmth to your body.

“It’s—it’s nice.” He coughs and you nod again. He seems to remember something, crimson eyes going wide. “Oh! I, uh, got something for your mom.” Miguel slips his bag off his shoulder and zips it open, pulling out a flimsy and crumpled up handmade bouquet of flowers. They weren’t big roses, in fact they were average flowers you could pick at the park. Some stems were bent, petals half torn off and the ends littered with dirt.

“Oh!” You gasp and then giggle. “They’re—lovely.” You say sarcastically. Miguel laughs with you.

“They’re gorgeous right?” He plays along with you. While you stare at the bouquet, Miguel can’t keep his eyes off of the curl of your lips and the smile lines that deepened from his silly behavior.

“Beautiful.” You confirm but Miguel hides his embarrassment with the flowers, bringing it up to his face.

“No, no, no, no. It’s actually—really— amazing it held up like that.” You snort. Miguel stuffs the flowers in his bag.

“Y’know what I’ll just—I’ll keep ‘em.”

You rock on both feet while he wipes the remaining dirt off his hands. “Do you have your suit in there?” You ask.

Miguel freezes and snaps his head up to you. “My…my…huh?” He seems afraid or panicked? You couldn’t tell but it worried you.

“Your suit? For dinner? Are you gonna wear that?” You point to his battered clothes, dirt on his jeans and blue t-shirt with a black hoodie. “Not that it’s bad! Just to be sure—“

“Hey, sweetheart.” You hear your bedroom door open and your father walks in the room.

Both you and Miguel suck in a sharp breath. While Miguel steps back, you step in front like you’re attempting to hide him.

But your father has already seen the boy in your room. His eyes narrow at Miguel staring him up and down. Tongue poking the inside of his cheek in a poor job at hiding his annoyance of a boy in his daughter’s room.

“Must be Miguel.”

“Dad, this is Miguel.” You squeak out, fists clenched at your side. Your smile is tight and you give Miguel a subtle warning look that screams hurry up and make a good impression, we aren’t looking good!

Miguel catches it and takes a step forward with his hand outstretched. “It’s good to meet you, sir.” Your father shakes his hand firmly, pleasantly surprised at Miguel’s grip but his guard is still up.

“Nice to meet you. Dinner’s ready.”

A/N: this scene and the confession scene will ALWAYS get me.

[fiendish-illos]

right, okay so as a celebration or something for the sudden explosion of popularity i find myself in, here's this

and now, i shall go in-depth about each phase i trekked and waded through like a heron in dolphin-infested waters. Phase 1: I had just begun Wings of Fire. I was small, innocent, horrorless (that I knew of at the time anyway but that's a whole other can of worms), and still had some good whimsy left in me in spite of It All. I had a simple style that had the charm of a young creature attempting to draw cool dragons. I also had no idea what digital art was. I was simply a sketcher, a traditional artist with a love for the pencil. I was a real good egg of a wee critter.

Phase 2: Still somewhat in the beginnings, and my art style developing rapidly. I took inspiration from as many artists as I could get my eyes on (specifically XTheDragonRebornX, the goat imo). Though not quite as innocent as I used to be, I was still chill and had now learned about digital art, but I had never once considered doing it myself (not yet anyway).

Phase 3: Gosh, this phase destroyed me. Well, rather, I destroyed myself. I'm not going to slander my younger self; I was in a delicate stage of my life and thus so was my art style as well. I had gotten into youtube channels like Inquisitormaster and whatnot, and I got. way too involved in it, to put it extremely lightly anyway. At this point in my journey I had also garnered the desire to begin digital art and post on DeviantArt (classic, classic). And thus, I began absorbing all the wrong tactics from all the wrong sources and trying to become a person that I was not, and it got me onto a path I don't think I was ever supposed to go down in the first place. Or maybe I was. I dunno, but the whole ordeal was quite ridiculous, quite ridiculous indeed. I dug a grave for the magic I saw and created in life I never should have, I'm afraid. It's hard to perceive by just looking at the style I had back then, but I was, in fact, quite dead inside from that choice.

Phase 4: After staring at the gravestone of my childhood silliness for a good long while, I finally realized the error of my ways and dug up those old bones of whimsy. I was finally learning how to adopt aspects of art styles that I didn't just think other people would like, but that I liked, as well. Though I didn't realize it then, I was taking a huge step into progress, and I commend my older self for that. I took inspiration from artists uhhh that one fish person and whatnot. I took on softer features, finding them to be more relaxing to draw than the sharper edges I had wielded in my previous art.

Phase 5: And here folks is where we can see where Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles infiltrated my life, and my sense of whimsy had returned fully at last. At this point, I decided to take a more cozy approach to how I drew, having the desire to draw like I was illustrating a bedtime story (it was in need of much work, but I improved I promise). I also knew much, much more about Wings of Fire and its faults, and though I was much less knowledgeable about how to go about it and some of the actual good things about it, I was much more level-headed than I was previously. And thus, I had the thought: "okay. I like Wings of Fire (in spite of its many imperfections), and I like ninja turtles (which has peak writing and storytelling and is just spectaculous in general). So, what if, perchance, mayhaps, I combined the two?" And thus, my Rise of the Wings of Fire (or whatever I'm gonna call it, I'm still mondering about the name) began.

Phase 6: After a long, grueling, harrowing journey of self-discovery and stupid decisions and all that jazz, we now see the art style I have now: semi-realistic with more expression than the live action Lion King would ever care to incorporate. Along with incorporating aspects of other styles that I like, I also decided to start including more animalistic traits to my Creatures (ie: blue whale eyes for SeaWings, porcupine/tenrec quills for IceWings, etc etc), which, in my opinion, greatly improved my art style, along with the fact that I began playing around with other digital brushes and filters (random noise my love). I'm still developing and learning, but overall, I'm quite satisfied with where I am.

And there you have it folks. If you've made it this far without getting bored, congrats!! you now know a little bit more about me than you probably ever cared to, which is fine by me. I may have paved this road but my man it was your choice to walk on it.

[talenlee]

My Weirdly Embarrassing Love of Spreadsheets

This is gunna be a post about like, the nuts and bolts of making big projects like ongoing writing projects like this blog, but to get there I need to talk to you about silly stuff like journals and buses and spreadsheets. We get there, please, trust me.

One of the first tools I made for blogging was a table in my bullet journal. If you’re not familiar, a common thing to do with bullet journals (or ‘bujos’ as cooler or more tedious people than I call them), is to write up a calendar at the start of each month, something that lists what you’re doing through the course of the month. When I started doing this, I had a way to look at the month, that I could scribble on, so I did, and it meant I was able to get into the habits of putting an article on a game every friday and an article on a story every monday, resulting in my Story Pile and Game Pile series.

This was back in 2017, and the notebooks are in my bookshelf, each of them a record of a year that… huh, I could go back and reread.

Anyway, one of the problems that came up with this system was the bus.

Not kidding.

I would get a bus home from the uni most days. When I was on that bus, or when I was at the uni, I would have time to write, but I wouldn’t necessarily have access to my notebook. I found myself wanting a copy of the chart that I could manage on two different computers – my laptop at the university, and my computer at home. This is how One Stone got written, too, the trips home on the bus being when I wrote the blog posts that became the first chapters of that book, eyes closed, not looking at the screen, and focusing on the road to avoid being car sick.

It is wild to consider how much of my first book I loved writing I did with my eyes effectively closed.

In 2019, I resolved midway through the year that I needed a better system, and started on a system that would handle the transport between two locations better, for the year coming where I anticipated a lot of travel between two sites.

Ahem.

Yeah, uh, 2020.

Anyway, that it wasn’t necessary didn’t stop it being useful! That led to the creation of this Google Sheets spreadsheet:

I made this in Sheets because Sheets is like Excel, which I like using, and it’s like Calc, which I now use, because the version of Excel I pirated doesn’t have access to IFS functions. Point is, this sheet, as originally conceived, did not need anything as a spreadsheet to work; I wanted a table with 365 cells in it that could show the entire year at a glance and be given a simple, straightforward tick or cross. It became something more, as the years progressed.

I’ve been using this kind of spreadsheet now, for 5 years. In 2025, the spreadsheet looks almost the same:

Being a spreadsheet, it is an array of data. You can manipulate that. You can track data in it. You can use indexes. You can cocatenate things, and that’s the stage this spreadsheet is at now. When I sit down to work on a blog post, the first thing I do is not open up WordPress to pull at my drafts, it’s to instead open up this spreadsheet and look at when I have slots available, where my next upcoming gap is, and what kind of thing that gap wants.

Blue slots are story pile, green are game pile. I have all the video article slots pencilled in already with a ‘V,’ on the working version, so I can look at the line of Xes under each date and then see the point where oh, yeah, I gotta work on one of those spots. But see, also, in that top left? That number? The 0 is a count of how many blog posts have been set in place for the year, how close I am to being finished, or on track for the number of days in the year I’m at.

I try to keep the blog progress (blogress) at around 51 posts. That is not because this is the number I’ve decided I need or anything like that, it’s just a round number that makes me happy. Just being able to look at that number and see it being reasonably high? That’s a progress number. I could make it a progress bar proper, with a pair of graphs, but y’know, not worth it. I could make it a fraction too, like, the formula it’s doing over a “/365” if I wanted.

The thing that I’m most happy with though is the cell next to it.

See that cell looks like this:

='Topics & Ideas'!A2

And oh ho what is that?

Well that leads to this:

Here’s what this is: This is a whole spreadsheet of idea categories. Each category has at the top of it, a cell that looks down in the list for a random entry in that list and just provides it. For some things this is a long list of possibilities, for some things this is a tiny list of possibilities. But that is an index function – it looks randomly up and down the list and finds something. That means any time I want something for a specific theme, I can go to this sheet and I’ll see a random selection from these ideas. If I have an idea for a thing to write about at some point, I can jam that in the list, and know that it will eventually be exposed to me at some random point.

Then, at the head of that list, there’s the cell that also randomises the other cells along that horizontal line. Which means that any time I open this blog arranger up, I get to see a random offering of just… anything I could be writing right now. That list can include really broad things, like hey, write about an OC? and sometimes it could be really narrow and specific, like here’s a real event, you know about that one, you should write about it.

Now let me be clear: This is not a tool I recommend for everyone. This is a lot of elaborate effort I put into what is essentially, a producivity toy. This lets me produce a big pile of input and get a random output, and it lets me collect long lists or short lists of things and also, along with all of that, I can just get a periodic output from that list.

The original purpose for this chart wound up being unnecessary. I didn’t need to write on the bus any more. I don’t need to track the post count like this. I don’t need the randomiser. None of this stuff is in any way necessary.

But making this tool though, and playing with it, I have ways to engage with the project of this blog, with the writing when I can’t do that. When my ability to muster words has left me, I have still a chart, a tool, I have productivity items that I can work on. Sometimes just… fine tuning formulas is still working on it.

There’s this idea, maybe you’ve heard of ‘just do a little every day.’ Well, making it so there is a little you can do is really valuable, as part of that.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[yuzurins]

# reluctant to love

desc: in which rin writes a long essay proclaiming his long suppressed love for you

warnings: not proofread… lots of rambling, maybe ooc, itoshi brothers are not estranged, minuscule amount of angst but majority is fluff, some curse words here and there, rin is still at blue lock btw!

rbs and interactions are appreciated !!

————————————————————————

‘dear y/n,

i am writing this letter to inform you that i have taken a liking to you for a while now and would like to—‘

————————————————————————

rin grumbles to himself as he scribbles out the complete trash of a confession that he had just wrote.

he doesn’t even know why he decided to take this approach at all. it all started because isagi and bachira told him that, “he was beating around the bush,” and “he’d probably win the world cup before being able to utter a word in front of them.”

so of course, rin said some very harsh words in response, leading to isagi challenging him to confess to you before the next match (that was in 72 hours) with his football career on the line.

which is how he found himself sitting at his desk after practice, spinning his pencil around trying to write a stupid love letter for his best friend.

because in the words of bachira, “everyone loves poetic men!”

despite immediately denying the words of his friends, deep down he knew damn well that they were completely right. if he wasn’t forced to, he would probably quit football before ever speaking about his feelings out loud.

but because the itoshi rin can’t risk his ego and pride, he’s reluctantly willing to write a silly letter.

turns out writing that silly letter was harder than any football game he’s ever played.

————————————————————————

‘dear y/n,

i remember the first time we met.

it was first day of junior high, and you were sitting on a bench in front of the school with red puffy eyes, fiddling with the little kumamon plush on your bag.

i was late to class that morning, and after seeing you i purposely tried to walk faster in order to avoid any human interaction. but you saw me and grabbed onto my blazer, refusing to let go even though i didn’t spare you a glace. you asked for help getting to your classroom, and because i didn’t know what i was getting myself into, i lead you there (like the kind person i am) expecting to never see you again.

but i guess the world had other plans, because it turned out we were in the same class. you stuck to me like a parasite, annoying me every chance you got and never shutting the fuck up. but i enjoyed the company, though younger me would never admit that.

fast forward a few years and nothings changed. or has it? you’re still yapping your mouth off all the time and clinging beside me in every class. except something’s different, and i don’t know what it is. you laze around at my house after begging me for homework help, we occasionally go get food, sometimes fall asleep together and— [this part is illegible because rin drew over it too hard]

i don’t know. i think around this time i started distancing myself from you because i always felt uneasy around you. my heart was always beating rapidly, my stomach felt uneasy, and i just felt anxious. all the time. nii-chan told me it was because of you, so i just stopped talking to you. i’m sorry.

i’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was leaving. that i’d be gone for a while because i got scouted by blue lock. i didn’t mean to because i thought i’d be okay before i left. sorry i’m rambling now. i know i don’t speak a lot in person so i’m writing my thoughts down for you to understand me better.

i was a kid in denial, and sometimes i still am because even now i don’t understand that part of myself. to be honest, i would’ve never confessed these feelings of mine if my friend didn’t push me to. it sounds like a dick move but i swear on my career that everything i’ve written on this stupid paper is genuine and sincere.

and what i am certain of is that i want you to be by my side. i want you to be there cheering for me when i win a game, i want you to be there beside me when i wake up, i want you to spend your afternoons lazing around me, i want you to tell me all about the small unnecessary details of your day,

i just want you

because you make me feel safe

————————————————————————

rin’s biting his lower lip now, feeling super embarrassed about how vulnerable he just let himself be on a piece of paper. he doesn’t read over it at all and shoves it into the envelope immediately. doesn’t even check whether he wrote your address right or not because he’ll chicken out if he looks it over at all.

he’s super anxious about this letter, to the point where he’s fucking up his plays, so imagine his surprise when he sees you sitting on his porch the day he finally gets to go home.

you jump up immediately at the sight of him and run to hug him. rin stiffens at the sudden impact but drops his bags a second later to sink into your embrace.

though as if that wasn’t enough of an answer for him, he’s still uncertain about your feelings. you hear the rapid beating of his heart and look up to give him a lovesick grin.

“i love you too, itoshi rin.”

BONUS: 2YRS LATER.

“i can’t believe you forgot to sign off a letter confessing that you’re head over heels for me.” you giggle as you walk over to your boyfriend, who was staring at his letter that you pinned to your pegboard. “what if i ended up responding to the wrong person?”

rin huffs and turns away, embarrassed that you caught him reading that. “shut up, you have no other friends anyways.”

you smile teasingly at him as you notice his ears turning red. “you never thought about the possibility that someone could’ve liked me during the 10 months you ignored me for?”

he frowns, though you can’t see him, and droops his shoulders down. you know he still feels bad about it, but it’s fun to tease him because in your eyes he looks so adorable, like a big puppy.

and as he still stares at the floor, he turns around and walks over to envelop you in his warmth, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

an endearing smile finds its way on your face as you hug rin back. he’s not a words person; this was his way of expressing his apology.

“it’s okay, you big baby, as long as you’re here with me now.”

[pinkhelados]

Always You - Miguel O’Hara x Reader (Part one)

summary: You and Miguel have been friends since high school and throughout all of that, he’s loved you. Getting around to asking you out however? No.

contains: mutual pining, friends to lovers, mentions of insecurity on miguel’s part. NOT PROOFREADING

part one | part two

You and Miguel went to high school together, graduated together, roomed together during university, and throughout all of that, Miguel had loved you, his best friend. He remembered when you walked into his chemistry class Junior year of high school… Through his thick-rimmed glasses, he admired the sway of your hair and the light glinting of the black plastic headband on top of your head. His body tensed when you sat next to him, offering a charming smile that would have him whipped his for the rest of his life.

The teacher’s voice faded into meaningless noise in the background and he found himself only focusing on you you. Brown eyes watched as you silently took down notes, sketching doodles on the edges of your notebook whenever you’d get bored, nose scrunching slightly whenever you made a mistake. He knew better then to stare but you were just so magnetic. You turned to look at him. Crap

Miguel darted his eyes to look at his paper only to find his page void of any writing.

He’d been so enraptured by you that he forgot to copy down notes.

Flustered, his eyebrows furrowed but quickly shot up when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced up at you expecting you to tear into him for his ogling but then he noticed you had slid your notebook next to his. He blinked but picked up his pencil and begin to copy down what was on your paper. “Thanks…” He mumbled, turning away to conceal the red on his tanned complexion.

Ever since that day, you were talking to him and he was delighted to listen. It started with you teasing him for ‘spacing off’ during class and then turned to conversations about music shared interests. The semester progressed he begun to hang out with you after school, silly conversations turning deep and personal. For the first time he felt like head a real friend, not just some random he talked to during robotics season. Thick and thin, you were there for him and when it was his turn to comfort you, he did in a heartbeat.

Senior year prom night, that stupid guy you’d been seeing ditched you last minute. You were sat on the edge of his bed sniffling into his shoulder. “Hey it’s okay, you’ll be fine,” He cooed into your ear, rubbing your back soothingly. If he weren’t so mousy, he would’ve kicked his ass. “God what was I thinking?! You told me he was a douche- Xina told me he was a douche- whyd I even go through with it?” You sobbed into his shoulder. Miguel already hated the guy for snatching you up and him breaking your heart like this only served to enrage him further. “I don’t know- you’ve always been kind of stubborn.” He joked. You wiped your eyes and smiled weakly, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Shut up, I know.”

Miguel laughed and silently held you up against him, careful to not extend any boundaries. “I don’t even have a date anymore and I already got the dress…” You said with sad eyes. An idea popped into your head. “Mig-”

“No.”

“Why not! I know you hate parties but it’s senior prom-”

“You know I don’t do well in social settings, (Y/N)”

“It’d make me feel better..”

That was all it took for his resolve to diminish. Miguel grunted but secretly, his heart was soaring. “Fine. Let me find a dress-shirt or something.”

He kept the picture in his wallet. Miguel would look at it whenever he needed a break from college work, you holding a peace sign over his head, blue lights making your dress glow and he just stood awkwardly doing his best to smile. As he walked to the campus library, he took out his wallet and just stared at the small Polaroid picture with a soft smile on his face. You’d changed and so had he.

Miguel opened the library door, sifting through the crowd of studying college students. A hand went up and discretely waved back and forth and Miguel walked towards it. “Hey,” you smiled. Miguel smiled back and set his bag down. “Hi.”

Miguel had grown taller since high-school- like- suspiciously tall. He went from being the small, nerdy guy to this 6’9 tank of a man in the span of three years. Freshman year of college, he didn’t look like this. Though- you liked it. Really liked it.

His arms were big- the crewneck just barely concealing the muscle of his arms and the broadness of his back. You’d been crushing on him since second year of college. It was odd- how quickly your view of him changed and this change brought on guilt. He was your best friend! You couldn’t feel that way about him though he certainly didn’t help. Friends would point out how nice to you he was, how easily he’d fold and howd he’d drop anything just to help you. All of that made your heart beat and yetYou never thought anything of it. You’d do the same. It was just something between friends, no? Miguel’s brown locks slicked back and his glasses sat on the tip of his hooked nose as he stared at you with those soft eyes of his. “Ready?”

Your cheeks flared when he reached over to touch your shoulder. “Yeah- yeah,” you nodded.

The sky faded into darkness when you finished studying with Miguel, it was chilly too as you walked through campus over to the dorm you shared. “Damn- it’s freezing,” you rubbed your hands together, breaths coming out in white clouds. Miguel laughed, casually taking your hands in his larger ones. His palms were like heaters- unusually warm. He leaned closer to you, the redness of his cheeks not going unnoticed. “Better?”

A blush came upon you face and you leaned on his shoulder. “Mhm, aren’t you cold?” Miguel just wore a sweater with a plaid scarf wrapped around his neck and a pair of gloves, gloves he always wore ever since last summer. He shook his head. “It doesn’t bother, we’re close to home either way so it’s not like we’ll be out for too long.” You nodded, mumbling a soft ‘true’ and kept walking with his masssive hands around yours.

Arriving home, you plopped onto the couch and leaned your head back. “I’m beat,” you mumbled, looking over at your best friend who was taking off his scarf.

God his back looked good from that angle- his waist too…

“Yeah- I’m gonna go to bed, actually,” Miguel yawned. You tilted your head. “Already? It’s only nine?” You said as he walked over to his room. “Gotta get my beauty sleep- I’m a busy guy,” he said sarcastically though there was some truth to his words. Miguel was a genetics genius so his classes were difficult, not to mention all the internships he had at various scientific facilities. “I think you’re plenty beautiful, tiger,” you snickered, he laughed too. “Gracias, mami.”

You turned back to the tv when you heard the soft click of his lock. Bored, you switched on the tv. It was all news about this masked vigilante- Spider-Man they called him. You’d been hearing about him a lot recently for the past four weeks. “Huh,” you said, and continued watching.

-

Miguel had changed into his suit soon after he left you to his own devices. The night hadn’t been too eventful, he prevented a couple robberies which he’d tracked with the help of Lyla- his AI.

“So-“ A yellow light emerged from Miguel’s wrist, illuminating his masked face. “You ever gonna tell your girlfriend about…” She waved her arms around. “This?” Miguel scoffed and looked away, thankful for the mask hiding his cheeks. “No- and she’s not my girlfriend.” Lyla laughed, her avatar flickering to her now lying on her stomach with her palms resting on her cheeks. “You can’t hide this from me, big guy. I monitor your heart rate and it always spikes up whenever you’re around her. Coincidence? I think the shock not!”

Miguel swatted the hologram which only flickered in response. The AI hummed in amusement, swinging her leg in deep thought. Miguel’s fangs barred underneath his mask but sheathed soon after. “That doesn’t mean anything,” He mumbled. Lyla rolled her eyes. “Well according to my tracking software- I’ve also picked up rises in temperature, clammy hands-!”

“Okay!” Miguel grunted. “Shock- I get it.” Lyla smiled triumphantly, flickering over to the top of his head where he gave it a little pat. “Lucky you, I have several algorithms that should be foolproof in asking her out!” That made Miguel laugh. His ai didn’t comprehend his deep insecurity and for some odd reason that was a little heartwarming to him. “Don’t overestimate me, Lyla. (Y/N), she’s- she’s way out of my league. I don’t wanna risk years of friendship because I can’t control my own feelings.” He sighed.

The hologram frowned. “Hey don’t say that,” Lyla hugged his head but all Miguel felt was the warm heat from the light and the pain in his chest. He took out his wallet and gazed into the senior prom night picture. “Shock, I looked like such a dork,” He laughed. You were still so beautiful, hell- you were even more beautiful now. Miguel swallowed, hope blooming in his chest. “What’re those foolproof plans of yours anyways?”

Lyla’s eyes lit up and she scoured her files. “Oh I am so glad you asked.”

[twig-gy]

so mind was repainting his walls last week. he dragged me in his room as if it was some kind of intervention, but he just wanted me to watch. what? him painting the walls? seriously? it was silly. even if you disregard how WRONG it is, for him to do that, for him to throw that little bit of whole away, it was just silly! like, the walls didn’t need to be repainted! there were a few scratches, a few places where the paint peeled, dents and stuff, but like. not enough for such a practical thing like the mind to bother repainting it when he has so much better to do! he was working on a song. i think be born? i don’t know why he chose be born, we don’t like be born, as you would expect from every tally hall fan ever. anyway, so he was working on a cover of be born, i saw the sheets. he uses these really tidy sheets, mechanical pencil. it fits him. such a minute detail, it seems to fit. of course he would use a mechanical pencil. a normal pencil isn’t dignified enough, i guess. and a pen isn’t erasable which sucks when you’re doing something like music. why is he working off of sheet music anyway? it confuses me. i got sidetracked.

so he has better things to do, and yet, he was repainting the walls? he didn’t even ask me, just kind of snatched my hand. it was really like something heart would do. he was getting into my space, just kind of arranged me on his bed, and i didn’t go. i don’t know why i didn’t go, i could’ve. i’m far stronger than him - that is to say, he’s a weak motherfucker who loses in any kind of fair fight. but i just sat there, staring as mind’s blue slowly overtook whole’s color. it felt like a metaphor, and not a pretty one.

did mind want to eradicate whole so thoroughly? fucking fool’s errand, but heart and mind are fools, mind’s just a bit more subtle about it. usually, when he’s not forcing me to watch him repaint his room. his room. it’s whole’s room, truly. whole’s walls, and it was whole’s color. mind doesn’t get it. he thinks he can do whatever he wants. even heard heart calling him dawn the other day. i detest it! like, truly detest it. it’s so stupid. dawn? what was he saying, he is the dawn? when the sun rises? beginnings, golden light spilling through his window? oh, look out your window and see me? HE DOESN’T DESERVE A NAME. AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE LIKE THAT. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. that is not the beginning. what about whole? what about Him? it’s as if heart doesn’t care. and maybe he doesn’t. i’m SORRY i tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. cause i looked at his feathers and thought, just for a little halfsecond, oh. maybe there is a chance after all. but no! those two are so obstinant i want to claw my own skin off. so arrogant? you think you deserve a name? wearing stolen faces.

{what are you trying to show me,} i had asked mind, cause i know he would be doing that - that’s just what the mind does. nothing without purpose. he tapped the paintbrush on the wall. the paintbrush splattered a bit. it struck me. not as neat as he usually is. in fact, that’s something the heart would do. regardless, i was sitting there, just waiting. maybe he hadn’t logicked this out after all. maybe he just wanted to see me? ha. i hope not. [change.] is what he returned. [i can change these walls.] there was a breath. i’d say He was taking one too. it doesn’t quite make sense, in those words, but that was the feeling i had. i could hear Him. and mind was shutting him out. [and you can too.] he was obviously really hesitant with it, immediately turning back to the wall as if avoiding my expression. what did he think i would think? {oh, you’re so right mind. thanks for showing me this.} HA. i tried to leave. his desperation surprised me. [just hear me out. just hear me out,] and he was barely skirting around the please, as if i wouldn’t notice. [you’ll see.] something in it convinced me. he was pleading to something that would never listen, and yet he went on pleading. it doesn’t matter what it was about it, cause next time i’ll make sure i’m not convinced by it again.

but it was just him and me and his little art project, so i sat down. of course, i wasn’t convinced. but a smile was twitching at his lips, as if this was a little win. war of attrition. but i refuse to break down - pity for him, isn’t that.

[fireinthefireproofvault]

Hammelburg University Chapter 1 (Hogan's Heroes College AU)

(My first Hogan's Heroes fic 🥳 Nothing too deep or revolutionary, just wanted to have some silly fun! This chapter is mostly just introductions and setup before we really get started hehe~)

For all they said about Germany, they sure had nice labs. The H.U. laboratory spaces were nothing like the little rooms with chipped white-painted tables and a few beakers and microscopes back in Indiana community college. Real equipment walled the whole place and even sat as decoration if the spectrometer on the professor's desk was anything to go off of. Heck, that was the most advanced spectrometer Andrew had ever seen, not that he'd ever really seen one in person before. But if he had, he was sure it wouldn't be as fancy as that. Too bad they wouldn't need it for this class.

This class. At the thought, he gulped, nerves shooting back up, but they were quickly interrupted by the scrape of the chair at his side. Oh boy, a neighbor! Lab partner! Little guy. Short dark hair and dark eyes. Neatly kept. All his pencils were lined up and his textbook looked positively immaculate. Must be smart.

"Some class this is gonna be, huh? I'm a little scared, to be honest."

"Don't tell me you took this class as an elective." Snippy as the words, lightly accented, could have been, they were delivered with humor and a smug little smile that had Andrew smiling back.

"No way! I'm a Chem major. I have to take stuff like this the whole time. I had my choice for this slot, so I thought 'why not biochem?' It's the kind I know the least about. What about you?"

"For my major, too, though I had no choice in the matter. All the medical majors need a good foundation."

"Medical? Wow, are you going to be a doctor?"

"In a sense," the little guy smiled again, this one devoid of humor in lieu of something sweeter and more idealistic, "Veterinary Science."

"Ooh, that's great! My aunt had a great vet when her dog got sick- said it made all the difference in the world. Gave him five stars on Yelp and everything! Bet you'll get five stars too one day."

"There's just one little hurdle to get past."

"What's that?"

"I still faint at the sight of blood."

~

The classroom was pretty standard.  Close enough to what they had back in the States and clearly set up for the debates that Robert so anxiously looked forward to.  Big part of why he was a law student, after all.  Not one, but two podiums stood eyeing down the sea of chairs waiting for their chance to see their bearers take the stage, verbally and psychologically duking it out.

As it stood, first class was always for introductions.  Assessing the strengths and weaknesses of all the other students.  A cursory glance around the already-filled seats found Robert a fun one, urged his feet forward to the seat he’d claim for the semester’s duration.

Eager look.  Short, dark hair prematurely thinning a little bit.  Pity.  Black hair, blue eyes, proud features made infinitely more haughty by, of all things, a monocle.  Slight upturn in the nose working with the tiny lens and its accompanying squint to paint the picture of one attending a prestigious university on daddy’s money.  Oh, yes, Robert liked the looks of this one.

“Lemme guess— long line of lawyers?”

The young man looked startled, tilted his head with puzzlement as he fixed Rob with a good straight-on look for the first time, taking in his mild, quizzical smile and cheekily raised brows before raising his own.

“How did you know?”

Nailed it.  His voice managed to come across simultaneously confident and wavering.  Money.  German accent, too— perhaps a Hammelburg native?  No, not with clothes that nice.  That turtleneck was practically hand-tailored the way it hugged his lean figure.  Probably Berlin.

“All the best lawyers go here,” Robert pointed out, “And who better to usher in the next generation than the guys who already made their millions?  Robert Hogan, by the way.  Friends just call me Hogan.”

“Wilhelm Klink.”  The young man opposite Robert straightened.  Paused.  One moment, two.  A wide smile.  “Friends just call me Klink.”

“Sure they do,” Rob smiled back, giving a little shake of his head, “The gang back in Berlin?”

Repeat performance.  “How did you know?”

“I’m psychic.  Would you like me to read your palm next?”

~

“Need some help with that?”

Peeling his eyes from the teetering textbook-student union tray-starbucks spread between both arms, Kinch was met with the sight of a guy in a long blue coat and, curiously, sporting a watch on each wrist.  Cocking an eyebrow, he smiled coolly.

“Sure, if you don’t mind grabbing the starbucks.”

“Heading to a table?”

Judging by the accent, the timepiece connoisseur was a bloke from England.  Hammelburg University boasted a surprising number of international students.  Students like Kinch himself, not that Mister Fish and Chips had as much to prove.

“Yeah,” Kinch nodded, “Any by the wall?”

“Your wish is my command.”  Waving a hand, the brit guide-dogged Kinch to the edge of the student union, spilling not a drop of his starbucks even as he swept all the trash and napkins off the table with a flourish, holding up a finger.  “But for a price.  I need the outlet, too.”

“Be my guest.”

“Good thing I’ve got an hour here.  My phone’s almost dead,” he remarked as he plugged in.

“Me too,” Kinch told him, “I don’t suppose you’re in Econ 1?”

Those big blue eyes widened alongside the grin beneath them.  “Well, how do you like that?  Have you bought your textbook already?  If so, have I got a proposition for you.  Peter Newkirk, by the way.”

“The artist formerly known as James Kinchloe.”

It was Peter’s turn to cock an eyebrow at that.

“Everyone just calls me Kinch,” the aformentioned ‘artist’ added with a shrug and a sip of his German starbucks, “Now I don’t suppose your proposition has anything to do with sharing a textbook, does it?”

“I like to think of it more like ‘joint study sessions’.  A little symbiotic relationship, if you will.”

Kinch grinned.  “Save that for biology— you’ve already got yourself a deal.”

“Thank you,” Peter rested a hand over his heart, “For saving me from a life of crime downloading illegal PDFs.  That’s the gateway, they always say.”

“I thought that was weed.”

“Yeah, well, I already tried that and I didn’t like it very much.”

“Really?  You?”

“Yeah, don’t like the smell much and it made me a little too—  Oi, wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

~

“What are you looking at?”

“Your ring, of course.  Everything else you have is the same as mine.”

“What about it?  It’s a family crest!”

“Quite ostentatious.”

“Like your sweater isn’t designer!”

“I never said it wasn’t.  You might notice that it is only solid grey, though.”

The young man frowned.  Glanced down and then back up with those suspiciously narrowed brown eyes.  Said nothing, of course.

Albert tried again, extending an olive branch he didn’t particularly mind the acceptance status of.  “Prosecution?”

This time, a tight smile.  “Of course.”

“Then we have that in common.  Albert.”

Albert extended a hand, his seatmate took it.  “Wolfgang.”

“And what are those two in front of us doing?  It looks like…a palm reading?”

“Would you two knock that off?”  Wolfgang hissed at the students seated at the desk directly in front of them, knocking their joined hands apart with his.

The guy in the leather jacket, the one who’d been tracing a finger over the lines of the other’s in a clear display of bullshit, shrugged and fixed Wolfgang with a devil-may-care smile.

“Why, you wanted your turn?”

Had this been a cartoon, Wolfgang would surely have had one of those little veins drawn upon his forehead.  “The professor just walked in!”

“Ah,” Leather Jacket nodded, tilting his head in mock thought, “You’re right.  I should do him next— might get me some extra credit.”

Snickering to himself, Albert gave one final glance between Wolfgang and Leather Jacket and shook his head.  Wouldn’t this be a fun semester?

~

The paths between buildings—towering, old, and stone—were immaculately paved and clean.  Not a wad of gum or piece of trash in sight, at least not where Robert and Wilhelm exited their class.  Only smooth, evenly spaced light grey stones to greet his boots with each tap toward the student union.  They’d even put in flower beds along the way, filled with bright blue cornflowers of all things.  Ugh.  Robert shook his head before glancing back Wilhelm’s way.

“Hey, how about an after-class starbucks?  My treat.”

“But you came in with a starbucks,” Wilhelm protested.

Robert shrugged.  “Yeah, but the barista was so hot, I’m kinda hoping she’s still working.  Campus sure knows how to make their money.”

“She was… that pretty, huh?”

“Gorgeous.  Enough to give anyone a caffeine addiction.”

“Alright, if you really want to spend your money on me, who am I to say no?  Lead the way,” Wilhelm replied, sweeping a hand toward the student union.

“And lemme guess, your usual’s a venti with a lot of add-in shit?”

“Hazelnut syrup is not shit!”

“Sure, man,” Robert smirked, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, “Sure.”

He watched Wilhelm stew in his thoughts— whatever those were— all the way up that neat trail and between the great glass union doors.  All up those old wooden steps, heavy and sturdy beneath the weight of every student passing through them.  Starbucks awaited at beyond the stairwell’s open arms.  Those and the long-ass line winding out the doors and nearly out to the study tables.

“Long line.”

“I see that.”

“If you wanna pass the time, we could finish your palm reading,” Robert offered, extending his hand.

Squinting down at it, then back up into his eyes, Wilhelm said, “Forget it” and promptly pulled out his phone.  iPhone 16.  Tch.  Leaning over his shoulder when they shuffled forward in line, Robert watched a tiktok alongside him.  One of an older guy playing a classical violin.

“He’s good,” he remarked with a nod down to the screen, “You like the violin?”

Pulling his phone away, turning it off and sliding it into his pocket, all while maintaining firm eye contact, Wilhelm broke into a proud grin.  “Like it?  I play it.  I’m a music minor.”

“Oh, yeah?  Do you have any videos of yourself playing?”

What followed was an entire caffeine-and-sex-driven shuffle into corporate coffee purgatory soundtracked by the pained cries of a tortured violin cradled beneath the loving grip of Wilhelm, who for the first time Robert wondered at the possibility of deafness.

“So?  What do you think?”

“I think you’re next to order,” Robert deflected, scooting him closer to the counter, where a second, different hot barista stood, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Wait,” Wilhelm floundered, turning back, “What do I say?”

“Venti with three pumps of extra shit, remember?”

“One venti with three pumps of extra sh-  Hmph!”  Wilhelm waved a hand.  “Who needs you?”

“Her, if I’m lucky,” Robert shot back with a smile and a nod to Hot Barista Two, whose name tag read Hilda, “One grande Americano…”

“For the grande Americano?”  Wilhelm mocked, arms crossed tight along his turtleneck.

“Hey, I like that!  Mind if I steal it?”

Hilda giggled, asking Wilhelm to repeat his order one more time before taking their pay and waving them off.

“What, do you follow all those ‘how do you open’ accounts on twitter?”

“Stick with your violin videos, that’s all weird incel shit.”

“Weird incel sh— whoa!”

Before the two of them could even bustle past the line and find a table, someone had bumped into Wilhelm, sending a bit of his venti hazelnut mocha splattering onto his loafers.

“Dummkopf!  These are expensive,” he whined, waving a pitiful hand over them instead of acting.

Handing him a napkin, Robert got a good look at the guy who’d crashed into them.  Big guy, tall and broad-shouldered.  Just broad in general.  Large hands held at his sides, he peered down with wide blue eyes at Wilhelm’s wealthy angst.

“I was not trying to!  I swear I just wanted to go find a table.  I did not even see you!  I saw nothing!  I did not even see my own feet.”

“Yeah, I bet.  You’re fine.  Wanna come sit with us?”

“Robert,” Wilhelm was still whining, “Why?”

“Answered your own question, buddy,” Robert responded, slinging an arm around him and standing him back up, marching their little troupe of three over to the array of tables, all of which seemed to be occupied by study groups, couples, and the like.

“’ey, Schultzie, looking for a table?”

The voice, eager and British, belonged to a guy in blue who was wearing two watches for some reason.  Sat across from him was a guy about the same age, handsome and dark-skinned, clad in a jacket and beanie, and seemingly working on a mustache.

“Friends of yours?”

“Yes,” the big guy replied with a smile, “From my Econ class!”

“Look at us,” Robert said, arms still around both German students as he marched them over, “Day One and already a big happy family.”

[mercurygray]

What Friends Are For

It's a normal afternoon at the airfield, with administration staff running errands and a baseball game in the outfield, until a replacement plane brings a new pilot...and a new perspective on an old face.

It had been the most normal afternoon in the world before the plane came in.

The day’s mission (a milk run of a diversion route, hardly worth worrying over) wasn’t due back for several hours, and everyone who’d been left off the roster was taking advantage of the July sunshine. There were men napping in deck chairs outside the Aero Club and half of a baseball game in the newly mown infield, a strange sense of peace smoothing over everything - until Anita’s voice was heard coming in over the tannoy that everyone was to clear the field and the runway for a flight in from Framlingham.

A wild scramble started at the Aero Club and the motor pool, a jumbled rush for jeeps and bicycles and anything else that could get you to the tarmac as fast as possible. Framlingham meant replacement planes, and replacement planes meant ferry pilots - and ferry pilots just might be female.

Two to a plane, a pilot and and a co-pilot who could run radios in a pinch. It was a job for flyers who were not quite 1A, not exactly front line and not exactly behind it either, and the Air Forces had decided that before they saddled their walking wounded with the indignity of being singled out for noncombat flights, they’d let the women do it. Look nice in the papers, wouldn’t it - fresh-faced young woman straight from college airfields and the Ninety-Nines clubroom. Girl flyers to ferry planes for bomber boys. It would be allowed that they were just level headed enough to fly the plane from point A to point B, but combat duty would be a bridge too far. Handling one of the heavies in anything stronger than a swift breeze was a job for men, not women. (Until someone needed to motivate the men, in which case - it’s so easy they’ve got girls doing it.)

And besides all that - it might be good for morale, to have a couple of cute faces around.

The baseball players made it in first - Egan and DeMarco and Biddick, shirts off and baseball gloves abandoned at the side of the tarmac while the B-17 touched down, slowing steadily and then turning on to the taxiway, one of the crew chiefs waving it down to an open hardstand to give it another once over. The crowd followed. “I call dibs if one’s a blonde,” Dickie was heard to say to his co-pilot, Curt shoving him playfully and telling him where he could put it.

They waited a ways off while the propellers stopped spinning, the familiar whine of the engine dying down until the silence said it was safe to approach.

A figure in Santiago blue emerged from the hatch near the nose, bag tossed on the tarmac and landing with a soft thump on the ground. (More than one man was thinking about how nice those legs looked, getting down out of the plane.)

“Still fun though, wasn’t it?” the woman was asking, waiting for another person to join her on the ground, fixing her gloves and loosening her jacket.

“God, yes,” the second voice agreed, the smile in her voice hardly trying to hide. “I forgot how much.” A second bag, a second pair of legs - but the face that went with it made every single man there pull up short.

Benny got there first. “Callaway?”

Sure enough, there she was - Cordelia Callaway, last seen on a truck south to Wing Headquarters at Horham, trying to brush the creases out of her trousers and shoving a pair of leather pilot’s gloves into her coat pockets. It was strange to see her away from her tower, and perhaps stranger still to see she was pulling down both her briefcase and a navigator’s board, its pencil hanging by a string.

“She was going my way,” the pilot in blue offered, as if some kind of apology were needed. “We were short-handed and it seemed silly to make an old friend wait for the truck.”

The answer provoked more questions than answers, but no one quite seemed to know quite what to ask - or how. “Are you gonna introduce us, Lieutenant?” Gale asked breezily, joining the party with his cap still on and a book tucked under his arm. “Some of us like to pretend we still have manners.”

Cord, too, was a little off balance. “This is Laura Simpson. She’s a... friend of mind from back home. Laura, this is Major Gale Cleven - Captain Benny DeMarco - Lieutenant Curtis Biddick - Lieutenant Dickie Snyder...and Major John Egan. They’re all pilots here at the 100th.”

“You any relation to the Laura Simpson whose father’s an admiral?” Dickie asked, as Laura went around shaking hands.

“Guilty as charged,” the pilot replied. “Hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“And how do they have you flying for the Army?”

“Nepotism only gets you anywhere if your uncle’s a six star general,” Laura said, grinning at her own joke. “The Navy won’t let me near a plane, much less the carrier to put it on - and believe me, Daddy asked. So it’s all Army, all day for this gal. I don’t mind it much, as long as I’m flying. Besides,” she added, with a wink for effect, “I have it on good authority the boys are cuter on this side of the war.”

That won some points - the smiles got wider and at least one man stood up just a little taller. “Are you going to stick around for dinner, Miss Simpson? The cuter boys always have room for another pretty face,” Dickie offered, obviously trying hard to get the last word in.

“Well, it is the last flight of the day for me,” Laura said, shrugging. “And it just so happens I brought my party clothes, too.”

“I should get going,” Cordelia said quietly, adjusting the grip on her briefcase and hefting the navigator’s board under her arm. “I’ve got film for Bowman and Brennan.”

“I’ll catch you later,” Laura promised. “I’m sure these fine gentlemen will get me over to the women’s quarters in one piece.” She looked around with a winning smile. “Someone going to offer to carry my bag?”

Three hands went up, but Curt’s went straight to the bag itself, which made him the winner, and the whole group set off back to base, Dickie jogging around to retrieve the rest of the baseball gloves.

“Mighty nice of you to jumpseat Callaway back to us, Miss Simpson,” Bucky said with a smile, his long stride loping a little to keep pace with Laura, who wasn’t nearly as tall as him.

“Oh, I didn’t jumpseat anyone,” Laura said strongly, smiling slightly herself. “She drove.”

There were stares, and Bucky actually lost a step. “Callaway’s not a pilot, she’s a flight control officer.”

His stare was just this side of predatory, his dark eyes focused and narrow, but Laura still laughed. “If you think that’s true, there’s a lot about Cordelia Callaway you don’t know, Major.”

“Enlighten us, then,” Curt offered, as generous with his smiles as he’d been with his carrying of her bag.

Laura met his eye with a generosity of her own. “Buy me a drink later and maybe I’ll tell you, Lieutenant.”

Later was after they’d let her fill out paperwork with Jack Kidd about the plane she’d just brought in, and let him make the necessary calls for a seat on a truck headed back to Framlingham so she could be returned to the ferrying roster tomorrow, and after Captain Brennan had made sure there were quarters ready in the women’s block and filled her in on the rest of the base’s amenities. And finally, after all the ts had been crossed and is had been dotted and her bags had been left in the women’s quarters, it was just close enough to happy hour that the whole party found themselves in the officer’s club for a few drinks before dinner.

“So how does an admiral’s daughter end up knowing a WAC from Ohio?” Curt said with single-minded focus, once the drinks had been poured and seats had been found near the fireplace. “Because there ain’t a lot of naval bases in Dayton, the last time I checked.”

“We met on the East Coast air race circuit,” Laura offered plainly, glancing around to blank and confused stares. "You all really don't know who she is, do you?" She laughed and took a sip of her whiskey. "Cord Callaway is the 1939 Cleveland Powder Puff women's pylons champion. She's not just a pilot - she's a racer. And an acrobat, while we’re talking."

"You're shitting me." That was Bucky, sitting back in his chair.

"Not for a moment," Laura assured him. "She's one of the best fliers I know. She did the course at Cleveland and took five seconds off the standing record that year - and she did it in last year’s plane."

"So what the hell's she doing up in a control tower?"

"You'd have to ask her that, Lieutenant Biddick. I only know part of the story."

“So share the part you know,” Bucky advised.

Laura looked around at the waiting faces and settled into her chair. “You all know she grew up at Wright Patterson, right? Her old man’s an engineer there - helps run tests on government contract models. She grew up flying - took lessons from officers at the base when her dad was working late. Practice something long enough and you get good at it, and she got good. The guys who were teaching her were all test pilots - taught her rolls and spins, and she got good at those, too. The Air Force usually sent a couple of guys to Cleveland, and one year she went with. They let her take one of the planes out as a joke, and she smoked three quarters of the field - no one knew who she was or where she’d come from. Next thing you know she’s got a Ninety-Nines membership and an invite to the next meet and one of the guys at Curtis is talking to her about flying their plane - once they find out she’s Wilson Callaway’s daughter. They figure that making it easy enough for a girl to fly will be a selling point.” She smirked. “It’s not just six star generals and admirals, you know.”

Bucky cut in. “Get to the part about the tower.”

If Laura seemed surprised by his insistence she didn’t say anything, just kept on with the story. “Jackie Cochran had reached out to a number of us in...was that the same year? I think it was. Wanting to talk about flying for England - ferrying duties. I didn’t feel like it, but then Nancy Love reached out...maybe a year later, a year and a half, about doing the same thing stateside, after Arnold asked her, and that sounded good to me. I called around to see who else I might be seeing, and I thought for sure Cord would be game, but she - she said she wasn’t doing it, that she was joining the WAC instead to do air traffic.” She paused, took a sip of her drink. “There was ...a guy she’d been mentioning a lot, and apparently there’d been an accident. He was due to join his squadron in a week.” Laura took another sip of whiskey, ice clipping around in her glass. The entire group had gone silent. “Captain James Chapman. Jimmy. When your number’s up, I suppose.” She raised her eyebrows and finished the rest of her whiskey. “And that’s what I know about that. If you want whatever’s left of the story, you’ll have to get it from her.”

It was a somber note to end on, but the mess sergeant was ringing the bell for chow, and man by man they trooped out to the dining hall, Curt and Dickie having apparently claimed the right to have Laura sit at their table. By the time they got to dinner everyone was talking and laughing again.

--

The officer’s club certainly wasn’t crowded after dinner, but Bucky still slid into the seat directly next to Cord and made himself comfortable watching Laura with her current dance partner across the room. For a moment the two sat in silence. “I think Curt’s getting ready to propose to your friend,” Bucky said, casually.

The observation made her glance up in alarm. He was right - Curt looked very serious indeed, his hand gently cradling hers as the two danced. “Someone had better tell him to save it,” she warned. “Laura’s already spoken for. She’s got a boyfriend over in Fighter Command with a right hook that’s just as good as Curt’s.”

Bucky seemed to be considering it for a moment, but he remained in his chair, his eyes fixed on Cord again. “You know, she’s telling some wild stories about your course record in Cleveland, Lieutenant.”

Cord met his eye for a moment in fear, her eyes quickly falling back to her drink. “I wish she wouldn’t,” she said, softly.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Bucky leaned over the table, his glass in both hands. “About being a pilot?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“So then why’d you give up flying?” Bucky wasn’t taking no for an answer here, clearly trying to understand more. “They would have let you, same as her. Was it this guy - this guy Jimmy?”

The name made her freeze for a moment, a deer under the hunter’s eye. “She told that story, too?”

Bucky nodded and leaned back in his chair again. “I have to say, I’m kinda struggling to picture you breaking your heart over a boyfriend, but what do I know?”

“That’s not why I did it.” Her tone was almost harsh. “It wasn’t a broken heart, and he ...wasn’t my boyfriend.” She said all this like that would be the end of the matter, and then made the mistake of glancing at Bucky, who said nothing, spreading his hands and raising his eyebrows like he was inviting her to say more. “It was an accident,” she said, finally. “A terrible, perfectly avoidable accident.” Again he said nothing, the silence guilting her to speak. “Control gave him and the next pilot in the flight pattern the wrong approach angle and windspeed - they collided in midair.”

If Bucky had a smart reply to that, he couldn’t immediately find it, and Cord, for once, looked vindicated. Every pilot worth his salt knew you invited trouble by talking about air accidents, and what she’d just described was one hell of a mistake. “Decided then war didn’t need more pilots,” she added, draining her drink with a bitter look. “It needed more people to get them back on the ground safe.” She scraped her chair backwards and stood up, leaving the empty glass between them. “I’m going to bed. I think Laura knows where she’s staying. Don’t let her get into too much trouble.” And then, just like that, she was gone, and Bucky was left alone at the table, staring at her wake. Plane crashes, pylons champions... Cord Callaway, a pilot!

The music wound down and Laura flung herself into Cord’s vacated seat, flushed and smiling and breathing heavily, a fresh glass in her hand. “You look like a man trying to figure something out, Major.”

“I am,” Bucky decided, sitting up a little and smoothing out his jacket. “I’m trying to figure out how the two of you are friends when you’re goddamn delightful and Callaway is -”

Laura rolled her eyes. “She’s not always like that, you know. She’s got a big job up there, and she takes it very seriously.” She brushed a hair out of her eyes and took a long sip of her drink. “You know, Cord talked a lot about you, on the way over,” she said, watching Bucky for signs of life. He looked up in surprise. “I mean, she talked about everyone, but she talked a lot about you in particular, Major Egan.”

Bucky scoffed. “Well, that’s not surprising. I’m a stone in her shoe. She trying to warn you off me?”

Laura shook her head. “She’s lived around pilots her whole life, Major. Cowboys and showoffs aren’t new.” Another pause, another drink. “No, I think it’s something else. You’re the guy they look up to - the one who’s invincible, who tells them it can be done and then does it. That’s how Jimmy was. And she saw what losing him did to the other guys with him.” She sat up a little in her chair and leaned over the table. “Did she tell you the part of the story about how she met his mother afterwards? She and his father were coming to see him off - missed the telegram. Instead of a vacation they got their son in a box, before he’d ever even got to the war. So she doesn't do it to be an ice queen, Major Egan. She does it because however she feels about you, she respects what you do. And I think - no, I know - that she cares about you. Maybe not that way - but she cares."

She gathered up her glass and moved off, to the table that Dickie and a few of the others were sharing, leaving Bucky to wonder in peace about secrets, and friends who shared stories, and just what kind of guy Jimmy Chapman must have been, to make a girl give up flying for him.

[ari-cuno]

HAPPY (LATE-) BIRTHDAY AIM!!!

To celebrate I spedran a little drabble to celebrate the boys day^^

***

Fresh snow fell gently outside the foggy windows in the living room, obscuring the warm light of the fireplace. Axel tossed a piece of construction paper into the trash can next to him, sighing heavily as pixels buzzed around him. Several arts and crafts materials were thrown out onto the coffee table in the center of the couches, and he made sure not to spill the several containers with beads and charms for bracelets all over the floor, knowing his parents would give him an earful for it.

The little skeleton found himself at odds with himself, a pen taped to the side of his skull as the young boy attempted to start on a new piece of paper, taking out one of his mom's several pencils. Snow continued to trickle down outside, despite the questionable weather conditions the Omega timeline provided its residence. 

Winter was always one of his favorite times of the year. It was cold out and it made him sleepy ever since he was younger. It was still magical, of course, 5 years of growth didn't mean he wasn't a kid still. He liked the feeling of snowflakes landing on his face, and part of him wondered if maybe he should go outside, have some fun and think about this gift a little less. Axel frowned as he looked down at the drawing he'd worked so hard on, crayons and markers strung about as he'd forgotten to put them away before writing his card. 

He continued to stare as he folded the paper in half, getting ready to decorate the front with stickers, tapes, and glitter. Did he get the features right? The drawing contained two little figures in the center with big, happy grins. It conveyed happiness and love, the pair surrounded by little hearts and stars. The little skeleton could recognize himself well enough. He'd drawn himself in his old clothes he'd worn up until recently, the warm coat, the simple yet comfy pants, and a scarf resembling his father's. But he felt his face warm up staring at the other figure, little orange pupils staring back at him. 

He remembered they were orange, a sort of Mac and cheese color he found silly to point out, but the other skeleton had found his little joke funny, and something about that made him smile. Did he still wear overalls? Axel had worked hard drawing the set, finding it incredibly difficult and painstaking. No matter how much his mom taught him, he could never really get the hang of drawing certain things. Despite this, Axel was proud of his achievement. 

“...I wonder how you're doing.”

“How who's doing?” A little voice asked next to him. 

Axel made a sound of surprise, trying to jump up but catching his knee on the edge of the table, a small wince coming from the ten year old's mouth. “Ow!! Aelis! Don't do that!” He cried out, before her words registered in his head. “No one! I'm just- making…something.” He trailed off. 

His little sibling gave him a pleasant little stare, a mug held in her small hands. The small of chocolate and cinnamon filled his nostrils, and he let out a little huff of disappointment. Aelis was holding a cup of warm hot cocoa, little drops of marshmallows and a swirl of whip cream sprinkled with cinnamon made his mouth water. But no, no chocolate for him, he was stuck with warm milk, or some other non-chocolate based beverage. 

“...Writing?” Aelis asked with a curious glint, peeking over in an attempt to see, but noticing his drawing. “Mmm…who's dat?” She asked, pointing at the foreign orange skeleton. Axel immediately hid the drawing, his face a shade of soft, cool blue. “Go awayyyy! I thought you were supposed to be outside in the snow.” He pointed out. 

“Mhm. Was cold so Mommy got us hot cocoa. They said to come tell you so dey can give you something warm to dwink.” Aelis said, taking a sip of her chocolatey goodness.

Axel blinked in surprise. Was he that focused on his word he didn't even see his sister or hear her open the front door? The snow sounded so much fun to the little glitch, his gaze held longingly towards the outside, where his parents were out with his sisters. But no…he had to put his feelings into words correctly! 

It had been five long years since he'd seen the only skeleton he'd deemed a close friend, despite their short time together. Aim didn't make fun of him, or taunt him, or make him feel bad…he was nice, kind…and Axel had taken the time to make him a little bracelet. 

Looking back, that little thing was held together by string and glue. It surely must've broken by now. But, he'd improved his craft and his string magic. His dad had been kind enough to teach him how to tie knots and use his strings like thread, much like how he made dolls and plushies for him and his siblings. 

Axel looked towards a bracelet and a few other trinkets off to the side, tied together with blue threads and decorated with colorful charms and beads. Three letter beads were threaded together in the center of the bracelet next to two stars, the word simply reading: ‘Aim’. He felt all giddy just thinking about the orange skeleton seeing his creations and actually receiving them. Their time had been cut oh so short from each other, but Aim had no idea how much of an impact his presence made on him. 

His dad didn't understand it, and his mom found his ‘infatuation’ or whatever that meant cute. Axel felt inspiration growing within him as he opened the paper turned card, getting ready to write his new ideas in the blank space. 

“...Should I tell Mommy you don't want it?” Aelis chimed in as she watched her brother. 

“Uh? Oh, yeah, no, I'm good… I don't want anything.” He reassured his little sibling, despite how nice of an idea something warm and sweet sounded. The sound of his sister walking off before heading outside barely registered in his head as he went back to work. 

.

.

. 

. 

. 

Hi, Aim. 

If you're reading this letter, this means that my 

m̶e̶s̶s̶a̶g̶e̶  letter got to you! Do you remember me? I'm Axel, the boy whose name sounds like that silly frog looking thingy? My parents call me that all the time! What's the word spelled? Axolotl! Yep! That's me! It's been 5 years, right? You said your birthday was today, right? Well, I wanted to-

Axel paused as his focus was taken away from the card, hearing the sound of the front door opening this time. He expected to see his younger sibling, but the actual person wasn't who he was expecting. Ink exhaled a frosty breath, wearing a warm coat and their scarf tucked more closely to their body to preserve warmth. 

“You should be playing outside.” His mother said, multi-colored eye lights staring at him as they approached, light sprinkles of show sprinkled across their face. They were holding a cup that smelled sweet and creamy, topped with cinnamon. “Aelis told me you didn't want anything. But I figured I'd bring you something just in case.” The short skeleton said, walking over to them. 

“I'm not hungryyy…” Axel whined, his face warming up as he attempted to hide his work in the making, although his workspace was far too broad to hide well. 

“You haven't eaten since this morning, now drink this, it's eggnog, with no adult drinks, it's nice and warm.” Ink said softly, setting the warm cup down on the table. Axel made a sound of acknowledgement, knowing he couldn't really disobey his mom, besides, a sweet drink did seem really nice…

“If you don't wanna play with dad and your sisters, I'll keep you company here.” Ink said sweetly, offering him the mug. 

“...Thank you.” The little boy mumbled politely, taking the mug, temporarily letting his protective grip on his prized work go. Ink eyed the little mess of art supplies on the table curiously, eyelights shifting shape and changing color as they blinked. They took a second to observe the drawing Axel had placed neatly next to the little charms he'd worked too hard to make on his own. 

“Who's that?” His mom finally asked curiously sitting down on their knees next to him. Axel flinched, putting down his mug in a quick motion. “I- uhm…it's- gift- It's-its not done-” He stuttered out, partially hiding his face in the fabric of his scarf. Ink took a second to remember, looking lost in thought as they studied the features on the other skeleton doodle curiously. It clicked in their head finally. 

“Oh! Is that the little boy you met when you were four?” Ink asked, picking up a pencil from the stack of supplies enthusiastically. 

Axel felt like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “...Maybe.” He fessed up, his face a darker tone of blue. “Wait…I was four? Ugghhh-” He mumbled, knowing he'd have to cross out and erased some words in his yet to be finished letter. 

“Hm…I thought you'd stopped thinking about that kid for a while now, why are you doing this now? It's been a long time.” His mom pointed out, “I'm not saying it's wrong, but you don't even know if he'd remember you.” Ink said, giving his head a little pat of reassurance. 

“It's his birthday today…”

Ink blinked in surprise. “You…remembered that?” They asked, looking a little stunned by his ability to retain that little fact. 

“I don't know, I remember telling him about birthdays and how awesome it was for me. He told me didn't really know other kids his age and so couldn't have a birthday party…so uhmm…” Their son hesitated, looking towards their letter. “...I just…thought even though I can't see him…I want him to know I still wanna be his friend.” Axel said, sounding shaky and a little uncertain. 

Ink's face softened more, “Ah, So what are you doing?” The painter asked, taking another look at the charms on the table. “You've been working with your strings I see.” They commented, picking up the named bracelet and staring at it thoughtfully. Axel gave his mom a hesitant look. 

“I gave him a bracelet when we first met, but it's probably lost or broken by now, so I'm making a new one.” He said with a bit more confidence. “I practiced more like Dad told me, and It's done. I added some stars and sparkles too, and a ring with a star on it!” He said, sounding more comfortable explaining the layout of his work. His mother seemed a little puzzled, tilting their head slightly as their eye lights blinked to a new color. Ink noticed a hot glue gun off to the side, frowning. “Next time you want to use that ask me or Error, that stuff hurts to get on you.” They warned, before pausing. “Wait, huh?”

“Ring!” Axel repeated. 

“Ring?” Ink asked. 

“Yeah, like, the ones you and Dad have? I wanna have matching ones with him too!” Axel declared. 

Ink looked down at the precious piece of jewelry on their finger, breathing out a little laugh. “Oh, Axolotl, I don't think you know the meaning of these rings at all, but do what you want.” They said, enjoying the innocent and puzzled look he flashed them. “Don't worry about it.” Ink said sheepishly, eye lights large with affection. 

“Hmph…” Axel sighed as he looked down at the card he'd been working on, stumped on the little message inside. His look of disappointment was noticed by Ink, who scooted closer to look over the words on the page. 

“Are you trying to write a thank you card?” Ink questioned, twirling the pencil they had picked up from the pile of art supplies. 

Axel nodded, “Yeah…well…it's more of a feelings card…? I guess??” He said quietly, groaning as the pencil he was using to write with broke. He wiped the bits of graphite off the colorful card with slumped shoulders. “Oh? Feelings? Like…a confession?~” Ink said smoothly, giving the little boy a teasing look. 

Axel gave his mom another puzzled look, “What are you looking at me like that for- wait-” He said, realizing what they meant. “EW. Not like that!! No! Nope! BLEH!” He huffed, sticking his tongues out in exaggerated disgust. 

“Haha, if you say so.” Ink said, giving him a comforting nuzzle. “Here, why don't I help you?” They offered warmly. 

“What?” Axel echoed in a puzzled tone. 

Ink replaced Axel's pencil with the one they had taken. “I can help you write, or if you're having trouble figuring out what to say I can help you.” They said, smiling down at him. “You won't get anywhere without some help.” Ink pointed out. 

“But what about playing outside with Oras and Aelis?” Axel asked with sudden 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇, “I mean- I don't need…that much help…I don't know…” He trailed off, bringing the card closer to him as he thought about the importance of his words so carefully. It would be so…so much easier in person, but… 

“Your dad can watch them, besides it gets lonely in here, and I can see none of the pets are keeping you company.” The small painter commented, looking around for Oras’ platypus or the family cat. “I guess…” Axel mumbled with unsure energy, blinking in surprise as the stress pixels around his body fizzled back to normal, or well, normal enough. 

Ink gave him a little boop on the nose, a little smile forming on the boy's face as he looked up at his mother. “See, you stressing like that makes you all glitchy. Seems to me like you do need help.” They said, a smug look on their face. 

“...Maybe a little bit?”

“Great, now, what is it we're writing here?” 

“Oh- well, I wanted to write him a thank you note and just…tell him how I've been and how I feel and it just…isn't coming out the way I like.” Axel sighed, sticking out his tongues in annoyance, “I know what I wanna say from my mouth but-”

“You can't put it into words, right?” Ink concluded, getting into a comfortable position as they moved closer to their precious son. 

“Yeah!” Axel huffed, “Mom, why can't I do it?” He asked innocently, eyes still filled with that same child-like curiosity and joy from all those years ago. “Well, what you put into words and what you speak can mean and sound different, do you want to copy everything you want to say onto the page?” They asked. 

“Well…it'll be too much.” Axel mumbled sheepishly. 

“Ah, well, why don't we leave the really, reaaally important things first? That way there will be room for extra things but you get your most important feelings out of the way first.” Ink said, helping the little skeleton erase some of the unwanted writing he'd started on. 

“Okay!” Axel agreed. 

Snow continued to fall outside, and Axel couldn't help but feel a little more at ease. “Okay then.” Ink said brightly, “Can you tell me the most important things you want to say? I'll write it down since my writing is neater, haha.” They said, tapping the end of the pencil against the wooden frame of the coffee table. Axel gained a deeper blue hue to his face, taking some of the leftover strings he'd been using, tugging and fidgeting with his magical threads. They snapped after a lot of tugging, but it helped calm his nerves. 

“Uhmm…okay…” Axel sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to get the raw emotions out verbally. 

The minutes ticked by, and the soft crackling of fire mixed with their writing let a cozy mood form for the pair. Occasionally their cat came to offer a greeting, but Ink shoo'd the cat away, not wanting her to mess up the several bags of art supplies and ribbons that would be terrible to clean up from the carpet. 

Axel felt much more relaxed now, a small smile on his face as he discussed with Ink openly, his mom listening with silent contempt before turning to write down the snippets of speech on the paper in a neat hand-writing. He'd nearly finished the eggnog his mom gave him before the front door was opened once more, a few sprinkles of snow being able to sneak inside. The little boy could see his dad in the corner of his vision holding the door open as Oras ran inside, dragging Aelis along with her, who was covered in snow bits, her hood looking as if she'd been pelted by a snowball gun. 

“Okay, I think we got everything Axolotl.” Ink said, signing off the corner of the card, and taking the time to doodle a little drawing. 

“Yeah!” Axel said, smiling up at his mother appreciatingly. He turned his attention to the card, a proud look on his face. “Huh?” He noticed his mother doodling, “What's that?” He asked. 

It took Ink a second to respond, but the little being flashed a small smile, setting their pencil down once the doodle was done. Ink had drawned a neat little picture on whatever space was left on the page. There were 4 figures Axel recognized easily; himself in the center, his mother and father off to the side, and his sisters on his other side, all looking chibi and happy. Above the cute doodle was a small message surrounded by bells and ribbons. 

‘Happy holidays from us to you!’

“Do you like it?” Ink asked hopefully. 

“It's great!!” Axel cried out joyfully, giving his mom a big hug, causing them to flinch in surprise with his excitement. “Aw- I'm glad I could help.” They said affectionately, returning the little gesture. 

“Did he finish da weird card?” Aelis asked, sounding exhausted before letting out a little sneeze, shaking some of the show off her body. 

“Yeah- wait, why are you so covered in snow?” Ink asked. 

“Snowball fight.” Error explained, wiping some snow off his shoulders. “That I won!” Oras declared after him, jumping up proudly in the air. He closed the door behind them, letting the warmth of the house take over. Error helped Aelis get some left over ice bits off her head, the five year old letting out another little sneeze to clear her nostrils of any snow. 

“Why don't we eat something? Especially for you, before you catch a cold.” Ink said, looking towards Aelis. Error took his large coat off, hanging it up near the door as he helped Aelis take her gear off. Oras had already put her things by the door, instead focusing on her poor brothers little finished project that he was attempting to put in a little box. “Who's that for?” His older sister asked, gaining everyone else's attention. 

“No one-” He said quickly, hiding the little gift box behind him. 

“Oras, go wash your hands, me and your dad are gonna prepare something warm for you.” Ink said, the little skeleton huffing and running off to the nearest bathroom. “You too, Aelis.”

Aelis followed her sister, running past her brother with another curious look on her face. 

Error offered a brief glance, but didn't seem to question his sons little present, instead accompanying Ink to the kitchen across the living room, their soft talking kept mostly muffled to Axel, who was focusing on cleaning up the mess he'd made with all the stickers and glitter and other little decorations. He grabbed the trash can, throwing away his scraps and other unnecessary objects. Axel could hear his father walking over, standing over him with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “There must be something really special in that box.” He said, taking a second to help Axel put all the art supplies back into the boxes neatly and orderly. 

Axel gave the box a little shake, the card, bracelet, and ring inside moving about. “Mom helped me write my friend a super special card to go along with a present I made with my strings!” He said happily, finishing putting the last items, some sticker sheets, into the arts and crafts boxes. 

“Are you gonna give it to your friend today?” His dad asked, putting the boxes away on a nearby shelf. 

“Yeah-” Axel declared, before pausing. Wait… 

‘How… How am I supposed to get this to him? The whole point is that I can't see him, but I want to give this to him anyway. Why didn't I think about this before? Oh no…’ Axel thought, his face visibly darkening. Error noticed, the tall skeleton frowning. “What's wrong?” He asked. 

“...Nothing…I just…uhm-” Axel hesitated, before an idea blinked in his head. He looked away, fidgeting nervously. “I'll tell you during food time!” He said, trying to wipe the sadness and anxiety off his face.

“Uhmmm, sure, kiddo.” Error said hesitantly, figuring he could trust his son enough and not press on the matter until he was ready. 

The smell of warm soup and some sandwiches made Axel's soul flutter, his mouth watering at the thought of having a nice, warm meal after all that work. He noticed his sisters returning from their trip to wash their hands, looking to be talking. Axel would've paid attention, but he was too busy staring down at the gift in his hands. If he had skin his palms would be sweaty. 

It felt like several hours went by with Axel blanking out, his whole consciousness entirely focused on the perfect little present in his hands. The boy knew his idea had a low chance of success, but..if his mom and dad were willing to hear him out, maybe… 

“Axel?”

Maybe he could get them to-

“Axel!”

“Ah-” He yelped, snapping out of the little daze he'd put himself in. Axel hadn't even noticed Oras had walked over to him until he heard her call his name more than once to finally get his attention. “Y-Yeah?” He said to his younger sister, sounding distracted and a little uneasy. Oras gave him a little huff of exasperation. “I told you that the food is ready! Come onnnnn! You've been staring off randomly for the last…” She paused to count, “-Ten minutes!!” She finished in a lecturing tone. 

“I was thinking!” Axel huffed, his sister dragging him by the scarf over to the kitchen where the rest of the family was already seated and served whatever food they wanted. “Okay, okay! I'm going! Stop pulling on my scarf!” He huffed, holding onto his gift for dear life as he was pulled against his will. 

She finally let him go once they reached the table, the oldest plopping down next to her younger sister and digging into the warm chicken noodle soup served for her in a colorful bowl. Axel took a seat closer to his parents, looking down at the warm food on his plate. He would've eaten, but he knew he had to be brave and force out his question already. A few minutes went by of quiet eating and talking, mainly between the other's as Axel poked at his food, trying to distract himself and come up with the best way to ask, mainly his mom, his question and request. 

“Axel?”

“Hm?” Axel said as his name was spoken, looking towards the one who called him; his dad. Error had a concerned frown on his look, mirroring Ink's own look of faint worry. “Are you gonna eat?” His father asked, gaining everyone else's attention. 

Axel fumbled around with his scarf, looking away. “Yeah! Uhm… I just…wanted to ask…” He hesitated, before slowly bringing the little present out, setting it on the table. “I can't give this to the friend I have on my own…s-so I was wondering if you and mom could do it for me.” He asked shyly, fidgeting with his fingers. 

“The orange boy we haven't seen in forever?” His older sister asked curiously. Error's frown deepened, “You're still thinking about that kid? I thought you'd move on from him.” The tall glitch said in exasperation, before sighing as he watched the look of pure sadness on Axel's face. “Listen, there's reasons why you can't visit him right now, he's somewhere far, faaaar away, and me and your mom aren't supposed to-”

“I promise we'll get it to him.” Ink said brightly. 

“WH- honey please.” Error huffed, glitching with slight irritation, before his gaze softened at the pleading look on his son's face. Ink turned to look at him, eyes soft and optimistic. “Aww, come on Error, look at how much this means to him…” Ink pleaded, bumping against his shoulder in an affectionate manner. 

“You know better than anyone the last time you interacted with that anomalies parents-” Error lectured, pausing as Ink and Axel gave him pleading faces, mainly Axel. 

“Pleeaaaase?” 

Error’s faces gained a tiny tint of blue. “Ugh, fine.” He grumbled. 

“Yay!”

“Don't worry, I won't interact with them for more than ten minutes.” Ink said, taking the present from their son as he gave them a look of joy and appreciation, sighing in relief as he continued to eat. 

“Oh you won't because I'm going with you, I'm not letting you get attacked again.” He mumbled quietly enough so that the other kids couldn't hear. Ink cringed, a nervous laugh coming from the smaller skeleton. “But we haven't seen him in years!” Oras cried out, swallowing a piece of the sandwich she was eating. “Why are you even doing this now?” She asked. 

“Becoming 10- or 9 or whatever is big deal!” Axel huffed, before looking away, “It's his birthday…and I never was able to make anything that would actually reach him. I used to make little gifts that would lay around in my room or a floaty lamp I hoped would reach him but they never did…and ever since mom and dad said I should stop I just kind of forgot after all this time…” The glitchy skeleton said softly, feeling his mom give him a little head pat. “...I just want it to reach him in time.”

“We'll get it to him, me and your dad promise, right?” Ink asked, glancing up at Error. 

“Don't get his hopes up…” Error mumbled before sighing, “We'll try, but let us eat first.” His dad said, a small smile on his face as he stared back at Ink. 

“WHAAAT?” Axel cried out, his voice glitching. 

Ink blinked in shock, “Eh- well you can't expect us to drop everything and go now- you gotta be patient.” They said teasingly. 

Axel let out a groan, sitting back in his chair as Oras gave him a head pat. “Cheer up, Axolotl!” She said in a bubbly tone. 

“Ouuughhh…” Axel mumbled, sitting back in his chair in defeat. 

“Don't worry kiddo, we'll get it to him before the day ends.” Ink offered gently, a determined look on their face. 

“If we can find him.” Error sighed, his arm wrapped around Ink's shoulders, earning an elbowing from his smaller spouse. 

***

Aim moved through the pages in his book with incredible speed, his immersion and focus on the story being at its height as he neared the climax. The little boy sat on his bed, legs swaying back and forth as he turned another page. His Unclemare had given him a new load of books to read on his special day, and although Aim missed the way his uncle would sit with him and read the words out loud, this was fine all the same. 

The taste of chocolate still lingered in his mouth from the slice of cake he'd cut on his own a few hours earlier. He'd heard from his parents about how birthdays were a time where those closest to you could come by and have a party and eat sweets to celebrate another year of your time alive. He…didn't exactly have many friends, but that didn't affect him as badly. 

He had his fathers, his uncle, and when Nightmare had left, Killer, his other favorite ‘uncle’ to interact with had dropped by to give him presents and congratulate him. Reading books and playing and having fun wasn't so bad on his own, no matter how strange it felt seeing other kids playing with others on the rare times his dad's took him around other kids. 

Aim had a whole stack of books left to read, all a wide variety of subjects. Some sci-fi, fantasy, historical fantasy, and even a little classic fairytale to spice things up a little. He hummed a little tune, quickly turning into a little whistle. He was happy his dad hadn't presented the idea of training him like last year. The thought of it made his focus cut away from the words on the page he was on. 

No, he shouldn't think about that, especially when it was his big day. His parents were happy too, and that was good…so he needed to lighten up. 

Aim blinked and shook his head, sighing in disappointment as he lost the spot he'd been reading, having to start all the way back up at the beginning of the page. The clock ticked quietly in his room as he finished the chapter he'd been reading, that excited investment finally back on his face. 

There was the soft sound of some sort of glass shaking and moving next to his bed, starting off quiet and barely audible. 

Aim turned his orange eye-lights to the sound after it got too loud to ignore. A glass container full of paint he kept for art purposes was shaken from the corner it was sitting in, one of the paint bottles inside rattling around quite unnaturally. The little boy stared in bewilderment and confusion, closing his book and sitting up. He grabbed the trembling glassware carefully, taking the lid off to get a better look at the paint bottle looking as if it was having a seizure. 

“What…?” 

Aim attempted to grab it, flinching as it magically jumped out of the container, landing on the floor with a hard smack. He fumbled, putting the glass container with all the other paints down, staring upon the still trembling and moving bottle. Did they have ghosts? Was there a ghost trapped in the bottle? He rubbed his eye a little, wondering if he was just seeing things. 

…Nope, still moving-

BURST. 

The paint bottle suddenly exploded, the green paint inside bursting out and somehow growing in size from the volume that was in the bottle initially. Aim let out a shocked cry as he watched the paint fall to the floor, coating a good portion of the floor an emerald green color. “Waaaaa! Oh no! The mess-” Aim cried out, rushing to go get a towel, before scurrying to a halt as the green paint began to…move? 

The paint made soft ripples on the ground, little bubbles coming from its surface as it looked like something was…forming? 

“Uhm…” Aim opened his mouth, but his confusion turned into shock once more as the paint suddenly shot up into two silhouettes, morphing with strange liquidly sounds until the paint melted off the strangers’ bodies. 

“Oh good! Finally!” One of the…skeletons called with a light, high voice. The skeleton looked all too familiar, strange, multi-colored eyes and a signature splotch on the right cheek. Aim stared in shock, but noticed an even larger skeleton looming over them. He looked annoyed and disgusted with the paint on his body, strange blue streaks running down his face. Aim almost thought he was eternally crying. 

“Ink hurry up-”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Aim screamed in fear, stepping back as there were two random adult skeletons in his room, one he knew all too well. 

“Woah! Hi! Since been such a long time-”

“Leave me aloneeeee! I don't wanna be your friend you're mean!!!” Aim cried out, earning a confused look from the two skeletons before him. “Woah woah! Calm down! I'm not your Ink- or well, the one you know! I'm the cool one! Calm down-”

“Why are you in my room?!” Aim said, his nerves not calming down, trying to process what the slightly kinder looking Ink was saying. Hmmm…this didn't really look like the Ink he knew from his childhood, the one that had abducted him. That skeleton was scary, always having some weird unsettling feeling behind him whenever he spoke, as if his words or intentions weren't always clear in the end. Aim found that out very quickly, remembering the sting in his soul when his father grabbed him… 

But this Ink… there was no maliciousness behind those eyes, in fact, their presence was strangely comforting, a sense of warmth surrounded them, and despite the obvious lack of natural feelings behind their eyes and very being, this felt more…genuine.

…Wait, when was the last time he met another version like this-

“Yeahhhh- haha sorry don't mind him.” Ink said, pointing at the scary and big skeleton standing behind them like a guard. “He's just here to make sure I don't get hurt again!” They said sheepishly. Aim had his hand on the door to his room, having been ready to sprint down the stairs and to his parents for help and safety. He halted, turning to look at them oh so slowly. 

“...Again? W-What are you-”

“ANYWAY. Listen we don't really have enough time, so here-” Ink pulled out a little box from behind them. A little bow was on the top, carefully keeping the present closed. “We hope we're not too late, it is still your birthday, right-”

“AIM! Are you alright?!” A muffled voice came from downstairs, quickly rising as footsteps were heard approaching. 

The man behind Ink tensed, “Ink let's go.” He said sternly, tugging on their scarf. 

“Oh boy- okay listen- this is from someone who really wanted to give this to you! Please open it!” Ink said, handing the present to the little boy, although it was more of a toss. Aim barely managed to catch it, looking down at the little tag taped to the side of the box. For Aim only. 

“Happy birthday and Merry Christmas! I hope you-”

“Ink!”

“I'm going!”

“Who is this- wait!” Aim cried out, hearing the sound of a portal of some sorts being opened. He turned around, watching as the taller skeleton jumped through the other side with them, leaving the paint mess on the floor. He tried to reach out, but the scary looking glitches made him hesitate. No, he needed to know who they were! Why did he feel a strange sense of deja vu he couldn't put his finger on. 

“You can't just leave this here!” He shouted. , watching the portal close up, leaving the space around it back to how it was initially. Aim was left alone in silence, his emotions running wild. Confusion, fear, but part of him found things a little humorous, especially as the paint on the floor was left there. He was looking down at the gift with wonder, eye lights sparkling faintly the more his mind processed the information. 

…Someone had given him a gift? Someone he couldn't remember or didn't know? Guilt filled his chest, maybe it was his uncle playing a prank, or his parents… ? 

Aim yelped as his door was busted open, his parents looking tense and ready for battle. 

All they saw was Aim holding a little present, and a puddle of green paint on the floor, soaking into the carpet the more seconds went by. 

***

Aim looked down at the brand new, pretty bracelet in the box, the little ring tucked nice and close to it, a few decorative pieces of paper being stuffed inside to cushion everything. He held the little bracelet in his hand, eye lights large and full of silent, raw joy. On his nightstand were the remnants of an old bracelet, worn down through time but unforgotten. 

He noticed a handmade card at the bottom of the box and carefully grabbed it, setting the box aside. It was cute and well made, little stickers and decorations littered the back and the front, everything from snowflakes to little peppermint stickers was sprinkled around. Glitter lines the border, and Aim couldn't help but let the excitement grow as he opened the card. 

He saw a little drawing of a skeleton family in a big corner, before his eyes turned to the words written in neat handwriting. Aim's eyes widened. 

Dear Aim, 

My name is Axel! My mom is writing this for me because my grammar and handwriting isn't the best, so don't think it's mine! But I wanted to get you this because, well, it's your birthday, right? You may not remember me, but if you do, I want you to know that I enjoyed our short time together, and you made me feel, well, not weird. I tried giving you gifts before, but my mom says it isn't easy to get things for you, but If you're reading this that means they made it! I gave you a bracelet when I first met you, do you remember that? You were afraid of my mom but we took you back home and I made you a bracelet to make you feel better while they tried to find your home! Well, five year old me had terrible skills, so I wanted to remake it as a way to show I still remember you and want to meet you again, even if it's been forever. Sorry none of my other gifts from previous years made it to you, I promise I'll try to get more for you next year if you can respond somehow. 

I asked my mom if we could invite you for Christmas next year, but your parents have to say yes, so PRETTY PLEASE ask them! Please don't forget about me :[ I miss you a lot. Can we be friends again, even if we might have changed? 

From, 

Axel 

P.S. I luv you and Merry Christmas!!! Please visit next year! 

__________________________________________

Aim belongs to @zu-is-here

Oras, Axel, and Aelis belong to me

Thank you Zu for creating such an adorable little man^^

[mythica0]

Medicine

🎂:fop; a new wish

🧁: Peri

🍫: Dev

Summary: when Peri is grumpy one morning, Dev thinks it’s a prefect opportunity for payback.

A/N: Revenge for Dev!! >:3 I kinda wish this was longer but Y’know it is what it is. Also Im not a fan of the title lol. It sounds so basic.(if you have a better idea comment it or put in your reblog and maybe I’ll steal it and credit u :3)

Medicine

Dev was about to get revenge.

He had now been tickled twice by Peri for being sad. And here Peri was. Sad.

Well, it was more angry or frustrated but that’s basically the same thing!

But he had to do it right. He needed a nice dramatic entrance!

“Hey Peri, what’s bothering ya?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing much, just some stuff with Jorgen. Y’know- work things.”

“Okay then. How bout I help with that?”

“Huh?”

Dev then pounced on the fairy, quickly going for his sides.

“Whahait whahahat?!”

“What was it you said?” He pretended to ponder, “… Doctor tickle monster is here to cure your blues!”

“Whahahat nohohoho! Stohohop!”

Dev smirked, “‘I’m afraid I can’t do that until you’re cured!’” He mocked, “And i think you need a taste of your own medicine!”

“Dehehehev whahahat thehe heheck!”

“Revenge, Peculiar!”

Peri did a double take, “Thahahats nohot myhy nahame!”

“I know. But misnaming is kinda my thing, Pancake.”

Just then, Dev decided to dig into Peri’s tummy, Causing his laugh to drastically increase in volume.

“Oh! What’s this~ you got a ticklish belly too, pinball?” He teased, Smirking as he watched his godfathers face go red.

“MAHAHAYHAHAPS!”

Dev snickered “mayhaps? What kinda silly word is that?”

“I DUHUNOHO! CRAHAHAHAHAP!” His laughter echoed, his wings fluttering rapidly.

“C’mon Pineapple~ it can’t be that bad!”

“YOHOU KNOHOW IHIT IHIHIS!”

Dev shrugged “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“WHAHAT? YEHES YOHOU DOHO, JEHERK!”

“Okay, fine, ya caught me. But that was rude! I think that’s a perfect excuse to try a little something..”

Then Peri heard a deep inhale. “CRAHAP, NOHOHO!”

Dev gave him the biggest raspberry he could muster right in the center of his tummy.

Peri absolutely screamed.

“Wohoah!” Dev giggled “that was so loud! I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town heard you!”

Peri blushed more at the comment, “IHI CAHANT HEHELP IHIT! THAHAT TIHICKLEHES SOHO MUHUCH!”

“Aww~ too bad, Pencil! You’re just gonna have to deal with it~ and hey! I think you’re having fun~ just look at the way your wings are flapping!”

“STOHOP, DEHEHEV!”

“Hmm, let me think about it….No.” Dev smiled, he really enjoyed being a mischievous little fella. Or should I say, Dev-ious?

Peri’s laughter filled the room, flowing from him relentlessly. Dev decided to move to a different spot, moving up towards his underarms.

“I wonder if this’ll tickle just as bad, hmm~”

Peri’s laughter quieted slightly.

“Aww, not as bad. But that’s okay- we’ll just come back to your tummy later.” Dev winked at Peri and his face flushed even more at the thought.

Peri giggled for a while, Curling around himself but never trying to push the kid off of him.

“C’mohohon, kihihid! Cuhuhut ihihit ohohout!”

“Alright, alright..” He slowed down, and then-

He blew another raspberry on his tummy, Scribbling his ribs at the same time.

After he finished the raspberry, he moved his hands back to the death spot, applying the perfect amount of pressure to put Peri through tickle hell. Not that Peri truly minded.

“Ha! Tricked you!”

“YEAHAH, YOHOU GOHOT MEHE, DEHEV PLEHEASE!” Peri was admittedly having fun, but he was reaching his limit.

Picking up on this in his plea, Dev stopped for real this time.

After Peri could actually talk again, Dev looked to him. “You okay? I didn’t go to far, did I?” He looked slightly scared- as if worried he did something wrong.

Peri was quick to reassure him. “Yeah, yeah I’m ok, Dev. You stopped right when I really needed you to.”

Dev let out a breath. “Thank goodness. You feeling any better after that?”

Peri smiled at his godkid, “Y’know what, kid? I am.”

“That’s good. Maybe we should come up with some kinda code so we know when to actually stop, since we both protest too much.”

“A safe word! Excellent idea. What about the stoplight system, it’s a classic.”

“What would that mean?”

“Red for stop, Yellow for slow down, Green for all good. It’s a great way to check up on the lee.”

“Sounds like a plan. Glad you had fun, Peri”

“Oh, Peri? Not Pizza or Prickle or Pristine or something?”

Dev laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you know I was just teasing.”

They both laughed together.

Maybe Peri didn’t mind the taste of his own medicine.

———THE END————————————————

[foolishforyou]

I see that you mention Percy wearing a skirt a couple of times

Any specific headcanons of what he likes to wear :D?

I have so many silly little ideas and none of the words to describe them, so we'll just go for a rough overview! [This all depends on the specific AU btw, because I'm picky over which versions of Percy in my head I'm dealing with]

Skirts! With skirts, I never really go short skirts for Percy, I feel like he'd get self concious about The Legs. So I often go maxiskirt or if I'm stuck in some sort of office AU I make him wear a pencil skirt. Not one of those really short ones, the ones that come with a matching blazer lol. Think clothes a politician would wear but nice actually.

[Another reason I love putting Percy in a maxiskirt is that it can reflect some of his more lax country upbringing and almost make him look hippy which is fun to play with]

Trouser suits and/or skirt suits for work.

Jeans! I think he would not be caught out in jeans because he's terrified about looking unprofessional so his only jeans are really worn and he only wears them around the house. [This is for an adult Percy AU obviously, as a teenager yes I imagine him wearing jeans, but like. Charity shop jeans. Worn jeans. There's holes in the knees and mud on the cuffs jeans.]

Lingerie. 🫶 👐🙌🙏💅

I headcanon my boy would never get the guts to buy it himself, this is a gift from a partner. Nothing with too much lace, or straps or irritating things, but silky things. Smooth, satin things. The colour I will always default to is blue because. Yeah. You can imagine, it'd just look nice.

Shoes, I think he'd eye high heels appreciatively, but he thinks he's a lil too tall [DON'T LISTEN TO THEM YOU'D BE BEAUTIFUL MY GIANT] probably those weird pointy work shoes which look uncomfortable. Idk I haven't got anything concrete for shoes, only that he'd never wear things like crocks. he's a sandals kind of guy.