#but of course he's totes more into the architecture

[earthstellar]

still thinking about Earthspark Bumblebee being stuck with the kids entirely by himself for any slightly extended period of time and it’s so funny 

because I keep thinking about all the stuff kids have said to me when I’ve been babysitting or back when I worked in education and it’s so good 

there is no way Bumblebee would be fully prepared, at this stage, for Child Questions and Statements 

some real things children have said to me: 

-”I’M ANGRY” “thank you for telling me! why are you feeling angry?” “BECAUSE!!! RAIN ISN’T MADE OF ICE [takes big breath] CREEEEEEAM”

-”when the sun goes down it’s good because the sun needs to sleep too, but then the moon comes out at night so when does the moon sleep? WHEN DOES IT SLEEP?” 

(this was eventually resolved by me reading them “Goodnight Moon” as proof that the moon does in fact sleep, because why would we tell it goodnight if it didn’t also have a bedtime)

-”since dinosaurs were real, are we real?” 

-”if dead people live in cemeteries, how do they get their food underground? can we call Pizza Hut? I want pizza like dead people!!! I WANT DEAD PEOPLE PIZZA” (this eventually became “peepza” the longer this demand continued) 

-”planes go up. if I jump hard enough with super jump power, could I go to France? can we get a trampoline? I wanna go to France. WAIT!!! WOULD I NEED A PASS-PORP??? I DON’T HAVE A PASS-PORP!! NOOO” 

-”I AM APPLE MAN” [child proceeds to walk into the room swinging an apple around in a tote bag over his head, like some kind of medieval flail] 

-”I DON’T WANNA PLAY!” “oh no, why not?” “A BIRD POOPED ON MY FAVOURITE TREE” 

-”TODAY I LEARNED WE HAVE WATER INSIDE US!!! NOT JUST PEE!!!! pee pee pee pee pee pee pee pee” 

-”how does the floor work?” 

(legitimately a good question but it will be a while before they can apply for architectural engineering school, we ended up watching a documentary on how Tudor houses were constructed to try to solve this one lmao) 

-”I looked at my pen, I looked too hard, and it stopped working. I have mind powers like Mr Professor from X-MEN!!” [child proceeded to spend the entire day trying to “be strong brained” by staring at things] 

now, of course, the kid/Terrans are a bit more developed than this, a lot of these were from younger children, which is probably obvious 

but I can foresee there being a lot of questions about Earth etc. that Bumblebee might genuinely not know the answer to, or he might get faced with child non-sequiturs that throw him off

and because the Terrans may not actually understand yet how certain natural events (like rain) occur, I can imagine there would be some interesting questions, some of which might be more immediately answerable and some which would probably take more work 

I feel like Nightshade would ask more scientifically inquisitive questions which Bee might not be able to answer, stuff like that

but either way, there would be so many questions 

and some of them are bound to be wild 

lmao 

[nerdieforpedro]

Lunch is happening right?

Part two of Two Hearts by the Ocean

Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC)

This part is for general audiences - rating will depend on individual parts. Overall will be 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx 2.1k

Warnings: Javier being a sweetheart, anxiety, overthinking, more fluff! 🥰

Summary: Our kind pair meet up and go for lunch…eventually. Once they do, they finally eat and it leads to an important question that Javier needs answered.

Notes: Nerdie is fully in her soft fluffy marshmallow era. This fic so such a joy to write. I’m glad people are enjoying the softness. Some of you may be surprised to know that I do enjoy the fluff at times. ☺️ Hehe!

Main Masterlist/ Javier Gutierrez Masterlist/ Two Hearts by the Ocean Series

Javier returned to his compound and checked in on the chef who kept it simple by making grilled chicken, a blue cheese salad and sliced some bread he bought from the market in town with garlic butter. Javi requested for regular butter instead, just in case. Not an expectation of course, but it never hurts to plan for these things. After squaring things away with the chef, he returned to his quarters and undressed, showered and put on his favorite red relaxed button down shirt with tan slacks and brown loafers. He checked on the chef once more and went to inquire what was for dessert when he saw a chocolate cake coming out of the oven. The question of whether to frost the cake or not was put on hold as Abigail texted Javi that she was ready. Gutierrez left it up to the chef as he headed to his golf cart, replying that he was on his way to get her.

Abigail stood in front of the resort where Javier had parked the golf cart not too long ago. Her excitement was matched by her anxiety over putting herself out there and agreeing to lunch with a man she didn’t know. But it was fine, right? Treat it like a date, at his enormous compound, villa house that has a private beach. That happens every day. She did text her girlfriends and let them know that she wouldn’t be at the beach or resort. That she was out exploring, which was as vague as she could be. She thought about it and added that she would be touring some of the buildings and architecture of the island, she might be back late. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She brought a smaller tote back which she stuck her sunscreen, a bottle of water, her phone, wallet, charger, her notebook and a few pens, hand lotion and sanitizer. Javier appeared to be a sweet man who was kind enough not to kick her off his beach and was inviting her to lunch, things should be fine. Great even, when’s the last time she had lunch with someone who wasn’t a friend, family or for work?

Pulling up to the curb, Javier spotted Abigail holding her brown tote back in front of her. She was wearing the same yellow wide brimmed sun hat from earlier but this time, she wore a strapless blue dress that was the same light shade as the cloudless sky above. Her red matching nail polish on her fingernails and toes stood out against the quiet blue of her dress. She wore simple brown thong sandals and waved when she saw him. He returned her wave as he slowed the golf cart to a stop and practically beamed, “I have come back for you Abigail. I take it you have an appetite for lunch now?” He asked as he got out of the cart and rushed to the passenger side to ensure she was in all the way along with her dress that rose above her knees when she sat down. Once settled in, she nodded and smoothed out her dress, patting her thighs softly to remain calm. Javier was back behind the wheel, but didn’t take off yet.

“So you did Javi. I certainly am hungry. Um, what are we having for lunch?” His hand covered her left one and squeezed, her patting stopped. Javier could tell that she was nervous, he didn’t want her to be. His cousin’s frightening one, not him, though they do not know each other and hopefully never will. The smile he had on his face waned a bit as he turned toward her.

“Abigail, are you sure you still want to have lunch with me? You do not need to feel pressured into doing so.” The woman’s head shook quickly and she placed her right hand over his hand that held hers.

“No, no! It’s not that I don’t want to have lunch with you. I’m just nervous. I tend to anticipate the worst, but I know you’ve shown me none of that. I’m learning to let go and relax. I find it difficult. Please, let’s eat lunch Javier.” Her face still showed some reservation to Javi, but he would see how lunch went at the very least, she appeared a little less anxious than when she first got in the cart. With a nod, he released her hand for a moment and started the golf cart, then held it again.

“Alright Abby, but please, if you feel uncomfortable at any point let me know. You are going to be my guest in my home so it is my job to make sure you are at ease. Yes?” His face was serious as he informed her of his expectation. The view of his home was even more impressive from the front given the long driveway and lush greenery. She wondered how many landscapers it might have taken.

“Yes, I’ll make sure to let you know, I-I think I should be okay now though. Sorry about that.” Abigail apologized again, she may not have needed to, but it was very clear that he was much kinder than even she initially thought and understanding. He added that she didn’t need to apologize for how she feels, that it’s alright.

“I must confess that I feel nervous as well. I’m going to have lunch with an enchantingly gorgeous woman this afternoon. My day has improved greatly.” Javier pulled to a stop near the bottom of the steps that lead to the front door of his home. The heat to Abigail’s face was not from the sun. What had he been nervous for? He’d be able to convince a leopard that they would look perfect with stripes. Should I be concerned with my lack of concern? Might have something to do with the fact that I can see nearly all his teeth in that pretty smile he has on his face. I might be staring…that’s rude, but I also feel like he knows how attractive he is.

“…And that makes him all the more alluring. Such a stunningly warm man.” Her thoughts spilled from her lips. Javi’s smile turned to a grin.

“Do you mean me Abby? You find me alluring? This makes me swell with joy and relief.” He stepped out of the cart and walked over to the passenger side where he extended his hand. “I suppose I did take to you rather quickly. It may have been the work of your polka dots and red bathing suit at first, talking with you is a delight.”

Keeping further thoughts on any swelling he mentioned, Abby placed her hand in his. “Yes you are Javi. I believe you know that though.” She chuckled, stepping out of the golf cart and walking up the stairs with him to meet two towering cherrywood doors that a butler opened. “I enjoyed seeing you in your speedo too and I like the burnt orange against your skin. You look amazing with and without clothes.” They stepped across the threshold and her grip tightened on his hand. That was way too suggestive, we haven’t even eaten yet. That’s not the impression I wanted to give him.

“You have quite a way with your words Abigail.” Javier added a playful rasp to her name and brought her hand closer so he could hold it with both hands. “I understand what you meant. Do not fret. Tranquilízate (calm down) Abby.”

Javier gave Abby a brief tour on the way to the dining room to which her head turned in every direction to marvel at the house itself, the artwork, the hardwood and marble. Arriving in the dining room, Javier pulled out the chair for her, which she was momentarily confused by but sat down. His seat was set on the far side of the long table, but Javi picked up his place setting and moved it to the chair next to Abby.

“It appears to be a bit silly to be all the way over there. This is much better, do you agree?” He took his napkin and placed it in his lap as she nodded giggling. This is good, Javier thought to himself, she almost looks as she did on the beach. Ella está tranquila (She is calm).

The chef and a maid brought out the meal and served the pair. Abigail complimented the chef and thanked both him and the maid before starting in on her chicken. She was actually hungry and if she chewed a bit slowly, she may not say anything else embarrassing to this nice handsome man. Just act like you’ve spoken to another person Abby. It’s not that hard. Small talk was made over the meal about the food, the beauty of the house and beach. Her throat cleared when Javier asked how long she would be in Spain. She hadn’t been expecting the question, but it wasn’t a strange one, especially since it seems like he wanted to get to know her. “We arrived this week, Sunday, so we’ll be here for the next rest of this week and two additional ones. It’s a miracle we were actually able to coordinate our schedules.” She explained, it sounded like a joke but it wasn't. The group, half thought they were imagining things when everyone had the same block of time available.

“So Javi, I take that to mean you’d like to have other lunches?” Setting her fork down after finishing her chicken and half her salad, she was curious.”With me?” She maybe didn’t mean to add that last question, that was out of her own shock. They hadn’t finished lunch yet.

Javier took a few sips of his water and used his napkin to wipe his mouth though Abby didn’t see anything on his lips. She had been keeping track, and trying to be subtle about it. Not that she was quite sure what that looked like. The man has these beautiful strands of chocolate-cinnamon swirls that match his facial hair along with his large nose that fits his face. Though, where else is it supposed to fit? Focusing on another part of Javier didn’t work so well either, his neck has a vein that kinda jumps out at times when he’s chewing and-

“I am unsure who else I would be having lunch with Abby.” The soft chuckle matched with a mischievous look in his eyes had her palms flat on the table near her plate. She was more aware this time so she didn’t move them. “I do have a question for you, it is of the utmost importance.” Javier clasped his hands together and set his chin upon them, pausing for dramatic effect. “Have you seen ‘Paddington 2’?” Blinking, she tilted her head to see if he was going to say he was kidding. The man across from her did not appear to be, he was waiting for her to answer.

“I have not. Is this a dealbreaker Javi?” Her mind is still trying to catch up. She knows of Paddington, she hasn’t seen either movie, her nieces had been into Monster High and the Bratz so she didn’t take them so see it.

“Not if you are open to watching it with me.” His eyes remained trained on Abby, curious to her answer.

“I haven’t seen either Paddington movie. Should we watch one today and another one another day?” She proposed, if he wanted to watch a movie or two, that was more than fine with her. She might even suggest a couple herself. She wasn’t prepared for Javier to pop up from the table and knock his chair back. He took both her hands into his and planted one kiss on the back of each.

“You would be willing to watch both of them with me?! My enjoyment of this day has increased tenfold! Vamos al cine! (Let’s go to the movie theater)!” Abigail was up on her feet and with Javier’s arm around waist before she realized her point of view had changed. He was guiding her out of the dining room as she looked up at his bright face.

“Espera (wait) Javi! ¿Qué pasa con la comida?! (What about the food?!)”

“I can tell them to bring whatever you like! Estoy muy contento porque voy a ver la película contigo (I’m excited to watch the movies with you)!”

Moving quickly down the hallway, all Abigail could do was mutter to herself with a soft smile that Javi missed in both his explanation of why he enjoys the movies, especially Paddington 2 and hurry to make it to his private theater.

“Eres un cielo (You are very cute) Javi. Estoy metido en un lío (I am in trouble).”

Part One Part Three

Peeps who pass the Paddington 2 test 🧸: @innerpersonunknown @trulybetty @tinytinymenace @maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @grogusmum @secretelephanttattoo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept @lady-bess @readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @avastrasposts @bitchwitch1981 @missladym1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @inept-the-magnificent @i-own-loki

[roseofdarknessblog]

By the Sea (Marcel Galliard x Reader)

Word count: 2 620

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

A/N: My anxiety is through the roof since yesterday and I really needed to distract myself somehow. So here... have some nice Marcel fluff for a better day and take care ❤️

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a picture-perfect day at the beach. Clear blue skies, a good book, and the company of your beloved boyfriend, the one and only Marcel Galliard.

By the Sea

A light breeze kissed your cheeks and woke you up from an unexpected nap. With eyes still heavy with sleep, you blinked a few times trying to make out your surroundings. You were at the beach, of course – laying on your favorite blanket, your tote bag comfortably folded under your head, and a nearly empty picnic basket just a few feet away. Marcel got the idea of taking a short drive to the nearest beach out of nowhere, and you weren′t objecting. It was way too long since the two of you spent the day like this. Somewhere nice and just relaxing. Not thinking about work, school, or any other responsibility.

„You okay?“ Marcel asked while you were still sleepily looking up at the bright blue sky. Only a handful of puffy white clouds were seen scattered around randomly. You could hear seagulls somewhere in the distance, while the slowly coming and going sea waves were creating one of your favorite sounds ever. The weather was absolutely perfect, warm and sunny, with only a slight breeze that made the heat more bearable.

„Yeah, just... how long was I asleep?“ you asked, only then noticing that your still open book way laying on your chest.

Reading was your favorite form of escaping reality. Especially, when you picked up a book you′ve read in the past and loved dearly. Just like this morning, when you decided to start Howl′s Moving Castle for like a fifth time. But it was your first time reading the special edition Marcel got you last Christmas. He knew how much you loved the story, and despite you already owning the whole trilogy, he didn′t hesitate even for a second, when he saw this edition at the bookstore while searching for a perfect gift for you – his beloved girlfriend. He knew you would love it. And he was right, just like always, when it came to your favorite things.

„Not too long, maybe thirty minutes. Didn′t want to wake you up, you really need to rest after the last few months.“ You smiled, closed your book, and rolled over to your side so you could be closer to Marcel. He immediately put his phone down, where he was looking for some summer vacation options, and turned his attention to you. „What do you think about Venice, Bologna, Rome, Florence, or Palermo? Would you like to go there?“

„You wanna go to Italy?“

He shrugged. „Maybe, it looks amazing there. The scenery, all that architecture, and apparently brilliant food. We could go road-tripping around the country if you′d like. So we can see as many places as we want.“

It really did sound appealing. Spending a week or two together, exploring a new country none of you visited before. Marcel had seen many places around the world before the two of you started dating and was more than happy when there was a chance to travel somewhere. Especially with you as his most precious and loving travel buddy. He also loved showing you photos and videos of all the places he visited, while promising to one day go back there with you. Especially to the locations that caught your eyes the most. Places like Iceland, Switzerland, Greece, Ireland, Canada or Hawaii.

„Do we have enough money for something like that? I mean... I would like to go, it sounds absolutely amazing, but I′m not sure we can afford it this summer. We just moved to the new apartment, I have to pay for my car and...“ You loved when Marcel shut you up with a gentle but passionate kiss. Mostly in moments like these, when your need to overanalyze every little detail started to ruin the magic of the present moment.

„What did we agree on before coming here? No overthinking, overanalyzing, or worrying about anything,“ Marcel said, his lips still just mere inches from your mouth. With another smile he kissed the tip of your nose, pulling you into a tight hug. „It′s not like we have to pay for everything right now at this moment. We have time to think it through. It was just a suggestion.“

„I know, sorry,“ you said, burying your face into his chest.

He spent a lot of time at work these last few weeks. And with you trying to balance university and a part-time job, there were days when the two of you hardly saw each other. Mostly just early in the morning or in the evening, when it was finally time to sleep. You missed him terribly every single day and knew, he missed you too. Texting each other throughout the day just wasn't the same.

„It′s fine, don't apologize,“ he whispered, planting a kiss on the top of your head. „I was thinking that maybe we could go as a little group. You know... us two, and Porco with Pieck. If you don't mind, of course.“

„Why would I? Your brother is always good company and Pieck is my best friend since kindergarten. I′m happy to spend time with her.“ Not to mention that it was thanks to you, that she and Marcel′s baby brother, as he liked to address Porco to make him mad, started dating in the first place. „And speaking of couples... did you hear about Annie and Bert? She sent me a picture this morning when you were in the shower... and then I somehow forgot to tell you.“

„I heard, of course. He called me and Reiner with him when he went to buy the engagement ring. Said he picked out a few different options but wasn′t sure which one to get, so he needed someone else′s opinion.“

„Why didn't you tell me?“ you asked surprised, pulling away slightly to look at him. Gosh, he was so effortlessly beautiful, when the light breeze was playing with strands of his hair. The way the sunlight made his eyes look like dark pools of honey always took your breath away. „How long did you know that he′s going to propose to her?“

„Why? Because you and Annie are together all the time and I didn′t want to risk you accidentally telling her.“ You rolled your eyes at him. Marcel laughed, lovingly tugging a few strands of hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers brushed against your cheek just a moment before he pressed his lips to the exact same spot. „Do you like the ring we picked out?“

You nodded excitedly, remembering the photo Annie sent you this morning. „It′s really beautiful. Simple and elegant, it matches Annie and her style perfectly. Bert really knows what suits her the best.“ The two of them were dating since high school, so it was only natural, that they knew each other more than perfectly.

And it was thanks to them, you got to know Marcel. Since Pieck, Annie, and you were classmates in high school, you knew Bertholdt for a pretty long time as well. But it was just shortly before graduation, that he introduced you to his neighbor and one of his best friends – Marcel Galliard. For you, it was love at first sight. Just like in all of those books and movies you′ve read and seen. And now, almost five years later, you couldn′t be happier. With Marcel by your side, you had absolutely everything in the whole wide world.

„Would you like a similar one?“ Marcel asked suddenly, visibly enjoying the panic that made your cheeks turn red.

„What... what do... what do you mean?“ you stuttered, burying your face into his chest once again while laughing nervously. „I hate how you always make me flustered when I expect it the least,“ you mumbled into his shirt, while Marcel laughed at your reaction wholeheartedly.

„It was just an innocent question, nothing more. It′s not like I′m gonna kneel before you and pop out a ring from my pocket. But if you′d like that...“

Even more shocked, you once again looked into his face, finding a cheeky grin on his lips. His eyes were so visibly filled with happiness and love. It almost made your heart burst from the realization that it′s because of you.

It was you, who made him this happy.

You and only you.

„Are you trying to tell me that you bought me an engagement ring as well?“ Marcel shrugged, rolling over to his back with you still in his embrace. He made himself more comfortable, one hand running up and down your back, while you rested on his broad chest.

„Maybe I saw one that I really liked. Just maybe...“

With a quiet laugh, you kissed the warm skin on his neck, closing your eyes for a short while. Was this really happening? At that moment... was that really your life? Suddenly everything seemed so easy and beautiful. So simple and calm. When the two of you were joking around like that, you truly had hope for the future. In everything that was about to come your way. With Marcel by your side, it was truly effortless to imagine the rest of your life. All you saw was never-ending happiness. Not necessarily without a few hard or unpleasant days, they were a part of everyone's life, but still... with him, even the darkest moments would pass much quicker.

„Marcel...“

„What? I′m just planning ahead a little. Can you blame me?“ Looking down at you, his eyes studied your face for a short while. The perfect quiet moment between the two of you was only disturbed by the calming sounds of the sea. „I love you so much,“ he finally said, grabbing your chin gently and bringing your face closer for a little kiss. His lips always tasted like the sweetest flavors of love one could imagine.

„I love you too,“ you said, kissing him once more and running your hand through his hair. It was so thick and soft, you just loved to play with it at every given chance. Mostly in bed, when the two of you were cuddled up next to each other.

Marcel loved to fall asleep while you were playing with his hair and reading to him at the same time. Listening to your voice, as you read him a few pages from your current read always helped him relax, even after the most stressful day. Because when he was there, curled up in your arms and listening to your every word very carefully, he felt safe and loved. And you? You were so grateful for the boy slowly falling asleep right there next to you, that sometimes tears started to pool in your eyes, while your lips were smiling and your whole chest was full of the warmest and nicest feelings possible.

„Coming here was a good idea, we should do it more often. All the problems seem miles away when the sea is at hands reach.“

„I collected some seashells while you were sleeping. A couple of kids ran by, ranting about how many they found over there by those big rocks, so I went to check it out.“ Without you asking to see them, Marcel reached over to the picnic basket and pulled out the now-empty container, that had your favorite fruit salad inside before. Now it was filled with colorful seashells of various shapes and sizes. „You always loved putting them on display at home. And I owe you a few new ones for those I accidentally destroyed last time.“

It was a funny story, actually. Marcel had a few days off, so he decided to help you out with some work around the new apartment. Cleaning was never his favorite activity to pass time, even though you tried to convince him, that moping the floor, doing laundry, or washing the dishes made him look absolutely irresistible. After all... it wasn′t a complete lie.

On that unfortunate day, Marcel was trying to be nice and clean the apartment before you got home from school. What he wasn't planning on doing, was knocking down one of your favorite display bowls from your bookshelf, which was filled with many different seashells the two of you found during your trips to the beach. The bowl was shattered beyond repair and many of the seashells as well, especially the more fragile ones.

It made you upset at first, but seeing how sorry Marcel was... You didn′t have the heart to stay mad at him for long. One delicious home-cooked dinner was enough to make you forgive him. It was no secret, that Marcel knew his way around the kitchen. Your friends loved coming over for lunch or dinner when he was the one cooking or baking. His chocolate-chip banana bread was to die for, not to mention the best poppy seed and lemon muffins under the sun.  

„They are adorable,“ you said, while looking through the seashells Marcel picked up. „Just try not to break them this time.“ Leaning closer, you kissed his cheek, resting your forehead against his. „Thank you.“

There was nowhere to hurry. Not today. The two of you could stay for as long, as you like. So you suggested waiting until sunset, even though it was many hours away. But Marcel didn't mind. Not when you picked up your book once again and started reading out loud. He liked Howl and Sophie′s story as well, his favorite character being the Fire demon Calcifer himself.

While you were reading, he was sorting through the seashells, admiring them one by one, and ultimately used some of them to decorate a cute little sand castle he put together at the edge of the blanket. He said it was his own version of Howl′s castle from the story.

The rest of the day was spent simply relaxing, fooling around in the pleasantly cool water, and taking some photos. You loved to capture simple moments like these, just to have the option to look back at them, when you needed it the most.

„About that engagement ring...“ Marcel said unexpectedly with his head in your lap, while the sky high above you seemed like it was on fire. Rich orange and golden hues transformed the beach around you into a scenery that seemed straight out of a fantasy novel. „Would you like something simple like Annie, or something more extra?“

„You know my style, so I think you′re perfectly capable of choosing the right one.“ To be honest, you never thought about how your engagement ring should look like. After all, it wasn′t up to you. „I don't like showing off.“

„It′s not about showing off. More about...“ He thought for a second, his hands playing with your fingers. „I don′t know, I just want to be sure, that everything is going to be perfect. I want you to remember that moment forever.“

„It′s going to be perfect because it will be you, with who I′ll share the moment,“ you assured him, leaning down and gently kissing his lips. „I can′t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Marcel.“ The tips of your fingers were tracing along his jaw and chin.

„We′ll make the best of it. I can assure you.“

Little did you know, that on that day the two of you visited the beach as boyfriend and girlfriend for the very last time. All that talk about engagement rings wasn′t just to fill in the quiet moments. Marcel really did buy a ring you absolutely adored from the second you saw it, when he knelt in front of you with love and hope in his beautiful brown eyes.

So the next time you visited your favorite beach, you went there as Marcel′s fiancee and future Mrs. Galliard.

[senatushq]

NAME. Revas AGE & BIRTH DATE. 2500+ & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Eladrin SEASON. Spring OCCUPATION. Warder FACE CLAIM. Chase Stokes

BIOGRAPHY

Spring would forever be the season of rebirth, of revival from the harsh pass of the Winter months. It would be the season that coaxed the plants to begin their growth once more, and to welcome all those animals that had been dormant to return to its gentle embrace. It would also be the season that welcomed a bright eyed babe into its comfort, into the gardens of flowers that strove higher and higher towards the warming sun. A small child who seemed keen to begin moving without delay, from rolling around in the lush grasses to crawling through bushes that bloomed with flowers of every color, until he was able to move on his own two feet through the brambles.

Revas had been named appropriately so, for everything was a new sense of freedom for the small fey child. He explored every tree that his little hands were able to grab upon the branches of, and he blossomed every flower and plant that he could find himself in contact with. Magic had come so naturally to the Eladrin, just as it had to his parents, a Spring noble and his Summer warder. The pair had been destined for greatness, a clash of seasons that found them doting upon the child that they had welcomed into the heart of it. When the rain had passed and the flowers had bloomed, when the sun was high in the sky, but not too hot, that was where Revas had thrived.

As magic coursed through his very being, with the sound of song on the tip of his tongue, Revas was granted the privilege to roam. To explore the world around him, from the gardens within the Otherworld to the forests of the mortal realm. As a Spring noble, Solas took pleasure in toting his child around, to show him off to the other nobles, all the while taking him to the mortal realms if only to show Revas those that would forever be beneath them. It had begun like that, and the years had turned to centuries with the Spring child believing himself to be something far greater than the humans that had flocked to the Eladrin. To what the fey could give them, from stories to architecture to the weapons that would eventually be turned against them, until they were hunted back into the depths of the Otherworld.

It would not have taken that long, however, until Solas had found himself at the mercy of the Queen, with the talk of exile upon her tongue. A crime committed against his own which had resulted in a death, and for that, punishment needed to be enacted. The minutes had turned to hours which had turned to days, a blink of an eye for the fey, but the longest seconds for one Summer warder, and the child that remained impatiently by her side. Ileana had whispered so tenderly to Revas in those moments, a mother wishing only of the best for her child, and hoping that exile was not the sentence that his father received.

Yet, exile it was. From the Spring courts and from the Otherworld itself, cast into the mortal realm that he had once deemed himself far greater than. The Queen’s punishment fell only to Solas, but it was not simply he who departed from the fey lands, a young Revas in his arms while his mother cried and begged for her child to remain with her. Her cries had fallen upon deaf ears, for while she had been Revas’ mother, she had also been a warder from the Summer courts, and it was Solas who deemed that the child should remain with him. And so they had left, with hardly a moment more spent between mother and son, before his father took him to the only place that would have welcomed an exile fey.

The ocean floor had once been barren, save for the coral and the fish that had called it home, until Logon had transformed it into something magical. A safe haven that exiled or those who no longer wished to reside within the Faerie Courts or the Otherworld could settle within, could have somewhere that they once more could call home. And while Revas mourned the loss of his mother, of the gentle caress of the Spring season, it would not be long before he had settled within the watery kingdom. Nor would it be long before he was set upon with instructions of becoming a warrior, of a once noble fey to become something more than simply the child of an exiled one. And so he trained, day and night with his magic, with a blade in hand, until he had become something that could be useful.

And useful he had become, for Logon himself, the orchestrator of the sanctuary that Revas and his father had begun to call home. It was to Logon that he would become warder of, to stand beside no matter how the ocean changed around them, nor of the world that the other seemed keen to not return to. The same could not be said of Revas, however, who took his moments when they had come, to return to the lands that had once been his freedom. As the Spring equinox touched upon the mortal realm, Revas rose from the depths of the ocean to walk once more among the plants and foliage, to watch as the flowers bloomed and opened for him with a simple touch of a finger. And it was during these stents that he had been granted so many encounters.

The first being that of which his half-brother, born from the Summer Eladrin that he had been taken from, had remained within the Otherworld despite the loss of her lover and child. It was through Tamlen that Revas learned more of his mother, that he had been granted all the stories that he would have heard but had missed out on. And it was Revas who shared all the wonders of the underwater kingdom with Tamlen, of the mortal realm that he had explored in great depth to shed light on what the humans had not yet destroyed with greedy hands.

It was the second, however, that would become a catalyst for the drastic change in the Spring Eladrin. A young woman, caught upon the waves of the ocean as she struggled from the remnants of a destroyed ship, until Revas had taken pity upon her. Siren songs had drawn the ship to the precise point of where it would have crashed upon the rocks, where the men who had stood upon its bow had been cast into the water, yet it had not been she who the fey had been after. And it had been she who Revas had pushed to the safety of the shores, if only so that she could tell others to avoid the waters of the kingdom. It had not been his plan to fall in love with her, nor to return to those shores as often as he had with songs on his tongue and gifts within his hands. She told him of the mortal realm, of the beauty and of the destruction, and he told her stories of old that had been passed upon the lips of the Eladrin.

Until she had been taken from him, and life had once more become a distrust of the mortals that claimed more and more of the land for themselves. Who destroyed forests in the sake of building bigger and bigger homes and castles and walls to keep out those they simply did not like. Animals and creatures alike were driven from their own homes, their own sanctuaries for the simple pursuit of humans, and Revas could not stand for that. Those that found themselves straying too far from their villages and towns and cities would eventually find themselves tangled up in vines and foliage, before they were drug down into the dirt. It was there that they would become food for the plants and animals and any other such living thing that would have benefited from the substance.

All the while, Revas remained as the dutiful warder, his time split between the watery depths of the kingdom that Logon had constructed, and the lands that he could find himself in with his brother. Yet, even as he returned, time and time again, the numbers that had once filled the great halls of the underwater kingdom had begun to dwindle. The waters had become polluted, and no longer were they safe, for the fey nor the animals that they had lived so closely with. If actions had not been taken, it would become a watery grave for Revas and Logon, as well. And though the plight of fey such as themselves did nothing to motivate the noble, it would be Revas’ own words that would eventually push them to return to the land, to the world that had changed so much since they had last been a part of it. And perhaps, within the city that would become something of a home to them, Revas would be able to seek out his brother, or even the one that he had lost all those years ago.

PERSONALITY

+ audacious, devoted, protective – reckless, malicious, pretentious

PLAYED BY CHERYL. CST. She/Her.

[fancykraken]

Reddie college AU where Eddie and Ben travel out of state for a big track and field competition. Richie is too swamped with all his chem labs, midterms, and improv classes to take the five day journey and cheer on his boyfriend. This will be the longest they’ve been apart since before they can remember.

When Richie see’s Eddie off at the bus station—with lots of bickering, kisses, and Ben telling everyone he doesn’t know them—Richie brings out his Bluetooth speakers, holds them over his head a la Say Anything, and starts blasting Simple Minds Don’t You (Forget About Me) as the bus starts to leave.

Forehead pressed against the window, Eddie gives Richie both fingers as the bus pulls away. Eddie tried to scowl as well, but he can’t help smiling at his dumbass boyfriend’s affection.

(Meanwhile, Ben is furiously texting Bev to come and save him)

[jonnnysuh]

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad.  Fall was fast approaching, without much warning.  The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day.  Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of  Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room.  Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless. 

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge  to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to  kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at.  You blinked slowly at the brown haired man.  “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him?  you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.”  Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin.  Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky.  You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid.  Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder  coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class  they already had their groups.”  you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled  away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew. 

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t  prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.

[sparrowsfall]

VISUAL → pruitt’s personal journal & sketchbook ( sept. 1957 — current day ).

a labor of love. the 5 inch by 8 1/4 inch book has been carefully taken apart and rebound over the years. purchased as a thin moleskin while he was in undergrad at Columbia , John was never able to part with the little book once it was full in ‘59, and so he elected to keep stitching in pages, in addition to the original 75 leaves of mixed media paper --- these “pages” are made from pieces of watercolor pads, canvas, totes, parchments, cloths from old hand towels, envelopes, mainland train tickets, event flyers, folded paper maps, even some napkins and post-its. of course as the journal grew thicker, it ultimately had to be re-bound over the many decades of its life. the various skins were reconstructed out of leather scrap material over the years, sourced from old shoes, belts, bags, and even one very old extra pitcher’s glove.

the first decade’s worth of entries reveal its original purpose as a mission travel journal, scrap material pages organized by makeshift tabs with the country and year. ripe with stamps, hand-drawn city maps, mini gouache studies of regional landscapes, and architecture sketches abound. paragraphs upon paragraphs of writing are squeezed between his artwork and little stiched-or-taped-in collections ( all of them reflecting his rudimentary practice in local languages - plenty of Spanish and Portuguese to be found ). 

1970 brings his graduation from divinity school, his completion of his deaconship, and a change of pace on Crockett Island. all mirrored in the book. there is the occasional onslaught of travel collages when diocese-sponsored pilgrimages bring him around the world. but they are farther and fewer now, hidden between detailed studies of local seascapes and birds. of people he sees on the island. on the wharf. fellow travelers on the ferries. mainland locals. his love. summaries of the day’s events made in poor foreign grammar are swapped, instead, for more poetic personal reflections in his usual english. sometimes even his italian mother tongue, just to stay in practice. he makes a point to fit as much content on one page as possible without bleed-through, but every blue moon he dares to dedicate one page or two to a full painting, maybe even an ink illustration. allows his imagination to run a little wild, focusing only on whatever his mind can conjure and vividly express on the page. 

ever since moving to Crockett, where the water surrounds him for miles and the starry nights are so crisp and clear, he finds his imagination bursting to its brim with a mix of sea life and constellations. 

( image credit : 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. )  

[agentmonet1]

@yeehawwrites​

location: an ancestral home forty minutes from New York City

Within the Pantheon, there are missions and their are classified assignments. Ones put under such a tight lock and key, that not even Hercules’ are clued in on the sensitive mission. In her six years as an Apollo, this would only be the third assignment of this nature. But the weight of the envelope, combined with the Hestia’s stoic eye, says all it needs to. It’s the first, true lead to the brains behind the attack on Peru. A man linked to the darkest, most depraved depths of criminal activity - Edward Cordero Junior is as lethal as he is key to unraveling the mystery itself. The Hestia’s pose it as more than an architectural retrieval. It could mean the difference between the agency’s safety, or its extinction. Within the days of their return from the Swiss Alps, she receives her assignment; go undercover, beguile the known womanizer, and entrench herself into the Italian mafia’s ranks. The span of the mission, obscured somewhere between a few weeks to a few months.

Like any good Apollo, she does as she’s told. Jack is abandoned for Jackie, a French “super model” with a proclivity for heavy cologne and guns. The beautiful, respectful, and alluring sort of femme fatale that is just a touch outside of her usual guises. But she pulls it off, despite Edward’s temperament. It manages to go well, at first. They grow closer, with Jack toted on his arm like an accessory. And though she is subtle, his paranoia grows - as well as his temper. Their relationship grows more tenuous, as they exchange blows and bruises begin to litter her arms. If not for the mission, Jack would make her escape. She knows the way out, of course. But the window of opportunity closes, once Edward starts digging around her past. Fortunately, she has time to send a single message from her cell phone (now only at 20%) - sos. le combat de nos vies. stapleton house, nyc. asap. She sends it to West, the only person she can imagine breaking rules and protocol. The Hestia’s were clear - either Jack collects the intel, or she’s collateral to the bigger mission. But what is she, if not just a bit self-serving?

There’s an obscure party in full swing, in the dated house outside of New York. Except this time, it’s only a slew of Edward’s capos and hired lovers for the evening. In the privacy of the master bedroom, she earns her “boyfriend’s” cruel tirade. “You fucking slut.” Edward yells, obscured through the loud noise. “What the fuck are you hiding?” His hand is tight around her arm, fingers digging into the skin. There have been many close calls, and a handful of dead bodies left in her wake. But never has she imagined it would be her, to be on the brink of certain death. “Answer me,” he insists, hand now clasped around her neck. “It’s just me, Eddie.” Jack attempts to coo, but there is alcohol on his breathe and rage in his eyes. Amidst the noise of the party, and the distraction of Edward’s friends, she sees West from the small gap between the door and its hinge. She remains steady, allowing Edward to slowly unclasp her neck and throw her back onto the bed. He turns his heel, making a beeline for the door, ready to join his friends - and lock her in the room, in the process.

[saltyground]

**SOME MARTIN DETAILS**

‘Sentimentality, as you'd suspect of someone who's sense of humor stretches to thoughts of inflicting one of the Dead Kennedys' more rabid punk efforts on the desert people, is not one of Rotsey's strong points.

He once sold all of his records and claims not to have missed or replaced any of them.

Talking about himself, he says, makes him feel "like a right Wally," a term that betrays his English upbringing. The son of a metallurgist father and a pharmacist mother, he was brought to Australia when he was 7. At the age of 12, he got his first acoustic guitar. A year later, he got an electric guitar and spend his weekends rehearsing in a garage with schoolfriends in Sydney's southern beachside suburbs. When his parent's went to Japan, he was given a "two year sentence" as a boarder at Sydney Grammar. There he joined a boarding band called Ganja and met Rob Hirst who was playing with Jim Moginie in Schwampy Moose.

After leaving school, Rotsey lived in Paddington, rehearsed with a band that included Jonathan Coleman, dropped out of an Arts course at Sydney University and went to work at the Bulletin as a copy boy before joining the advertising department. Returning to university, to do architecture, he met up with Rob Hirst again at the drummer's 21st and joined the fledgling Midnight Oil soon afterwards.

Very early on, Rotsey perfected the classic guitarist as machine-gun-toting-guerilla stance, cigarette smouldering from his lip, shoulders hunched, legs in a crouch as though poised to run a 100-meter dash, trigger hand chopping away at the strings as he surveyed the audience.

Like the band's other guitarist, Jim Moginie, Martin's fought to retain his anonymity within the Oils, studiously avoiding interviews and the pressures of public recognition.’

[thnxforknowingme]

In Orbit (21/?)

Pairing: Klaine

Rating: T

Fic Summary: Blaine starts attending NYU, and he and Kurt weave in and out of each other’s lives - as friends, exes, friends with benefits, and harder-to-define labels - while they navigate college, relationships, and adulthood in New York.

Notes: I don't title my chapters but if I did, this one would be called "Blaine Alone."

Read on AO3 | All chapters

March 2015

It was an overcast day, but even in the gray, washed-out light of a cloudy sky, Paris was a beautiful city.

Blaine had woken up earlier than his traveling companions, which didn’t surprise him - he was generally an early-riser, and he’d stayed mostly sober last night while his friends got drunk on pricey aperitifs, and then cheap wine.

He’d texted his still-sleeping companions in their WhatsApp group chat to say he was going out, and then headed out from the hostel. They were staying north of the city center, and he could have taken the metro to his destination, but he decided to walk. He’d seen the insides of trains plenty of times, after all, and he only had a couple days to see Paris.

It was spring break, so Blaine had joined four of his classmates from NYU Florence to take a Eurail trip for the week. They’d spent two nights in Geneva, then moved on to Paris. After this, they’d go to Barcelona before returning to Italy.

The trip had been fun so far - Blaine enjoyed seeing new places, hearing new languages spoken around him, being mildly baffled by his surroundings and then slowly growing used to them, even over the course of just a few days. He was very inclined to go to museums, see the art and architecture of each city, and visit cultural sights. He could tell his classmates were less enthusiastic about this - while they happily checked off the big must-sees in each city, it seemed more perfunctory for them. When they’d visited the Louvre the previous day, Blaine had gone off on his own, so he could dawdle as much as he wanted, taking his time to admire different paintings and statues and rooms. His friends had ended up texting him that they were ready to go, and he’d insisted they leave without him so he could spend another hour or two. He knew he couldn’t see everything the massive museum had to offer, but he couldn’t bear to leave so quickly - who knew when he’d get another chance to be in Paris? He’d ended up meeting back up with them at a cafe a couple hours later.

Now, Blaine reached his goal for the morning: Shakespeare and Company, an independent English-language bookstore just across the river from Notre Dame. As soon as Blaine had mentioned to Effie that he’d be in Paris over spring break, she’d told him about this bookstore. It had apparently been a literary hub for the city for the past half-century, and Effie had gushed about all the famous authors who’d visited there. Blaine didn’t know all that much about literature, but looking back he was amused by how long it had taken him to figure out Effie was studying English, considering how much she geeked out about this kind of thing.

Blaine entered the bookshop, and was immediately charmed by the crowded shelves and haphazard aisles, the painted walls and stairs. It was oddly surprising to be entirely surrounded by English writing - for several months now, he’d had to actively think in order to read the words on signs or texts around him, but now the title of each book and label of each section of the store was understood immediately, automatically.

He ended up buying a tote bag and a collection of Adrienne Rich poems for Effie - he remembered her talking about Rich in the past, so it seemed like a good choice.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast, so Blaine wandered around the Latin Quarter until he found a creperie. Sitting at a wicker table outside a restaurant in Paris gave him the surreal feeling that this couldn’t truly be his life, that he must be in a dream or a movie or something. He’d had this feeling before - being on stage at Nationals, moving to New York, interning at the Mercury Lounge - but especially since coming to Europe, he’d been hit with it a lot more often.

Even though Blaine understood all the steps he’d taken to arrive at this moment in his life, it still didn’t quite feel right that he could actually be experiencing it.

He’d been enjoying his time in Florence, and moments like this made studying abroad unquestionably worth it, but he also couldn’t deny the hollow pit of...something that had taken up residence in his stomach ever since he’d crossed the Atlantic. Homesickness, maybe. The feeling of being truly and entirely out of his element. Florence was an incredibly gorgeous city, and Blaine loved feeling like he was surrounded by history and art at every turn. Florence was truly ancient in a way that no place in America had ever felt to him. There were memories and impressions of the past baked into the cobblestones, permeating the air. Then there was the food - the pasta, the wine, the espresso, tastes that were rich and deep and decadent. Over time, he became more familiar with the city, and he grew calmer each time he recognized a street or returned to a bar he’d been to before.

He was enjoying his classes for the most part, but his intensive Italian course was starting to take a toll on him. Blaine was used to excelling in academics - he put in the work, he studied meticulously, and he reached understanding. No subject had ever eluded him once he put his mind to it. But lately he’d been hitting a wall with Italian. He could study vocabulary and do the assignments and take thorough notes in class each day, but he still struggled. He wanted simply to understand, for the language to become natural and fluid, an extension of his own thoughts. Instead, each conversation with a native speaker was a battle, an internal labor to pull together the right words in the right order, to conjugate verbs into tenses that had meanings and moods with no direct correlation to English. He felt like he’d learned just enough to understand how very much he didn’t know, how vast and untamable a language really was, how impossible it was for him to ever genuinely understand it.

While his frustration with Italian gnawed at him, he knew the more prevalent cause of the pit in his stomach was loneliness. Blaine was friendly and personable - when he’d transferred to Dalton and had the chance at a fresh start, he’d learned to put himself out there, to be charming and confident, to introduce himself and quickly make connections with the people around him. And he’d succeeded at doing that in Italy - the NYU Florence program was pretty small, and he could recognize nearly every student, knew the names of each of his classmates, and could easily make small talk with a large percentage of them. He’d found a few people that he hung out with on a regular basis - going out for dinner or watching soccer games at bars. But even among them, he didn’t feel that he could truly be himself. They were nice enough people, but he didn’t fully click with them, like he did with Effie or Sho, with Sam or Tina. They didn’t have quite enough interests or passions or personality traits in common. He always felt like he was sort of on the outskirts of their interactions, always putting on a smile but never feeling that he would really be missed if he wasn’t around.

And then, of course, there was Ethan. Or, the lack of Ethan, the aftermath of Ethan. Blaine hadn’t intentionally planned to run away to Europe after breaking up with his boyfriend, but it did provide a nice bit of space. If he’d still been in New York, he likely would have had a music class or two with Ethan. In Italy, at least, he had absolutely no chance of bumping into his ex-boyfriend in an academic building or dining hall. He still hurt, though. Even though he’d been the one to end things, and he’d known it was unquestionably the right thing to do, he missed Ethan. Or at least, he missed what they’d had, when things were good between them. He missed the good morning texts and talking about their days over dinner; watching movies cuddled up on one of their beds, walking to the East Village to get bagels on Saturday mornings. He missed Ethan’s calming presence and the solid, comforting feeling of his arms holding Blaine tight. He missed the way he was always adjusting his beanie and the sharp-edged doodles in the margins of all of his class notes. He missed having a boyfriend. He missed being loved, in that particular way.

Blaine’s phone buzzed, and he took a deep breath of Parisian air, trying to ground himself. He was a young college student traipsing around Europe - he should be happy, excited. He pulled out his phone and saw that there was a new WhatsApp message from one of the friends he was traveling with.

We just got up, it read. Gonna grab breakfast and then head to catacombs, meet you there? Probably like 40 mins

Blaine swallowed the last bite of his crepe and then typed out a reply. Sounds good, see you there!

[rosykims]

matches and powder barrels.

mind blind — ambrose kim x f!button (gracie wiseman) | rated general | 1856 words | hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, post canon, established relationship | cw for death mentions and food.

Ambrose spots her first, though it's due more to the moonlight glinting off of her wristwatch than any real testament to his sharp eye. Her silhouette blends and blurs, barely more than an out-of-place shadow at the end of a darkened hall. But he's her husband, so of course he could pick out her figure anywhere. That familiar posture, that cadence, that slender wrist reaching out to unlock their apartment door and slip inside. Careful as a thief, quiet as a ghost.

Lateness notwithstanding, it's hardly the first time they've come home to each other like this. Doubtless it won't be the last. More often than not their work remains disconnected these days, their roles and itineraries running on two parallel lines which rarely intersect outside of a signature on a mission report or a fond smile in the break room. Tonight's little coincidence would be laughable if it weren't so frustrating; to think, both of them working so late into the night, confined to separate offices and floors but together under the same cold Aeon architecture. Stressed, isolated, and totally unbeknownst to one another.

He should have checked her office before he'd left. Or earlier, hours ago now, when he'd first resigned to text her Something's come up. Late home. Don't wait up. He definitely shouldn't have turned his phone off. Shouldn't have let her walk home alone in the cold.

"Ambrose?"

He gives her sixty seconds to peel out of her coat and shoes, to set her bag down on the kitchen counter before he unlocks the door for himself, stepping through the threshold into a cold and unlit home.

"I'm here."

From another room she gasps, startled despite his efforts to the contrary. Ambrose follows the noise, passing out of the hall and into the kitchen, where his exhausted wife's face is lit up by the cold light of an open refrigerator.

She blinks slowly at his arrival, speechless as he sets his briefcase down on the marble countertop next to her tote bag. Her expression is, as always, carefully neutral, but her eyes — bloodshot, glassy, weighed down by half circles almost as dark as their current surroundings — remain her biggest tell.

Of course, she'd surely say the same thing about his eyes if she could see them clearly in the dark. Though unspoken, there's a grim and mutual understanding between them as they regard one another in the dimness. It's better the lights stay off tonight.

continue reading on ao3.

[unbridgeabledistances]

here is a part 2 of my valentine’s day one-shot from the other day!! part 3 of them actually celebrating is coming fri, but wanted to make it a lil countdown:) also big creds to @udontfuckangie for their post about ian getting mickey stargazer lilies for valentines bc it… truly made me feel so many things and i had to write this

--

Ian didn’t really remember ever celebrating Valentine’s Day for real— not like everyone else in middle school or high school, like when Lip was off buying flowers for girls or Mandy was trying to get the guy she liked to ask her out— but he definitely remembered celebrating it as a kid, when he’d have to scrounge up some shoebox from under his bed and bring it to his overcrowded classroom to cover with colorful construction paper and make shitty valentines to swap with his friends. Those were the days when Frank was around some, and so was Monica— he remembered one year, when he was maybe 5 or 6, when Monica was there and he had come home with a thin pink slip of paper from his teacher saying that he needed to bring in valentines for his class. Monica had whisked him down the street to the dollar store where they’d ransacked the rickety shelves of all the art supplies they could carry, and then they sat at the kitchen table for hours gluing glitter to cut-out hearts.

So maybe that’s why Ian’s heart had melted last Sunday, when Franny had mentioned that she needed to buy valentines for her class at school— Ian knew it was stupid, or whatever, but he knew how far a few solid childhood memories could go in this neighborhood, how those types of moments were the stuff you lived on for years afterwards when things got harder and darker. So while he’d been caught up in so much shit lately, for a couple of hours on that Sunday afternoon all Ian wanted was for Franny to soak up that feeling like a sponge—to make memories with her like the good ones that he’d had with Monica, the ones that stood out and burned in his chest like a hot branding iron when he remembered them.

And then a yawning, sleep-soft Mickey had stumbled into the kitchen, and the three of them were nestled beside each other at the table doing fucking arts and crafts; and for some reason it made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and got him thinking about how fuck it, he wanted to give Mickey a Valentine’s Day this year— not in the weird, heteronormative bullshit way, but in the way that he could just kind of… show Mickey how much he meant to him, how Mickey still made his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his ribcage even after the years they’d been together. This was the longest time that he and Mickey had ever been together consecutively, the longest time they’d slept side by side before something dark curled its fingers around them and pulled them apart, and he wanted to do something to acknowledge that— something to start their forever, as fucking cheesy as that sounded.

Of course, Mickey had no concept of Valentine’s Day or any of that shit, which made the whole thing all the more perfect— Ian wanted to catch him off guard, wanted to pull them both out of the funk that had been hovering over them for the months after the wedding, when everything turned brittle and stale once the bills started to pile up. They were better now—or at least they were trying to be— but it still meant something that half of their time being married had been spent navigating a fucking global pandemic and squabbling with each other and barely making ends meet.

So now it was the day before Valentine’s Day, and Ian was standing on a busy Chicago street corner in the bitter cold, watching the bundled passersby briskly walk by to scramble inside and stave off the chill. Ian hadn’t been to this neighborhood since his days working at the club, or maybe once or twice when he was hanging out with people from the youth center; the pristine glass storefronts with minimalist displays nearly blinded Ian’s eyes after the past ten months of being accustomed to the crumbling paint-chipped architecture of the South Side. But he was here on a mission; in front of him stood the high-end, boujee as fuck florist’s shop, one of the top-rated ones in the city according to the quick search he’d plugged into his phone.

Ian normally didn’t give a shit about stuff like this— to him, a flower was a flower, and a chair for a wedding was just a goddamn chair— but he knew Mickey, for some reason this sappy shit was a whole lot more important to him, no matter how hard Mickey tried to hide it. All the symbols and the fanfare meant something to Mickey—it meant that they’d made it, that they got to have a normal fucking life together, beyond both of their wildest dreams. So if Ian had to brave a stupid, gentrifying flower shop on a chilly Friday afternoon to make Mickey happy, then that was what he was going to do.

A soft bell tinkled as Ian entered the shop, immediately surrounded by the nearly-bare shelves of minimalist bouquets. The store was incredibly cramped and narrow, with overly-peppy music playing low, and was packed tight with wire-rimmed glasses wearing, re-usable bag toting hipsters standing in a line all the way to the counter. Shit. This line was going to take all day—and who the fuck knew if they even had what Ian was looking for? A looming pang of desperation started to churn in the pit of his stomach as he lurked by the doorway. Fuck it, he had to do this.

Before Ian really processed what he was doing he was quickly darting past the line, getting a series of dirty looks from everyone he shuffled by.

“S’cuse me, coming through, floral emergency.”

Finally, he reached the counter, sliding in beside some girl in her mid-twenties with a punk haircut. “Uh, sorry, can I just ask if they have what I’m looking for real quick?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If you’re desperate enough to cut the fucking line, I’d say you’re worse off than I am. Men are fucking clueless.”

Ian nearly grimaced, but tried to twist his face into a soft, grateful smile. “Thank you.” He turned to the cashier at the counter, a dude with a man bun and a floral button-up shirt who looked pretty amused by this whole situation.

“It’s the day before Valentine’s Day, honey. Everyone here is in a floral emergency.” The cashier sighed, looking Ian up and down appraisingly. “What’re you looking for?”

“Uh. I think they’re called… stargazer lilies? The ones that bloom at a specific time, or something? We were supposed to have them at my wedding, but then the venue got burnt down by my husband’s homophobic father, so we kind of had to pull the whole wedding thing together on short notice— it’s kind of a long story, but I really, really need to get these flowers for Valentine’s Day.” Ian leaned in close over the counter, hoping he didn’t look too desperate. “It’s our first one together and it’s been a fucking shitty year and it would just— it would mean a lot.”

Ian finally exhaled, and hoped by some miracle that this cashier, or someone in the fucking universe, would take pity on him.

The cashier pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose, tapping away at the iPad on the counter before glancing up. “Hmm. I’m sorry honey, you’re fresh out of luck. Those lilies bloom in the summer mostly, and no one around here really has them. You could maybe check one of the little flower shops down the street, they do special orders and stuff this time of year—but I’ll be honest, I don’t know if you’re gonna get these flowers by tomorrow.”

Ian felt disappointment bubble up inside him. Of fucking course there were none of these obscure flowers in Chicago the day before Valentine’s Day— he’d had this grand idea of giving Mickey a perfect Valentine’s Day, of starting off on the right foot, and he still put this shit off until the last minute and couldn’t give Mickey what he deserved. Mickey would’ve never made this mistake.

Ian cleared his throat. “Shit. Well, uh, thanks anyways.”

He turned, heading for the door and getting ready to be assaulted by the bitter cold again. Okay, there were a couple flower marts down the street, he could try that— but he had a sinking feeling that the results would be the same, that he’d be left empty-handed tomorrow with nothing to give.

Okay. Focus. I’ve gotta plan a bunch of shit for Valentine’s Day by tomorrow.

What would Mickey do?

**

The flat drone of the dial tone made Mickey’s head buzz, the same dull vibration he’d heard dozens of times that week. Finally, he heard the click of someone answering.

“Hello, this is Sizzlers, how may I help you?”

“Hi, it’s, uh, it’s Mickey Milkovich. Again. I’m just checking in one more time to make sure we’re all good for tomorrow?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, like the hostess was taking a moment to compose herself. “Yes, Mr. Milkovich. Since this is the… seventh time you’ve checked in in the past week, I believe, everything has definitely been arranged as you requested.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “Uh, good. Thanks. We’ll be there for our reservation at 8.”

He clicked his phone off and flung it down onto the bed. It had been nearly a week since he’d decided he was going to try to give Ian some kind of Valentine’s Day like the normal fucking couple Ian wanted to be, but he had to admit, this shit was hard work; he had to think of the perfect place he wanted them to go, had to call and make a reservation and arrange everything perfectly— and then there was the matter of deciding what to get Ian, because apparently married people also got each other fucking gifts on Valentine’s Day, which sounded like overkill to him. He’d been scrolling through Buzzfeed “Valentine’s Day Gift” lists for the better part of the afternoon, and even snuck some of Debbie’s chick magazines into the bathroom to sift through articles like “Ten Things to Get Your Man for Valentine’s Day” or “Best V-Day Gifts for Newlyweds.” Finally, after fucking days of plans stirring in the back of his mind, Mickey finally thought he had all of the pieces together; the reservation was made, the timing was set, and he’d even stopped by some fancy fucking chocolate shop on the other side of town on the way home from the Alibi earlier that afternoon.

Everything was planned—now there was just one thing left to do.

Mickey grabbed the crumpled piece of paper he’d set on the bedside table, the one he’d been staring at all week. Fuck it. He grabbed a discarded pen from the windowsill, from the collection of pencils that Ian kept next to his notebooks.

Mickey sighed as he put the pen to the paper. Now comes the hard part.

part 1 is here! and part 3 is here!

[lovequartz]

gardenias & bloodroot

₊˚. pairing: sailor!vernon x fairy!reader

₊˚. genre: fairy + post-dystopia au, fluff, angst

₊˚. warnings: self-mutulation, brief mentions of violence

₊˚. word count: 3.7k+

₊˚. we are both salt water mixed with air 

₊˚. notes: im so very excited to be posting here and i hope you all enjoy this little word souffle my tinie brain whipped up

The first time Chwe Hansol lays eyes on you he’s staring more so at the peach in your hand than your face. He’d agreed to watch over Joshua’s peach stall while the latter ran off to run an errand. “I’ll be back soon, it’ll be like I never even left.” His friend promised him with that signature Joshua Hong twinkle in his eye. Vernon didn’t believe him, of course, he knew Joshua. He had zoned out and now realized that you were here to buy peaches, obviously. 

“Joshua isn’t here today?” Your voice is warm, like honey on just toasted bread. It takes him a moment to register your question and the tip of his ears burns as he gives you a delayed answer. “Joshua went to run an errand, he’ll be back soon if you want to wait for him?” You give him a sweet smile. “I see,” you set down the peach in your hand, “and..you are?” Vernon wipes his palms against the denim of his jeans, and offers his hand to you. “Vernon, friend of Joshua.” You let out a small laugh as you take his larger hand in your smaller one, shaking it. “It’s very nice to meet you Vernon, friend of Joshua.” Your eyes are teasing. 

He moves to take his hand out of yours but instead you turn it over, now both your hands are holding his one. You brush your thumb across his palm and suddenly he feels heat rush to his face. He’s not sure why but he feels as though he should be embarrassed. “What do you do for work? Farming like Joshua?” Your eyes leave his hand and meet his as you finish your question. “No,” Vernon pauses to center his thoughts, “I work on a ship. I’m a sailor.” You nod, seemingly happy to have your answer. You release his hand and put yours in the pockets of your dress. “You have a working man’s hands, I should’ve guessed sailor.” He opens his mouth to reply but Joshua appears behind you. 

The peach farmer pats your shoulders and you turn to give him a grin. “Good afternoon favorite customer.” He says cheerily, releasing you to stand behind his fruits with Vernon. “Hello Joshua,” you reply, “I think playing hooky is frowned upon in the business world.” Joshua rolls his eyes playfully and reaches down to grab something from behind the stall. He presents you with a bag. “5 of my best just for you.” You take the bag from him and open it to take a peek. They’re perfectly round and that beautiful red-yellow, just about ripe. “You spoil me.” 

You set the bag of peaches down to reach into the tote hanging on your shoulder, pulling out the amount you owe and a little bit extra. You’ve worn Joshua down into accepting the few more bills you always give him a long time ago and he knows not to argue with you. “Well I’ll be going then, can’t be taking up too much of your time.” You say as you tuck the peaches into your tote and slip it back on your shoulder. Your eyes flit to Vernon, who’s been silently watching your exchange with his friend. “It was very nice to meet you, again. Take care.” The sweet smile returns for a moment before you turn to walk away, disappearing into the crowd. 

“You don’t usually chat up people like that.” The twinkle is back in the older man’s eyes and Vernon can’t help but roll his. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I”m serious! I saw the hand-holding Mr. Chwe.” “It wasn’t hand-holding.” Vernon replies, bumping Joshua’s shoulder with his own. “Well whatever it was it seemed pretty intimate to me.” The coy look on the strawberry blonde’s face is nothing short of irritating but Vernon just sighs and pulls the apron he’s wearing off. “Goodbye Joshua.” 

The next time Vernon sees you is on the docks, his ship just coming in from a long morning but a successful catch. Once they anchor and he ties the ship up the rest of the crew unloads, taking the morning’s haul to the market. “Good work today gentlemen.” The booming voice of his captain, Choi Seungcheol, exclaims. “Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon, you’re free to go. Rest up, I’ll see you three next week.” The men exchange farewells, and as he turns to make his way back into town he sees you. You’re crouched enticing one of the dock kittens to play by waving your shoelaces at it, the small animal pounces back and forth trying to swat at them. Your tinkling laughter and the joy in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings. 

“What brings you here?” He manages to walk up to you without startling you or the kitten playing at your feet. Your eyes snap up to meet his, and a smile blooms on your face at the sight of him, he wants to live in that smile he thinks. “Hello yourself sailor Vernon.” You reply, patting the kitten on its small head before standing. “Spying on me now, are you?” He teases, taking in you in your striped shirt and patterned socks that aren’t quite a pair. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you tease him right back, and he grins. “Actually, I was harvesting,” you continue, motioning to the purple flowers sticking out of your ever present tote, “but my curiosity got the best of me so here I am.” 

“Are you a florist?” Vernon asks, trying to match the flowers you’re carrying to a name. You shake your head, “I wish. I’m an herbalist, nothing as elegant as a florist.” He nods, “Well what did you manage to pick today? I don’t think I know what plant that is.” You pluck one of them out of your bag and lay it flat in your palms. “It’s sea lavender, I’m using it to treat this little girl. She gets terrible mouth ulcers, and I can’t get this where I live so I have to come down here.” Vernon drinks your words up like a man thirsty, he might truly be enamored with you. 

At some point in your conversation the two of you take a seat on the docks, kicking your feet above the surface water below. Vernon tells you about his ship crew, his captain Seungcheol is a fierce and compassionate leader. Second mate Wonwoo, a navigational specialist, can direct the correct path even in the most ruthless of sea storms. Mingyu, who can cook a mean meal, oversees the ship’s supplies and maintenance. 

“I think you’ve talked about just everyone on your crew except yourself. What’s your specialty, sailor Vernon?” Your eyes twinkle, and his ears redden at the nickname. “I wouldn’t say I have a specialty, but I’m in charge of the ropes and sails.” He says, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. You listen intently as Vernon explains the details of his role, and he itches to hold your face in his hands. 

“I should probably get going.” You sigh as you glance at the sun and how far it has sunken in the sky. “Me too.” Vernon agrees, standing and holds his hands out for you to take. Your fingers wrap around his as he gently pulls you to your feet. Smiling, you give his hands a thankful squeeze before releasing them. “I-I could walk you home? If you want me to, that is.” His sincerity is enough to make you swoon. “Well, I don’t know if Joshua told you, but I actually live in the next town over. You can walk me to the trolley though, if you don’t mind.” Vernon nods eagerly at your suggestion which pulls a giggle out of you. He really was too cute for his own good. 

The trolley hasn’t left yet, thankfully. It seems you and Vernon had arrived just on time. “This is me,” You motion to the vehicle, “thanks for the wonderful conversation and everything that followed. You’re very kind, sailor Vernon.” He gives you a boyish grin. “You’re welcome. Stay safe on your way home.” 

There are dates with Vernon after that. He brings you to the ocean and splashes you with seawater, as if you’re two children without a care in the world. You take him to the forest, teaching him about plants and their healing abilities. There’s hand-holding and shy laughter. Cheek kisses and two people brimming with joy and fondness. 

“He has eyes like a doe, they’re so gentle and filled with kindness.” You practically coo to Jun, who merely listens as the two of you enjoy the sunlight on the stone steps of your small cottage home. “I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like this before.” Jun muses in response. You offer hima grinin response. “Vernon isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before.” The man next to you shrugs. “Will you tell him?” The question makes a shiver go down your spine and you look away. “I don’t know.” “Well if you do decide to, just,” Jun pauses, “be careful. There are still people out there who would pay a pretty penny for fairy wings.” 

Jun’s words throb inside your head hours after your conversation with him. He’s right, of course, there could be disastrous not to mention dangerous consequences to telling Vernon the truth about yourself. You have to see your mother. 

The museum of fairy wings is a peculiar building, white with gothic style architecture. It sits on a hill and overlooks the sea. You take a seat on one of the small benches scattered throughout the building, facing the wall in which the wings are displayed. Your eyes search before finding the pair of wings you’re looking for.

The wings encased are rounded at the tips, orange fades into yellow, top to bottom. Their translucent shine brightens under the fluorescents and gardenias surround them half-circled. The little plaque under the glass frame reads ‘Gardenia’ etched into bronze. The smaller text is a name, Hong Jiyu, the procurer. 

Hong Jiyu is Joshua’s paternal grandmother, the procurer of the fairy wings behind the glass, the wings that were once attached to a wife and a mother. Your mother. 

The first time you saw Joshua hate rushed through you so red-hot you thought your skin was burning. You watched him for days, wondering how you would hurt him. How you’d cause his family the same pain and suffering they’d caused you. But Joshua wasn’t his grandmother. 

He was softhearted and good-natured. A farmer with broad shoulders and strawberry blonde hair. He knows everything there is to know about peaches and children revel in his presence. He has a smile that makes the butterflies in your stomach frenzy. 

So you forgave. Your mother wasn’t coming back, and hurting Joshua wouldn’t change that. You went to his stall in the market one day and bought a peach, took it home and sliced it up. You ate it outside, in the grass of your yard and cried like the day you were born. You never stopped buying peaches from Joshua after that. 

Vernon didn’t know why you wanted to meet him inside the museum. He also didn’t expect it to be a place you frequented. The only experience he had with it really was when Joshua’s grandma would take them when they were little, showing them her 'trophies’. He shudders at the memory. 

You were seated, on a bench, staring at the green-yellow wings Joshua’s grandma loved to show off. Her favorite. 

Vernon quietly made his way behind you, careful not to alert you of his presence. Hands slide in front of your eyes effectively obscuring your vision, and your lips curl into a smile. "Well hello to you too.” You say, your fingers hooking around his to pull them from your face. “Hi.”

He takes the spot next to you, hand taking yours to link your fingers. “One of your regular haunts?” You let out a chuckle. “Something like that.” The two of you sit in comfortable silence and Vernon’s thumb traces the back of your hand. 

“Why are you really here?” If Vernon is one thing it is observant. You sigh before training your eyes on your mother’s wings. “Do you ever think about the people these wings were attached to?” You shift your gaze to his face. “Were they mothers? Daughters? Brothers? Uncles? Did they like to dance or sing? Maybe their favorite color was blue because it matched the ocean in their lover’s eyes?" 

Vernon’s free hand comes up to cup your cheek and you lean into his touch. "Are you okay?” He asks, voice soft. You shake your head slightly. “I think I need some air." 

The air outside is cool and crisp, and your lungs breath it in gratefully. Vernon’s thumb is still rubbing circles on the back of your hand, keeping you grounded. "I’m alright.” You assure him when you see the unsure glaze his hazel eyes carry. “I promise, I’m okay.” He nods, squeezing your hand gently. His other hand reaches into his front pocket, fingers grazing the worn photo tucked there. “I was gonna wait a bit to give this to you, but I’m going to sea tomorrow. There’s an area Seungcheol wants to explore and it’s quite aways away. We’ll probably be gone for 10 days or more. So, I wanted you to have this.” He pulls the photo out, and presents it to you. 

You release his hand to take the photograph from him, turning it over in your hands gingerly. The subject of the picture is Vernon himself, and it was probably taken a few years ago. He looks a little younger, but there’s that same boyish grin of his. His black hair is in his eyes and the ocean sparkles behind him. The back reads 'Yours, for better or for worse - Vernon Chwe’ And tears brim in your eyes. 

“Wouldn’t want you to forget my face while I’m away.” He says with a chuckle. You don’t respond and instead wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his neck. Vernon smiles as his arms encircle you, content to hold you. You pull away to look at him after a few moments, your eyes tracing his features. “As if I could ever forget a face like yours.” You say, holding his jaw in your hand, your thumb tracing it’s line. 

Vernon walks you down to the trolley, like he did all those weeks ago when the relationship between the two of you was just blooming.

“So I suppose I’ll see you when you get back, sailor Vernon.” You jest, your smile not really reaching your eyes. “You will.” He assures with a smile of his own. “Don’t go falling in love with any mermaids while you’re gone. They may be pretty at first glance, but they’re really quite ruthless.” Vernon laughs, and leans down to press a kiss against the smooth skin of your cheek. “I’ll try my very hardest.”

“We’re due west a little more.” Wonwoo says, staring at the pieces of parchment in his hands. He always hand drew his charts and maps, citing that they just helped him navigate better. Vernon complies with Wonwoo’s concern and shits the sails so the wind can catch them and steer the ship in the right direction. 

After a sufficient amount of sailing, six hours give or take, the crew was released. Dinner was still warm in his stomach while he got ready to sleep. Mingyu was brushing his teeth in the adjacent bathroom, the sound of the sink running filling the silence of the lower deck. Vernon is folding his pants when he finds it. Tucked in his back pocket is a photograph. At first he thinks you slipped the one he gave you back to him, not wanting to take it, but it’s you in the picture. Your pretty eyes and shy smile. On the back in crooked writing it says 'Keep this safe for me until you return’, a small heart is drawn just under the words. He imagines you drawing it, that sparkle in your eyes. 

Vernon has been gone for a few days, and you think now would be the perfect time. Jun usually helps you, but you’ve done it enough times alone as well. You shuffle through your kitchen, searching for one of your knives, the one with the knotted handle. Jun had sharpened it for you earlier that week, the sunlight filtering through your home makes the white blade gleam. Experience leads you quietly to the mirror hung on the wall of your living room. You had stuck the photo Vernon gave you between the frame and the glass, so you could see his grin before you left and when you arrived home. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now as you shed your shirt. There are short stubs protruding out of your back where you once had full-grown fluttering wings. They used to be such a vibrant red-violet, now the short pieces were a dull maroon, the life had drained from them a long time ago. Every time seems to hurt less than the last. You remember the first time you cut them yourself, before you had Jun’s help. The pain was so excruciating, you felt like some had twisted a blade into your heart. You cried yourself to sleep that night and didn’t move at all in the days following. Now you feel like you’d gotten used to the pain, what used to be unbearable now felt like a mildly uncomfortable pinch. 

Not many people knew that a fairy’s wings grew back, like the skin of a wound. You kill the fairy, you kill the wings. You and Jun, and all the other fairies you knew had been cutting your wings off as a protective measure ever since your mother had died. Having no wings seemed to be a fair trade for living in peace. 

The blade slides cleanly between your wing stump and the skin of your back, and you grimace at the feeling of the hot blood sliding down your skin. The pain was bearable though, and you moved on to the other one, giving it the same treatment. Your eyes meet the photo of Vernon once again, and as your blood drips down to the wooden floor you feel a sick sense of relief. 

Your sunkissed sailor returns even more sunkissed than the last time you saw him. You’re awaiting his arrival when his ship anchors and the crew files off, chatter and laughter filling the air as the men set foot on the docks. Vernon’s grin widens as he spots you, and you can’t help but give him one in return. It’s much too crowded to offer him the affection you want to, so instead you take his hand and follow the path into town.

Convincing Vernon to ride the trolley with you back to your cottage takes no effort at all, he even seems a bit excited to be invited. He tells you all about the places he’d seen on the expedition and the beautiful coves the crew got to swim in when they weren’t on the job. “Sounds like it was more of a vacation than a work trip.” You tease, a bit envious. “I think that might’ve been Seungcheol’s plan from the beginning.” 

Getting Vernon acquainted to your small home is ridiculously easy. It’s like he belonged there in your living area, sitting comfortably on the bronze corduroy chair as he sipped on some of the cold tea you’d brewed earlier. 

“What did you occupy yourself with while I was away. Can’t imagine you’d be sitting still for long.” His eyes are curious and you shrug. “Jun kept me company and of course Joshua & I had pleasant conversation whenever I would see him at the market. I mostly worked, it’s getting closer to autumn so I’ve had a lot of people to treat.” You muse as you tap your fingers against your chin. “I was surprised to find this as I was getting ready to sleep my first night on the ship.” He pulls out the picture of yourself you’d slipped into his pocket that day you’d said goodbye to him. Your face flushes with heat. “Well I see you’ve held onto it.” “Just like you’ve held onto mine.” He teases, pointing at his own picture tucked in your mirror. 

As the afternoon winds on the desire to tell Vernon your true nature gnaws at you. You call his name softly and suck in a breath when his eyes meet yours. “I have to tell you something.” He raises his brows and offers you a look you can’t quite decipher. “Okay.” You move to sit next to him and take his hands in yours. “You remember that day you met me at the museum? And I was sitting in front of those wings with the gardenias, the yellow green ones?” He nods in response to your questions, not wanting to interrupt. “Those wings,” you pause collecting yourself, “they belonged to someone I knew. Someone who took care of me and loved me, my mother.” Your voice is shaky as you finish and your admission feels like a punch to the gut. Suddenly Vernon is overcome with a feeling of dread. “You mean- All this time-” He struggles to make a complete sentence but after a bit of silence he finally says; “Joshua’s grandma did that to your mom?” There’s sadness and guilt swimming in his eyes, and you can barely bring yourself to speak so you just shake your head in confirmation, hot tears staining your cheeks.

“I had them too,” you rasp, “wings. But we couldn’t have them anymore because people like Joshua’s grandma still wanted them.” You stand, sliding your hands from his grasp, and turn your back to him. Slowly, surely, you slide your top over your head. Jun had healed your open wounds with the bit of healing magic he knew, so they were closed up. “So, we do this.” You can’t see Vernon, but you can imagine the disgust on his face. You tense when you feel his presence behind you, and shiver when he lays his head against your neck. “I’m sorry,” his voice is shaky, “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.” His fingers brush the scarred skin delicately. “I’ll protect you.” His voice is more sure now and he presses a soft kiss to your nape. “I promise I’ll protect you.”

₊˚. notes: thank you for making it here if you did! there was a lot of imagery in this as im working on my writing style and tweaking things here or there but if you enjoyed let me know and if you hated it also let me know !! my ask box is open

[cerberus253]

Demon Deep Dive (JCA)

Someone asked if I could do headcanons for the Eight Demon Sorcerers from Jackie Chan Adventures, so here it is, and more! Much more oh God...

Canon Stuff

All seven Demon Sorcerers HATE Shendu for his conniving nature and deceptive past towards/with them (Drago just hates him because father issues)

The Demon Sorcerers do not need external objects to perform spells, for it simply comes from their physical being

They are all old fucks

There are plenty more demon sorcerers, but these eight/nine are all those that were ever mentioned

All want to rule the world

Everyone, aside from Shendu, actually somewhat care about each other and agree to rule the world together. Why is that even though they shouldn’t have “social urges“ because of their biology? We’ll discuss that later

Looking back on the very first episode they were all in together, they are fucking in sync as all Hell! They were finishing each others’ sentences, they knew what each one was thinking. Damn, son, they be tight AF; family goals, amiright?

How to start a Demon Sorcerer meeting: Step 1) Find Po Kong, Step 2) Call everyone else over because it would take too long moving her at all

About the individual demons themselves (Most of this is reworded from the Wiki, but confirmed through watching their episodes):

Hsi Wu

Guerilla tactics for the win

Oddly patient, ya know, for someone so kind of childish

Becomes bored easily, so he has the knack to pick on his siblings and humans, with the latter being in more vicious and cruel ways

Aside from Shendu, Hsi Wu is the most bullied by his siblings (it’s because he’s small, isn’t it??)

Although he hates Shendu like the rest of his siblings, he is more “cold and apathetic“ towards him, with occasionally getting along, albeit extremely slight

High pitched noises hurts his ears

“His wings are sharp enough to cut through concrete“

Playful, although in a sadistic way

Simply flies to get where he needs to be

Likes to pester and make fun of Po Kong specifically

He just. Constantly smiles or has this big wide, toothy grin on his face all the time

*gremlin noises* *cat hisses*

Best/Worst Actor Award goes to...

Tso Lan

Sophisticated and more-or-less monotone sounding, he is always on alert with his senses. Despite this, his reaction timing is awful

Seemingly emotionless, his relaxed demeanor breaks when something doesn’t go his way. He does display some sarcasm, though

According to the wiki, he is very hard to please and never compliments anyone. What a stuck-up asshole

Along with Bai Tza and Xiao Fung, he is one of the more authoritative demon figures of the family

He apparently is one of the elder siblings

He is one of the most powerful sibling because he can bring the fucking Moon out of fucking orbit like it is nothing

He is Shantae He can control his hair, as well as float and glide gracefully

He can survive in space

He does indeed have legs, for he has been seen walking ONCE and we get to see his boots (Demon World (Part 2))

Shendu (My apologies, but not my regret, about if you are upset with me and my loathing for Shendu)

Selfish asshole who doesn’t like sharing, even with his family

Everybody Hates Shendu and Shendu Hates Everybody, and they all want each other dead, including Drago

Legit, he made a truce with Uncle, the mortal enemy, so he could horribly punish Drago. What a good father, amiright???

Can hold a grudge for, like, ever and hardly ever keep his promises. He also willingly admits he’s a traitorous bastard

Greedy and sophisticated asshole

Like, Jesus Christ, I wanted to give Shendu some slack because I did not want myself to be blinded by hatred for the guy, but my God is he the worst

“Shendu is not only devoid of compassion and sympathy for mortals, but also cares little to nothing for his family-members - this is displayed most markedly by how he left his siblings to rot in the Netherworld so he could rule the Earth himself.“

“Father and son's relationship was so toxic that Shendu even declared when Drago was being sucked into an interdimensional rift that his son deserved no less than to be trapped on the other side for his disloyalty.“

“Despite this, in response to Drago's apology and profuse pleading, Shendu visibly contemplated for a moment and hesitantly decided to try saving Drago from his fate (with a warning that his son must remember he is second to Shendu while they're on Earth), suggesting Shendu might genuinely care about his son to some extent (or at the very least, as close to caring about another being as Shendu is capable of).“ Um, not sure if I agree on the “genuinely care“ part, but totes on board with the “just wants him for a playing chip“ thought

Although he may be one of the most powerful demons of the family, that does not stop his siblings from actively going against him, which surprisingly makes Shendu submissive to them. Hmm...

He legit cares about no one but himself and that is no overstatement. I’m sorry to all those fangirls out there :V

Once ruled all of China

Shendu gets all whiny and high pitched, often stuttering, when expressing fear (which is every single time he gets a family reunion, which reminds me...)

He can be such a cheeky charmer

Although Shendu only cares about himself, he does seem pretty observant with recognizing what others do want, and of course uses that to his advantage. Hm, observant guy; no wonder he has fangirls

Tchang Zu

Not that talkative, even during fights, and rather only speaks when he feels the need to. However, when he does speak, it is rather loud and/or commanding

Hates when he isn’t respected, especially out of fear. He hates it so much he verbally explodes with anger when something personal to him is disrespected

Is willing to get down and dirty when reaching his (and his siblings’) goals

Is most likely the most colorful with his wording and admiring architecture

Really only attacks those he deems worthy (apparently there was a crowd of humans he only bothered scaring away and not attacking, even though they only saw him as entertainment?)

Become Goku Flies on a cloud to get where he needs to be

Oh my God he sits criss-cross-applesauce

Dai Gui

A little under average intelligence, but his brutality and strength make up for it, being an absolute bulldozer with anything that stands in his way

I must reinforce the “a little under average“ part because he does use the word “ludicrous,“ which is no caveman word

Violent and macabre imagery is his verbal forte

A big bully, since he loves throwing his authority around to those under him

Similar to Tchang Zu, Dai Gui is also willing to do dirty work, but mainly for himself than for others

Absolutely LOATHES “pretty“ things, like flowers

Sometimes talks in third person

Seems to prefer using his raw strength than his magical powers

Laughs at his own jokes

Persistent and dedicated. Nice!

Po Kong

Hungry Hungry Hippo; food is always on the mind, I wouldn’t be surprised if her want to rule the world was second on her list

Although she can and would eat anything, she is still picky

Her favorite flavor is human and salt

She knows French (ah yes, one of the “Love Languages”)

She snores

Po Kong likes to torment Hsi Wu

She can walk on her own

Favorite food: Human

Bai Tza

Hates Shendu the most

Most outspoken and dominating out of all the demons (”verged on superiority complex”)

Tends to deal with situations more realistically, as well as learning from past mistakes

Despite her intelligence, her hubris still gets the best of her

Along with Tso Lan and Xiao Fung, she is one of the more authoritative demon figures of the family

Apparently didn’t have humans living in her palace, which was Atlantis

Can levitate

Bunch of banshee screeches. Yeesh

Xiao Fung

Talkative and slimey diplomat that prefers debating with his siblings rather than arguing and fighting

Enjoys fights to the death between his underlings

Has an interest in drama and being a part of it

Seems to be the most cooperative and decent when working with humans. Cool!

Absolutely despises the Netherworld so much that a human prison is “paradise“ to him

Along with Bai Tza and Tso Lan, he is one of the more authoritative demon figures of the family

Need to get somewhere? No problem, just jettison your way with wind bellows from your lungs through your mouth

Although he does care for his siblings, it’s apparently not enough to “carry the burden“ of freeing them. Maybe it’s out of pure laziness? He does seem against doing active things (other than blowing wind, which only he can do)

Headcanon Stuff

Why do the Demon Sorcerers (besides Shendu) actually care for one another and agree to share the Earth between each other? I did say they do not possess the inherent-to-parent instinct, but I never said they were not social animals. The demons may not have the need to reproduce or want sexual anything, but they do posses the need/want to have company, which is kind of supported by the fact that canonically and in real life, Chinese demons mainly want to be praised and treated like gods. One cannot be considered a god, nor be praised in general, if one does not have beings beneath or beside them for confirmation

So, in a way, you could say they all desire some sort of reassurance of their importance.

Their relationship with humans is understandable, given from with what I just said, but the relationship between one another is a little more... deep? They obviously consider each other legit family, so they do care about one another (with some rough-play rivalry), but I think it’s less on the biological factor and more of the “fitting in“ factor.

Here’s my theory: Yes they are biologically family, but they did not view each other as such originally. After a while of being with one another, experiencing similarities, they became family-close in the metaphorical sense (in addition to the literal sense). This would explain how Shendu could have lost touch with them intimately while the others did not with each other, all the while still considering each other as family.

So, despite my whole push on the demons having little compassion, they do still harbor it; expressing it through family feelings. However, just like humans, there are always those who posses less compassion than the average person, and that would be Shendu. Shendu is the psychopath of the family-- the Black Sheep, if you will

In addition, theoretically, for all those fangirls and guys out there, they could love you like a precious pet. Just sayin’ (so, like, imagine the Demon Sorcerers having human pets and treating them like we do our own “Look how much of a chonkster my human is!” “Oh yeah? Well mine started getting ready for winter early; look at this massive boy-o!” I call my cats “stupid, stinky babies who I love” and then proceed to cuddle them all the time :V)

Fuck it, they have family movie/theatre nights because I find it endearing even though it may be Out of Character

To begin this next section, I want to state that the Demon Sorcerers are based on The Bagua. However, it is merely their elements that are the inspiration, not anything with the philosophy behind Bagua. However however, I will be looking into it and seeing what the Bagua has that still can reflect on the sorcerers. In other words, instead of basing the demons on the Bagua, I’ll be “basing“ the Bagua on the demons, if that makes sense.

Smol

Hsi Wu’s kingdom was probably located on the eastern coast of the USA

Judging by that teacher’s transformation with some of his chi, he may have “avian tendencies” with flying south for the winter and building nest-like structures

Probably the most convincing one to “befriend“ a human. Not because of his past friendship with Jade, but because people could relate to him of being picked on from size and lack of abilities, in addition to being more approachable because of his size and playfulness

His demeanor is mostly childlike, especially with how cruel children can be

Probably dislikes orchestral music, especially violins, flutes, the triangle, etc

Would most likely become a memester. Maybe.

“How do ya do, fellow kids?“

Likes to listen to music/singing while doing things and stuff. So, maybe he has to be distracted to some degree to be content, or he will be grumpy? (AD(H)D)

Real Talk: At one point in Tale of the Demon Tail (where Jade “befriends” Hsi Wu, or really his persona), Hsi Wu’s persona of being Jade’s friend actually disintegrates. Meaning, that “mask“ he put on to befriend Jade, at one point dissolved into an actual aspect of himself. So, when he answered Jade’s question of ‘are you going to the dance‘ or whatever, his initial response was that of an actual human-child Hsi Wu friend. While yes he was still acting, his initial response was almost unconscious, and then he realized what he was saying and said the other thing. I mean, it could have easily been “Nah, that’s stupid-- oh wait, that’s a good idea to get inside the house, actually,“ but that still follows the unconscious response action. What am I getting at here? Well, the interaction the two had proves that a clump of Hsi Wu’s personality does click with Jade. I’m not saying “I ship it“ or anything, what I’m saying is their personalities attract one another in general and could work between two different characters. As much as they seem to get along, there are other characteristics the two have that oppose one another and definitely shatters that friendship. So, Jade and Hsi Wu Being Friends? No; Some Personality Traits They Have Connect to One Another in General and Could Work Between? Yes.

The ye olde game of Chase is probably his favorite. Ya know, the game where you chase people around? Yeah, any game where he gets to chase/hunt his pray would be his favorite

Very similar to Shendu, Hsi Wu is one of the craftier folk of the family. However, unlike Shendu, creativity is his primary weapon which is, of course, used to make up for his size. 

Similar to Xiao Fung, Hsi Wu is also one of the siblings that listens and pays attention the most. Their difference being is the information he learns is more for his selfish advantage than a “getting along” way. 

Despite his dishonesty towards Jade, he is the most integral to himself. What I mean is, while yes all the demons follow their demon ethos, I believe Hsi Wu is the most true to himself and wouldn’t back down or reject something he is honestly interested in. However, probably because he knows how others know him, he can use this integrity to fool others into believing him with ease.

Hsi Wu is also probably the most inclined to have faith in others, but this DOES NOT mean he easily trusts people. What I’m saying is he may not easily trust others, but when he does, that faith in them is near unwavering

“The Beauty of Mischief”

“Lord High Lord of the Sky,” or “Lord High Lord of Firmament”

Vamps

Tso Lan’s “kingdom“ was probably located on the Moon

Like all sophisticated assholes, he probably enjoys reading, but only books that deal with the fall of humanity and apocalypse stuff. Maybe even some space stuff, like the movie Interstellar? (Star Wars can kiss his ass, though)

Can posses dark matter? Because of his dark magic bolts and his affinity with gravity?

Doesn’t like being around people. His siblings are fine, but he rather not have company, judging by how he most likely spends his time on the Moon and rarely visits Earth. Antisocial personality disorder much??

Like we have stated earlier, Tso Lan never gives out compliments, for he is oh so difficult to please. He watches intently and is careful with his neutral wording, always sounding cold and cruel. However, despite his emotionless disposition, he does have some ugly colors. For example, he does get angry, especially when he is interrupted. Example two, he does take pleasure in tormenting his enemies. However, the good color of natural tranquility explains his seemingly “lack of emotion.”

If he can ever “give respect” to anyone, it’s probably so difficult to achieve it should be considered impossible. But hey, if you do somehow get his compliments, consider yourself special, home slice! In addition, it’s probably also highly unlikely to get him to laugh. Like, not even a chuckle. Maybe a sarcastic and flat “Ha,“ but nothing too intense.

He may not think of himself as king or an emperor, but he does view himself as some sort of higher metaphysical power, like a pontiff. In addition, he probably sees his position being the highest because of his throne on the Moon and his power over gravity (and maybe dark matter). Being used to this placement, he has distanced himself from just about every living thing, being untainted with normal, petty desires. Oh but being a demon has its drawbacks, for wanting is in the blood. Meaning, there are most likely some things out there that he may desire (Fanfic Writers, assemble!)

You want him him to talk dirty to you? Why yes, you should keep good hygiene and not be smelly. Real Talk, though, because of his lack of emotion words, he probably would have difficulty conveying emotion verbally. But hey, his voice and tones are enough to get anyone aroused :V

Might secretly like dancing, but only simple ones. Like, The Waltz would be the most active he’d like

Might also hum tunes every so often. Despite that, he still prefers silence over noise of any kind.

“The Beauty of Isolation”

“Lord High Lord of the Moon,” or “Lord High Lord of Satellites”

Shit Dad

Probably studies magic the most and has a huge library filled to the brim with spell books and whatnot

Drago may be on his mind a lot, but probably not for any positive reason

Probably had Drago made for that thing in Taoism where two beings can connect one another metaphysically, and if one is in trouble (like they died or something), the other can help out (and resurrect if need be). Or, he wanted someone that wasn’t human on his side because he’s sure as Hell his siblings won’t side with him

While Drago is way more hotheaded than his Dad, it seems Shendu is more likely to let a petty grudge get in the way of his goals

Shendu hates family reunions

Dude’s a mad scientist

Probably regrets having Drago

Oh God, oh fuq, it’s the Big Bad Dragon that wants everything for himself. He must know what his name translates to because oh boy does he feel entitled to his mighty sovereignty. Like, he lusts for power so much that no amount of trickery could mask his clarity of greed, ya know, like a “true” dragon. What he wants, he will obtain, with let nothing obstruct his path… other than a petty grudge. He’s so full of passion and thermal rage he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst his brethren. He would even sink to deep lows to get what he desires, even if it is heavily depending on humans, lying, cheating, and stealing from his own family, doing forbidden things with humans to have a “son” he only wants to use as a playing piece, and even bend reality to his liking.

However, I must say it is impressive and admirable how adaptive he is with every situation he finds himself in. He is rather courageous and would try anything to reach his goal, even if it is siding with the enemy. Shendu speaks in sophistication and eloquence, to which the latter trait he shares with Xiang Zu, despite his childlike outbursts of rage.

He may not be the most elementally powerful sibling, but he is The Best with knowledge about other magics like spells and potions.

He does perform the stereotype of “dragons are beasts of greed” exceptionally well, which, I can admit, is pretty hot, being a monster lover myself

Something I’ve noticed with his face is that he lacks lips, which are replaced with external tooth-like structures. This actually forces the creators to make him expressive through other means, like his eyes. So, he’s expressive, and he fits the draconic poem I read in a book somewhere “Beware the glint in a dragons’ eye/ It is cold as ice to the liar/ It is sharp as a knife to the knave/ It is hard as iron to the greedy/ It is a burning flame to the brave.”

“The Beauty of Wrath”

“Lord High Lord of Fire,” or “Lord High Lord of The Thermal”

Sparky

Tchang Zu’s kingdom was probably located on the western coast of the USA

Would request for extravagant buildings and structures, as well as being a big fan of theatre (Beowulf, anyone?)

I can imagine him having a deep, boisterous laugh that is an award to trigger

Probably the best war strategist, everyone would hate playing Axis and Allies with him (He’d either play Russia for the size, or Germany because, well, you know)

(I’m just repeating what I’ve already stated, but whatever.) Similar to Tso Lan, Tchang Zu is careful with his words. However, what the latter does is speak only when he deems it appropriate, and sometimes with eloquence. When he does share his thoughts, it is in an assertive tone, making everyone stop and listen.

Tchang Zu is rarely ever caught off guard and surely plants himself where he stands, literally and figuratively. Despite his assertiveness, he does not come off as one of the most “authoritative” figures of the family. Instead, he’s more of an overseer and commander, making sure everything is falling in line under his, and his siblings’, iron-fist.

He is one of the few that would take the initiative when confronting a problem, which must be pretty terrifying for the opposition, seeing as how intimidating he is. Oof. Although he is on the shorter side, it does not bother him, for he knows his power is just as great as his siblings’.

Unlike his siblings, he wouldn’t be one of the “crafty” folk. What I mean is he isn’t a trickstery cuck like Hsi Wu and Shendu, but actually follows demon code and honor. I mean, not that “demon honor” is anything greater or equal to “human honor,” but the point still stands. What is “Demon Code and Honor” you ask? I dunno, watch Jackie Chan Adventures and observe demon culture yourself.

His demeanor may be slow and steady, but when he fights and flashes lightning, so much power and energy erupts from within. Majestic

Knows how to use semicolons properly

“The Beauty of Imperiality”

“Lord High Lord of Thunder,” or “Lord High Lord of Electricity”

Dai Guinguini

Dai Gui’s Kingdom was probably located on the western coast of Europe, maybe more specifically Spain

Let’s take that “hates pretty things“ even further beyond. The words “delicate and innocent“ usually come to mind when the words “pretty“ and “flower“ are shown. So, I headcanon he hates weak and fragile looking things, as well as cute. The more petite and dainty something looks, the more of an urge to destroy rises up

Probably needs to hold down a vomit when seeing romance in any medium (lava vomit?)

Also probably iffy on crystals and gems. Like, they are shiny and pretty and are sometimes delicate, but man, the massive structures these things can form into is crazy.

Dai Gui reminds me of the colossi in Shadow of the Colossus when viewed just wandering around. We know he acts like a brute and hates petite things, and is quite aggressive when he fights, but there’s something about him that makes me think of some majestic creature that likes to walk around all alone in a wide open space. There is some beauty to his “monstrosity” and I feel like that’s overlooked by him always being described as, well, a brute. 

Although not as intense as Shendu’s, rage can also be a common sight with Dai Gui, but it’s mostly from his non preferred environments. Also, similar to Tchang Zu, Dai Gui appreciates his structural surroundings, but has a more keen interest in its earthly variety. Mountains, canyons, plains, plateaus, mesas, volcanos, deserts, etc. would be his ideal territory. Like I have mentioned before, I feel like he’d often roam around his landscape, constantly fixing and changing anything he desired. 

Even though he doesn’t like flowers and such, I do not think he hates nature in general. Maybe most of it, but not all. He may like huge ass trees for their size and might, grasslands (like savannas) because, although grass is all over, it still gives a vast emptiness of calmness, which deserts give a vast emptiness of despair.

Quick note, I’m not saying he’s artistic and elegant. What I am saying he isn’t just a dumb idiot caveman that just lusts for destruction, but rather actually has a hobby of shaping the earth. Yes, he might find the terrestrial variety of the earth interesting, but he isn’t all, like, “Hmm yes, insert fancy art words here;” he’s more like “Hm yes, me like; I shall do more over there” and then just… does it without any pre planning or anything.

Not only does he like creating earthly structures, but also destroying them. Have you ever built something so cool (or have just seen something so cool) with Legos or whatever, and for some reason want to destroy it just because ‘ha ha destruction fun’? Yeah, that’s him sometimes.

I’d also like to add he likes bugs. Not only eating them, but also admiring their earth shaping tendencies. Their structures won’t stop him from eating them all, but he does like to see what they make before the big snack

I bet he likes to sunbathe sometimes. Mmmmm, warm rocks always feel good. Cool rocks, too! (This also made me think of belly rubs… hmm)

“The Beauty of Incessance”

“Lord High Lord of Earth,” or “Lord High Lord of Formation“

Mount Vesuvius

Po Kong’s kingdom was probably located in Japan, and/or Japan itself

Most likely the one to zone out on meetings with just thoughts on food (ADD maybe?)

Although she’d eat anything, Po Kong probably appreciates and remembers excellent meals. In addition, she probably could describe in detail of various tastes

Or, alternatively, since she eats so much all the food just blends together

Apparently, humans taste like chicken. So maybe, genetically create giant ass chickens, like in Skyrim, and feed her that if humans become scarce and/or too small for satisfaction

Probably the most difficult demon to satisfy, but not just because of hefty demands, but because she is practically the personification of gluttony. Like, I’m sure she can and will eat anything she wants, even inorganic things. She likes it? Nom. She hates it? Nom. She will never be fulfilled until she has consumed all… or until she explodes or whatever. I’m being dramatic. 

Luckily, she is not picky. Unluckily, she is also picky. I guess it just depends on her hunger mood. One day, she may want just a bunch of salty snacks, likes chips and fries, and on another day she may want a giant bundt cake filled with gooey human flesh and blood. 

Legit though, her kingdom/empire would be the number one food place in the entire world, with having the largest kitchen and all the best cooks (ha ha, like a collection. You could say she would have Too Many Cooks, but “too many” doesn’t exist in Po Kong World!). She would have food critics to make sure the meals she really wants to enjoy taste wonderful. Dude, like, imagine Gordon Ramsay and Guy Fieri at her command. She’d laugh her ass off with Ramsay yelling at people and Fieri with all of his antics; they’d be her favorite little humans. Funny, they’d both still be practically doing the job they do now, just being ordered around by a tyrannical demon who also likes food.

Has no interest in video games and picture shows, but does have the interest in the unique food that appears in them and of course demands them to be made for her.

To get on her “good side” is to be absolutely loyal to her and her eating habits. Ya gotta make the best meals, serve them in delightful ways (she actually doesn’t care about any fancy stuff, but appreciates the effort if done right).

I bet she likes getting spoiled. I mean, yeah, all the demons would want gifts rained down upon them, but they wouldn’t express as much glee as Po Kong would. She’d probably sound condescending half the time, but hey, at least she’s happy and smiles. Gotta give her big gifts though. Go big or go home, folks.

Just like us folk, she prefers Maximum Comfort when eating. That means sitting in her favorite chair, eating from her favorite dish, and watching her favorite entertainment pieces.

Ya into vore? She’s your woman *finger guns*

“The Beauty of Indulgence”

“Lord High Lady of the Mountains,” or “Lord High Lady of Beasts“

What do you call a fish without eyes? A Fsh

Bai Tza’s kingdom is factually Atlantis, but in the JCA universe, Atlantis might be close to the southern coast of Europe in the Mediterranean Sea

She’d be the one initially planning family get-togethers  

Do I dare say I could imagine her being a dominatrix? Yeah sure

Similar to Tso Lan, she has/had an isolated kingdom away from humanity, but unlike her brother she most likely had subjects, which lived coastal in southern and south-east Europe, Northern Africa, and the Middle-East. Every civilization took a part in building her castle and its decor, but soon after it was complete, she sank it to the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea, never to be gazed upon with mortal eyes ever again.

Although she can survive in either, Bai Tza prefers warm and salty waters over cool and fresh waters. 

Because of her unique bond with water, which literally has her able to morph to and fro between a liquid and solid state, she probably traveled and oversought numerous locations around the world, with any place being close to warm and salty seas. Did she hold dominion over them? Maybe, seeing as how just the Mediterranean Sea and most of its surrounding land is quite small for a kingdom when compared to her siblings’ territories. 

Bai Tza may not be one of the most powerful siblings, but she is the most feared. She’s able to restrain herself when angry, she thinks outside the box when confronting obstacles, and her dynamism makes her tricky to confront. She is straightforward, blunt, and has a wicked and sharp tongue. Like stated before, she is one of the more outspoken relatives, being very dominant in every activity she takes part in. Wouldn’t surprise me if she was a control freak. However, enjoying her power so much leads her to be arrogant, making her hubris the number one weakness.

Bai Tza is probably the most cruel because she actively thinks about the damage she can cause instead of just doing it. Despite her cruelty, she isn’t heartless; she may in fact be the one that cares about her family the most, with having the most hatred for Shendu because of his betrayal to said family. On a side note with Drago, she probably rejects him mostly for his differences than his relation with Shendu, but of course the latter still counts. So, welcoming those into her tight personal circle would be a ‘no.’ 

Despite her evilness, she can and will compliment things that amuse her, and being super protective of them like personal property.

Would drown ships with anti-demon supporting humans on them, as well as anyone who enters her territory without permission. Probably could be convinced with gifts, but they better be good. 

Theoretically could forgive past mistakes, but they must be made up with something equal or greater amount to said mistake. 

Likes to wear jewelry, especially gold.

“The Beauty of Absolution“

“Lord High Lady of Water,“ or “Lord High Lady of the Abyss“

Froggy

Xiao Fung’s kingdom was probably located in Latin America

One of the smarter siblings, Xiao Fung prefers to discuss and debate over physically fighting. Not sure why, but maybe because he doesn’t view physical fighting as something “high ups” do; all of the dirty work is for the peasants beneath them. However, if forced and there being no other way, he would partake.

Knows the art of conversation quite well and usually dishes out the best conversations. He may not be eloquent like Tchang Zu, or very particular with his words like Tso Lan, but damn can he keep a conversation going if need be. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d yak with others if he’s bored. Maybe try talking some existential stuff with him; that’d be neat. Or keep asking ‘why’ like an annoying child, and he’d probably be tricked into answering each one, with getting annoyed more and more the longer it all goes on.

Despite his laziness, he still would do activities that require his assistance, as long as it’s something only he can do. If there is someone else available, he’ll leave it to them.

Xiao Fung is probably one of the more “approachable” demons, being how he doesn’t immediately give off  “fear and respect me or die” vibes. He’s still intimidating, but to those with any amount of courage could muster up to confront him. Ya know, if it isn’t anything personal to him, then in that case you’d be the one telling everyone how terrifying he is, also, ya know, if he lets you go back to your village. 

It wouldn’t surprise me if he had decision making issues when it comes to something he likes vs something useful/”right” 

If a human went up to him and made a deal, he most likely would take it as long as he gets something in return that he wants, as well as the odds being in his favor. 

Human antics are strange and insignificant, but they are still intriguing to him and would converse about it. Just don’t think you’d make him change his opinion on us; that won’t happen, fo sho. 

The most forgiving and patient of the family, although it may not be by much. It most likely stems from his diplomatic character, being willing to discuss situations, even thoughts he leans more against. It’s really the subjects she is 100% not on board with he will not discuss, but something around 70%-60% he’d be more willing to listen to. Whether he actually agrees with you and is not just listening for amusement is another story. 

Really enjoys music, favoring well put together orchestral.

Could hold some serious long notes, and probably sing in all sorts of keys (Dude. Singing bass)

Dude probably loves board games like chess.

Tchang Zu and him probably get along well because of shared interests in theatre and strategy games.

Would be the one to bring up topics to get everyone arguing if things got boring, like politics. In addition, he would also bring up playing the “Friendship Ender” games we all know and love, like Uno and Monopoly.

While Hsi Wu carries the “shit eating smile,” Xiao Fung has the “smug cat” face.

“The Beauty of Disruption“

“Lord High Lord of Wind,“ or “Lord High Lord of Currents“

Bonus Factoids Upon my Research

Theoretically, because it is stated that the Twelves Talismans are physical manifestations/vessels of Shendu’s powers, the other eight sorcerers (this includes Drago) could have their own Twelves Talismans

Apparently, killing/destroying a demon causes the disruption of balance within the universe, causing a “stronger evil“ to manifest and fill that “wound.“ So, again, theoretically, could a “stronger good“ happen as well if a situation summons/calls for it??

Sadly, according to Shendu, the all chi-absorption thing Drago did at the end of Season 5 is irreversible. So, canonically, Drago is technically forever stuck as a Cthulhu abomination. I am forever sad. Like, yeah I’m a terato lover, but I really prefer Drago as normal :’( However, Shendu answered to a human using a man-made chi spell. What if the actual Demon Sorcerers did a chi spell, to which apparently is conductible without external means? Could they be powerful enough to reverse it if all of them worked together???

[Chinese and English Name/Japanese Name- Chinese Translation/Japanese Translation]

Hsi Wu/Tokage- Evil Lizard/Small Lizard

Tso Lan/Kyuketsuki- Flood maker/ Vampire

Shendu/Kiryu- God of All (oof)/Spirit Dragon

Tchang Zu/Oni- Soldier of Madness/Ogre

Dai Gui/Shishi- Great Ogre/Stone Lion

Po Kong/Daikaiju- Feared Cliff/Giant Monster

Bai Tza/Nisei- Force of Defeat/Second Generation

Xiao Fung/Keroro- Little Wind/Frog

Early Christmas gift to y’all :V

God I hope this is good enough. I’ve been spending all my free time working on these guys just to get the original ask done. Don’t get me wrong, I did like doing this and forming at least some kind of unique character with each, but I am so exhausted from how long I’ve been working on it. It’s mainly my fault for being such a try hard, so don’t blame yourself, Anon who asked for this; you all good, bruv.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“First Lines” | Tag Game

Hey Y’all I have gotten tagged in this a few times— thank you so so much @auroracalisto @mikaelson-emma and, of course, @hellotvshowtrash— I haven’t had much time to read them and form coherant thoughts but expect some soon. 

So the rules are you post the opening lines to 20 of your most recent fics— or all the ones you have if you don’t have 20— and it kinda just shows who you are as a writer and it’s just fun!

I decided to include some WIP’s— and expose to everyone who is not @activist-af the sheer amount of fics that I start and then set aside. Please enjoy y’all I got a kick out of compiling this list!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies, a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies. Right?

(WIP | Persephone’s Symphony | Bucky Barnes)

_

“Did you pack my dress!” A shrill voice assaults her eardrums as she scurries towards the door.

It comes from a tall, thin, young woman. Her face and fingers are boney, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves down her back. The faintest aroma of honeysuckles and violets wafts off her creamy skin. She is beautiful, her step sister Anna. At least in theory. The sneer on her cherry lips and the hatred in her cerulean eyes, unclouded and accusatory, can’t be hidden by any length of silky dress or ruby lipstick, though. She is ugly, even if just on the inside.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter One | Loki)

_

The ride to the capitol takes three gruelling days. Each night is spent at a different tavern. It is the same story each time; Estrid and Anna spend the night in a lavish bed and Y/n is left with the horses, curled under her thankfully baggy cloak. It is neither warm nor comfortable, sleeping on the bench seat of the carriage. She never really falls asleep, she only dozes in and out of consciousness. It is almost always interrupted by footsteps or the murmurs of animals or her own mostly empty stomach growling into the night. That one is twofold- usually her stomach is in so much nauseating pain that she cannot sleep but, on the off occasion she can, she is then awoken by the loud roars it makes.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Two | Loki)

_

“Please Surtr.”

Her voice rings through his ears on a loop, the most beautiful and agonizing melody that he has surely ever heard. She must be magic- something strong and powerful and like nothing he has ever seen before. There is no other explanation. It had been magic when she appeared to him, literally falling into his lap as if out of thin air. He is the god of tricks but even he cannot do that- he cannot make women that smell like flower petals land in his arms at will. He wishes he could- more than anything he wishes he could pluck her out of his dreams and bring her back to him. But he cannot because that was not a trick. That was something else entirely.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Three | Loki)

_

Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Four | Loki)

_

“On the balcony,” Frigga calls back, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. “We have company!” She adds, seemingly as an after thought— she is too busy pouring wine from a glass feeder into a beautifully ornate cup.

At least, Y/n thinks it is wine. She can smell the fermented berries— sweet and tangy and warming her nose as all wines she has encountered before have— only this wine is a pale violet shade. It is not an opaque rouge, not a barely there chartreuse. Nothing like what she has ever been able to get her hands on by way of bartering or shared celebration. Weddings and births. She takes a seat in one of the golden chairs, trying not to think about how out of her element she truly is. The little details are starting to show though. Not just extravagant pools and marble hallways. Even the food here is luxurious.

(WIP | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Five | Loki)

_

She would have never thought it possible. Never. She’s the type to sit at home and crack open a good book. Maybe make a nice cup of tea. Lately she has been finding hibiscus tea to be a nice way to end the night. That’s besides the point, though. The point is that she is nothing like her older sister Jane. She is a dreamer, not a doer. Not a traveller.

Especially not a traveller of space— of foreign planets.

(WIP | Untitled | Loki)

_

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

(Posted | Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys)

_

“Get away from me, Kai!” Y/n snarls, pushing her way through the grill with a huffing witch on her heels.

She had been eating her meal- staring at her meal more like— and trying to ignore the constant buzz of her phone. He was incessant, texting her non— stop as if it would make it all better. After the thirtieth text she had turned her phone off, preferring to look at her food in silence. No text can erase his voice in her head. She means nothing to me.

“Not going to happen, kitten,” Kai purrs, his hand wrapping around her arm and tugging her to his chest, “you’re not going to ignore me.”

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

_

New Orleans isn’t all that it was cracked up to be she muses to herself as she winds her way through the tombs. They tower over her, shadowing her with the sins of so many people before her. They’re lonely. That’s all she can think, over and over again. They must be so lonely. There can’t possibly be enough people to visit each of them. There aren’t even any people to visit her, let alone thousands of lost souls. She laughs to herself, a cruel sound breaking through the crashing silence. She is a lost soul.

(WIP | Do You Have A Moment? | Kol Mikaelson)

_

A little bit outside the city lines of New Orleans, tucked precariously off highway 109, there stands a roadside market. It isn’t too far, nor is it too close; it’s just right, like the porridge in some half assed, uninspired fairytale. It’s nestled perfectly on the edge of the bayou, drawing in just enough business to keep the two girls running it in business. The jam is sweet, the ham is honeyed, and the women have smiles that look a little bit like rain in a drought: necessary for life but too much water on dry soil is a recipe for disaster. It’s all a little bit too perfect. Too clean cut and wholesome. But this isn’t a fairytale, after all. It’s the story of the girl who got away with it and the girl who helped her do it.

(WIP | Hey Tommy | The Mikaelsons)

_

The Salvatore house has always smelled the same; like oranges and rum. A lot of rum. It is a welcome scent, one that smells almost like home. It will never truly be home, those scents are already reserved in your very essence, but it’s close. You’ll always be happy to walk through their door. Today is no different.

(WIP | Forever and Always | The Mikaelsons)

_

Kol drags a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on the book in front of him. His eyes wander the page, the corner of his mouth lifting when he skims something particularly interesting. You, too, have a book in your hands but, unlike him, your focus is elsewhere. To be exact, your focus is four feet away, basking in the sun on the lap of one shirtless vamp.

(WIP | Best Friend Things / Part Two | Kol Mikaelson)

_

“So, love,” a pair of arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a warm chest, “these are the famous pumpkins?”

A familiar blonde head, the one you woke up to this morning, settles against your shoulder. He must be leaning significantly given the fact that he’s at least a good head taller than you. You break the rain spell you had been working on, laying your wand next to your pumpkin starts. That’s the beauty of magic, you can grow in any season. You turn to face Klaus, a soft smile on your face.

(WIP | Pumpkin / Harry Potter Universe AU | Klaus Mikaelson)

_

The salt clings to her sticky skin, her hair grainy and matted from the surf. Thunder rolls overhead, chasing her through The Cut like. It’s only half past noon but shadows layer the street, casting everything in a dusky gloom. The pavement smells sharp; the rain is coming and fast. She hikes her tote higher on her shoulder and wishes for a moment that she hadn’t dove for as many shells today. She feels like a beached whale with all the dead weight. Business is business, though, and the tourists go crazy for a handmade necklace.

(WIP | Thunderstorm Afternoons | Jj Maybank and John B. Routledge)

_

She shoves her key into the lock of the Smith’s beach house, turning it with an audible click and smiling when she pushes the door open to the smell of warm pizza and oranges. Try as the boys may, Mrs. Smith’s affinity for essential oils will always prevail over the mass amount of cheap pizza they consume on what is— unfortunately— the daily. She hauls her bag higher on her shoulder, closing the door behind her and thanking the heavens she remembered to pack some of the chicken her mother made for dinner on her way out the door. No Domino's tonight, thank you very much.

(WIP | Sleepovers | The Kook Boys)

_

“Y/n, darling, come here,” her mother’s sweet voice trickled over her from the front hall, “I have some people I want you to meet.”

She stepped into the hallway, coloured lights pouring over her. It was Christmas time, her favourite time, and everything was extravagantly decorated. Garland lined the grand staircase, there was a tree in almost every room, and, her favourite, holly strung in every doorway. Her house radiated magic, more so than usual, that is.

(WIP | Hufflepuff Princess | Draco Malfoy)

_

Her feet hit the pavement with careful clicks, her heels— while undeniably killer— a little loud for her taste: a product of her day spent in practice with the other debutante girls. She has to force herself to make her steps light. This isn’t New York, it’s Mystic Falls. Being a southern woman is not a choice; it’s an obligation. A prior commitment she agreed to before she was old enough to truly fathom what it meant. For the most part she loves it— the elegance and refinery, the teatime giggles and flouncing skirts— but the heels? That’s a hard no.

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

_

She sighs, her toes burying themselves in the carpet as her arms reach well past her head in a much needed stretch. Her room is dark, the only light coming from her cheap desk lamp. The pounding in her head, for once, isn’t enough to drown out anything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. None of this was supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to get this far. It was always just a game, wasn’t it? She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her knees wobbling slightly at the thought. Get it together, y/n.

(Posted | The Bet | Rafe Cameron)

_

Her bubblegum lip gloss attacks him from all the way across the café, cutting cleanly through the aroma of coffee and donuts and sending his heart racing at the obscenely sweet scent. He should hate it. No, scratch that, he shouldn’t think anything of it at all. It’s not in his nature to enjoy things- or to feel things at all, to be frank- but he can’t help it. The drugstore brand, wildly over-scented balm makes his head fuzzy like nothing else.

(Posted | Bubblegum Princess, Cherry Angel | Kai Parker)

_

I don’t really know who to tag because I haven’t been active these last few days so I am tagging people I have not seen do this yet and if you have just ignore me : @elijahs-wife @draconisxcaput @imaginearyparties @dumble-daddy 

[angelily95]

On The Day We Fall In Love : Queen Of The Night (Pt.1)

Bang Yongguk x Reader

Romance, slight angst, boyfriend!au

Mention of mental illness in the upcoming parts

Basically a long series of short stories that inspired by different songs.

Tapping your red painted nails on the table, you occasionally tap your phone to see if there's any text from him and to check the time. You would only wait for him for another five minutes, you had been waiting at the cafe for almost thirty-minutes.

Sipping on the mixed berries smoothie, your mind started to drift away from the cafe. You were wondering about the man you had been waiting for. No, he was not your boyfriend and you wouldn't really call him a friend. He's just a guy from marketing class who happened to be paired with you for an assignment because you were absent when the professor asked the students to form a pair. Same goes for him. That was the reason you were meeting him that day.

Your body jumped slightly when a screeching sound greeted your ears. Someone just pulled the chair in front of you and took a seat in a rush, placing a backpack on top of the table. You heard he gasped for air as he offered you an apologetic smile. His hair was tousled, his wavy bang stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"I am so sorry." He verbally apologized to you this time, pulling out his laptop from the black bag.

"Yongguk!" You let out a comforting laugh. "Calm down. Why are you acting like you're being chased by a ghost?"

He mirrored your smile and you prefered it better than his previous awkward smile. He had pretty lips, you personally loved the curls at the corner. "I thought you were mad at me." There was a hint of relief in his voice.

You crossed your arms and said, "I am mad at you."

"I am sorry…"

"This is my first and last warning, okay?" You playfully squint your eyes at him, trying to intimidate him but you could imagine how ridiculous you looked. He nodded, offering that beautiful smile that made your heart skip a beat again.

"Wanna have a cold drink? Your face is red. It must be hot outside." Your eyes scanned his face and the way his hair still stuck to his forehead bothered you. You rummaged through your tote bag and held out a red handkerchief to him, pointing at his temple.

He stared at your face for a moment, digesting your action and you swore you caught his eyes darted to your red lips before he looked at the handkerchief and received it.

He pushed his hair back, making it even messier and dabbed the handkerchief on his forehead. A gasp left your lips when you saw his slender fingers. They were bruised.

"Yongguk, what happened?" You asked, very concerned. Did he get into a fight?

"Huh?" Then, he realized the cause of your concern and hid his hands under the table. "Nothing. I'll go and order my drink." He left the table and headed for the counter. It was obvious he was avoiding your question. You had no rights to push him to tell you but it fell wrong to let him with his bruised hand like that. You called for a staff that was passing by and asked for a first-aid box. Yongguk came back with a cup of iced americano, brow lifted when he saw the box.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to help." You insisted. "Give me your hand." You started treating his wound, too focused that you didn't realize Yongguk was gazing at you like he would to the stars on the night sky.

It was the longest time you'd ever held hands with a man that wasn't your boyfriend.

***

A 3 days 2 nights class trip.

You were catching up with your group of girlfriends, waiting for the bus driver to open the door of the vehicle. They were talking about the clothes they brought. You had been trying hard not to but your eyes wandered around the crowd, hoping to see him. It was a dumb thing to do, though. He had replied to your text a few days ago saying he was not a fan of socializing with a lot of people so he would pass this one. Still, you wished he came.

You watched as two men were laughing about something on their phone and when they moved from their spot, it revealed a man who was sitting on top of his luggage, carrying a backpack. Your face immediately lit up, walking toward him who was scrolling his phone. He didn't notice your presence until you poked his arm. He lifted his eyes from the screen and met yours. You caught the flickers in his eyes when he saw your wide smile.

"Hi." He greeted you.

"You're here." You stated dreamily, confirming it to yourself. You were so disappointed a few minutes ago but it was all forgotten.

"I'm here."

"You're here." You repeated like a broken lovesick doll. His melodious chuckle rang in your ear, making your chest swell with something you could not put a name on it. Something crossed your mind, "Wanna sit together?"

"Err…" He hesitated to answer and you couldn't help but be crestfallen.

"It's okay. I was asking just in case you didn't have a seat partne—"

"What about your friends?" was his question.

"Hmm…" You took a few seconds to make a sentence in your mind. "We're a group of five so one will be left out."

"Let's sit together." He reached out to lightly nudge your arm, for no obvious reason.

You smiled, "Let's sit together."

***

That night, you slipped away from your group of friends again to talk to Yongguk. They didn't question why you sat with Yongguk in the bus, knowing you were acquainted with him. Apart from talking to you, Yongguk didn't talk much with anyone else. He joined it when a group of men gathered but he only observed and listened. That's why you felt obligated to talk to him, after all you were the one who convinced him to come.

You were walking toward him when a stranger approached you, selling you a bouquet of flowers. You didn't need those pretty flowers yet you found yourself taking out money from your tote bag and purchased the bouquet. Yongguk would like it, right?

The whole group of the trip were allowed to sightsee on the street, to admire the architecture of the unique buildings there. Yongguk was alone, sitting on a wooden bench near a tall dim lamp pole, slurping a cup of instant noodles he got from the nearest convenience store.

A pair of eyes lit up when he saw you but his mouth was full so he hummed and tipped his head to acknowledge your presence. You took a place next to him and held out the flowers to him.

"For you." You shyly looked at his bewildered face, almost wanting to hide your face in your hands but you kept your cool.

"For me?" His muffled voice inquired as he  was covering his full mouth with a hand. His cheeks flushed when he received them from you, eyes marvelled at the pretty colours.

"Hungry?"

"Oh, sorry." He felt bad for eating alone so he offered the cup to you. You were still full from the meal you had before but something about sharing food with Yongguk excited you so you accepted his offer. Your fingers brushed against his when you took the chopsticks from him, smiling to yourself. You lowered your head to slurp on the hot noodles, forgot to put your long black hair to the back first so a strand of hair entered your mouth along with the noodles but only Yongguk noticed it. So with one hand holding the flowers bouquet, another hand gathered your silky hair and held it back while you kept slurping. His action was so intimate to you, you felt your face getting warm. Or was it the noodles?

You returned the cup back to him and helped him hold the flowers so he could finish his noodles.

Indirect kiss. Silly, girly part of your mind whispered to your heart when he put the chopsticks you just used to his lips. He drank the soup before proudly showing the empty cup to you and tossed it into the trash bin nearby.

"Let's have a walk." He took the bouquet from your hand, only after he quickly caressed the back of your hand with his thumb. And you… your head was high in the cloud, dreamily followed him while staring at his side profile as he was sniffing the flowers. He was such a view, the yellowish dim light that illuminated the street made him look ten times intriguing that he usually were. You wished you could save this view in your mind and look at it on the nights you spend thinking about him. You took out your phone, contemplating whether to ask for his permission first or not.

"Why did you get me this?" He walked closer to you, arms brushing so that you could hear his voice clearly. There were a lot of times you told him you couldn't understand what he said because he mumbled his words, especially when there were others around.

"They are pretty..."

"Hmm?" One of his brow lifted, not understanding how that could be the reason. However, his lips bloomed into a smile.

"...and remind me of your smile." At this point, you were sure you were making your feelings too obvious. Seeing how flustered you were and the way you started to look anywhere but his face, he didn't want to tease you.

"Thank you." He gratefully said. "Can you take a photo of me? This is my first time receiving flowers. I want to keep the photo as a memory."

"Sure." Of course you could take more than a photo, you already intended to do so before he asked. You took multiple shots of him asking him to move around until you got the best shot.

"Done." You announced, looking at the photos to review them. Yongguk quickly held your arm and pulled you to the side as there were a group of people who wanted to pass by the alley. You looked up in surprise at him before shifting your gaze back to your phone, knowing he had kept you safe. 

You leaned your arm on the wall as Yongguk came closer and leaned down to look at the shots you took as you were shorter than him.

"Wow, they came out well."

Your eyes widened at how close he sounded, sending shivers down your spine. You were too afraid to move, as his deep voice rang exactly next to your ear, like his lips were somewhere near your earlobe. You leaned closer to the wall to create more space but there was no use as he was too close. You were not afraid of him taking advantage of you, you were afraid the proximity confirmed your feelings for him.

His slender forefinger was swiping on the screen on your phone while he kept talking about the photos as you were staring at his jaw, eventually at his lips. Yongguk frowned when he noticed your silence so he turned to face you and he was stunned.

There was something burning in your eyes and your lips were parted as your chest was heaving softly. His brown orbs followed the movement of yours, seeking for something. When you breathed through your mouth, the warm breath hit his face, giving him goosebumps.

Both of you stiffened as Yongguk rested his palm on the wall you were leaning on. Your eyes fluttered close when his lips landed on your smooth cheek, nose poking your flesh there. Your cold hands were awkwardly holding your phone on the same spot, floating in the air. You could hear the pounding of your heart and you bet he could hear it too.

His lips lingered on your skin longer than you expected but it was better that way. What if he regretted it after he pulled away?

A gasp left your lip when his cold fingers touched your chin and turned your head to face him fully. Now your back was leaning on the wall, you between his arms. You were getting shy with the way he was scanning your face. 

However, you found yourself looking up voluntarily and tip-toeing to meet his lips.

Your movement stopped when your lips were barely an inch from his, he just put his hand on your shoulders, squeezing them. He whispered your name, softly and lovingly. Repetitively, like a prayer. But to your ears, it was a sweet spell. Hypnotizing, making your fall deeper and deeper and you hoped he was there to catch you.

Yongguk didn't want to rush the kiss even though your lips that were always painted in red haunted him whenever he was alone. If he kissed you, he was afraid he couldn't let you go. If he kissed you, he was afraid he would surrender his heart to your hands. He was not sure if you're up for it and he didn't trust you enough for that.

Another kiss to the cheek would be enough, he decided. He placed his cold hand on your warm neck and you almost let out a sigh at the stark contrast. When his lips landed on your cheek again, your heart flipped yet there was a sudden ache. Maybe because you were hoping for something more.

You inhaled his scent, intoxicating mix of something gingery, minty and smoky. It registered in your head that he was probably a smoker, his lips were a bit purplish rather than pink in colour.

He abruptly pulled away when there were loud footsteps and yelling. You friends were coming your way, they had been looking for you.

"Yah, did you just take advantage of her?" One of your friends hit him with a bottle, staring accusingly. Yongguk looked at you, the fire in his eyes dimmed as he was waiting for you to say something. For you to deny the accusation.

"Guys, it's not like that. Let's go." You wrapped your arms around your friends' and dragged them away from there so they would not bully Yongguk anymore.

You friends were busy nagging at you, scolding you for not being careful.

"Yah, stop being too close with him. I told you he's a lot older than us all." 

"How is that a problem?" You let out an incredulous laugh. His age did not matter at all.

"That means there's something wrong with him. Why would someone take a long gap year to finish his studies?"

"He always has bruises. What if he's a gangster?" Another friend added.

"And he is so quiet and creepy. Like he's on drugs or something."

"Yah, that's not nice!" You hit her on her arm. Yongguk was indeed suspicious but you had never imagined to that extent.

"I'm just telling you he's a bad guy!"

"Let's stop talking about him and enjoy our time here." You suggested, tired of their babbles. They silently agreed and were looking for a famous building while referring to the map in one of your friends' smartphone. You took the chance to turn around, looking for him. There he was, walking alone around ten steps away. Your eyes met his, he was a bit surprised when you turned around because he had been watching you.

You mouthed something to him, making sure your friends did not see you. You smiled when his brows knitted together in confusion. He didn't catch it the first time so you moved your lips again.

There was a tingling burst on your chest when he caught what you're trying to say, flashing you his adorable gummy smile that lit up his whole face.

"Thank you for the kiss." You cutely poked your cheek with your finger, where his lips were. Then, heat rushed to your face at your own boldness.

***

I've bandaged your bruises

You've held back my hair

Who'd have known when this started

That we'd end up here?

But you reach out and touch me

Say my name like a prayer

All my friends say you're dangerous

But I don't fucking care

- Queen Of The Night, Hey Violet.

Part 2