#could i have spent more energy on this sketch than whatever this is?

[oddthesungod]

when ur watching a show and ur fave shows up (based on the jokey post I made, and also inspired by this immaculate sketch)

[swannieluv]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜ Portraits and flowers- PLATONIC Albedo and Klee x Child!Reader

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 1,4k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: Slight mention of a bruise.

✦⸼࣪⸳ Part II of: Alchemy, bombs... Family?

✦⸼࣪⸳ A/N: HII!! Writing for Klee is so nice, she's just a silly ball of energy. Hope you guys like it!! Also, a friendly reminder that you're free to send whatever thoughts you have about this or my other fics on my asks <3

"Stay still."

These two words had been repeated thousands of times over the last two hours. A single command that should be simple, if it weren't terribly boring to sit in an armchair posing for so long.

"I still don't understand..." Their eyes turned to the back of the easel, which concealed Albedo's work. "Why do you want to make a portrait of me?"

"Because you're our new addition to the family; it's only fair that we have a portrait of you to put on the wall."

He wanted to present them with a painting that he would do himself. Although most of his drawings didn't make it out of the sketch phase because he always found other inspiration and left his unfinished projects lying around, Albedo was clearly making an effort for them.

For Albedo, this wasn't just a gift. It had been a few days since [Name] had joined the small family made up of Albedo, Klee and Alice; although they still hadn't had direct contact with the latter.

They were still adapting to the new reality they were living in, in the midst of a great deal of internal confusion because they couldn't remember anything about their past. That's where the idea for this gift came from, something that would make them feel embraced by him and Klee.

Albedo then returned his attention to the painting. He seemed focused, trying to capture every possible detail in his work and create the best possible representation of the person in front of him.

"It's already a great honor to have the opportunity to be painted by the 'genius' Albedo..."

They teased him in a light-hearted way. Albedo was known to many as a 'Genius'. Something in his mind said that the person who told [Name] about this title was a certain Cavalry Captain with, apparently, too much free time for his liking.

He wasn't particularly fond of being called that, thinking it was a big exaggeration on people's part. Nevertheless, he decided to join in.

"And it's a great pleasure to be able to paint the great Dodoca..." he smiled and looked at the canvas, his eyes analyzing every detail of what he had already done so that he could correct the mistakes.

"The mini terrorist will surely want a portrait if she sees it."

"Mini terrorist? New nickname for Klee, I see."

In a small family of three - or four if you count Alice - Klee was the bomb-maniac little sister. Although Albedo was the one who spent most of his time looking after the little girl, now that [Name] is here, she has been dividing her time between the two of them. Whenever Klee met [Name] along the way she would jump around and show off her new bombs, causing the two to end up in solitary confinement more than five times before even a week had passed since their arrival.

And today would probably be no exception.

"Mr. Albedo!"

Klee appeared as energetic as ever. The girl looked as if she had just returned from her adventures in Mondstadt, adventures she could only experience outside solitary confinement. In her hands was a bouquet of orange flowers: Windwheel Asters.

"I did it! I've collected all the flowers!"

Albedo stared at Klee in silence with wide eyes, his panic inside was apparent. He had agreed with the little girl to deliver the flowers after the painting was finished, not before!

But seeing Klee's sparkling eyes, he could only laugh softly and stroke her head gently. The little girl was really excited to hand over her present.

"Thank you, Klee."

As soon as Albedo's hand left her head, she ran and threw herself over them in a tight hug. Causing some of the flowers in her arms to slip, not that that was a problem at the moment.

The seat didn't have a back support, so as soon as Klee jumped, they both fell straight to the hard floor and remained there completely motionless while hugging each other.

The sound of two awkward giggles echoed around the room. The fall was funny, but a little painful for [Name]'s back.

"That was so fun!"

Klee stood up awkwardly; her backpack weighed a lot, even if she could carry it around. The contents of the backpack? A mystery, she always took the most random trinkets out of it. The only thing you could be sure of was the dozens of bombs she must hide in there every day.

"Klee picked the best flowers she could find! Just for you!" She brought the flowers close to their faces; a sweet but early surprise for [Name].

"You didn't have to..."

They prepared to get up, wiping the accumulated snow from their clothes. Their efforts were met with a gentle hand extended to them, just like the day Albedo and Klee had helped them.

"Thank you."

They accepted the support and were finally on two feet. Their sore backs would probably end up having a few bruises from the sudden impact they had suffered, but they didn't want to have to worry when they were having such a good time.

“Did Klee hurt you? I didn't intend to…” she mumbled under her breath, a hand over her mouth as the worried girl looked at them.

“I'm not hurt at all. It's okay.”

It wasn't exactly the truth, but what heartless person would say that to her? She looked so guilty right now, fearing having hurt her new friend like that.

“You could've used your vision to avoid your fall. Why haven't you done so?”

That was a reasonable question. The fact they wielded an anemo vision and weren't actively using it when needed was quite curious for him; maybe he could get the answer he was searching for. All evidence, from their vision's shape to their past clothing pointed out their origins coming from Snezhnaya.

It would start to make sense if they truly had come from the snowy nation, since they could stand the cold naturally without feeling slightly bothered by the lack of natural warmth inside his lab – unlike Klee, who would complain to no end about how her ears were “freezing” before getting her vision and becoming the walking heater she is – and their effortless pacing around the mountain, when even skilled adventurers would find the area rather hostile for exploring sometimes.

Yet, no answer would be concrete while [Name]’s memories continued to stay locked inside their mind for who knows how long. But even so, Albedo was more than willing to help them and wait for the right time when things will finally become clear.

“I don't know…” they answered with a rather puzzled look on their face. Their hands clutching to the hanging vision on their side.

“It's alright, just take your time.”

He put a hand on their shoulder, it was a reassuring action to make sure they knew he truly meant those words. Behind him was Klee, picking the flowers that fell when she jumped.

“Remember, no one's pressuring you into remembering anything”

Albedo's tone always carried a wave of gentleness with it. Years of taking care of Klee had surely improved his skills when dealing with children, she was the perfect definition of a ball of sunshine that could melt everyone's hearts.

“Yes, thank you—”

“What's this?” Klee’s question caught you two by surprise. She was standing close to the canvas, eyes exploring the painting quickly as if she was searching for something specific. Yet her facial expression showed a hint of confusion. “Oh, a drawing?”

“Yes, I'm important now so I can have one.”

They playfully stuck out their tongue to her, which she responded by leaving the flowers on a table and putting her hands on the hips with a pouting face. Of course Klee found [Name] amazing now that she was their friend, yet it didn't prevent her from feeling slightly jealous of Albedo's attention. Though it was more of a lighthearted, childish kind of jealousy.

“Right, Mr. Albe—”

He was gone.

“Oh.”

Albedo disappeared without saying a word, leaving them both alone in the lab without any kind of explanation.

“Let me see it.” [Name] ran to where Klee was, in front of the easel. Instead of a half done portrait, there was only a sketch.

Two hours, two freaking hours staying still like a porcelain doll for a sketch. It was quite infuriating, but maybe that's how artists worked? They wouldn't know.

“...”

They were so focused on their representation in the canvas that had failed to see the other two faces composing the picture. It wasn't only them; Albedo and Klee were also present in the sketch by their side. Written delicately in a small blank space was the word “family”.

“Family…"

A cozy home, big dinner, and a fireplace. Those images appeared for a second in their mind alongside the face of a familiar woman, but they couldn't remember whose face was that. It was blurred, just like everything else about their past.

"[Name]?" Klee's voice cut their thoughts. She had the flowers in her hands, ready to gift them with it.

Klee finally gave them the Windwheel Asters. A small smile on her face as she placed them carefully in [Name]’s hands. Maybe, just maybe, they were accepting it better than they thought.

“Klee wants you to be happy. Let's be siblings! I promise I won't explode you with my bombs, really!”

This time, though, the one to start the hug was [Name]. Their arms cautiously wrapped around the smaller child, afraid of hurting her somehow.

If Klee was a small flame due to her vision, [Name] would be the calm breeze to carry her with themselves. It's the very concept of siblings, right? Fighting, yet hugging by the end of it all.

“Thank you, Klee.”

[frienderbee]

I wish April was more Kraang-ish in 2012- like if you're going to make her half Kraang mutant whatever, don't just give her cool powers. Just imagine okay:

Her hair is constantly floating slightly, initially in a sort of static way, which confuses her growing up but isn't a major sign of alarm

As she starts to develop and connect with her powers it starts floating a little more noticeably

it reacts to her powers which tend to react a lot to her emotions when she's not consciously pushing for them

because of this the turtles have found great entertainment in annoying April to watch her hair twitch and float around.

They can always tell when she's really mad cause her hair looks like she's been shocked and starts to spark

Because of her emotions effecting her powers and hair before she got a good control of her powers she spent a lot of her time desperately trying to stay calm when in school or in public

Despite how annoying Casey knows he can be he tries to help her stay calm whenever he sees her start to fuss over her hair. (The hair tie she keeps in usually keeping it at bay but not stopping it completely)

The whites of her eye have always been more of an off yellow, green at the edges if you really look. Her dad decided not to mention the way they seemed to glow unnaturally in the dark.

As her powers grew, a pinker hue started to spread in her Iris till eventually her eyes were purple with pink streaks instead of blue

Sometimes she looks in her fathers own blue eyes and wonders if she still looks human enough to pass as his daughter

Her teeth are pointy. Like really pointy. She's never tested how sharp they are (despite Donnies inquiries) but they are definitely sharp enough for her to avoid smiling naturally her whole childhood.

The turtles end up being the first people she finds herself comfortable enough around to let her real smile show (They thought they were cool and didn't question them further)

The turtles actually didn't notice how abnormal April looked and seemed until they met Casey and it clicked that humans usually don't glow slightly when they're happy- yep that one's definitely the Kraang DNA then

Donnie and Casey both briefly had moments where they wondered if they just adored April so much that she looked like she was glowing at times till they realised that sure they love April but she's definitely glowing for real

She's got a weird sort of energy around her, Donnie believes it may actually be the sheer power she holds but April feels more like everyone around her can just sense she's different.

The strange energy around her stopped her from ever really making any friends growing up, even before any of her Kraang features were too noticeable. Everyone immediately picking up that she was "alien", even if they didn't realise how literal that was.

April has no idea how Casey is seemingly immune to this "off-putting vibe"

He's not immune, he felt it but was more intrigued than scared.

The turtles felt it too but just assumed it was cause they weren't used to having a human around that it felt so "off".

Eventually everyone got so used to it that they only really notice this energy when April is using a lot of her power or is using it directly on them.

A very basic drawing I made to try and get an idea of how much about her I'd change. (I am much more a writer than an artist and really this is just for fun and as a way for me to organise my thoughts. I basically traced as much as this as I could from a screenshot)

More sketches of her

[furbygoblinxiv]

So I made a quick oneshot (and accompanying sketch) to get back into the swing of Writing Things, which I've called The Quest For Monster Energy. Featuring three peak lords (tired doctor Mu Qingfang, eccentric brew master Zhang Qingyan, and definitely-not-suspicious logistician Shang Qinghua) coming together to make an energy drink concoction akin to Monster Energy in order to stay awake and complete their tasks.

(I definitely lifted the brewing peak lord name and the beast keeping peak name from this @/tossawary post: https://tossawary.tumblr.com/post/649140398750580736/im-sorry-this-feels-real-weird-but-i-love because Convenience and they've said it's fine before)

Nothing with shipping, nothing explicit or mature, just 4k words of "what if a Victorian child got a hold of monster energy" vibes:

Mu Qingfang had a quest, and once a month, there was a meeting to try to fulfill it.

Shang Qinghua, punctual as ever, was the first to arrive at Mu Qingfang's leisure house right at dusk. With as much time as he spent in the clinic or his personal lab, it was the least used – and thus least cluttered – of the small group's houses. The disciples who cleaned it twice a day were there more than he was, some weeks.

"Shang-shixiong, it is a pleasure as always," Mu Qingfang greeted as the other man sat down and began to unload various small pouches onto the table, next to where Mu Qingfang had already set an assortment of jars. One package had blood splatter on it, which Mu Qingfang ignored. "Has that pain reliever this one sent over worked well for you?"

Shang Qinghua flexed his wrist as he set the last package down, showing off his mobility. "Worked like a charm! No more stiffness or carpal tunnel here!" He grinned, which in the dim lighting, gave an almost menacing appearance when paired with his eye bags and mustache. "How late do you wanna bet Zhang-shimei gets here?"

Zhang Qingyan, lord of the Zui Xian peak of brewing and alchemists, had an unfortunate tendency to lose track of time. She wasn't often intentionally late (ignoring occasions where she was being petty, at least), Mu Qingfang just knew first hand that her laboratory had many small timers yet no overall time keeper. She once claimed that it was just a distraction, whatever that meant.

"I suppose it depends on if she had another chemical explosion," Mu Qingfang responded. "And if she decides to stick around afterwards and clean it, or if she just delegated it onto-"

"HELLOOOO!" Came a cry as the door slammed open, cutting the doctor off.

Zhang Qingyan, one for less propriety than even Shang Qinghua at times, made her grand appearance as if the entire front half of her body was not covered in soot and her hair was not burnt at the ends. Mu Qingfang was only a little shocked she wasn't fully covered, and also wasn't showing up even later. He’d almost call this early for her.

"Sorry I'm a bit late, there was an explosion in the lab again and I had to assign disciples to sort out the mess before I could arrive," she explained as she dropped into her spot at the table and began removing bottles from her bag. "It was necessary to work until the last moment to ensure I was fully prepared for this meeting." With a grin, she removed the last, and largest bottle from her bag. It had a glowing orange liquid in it.

"How are your disciples?" Mu Qingfang inquired politely, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from the strange glow of the bottles that she was sorting on the table.

"The same as always, I suppose! The younger ones have broken a record this year on glass vial breaks, and I caught one of my inner disciples in the middle of a challenge to lick acid yesterday, so they're coming along nicely." She had an eccentric yet caring attitude towards her disciples. If asked, Mu Qingfang knew she'd say she's proud of their tenacity and willingness to test new things. It's part of why she tended to try out new experimental potions on herself as opposed to them the way her predecessor had.

Mu Qingfang wished his lack of student experiments were for the same reason, but his was less out of compassion and more because he couldn’t seem to keep the same group of inner disciples for a long enough period of time to even try to experiment on them. It would be a valuable learning experience for them! They loved being the experimenter, but an important part of being a medic was fully understanding the effects of things! Unfortunately, the moment he thought to ask who would like to test out experimental medicines or new qi blocking techniques, half of them would leave the mountains for personal study or to become an assistant to a specialized peak elder instead. His head disciple refused to even potentially be taken out of commission after lasting this long, and the outer disciples had learned to avoid him when he spent too long on his research.

It was fine, he was okay with going through official channels for human experiments, the slower ones that disciples could opt into for experience. And when that wasn’t an option, well, then he turned to personal experimentation.

"Are they still making a game of sneaking into the alcohol storage cellar?" Shang Qinghua asked, as if he had never done that as a disciple with only Mu Qingfang as an accidental witness. He would have gotten away unseen had Mu Qingfang not been sent there on a dare by his shixiongs for the same purpose.

"With those talismans and arrays that Shang-shixiong helped me with, the new challenge is just finding the cellar in the first place." With a dramatic eye roll, she finally finished sorting the bottles the way she liked. "And you'd be surprised how much that's deterred them."

Shang Qinghua shook his head. "Kids these days know nothing of sleuthing and sneaking," he declared, Zhang Qingyan nodding along.

Mu Qingfang just wished that disciples would stop getting black out drunk and falling off their swords before they even had fully developed brains.

"Enough about the children though!" Zhang Qingyan said. "They're cleaning up the results of my latest and greatest creation! This should act as the perfect base for our concoction," she said, dramatically gesturing to the literal glowing bottle in front of her. "These other bottles are other chemicals and potions that may complement the mixture well. What have you all brought to the table?"

Mu Qingfang gestured to the jars of herbs and small monster parts in front of him. "Since last month, my experiments have shown that Leeching Three Eyed Serpent eyeballs have positive effects on energy and awareness. As well as that, some variants of the herbs I have been cultivating in my gardens have shown enhanced energy signatures when paired with the selectively bred tea leaves this one has been growing."

The other two nodded, both unphased by the strange contents of the jars for entirely separate reasons, so he continued. "This one, however, is still unsure as to whether the presence of the serpent eyes will have an averse or negating effect on the tea like the Sleepless Rhino Explosive Boar horns did last month."

All three of them shuddered at just the thought of that meeting.

Shang Qinghua was up next, and he unloaded an assortment of small items from his pouches as he explained them. "After some talks with a merchant contact, he willingly parted with a stack of talismans designed to keep the victim awake long enough to be tortured." He paused, waiting for any outcry at the torture mention, before he went on and clarified, "I definitely didn't blackmail him for them."

Mu Qingfang, well aware of Shang Qinghua's questionable habits and tendencies by now, simply nodded and stroked his mustache in thought. His shixiong may be shady in his business dealings, but he brought great financial benefits to the sect, and didn't seem to have it in him to betray them. He was a good man, Mu Qingfang wasn't worried. Zhang Qingyan, meanwhile, didn't even seem to pick up on there being anything wrong with what the other man said, instead inspecting the markings on a talisman she took from him.

Moving onto the next pouch, the logistician pulled out a strange trinket, a small blue object with sharp edges. "This, from what I understand from my, uh, readings, is an Everwaking Star Fragment. If this is the object from legend, then it's said that it can dissolve in any liquid, and whoever drinks it is cursed to never sleep again. The last bearer of it, however, was asleep when I found it, next to them and not on their clothing of course, because I would never pickpocket someone who fell asleep poisoned or drunk at a bar. I’m not sure if they had used any of it before then."

Zhang Qingyan's eyes lit up at that, and she snatched it from his hands before he could even protest. "So if the entire thing dissolves in liquid, then what about one small portion of it? Could taking off just the corner of one spike cause eternal wakefulness for just a few days?!" She brought the object up to her eye level as she excitedly murmured to herself about the possibilities.

Of course she was too distracted to pick up on the implication of their shixiong pick-pocketing a drunk person, but again, he was a good guy, and that was none of Mu Qingfang's business.

Shang Qinghua wrapped up his presentation with his usual offerings of vitality enhancing incense sticks (which Mu Qingfang suspected he got from succubi) and what Shang Qinghua called "ground up coffee beans" that he got from trade in the south, but insisted were lackluster alone.

"Should we use Mu-shidi's strongly brewed tea as the base, or Zhang-shimei's great creation?"

Zhang Qingyan thought for a second, staring at the orange glowing bottle in front of her. "The tea. This stuff is pretty strong on its own, and will need to be diluted so that it doesn't automatically stop our hearts or melt our golden cores!"

Mu Qingfang poured the specially brewed tea into a container in the center of the table, and their experiments began.

Once a month, the peak lords from three of the most overworked peaks got together for a late night meeting. Their goal? Create a concoction that gives the drinker both wakefulness and energy to keep going and complete their mountain long list of duties and obligations.

Shang Qinghua called it a quest for the "Monster Energy Drink", which seemed like a fitting name in Mu Qingfang's opinion.

It had started a few years ago, with the doctor approaching the alchemist for something to enhance the tea he already took to keep himself awake for days on end. Things had snowballed when he had accidentally served it to the logistician after helping repair a broken leg. From there, an alliance was born.

Mu Qingfang was a doctor. He knew that it was important to maintain one's body, and that rest and rejuvenation were vital to keeping one's mind sharp. He said as such to Liu Qingge every time the man crashed into the clinic. But Mu Qingfang was also the head doctor of a peak of learning medics, peak lord on a mountain of reckless disciples (and peak lords), in a region of land where people were constantly getting infected or sick.

As much as he knew rest was important, he knew that sometimes, working and saving lives was even more important.

And thus: monstrous energy drink.

Adding the glowing orange liquid into the tea, even just a few drops of it, made the tea go from a dull brown to a glowing dark green. As Zhang Qingyan used her spare potions to work out the right consistency, Mu Qingfang removed some of the monster eyes from a jar and ground it up in his mortar and pestle, and Shang Qinghua attached the energy talisman to the side of the experiment container and dropped a few ground coffee beans in. A moment later, he lit one of the incense sticks and fanned the smoke into the container for a moment before extinguishing it.

After adding the crushed eye to the mixture, it became a brighter shade of green. And when Zhang Qingyan chipped off a corner of Everwaking Star Fragment into the mix, the glow began to pulse.

Having added all they wished to add, and the liquid having not exploded on them yet, they stared at their pulsing creation in awe. Mu Qingfang felt like they had created a forbidden substance.

"That genuinely looks radioactive" Shang Qinghua muttered to himself, like that was a word that made sense. "If a disciple drank this, they'd probably never close their eyes again."

"If a disciple got their hands on this, they would either qi deviate on the spot or enter a coma with their eyes frozen open," Mu Qingfang replied to the only part he actually understood. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how he’d treat that level of…poisoning? in his clinic beyond drastic measures.

"Well, we added all we planned to this beauty and didn't stop to test it along the way, so who knows if it's safe," Zhang Qingyan said as she scooped an empty bottle into the container. Shang Qinghua’s bagged eyes went wide at the sight of the bottle in her hand having the same bright green pulsing glow as the source potion.

"Zhang-shimei, I'm not sure you should-" Mu Qingfang tried to warn, but as always at these meetings, his warnings were not enough to stop the brewmaster from closing her eyes and taking a swig from her glowing bottle.

Shang Qinghua, who usually had pretty controlled (if extreme) facial expressions, seemed to mirror Mu Qingfang's open shock and horror at the move.

A full body shudder racked through Zhang Qingyan, and her eyes flew open with a start. Her vision was unfocused, but then her expression slowly raised to an almost unhinged grin as she stared at the bottle in front of her. Her breathing had noticeably sped up, both audible and from how her shoulders heaved with the motion.

"Boys," she started, not removing her hazy eyes from what she clearly considered her magnum opus. "Prepare to never need to sleep again."

She raised a hand to wipe away at her lip, and already it was shaking so badly that she had trouble aiming for her face.

Mu Qingfang reached for the notepad he kept in his pocket, and recorded down what had been added to the mixture and the immediate side effects. He made sure to note down the violent shaking and lack of focus it had brought his fellow peak lord with three lines under it, and an arrow for good measure.

Shang Qinghua also noticed the quivering. "Oh. Hm. Well, I can't have hands that shake that badly, or I'm gonna have some trouble filing our taxes," he said, laughing as if that were a joke. He pulled some melon seeds out from a bag in his pocket and began to snack and think.

Mu Qingfang was also thinking. There must be an herb or something in this house strong enough to make an impact in this hellish drink they created, one that could stabilize hands and make the sudden onset of energy less overwhelming.

Zhang Qingyan likely was not thinking of solutions, as she was clearly too busy acclimating to the energy rush to think at the moment.

Hand paused halfway to his mouth, Shang Qinghua got an idea. "Mu-shidi, didn't you work with Lin-shimei to make a calming supplement for some raging beasts on Xi Jiao a week or so ago?" He asked, despite having organized the material transfer and thus knowing the answer.

Lin Qingpen, of the agricultural peak Min Nong, was a major help with Mu Qingfang's herb gardens. While her peak covered all kinds of vegetation as opposed to Qian Cao's medicinal focus, her affinity towards plants made it possible for Mu Qingfang to selectively breed for specific attributes of his herbs and plants in the first place.

Reaching into one of the main spacial pouches that he kept on his person, the doctor pulled out the package with Lin Qingpen's note of well wishes still attached. "Shang-shixiong is correct, and this one does in fact have some left over."

Shang Qinghua's eyes lit up at the sight of the pouch, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he smiled. The gesture, for some reason, reminded Mu Qingfang of the over the top villains of the plays he used to watch as a child.

He has been planning on using this powder for experimenting on calming herbal remedies for troubled patients, but he can always request more from Lin Qingpen tomorrow. Mixing a pinch of it into a cup of water, he handed the cup to a still shaking Zhang Qingyan, who downed it without question and only minimal spilling.

"She's got more guts than I do," Shang Qinghua admitted, as if one's guts has anything to do with this experiment process beyond likely being damaged.

After downing the herbs strong enough to calm a rampaging Fire Tailed Dragon Horse down, the effects were almost as fast as those from the initial potion were. Her hands stopped shaking as badly, and her breathing slowed down. A few moments later, her eyes regained focus.

Eventually, she was in a normal enough state that it wouldn't be malpractice if Mu Qingfang needed to perform surgery while under this drink's effects.

"Oh yeah, it definitely needed something to act as a counterbalance, good call," she said as Mu Qingfang recorded the side effects down. "One of you should probably try it with the Restful Temperament leaves mixed in beforehand so we know if those should be taken separately or not."

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable eye contact between himself and Shang Qinghua. The doctor knew that, as suspicious as his business dealings and as often as his physical injuries, the man across from him at the table was a coward. Light glistened off of his face in a way that Mu Qingfang swore was dripping sweat, but he had no way to confirm since the light of the candles and the glowing energy drink were rather low. It was kind of pathetic to watch, in a way.

Sighing, he took an empty bottle from Zhang Qingyan's side of the table and scooped his own helping of the concoction. Dropping a hearty pinch of Restful Temperament Leaves into the bottle, he mixed it for a moment as he tried to wrap his head around what he was about to do. At least it caused no visible changes to the already strange looking drink…

Stored in a hidden pouch against his breast were a handful of incredibly rare panacea style substances that fully cured the body of any curse or poison that may be contaminating it. It didn't work on injuries, and the peak lord only used them for what he deemed catastrophic level emergencies.

He wondered if drinking a glowing liquid in the name of science and staying awake counted as an emergency.

"Oh come on Mu-shixiong, don't back out now," Zhang Qingyan crowed with an almost predatory smile, sensing his weakness. "We've definitely drank way worse drinks at this same table before, right Shang-shixiong?!" She leaned over and elbowed the logistics peak lord, who looked like one more strong elbow to the side would knock him down for good. The other man nodded with a nervous looking smile, still staring at the glowing creations before him.

Staring at the ominous elixir in front of him, he let out a sigh. He couldn't believe he was sometimes referred to as the most responsible of the peak lords.

He took a drink from the bottle.

The first thing he had to note: it tasted abhorrent. He knew it wouldn't be pleasant, given the mix of random plants and monster parts that had been added, but this was leagues worse than even his worst expectations. Despite having a strong stomach, he fought off the urge to throw up and demand to know what Zhang Qingyan had put into the base potion.

Instead, he forced it down with a grimace and mentally mapped every place in the leisure house that stored medicine to help soothe stomach issues. He could have sworn he felt it bubbling all the way down, despite its lack of bubbles, and felt his veins and bloodstream light up as if electrocuted. The fact that Zhang Qingyan had downed this with a straight face was both terrifying and impressive.

Luckily, his mind stayed as sharp as ever, and his hands had no notable shake to them. He made sure to note down these effects and mix some of the Restful Temperament Leaves into the base container of the substance.

"That seems to be as good of a balance as we are going to get," Mu Qingfang announced to both of the peak lords watching him in anticipation and dread.

Zhang Qingyan let out a cheer and took another swig from her Restful-temperament-free bottle, immediately causing her hands to start shaking again.

Shang Qinghua let out a sigh of relief as he bottled his own share of the energy granting monstrosity they had just created. With a quick sip, he muttered “tastes almost like actual monster energy” while shuddering. "Of course, we'll have to keep in touch about potential side effects," he said louder, staring at his bottle and likely calculating ways to market, mass produce, and sell it off if it didn't cause deadly effects.

Mu Qingfang knew that Zhang Qingyan had some pretty strong hangover cure potions that she had amplified, and that Shang Qinghua had poison curing artifacts from grateful trade partners. If there truly were adverse effects, they should be fine, but it'd be important to note for the next time they made an experiment or if Shang Qinghua decided to sell it.

Zhang Qingyan bottled the rest of the container and divided it up between the three of them. "Well boys, barring any unknown side effects, I think we just stumbled across the perfect energy drink." She declared.

Mu Qingfang knew better though. He knew they would find even better energy and sleep alternatives before the month was over. "Same time next month?"

The other two, stashing away their personal bottles, started to pack their things. "Oh yeah, this was just the prototype," Zhang Qingyan laughed as she stood from the table. "Improvements can always be made, we can't be falling asleep during next month’s Immortal Alliance Conference, after all!"

Shang Qinghua let out what may be a nervous laugh as he agreed, but Mu Qingfang was sure it was just the lack of sleep getting to him.

"If we don't see each other again, I'll see you all at the immortal alliance conference," he promised, with affirmations from the other two as they made their way out into the night.

With pleasant calls of farewell made and his leisure house evacuated, Mu Qingfang stared down at the concoction in front of him.

He was a doctor, he knew how important sleep was, and how vital it was to not drink random glowing potions of haphazard mixes of items. And he knew that, as an immortal, he didn't truly need to sleep. But he did need to focus, and he did have work to do.

He took a second swig from the bottle and stood, clearing everything else off of the table. He had the feeling some emergency would be calling him to the clinic any minute now, despite it being well into the night. It had been too calm for too long, which typically meant trouble on Qian Cao.

Extinguishing the lights, Mu Qingfang headed off into the night. His exit left nothing behind save the energy drink, alone and glowing on his table, a soft pulsing light beckoning to any unfortunate disciples who may see it come morning.

[dynamic-k]

If you're accepting asks for this right now, I've always been curious... do you have colors for some of the villains in the Super Sticks AU? Some colors were probably mentioned and I forgot them, but overall I don't remember all of the villains' colors being revealed.

This ask has been staring at me for quite some time, and I did honestly try much earlier to muster up some brain cells to give an answer-

I am always always accepting asks, it's just a matter of me answering on my own time. Theeeeesss one took me a whhiiile~ sorryy

To be honest, if there are not descriptions in the fic or bonus features, than I just don't have a description.

Sometimes, that's how I write. I have the semblances of a character design in my head, but I am definitely more on the word-oriented side of making an AU.

-

I will say that Madame Pop-Up has a pretty heavy design, actually. She was supposed to look a very specific way.

While it might sound strange to hear all at once, that's how it is so deal with it- /silly

-

Madame Pop-Up has a creamy-white [with like- barest hint of pink/red] skin with rosier and more prominent pink patches/splotches.

#fffffa, for the creamy white

#e6b3e5 for the rosy pink

Boots: #b80b45 [Ankle boots or higher, take your pick, she could wear either.]

Gloves: (which go about mid arm length) #fc0859

Poppy flower shade: #fc0820

With yellow middle.

She's supposed to be like a glamourous movie star look. I have yet to decide if I want her canon identity to be famous in that way or not, but it is tempting and matches my envisioned style of her to a T. :]

[The patches should look sorta streaky, like thick stripes. Large brush stroke stripes, of a sort? ]

Think a patches cat. Occasional spots, mostly stripes, a bit random but it looks nice because again: she is very showoff-ish and glamorous.

U U

An intimidating movie-star style though. She terrifies Chosen for a REASON, guys-

Oh and Madame has these color eyes: #bf0d52

-

Those are pictures I found online that match closely with how I imagine Madame's hair. Take creative liberties or variations if you want. 

Oh yeah, hair color: uhhh

[*digging in my worn cardboard box of hexcodes-*]

#520642

There-

-

Now uh-

I DID try to make a sketch.

...It got a little..

...coffee-d. Q Q

..Oops.

[And no, she doesn't have only one arm, I just- Didn't draw it-]

I BLOWDRIED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF THAT PAPER, WE'RE FINE-

I went back to my initial Arc One description, apparently Madame has a mask. I almost forgot about that: Like I said, I'm more word-oriented and delve deeply into plot.. and leave designs lacking sometimes-

I try my best, I'm glad the Ladybug Brothers have solid designs at least-

I'm gonna work equally hard with how the Color Gang will look in Arc Two, but that's still gonna be a while-

Uhh, the mask is..

You know what- 

I am just gonna explain how the style is. If someone wants to draw my OCs, use the style descriptions and go ham with whatever you deem fitting.

:]

I love all my fanart, no matter the 'accuracy' or whatever. :)

-

Uhhm, so let's move on to Mudd.

He is really easy to describe because I spent barely any time making him.

I'd just started the AU and needed some bully guy. And then ended up making him Red's nemesis- By accident-

Okay- XD

Uh.. Mudd has an arm canon on his left arm, and he can use it to funnel his acidic mud wherever he pleases at varying pressure rates.

Due to the acidic qualities, and occasional rocky clumps within the dirt substance, it does pack more of a punch than it might sound.

Mudd doesn't really create mud out of thin air, it's more like he manipulates the dirt around him and makes it into acidic mud via his sweat because I thought the way Bakugo's quirk in MHA worked was epically awesome and took creative liberties-

Then he can manipulate his mud into the arm canon and fire it out quicker than he could utilize effort to thrust it himself. Energy saver.

Uhm. He's a bulky figure. Simple brown-themed costume with maybe occasional black, no cape, generic mask.

There ya go. U U'

-

-

Moving onto the Alcoholic family:

-Vodka and Whiskey, the twins.

-Rum, the mother.

-The Jade Pretzel, the father. [And a british dramatic variant of Jade from A Second's Tale.]

-

-

The twins are the thin, wiry sort.

If anyone is familiar with this Junkrat and Roadhog animation for Overwatch:

Junkrat's build is similar to how the twins are. Actually the hair too, a bit, now that I think about it.

It sticks up and outward a little more for Whiskey; the younger of the twins. 

Take creative liberties with the costumes, honestly. 

All I know is that Whiskey is more greener themed, because his abilities are relatable to the nausea effect in Minecraft.

Vodka is more like...

Pinky browny? 

[*more digging in my worn and torn cardboard box of hexcodes-*]

#a36c6c

Have at thee-

O vO'

-

Rum is a bit more on the deep purple end of color scheme. With a RUM RED littered about as the complimentary color. She is fairly muscular, and has a stockier build than her sons.

-

Now, uh- The Super Sticks variant of Jade-

I found a stick-figure piccrew and made ST!Jade and SS!Jade respectively- [not 100% accurate, but the vibes are present-]

He has a monocle. Canon. You heard it here folks, I HAD to- 

It's got a gold rim, clear glass. 

It's actually attached to his mask, which is green and gold themed, so the monocle doesn't easily get knocked off if he moves too fast or something.

I will.. describe more of him when I actually complete the chapter where the Ladybug Brothers are battling the Jade Pretzel- 

The fight scene eludes me at the moment, so I keep writing more color gang shenanigans for future chapters instead- And probably a good thing too, since the ending homestretch of Arc One really didn't give our Color Quad the spotlight they deserve, so I'm putting more focus on them in Arc Two~

-

Uhhh, and that's it..?

[*brain buffering-*]

...Do I need to describe Primal/Prime a little bit since at one point she played a villain role-

-

Okay, yeah, why not~ 

:]

Primal is cool. She's got emo vibes, but is browner/tan themed rather than black or something you'd find on an emo-stereotypical design. 

She prefers practical over stylish canonically, but ends up appearing rather well-designed anyway, in the eyes of others.

And her hair alternates from side, over-the-shoulder braids, to long back-ponytails on a whim.

Yes, Vic has a side braid too, but it isn't that long so it sticks out sideways in the back, and doesn't touch the shoulder.

Primal's hair is also a different length. It's aboooout mid-upper chest. :)

And that, I think, is all. 

-

...I really hope I don't immediately remember a villain OC I just forgot to speak of after hitting the Post button-

Thank you for the ask, and I deeply apologize for how long this sat in my Inbox. Fret not, your ask vehemently stared me in the face until I was intimidated enough to gather my notes together and some braincells too-

U U

Have a lovely day~

Edit: Do ignore that gloved hand in my sketch.

...Just ignore that. We all know I can't do hands.

I went powerpuff mitten style purely for some saving grace- XD

[aemondsa]

Whats wrong with shipping Aemondsa tho? I feel like its the number #1 Sansa crackship rn (at least in my pov) like I want to ship Sansa with all the fictional characters I like. Heck, i'm honestly just here in the shadows patiently waiting for some big brain author to write a Gojo x Sansa or Geto x Sansa fic 😂

Same! Sansa is my favourite character in fiction and I just like the idea of putting her together with unexpected people and seeing where the vibes take us. ✌️💗

Ooooh, I would be down for a Sansa in JJK universe fic. It could be a fun concept! I know there is a Sansa/Sesshomaru fic and a Sansa reborn in Naruto ‘verse fic. (haven’t read either, but it’s marked for later)

Personally, I like crackship more than any canon ships—they can never let you down, unlike the ships that are fighting for the canon crown. However, as there is an unexpected influx of people who dislike the ship, I made that previous post. I’ll put more details under the cut, so it’s easier to read.

To preface, if someone doesn’t like the ship, that’s okay. I’m not saying everyone should like it. However, lately people have been acting in a way that makes me think ‘damn, y’all really will do anything to be a hater, huh?’

Here’s a break down of some of the things that happened:

There is a… cluster of twitter users who occasionally make posts like ‘if you ship sansa and aemond, I know you have mental problems’ and ‘sansa x aemond shippers are genuinely insane.’ That’s a very odd thing to say about strangers online over a non-problematic ship that exists because people decided to put their favourite characters together.

Same contingent of people insists that J@ce/Sansa is the better ship, and a) somewhat suspicious that you only bring up J@ce/Sansa as a contender when you are putting down Aemond/Sansa; and b) well, if you feel so strongly about J@ce being Sansa’s ‘gallant, perfect prince’ then why not write that yourself? Be your own hero, make the content you want to see in the world. Nothing is stopping you.

Not for the first time, people on tiktok make videos of the ‘why does this ship exist? ew’ variety, but recently, one reposted art and spoke about the context negatively, and had the gall to say ‘found on pinterest, credit to the artist’ and ???? google reverse image search is free and not that hard to use? Fine, you don’t like the ship, but don’t repost an art without credit. Someone with skill and talent spent time and energy to draw and fully render a complicated piece. Creditless reposting is a dick move. (OP eventually deleted their video.)

Another tiktok came out and it used Aemond/Sansa as a punchline of their joke. And fine, whatever, it’s a comedy sketch and not particularly deep, and sure the scandalised ‘Aemond and Sansa?! 😱😱’ were annoying, but it’s the lying that got me. They said ‘I know people get frustrated because [Aemond/Sansa] are all over the main Daem0n/Rh@enyra tag.’ and that is just… not true. Something that can be disproven with basic math: Aemondsa has 78 fics total of which 23 fics are tagged with Daem0n/Rh@enyra ship. Daem0n/Rh@enyra tag on ao3 has 5,272 fics. 23 of 5,272 is *dun dun dun* 0.436%. Not even half a percent. Sooooooo, how exactly is that ‘all over the main tag’? It’s the lying that gets me, you know?

And of course, the casual ‘oh, why is this a ship?’ / ‘I can’t believe people ship this’ / ‘free my girl Sansa’ tags that people add to posts. Why do we ship them? Cause we can. We’re having fun.

(These are just some examples of recent events that irked me.)

TL;DR: People are strangely threatened by a crackship with less than 100 fics in their ao3 tag, like 10 authors to its name, and necessitates time travel to function. Is it really that serious? Why are people more pressed than a juice that a group of Sansa fans also like Aemond and are exploring the idea of them together? We’re practically a fringe movement, given our numbers—it’s not that serious that we exist. We are just having fun with our friends and gushing over our faves. Mind your business and stay out of ours.

[quibbs126]

Helloo, how about a Red Bean cookie and Cinnamon fan kid?

Alright, I feel this one took a long time, but here’s Red Mochi Cookie

I came up with her name quite a while ago (like I think nearly a month ago), so I don’t entirely remember why I called her Red Mochi. I think it was because red bean paste is used in making mochi. Though as I was looking for references for her, I noticed some mochi that looked nearly identical to Red Bean’s head, so I think his name is technically supposed to be short for “red bean mochi”. But whatever, I had already come up with the name. I had found this jello mochi in my search for good red mochi to use, but again, I was keeping the name, since I felt “Jello Mochi Cookie” or “Jelly Mochi Cookie” (to avoid brand names) didn’t really work. Also red mochi isn’t like an actual flavor of mochi, technically it seems to just be strawberry mochi. But again, I was sticking with the name

Jello mochi:

With her design, I knew I wanted to incorporate the mochi into her hair, I just wasn’t sure how to make it look right. But eventually I think I got something good. I also wanted to incorporate the powder I saw on the mochi, so that’s why she’s got some frosted tips. I suppose it wouldn’t really fit in Ovenbreak, but whatever. As for her outfit, while I spent plenty of time working on her shawl, trying to make it a mixture of Red Bean’s coat and Cinnamon’s cape, I have to confess I didn’t really know what to do for the rest of her outfit and I just slapped something together. She’s definitely primarily Red Bean with not so much Cinnamon, but I did kind of try to mitigate that with her pose and some of her abilities/personality

So moving on to that, as you can see, she’s supposed to have some sort of snow magic. This was a product of me trying to think of a way to combine Red Bean and Cinnamon’s skills, and my mind went “snow magic?” so yeah. Unlike Cinnamon (who I think only performs street magic/magic tricks), she has actual magic. I’m not entirely sure what she does with it, but I think what I was going for is that she uses it for shows? She isn’t like a big time performer or anything, but maybe she does small shows. She’s also very fond of penguins and seals, for obvious reasons

Sorry, I don’t really have much to say regarding her. To be honest, today I’ve been feeling pretty tired for whatever reason, and I’m just not really feeling it right now. Maybe it’s because i have nothing to do, or the fact that I was feeling really tired last night. I started making her as well as these concepts during math class, where I had more energy, and I had finished her entire sketch and done a bit of lineart there, so I just decided to finish up now so I could actually put this out. I was really struggling to find something to sketch for the little sketches I put in, because I didn’t just want to leave it blank, and it took me longer than it should to write this description. I think I’m just gonna go chill for a bit now, maybe take a nap and play more Cookie Run

But I hope you still like her regardless!

[infernally-fond]

I keep getting these tragic/beautiful edits of fuckin' Dark Souls on tiktok, and one of them left me with an itch to sketch out a post-BG3 moment in Cania for Pallas. It's poncy and reads like I've been listening to FromSoftware character dialogue on loop because I have.

Raph is only mentioned, so I'm a little hesitant to tag this with him. So, fair warning, his presence is minimal.

——-

Deep below the citadel, on off hours, one could see the condemned souls unwinding from the miserable toil of mining deeper still into the frozen depths. 

Their overseers, a set of fearsome pit fiends with whips of hellfire, had returned to the surface the precise moment their shifts ended. Whatever hunger stirred in them for the wails at the end of a cracked whip did not outcompete the drudgery of supervising such work. And so, the souls too rested. 

Mephistopheles' paranoia did not yet extend to the souls of laborers. Unaware of it though they were, the laborers spent every night with an unparalleled freedom to coexist in each other’s company. 

Pallas visited the Mepistarian mines with some regularity, long since familiar with the mineshaft that lead down into the excavation. She was cloaked in old furs that shimmered behind a gauze-thin aura of hellfire to endure the cold. Hellfire burned a cold white, casting inhospitable starkness into the ice. Without it, there would be no light at all. 

The laborers had no use for fire - no need for warmth, no need for light. 

Pallas gingerly lowered to sit some thirty paces from the bulk of their resting forms, pulling her knees to her chest and watching them with a gentle curiosity.

Mortal souls were fascinating things - perhaps more similar to the recently subdued illithid hivemind than living mortals. They shimmered in cool colors, something like tarnished copper. The newer souls held their shapes better, more consistently. They squabbled amongst each other, occasionally finding the energy to physically fight when free of the fiends’ supervision.

Something seemed to happen over time to change the souls condemned to the sub-city mines. Whatever manner of cruelty resided in the souls lured to the Cold Lord’s promises, sunless centuries immersed in the presence of each other would buffet them into something almost lovely. A strange descriptor, but…

Those with the longest tenure drew softer figures, edges implied and often shifting - a reimagining of self. They would hold form enough to work when the overseers lashed at them with hellfire, but when resting they softened once more, eager to drop a mask of burdensome solidity.

Pallas had seen a litter of pups outside Baldur's Gate, warm and round-bellied, curled up between each other that reminded her of the scene ahead. 

The fraying souls mingled in affectionate twirls together. Not quite a pile - it was more elegant, more artful than that. Like a lazy dance, perhaps. Like watching wind slowly direct a smattering of leaves into a loose coil, always just on the edge of dispersing. 

They spoke to each other in voices unconcerned with identity. Vaguely feminine or masculine, vaguely old or young, some swinging between affectation mid-word. 

Shifting voices murmured gently to each other, twined into one thing, issuing benedictions of "be safe" to each other, to itself - this one thing they made. It was foreign to bear witness to such softness in this or any plane. 

Impressions of hands stroked impressions of temples; a pair of arms curled over what seemed, for a moment, the soft curves of shoulders.

Watching with a waning focus, Pallas wondered if the truer nature of mortality was before her, if some profound distinction would be easily parsed from the visual by someone wise. Halsin might have commented on the connectedness that underlies everything. Gale might have speculated on the specifics of the merging. ("How many arms do you count? I've spotted at least s- oh, seven now.")

Maybe her companions’ echoes of presence had left impressions like a microcosm of the merging before her well within her own mind. An imagined insistence for safety, received and given in an even cadence. 

"Do stay safe."

The voice, impossible to categorize on any spectrum of mortal description spoke just beside her shoulder. Startling as the proximity should have been, she felt the words as if they were gentle touches down the crown of her head. 

Pallas parroted the words clumsily, strangely certain this was what was appropriate. 

The spirit, softened at the edges, almost transitory across moments, affected some quality that implied an emotional warmth. It suffused the rigid boundary of self asserted by her living soul. It settled at her side, unmoving, at ease.

The murmuring dance of souls before her synchronized in a song with such precision as to suggest the presence of a conductor. The singing was always lovely. It's what drew her down here time and again.

No one voice was particularly ethereal - it wasn’t a bard’s talent on display. It was connectedness. Each of the component souls sung in a series of dearly remembered voices simultaneously. To hear it was to bear witness to choruses of families - blood and chosen - across time. 

The Canian fiends didn’t sing like this. They sang, of course- but their hymns were demonstrations of technical mastery of the performer, written to exalt the domineering qualities of the subject. The High Cantor’s voice was clear and clarifying as ice cold water, impossible to replicate, objectively beautiful. But, even so, hymns for the Cold Lord’s pleasure were sterile accolades.

Impossibly different (better - an inner voice whispered) were the twining chorus of treasured voices lacing together into something that would wring tears from any mortal to hear it. 

A curl of satisfaction tightened in her chest. Pallas privately enjoyed finding pride in the distinction between herself and the fiends around her. Maybe the cambions, vicious as their treatment had primed them to be, mourned the wrong loss. 

“We’re unlike them,” Pallas whispered resolutely, chasing the bitter joy of her conclusion as she proudly overlooked the twining selves performance. “They’re repressed shells. They live devoid of beauty outside of pointless, showy intricacy. They don’t even sing properly.”

The form before her smiled without a face to do so. It knocked gently against her shoulder with an impression of a humanoid form, unbothered by the thin veil of hellfire. When they touched she felt its fondness expressed in something akin to temperature.  

“Everything that sings, sings properly,” the soul chided, smoothing over each spike of irritability expressed in the flicker of hellfire with more of that fond warmth.

Pallas accepted the correction silently, never moving her eyes from the ongoing dance. The true danger of this place was combating the compulsion to fall asleep to the gentle chorus. Skilled as she was, Pallas couldn’t maintain the hellfire through sleep. 

Perhaps to fight off the sleep or dismiss another burgeoning wave of formless yearning, Pallas pondered the High Cantor’s songs once more. Perhaps they weren’t all militant ballads. And then, there was Raphael, of course. He -

She shook her head as if to physically dislodge the thought. Still, a fragment of memory flashed- his distinctive, idle humming just under his breath as he shifted papers in his exorbitant lodgings in Wyrmm’s Crossing. Casual, improvised. (Unfit.)

Pallas wondered how such a thing could be branded into her hindbrain, as immediately recognizable as the pull of hellfire. And then hadn't she seen him bent over a journal, consumed with intensity, quill flicking so quickly as to render the penmanship unsalvageable?

That didn't make sense. It dashed across the distinction Raphael himself would assert-

“Be safe, friend.”

The formless soul beside her lengthened in shape, as if to mimic rising to a stand. She leaned into the parting wash of fond warmth before it parted from her to join with the others, a new chorus of voices added to the song. Among the additions, it weaved in the recalled fragment of that absent hum, forever integrating some distant shadow of Raphael with the formless inertia of whatever this tangle of mortal souls had become.

[frogsandfries]

I actually had a great fucking evening, surprisingly

My sister took me to a trail by surprise and I didn't dare to hope preemptively, but my body still works! I knew it wasn't just being fat--I knew something massive changed after having covid. This proves it to me. Like my sister said, I struggled out on the ice cave path (which was a few thousand feet even higher than I've been living). But this walk, I was finally able to walk at my own pace without worrying about the pain of breathing (until it got really really cold; I didn't expect my respiratory 'allergy' to cold to go away).

Then I proceeded to get a sporadic lecture about my horrifically poor relationship to food. I kinda deserve it; I'm the one who minded her relationship with food from afar for years, but I made no moves to improve my own. It's hard when food hurts more than it helps. Sometimes it's just easier to go hungry.

Anyway, even bigger than that, I figured my cats might have some pent up energy from being trapped in the bedroom for two weeks now, so I borrowed one of the lesser used toys from my sister's cats and my girl decided that it was hiss and growl at a fucking toy time. I hissed back at her and she stopped hissing, but she kept growling. She hasn't growled during playing with me since she was an older kitten; I'm less worried since she was her regular angelic self afterwards. Besides, she's warming right up to my sister (traitor lol), which is rather promising.

We're most likely going to at least get the shit out of the truck I think this weekend fucking finally. We're also going to have to figure out how to move her stuff. It would make the most sense just to use the truck; empty my stuff out. It'll be easier now that my respiratory system works and we aren't hauling shit up and down three floors. We did that in about a day. Do that Saturday, load her stuff Sunday. Just dump all of it more or less in whatever room is at the back of the house and figure it out from there.

I spent so much time living in such a dangerous city, I keep imagining that someone with ill intent is going to come upon the truck and just take what they want. And after how rainy it's been, I'm also concerned about water damage. We went to this gas station to see if I could use the ATM (I maxed out my withdrawal limit oops), and my sister was sketched out about it and I was like, this gas station ain't shit.

I am quite sad that I didn't get any beading done, and I wish my current work space had enough space to bead in while I'm at work. I could make insane progress on this piece. Next paycheck, I really need to get a chair. Like I left myself no choice. I think I'll start by getting the gaming chair; then I'll get the kneeling chair later. Thank gawd I threw out that old chair. It really did have to go.

I also can't wait to be in a space where my sister's cats can be disallowed and I can worm on my work. I've got like five thousand ideas for these seed bead plushies. After Eeyore, I want to make a Catbus, Jiji, and Luna and Artemis, and hey, since I'm collecting animated cats, let's get the Cheshire Cat from the Disney animation. I'm going to make my own Kanga and Roo patterns; Stitch and Scrump, and Cheshire Cat. I also want to make a seed bead BJD a la oksana_somati. So. Let's see how far I get on this before something else takes my attention (probably my depression, like I've conjectured before).

This beadweaving thing is something from my childhood fantasies. I always wanted to figure out how to make cool things with seed beads. I've wanted to make my own plushies for the longest time as well.

I need to acquire a decent tool that emits heat. I'm going to shrink wrap my sculptures and cut the wrap off to get the shapes for the plushies I'm going to design.

[vex-bittys]

(you messaged me that Tumblr ate my ask so I'm sending it again lol)

I had sent a request for a match up a couple years ago but when I went back to find it so I think Tumblr ate it, but life changes so maybe it's a good thing.

I'm in my 20s and have some issues with anxiety and depression. I work at a daycare with 2 year olds and I'm currently trying to get the motivation to go back to college but I'm not sure if I still want to pursue the same degree. I enjoy writing, drawing, listening to music and most of my free time is spent playing Minecraft.

I have some parakeets, a Uncorrupted Nightstriker lamai named Keiran from Sketch's exotic Bitty adoption, and an Edgy that I found and adopted a couple of summers ago named Chester.

I think that's everything, thanks!

(Your asks must be delicious with Tumblr chomping them left and right!)

My recommendations for you are:

Papython (UT!Papyrus): If you're looking for motivation, look no further than your friendly neighborhood (or literally adopted into your home) Papython! He's full of encouragement and a natural positive aura, which make him an excellent companion for people with depression. As a bonus, Papython is very sweet and gentle, so you could take him to work with you!

Corny (UT!Sans): Corny is an easy to care for lamia who will do his best to keep you smiling with terrible jokes and harmless pranks. Cornies are very low energy and prefer just hanging out and watching you do whatever you're up to. Who knows? He might even open up both eyes and become fully awake to play Minecraft with you!

Honey Bo (US!Papyrus): It takes time to earn a Honey Bo's trust, but if you can do that, he's a great companion. While he does occasionally need time for himself, he will always be perceptive of your moods, and if you need him, he is a good listener. Honey Bos are more than happy to bond with their adopters over music. He might even make you a playlist!

*I specifically selected lamia bitties who would get along with an Edgy. While a Chain can accept an Edgy, he will disapprove of biting behaviors, and this may cause an issue between them. Papythons, Cornies, and Honey Bos all enjoy chilling and watching or playing Minecraft.

*Let me know if you'd like an adoption scenario!

[hangovercurse]

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were  great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

[pandawriterstuff]

Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

[korissideblog]

ohhh i'm lowkey very proud of this one <333

sillie little characters: Hiroharu [@compoundhero ] Michiko [@residentquirksupport ] and Ikuto [@the-heartbeat-hero ] <3

i didn't finish all the sketches i wanted for this fic, but i also wanted to get it out today, so maybe i'll reblog it or edit it later with the drawings <3 there are like two that i finished on time, but ahugghieisdifs whatever. it's officially midnight and i have work tomorrow <3

(also, if heartbeat-hero is reading this, thxs for reading over it for me, and i changed the ending a tiny bit so you could have something new to read <3)

“And then he’s going to put the ring on you-”

“But the ring is poisoned.” “Yes, we’re not gonna let it touch you. We’ll be there before anything happens.”

“Alright and- you can go tighter than that Mich.” Aito said, looking over his shoulder to Michiko, who was busy tying Aito’s corset.

“Any tighter and you won’t be able to breathe. You’re gonna be wearing this for longer than you think.” Michiko warned, tying the knot as flatly as she could. “Plus the dress is already fitted, if your waist gets smaller the fabric would look baggy.” Aito fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned back to Hiroharu.

“You know Jeje, I thought you would have brought me a gift.” She said, crossing her arms. “New silverware or something.”

Hiroharu closed the file in his hands as he looked at Aito in confusion. “Why would we have done that?”

“Because!” Aito said, walking to the other side of the dressing room, passing Ikuto- who’s been nervously rearranging Aito’s bouquet for the last 20 minutes- and unzipping a huge dress bag. A short but fluffy white dress spilled from it, and Aito unhooked it from the hanger.

“I’m getting married!”

______________________________________________________________

Aito was kinda spacing out a bit.

In his defense! He’d already done the walking-down-the-aisle-over-pretty-rose-petals bit, and that’s all he was really looking forward to at his wedding.

He knew Haru and Michi and Iku would be here any moment to break up the arrangement, but he had to play it cool, smiling and giggling at her groom as he read his vows.

Haruto Suzuki, better known as the White Phantom, was Aito’s target. He was cunning and malicious and a hopeless romantic to anyone who could get ahold of his list of ebooks. Aito spent almost half a year in this role-Ichika Yokoyama, for the time being- and worked a bit harder than necessary to get close to Suzuki. She just liked her cases ending with a bang, and what was more exciting than a wedding?

______________________________________________________________

Hiroharu listened intently to the wiretap under Aito’s dress, trying to time the ambush while the support team rounded the back, ready to catch any of the villains in attendance. The support team was being led by Michiko over radio as Haru focused on Suzuki.

“-I promise to always remember that you are indeed human. That you may sometimes make questionable decisions, decisions I don't agree with, like when you got a red velvet wedding cake when I asked for vanilla”

The reception laughed and Haru could hear Aito smack Suzuki’s hand playfully. At least she was staying in character.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve always been like that, headstrong and sure of yourself in ways I could never be. You’re always right in the end- red velvet is my favorite flavor, I was just worried about other people’s opinions.- and… and I think that’s why I love you, Ichika.”

“I don’t think I would poison someone if I loved them.” Ikuto huffed, trying his best to stay in his chair in case pacing would alert anyone to the ambush.

Hiroharu remembered the call well. The one where Aito told him that he found messages between Suzuki and another villain, messages describing how Suzuki knew that Aito was speaking to someone behind his back. Secret calls to Michiko and Ikuto about the mission turned into hidden calls from a lover in Suzuki’s eyes, and he was going to take his revenge. Hiroharu was ready to pull Aito out of the mission then and there but… Aito wanted to continue.

“He didn’t tell me that he knew.” she reasoned. “If the wedding goes as planned, there’ll be at least 3 villains in attendance, as well as a few people who might have information that we need! He’s not gonna kill me before the wedding, so let’s keep going!” Hiroharu hated this plan, but Aito was stubborn enough to get her way.

Hiruharu noticed a slight change in Suzuki’s voice, silently getting Michiko’s attention with a wave of his hand. The vows were about to end.

“And that’s what today is all about… it’s not about arguments over cakes or venues or honeymoons… it’s about getting past all those arguments and realizing that… that I would go through a thousand more if it means I get to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

And Aito laughs, tears threatening her makeup as she gives the signal that the ring is in his hand- it’s time to go.

______________________________________________________________

The small reception turned to face the doors of the building as the heroes crashed through it, but the entire room stood still as the scene settled.

There he was, Aito Takao, Ichika Yokoyama, the blushing bride… with a golden band on her finger.

Aito’s eyes drooped a bit, as if she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Her hands clutched weakly at Suzuki’s lapels as she tried to regain her balance, his breathing getting heavy as he tried to stand up straight. “H-Haru…?” she asked just above a whisper, nobody sure of which one she was talking to as her body leaned back and she fell to the floor, limp as a corpse.

… a corpse…

Hiroharu could… he could feel Michiko’s hand clutching his wrist, but it was like he was remembering it, not like it was happening currently. Like he was asked to describe what happened as he watched his friend collapse into a pile of lace and satin, white and cold like a dead dove. Asked to describe the feeling of loss as he felt Ikuto slump onto his shoulder, holding onto his sleeve as if he couldn’t stay upright, like his body told him to meet Aito on the floor. Asked to describe Aito, her breath shaky and pained, the last one leaving her chest like a deadly flower wilting.

Something wicked… but also delicate in it’s own way.

What Hiroharu couldn’t describe was the sound. He knew there was silence, the telltale ringing of the room as no one dared inhale, as if Aito’s death would proceed all of their own, but there was also something else.

There was laughter.

Laughter Hiroharu recognized well. Notes and melody that he could recall from his high school years, a finger pointed at him as his friend laughed at whatever trick she had just pulled.

And oh what a trick he had pulled.

Aito sat up lazily, looking up at her groom- the villain shocked and nearly shaking as he looked down at his corpse bride- laughter spilling from her lips like blood as he gazed at the man in black through her eyelashes, batting them playfully as he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, right?” He asked, one hand sneaking under her skirt. “Thought you could just kill me- didn’t wanna talk out our issues, baby?” He spat, his teeth pearly white and dangerously sharp as she smiled. From under her garter she produced a short poll, which when swung extended into his iconic golden colored staff. Aito took the ring off his finger as he stood, holding it up to Suzuki like a prize.

“I switched the rings~”

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t believe you did that.” Ikuto sighed with exhaustion, the fight was finally over, looking over the party as Michiko and the support team made quick work of arresting everyone involved. “I was so scared- I thought you died.”

Aito shrugged and continued eating the small slice of red velvet cake he somehow managed to salvage after Haru threw a guy into it. “That happens sometimes. Who’s feeding Jiji while I’m away?” He asked, as Ikuto realized that Aito really didn’t know what he did wrong, and also realized that he didn’t have the energy to explain.

“One of your neighbors. She’s like 2 doors down-“

“You got Hasegawa to feed Jiji!?” And now it was Ikuto’s turn to roll his eyes at something he saw as minuscule. “I hate her! You know that!”

“You don’t have to like her for her to feed Jiji.” Ikuto responded, his dismissal similar to Aito’s. Aito responded with her usual dramatics, shoving his plate into Ikuto’s hands as he turned to the gift table, sorting through the things that could be evidence (all of it) and the things he wanted to keep (also all of it). He held up a little envelope, and read the words on the front aloud. “Suzuki, for you and your new wife- and two bodyguards.” He tore it open with curiosity and four tickets fell into his hand. “Oh they‘re for-“ Aito gasped quietly as he read the name on the ticket, immediately holding it out to Ikuto. Before Ikuto could actually read the tickets, Aito stepped away and jogged over to Michiko.

“Mich~” Aito sang, holding up the tickets, but failing to catch Michiko’s eyes as she watched through the open doors, Suzuki in handcuffs being escorted into a large black SUV. “guess what?”

“Do you… Aito?” Michiko started, as if she was unsure about whether she wanted the answer to her question or not. “He… I know he’s a villain and he’s done terrible things but…” she leaned her head so she could see the SUV drive away. “He thought… I mean… he really thought he was going to kill the love of his life today.” she held herself, as if just the thought of it brought a coldness that would make her shiver. “I mean could you even imagine-” and then… she looked at Aito. Aito, with his droopy yellow eyes, completely unfazed by what Michiko was describing.

She knew Aito could love. She knew that Aito loved his mama, and Ikuto like a brother, and she knew that Aito loved her and Haru like best friends but… given the blank stare… she wasn’t sure if Aito…

“You dated him for half a year- Aito, he even asked you to marry him.” Michiko said, trying her best to describe her ideas in a way that Aito could understand. “That whole entire time did you ever… you know…?” Aito seemed as though he was about to respond, but paused, as if he really wanted to think about his answer.

“He… he really had a thing for poker.” she started, watching as the last of the SUV slipped behind the horizon line. “He’d play with his friends and… if he won big he’d…” Aito raised her hands gently, as if holding something delicate. “He’d buy me a dozen roses… and he’d tell me I was on his mind. That I was his good luck charm.” he laughed, recalling how silly it all sounded. “And… for just a moment… I’d forget it was all a job.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Both of the women jumped a bit as Haru came up from behind them, quickly turning to face him and forget their prior conversation. “Ikuto said Aito found something and she wanted to show us.”

“Ohh Boss!” Aito chirped, immediately snapping out of whatever mournful spell him and Michi were under. “You’d never guess!” she then held out the four tickets for them to examine. “Pack your bags! I know where we’re going next!!!”

[mister-supernova]

If I Saw You on the Street

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader - Platonic Josie Saltzman x Reader

After Malivore

For as long as you could remember, summer vacation was your absolute favorite time of the year. To your surprise, it’s actually been a huge drag for you this year. It wasn’t like this was the worst summer ever--you could think of a few others that could take that spot--but there was definitely something off that you couldn’t piece together. 

For instance, no one has any idea as to how Landon destroyed Malivore, not even Landon himself. That whole day seemed to be a huge blur to all of the students. You remembered the bigger events like the school defeating Triad, but everyone seems to struggle when it comes to the smaller details.  

In order to keep yourself busy, you decided to stay at the school and take a summer job at the Mystic Grill. Besides the fact that everyone else was back home with their families, the whole school had this off-putting sense of emptiness. The place has magic in the walls for crying out loud, you usually feel some sense of liveliness. 

There was this one room in particular that you felt strangely drawn to. You had no idea why since you knew that no one stayed in that room this past year. At least, no one you knew anyways. 

One day out of pure curiosity, you picked the lock to that room to see what was special about it. 

Just as you expected, it was just a regular empty dorm that was probably going to be taken up by a new student during the fall. It looked like every other bedroom at the school, but this one felt familiar. 

Something that caught you off guard was the scent that faintly lingered in the room. The best way you could describe it was something floral with a hint of sweetness and spice--vanilla and cinnamon maybe--and it wasn’t like anything else you had smelled in the school before. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave for the longest time. The urge to stay and wander trumped over the obvious choice that was to walk away. 

Something happened here, you thought. 

A few small drops of pastel blue paint chips stained the wooden floorboards and you wondered how the hell they got there given the rooms have white walls. 

Instead of questioning it any deeper, you just assumed that a student who had this room before must’ve gotten the paint on the floor and the janitors hadn’t noticed it. 

But how could they have missed that? 

You stood there for what felt like hours, trying to piece together what it was that made this place have this unexplainable affect on you. You could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day digging through your brain for an answer that would never come. 

At the end of the day, you knew nothing would come to mind no matter how hard you tried. It was like the answer was at the tip of your tongue, but your mind was radio silent.

Frustrated and defeated, you had to force yourself to leave the strange room. After that, you made yourself forget about that place completely for the rest of the summer and refused to ever return to it.  

Whenever you weren’t at work, you spent time with Landon, Josie, and a wolfed-out Rafael which was fine in the beginning. Dorian gave you permission to shift in the woods on full moons for the summer so that Raf could talk to somebody and you guys could possibly get information on how to help him. 

He definitely appreciated the company that you could provide, but alas he had no idea on how he could be turned back. 

The happier times were the nights you four had weekly movie nights by the Old Mill. You all would alternate who would pick the movie to watch and Landon absolutely hated that you chose a horror movie every single time, but you loved hearing the phoenix boy screech with terror. Josie would get a good kick out of it, too and you were positive that you’d see Raf wag his tail every time Landon screamed.

During those small moments, things felt like they could possibly get back to normal, but once you stepped foot back in the school, you were lost again. 

Your thoughts were much louder through the night. It would get so bad that you could barely get any sleep and the times that you would, you’d wake up screaming from a night terror. 

There was one night when you were tossing and turning, you knocked on Josie’s door to ask if she knew some kind of incantation to get you to fall asleep. You were up for anything at that point, even letting her swing a frying pan over your head to knock you out.  

Not wanting to hurt you or possibly kill you, Josie made you some sleepytime tea instead which actually helped a lot. It didn’t help so much with the vivid dreams you’ve been having, but you thought that it was better than getting no sleep at all. 

Everything felt like it was going decently well until Raf decided to bow out once Josie and Landon started getting close. You wanted to curse at him for making you the third wheel, but you understood that he couldn’t wait here forever for some solution that could help him become human again. He had to move on somehow, especially seeing that his best friend seemed to be moving on, too.

Regardless, you started feeling awkward hanging out with just the two of them. They wanted to include you during their weekly movie nights, but you’d just make up some excuse that you had to be up early for work the next morning. 

Landon--damn him for knowing your work schedule--could tell that you were bullshitting, but he didn’t want to force you into doing something you didn’t want to do. 

You tried busying yourself with other activities like running through the woods, canoeing in the lake, taking extra shifts at work, binge eating all the good snacks in the kitchen; you even got yourself into drawing and painting for some weird reason, but no matter what you did, there was still something missing. 

Towards the end of the summer, you didn’t feel like your usual jokester self. Sure, you’d throw out a line of sarcasm or make a witty comment here and there, but most of it would sound forced. You’d mainly do it so that Josie and Landon wouldn’t worry about you so much, but Josie quickly picked up on your facade. 

They really wanted to help you figure out what was making you feel this way, but as much as you appreciate their help, there was nothing they could do. How could they figure out what was wrong if you didn’t even know for yourself?

One day after your shift at work, you decided to do something you never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever do. 

You started cleaning your room. 

Josie volunteered to help even though you assured her you’d be fine doing it alone. She bribed you by saying she’d buy you a milkshake if you let her help, so without another word, you agreed to let her stay and assist.

“Gosh, do you throw out any of your old assignments?” Josie asks as she rummages through your desk drawers, “This is an algebra one paper from three years ago, Y/n,” she says, flashing your old homework assignment with a huge F circled in the front. 

“Hey, less judging and more cleaning.” You say, digging through your dresser for clothes you don’t wear anymore. 

“Did you try writing a reminder for a history test or something?” 

You furrow your eyebrows before turning to look at Jo, “What do you mean?”

“You have this post-it note that says “Don’t forget H”, but that’s all that’s written,” she holds up the note and from the other side of your bed, you read exactly what she had said. 

It definitely looked like you tried scribbling another letter after the H, but it ended up being a long messy squiggle, “Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug, “Probably. I must’ve been half asleep when I wrote it though because I have no clue when I did that.” 

Josie puffs her lip out in confusion, “Well. I would be surprised by that, but judging by the ten cans of energy drinks I just tossed out, it’s not so surprising to hear that your memory is a little fuzzy.” 

You drop your jaw in shock, “Is today Judge Y/n Day and I wasn’t made aware of it? You asked to help clean my room Jo, now save your judgments for another day please.” 

Josie playfully rolls her eyes at you, followed by a small chuckle, “Toss?” She asks, ready to crumple the piece of paper up. You take a second to answer back, wondering whether or not if you did forget some history assignment or maybe something even bigger than that. 

“Sure,” you feel your stomach churn seeing her throw the note in the trash bag, but there was no taking it back now. 

Another few minutes of silence pass until Josie speaks up, “Since when do you draw?” 

You look back up from your clothes to see Jo now holding up a sketchbook you snagged at the lost and found a few weeks ago. It was brand new and untouched, so you thought to yourself “why not?”. 

After explaining that to Josie, she flipped through some of the first few pages. You were no Leonardo DiCaprio--or whatever that painter guy’s name was--but you thought you were decent with your sketches. 

“These are really good, Y/n. Did you just think of these by yourself?” She asks, talking about the drawings you had of a girl you’ve been seeing in your dreams. 

You could only see parts of the girl’s face. Mostly you’ve only been able to clearly see features like her eyes and hair, so most of the pages were taken up by a pair of blue eyes and waves of auburn hair. 

“Not really. I’ve been having these really vivid dreams lately.” You tell Josie.

“This is who you see?” She looks down at the pages again, “Who is that? She doesn't look like anyone we know.”  

“Yeah, I don’t know either. She’s all I’ve been seeing, though.” 

“Well, it looks like you’ve found yourself a hidden talent.” Josie smiles, gently setting the book back down on the desk, “And maybe she’s your soulmate,” she teases. 

You just roll your eyes with a small smile and get back to your tasks. 

Like a girl that beautiful could even exist let alone talk to me, you think to yourself. 

As you continue sorting through your clothes, you notice a pair of sweats that look almost smaller than half your size. 

“Uh, Jo?” She turns to your attention, “These aren’t yours, are they?” 

She raises an eyebrow at you, “How short do you think I am? I think my legs are a little longer than whoever those are.” 

“Well, they’re not mine, obviously. How’d they get into my drawer?” 

“Maybe they belonged to whoever lived in this dorm before you?” Josie shrugs.

“But the dresser was completely empty when I moved in,” you think for a moment, now questioning everything, “At least, I thought it was. I would think that I would’ve taken these out if they were here. Why would I keep a pair of sweatpants that I don’t fit in?” 

“You do a lot of questionable things, you know. Like that one time you jumped through a bonfire wondering how hot it really was or when you tried to do a backflip off the roof of the school and into the pool or the time you “drank” a beer through your-” 

You raise your hands in surrender and cut her off before she could finish, “Okay, I get it! I do stupid shit. The sweatpants belonged to whoever lived in here before I moved in and I didn’t take them out of the drawer. Case closed. Swiftly moving on.” 

You were positive they weren’t there when you moved in, but there weren’t any other reasons you could think of as to how they got into your dresser. 

Seconds before you tossed it back into the bottom of your drawer, your nose barely caught the same sweet and spicy floral scent that you recalled smelling in the strange room. Breathing it in again brought back that memory of being mentally lost in that room, but oddly enough this time it made you feel calm. 

After another hour passed you and Josie ended up filling three bags of trash, one of them recycled trash, and one large donation box of clothes. 

You didn’t waste any time reminding her that she owed you a milkshake. She kind of hoped that you would’ve forgotten about your deal, but she was a woman of her word.

You made a “compromise” to take your box of clothes over to the donating center on the other side of the town square while Josie bought the milkshakes. 

Your task was a lot quicker than Josie’s since it was pretty much rush hour at the Grill right now, so you waited for her on one of the benches in the square.

Sitting by yourself with nothing else to do but wait, you couldn’t help but feel that empty feeling return. The emptiness never hit you all at once, but it definitely drained the hell out of you. 

Again, you felt stumped. Like there’s somewhere you should be or something you should be doing or someone you should be with. You knew Josie was going to be back any minute, but that wasn’t what was missing. 

You anxiously looked toward the Mystic Grill, feeling your breaths becoming more and more shallow as every second passes. You started wishing Josie would walk out so that all your worries could just go away. 

Then--almost like you knew right where to look--your gaze stopped when you noticed someone looking at you from where you just came from on the other side of the town square. 

You couldn’t make out her facial features from so far away, but it was the auburn color of her hair that stuck out to you more than anything. For a moment--and just for a moment--all the weight that had been weighing on your shoulders this summer felt much lighter and everything felt okay again. 

“One cookies and cream milkshake,” Josie’s voice startles you and you face her abruptly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles, lending you your milkshake.

“No, you’re good. I was just…” you look back to the spot you saw the girl only to find that she was gone, “I was just lost in thought.” 

You had no idea what just happened or how you seemed to have possibly seen the girl from your dreams, but just a glimpse of her made you feel more emotions than you have all summer long. Because of that, a huge part of you hoped that you would see her again. 

~

heyyyyyy beautiful people! thanks for over 100 likes on This Isn’t Goodbye you guys gals and nb pals! i’m super super happy that you’ve been enjoying this series so far! still have no idea how many more parts this will be just yet lol but i really appreciate every one of you for the love <3  

*also the title was inspired by the song Dreams Tonite by Alvvays in case you were curious ;)*

taglist: @chicken-wang09​ @trikruismybitch​ @sodangtired​

[bettertomorrows-ao3]

Are You My Mother?

Ellie is frantic. Dina is amused. JJ has some questions.

JJ stays still in Ellie’s arms and his teeny voice is muffled when he says, “Max said you’re not my real mom so we’re not a real family and that you only fake love me.”

Tags: Post-Game, Family Fluff Rating: Teen for language

EllieDina Week // Day 4 // FAMILY

---

It’s almost sundown when Ellie gets a visitor at work.

Her office is a medium-sized shack located near the stables of the main gate, a perfect place to house all the paperwork she needs in order to facilitate her new role as the patrol manager. Ellie had originally argued with Maria that the chore didn’t even exist, that it seemed like a feeble arrangement to give her a task somewhat similar to what she was used to just so she could still feel useful around town.

Maria admitted to some truth to Ellie’s point, but she also insisted that she would love for Ellie to start learning to ropes of leading the town. There was a buried emphasis in her request that suggested Maria only trusted Ellie to be the one to succeed her role in the future. That Ellie was already deeply embedded in the tangled mess of a family the Miller brothers left them with—and implication was what led Ellie to accept the job on the spot.

Managing patrol rotations is not the laid-back kind of job Ellie thought it would be.

It’s far more stressful than what Maria initially described it would be, but it’s a task that keeps her on her toes on a daily basis. It was hard to believe it at first, but rescheduling patrol rotations sometimes felt like hugging an exploding bloater. Not to mention how balancing patrollers with the right partners oftentimes resembled the act of gathering sheep into a barn. One wrong move, and a stray could lead the pack in the wrong direction.

Jackson’s townsfolk always knew she would have the job in the future, anyway. There was a tacit understanding that regardless of the complications of their familial relations, Maria’s niece would one day take over the duty of leading Jackson. It was never a question of whether it would ever happen, but more of when Ellie would feel comfortable to take on these responsibilities.

It came as a surprise to those who personally knew her—that Ellie would start making her way up before she was even in her thirties. Most of them thought they would have to wrench a 100-year-old Ellie away from patrolling duties, so to have her willingly take a job inside Jackson’s walls was a bit unnerving.

The desk job isn’t as exciting, but it’s definitely enough work to keep her busy throughout the week. Her favourite part of the job was toward the end of the day. When her last task was to wait for the afternoon patrols to come back home, and she spent the time quietly drafting ways to adjust routes for possible expansions to the town. Nothing felt better than to wrap up a workday with a glint of hope for a better future for her son.

Ellie is knee deep in concentration, head down studying a map and ready to sketch out a new patrol route when a knock on the door breaks her focus. It’s Andres, Dina’s new apprentice at the electric shop, a gangly young man whose family recently moved to Jackson. His presence immediately makes Ellie panic. They’ve only met three times since Dina hired him, and their interactions have been cordial at best. So, what else could warrant his appearance at her office at the end of the day if it weren’t for something urgent?

“Hey, uh… Ellie. A-are you busy?” he croaks out, Ellie can tell he’s nervous, but what for she’s not sure yet.

“Andres, right?” she asks hoping to calm his nerves even though she knows exactly who he is, “what’s up?”

“D-dina sent me t-to tell you to please… go to her house as soon as pos-possible once you’re finished with work,” Andres stutters out, making Ellie all the more concerned.

Ellie stands up from her desk and promptly grabs her coat from the chair, “did something happen? Is she hurt? Is JJ okay?”

She tries to calm herself enough to hear a response from him. Whatever it was must have not been too terrible, because if something dire had indeed happened to her family, there is no way Maria would have sent this semi-stranger to send the news.

“Oh! I don’t—um…” the young man stutters and brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, “she didn’t say. I’m just a messenger.”

With her jacket half worn on her back, Ellie looks down to the scattered papers on the desk and then to the clock on the wall. She only had 30 minutes left before the last patrol shift returned and reported back to her. Ellie was not one to ever leave her post early, but she was unfortunately not immune to whatever nervous energy Andres passed on to her.

The whole situation was terrifyingly curious, and she had to get to her family to find out what was happening. Ellie scribbles a note on a torn piece of paper, neatly folds it, and hands it to noticeably anxious Andres.

“Since you’re a messenger and all… can you quickly send this to Maria for me, please?”

**

Ellie tries not to sprint to Dina’s house. She doesn’t want to alarm anybody in town, so she ends up speed walking instead. In hindsight, sprinting would have probably looked way less ridiculous than the quick shimmy her hips do when she makes herself walk fast.

The thought comes too late. Dina’s house is already in view when she decides to run the rest of the way.

Ellie pauses on the porch to catch her breath. She knocks on the door twice before she curses to herself. Why is she knocking when she has a key to the door? Ellie digs in her pockets for the familiar shape of the metal when the door swings wide open.

“Did you forget your key again?”

Ellie looks up and releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Dina is leaning on the door frame with a smirk on her face. She looks perfect as ever and all Ellie can’t stop herself from hugging her right away. Relief floods her senses when she feels Dina reciprocate, her arms wrapping tightly around Ellie’s waist.

“Are you fine? Like, you’re not hurt?” Ellie whispers into her ear.

“Yes? Is this a trick question? Why?” Dina is puzzled by Ellie’s panic-stricken face and leads them into the house.

“Andres said I had to come home, and he was all nervous and twitchy, so I freaked out and kind of ran here,” Ellie admits before adding, “wait, what about JJ? Is he safe too?”

Dina eyes Ellie as if gauging to see if she was being pranked. When she realizes that Ellie was serious, she laughs and gives Ellie a quick peck on the lips.

“JJ’s upstairs doing homework, but babe, you do know Andres has a speech impediment, right? Like, it’s a medical condition, it doesn’t mean he’s actually nervous,” Dina chuckles when Ellie finally realizes that there was actually nothing to worry about.

“A speech impediment? You mean to say I got nervous for nothing?” Ellie takes a step back to shrug her jacket off her shoulders.

“Mhm,” Dina agrees, and takes Ellie’s jacket to hang on the coat rack by the door.

“So, what was so urgent you sent you lackey out to fetch me?” Ellie tilts her head to the side, still so apparently confused by everything.

“Well… your son—” Dina starts but Ellie interrupts her.

“Oh no. What did he do?”

Dina points up to the stairs, “your son picked a fight at school today.”

Ellie’s eyes bulge out in amazement, “Potato picked a fight? But… he’s only five years old!”

“That’s what I thought!” Dina shrugs, “but then I remembered who his parents are and then I realized that the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Holy fuck, you didn’t not just say that,” Ellie laughs.

“I literally just sounded like my mother,” Dina groans.

“Seriously, though,” Ellie asks, treading carefully but not without a smirk on her lips, “why did he get in a fight in the first place? Because questionable parents aside, he’s practically an angel!”

Dina sighs and leans forward letting Ellie hold her once again, “he said he doesn’t want to talk about it. Only that he wants to ask you something important.”

Ellie glances up toward the stairs wondering what their son could possibly want to ask her. She wonders what kind of demon would have likely possessed their sweet little spud to attack another student at school. The worst part is not even knowing how to explain to their son about not resorting to violence when the world they lived in required such actions to survive.

Despite the severity of the situation, Ellie couldn’t help but to joke, “if he wants to learn how to punch better, he’s asking for the wrong mom.”

The comment earns Ellie a light jab to the chest from Dina.

“Oof. Way to prove my point, babe.” Ellie shakes her head and grabs Dina’s hand to lead them upstairs to JJ’s room.

They share a look understanding that whatever JJ wanted to talk to Ellie about, they all had to do it as a family.

**

Ellie enters JJ’s room first. They find him slumped and sitting cross-legged on his big boy bed. Ollie is on his lap, and they seemed to have interrupted a silent conversation between JJ and his beloved toy. Ellie slowly makes her way to sit on the edge of the bed leaving Dina behind to lean on the doorframe. Their family was complete, but they still wished to respect JJ’s request to only talk to Ellie.

“Hey, bud. I heard what happened at school today. Wanna tell me about it?”

JJ sinks further into his bed and fiddles with Ollie in his hands. He hesitantly looks up and whispers, “do you love me?”

The question baffles Ellie and feels her heart breaking at sound of doubt in her son’s voice. She is more than a little concerned that her son somehow thinks there is a universe in which she could possibly stop loving him. She immediately scoots closer to him and wraps him tightly in her arms.

“Of course, I do, Spud. What makes you think I don’t?” Ellie eyes Dina by the door making a speechless plea for some comfort on her part. Dina only nods her head, assuring her that she is doing all right.

JJ stays still in Ellie’s arms and his teeny voice is muffled when he says, “Max said you’re not my real mom so we’re not a real family and that you only fake love me.”

“What? Who the fuck is Max?” Ellie growls making JJ flinch under her grasp.

Ellie has a sudden urge to hunt down this Max to teach a lesson about not meddling in other people’s business. Dina loudly clears her throat as if to remind Ellie that she is veering off track. Ellie has to remind herself that children can be unconsciously callous and that whoever this kid was probably didn’t mean any harm, and most likely doesn’t know any better.

“Are you angry with me?” JJ asks her and slithers out of her arms.

Ellie is reluctant to let him go and only does when Dina approaches them to sit next to her.

“Mom is not angry with you, Tater,” Dina speaks up, “she has her thinking face on.”

JJ pokes Ellie on the cheek as testing to see if his mom would notice. Ellie fails to hide the smile that emerges on her face. She kisses JJ on the head and comes up with a way to explain the dynamics of their family to a five-year-old.

“Do you remember the book I read to you the other night about the lost bird asking the dog if she’s his mother?” he nods and she continues, “well, our family is kind of like that. You have momma, and you have me. And just because we don’t look alike, it doesn’t mean that I’m any less your mom than momma is to you. Do you understand?”

The truth is that the allusion to the old story isn’t quite fitting to their situation, but Ellie hopes that it is basic enough for their little boy to understand the way their family works.

“You’re the dog and me and momma are birds, and you love us anyway?” he asks so innocently she and Dina can’t help but to laugh.

“I love you always no matter what other people say, Spud,” Ellie reassures him, and she is relieved to see him accepting her explanation, “we’re our own little family and I will always be your mom, even when you don’t see me.”

“What about momma? Do you love momma too?”

Dina tilts her head at Ellie, mimicking the hopeful look in their son’s eyes.

“Your momma owns my heart, Tater.”

Ellie feels Dina’s hand grasp one of hers, their fingers intertwined. JJ sees the contact, jumps on them, and nuzzles his little head in between theirs. The moment was so tender they almost forgot what had started the discussion in the first place.

Until JJ spoke again, “if we’re always a family, how come you don’t live with us?”

And damn, their son really did have some hard-hitting questions that night.

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.