#Olive toned does NOT MEAN HE'S GREEN

[themultiversebundle]

This is going to be really random but STOP MAKING GANONDORF FUCKING GREEN-

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

10 Ways to Add Sizzle to Your Boring Writing

Writing that sizzles captures the reader's attention and keeps them engaged from start to finish. Whether you're an experienced writer or just starting out, there are several techniques you can use to make your writing more exciting and dynamic. Here are ten detailed ways to add sizzle to your boring writing:

1. Use Vivid Descriptions

Vivid descriptions bring your writing to life by creating a rich, immersive experience for the reader. Instead of relying on generic or bland language, use specific details that appeal to the senses. Describe how things look, sound, smell, taste, and feel to paint a vivid picture.

In Detail:

Visual Descriptions: Use color, shape, and size to create a mental image. Instead of saying "The car was old," say "The rusty, olive-green car wheezed as it pulled into the driveway."

Sound Descriptions: Incorporate onomatopoeia and detailed sound descriptions. Instead of "The music was loud," say "The bass thumped, and the high notes pierced through the night air."

Smell and Taste Descriptions: Use sensory language. Instead of "The food was good," say "The aroma of roasted garlic and herbs filled the room, and the first bite was a burst of savory flavors."

2. Show, Don't Tell

"Show, don't tell" is a fundamental writing principle that means revealing information through actions, thoughts, dialogue, and sensory details rather than straightforward exposition. This approach makes your writing more engaging and allows readers to experience the story.

In Detail:

Actions Over Exposition: Instead of telling the reader "Jane was scared," show her fear through her actions: "Jane's hands trembled as she fumbled with the lock, her breath coming in shallow gasps."

Dialogue: Use conversations to reveal character traits and emotions. Instead of "John was angry," show his anger through his words and tone: "John's voice was a low growl as he said, 'I can't believe you did this.'"

Internal Thoughts: Reveal characters' inner worlds. Instead of "Emma felt relieved," show her relief: "Emma let out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding and sank into the chair, a smile tugging at her lips."

3. Create Relatable Characters

Relatable characters are crucial for keeping readers invested in your story. Characters should have depth, including strengths, weaknesses, desires, and fears. When readers see aspects of themselves in your characters, they're more likely to care about their journeys.

In Detail:

Character Flaws: Give your characters realistic flaws. A perfect character can be boring and unrelatable. Show how these flaws impact their decisions and relationships.

Character Arcs: Ensure your characters grow and change throughout the story. A well-crafted character arc can turn a good story into a great one.

Background and Motivations: Provide backstories and motivations. Why does your character act the way they do? What drives them? This adds depth and makes them more three-dimensional.

4. Add Dialogue

Dialogue can break up large blocks of text and make your writing more dynamic. It reveals character, advances the plot, and provides opportunities for conflict and resolution. Ensure your dialogue sounds natural and serves a purpose.

In Detail:

Natural Speech: Write dialogue that sounds like real conversation, complete with interruptions, pauses, and colloquial language. Avoid overly formal or stilted speech.

Purposeful Dialogue: Every line of dialogue should have a purpose, whether it's revealing character, advancing the plot, or building tension. Avoid filler conversations that don't add to the story.

Subtext: Use subtext to add depth. Characters might say one thing but mean another, revealing their true feelings through what they don't say directly.

5. Use Strong Verbs

Strong verbs make your writing more vivid and energetic. They convey action and emotion effectively, making your sentences more powerful and engaging.

In Detail:

Action Verbs: Choose verbs that show precise actions. Instead of "She went to the store," say "She dashed to the store."

Avoid Weak Verbs: Replace weak verbs and verb phrases with stronger alternatives. Instead of "He was walking," say "He strode."

Emotionally Charged Verbs: Use verbs that convey specific emotions. Instead of "She was sad," say "She wept."

6. Vary Sentence Structure

Varying sentence structure keeps your writing interesting and prevents it from becoming monotonous. Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more complex ones to create a rhythm that engages readers.

In Detail:

Short Sentences for Impact: Use short sentences to create tension, urgency, or emphasize a point. "He stopped. Listened. Nothing."

Complex Sentences for Detail: Use longer sentences to provide detailed descriptions or explain complex ideas. "As the sun set behind the mountains, the sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the serene landscape."

Combine Different Structures: Mix simple, compound, and complex sentences to maintain a natural flow. Avoid repetitive patterns that can make your writing feel flat.

7. Introduce Conflict

Conflict is the driving force of any story. It creates tension and keeps readers invested in the outcome. Without conflict, your story can become stagnant and uninteresting.

In Detail:

Internal Conflict: Characters should struggle with internal dilemmas, fears, and desires. This adds depth and relatability.

External Conflict: Introduce obstacles and challenges that characters must overcome. This can be other characters, societal pressures, or natural forces.

Resolution: Show how conflicts are resolved, leading to character growth and plot progression. Ensure resolutions feel earned and satisfying.

8. Use Metaphors and Similes

Metaphors and similes add creativity and depth to your writing. They help readers understand complex ideas and emotions by comparing them to familiar experiences.

In Detail:

Metaphors: Directly state that one thing is another to highlight similarities. "Time is a thief."

Similes: Use "like" or "as" to make comparisons. "Her smile was like sunshine on a rainy day."

Avoid Clichés: Create original comparisons rather than relying on overused phrases. Instead of "busy as a bee," find a fresh analogy.

9. Create Suspense

Suspense keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eager to find out what happens next. Use foreshadowing, cliffhangers, and unanswered questions to build tension and anticipation.

In Detail:

Foreshadowing: Drop subtle hints about future events. This creates anticipation and a sense of inevitability.

Cliffhangers: End chapters or sections with unresolved tension or unanswered questions to compel readers to keep going.

Pacing: Control the pace of your story to build suspense. Slow down for crucial moments and speed up during action scenes.

10. Edit Ruthlessly

Great writing often emerges during the editing process. Be willing to cut unnecessary words, tighten your prose, and refine your sentences. Editing improves clarity, pace, and overall readability.

In Detail:

Cut Redundancies: Remove unnecessary words and repetitive phrases. "In my opinion, I think" can be reduced to "I think."

Focus on Clarity: Ensure each sentence conveys its intended meaning clearly and concisely.

Proofread: Check for grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. A polished manuscript reflects professionalism and attention to detail.

[hellotailor]

armand’s costumes are such an interesting data point re: his nebulous sense of identity.

when analyzing any costume, there are always many factors to consider: the setting, the character’s personal taste and economic constraints, storytelling concerns like tone and genre, etc. with armand, we also need to remember that he’s 500 years old and violently disconnected from his human origins. everything he wears has an element of disguise, selected to blend into a new environment.

armand was enslaved as a child in 16th century delhi, and barely remembers his mortal life. unlike louis - who can return to new orleans after 80 years and reconnect with his past - armand has no home to return to. his whole backstory, even his name, is rife with traumatic subtext, leaving him with an obsessive need for structure and control. this adds an extra layer of meaning to costuming choices that initially seem like straightforward menswear. 

armand’s 1940s wardrobe is very put-together - primarily three-piece suits and coats that make him look wealthier and more formal than louis, who is purposefully dressing down. most of these outfits are tailored to bulk up armand's frame, leaning into the "maitre" persona. and like his business-casual dubai wardrobe, he always leaves his collar open. when i interviewed costume designer carol cutshall, she described this as a symbolic power move, signalling that he's an apex predator who doesn't need to protect his throat.

my personal interpretation is that while armand clearly likes to look good, he has a complicated relationship with attractiveness. he doesn't always want to draw attention. his color palette is shadowy (black, grey, brown, olive green), and he’s much less flashy than the other Théâtre vamps. however when he’s feeling confident and flirty, he becomes more of a power-dresser - for instance his hunting outfit with the big coat and sunglasses, or his habit of wearing kohl.

interestingly, most of armand's 1940s costumes set him apart from the coven. the Théâtre vampires dress like cabaret performers, embracing a lot of period-specific styles. by contrast armand is more timeless and neutral. in fact, due to the relatively minor changes in men's suits over the past 100 years, there's a lot of overlap between his wardrobe in the 1940s, '70s and 2020s:

the rest of the Théâtre squad share an unofficial uniform of boldly clashing monochrome patterns with pops of bright color. meanwhile armand has a very plain wardrobe, emphasizing the image of him as a businesslike authority figure surrounded by zany artistes. he only wears subtle stripes on a few occasions in the '40s, reflecting the recurring prison motif we see in lestat's trial suit and (most famously) the dubai penthouse bedroom:

if we ask the question, "what does this person like to wear?" there are easy answers for lestat, louis and claudia. we understand their tastes, and the motives behind them. but armand is more enigmatic. we can recognize through-lines in his wardrobe, but his "taste" is dominated by whatever role he's currently decided to embody, whether that's a parisian theater director or a real estate mogul in dubai.

the times when he appears to have the most fun with clothing are when he steals a pair of sunglasses from his human dinner (!) and when he's pretending to be rashid. in other words, when he's explicitly performing for an audience. "real armand" is still a mystery.

(i may write more about armand's dubai wardrobe later, but for now, you can find all of my iwtv costumes posts on this tag!)

[hogwartsfirebolt]

the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

”i don’t know what you want from me, sometimes.”

oliver turns his face, angles it to look at you; a streak of olive-green drinking you in. you’re crouched down, knees against your chest, staring vacantly at the field below you. playing with a piece of lint on your sleeve.

there’s an easy smile playing at his lips— but isn’t there always?

(it’s part of the problem, you think. you never know what he’s thinking when he looks at you like that.)

”what i want…” he echoes, soft, tapping his fingers against the lighter in his palm— the air still smells of tobacco. ”what do you think i want from you?”

an exhale through your nose, almost amused, but it lacks its usual luster. there’s something weary in your gaze. ”that’s exactly what i’m talking about,” you sigh, though it sounds a little seething. ”you never say what you mean. never clearly. it’s…”

a moment passes. the words dangle somewhere down your throat but it’s hard to reach for them, feels a little like plucking rocks from the sea. your teeth sink into your bottom lip, dig a grave there.

the bleachers are empty, you’re all alone. it makes you feel ill at ease— something in your stomach squirming like a bug, eating through your innards.

you part your lips with no vigour, no real desire to be heard. in that sense you are the same, empty. you’re surprised anything other than air leaves your lungs.

”it’s scary.”

…

a flicker, in a sea of chartreuse. he’s looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, you can sense it. his gaze is hard to keep, it’s like he can see through you.

(you wonder if he knows.)

he only hums. ”are you scared of me?” he asks.

lighthearted. casual. his tone doesn’t waver, it’s airy like he always is, a cloudy sky. but the question is heavier than he thinks, than he could possibly know.

(no, a part of you want to claim— no, i’m not scared of you. i’m scared of what you could do, what you make me feel. or — yes, i am. i’m always scared.

what does he know about fear, anyway?)

when you don’t answer, he continues. an inhale, the smell of sweat and freshly cut grass. summer.

”maybe i just want you to give me a chance.”

…

”… well,” you exhale, the fading taste of apricots on your tongue, sticky gum stuck between your teeth. ”maybe i can’t do that.” it sounds more bitter than you’d meant it to; like whiskey on your breath. given everything, you think you’ve earned the right to tire.

”maybe i just don’t trust you enough, aiku.”

[wroteclassicaly]

Just some comfort…

Warnings: Language, comfort, mentioning anxiety, mentions the menstrual cycle and pain, tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: Just a little something, because I’m on mine and I miss him… badly.

~*~

The anxiety is rippling across your stomach, winding around that ghastly heat that scratches across your navel and remains traveling. You’ve tried every position, drank your second glass of iced water, but nothing is helping. You feel as if you could throw up, mouth watering, whilst simultaneously craving for one specific thing… Your eyes follow the heavy wooden door that’s cracked open, illuminated by an autumn thunderstorm. Giving one more tapping of itchy fingertips to your borrowed quilt, you toss the blanket and sheet combo off, your baggy sleep shirt hanging off of you as you make your way down the hallway and outside of the master bedroom door.

It’s quiet throughout his new home - which isn’t anything fancy. A simple old two story cottage you’ve been helping him restore with Nadine’s help. However, it’s his own. And you have your own room here. It’s where you are a lot, still giving him space to make his pathway, but never straying too far.

You two don’t speak on it - there’s more time for that later. Doesn’t mean you aren’t stopping the wishes, the cravings. On nights like tonight, you don’t want your own bed. Still fogged out from the pain inside your exhausted body, you don’t knock, instead pushing the door open enough that it has that whistling sound effect. Before you can raise your hands in surrender, he’s got his gun from beneath his pillow, safety off, and has it perfectly aimed in your direction.

You’re immediately regretful, tears blurring your vision due to emotions. He’s still worried for his own safety, tenfold after his prison time and all of the surgeries needed to restore his eyesight. You hear him sigh as you let out a soft apology. The safety is restored and his gun is placed on his nightstand. His hair is a mess, grown out and shaggy, his chain glittering under the dampening, shrouded moon.

Rain cascades across his window, illuminating him like a portrait of delicate carving. He gives a soft sigh - equal parts irritated and relieved. You look wonderful, just in your shirt, bare feet on his hardwood, in his home. He scoots over and peels back his blankets, overwhelmingly grateful that you scared the shit out of him. You gravitate towards him, a soft smile pressing your face as you knee your way onto the California King.

“You ain’t sleepin’ on my side,” he says.

“Don’t care what side I get, just wanna sleep here.”

You’re already shifting down into the mess of olive greens, swirled in blue tones, and cream sheets, turning onto your side. The anxiety instinctually dissipates. You’re surrounded by the soft smell of the rain, mixed together with the rustic colored leaves that drape across the roof, soaked in earth and season - his window open slightly. His pillows, his bedding, soft detergent, a grainy cinnamon and cedarwood engulfing you from his body wash and shampoo. You aren’t expecting it when he does, a beat silent, his hovering presence behind you, but he then pulls you back into his chest, one defined bicep tossing across your waist.

Warm. Safe. Home.

His voice speaks in a sleep bitten rasp, as if someone has just fed him honey soaked tea. “You want my heatin’ pad?”

You’re shaking your head, already forgetting the agony that is briefly settling in your uterus. You reach for one of his massive palms, splaying it out across your belly, pressing it down. “Just this.”

“Hey…?” It’s a timid trail off, one that catches your attentions before you can drop into sleep.

You tilt your head back and his nose is bumping into yours, a nudging that plants him directly into the apple of your cheek. You don’t have to reach, fingers resting on you tightening together, lips meeting in a kiss so featherlight that it sends a tickling electricity into your toes. You give, he gives, sending a few more chaste pecks, nuzzling with pressed foreheads, and he’s sliding into place behind you, face burrowing into your neck, boxer-briefs heavy on him. No more words are exchanged. You’re out in two minutes, Gator following shortly after, gun forgotten on the table.

Safe… Loved…

[bunny-bear-blogs]

Perfect Blend

Synopsis: It was the weeks leading up to finals at your university, which meant everyone and anyone were stressed out. Due to this panic, you were not able to book a study room and instead decided to do so at a cozy cafe down the street from where you lived. Which seemed like a great idea and saved you gas; however, for some reason your server is always the same sarcastic taunting man, Scaramouche. You're not quite sure why he won’t leave you alone or how he takes long breaks just to talk to you. Or how he brings you drinks and desserts for free—it's all a mystery, just like him.

A/N: In honor of Scaramouche's birthday <3

Packed. All Packed. All the study rooms in your university’s library were packed. You knew you should’ve woken up an hour earlier to ensure your spot in a room, but no, you were too tired from doing homework from the night before. This was a huge pain. I mean, where were you going to study if not in a study room? It’s not like you couldn’t study elsewhere, like in your room or other parts of the university, but those specific university study rooms gave you so much energy to get stuff done that you doubt you would be able to replicate the success you had elsewhere. Feeling defeated, you just decided to go on with your day while thinking of potential study places.

With no solution found, you walked out of the university, making your way to your apartment, still with a sense of defeat. You stopped at the crosswalk when you saw a white-haired girl drop her groceries. Feeling a sense of familiarity, you rushed over and helped the girl get up and pick up her groceries. Once she was back on her feet, she turned around with wide eyes and spoke.

“Y/N, it's you!”

“Nahida? What are you doing here?”

It was Nahida. She was a family friend and had been there for many fundamental points in your life. You wondered what she was doing here, near your apartment, since she lived elsewhere. “I’m dropping off groceries for my nephew. He works at a cafe and was not sure when his shift would end to buy some, so here I am to deliver.

She smiled brightly. She’s always so radiant in everything she says and does.

“I didn’t know you had a nephew.”

“It’s a recent thing.”

She said it shyly but with a smile. Looking at it now, Nahida has always had many amazing traits, one of the most prevalent being her infinite kindness and wisdom. Which gave you an idea in your head of what to ask the girl.

“Nahida, do you have any recommendations for study places? Preferably one that will cause motivation."

“Yes, I do! There are some cafes in other areas of town that would do the trick, but the one I most prefer is the 6wirl Cafe. It’s right by your apartment street, so it's easily accessible. It’s also where my nephew works. You should check it out. In fact, you should take this to him.”

She then passed the groceries over to you and gave you a warm smile before walking off in the opposite direction, leaving you dumbfounded and confused.

You then, with the groceries in hand, walked over to near your apartment, looking intently for the cafe. Finally, you saw it, with the name “6wirl Cafe.” What an odd name. Well, no going back now, so you walked into the cafe. It was a cozy cafe, with books all over the shelves and seat cushions ranging from green to blue. There were chairs and different-style bean bags in certain areas, and the cafe also had a section where booths were separated from others, giving one proper study time in a closed area. It was perfect for you. You were ready to dive in—well, until you remembered about the groceries. You needed to give these to her nephew, but who was he? Not knowing the best course of action, you decided to walk up to the register and ask the cashier.

“Hello, welcome to 6wirl Cafe! How may I assist you?

He had a casual, whatever-or-no tone. The man also had burgundy hair, whose bangs were pulled back by a black headband. Along with that, he had olive-green eyes with a mole under each. He was wearing a white shirt with khaki pants and a 6wirl apron over his shirt.

“Hello, this sounds odd, but I was wondering if any of your workers know someone named Nahida. She asked me to give this to her nephew, but I have no idea who that is.”

“OH. I know who you're talking about.”

The man had a beaming smile and turned back, shouting for the nephew.

“SCARAMOUCHE! You have a visitor—an interesting one, I might add.”

After a few seconds, Nahida’s nephew came in. He was beautiful—maybe the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. He had indigo hair that reached up to his ears, which matched his dazzling indigo eyes. He wore a bit of red eyeliner under his eyes and the same outfit the man you spoke to before had.

“What is it, Heizou? You know I don’t like to be bothered on my break.”

He seemed annoyed.

“This lovely lady was looking for you and has a gift for you from your aunt.”

The Indigo-haired man then turned his head in your direction and proceeded to walk over to you. You would be lying if you said this man didn’t make you nervous. He then looked you straight in the eye with his hand extending outward. Was he asking for a handshake?

“Hand it over.”

I guess he wasn’t asking for a handshake.

“Don’t be so cruel to the young lady, Scara. She’s just doing your aunt a favor.”

“Then she should hand it over. It’s none of yours or hers buisness.” I know that he just wants his groceries, but he doesn’t have to be so mean about it. I guess he was too beautiful to be true.

“It actually is my business since I have known Nahida for years and she’s never mentioned you once. I wonder why that is."

You said, your tone switching from one of confusion to one of the same aggression that Scaramouche had towards you.

“Listen, I'm going to give you guys some time to talk in private; there's a booth over there you two can discuss this in. Also, Scara, this will be counting as your break.”

The man with the olive-green eyes then quickly scurried off to a room in the back of the cafe before Scaramouche could say anything. The indigo-eyed man next to you then turned around, mumbling the words.

“Let’s talk.”

You then nodded and followed that man to a seat. It was silent at first until you decided to speak.

“So your Nahida’s nephew? I've known her for years, yet this is my first time hearing that she has one.”

He seemed timid after that comment, as if his haughty persona had gone away. His facial expression also changed into a somber one. Which made you regret asking or using that tone with him.

“It’s a complicated arrangement.”

He then looked away. Judging by his facial expressions, you realized the circumstances that brought them together were likely not a happy one.

“I won’t pry into it then.”

Feeling remorse, you then passed him his groceries, which Nahida asked you to deliver to him. He then clutched the bag, holding it tightly to him. His words hitched on his breath as if he were hesitating to say something.

“I’ve heard of you before, well, all the time. Nahida speaks very highly of you, Y/N.”

“How did you know I was Y/N?”

“Call it figuring out context clues.”

“Nahida speaks highly about me?"

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

You were shocked, to say the least, but felt content knowing Nahida speaks highly of you.

“That’s kind of you to say. I’m sure she feels the same about you as well. If she's having you stay with her, I'm sure that means she cares for you very much."

You gave the man a warm smile with a soft expression and saw how his expression went from a somber one to a soft one as well. He then fiddled with his fingers and spoke.

“Thank you for saying that.”

He was shy with his expression, but even through that, you could tell that the Indigo-hair man was blushing. Maybe he wasn’t the same as the aggravated boy you met before. He then continued speaking.

“Though I’m still not over our talk from earlier, mortal.”

Maybe he was the same aggravated boy you met before.

“I’m sorry, what?"

“You heard me, mortal.”

“You know you're a mortal too? And you were the mean one.”

Your soft expression then turned into one with a glare.

“Quick tip glaring isn’t good for the face, mortal.”

“I am literally going to beat you up for that comment.”

“Try me, mortal.”

“Once again, don’t call me that! You’re literally a mortal too.”

"Hmm, then what should I call you? What about bug? Since I'll crush you in a fight.”

This man sure was something. Not a good thing, but something. Before you could retort back, the burgundy-haired man you met before came barging in.

“Scaramouche, your break is up. It’s time to work!"

"Ugh, but I barely even got a break.”

“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes.”

“But it’s not my fault that this bug came barging in here.”

It was as if you could hear your blood boil every second this man spoke. Especially when he called you a bug—I mean, who does that?

“Too bad, get back to work.”

He then stood up from his seat, groceries in hand, and looked back at you.

“You’re going to pay for this bug, and I’ll be back.”

“Try me.”

He just glared at you with a sour expression. Which caused you to pipe up and fake happiness to further sour his mood.

“Have fun! Bye Scara~”

You said it with a wide smile in a condescending tone, along with waving your hand back at the man. He only walked away, mumbling to himself.

Since you were already here with your backpack in hand, you decided to just pull out your laptop and start studying. You were loving the vibe of the cafe and even got up to order a drink to make you feel more motivated. You were excited to try the drink you ordered and were waiting to get it any second.

“Here’s the drink you ordered.”

You looked up. Oh. It’s him again, Scaramouche.

“What do I owe the pleasure of having you as my server?"

You said it with a small, clearly fake smile.

"Well, I just wanted to see how my bug was doing.”

“Once again, I am not a bug. How long is it going to take for that to get through your head?”

He then leaned down towards you, putting a hand near his ear.

“What’s that bug? I can’t hear you; try again when you get stronger.”

“I think someone lacks listening skills.”

“I do not.”

“So you can hear me.”

“Maybe anyway, here’s your drink.”

He then laid down the drink you ordered and took a seat next to you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to work?"

“You took my break time, so it’s only fair if I take some of your time.”

You rolled your eyes.

"Plus, I think you're pretty interesting.”

“Fine, you can stay here; just don’t bother me too much.”

Over the next few weeks leading up to the finals, interactions like those continued. With you coming every day to the cafe to study and having the same Indigo-eyed man as your waiter, It became the new normal to see him every day and have him rush to his job or take long breaks just to sit and talk with you. He still continued being rude and calling you a bug, but his soft side would show sometimes when he would bring you free drinks or desserts.

It was now Saturday, with your hardest final exam being on Monday. Needless to say, you were terrified since you had always performed poorly in this class. Which was why the second you woke up, you got dressed to start studying at the cafe.

You walked inside and waved hello to Heizou, who was at the register, and made your way to sit down in your usual spot. You sat down and pulled out your laptop and textbook to start taking notes and re-reading sections. This went on for about thirty minutes until you heard a familiar voice.

“How’s my favorite bug doing?”

The Indigo-eyed man was leaning over towards you, holding a tray with a slice of cake on it.

“Stressed.”

During the few weeks of being here, you had gotten used to Scaramouche’s nickname for you. At this point, the insult only hurt a bit, plus you had moved up the ranks and become his favorite bug. Perhaps during the few weeks you also developed a small crush on the man. Well, not a small crush, but a huge one, one that was only amplified with every word said and action performed. You’re not quite sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, you realized that you enjoyed his company way more than you let on. Too much so that you can’t bear to go days without him, which brings you to your next problem other than finals. Once your exam is over, you won’t have a reason to visit the cafe or be here for hours. Which meant that from now until Monday, you had to study and figure out if Scaramouche feels the same for you.

"Hmm, well, luckily I could help with that.”

He then took to the seat across from you and placed down a tray with a small slice of strawberry shortcake and a small cup of coffee.

“I brought this for you, bug, so you could feel more motivated.”

He was always sweet like this, always bringing you free desserts and drinks. It was always too many to count, making you wonder if they were really free or coming out of his wallet.

He then picked up the fork and passed it over to you. Your hands touched for a split second, which to you felt like forever, like a moment that made you want to linger.

“Thank you for the great meal, Scara!”

You then took a few bites out of the cake. It was absolutely delicious—truly a cake made by the divine. As you ate, you realized that Scara was staring at you intently.

"Scara, I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“With that face.”

“You mean my handsome face.”

"Oh, shut it; I mean just that you're staring at me so intently.”

“Am I not allowed to stare at my favorite bug?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine, well, I’ll have you know I baked that cake.”

“You? Baked this?”

You were clearly shocked, looking back and forth at the man and the cake.

"Yes, I did.”

He then scratched his face, turning away shyly, and proceeded to speak in a low voice.

“I noticed you like the strawberry shortcake from our menu a lot, and I just wanted to learn how to make it for you so you don’t need to come here every time you want it but could just come find me." You blushed. Was he saying what you think he was? You don’t need to come here to see him, but could you see him anytime you want, anywhere?

“That’s really sweet, Scara. Thank you; no one’s ever done anything like that for me. I’ll cherish eating this slice of cake forever."

“I have the rest in my car.”

“I’ll take the rest too, then.”

“Don’t overeat.”

“I’d be happy to overeat on the cake you made for me.”

He then blushed and got up.

"Anyway, you should get back to studying.”

“That’s funny of you to say; don’t you usually stay here with me for long periods of time?”

"Well, it's only a short time till your final, so I want you to do your best and succeed."

You smiled at the man's sweet words and nodded.

A couple hours later, as you were exiting the cafe, the man came up to you once again. He grabbed your hand to pull you back while shouting your name.

“Y/N!”

You were stunned at that and how his hand was now holding yours. It was so unbelievably warm. It felt as if you had been cold all your life, and now, at this moment, you are finally experiencing warmth. You wished that he would never let go of your hand and that this warmth would stay for the rest of your life.

“Scara?”

“I don’t want you to forget the cake I made you."

He spoke shyly and shakenly.

“Of course I couldn’t forget; I just hadn’t seen you, so I assumed you’d give it to me tomorrow, but I’d be happy to take it today.”

The man then smiled and ran back to the breakroom. Leaving his hand with him, you felt cold again now that his hand was gone. Before you could think about it any longer, the man came back with the strawberry shortcake.

“Here’s the cake, and I’m telling you, bug, don’t overeat and get a stomach ache from it.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

You then softly smiled and made your way out of the cafe, clutching tight to your strawberry shortcake.

Today was the last day to study for your final, so like yesterday, you went to the cafe the second you woke up. You wished you could say the final was the only thing on your mind, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the top priority. Your top priority was figuring out what to do about Scaramouche since, after tomorrow, you wouldn’t have a reason to visit the cafe as often as you do. I mean, tomorrow you promised him you would visit, but that was only to tell him how you did. Which meant you had to find out how he felt today.

You walked into the cafe once again, and like a daily routine, you waved hi to Heizou and sat down in your usual spot. You had pulled out your laptop and started reviewing the notes you made yesterday. Which didn’t last long, as ten minutes later your favorite waiter, Scara, came.

“Hey bug."

“Hello Scara.”

You then noticed him holding a tray carrying a drink. He then leaned down near you, placing the drink down.

“I wanted to try making this drink, but I can’t get the blend right. Any thoughts?”

He said as he slid the drink towards you. You then picked it up and took a sip. He was right that something was off with the drink, but you couldn’t figure out what.

"Hmm, maybe it has to do with the percentages of stuff you're putting in it? I’m not quite sure I’m not a coffee expert."

“Thanks bug. I’ll get better at making it and make you try it again soon.”

The man then ran off before you could get another word in.

He then came back after an hour with a small pastry and a cup of coffee. He leaned over you and slid the pastry and coffee in front of you.

“Here, this is take two of trying to get the blend. What do you think?"

You then tried the coffee, still feeling something off. Hmm, maybe it's that it doesn’t have a big aftertaste."

The man then grabbed the cup, taking a sip.

“I think you're right; I’m not sure what to do as the aftertaste flavor is completely stumped."

“I know the perfect flavor.”

You both turned back to see where the voice was coming from. To both of your surprises, it was Nahida. She then took a seat opposite

you, and you scooted over for Scaramouche to sit by you. “Nahida, what are you doing here?

“I just wanted to check up on how both of you were doing. I’m glad to see you both getting along great. Oh, Y/N, did you enjoy the cake Scara baked?

He tried so hard to make the cake to your liking.”

"NAHIDA, don't tell her that.”

Scaramouche was as red as the strawberries on the cake he made you yesterday. He was blushing, and he seemed to have lost his composure.

"Sorry, Y/N, he seems to be a bit shy, but I hope you enjoyed the cake.”

“I loved the cake and am very grateful for it!.”

“Well Nahida you said you knew the solution to the blend problem.

How do I figure out what to pick for the aftertaste?”

"Well, I knew that I’d be confident that you’d find the solution. Think about the coffee and who it’s made for—the person it’s meant to be given too. Once you have figured all that out, you will be able to make the perfect blend."

Classic Nahida to give such a vague answer.

“Thank you for your wisdom, Nahida. I’m sure he’ll be able to figure out the blend sooner or later.”

The Indigo-haired man sighed and then nodded.

"Well, I should be on my way now. I wouldn’t want to keep you from studying. Goodluck Y/N!”

She then got up and walked away from the cafe. Leaving you and Scaramouche dumbfounded at what just happened. You spoke first, followed by him.

“What do you think she meant by who’s the coffee for?”

The man then blushed heavily and turned around.

"Nothing; she meant nothing. You should study now; it won't be long till your exam.”

He then left and hurried back to work. Maybe leaving quickly runs in the family; who knows?

It was now thirty minutes before the closing of the cafe. You had grown worried since you hadn’t seen Scaramouche since. I mean, of course, it’s his job to work here and not sit and chat idly with customers, but it felt odd that he was here but not with you. It makes sense that he left you so you could study, but he could’ve stopped by to say hello at least. You had grabbed your bag and made your way to the exit of the cafe when you tripped. You had felt yourself fall backwards and closed your eyes, bracing for impact. But it never happened; you never made contact with the ground but instead with someone's arms.

“Caught you bug.”

It was him. Scaramouche, the man you liked, had caught you. You couldn’t help but blush and smile with excitement.

“Why are you smiling, bug?”

“Because I’m finally seeing you."

He then smiled and helped you stand back up.

“I’m glad to hear you're happy to see me.”

"Well, you didn’t come visit me after Nahida came, so I was worried.”

"Well, I was working on perfecting the blend, and I think I have it.”

"Woah, can I try it then?”

"Nope, you’re going to try it tomorrow when you come to tell me how you scored on your final.”

"Boo, that’s so mean.”

“That way, we’ll know if you deserve to try it.”

“Still, what if I do bad tomorrow?”

He then bent down to grab your hand and kiss it.

“I know you won’t do bad tomorrow.”

You blushed, your brain not processing that the man you like just kissed your hand.

“I’ll do my best for your sake, then.”

The man then smiled softly and spoke.

“It’s getting late; you should be on your way home."

“You’re right; I’ll take my leave then.”

The man then kissed your hand once more before letting you go.

“I believe in you one hundred percent.”

You went home that night with a million thoughts racing through your head and your heart beating practically out of your chest. You had gathered enough information to conclude that Scaramouche likes you—at least you think so. Tomorrow, after your exam, if you do well, you swear you're going to tell him your feelings.

You had just gotten out of your final exam. You were stressed going in there and felt like you were going to throw up just taking the exam; however, it was all worth the struggle when you saw your score. You had scored a perfect score. Those long weeks of studying nonstop had paid off, and now you were even more confident to reveal your feelings.

You had made your way to the cafe and walked in following your daily routine, saying hello to Heizou and walking over to your usual spot. You waited for about a minute before the Indigo hair man came.

“So how’d it go, bug?”

He said it, beaming with excitement as if already knowing how it went.

"Well, I got a perfect score on my exam!”

Before saying anything, he rushed in to envelope you in a hug. Holding you tightly, whispering that I knew you could do it, and that’s my bug. When the both of you broke out of the hug, he paused, told you he had something for you, and ran off into the back room. The man then came back carrying a tray holding strawberry shortcake, roses, and a small cup of coffee.

He then slid the strawberry shortcake and small coffee over to you and passed you the bouquet of roses.

“Thank you so much, Scara. This is so sweet of you. Thank you for everything.”

You said this while smelling the roses he gave you. He then pointed to the small cup of coffee.

“I’ve perfected my blend, and I wanted you to taste it to see if it’s to your liking.”

You smiled and drank the coffee. It was amazing, truly perfect, like Scaramouche had said. It was sweet and full of flavor, just as you liked it, but most of all, it was filled with overwhelming care and love

“Scara, this is amazing! It’s the perfect blend! How’d you do this?”

“I thought about what Nahida said, who I wanted to give this coffee to, and what feelings I wanted to express. I wanted to give this coffee to you, so I used items you liked in it, and I wanted to tell you I like you romantically, so I put my all into making this perfect for you.”

The indigo-eyed man was blushing heavily while confessing his love to you.

“Y/N I just couldn’t live without telling you my feelings, knowing I wouldn’t see you as often or at all after finals. I like you so much and want you to stay with me.”

You smiled at the man’s confession and jumped into his arms, enveloping him in a hug like the one he had given you before.

“I like you too, Scara. I want to stay with you as well."

“Thank you for liking me back, Y/N.”

He spoke shyly but in a happy tone. Soon, the two of them broke out of the hug and sat down side by side.

“Hey Scara?”

“Yes, bug?”

“Would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?”

Scaramouche gave a pure, genuine smile back at Y/N.

“I’d love to.”

"Well, then my first degree as your girlfriend is that we eat cake.”

You pointed to the cake. You then grabbed the fork and took a bite of the cake.

“Scara, it's delicious; you should try some.”

“I will.”

He said it mischievously, which was then followed by him leaning closer and closer to you. He then moved his hand to cup your cheek and moved closer to you until your lips were inches away. You both could feel each other's breath being inhaled and exhaled.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

He whispered quietly, just low enough for you to hear. You then nodded. He then closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you time and time again. He loved the way your lips were soft and the way you smelled so sweet, as if your scent were mirroring your personality. Finally, when the two of you let go of each other's lips, the Indigo-haired man then smirked.

“The strawberry shortcake was absolutely delicious, right?”

You blushed heavily, the thoughts of what just happened moments ago still repeating through your head.

"Yeah, I think that’s my new favorite method of eating strawberry shortcake.”

"Hmm, is that so?”

“I’m very sure of that.”

"Well, then let’s go again.”

He said he was smiling once more. Leaning closer once more and closing the distance between the both of you once again.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Fun little fact about breaking points/ key moments that are either the end of Bucks relationships or the moment something happens that sets their demise in motion - Buck wears dark green

Abby leaves - dark green plaid shirt

Buck moves into Maddies after he has accepted his break up with Abby (technically this is a bit later as he has moved into Chims and this is him being kicked out of Chims, but it all plays into the same concept!) and the uses of plaid here is also a bit of a nod to that airport costume in my opinion.

Ali breaks up with him

Buck tells taylor he kissed Lucy

Buck ends things with Taylor

I've included this because it felt like a break up of an aspect of Buck and Eddies relationship at this moment - as well as the moment when Buck was being delusional about Natalia and her seeing him. its also the scene where we get the line about not dating people you meet on the job - which feels like foreshadowing for the Buck and Natalia relationship

And now we have this still - I thought it was a green toned black shirt - and it might very well still be, I won't know for sure until we see the scene play out, -but now I'm looking at it on my proper computer screen and not my phone screen at 4am, its looking much more dark green to me and therefore potentially fits into the Buck relationship costume colour way - black with a dark green top layer.

So if this does in fact turn out to be dark green - it either means one of three things - this is connected to a Buck/Natalia break up in some way, or we're going to see some drama and divorce era 2.0 for Buck and Eddies relationship, or this is a scene where we see Buck and Eddie grow closer together.

I tend more towards it being a Buck/Natalia break up related scene which actually doesn't preclude it from also pushing Buck and Eddie closer together! The reason I say that the dark green could be a sign of them growing closer is becuase aside from all the outfits above, there are only two other instances of Buck wearing a dark green - the olive green jumper he wears in 3x11 - the This is Eddies house I'm not really a guest scene,

and then the following episode when they take Chris skateboarding.

both scenes that establish Bucks place in the Diaz boy's life and as part of hte Buckley Diaz family!!

[jswahaarts]

The Gathering 1/4: “Cold”

——————

Summary: A group of Jedi Younglings begin their journey to find their Kyber Crystals.

Word Count: 1749

Authors Note: Just a lil silly story with my ocs lol!! (also including my friends ocs :] )

——————

-28 BBY, Ilum -

“[I’m cold…]” Yaupé grumbled quietly. Well. As quiet as a wookiee could be. Which wasn’t very quiet at all. He was loud, in fact. Very loud.

“YOU’RE cold??” Cara whispered harshly, turning to her best friend, “You? The wookiee?”

“[Wookiees can get cold!]”

“Can not! You guys have all that fur!”

“[Uh! can too! Even with all this fur!]”

The two glared at one another. Of course, Cara knew wookiees were capable of getting cold. Heck, Yaupé was right here, buuuut… she couldn’t help messing with him. It was too much fun.

“Can not!”

“[Can too!!]”

“Can not!”

“[Can t—!!!]”

“Yaupé! Cara!” Master Yoda’s voiced called onto the two youngling. The two slowly turned their heads towards the Jedi Grand Master as their eyes opened wide. “Have something to say the two of you do? Hm?” He asked. It was easy to tell from the short green aliens tone that he was definitely annoyed at the two, which suprisingly wasn’t a rare occurance for them. By this point, everyone in the room had their eyes on them awaiting their response.

Kriff. This wasn’t good. They didn’t just interrupt a speech. They interrupted a MASTER YODA speech; meaning they could either be in for a long and boring lecture after this, OR he was totally gonna quiz them right now if they tried lying by saying they were paying attention—which they were’nt, so that could go equally as bad and earn them a lecture regardless.

The two younglings shot quick worried glances at one another before their eyes landed back on Master Yoda. Fearing the lecture, Cara quickly bowed apologetically, being as ‘Jedi-like’ as possible, “Apologies, Master Yoda, It won’t happen again!!”

Yaupé looked at the human girl, before following her lead, doing the same.

“[Yeah! Sorry, Master, we promise it won’t happen again!!!]”

“Hmm…” Master Yoda grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could hear the other younglings snickering at the human and the wookiee. At least they apologized though. That was something. “Saying, I was…” The old master sighed, starting again, “To protect others, how does a Jedi? Hmm?”. He looked around, making sure that all the younglings were really paying attention, before pulling out his lightsaber, igniting it, its green light bouncing off his olive green skin and reflecting off the ice and snow.

“The lightsaber.” He answered. “Build your own lightsabers in time, you will, but first, harvest your own crystal you must.”

The group of younglings all murmered to one another in excitement, expressing their clear enthusiasm with “No way!!”’s and “Heck yeah!”’s, along with two younglings who whispered; ‘Called it!’ and ‘No you didn’t, nerf-for brains!’. Master Yoda couldn’t help but smirk. If they were’nt listening before, they sure were now.

“The heart of a lightsaber, the Kyber Crystal is.” Master Yoda continued. “Focuses the Force from the Jedi it does…” He said, before raising his hands hand towards the sky. Master Yoda closed his eyes gently, focusing as he used the Force to open a window within the temple. When opened, a beam of light was shot from the outside into a crystalized contraption, hanging overhead, that reflected that beam into the tall icey doorway in front of the group, melting it all in seconds, and exposing the entrance to the caves where the younglings are to go for their crystals.

“If Jedi you are to become, enter the crystal cave you must.” Master Yoda started again, looking at each of the younglings. “Trust yourselves. Trust eachother, and succeed you will.”

~

As the water from the melted door cleared, the younglings stood by the entrance to the ice caves, listening to the instructions of Padawan Leonie as she explained the do’s and don’t’s for the ice caves. Everyone seemed to be paying much more attention to her than they did to Master Yoda during the beggining part of his speech.

“—Oh! And one last thing;” She said. “Once you find your crystals, DO NOT remain inside the caves. As soon as daylight ends, the door will freeze over once again and you WILL be trapped inside…”

As soon as she said that, everyone looked at one another, making sure they all heard the same thing. “Uhh… I have a question?” Tomar announced, raising a hand, instantly catching the padawans attention. “How long would we be trapped for?”

“One rotation.”

It took a moment for the group to process what Leonie had just said, before-

“One rotation???” Everyone called out in unison. One rotation? here?? Their hearts sank just at the thought of it… staying in some old and creepy ice temple on some snow planet for the night???

“Yes. One rotation.” Leonie confirmed. “Now… that’s everything! Wishing you all the best of luck!!” She concluded with a cheery smile and a supportive thumbs up towards the group.

“Huh? wait, but-??” Khad’ started speaking.

“No ‘but’s’! Now go! Hurry before the door starts reforming!” She rushed, her hands doing a ‘shooing’ motion towards them. The group all shot frantic glances at one another before they rushed into the ice caves, finally starting their journey to get their Kyber Crystals.

~

Inside the Ilum temples ice caves, all that could be heard were the footsteps of the Jedi younglings as they moved along, their boots crunching at the snow beneath them, as well as the sound of crackling ice every so often. It was cold. Dark, and almost creepy with all the old frozen-over architecture among the cave walls. It was also kinda hard to walk, the floor was super slippery. Nevertheless, the younglings persisted.

Everyone, for the most part, was quiet, their thoughts mostly caught up on the whole ‘door freezing over’ bit that Leonie talked about and silently hoping to the Force that they find their crystals in time before that happened.

“So…” Tomar started, breaking the long moment of silence and catching everyones attention. “Out of everyone here, who’s more likely to get trapped inside the caves?”. It was typical of Tomar to try and bring some humor or ‘what if’ scenario into a situation, but, it lightened the mood so everyone was welcome to it. Everyone answered with the first person that came to their mind;

“Khad’.” Said Cara.

"[Khad’.]” Said Yaupé.

“Khad’.” Said Eyre.

They all looked towards Aras, who signed ‘Khad’’.

“WHAT!! WHY ME??” Khad’ shouted, his voice bouncing across the cave walls.

“Ehh… you just seem like the type to get stuck in an ice cave for a day.” Cara shrugged, a smirk plastered across her face.

Everyone seemed to nod along in agreement to Cara, leaving Khad’ dumbfounded.

“Well— she’s not wrong.” Tomar snickered.

“Shut up!! Kriff you guys!! If I get stuck here I hope you all get stuck here with me!!”

Seeing the twi’lek’s over-the-top reaction made the rest of the younglings howl in laughter, their snorts, snickers and roars echoeing across the cave walls, much to Khad’s annoyance. After walking further into the cave and getting a few more giggles out, the laughter soon vanished as the group approached what seemed to be the caves first obstacle for them. Before them lied three different openings within the cave. Peering into each one, they all seemed to look the exact same; long, dark and icey tunnels that the younglings could only assume lead right into the path to find their crystals. But… there were 6 of them and 3 tunnels. How were they going to go about this?

“Sooooo… what now?” Eyre spoke after a moment of everyone just standing there.

“[Hmm…]” Yaupé scratched his chin fur as he thought about what next step they could all take. There were three caves so, naturally, splitting up would be the best option right?Wait… no. No, they can’t split up! They could get lost- HE could get lost or hurt or WORSE!! And to add to that, none of them really knew what dangers they could even face in these caves! The more he thought about it, the more he just didn’t wanna risk it. “[Maybe… we should try sticking toge-]”

“We should split up!” Khad’ declared. Everyones eyes turned to the twi’lek. “Hear me out! See, there’s six of us and three caves, we can just split up and go into one of em with a partner!” Khad’ explained. “Then BAM! We find our crystals and make our cool and awesome sabers, easy peasy!!”

“That could work!” Cara agreed. Everyone in the group seemed to take a liking to the idea. Which was suprising cause it was a Khad’ idea. But a good one nevertheless. They almost felt bad for clowning on him earlier. Almost. “Heck yeah it will!!” Khad’ babbled eagerly, mostly just happy at the fact that his friends liked an idea of his. “Say, Aras, wanna be my partner?” He asked, nudging the Togruta by the arm. Aras smiled nodding their head ‘yes’ as Khad’ cheered, “Alright!! C’mon!” as he grabbed their hand, pulling them along into the one of the three tunnels in front of them.

“[Wait! But—!”]

“Hey, Eyre, wanna-”

“HECK YEAH!! Let’s go!!” Eyre didn’t even let Tomar finish asking them before they grabbed his arm and practically dragged him into the second cave that was in front of them. “Later losers!!!” Eyre’s voice called out, their voice echoeing through the caves walls. “Hey!! Waitwaitwaitwait!!!, slow down!!” Echoed Tomar’s voice behind them, going further and further into the tunnel, away from Cara and Yaupé.

Yaupé could only make a low grunting sound as he watched what just unfolded in front of him.

“Well…” Cara began, “Can’t blame ya for trying to keep everyone together.” She snickered. Yaupé couldn’t help but snicker along with her. Cara’s energy was just contagious like that.

“Sooo… any chance you wanna be my partner? By default?” She asked.

“[Hmm…]” Yaupé pretended to think, putting a hand to his chin. “[Ehh… I dunno if you’re cool enough to be my partner…]”

Cara fake-scoffed, playfully hitting Yaupé on the arm, “Shut up!” She chuckled, immedietly making the both of them giggle.

“We should get going—I wanna get my crystal before they do!” Cara half-joked, tapping at the wookiee.

“[Mm!]” Yaupé nodded with a newfound spark of confidence. With Cara by his side, he knew that the two of them could get through anything this cave had to throw at them! And with that, and a quick “C’mon!” from Cara, the two started into the third and last tunnel in front of them.

_______________________________________________

Leonie Luroon belongs to: @jaigeye !!

Eyre Brraven Belongs to: @circadianaa !!

(Thanks for letting me borrow your kids, besties! 💚)

The Bg’s are edited screencaps from The Clone Wars !!

[sincerelyyycece]

if you seriously propose that i sit on your lap, i will kill you.

Starting the summer vacation off on the wrong foot with the situation of sharing a cabin with Sirius Black.

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

As Y/N walks into the train station, her ears are filled with loud chatter from the crowds and a deafening whistle blows. It had been a busy day at the Kings Cross station. People are probably going on vacation; after all, it is summer. She shrugs as she picks up her bag, huffing as she struggles to transport it due to its weight. She reconsiders whether her excessive packing was a good idea. She drops her bag the moment a body collides with hers. The stranger apologizes audibly. "Seriously?" she scoffs, annoyed with the stranger.

"M-miss, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you. I apologize!" the stranger frantically exclaimed. "It’s fine," she said in a tone that clearly did not sound 'fine'. The stranger's constant apologies irritated her. She kneels down once more, picking up her bag and checking for damage. The stranger also kneeled down, wanting to assist. The stranger cast a glance at her, allowing him a clear view of her. "Y/N?" the stranger inquired. How does this guy know my name? She took a slow look at him.

When she realized who it was, she tried hard not to roll her eyes. "Black," she says, unimpressed. He grinned amusingly. "Miss Studious actually takes a vacation," he joked. I sighed and returned my attention to my bag. "If you have nothing else to say, I recommend you leave now before you miss your train," I said. He just shrugged and walked away. I stare at his figure, stunned. This man. I shook my head and walked towards the train.

Walking to my assigned cabin, I found myself making eye contact with familiar eyes once more. He seemed surprised to see me again. "Are you stalking me, Ms. Y/L/N?" I scoff, replying, "You wish!" and waving at an employee for assistance. They smiled and greeted me. "I was wondering if there was any other cabin available left?" I inquired. The employee shook their head, giving me a sympathetic smile. "Unfortunately, ma'am, all the cabins are full." I nod in response.

"However, I can ask other passengers if they are willing to switch cabins with you," they offer. I look between the train employee and Sirius, debating whether to change. It might not be that bad to share a cabin with him, right? I sighed defeatily and shook my head at the employee. "I’ll manage here; thank you." Hopefully, I’m making the right choice here. They smiled again before continuing on their way. I entered the cabin and stowed my bag in the compartments above our heads.

"Hi there, Roomie," Sirius said, waving at me. I disregarded him. I scanned the seats and noticed two bags. I pointed to the bags and asked Sirius, "Are these yours?" He nodded, still wearing that dopey smile. "Can you move them?" I gently inquired. He shook his head, making my brow furrowed in frustration. "No?" I crossed my arms, impatiently tapping my foot on the carpeted floor. "Why not?" I asked, keeping my composure. "Just because," he shrugged, raising my blood pressure. I am beginning to regret my decision.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down. "What about that bag beside you?" I inquire. He points to an olive-green duffel bag. "This?" I respond with a nod. When he shook his head "no" again, I raised my voice to a shout. "Where do you-" I exhaled loudly to calm myself down. "Where do you expect me to sit, Black?" I ask. He smirks. I could tell he was about to say something inappropriate. "What if y--" I interrupted him. "If you seriously propose that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," I stated.

He suppressed a laugh and cleared his throat. "Do your words always have to be mean?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Do you have to be insufferable all the time?" I shot back. A brief moment of silence passed. He simply smiled and then moved his bag. "Touché." I sat beside him and tried to ignore him throughout the train ride. As the train rattled on, the tension between us lingered, palpable but unspoken. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks seemed to emphasize the increasing distance between our seats.

The train ride continued, punctuated by awkward looks and mutual unease that neither of us was brave enough to express. Despite the picturesque sights outside, our internal landscapes remained chaotic as we were both engrossed in our own thoughts and completely aware of one another's presence. The stillness between us became louder with each mile, a sign of the unspoken tensions that remained simmering beneath the surface.

[lalalian]

let’s talk students: aethergarde dr (dragon rider school dr)

date: july 18, 2024

jkdshfkhskd it's been a hot sec since I've done this. Teagan won the poll last time, so we'll be going over him today!

pronunciation:

Teagan: (Tee-gen) (‘gen’ as in ‘again’)

Whit: (Wit)

appearance:

There are two kinds of people— you either prefer Teagan or Asterias. These two are genuinely so fine that students tend to like them (like a crush yk, not just platonically or smth LMAO) based on their personalities rather than solely relying on their looks.

Teagan’s got golden olive toned tanned skin, gray eyes, and full messy black hair. He’s got defined masculine leaning features and he’s ABSOLUTELY ripped. I didn’t make him like this without a purpose— It was simply because he helps his family transport heavy crates to different ships and wagons (I mean like he’s quite active in general, not just walking of course, he likes fighting and working out)

Teagan has a severe case of RBF despite his personality; he’s got no tattoos or piercings, tho I think he’d like to get his ears pierced.

I realized I haven’t said what style they like to wear, so I’ll do it for Teagan today (I’ll edit the rest of the posts with their own styles eventually). Teagan isn’t really into fashion; he values mobility and comfort over style as long as he doesn’t look, in his opinion, ‘noble and stupid’. He doesn’t like stiff shirts, so he usually wears looser garments. His wardrobe consists of brown, dark brown, black, cream, and very occasionally… dark green. He almost always wears some kind of boots (unless it’s a special occasion, he’d be wearing the black dress shoes his dad forced him to wear). As for his hair, if his hair’s long enough, he’ll tie it in the back. The most he’ll really do is brush through it.

personality:

Teagan’s a total extrovert and tends to have large circles of friends. When he’s alone for long periods of time, he can get a little antsy. I imagine that he’d bother his friends to hang out during finals season, but since everyone’s probably studying, he’d have to accept taking some notes in the library 😭

He’s the kind of guy that would try to help you out with literally anything, even if he’s not good at it. He’s a terrible artist, but loves to draw stupid things just to mail them to his friends. Teagan would definitely also pass notes around in class. Like Straus, he’s a terrible dancer, but yk at least Straus gets dance lessons… NEVER dance with this guy.

Despite his playful nature, he knows when to get serious. Teagan’s more of a logical thinker, but he’s incredibly kind and doesn’t like to see people he’s close to get hurt.

He really loves eating meat and raw fish. His dad had to stop him from eating fish straight up out a river (uncooked) many times as a child. Teagan’s also really good with kids; he knows how to cheer a kid up or teach them something without getting super irritated. Teagan’s weird asf not gonna lie, but hey at least he’s a really good cook. He doesn’t really cook for people he doesn’t know honestly, so like he only does it for people he’s close to.

relationships & status

Teagan was raised by his father after his mother died giving birth to him. Unlike a ton of Isekai manhwa fathers, his father didn’t hate him for being born, rather, he put all of his love into raising his son.

Teagan was raised well despite his non-noble status— his dad is a wealthy merchant. He often interacted with nobles because of his dad’s business; through these interactions, he grew a strong hatred for nobles. It isn’t rare for those higher in the social chain to treat people ‘lower’ than them with disrespect, and he definitely got a glimpse of this kind of mindset when attending meetings with his dad.

When Teagan was about 8 yrs old, his dad adopted another child off the street. This child ended up becoming Teagan’s little brother; his dad called him Archie because he used to arch his brow whenever he was the slightest bit confused— but then at around 3 years old, his dad decided that he needed a better name, so he named him ‘Archer’. Teagan and his dad still calls him Archie. When you shift here, Archie will be 13.

As you’d expect, Teagan’s really close with his dad and his younger brother. Teagan was supposed to inherit the family business, but since he’s an S-ranked rider, Teagan’s dad began teaching Archie all the stuff he needs to inherit his dad’s position just in case Teagan wants to do something else with his life.

His dad doesn’t want Teagan to be involved with super dangerous jobs; he’ll likely get pretty angry if Teagan wants to pursue a more dangerous career.

likes & dislikes:

likes:

-coffee, nothing added, just straight up black coffee

-wrestling with his brother

-cooking

-working out

-he likes fighting in general

-dogs. He likes dogs way more than cats

-the smell of leather

-dragons, he thinks they’re cool but he’s never aspired to be a rider simply because he didn’t think he’d be able to be one

dislikes:

-salads

-pooping (he’s got chronic constipation)

-reading

-tea unless it has boatloads of sugar in it

-nobles (yeah ik surprising, right?)

-chess

aura:

Teagan’s aura is an uncommon plume; unlike the students we’ve discussed before, his aura is single toned. I mean like the inner portion of his aura is darker, but like its bc the mana is more concentrated there yk?

#a8673e

dragon:

Teagan will bond to a male yellow wingwalker, and he’ll name him Kiser (Kai-sir).

strengths & weaknesses:

strengths:

-very physically strong

-good at cooperation (at times)

-great social skills

-dear god his martial arts skills are insane

-brave and persistent

weaknesses:

-finds reading boring; makes it hard for him to consume long texts, I’d imagine he’d ask someone close to him to read out a passage, then he’ll take notes that way

-a little dumb at times (it’s okay we love a himbo)

-has a habit of doing something crazy before thinking; he’d fight a monster he’s not really ready to fight for the fun of it

-can be lazy sometimes

-often wants someone near him to talk to; he likes to talk lmao

fighting style:

He mainly doesn’t use a weapon, but if he had to he’d fight with two sabers. His primary fighting skill is martial arts, his saber skills are average.

wanna know more about my aethergarde academy dr? here's a masterlist with everything I've posted about it!

[thelavendercatalogue]

Lavender Jacket Series Jacket Overview: Jigen Daisuke

Find Yata's Overview Here: Thank you @pixelateddork for the art.

Next on the list for the Jacket Overview series is a fan-favorite and one that I'm especially happy with.

Jigen Daisuke For his BASE PALETTE, Jigen sports his tradition getup, but it is more of the TWCFM set up of colors: his typical wardrobe as always sticks to the ashy-grayish black suit, light-blue dress shirt, white-tie and his traditional fedora which like the rest of his outfit ranges within the ash-grey tones see here (thank you screenshot recolors)

His SECOND OUTFIT

Like many shows we have seen regarding the pair, Jigens palette is often made to coincide or at least generally fit well with Lupin’s palette, even if he often does head toward the more traditional route with his colors- the blues, the blacks, the grays and so on and so forth. While Lupin took on the more softer Lavender colors in this series, Jigen however sports, not so much a different look, but one that I believe fits well with Lupin’s as well as the Lavender Jacket series as a whole

In LJS, Jigen’s tradition of typically wearing a darker set of colors compared to Lupin’s lighter shade still stands strong. However those traditional colors have since moved on from the typical  colors he’s most famously known for and instead now he sports colors that one may not have typically seen on Jigen outside of Part 3.

The First of the new colors presented are a Green Suit and Pants. Traditionally Green has always been a color that symbolizes many things, though the meanings of green can vary by shade similar to blue or red. For example: Bright green often symbolizes rebirth and spring while Olive green represents tranquility, earthiness and elegance. In Jigens case, Dark green or various shades of it, can often represent things such as fertility, greed, money and drive. For some shades, it also carries connotations of wealth and success but can sometimes signify greed and envy.

In Jigen’s case, the color green is often a double-edged sword; while things like  tranquility do not come easy for him until much much much later in the storyline, his drive to right his wrongs at times may also to many seem admirable at best and maybe suicidal at worst. Despite this, he still holds an elegance to him even during some of the worst times of his life which fits him strutting around in green very well.  The Darkish Red of his hat and tie also symbolizes things as well. Wine Red is a deep Red that often comes in many shades and often symbolizes traditional things like sophistication, passion, and luxury, few things that Jigen can’t afford to lose yet enjoys all the same as well while he can.

Especially passion. Throughout LJS, Jigen often finds himself being thrust into Lupin's role in more ways than he often anticipates, outside of simply just Leadership. In addition to this, he often finds himself shocked, about how often he ends up trading one vice, his alcoholism, for something better. The Act of Sex The moment Fujiko and him hook up in LJS, Jigen is often led to believe it’s the sex in which his body craves, like some new hyper-drive in his borderline dead sex-drive. While this turns out to not fully be the case, (he realizes later on down the line that its not simply the sex but the touch his body craves, not just the outcome that comes with it because Jigen usually hides how touch starved he really is) the need for sex is often a driving force between the pair. It’s why he often goes to her for "companionship"  when he’s drunk. Because, as shocking as it is for him, he had found something he finds fun, entertaining. In fact it revitalizes him, entices him, he finds that he enjoys it and it's strange because he never thought he would, especially with a woman like Fujiko, because it's also strange to him how quickly he fell into Lupin's role in the group

even down to his preference in partners.

Since red is the color of blood, it has historically been associated with sacrifice, danger, and courage. Modern surveys in Europe and the United States also often show that  red is also the color most commonly associated with heat, activity, passion, sexuality, anger, love, and joy. All emotions Jigen knows well and is slowly getting to know.

And it's not just the colors that often hold symbolism. Since their creation, cufflinks and lapel-pins have been seen as a symbol of status for gentlemen with luxury gold and gemstone cufflinks seen as a symbol of wealth, power and reputation, while Lapel pins are frequently used as symbols of achievement and belonging. While not shown directly on the reference sheet, Jigen does happen to wear and own two

In addition to being the Lupin Family Flower, The lupine flower stands for imagination, admiration, and overall happiness. Whether given as a gift or grown in your garden, the lupin brings the energy of inner strength to recover from trauma.

For Jigen it often fits all too well. But while he is not versed in the language of flowers like his partner might just be, he knows deep down that the flower means something to him. Ever since he was younger, the Lupin family, often consisting of just Lupin’s Grandpa and Lupin himself but now extending to the mains and servant’s, had been more of a family to him than even his own. The stability, while crazed and dangerous, was something that he had come to love and enjoy.

Jigen pledging his loyalty to Arsène the First, thus essentially pledging his loyalty to the entire Lupin family, was something that he never thought he would ever do again since leaving the Mafia life behind him for good. But Issei had become almost a father figure to him, let alone someone who had earned his loyalty and his admiration. And following Jigens official pledge to the Lupin Family, he has always keep on him a little piece of Lupin and the new life he was given in the form of a Lupine Flower Pin. He never wore it, but after everything that had happened during the events of LJS, he figured now would be the best time. 

The Pin always stays on his Lapel, close to his heart no matter what, where it will always stay.

Jigen’s third and “secret” palette is often used as a joke palette in a way, but is also just another I've grown to love. 

Essentially, I had come across this palette in a Discord server I am in

And naturally I had fallen in love with it. It had part 4 vibes but gloomy and tired and somewhat sad which seemingly worked very well. Lupin's design in LJS IS his Part 4 design but tweaked. Of course since the palette felt right I decided to give it to Jigen as sort of a “party” outfit; one that he often uses when he goes out with Fujiko, or for special occasions!

But then a friend had pointed out that Zenigata got the jigen palette in the picture set, with the blue vest and orange undershirt and green tie, and I thought of course it was funny. . . Until I realized that this image also exists

Which fits because Jigzeni, or as we lovingly refer to the ship as Hattrick, is a ship found in LJS

It seems Zeni can’t stop stealing the gunman’s clothes How they fit him we will never know

[patrochillesvibes]

Some of your Patrochilles headcannons? 😋

Since you weren't specific, I'll give you a range:

1. Sorry Supergiant Games, but Achilles is not a Thor knockoff. Besides the lack of modern nutrition and healthcare, his descriptions (e.g. swift-footed) invoke imagery of a gymnast. Grace and agility are the domains of gymnasts. Female gymnasts are typically about 5'. Male gymnasts are about 5'3".

Now say you want to counter me and argue that his epithets are about running. Fine. Even better. Runners are fucking short!! With the exception of some sprinters for the very short races (e.g. Bolt), runners aren't big. Think about the physics. Height creates drag which reduces speed.

I think you need to unlearn Western beauty standards and toxic masculinity.

So here are my hcs for height (left Iliad, right modern AUs):

Patroclus' height is debatable. Given that he was a great wrestler, I made him big.

2. A bit more on physical characteristics:

Achilles - Achilles has really nice curls (3A or 2C) that are golden blonde. He keeps his hair long down to his shoulder blades or mid-back. He has green eyes. His body is toned and sleek like a runner. Not a lot of bulk to him. He can’t grow a beard for shit. Or chest hair (his body hair is very light blonde and fine). Yes, he does shave his chest. And Pyrrha will shave her legs. He has golden skin. In Iliad/TSoA/Hades Game the skin tone is borderline unnatural looking.

Patroclus - Patroclus has wavy/curly (2B or 2C) that are very dark brown or black. He keeps his hair short. He has brown eyes. He has facial hair like Dev Patel in The Green Night (I like his hair for Pat too!) and a tasteful amount of chest hair. He is muscular. This is close to what he looks like (though a bit more muscular than the model and with a little more chest hair tool). In my head while I was reading the books, I pictured him with olive skin. But I am a very big fan of Black Patroclus!! Overall, he is very average looking.

3. I'm taking a page out of @darlingsart book and saying Achilles has a bellybutton piercing. It's very blingy, very VMAs Britney Spears.

4. Achilles is professionally skilled at blowjobs. I'm talking expert-master level. As I mentioned many times before, Patroclus is hung. 9 inches and thick like a coke can. Sinking something with such girth down your throat takes practice.

5. Achilles is bigender. He is both a man and a woman. He is not geNdeRfLUid. He identifies as both genders. Sometimes he's a guy, and he likes to be called Achilles. Sometimes she's a girl, and she likes to be called Pyrrha.

At times gender can definitely be a source of stress for Achilles. He loves having a boy pussy and a girl cock, but sometimes he wants a girl pussy too. And boobs. He’s greedy and it can be frustrating that he can’t have it all at the same time.

Patroclus doesn’t really understand Achilles’ ‘gender thing.’ He sees Pyrrha as more of a roleplay persona than an actual gender/person. So you could say he’s a bit transphobic. (I'm also a huge huge huge fan of trans Pyrrha)

6. Achilles could best be described as a feral housewife. “He doesn’t cook, doesn’t clean...” type except undomesticated. Anger issues and the inability to keep his mouth shut means he’s incompatible with the modern workforce. He’s also incredibly spoiled.

I agree with some authors that he could be a singer/musician, dancer, gym instructor, dance instructor, model, and professional athlete. But your typical 9-5 does not work for him.

Patroclus would make a great doctor (my preferred profession for him), veterinarian, or EMT. I can also see him as a lawyer or firefighter.

7. Patroclus is a Soft Dom/Daddy. Achilles is a brat (sub). Achilles typically bottoms but only because he’s a needy cockslut. They are exclusively monogamous. Achilles is Patroclusexual and Patroclus is into feet (bisexual).

8. Achilles can’t sleep without Patroclus. If Patroclus ever has to go on an overnight work trip and he can’t bring Achilles, he has to stay on the phone with Achilles until he falls asleep. Achilles is usually a hyperventilating sobbing mess.

9. On the rare occasions that Patroclus had to shave his beard, Achilles was left sobbing. Inconsolable. It was like the end of the world for him.

10. I have a lot of thoughts on cooking. Iliad/TSoA/Hades Game Achilles can do basic cooking (especially soups and stews) and grilling. This was learned on Pelion. He cannot bake. Like at all. Yeast won’t rise. Sugar and salt will be mixed up. Baking powder and baking soda will be mixed up. It’s a disaster.

Modern AU Achilles can’t cook or bake AT ALL. He has no patience for it, so food is either burnt, overcooked, or undercooked. For the longest time, he thought the smoke detector going off was a food timer to let him know when the food was done. All his friends and family know this and will do anything to get out of eating his food. Except Patroclus. Pat will eat anything with a smile on his face. Of course, no one has the heart to tell him his cooking is terrible. Not that he would believe them because Patroclus already told him he enjoys his cooking and Patroclus’ opinion is the only one that matters. This is why you shouldn’t lie, Patroclus. You made your bed and now you need to lie in it.

You can find more of my thoughts under the my hcs tag.

Also, to anyone reading this ask... I got this ask maybe 2-3 days ago. Either yesterday or the day before I got 3 asks that have gotten lost in my inbox. If you sent me asks in that time period, please resend.

[midnightsun-if]

Midnight Sun ROs

I apologize for not publishing this sooner, I’ve been meaning to but kept spacing about it. I know some of you have been curious, so I hope this helps with that!

ROs Parents

Koda Kingston

Appearance: Whiskey brown eyes, that are consistently filled with an abundance of warmth, offsets the medium brown tone of his skin. Fawn brown hair falls to his jawline in unruly waves. He has a muscular physique, reminiscent of a lumberjack, but he’s a big ball of fluff.

Outfit Aesthetic: He doesn’t have one singular outfit type that he wears— as he’ll try anything once. However, he does like wearing flannels over a tank top; being a bear-shifter he naturally runs a little warmer than the average supernatural.

Bear Form: Koda shifts into a Kodiak Bear— a hulking mass of pure muscle and strength (who enjoys getting scratched underneath the chin).

Scarlett Voltaire

Appearance: Dark auburn locks fall to her hips in a mixture of waves and soft curls, offsetting the fairness of her skin. Vibrant green eyes, that don’t seem real at times, are framed by dark lashes, complementing the elegant structure of her face. She has a gracefully lithe physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: Dresses of various types are something you can commonly see her wearing— usually with a pair of killer heels to match— in her signature colors of red, black, or midnight purple. Or a lace corset top paired with tailored pants (and heels).

A Notable Feature: Has a faint English accent.

Cyrus/Cyra Aurelia

Appearance: Lightly tanned skin brings out the vibrancy of their golden-red eyes; eyes that become more red, or gold, depending on their mood. Cyrus keeps his straight hair styled neatly, the platinum blonde strands kept short. Cyra, on the other hand, keeps hers to just past her shoulders. They have a delicately boned body, that hums with strength.

Outfit Aesthetic: As a member of House Aurelia, and the prospective ruler of the Eclipse Throne, they’re never seen in anything except their best. Tailored pants, perfectly ironed dress shirts, and knee high leather boots are things you can commonly see them wearing.

Phoenix Form: They don’t shift often— the spectacle of seeing a flaming bird hasn’t worn off for many people, even if they’ve seen it countless times before. With feathers that shift effortlessly from solid red, to a gentle orange, into blazing gold, they’re quite large for a typical Phoenix— gold talons sharper than any knife.

Quinn Grant

Appearance: Sapphire blue eyes stand out against their olive-toned complexion; filled with a cunning intelligence. M!Quinn keeps his dark brown hair short, only slightly showcasing the natural curls of it. F!Quinn keeps hers to just over her shoulders. They have an athletic physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: Dark Academia is the closest I could come to describe it.

Wolf Form: A massive, bi-pedal entity, their lupine form is a perfect mixture of strength and speed. With a coat of dark brown fur, intelligent sapphire eyes, and razor sharp claws, complementing sharp teeth, they’re quite intimidating.

Caden Randall

Appearance: Warm-beige skin has a deathly pallor that seems to hang around them; an aura that will never leave. Silver eyes, reminiscent of pale moonlight, bring out the inky blackness of their curly hair. M!Caden keeps his to just above his ears. F!Caden keeps hers to just below her jawline. They have a slender/lanky physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: They’re usually in uniform— an ironed black, button-down with slacks and sensible shoes. However, when they’re off-duty, they typically bundle up in various layers; being a phantom leaves them with a permanent chill that they to try to fight back against.

A Notable Feature: Has a beauty mark near their upper lip on the left side.

Sloane Addams

Appearance: Their eyes are a mixture of the softest brown, the sharpest green, and a fiery gold. Golden-brown hair, that always seems to have a tousled quality to it, falls to just beneath their jawline, complementing the light brown tone of their skin. They have a lean body type.

Outfit Aesthetic: Graphic shirts, typically a band-tee of some sort, ripped jeans, and either Vans or Converse shoes— a worn leather jacket, that’s clearly been well taken care of, completes the look.

Wolf Form: Taking on the form of a large wolf— they’ve always hated that their lupine form is just another instance of them being different. Their fur, that’s more golden than brown in this form, complements the ever-changing colors of their gaze; built for speed and agility over brute strength.

A Notable Feature: Has a tattoo sleeve of lilies on their right arm.

Blake Herrera

Appearance: Violet eyes, inherited from their other parent, brings out the tanned complexion of their skin. Wavy, ash blonde hair complements the angular structure of their face. M!Blake has his hair to just over his ears, always casually messy. F!Blake has hers to just beneath her shoulder blades. They have a toned physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: M!Blake typically wears silk shirts with the top few buttons undone, with either dark skinny jeans or tailored slacks, and dress shoes. F!Blake typically wears off-shoulder silk dresses and heels.

Reginald/Regina Presley

Appearance: With blue-green eyes, that are reminiscent of a turbulent sea, allowing for their light brown hair to be perfectly complemented. Their warm-ivory complexion brings out the faint gold highlights within each strand. Reggie keeps his hair short. Gina keeps hers to her shoulders. They have a lean, leaning more towards slender, physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: Oversized sweatshirts and comfortable pants are their go to. Something that they wouldn’t mind staying in for long hours of studying or practice.

A Notable Feature: Has a faint scar through their lip. (Think Lana Parrilla.)

[splinkghost]

Mphfpc goes to manhattan accidentally stumblin in to a ongoing war (mphfpc x pjo)

Two days ago Horace and a few others had been informed that there was a loop in the center of Manhattan, The loop had an artifact that the ymbrynes had for years thought to be destroyed.

A few peculiars were to retrieve it, 

Horace, Jacob, Millard, Olive and Bronwyn

“Ricky?!” Jacob exchlamed surprised, and slightly horrified.

The green spiky haired boy turns around to show a punk look, at certain a point of time Horace would have thought the guys  ‘punk’ choice of clothing to be atrocious but ever since he left cairnholm and the war,Horace would like to think that he is more open minded, so its not super atrocious, only slightly

“Jacob!?” the guy, Ricky, says also surprised.

“aren't you a mortal?”

“aren't you normal?”

They both just look at each other,

Bronwyn gives Jacob a questioning look, so does Olive, he was pretty sure that Millard did too but how could Hotace know.

“Me normal?” Ricky scoffs. “You know what i mean.” Jacob glares at Ricky.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” a guy from slightly behind ‘Ricky’ says.

Also wearing one of those nasty orange shirts, the boy had a small cut on his left cheek oozing out blood and he was holding a sword.

Ricky looks at the boy

 “No we don't, I just randomly guessed his name, Damien” Ricky said, in a flat tone of voice.

The boy, Damien,  rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow, he was waiting for an explanation

“He is my, erm.. He is my ex” Ricky nodded towards jacob.

“Wait for real?” Damien asked.

Ricky looked offended “yeah? What's the problem with that.”

“I don't know, i just didn't think you would be into guys that basic or something” He explained.

“Hey!” Jacob squawked indignantly from my left. 

Both Bronwyn and Ricky snorted, and Horace could hear Millard snort too.

“Wait, you're interested in guys?” Olive asked.

“Olive, i don't tell you everything your like ten”

 Olive grumbled something about her technically being 97.

“But, what about you and Emma? she is a girl-” Olive was cut off by Jacob in a much louder voice saying “I am bi” his cheeks were slightly  tinged with red.

Ricky covered up a laugh by coughing. So did Brownyn.

Olive turned to Bronwyn and mouthed ‘what's that?’

‘Later’ Bronwyn mouthed back. 

Ricky bends down to pick up a long bronze sword that Horace ofcourse hadn't realized was on the asphalt.

“What are you?” Ricky questioned, simultaneously Bronwyn asked “wait mortals?”

"Peculiar" Jacob answered towards Ricky.

Ricky ignored him and nodded towards Bronwyn

“yea like half god half mortal, like you guys are demigods right?”

"Demigods?" Millard repeated from my right,

both Damien and Ricky jumped and directed their weapons towards Millard

“Show yourself” Damien sneared.

“Whoah woah woah” Bronwyn said, she let go of Olive's hand and put her hands up in a ‘calm down’ gesture.

“Let's not get violent” she pointed at an empty place where millard presumably was “That's just Millard, he is invisible” Bronwyn threw a modern hoodie towards Millard, where she got the hoodie? we will never know.

Millard caught the blue hoodie, and slid it on.

“Happy?” he grumbled. 

“yes, very” Olive smiled at him showing him a thumbs up.

Both Ricky and Damien put down their weapons

"Wait, Millard.. Invisible?” Ricky knitted his eyebrows and he glanced towards Jacob, “Like..those… stories you told?” He breathed out.

Jacob nodded “yeah” he whispered “-those stories”

“they were- are real”

That's when Horace decided to say something

“Im so confused”

Damian nodded sympathetically 

“me to bro, me to”

I literally wrote this with 3 hours of sleep in school. kind of a crackfic this sucks but im not gonna re write it or anything

[dadriusbiggestfan]

Drabble idea - Darius hears some random bystander complain about Hunter being adopted by him, and Darius snaps.

Darius had been having a relatively good day, He had managed to negotiate with Hettie Cutburn over building plans, successfully give Hunter a gift without the boy trying to repay him with in the first twenty minutes, got Eberwolf to take his weekly bath early, and even managed to get rid of that one annoying black head on his nose.

However he needed to get him quickly before he missed the start of ‘Real House partners of the left foot.’ It was a new season, and he had managed to talk Hunter into watching it with him!

He was walking through a deserted street, trying to get home, when he noticed two men working at the end of the road.

One of the men was entirely foreign to him, with rich dark skin and a thick mop of dark orange hair, but the other was annoyingly familiar, the ex-scout had been assigned to him for one to many missions.

“And it’s just not fair- that little brat used to walk around the place like he owned it, and he gets away with no consequences, and I honestly don’t believe that abused crap for a second- we’d have known if the Emperor was beating him, for titans sake! Just because everyone is fooled by his sweet little Angel act, doesn’t mean I am, he’s lying to everyone about his true self, and I’ll prove it!” The former scout, a muscly man with olive green hair, a pale complexion, and a thin scar over his eyebrow, said bitterly.

Darius was only half listening, the words not properly processing in his head, until…

“And then the spoilt brat gets adopted by some rich, stuck up coven head! As if he wasn’t being spoiled enough by his uncle. He’ll be the next big issue we have to face, mark my words.”

Darius only knew one child who’d ever been supposedly beaten by the emperor, and was conveniently adopted by a rich coven head. His child.

Hunter meant so much to Darius, and him making the decision to confess the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his Uncle to the court trying to track Belos’s extensive crimes had been a decision he’d cried and sobbed over in the days following, despite the surprising amount of support he had received from scouts and guards in the castle who had seen blood stains and bruises which had matched his claims.

And to hear someone dare deny it, to say his poor baby had been spoiled and had never suffered filled him with boiling hot rage, pricking and tearing at his skin.

As much as he knows he could easily win a fight against this man, he has Hunter to think about now. He can’t go and start fights with people because they say one irritating thing.

“Honestly- I’d have paid to watch that little brat get the shit knocked out of him-“

Nevermind, yes he can.

The man is on the ground before Darius even realised what he’s doing, Darius is screaming profanities at the man who is struggling to get away, clearly taking him and his orange haired accomplice by complete surprise.

Darius does let the man go, eventually, before encasing him in a wall of abomination.

Darius stalked closer to him, the man was made of muscle, but for however buff and toned he was, Darius was always that little bit stronger, and it was obvious the man had received a nasty fright.

“Don’t you ever talk about my poor boy like that ever again, you have no idea what he’s been through, and if I ever even suspect that you’re talking shit about him like some gossiping teenager, you’ll be sorry.” Darius promises, looking at the trembling man. His orange haired friend had left the scene.

Darius let the man go, and let him run off.

Anyway- where was he?

Right, his show starts in around fifteen minutes, he has to hurry, especially if he wants to hug Hunter beforehand.