#gave it a shot bc i liked the art when i flipped through

[lesbianpegbar]

genuinely one of the worst things i’ve read in a while

[caravelmp3]

UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex  word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :) 

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth. 

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door. 

“The boys here?” 

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,” 

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom. 

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door. 

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine. 

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too. 

“Just the coffee girl here,” 

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup. 

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?” 

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too. 

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves. 

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too. 

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,” 

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning. 

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?” 

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now. 

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,” 

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?” 

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you. 

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said. 

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?” 

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page. 

     Can you light my love?      Flames glowing bright as the sun      Deeper than oceans you run      Watch as our world has begun 

     Your mind is a stream of colors      Extending beyond our sky      A land of infinite wonders      A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes. 

It was a love song. 

“Josh-” 

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,” 

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle. 

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined. 

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-” 

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened. 

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.” 

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm. 

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed. 

It would be fun. Right? 

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.” 

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both. 

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall. 

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again. 

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips. 

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks. 

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there. 

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him. 

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house. 

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended. 

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place. 

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together. 

It was a form of love in itself. 

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased. 

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

[we-are-inevitable]

Javid with angst 7 and fluff 30

THIS WAS SO CUTE I LOVE IT !!!!!!! modern au bc i said so, also these boys are dumb

Prompt: “I love you.” “No, you don’t.” / “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Word Count: 1537

The front door opens to reveal a frazzled David Jacobs with a single black coffee, one bag of groceries, and an overstuffed satchel crossed over his torso.

The groceries were the first to drop to the floor. Jack knew that nothing in the bag was damaged; if something inside was fragile, then David surely would have brought the bag to the apartment’s small kitchen rather than discarding it onto the floor. As he watched the taller man set his coffee on the small table next to the front door, Jack couldn’t help but smile.

“Rough day, Davey?”

“You. Have. No. Idea,” David crosses the room and inelegantly drops his school bag into the chair against the wall, heading straight for the kitchen. “I’m convinced that Professor Snyder is incompetent. There is no fucking way I got less than a 90 on my midterm report, Jack, there’s no way! But no! Apparently he gave me a goddamn 86 on the paper--”

“I’m sorry, but is there somethin’ wrong with an 86? Seems pretty good to me,” Jack says as he stands up off of the couch, following David to the kitchen. “Don’t stress about it. You have, like, two months until the end of the semester, you’re gonna bring your grade up.”

“Oh, no, I have a high A in the class,” David says nonchalantly as he reaches up to grab a bottle from on top of the fridge-- tequila. Oh. David was in one of those moods. “It’s just-- He has the audacity to give me an 86, yet he gives Morris fucking Delancey a 98? There’s no way his paper was better than mine! I just--”

“Davey, I love ya, man, and I feel for ya, but if you get any more pissed you’re gonna break the bottle and you’re gonna owe me, like, $40. That’s my good tequila.”

“Get the shot glasses, Kelly.”

“On it.”

Jack had a painting he could have been doing. Not classwork, he was pretty much caught up with everything so far, but he had a commission that needed to be sent off by the end of the week and he was still in the sketching phase. But, really, what was the point of working on a commission when he could get drunk with his best friend?

After all of these years, it was still weird to call David a ‘friend.’ They had met in the 8th grade, when Jack was adopted by Medda, who happened to teach drama at the school David attended. On the first day, David had told Jack to shut up in their science class, and the two had been inseparable ever since. They had been 13 when they met.

Now, they were both nearing 23, living in an apartment together, both in their last year of college.

And Jack still hadn’t told David that he was completely, totally, irrevocably in love with him.

Jack brought the shot glasses to the living room, while David brought the bottle and a container of orange juice to chase it. They both sat on the couch for the next thirty minutes, ranting about their days and the horrible people they dealt with  in town or at work or in class or wherever they had over the course of that week.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into two. By that time, the sun was setting, casting a glow straight into the window of the apartment. Jack tilted his head and looked over at David with a chuckle at something he had said, but all laughter was lost as he caught David’s gaze.

God, those blue eyes made him weak. And with the way that the light was directly on them… Jack can’t take the silence.

He turns his body to face David, leaning his head against the back of the couch as his arms cross over his torso. “You ever been in love, Davey?” He asks with that signature Kelly grin. There’s no doubt in his mind that he looks like an idiot. Big smile, scrunched-up nose, squinty eyes- he had been told by plenty of girls that that look was something out of a romcom, and God, he had never wanted that to be truer than right now.

The question seemed to sober David up a little bit. He gulpes and glances away, cheeks flushed- though Jack can’t tell if he’s blushing, or if it’s the alcohol. “I-... Jackie, c’mon. You’ve known me for ten years, you would know--”

“Ah, ah, ah, I think you have a bunch of shit you ain’t tellin’ me,” Jack says with a smirk, though his eyes soften up a bit. All he wants is for David to say yes. If David tells him, then Jack will be able to move on. If David is in love with someone else, then Jack can finally muster up the courage to finally stop telling himself he has a chance. “What about that boy you was with last year? What was his name? Lance?”

“Luke,” David corrects him with a grimace, “And no. I didn’t love him. I… I figured out a few months into it that I… loved someone else,” He admits with a shrug, then scratches the back of his neck. “...Love. Present tense. I love someone else.”

What a kick in the teeth.

Jack sits up a little straighter, then raises a brow. “...Damn, you must’a had feelings for this fella for a while. It’s been, what, near a year since you and Luke broke it off?”

“I’ve liked this guy way longer than I’ve even known Luke,” David says simply, shooting Jack a smile that made his stomach flip.

“What’s he like?”

“Well,” David thinks for a moment, then grins. “He’s really sweet. Stupid, but in a good way,” He chuckles, and Jack can’t help but let out a little laugh as well. “He’s been through a lot, but he’s the most caring guy I’ve ever met. He’d give the shirt off his back for any one of his friends, and trust me, he has a lot.”

“Lots’a friends? Is he a frat guy?”

“Oh, hell no. Far from it. He’s just… really charismatic. He’s… He’s great,” David says with a sad grin, avoiding Jack’s gaze as he takes a slow sip of tequila straight from the bottle.

Something about the way that David is acting has Jack on edge. He seems so close to saying something, but Jack has no idea what it is. “...Tell me more. Does he go here?”

“Mhm. He’s an art student,” David admits nonchalantly, and Jack’s heart feels like it rips in two. An art student… No. There’s no way David is talking about him, but the fact that he’s into another art student that isn’t Jack makes him regret ever asking in the first place. “He’s good, too. Really good. He likes music, too, and he’s a great singer, even if he doesn’t think so. He’s a horrible driver, but he can navigate the subway system in his sleep. He… He’s a pretty good--...”

David hesitates. Jack watches.

The silence between them is so heavy that Jack feels like he’s being crushed. “...David?”

David takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. “He’s a pretty good roommate, too. Even if he cares more about a $40 bottle of tequila than he cares about me.”

Jack is silent for a few long moments. He’s frozen in place, trying desperately to connect the dots, and deep down he knows what David is saying, but he can’t do this and he doesn’t want to assume and-- “Davey, what- what are you sayin’?”

David turns to face him, a sad smile on his face. The look makes Jack’s breath catch in his throat. “I love you. Jack Kelly, I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack responds instantly, his eyes widening just slightly. “No, because- because I-- Fuck, I’ve loved you for so long, but you- you don’t love me. Is this real? Are you-- Are you real?”

The smile that breaks out onto David’s face stuns Jack into silence. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” David whispers, before letting out a laugh. “I just-- Jack, how could I not love you? You’re so--”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that,” Jack cut in, letting out a giddy giggle. “I-- Davey, oh my Good, you’re so fuckin’ perfect. You’re smart, and nice, and stubborn as a mule in the best way possible, and I- I ain’t good with words, you know that, but you--... All of my best paintings, all of my best sketches, are all because you were my muse. You were… Perfect. You’ve always been perfect… David?”

“Yeah, Jack?”

“Kiss me.”

The feeling of David dragging him into his lap would forever be one of the best feelings Jack had ever experienced. He straddles David’s thighs, wraps his arms around David’s neck, and melts as soon as David pulls him into the best kiss he had ever had.

David’s hand is in his hair. Caressing him. Grounding him.

They kiss for what feels like hours, but Jack eventually pulls back for breath, forehead gently pressed against David’s.

Something tells him they should’ve done this a long time ago, but at least they had the rest of forever.

[photochoco]

First days are always the most hectic

Black Cauldron’s newest recruit learns the ropes. She hopes she isn’t in over her head!

---

Wisty had always loved sleeping late. In a world where the night was eternal, and the city had only colored lights to indicate the time, it was easy to lose track. They often would stay up until the deep purples of “night” would slowly gradate into the bright yellows of “daytime”. People more or less adhered to the idea that yellow was for doing things and being awake, and purple was for sleeping. Though Wisty had found that the city came alive during the purple hours in a way it didn’t when the lights were yellow. They themself worked better during purple hours. Ah, night life.

But if they looked out the window now, everything was just a muddled soup of values. Greys mixed together dully. Had they known this would happen, they would’ve appreciated it all a lot more. 

It’d been several weeks since they’d been cursed, and everything had changed. Wisty had tried to go on with life as normal, but quickly realized that the old “normal” was not coming back. People stared at them, whispered and glared. Creating art had been immensely frustrating. And their friends…

It had all come to a head around the time of their birthday. Wisty always enjoyed throwing a party with all their buddies, and they were determined to make this year no exception. They’d gone all out, decorating with colorful streamers that they couldn’t see, balloons everywhere, and a cake they’d made themselves. 

No one had shown up.They’d been so sure their curse didn’t matter to their friends. Apparently it mattered a lot. They had curled up on their bed and sobbed their guts out for what felt like hours. It hurt, not seeing any color. It hurt even more to know the people they’d considered their friends were so ready to just abandon them for being cursed. So what if their eyes were gaping black voids? So what if they occasionally leaked? So what if they hung out at Black Cauldron? So what if they hung out with cursed people? So what if they were cursed? So what? How could that matter so much? 

I’d love to hang out but...y’know how my mom feels about curses and...yeah, I don’t wanna argue with her-

Uh...what if the witch comes back…? They have tracking magic and stuff so...I don’t know-

Ergh...last time you hugged me, your eye goop got all over my clothes. I still haven’t gotten the stains out. Sorry but that’s just too messed up-

It smells really weird, like chemicals? You sure it isn’t poisonous? Yeesh-

The cake had been shoved into the fridge, but Wisty couldn’t find it in them to tear down the decorations. So they threw on a hoodie and went for a walk. 

It was very embarrassing when, as they wandered around with swollen red eyelids and tear streaks on their cheeks, they ran into Dex by chance. His perpetual grin slipped as he noticed their tears, and very easily got them to say why. Wisty tried to brush it off as not being a big deal, which was very obviously a lie.

An ice cream and 30 minutes later, and Dex had insisted Wisty come with him to Black Cauldron. Something about Ela wanting to speak with Wisty about something. 

What awaited them through those doors was the last thing they’d expected; a surprise party thrown together just for them. Dex, the sly nerd, had told everyone what happened. Said Wisty would not be going to bed without having a party to celebrate their birthday.

Well. After they’d managed to finally stop crying over the touching gesture, Wisty was treated to an admittedly last-minute but nonetheless wonderful party with all the Cadets. Some of them had even gone out and bought them small gifts. At the end of it all, Wisty went home happily, with a full stomach and a camera roll full of memories. These people barely knew them, yet dropped everything to give them a shotgun party. It was enough for them to finally make up their mind.

After the party, Wisty approached Ela with their answer. They wanted to become a Cadet. The new couple weeks were filled with visits to BC to meet with Ela and Harvey. Today marked the day of their orientation, and their stomach fluttered with nerves. They couldn’t really imagine themselves out there fighting yet, but the prospect of it was weirdly exciting. And it gave them something to do while they figured out what to do with their artist career. Sitting in their apartment fighting off a creeping emptiness wasn’t going to help. 

They put on their headphones, tugged their hair out from behind and gave it a flip for good measure before looking themself over in the mirror. Perfect, coordinated, adorable. Wisty adjusted their headphones and took a deep breath, forcing themself to keep looking when all they wanted to do was shut their eyes.

You are okay.

In front of their apartment complex, Wisty wrestled on their roller blades, selected some music, and took off. The breeze as they skated along eased their mind some, and their favorite tunes in their ears eased it more.

They wondered if Harvey had finished designing it yet.

---

The bustling of activity in the bar of Black Cauldron was the same as always, Cadets walking around and chatting with each other. Everyone stopped though, at the sound of something banging into the front door. A few moments later, the door swung open and Wisty practically tumbled through the threshold, a pair of roller blades in her hand. 

“Ack, sorry! Didn’t mean to run into the door like that.”

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Bianca giggled, giving a wave. “You ready for your first day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be!” Wisty said, raising her arms in a stretch. “I’m like, both nervous AND excited?”

A tall mage in a bunny mask rounded the corner, a giant calligraphy pen in his hands. “Ah, perfect. I just finished the final adjustments to your weapon. Here.” Harvey held it out with both hands. Its tip gleamed of newly polished brass. Its long body was black and smooth as Wisty took it in her hands. It was-

“It’s perfect!” she squealed in her excitement. Harvey gave a satisfied nod.

���Aaaand here are your ink canisters. I took the liberty of filling them up for you already. And here are the colors in powder form, just add water. Once you run out I can make more for you. And the colors are in the order you requested so you can easily pick them without seeing the hue. There should be enough ink to last you a whole fight, but don’t y’know, go painting the entire city.”

Wisty hugged her pen and ink pack tightly to her chest like a child being gifted a new toy. “I love it I love it I love it thankyouthankyouthank youuuuuuu!!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down. She hurriedly clipped the ink canisters to the back of her belt before doing the same to her pen across her back. “How do I look?” she asked with a twirl.

Harvey’s bunny mask was stuck in a perpetual grin, but Wisty could glean from his body language that he was quite pleased with his handiwork. “You look ready for your first day! You’ll get a chance to try ‘em out today during your sparring.”

“My what?”

“Sparring!” Bianca appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm around Wisty’s neck. “You said you don’t have a whole lot of fighting experience yeah? Plus like Harvey said, you’ll totally wanna try out your weapon before heading out there, see whatcha can do!”

“Okay…” Wisty said slowly. “But who am I gonna be sparring?”

It was then that she was lifted bodily off the ground by an enormous hand, which wrapped around her middle as easily as if she were a doll. 

“That would be me, cupcake. You should get a feel for what it’ll be like fighting powerful enemies with a lot of physical strength.”

“As ya probably know, ghouls are usually witch cronies, doin’ their dirty work. Not the smartest, but really damn strong,” Bianca added. 

“...Did you just call Pinprick stupid? That’s not very nice!”

“Oh no, cupcake, she is mostly right. Being turned into a ghoul scrambled my brains, hehehe,” Pinprick replied with a wide smile.

Wisty paused to consider this. “...Still! Be nicer to yourself! I’m fairly sure you’re not stupid.”

“My oh my, what a sweet cupcake you are! But no time for chatter, we must be off to the sparring spot!” 

“Oh cool!” Wisty looked down to be put down. “Where is it?”

“Near the outskirts of the city,” Pinprick replied as he squeezed through the small doorframe. 

“Are we gonna walk then? You don’t hafta carry me, I got functional legs!” 

“Nope! No walkin’,” Bianca said, walking up behind them and jumping onto Pinprick’s other arm, balancing herself against his shoulder.

“Rooftop hopping is much faster. Observe!” Pinprick bent his legs.

“WhaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

---

“Here we are!” Pinprick chirped, setting a very windswept Wisty down on the ground.

Well, that was another form of travel she could check off the list. Bianca hopped off Pinprick’s back and tossed a bracelet to the newbie.

“All Cadets carry these bracelets,” Pinprick explained. “They’re a magic disrupter, placing them on witches or ghouls disrupts their flow of magic to incapacitate them. But of course, they don’t always do the job, so you all need to know how to fight. That one is just a dummy bracelet of course, completely harmless.”

“Oh, okay,” Wisty said, turning it over in her hands. “So I just gotta snap the bracelet on you?” 

Bianca and Pinprick exchanged a glance and a mischievous grin, with the former shoving her hands in her pockets and backing up. Way up. 

“Get that bracelet on me, and we can call it a day. Unless you get it on real quick though!” the ghoul snickered.

Wisty unclipped her pen and spun it. “Oof, you don’t have to worry about that. I haven’t done a lot of fighting, remember.”

“Chin up, cupcake, back straight! Cuz here I come.”

“Ok so what--” Her words were cut off as Pinprick’s arm shot towards her at an alarming speed. “ShiT!!” Wisty barely had time to dodge out of the way, one of Pinprick’s fingers clipping her cheek. 

Geezus, he’s fast!! She hopped backwards, trying to gain some distance between them. He lunged towards her again, arm outstretched to grab her. Gripping her pen, Wisty rammed it against his arm, knocking it off course. Undeterred, the rest of Pinprick caught up like a released rubberband. His massive hand swiped through the air; Wisty flipped out of the way in a backwards handspring, her foot kicking his claws away. They felt remarkably like rubber. Her sense of gravity was then thrown sideways as she slipped on her pen. She let out a sharp squawk as she landed roughly on her side.

She barely had time to feel even an inkling of embarrassment before she was slammed into the ground and pinned there by his other hand.

“Not a bad start, cupcake. But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Pinprick crooned. 

Wisty wheezed. “HhHhhhffffiiiihhhhhhhhne- Le’go please my lungs ack-”

Pinprick let her go and she stood up, wincing. Dude could pack a punch.

“Impressive maneuvers! But didn’t you just say you don’t have any fighting experience?”

Wisty swung her leg out to the side. “Gymnastics. And maybe like a month’s worth of self-defense classes while I was in high school. But that’s it.” She gripped her weapon in her hands, tightly this time.

“Ready? Again.” He lunged.

She dodged and slid underneath him, bashing the end of her pen into where she thought the back of his knee was. She must’ve struck true; the giant ghoul kneeled with a small grunt. Wisty yelped in surprise as his entire upper half pivoted to face her.

“Surprise!”

Wisty barely managed to bend out of the way of his swipe. Noticing the ridges on his arm, she grabbed one and swung herself up onto his shoulders. Pinprick bucked, trying to throw her off. She impulsively grabbed the first thing she could, his hair. It was as hard as plastic and hard to keep a grip on.

“Sorry! Sorryyyyyyyy!” she yelped as she reached for the bracelet.

Her apology was answered by Pinprick grabbing her ankle and yanking her off. Upside-down, she could see Bianca ambling up to the scene, a burger in her hand.

“Howzit goin’?” she asked.

Wisty let out a loud groan of frustration. “I’ve been getting my ass kicked!! SO! I’ve come to the conclusion that I will absolutely die if I go fight anything,” she grumbled as she dangled from Pinprick’s hand. He snickered in response. 

“Hey, don’t feel too bad, this is only a baseline! Imagine how good you’ll be after me ‘n Nate ‘n Dex have taught ya!” Bianca said.

“Hopefully it’ll be a less shameful display than this,” Wisty replied as Pinprick idly swung her from side to side like a pendulum. “I kinda thought I was gonna learn how to fight. I know I shouldn’t be complainin’, it’s very nice of you two to take time out of your day to help me, but is this the best way to go about it when I haven’t ever fought before?”

“Here at BC, we believe in learning on the job!” Bianca replied, licking remnants of ketchup off her fingers. “We are not gonna let you go out there until you feel confident enough you can hold your own, so don’t worry.”

Pinprick gently set Wisty on the ground. “Ready whenever you are, love,” he grinned widely.

__

“I yield.” Wisty’s legs were far past beginning to wobble. Now she could hardly keep herself upright. Pinprick was not only stupidly fast, but stupidly powerful. He absorbed all of her attacks like they were nothing and dished out brutal counters one after the other. Wisty had been reduced to blocking and dodging, Pinprick never letting up for even a moment. She didn’t even have enough time to grab an ink canister. At least she could safely say she was better at avoiding attacks now. Her lungs burned with heavy breaths and her arms ached from swinging her pen around. Goddamn inertia.

Pinprick raised his hands again in preparation, grinning still. “We’re only getting started, love!”

“C-Could we take a break or something? I’m frickin’ exhausted and haven’t landed a solid hit on you once!” 

“Of course we can stop! After you get the bracelet on. That was the agreement sweetheart, don’t back out on me now.”

“Ugh c’moooon. You have no mercyyyyy.” Wisty forced herself to stand up straight.

“What’s happening?”

Bianca turned and gave a nod of greeting to Dex, who had strolled up to the scene and was now watching with interest.

“The newbie is getting broken in,” she said, cringing as Pinprick sent Wisty flying again. “I think she’s doing...okay…”

Dex smirked. “Sure doesn’t look like it, hehe.”

“Hey, go easy on her dude, she just started today! I’ve been watching the whole time, I can tell you she’s gotten a lot better already. Aw geez,” Bianca winced as Pinprick threw a punch that caught Wisty on her right cheek, resulting in her swearing loudly.

“Remember your safe word!” Dex shouted to her.

“My WHAT? PINPRICK YOU CHEATER, YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THAT!!”

The ghoul only cackled in response. “You never asked about it, cupcake!”

“OF COURSE I DIDN’T, I’M NEW HERE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!” Wisty screeched.

As Pinprick rushed her again, she didn’t wait. This time she lurched to meet him, slamming the butt of her pen into the ground and using it to jump up to his height, landing an impressive high-kick on his chin that actually got a grunt of pain out of him. 

“Close!!” Dex shouted. “Keep trying--oof, that looked like it hurt.” 

Pinprick had slugged Wisty full force in the torso, her pen caught in between his fist and her stomach. It seemed to absorb much of the impact, but it wasn’t enough to keep the girl from slamming into the ground hard and skidding several yards away where she collided with some boxes. Dust flew everywhere. 

“I’ll go get the nurse bed ready,” Bianca sighed, turning to head back to Black Cauldron. “Hey Dex, if it looks like Pin is getting a bit too into it, make sure he doesn’t punch Wisty into nonexistence. He’ll feel horrible if he accidentally hurts her really bad.”

Was Pinprick just that strong? Or did she just suck that bad? Wisty coughed on the clouds of dust filling the air and tasted the sharp tang of iron in her mouth. She spat onto the concrete, a gob of red. She could feel more on her tongue and dripping from her mouth. Her pen hadn’t broken, (thank you Harvey), but having it rammed into her gut fucking huuuuuuuuuuuuurt. What if she couldn’t get the bracelet on? What if she never got better at this? Her vision swam and she felt ink dripping from her face again. 

Wisty grit her teeth and bit back a snarl. No. This was her first day. She’d get better, she’d get way better. And she was going to get that fucking bracelet on! She could do this!

“So...hff...that’s how it’s gonna be, huh…? Fine. Fine. You want me to play rough, I’ll do that.”

She reached behind herself to her ink cartridges. One, two, perfect.

“Yo Pinprick! Did you kill ‘em, man?!” Dex called to his comrade.

“Ahoho, I certainly hope not, we were having so much fun!”

Before he could say anything more, though, a thin jet of orange ink fired from the dust cloud. The instant it made contact with the ground, a huge explosion blossomed outward.

“HOLY MOLY!!!” Dex hollered as Pinprick skidded backwards, blinking in surprise.

“Oho, it seems the newbie has a few tricks up her sleeve! Good, good!” he laughed.

The dust was settling, and now he could see Wisty standing with her shoulders hunched and her face twisted with a determined scowl. Black liquid was oozing from both her eyes, making her look quite frightening. A canister full of green liquid was clutched in her hand, Dex and Pinprick watched as she tipped it back and took a swig of the ink inside before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and grabbing another canister. This one she shoved into her pen. 

But she didn’t make a move yet, panting. 

“Oh come now love, you can’t be that tired already! You’re leaving yourself...wide! Open!” Pinprick sprinted forward and thrust his left arm out. Wisty swiftly jumped to the side, his right, and he attempted to grab her again, this time with his right hand. She ducked again, resulting in both Pinprick's hands smashing into the wall, sending pieces of brick flying.

Wisty took aim with her pen, and fired. Black ink streamed from the tip and coated Pinprick’s hands. His first instinct was to tug--

And they didn’t budge. The ink was like tar.

“What in the--” White ink spattered the wall and a blinding light filled his vision. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging illumination. When it faded, he swiveled his head round looking for Wisty-

And caught her out of the corner of his eye sprinting towards him. With a mighty heave, he wretched his right arm free of the ink to deal another devastating blow-

In the blink of an eye, Wisty had taken a mighty leap, vaulting herself upwards using Pinprick’s shoulders. As she shot up into the air, twisting, she aimed the nib of her pen downwards into his face.

“Boom.”

Orange ink streamed. Pinprick was caught in a huge explosion. Dex shielded his face as the heat wave slammed into him. 

“Jeezus God, what the hell did Harvey put in those inks??” he muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared, he could see Pinprick, still standing, his hands free from the black ink, but looking significantly more banged up. 

“Yeowzers,” Dex trotted up next to the ghoul to get a closer look at the damage. “That was pretty awesome. Might cause some property damage, though.”

“But really, when don’t we cause just a little property damage?” Pinprick pointed out, dusting himself off. 

“Wait...where’d Wisty go?” 

“Hmm...did she get blown away from the explosion…?” Pinprick mused. “She was right--”

A stream of bright yellow ink hit his back, and his entire frame spasmed as electricity coursed through him. His body was knocked to the ground as Wisty dropped down from above onto him. Dex barely managed to jump out of the way with a squawk. 

“You--little--” Pinprick hissed through gritted teeth, but the girl had a firm grip as she snapped the bracelet around his neck, fighting against her shaking arms as the shocks spread up them. 

“Friggin...got it...Geezus…” she huffed.

She slid off Pinprick as he straightened himself up, wincing, yet looking very pleased.

“Well well well, color me surprised, cupcake! What a way to show off what some of those colors can do.” 

“Hehe,” Wisty grinned sheepishly, her legs quaking. She tried to take a step forward, but stumbled, opting to lean on her pen for support.

“Tell me, what was that green ink for?”

“Healing. It -huff hff- can heal wounds if applied topically like a- hff- salve. Or you can drink it to- help with something internal.” Her smile looked a little pained. “I guess I’ll be using it a lot, eh?” 

Pinprick suddenly looked rather worried, his smile dropping and his brow creasing. “Oh no...I must’ve hit you a little too hard, huh? I’m sorry about that, sometimes I can forget my own strength.” 

“D-Don’t apologize! It was really hard, sure, but it was necessary right? You said it yourself, ghouls are scary strong! So if I was able to take you down, then I should be okay with practice! Plus, y’know,” she scratched the back of her head. “I did kinda electrocute you. And make you explode. Twice.” 

Pinprick had to nod in agreement with that, his grin returning. “You were quite clever to coax me into getting my hands stuck to the wall. And that light! I couldn’t see a thing.” 

“I know I got here like halfway through, but you were pretty impressive out there, rookie,” Dex piped up. “Pretty fast, too. And usin’ your opponent’s size and physical features to your advantage with those twisty moves? You might give even witches a run for their money with smarts like that. But for now, howsabout we call it a day? You look like you’re gonna collapse. Your cheek ain’t lookin so good either.”

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, throbbing aches began to make themselves known all over Wisty’s body. Her right cheek really, really hurt, and she gingerly pressed her fingers against it, wincing as the swollen flesh protested.

“You two got pretty banged up. How about we head back to BC to getcha patched up?” Dex jerked his thumb back to his bike, which was parked nearby. 

“Do forgive me for goin’ so hard on you cupcake. Needed to make sure you were prepared; out there, it could be even more dangerous.” Pinprick reached out and ruffled Wisty’s hair, wiggling her whole head back and forth.

“Oh c’mon Pin, I’m a hugger! Gimme one!” 

Pinprick chuckled and picked the girl up with one arm, giving her a squeeze.

“You did very well today! See ya back at BC, cupcake. And you too, Dex,” Pinprick wiggled his fingers in farewell.

“Awwwww C’mon Pin, aren’t I a cupcake too?” Dex asked, his puppy-dog voice belied by the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not! Go on now, I’ll see you two back there!” With a mighty leap, Pinprick was off, hopping from roof to roof with ease. Within no time at all he was out of sight. Wisty slumped.

“Urgh, I barely hurt him at all. Look at him doin’ parkour shit while I can barely stand--” Right on cue, her legs buckled. She was saved by Dex, who swooped down and grabbed her under the arms. 

“Tracy will get you all fixed in no time. Pinprick only went so hard on you because he felt you had potential you were holding back. His method of bringing it out is to hit as hard as he can, hehe. You seem promising, rookie. I’ll have to be extra careful when we fight.”

“You use GUNS.”

“In the field! Sparring I use blanks. And my lithe body.”

Wisty burst out laughing as Dex helped her to the bike. “You guys are merciless! I don’t wanna do anything until I’m not hurting everywhere.” 

“Nothin’ a lil magic n’ a hot bath can’t fix. Aight, get on the back,” Dex said, turning the key in the ignition. “DeeDee likes to go fast, so you might wanna hold on.”

“Okay...uh where…” Wisty hesitantly gripped Dex’s shoulders. 

“Here we go!” The bike flared to life and Dex squeezed the handle.

The inertia as they took off was unexpected and Wisty had to momentarily throw her arms around Dex’s middle to keep from tumbling off the back. But soon enough her hands were back to his shoulders as they drove along, buildings and power lines passing by in a blur.

It was exhilarating. 

“Not too fast for ya, newbie?”

“It’s awesome! I love going fast!”

“Heh, hang on then!”

Wisty closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, lost in the feeling of the wind as they drove along. This was giving her an idea for…

She opened her eyes.

Ah. Right.

What she would’ve given to see what this all looked like in color. The blurred buildings. The bright moon. Dex’s scarf as it fluttered and danced behind them. He had told her it was red, but what shade of red? What shade were her inks? What if she forgot the colors she knew? Her mouth twisted as tears again stung her eyes. Not that any would fall, the wind was drying them up. 

“Hey just so ya know, you might wanna actually hang on to my middle or else you’ll fall off!” Dex called over his shoulder.

“What?” Wisty shouted back right before they went over a bump. She yelped and clung to Dex again. He snorted.

“Soooooo, have you thought about partnering up with anyone?” he asked her.

“Uh...no, not really.”

“Would you like to? Newbies usually tend to, though I don’t think Alphus ever did, heh.”

“I dunno. I mean, I...” The truth was, she’d love to partner up with someone. Like Bianca and Pinprick. They’d been the ones to save her, and she’d gotten pretty attached to them both. After she’d been cursed, it felt like everyone she once had in her life had left. Her friends abandoned her, people she’d known for years. Even now, it was a stubborn ache in her chest that wasn’t going away yet. And BC...the Cadets had taken her in immediately, even when she wasn’t yet sure if she wanted to join. They accepted her, curse, quirks, all of it. They’d given her friendship and comfort.

She wanted to partner up with someone. She’d known these people for such a short time, and each of them had undoubtedly gone through their own horrible shit. Some of them more so than others.  Ghouls weren’t seen as people. People without souls were surely damaged and sad to others. People whose eyes reflected no light and oozed black ink were creepy. 

Her grip tightened. If Dex noticed, he didn’t say anything as he rounded a corner hard, tires screeching. 

“Y’know, you should really wear a helmet, especially driving like this!”

“Naaahhhh, I’m too cool for one!”

“No one is too cool for head safety, my dude.”

“This hair is!”

He weaved easily in and through the crowd. Wisty could see people staring as they flew by. What a strange pair they must look, a boy with glowing white eyes and a girl with black voids for hers. If they could even see them. A couple of freaks, huh?

Couple of freaks. 

Those weirdos at Black Cauldron...you’ve been hanging out with them? They’re all freaks!

A smile suddenly found itself creeping across Wisty’s lips.

All freaks? Huh? Well if we can accept each other regardless, then I'll be a freak too.

“...Hehehe.” 

Wisty stood up suddenly, her arms spread wide.

“Whooooooo!!!”

“Wisty SIT DOWN! You’re gonna fall off!”

“My balance is really good!” 

Luckily for her, and Dex’s blood pressure, a street lined by trees with low-hanging branches forced her to remain seated for the rest of the ride. Her little burst of excitement had sapped the last of her energy, and Wisty rested her cheek against Dex’s back. She felt really tired. Happy. Veeeeeery sore. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the city as they whizzed past. 

Tired...

“Alright, we’re here. Hopefully Bianca has that nurse bed ready.” Dex came to a smooth stop in front of the staircase leading up to Black Cauldron. “Let’s get you to Tracy.  ... ...Hello? Kiddo?” 

He now became aware of Wisty’s weight slumped against his back. He twisted his head round to look back at her. She was fast asleep. 

Dex sighed and chuckled to himself. “Damn, you’re really gonna make me carry you up all those stairs? Guess this is what I get for teasing you about the safe word. Hyup-” 

With no small amount of effort, Dex hoisted the sleeping teen onto his back and began the trek up the stairs. Wisty let out a soft snore.

---

Unexpectedly, it's a kind of future like that.

[heedra]

Exalted Secret Santa Journal: 2020

Apologies for the slight delay! My journal this year is going to be pretty much the same one as last year; I was working on an additional reference but it absolutely got away from me, so I’ll give it more time and save it for next year. Without further ado:

Daia Shan- Serenity Caste Sidereal

Once just a troublesome junior bureaucrat in the halls of Yu-Shan, Daia truly gained infamy upon her selection to accompany a strike team of Exalted heroes on a mission into the depths of the worldbody of the Yozi Oramus, and her subsequent escape and return from that impossible prison, nearly a thousand years later. The experience left her profoundly changed; even now, the spite of Oramus hangs like a mantle around Daia, ensuring that the waking world she fought so hard to return to will never feel like anything more than a dream. And then, of course, there is the matter of the power she took from the Sevenfold Peacock willingly… and how that power might be changing her still.

Daia is a somewhat petite woman, belying an athletic build. She is ethnically from the Blessed Isle, with dark grey hair that she prefers to wear up, usually in a bun or a knot. Her face, which she tries but fails to keep free of stress and worry lines, is usually found bearing a smirk or an expression of dangerous faux-politeness. Her eyes bear the iconic starry blue of the Serenities caste, but are also shot through with bands of a strange prismatic iridescence. She bears a large pair of bull horns atop her head, a mutation received during her time inside the Worldbody. The nature of the power bequeathed to her by Oramus is such, though, that her very nature is beginning to blur around the edges, and it is not unusual for her day-to-day appearance to fluctuate strangely as mutations come and go like glitches. She is a bit of a fashionista, favoring blues, dramatic and sharp femme looks (she avoids ruffles and prefers sleeker outfits), and jewelry of all sorts (a lot of it). She rarely wears the same exact outfit twice, so do not feel obligated to stick to the reference- you can get creative! She wears makeup, but prefers cool colors and an understated application.

Daia’s most important accessory is her longfang, the Sevenfold Peacock’s Tailfeather. Forged from starmetal, orichalcum, and a crystalline shard of Oramic essence, the weapon contains knowledge of every martial arts technique known by every user to have ever wielded it, and seems to hunger for more to the point where its obsession has bled over into Daia herself. Even more potently, it bears deep within its core the secret to a martial art concocted by the Dragon of Not himself, whose charms grant the power to ignore the limits of impossibility at the cost of making the wielder more and more alien to the waking world. It is a temptation that Daia has drunk deep of, despite all signs pointing to that being a very bad idea. Daia sees the spear as a trophy stolen from her greatest nemesis, but it’s very possible the Yozi himself sees it as a clever snare for hubristic Sidereals. The blade of the weapon is prismatic crystal that resembles a jagged bird’s beak, the pole is jet black starmetal shot through with an orichalcum starmap of constellations, and the orichalcum pommel is fashioned to look like seven golden peacock feathers woven together into a sphere.

While her exaltation may brand Daia a chosen of the Maidens, the elder Sid is a loose cannon, an agent of Heaven in only the most general of terms. She is mercurial, theatrical, fond of causing petty chaos, and utterly disinterested in the politics of the Bureau, unless there is way for her to stir up drama. She has tendency to get ahead of herself with her schemes, and the vast majority of her ‘downfalls’ can be traced back to her own hubris. Beneath all that, she is a lonely woman who feels adrift in a world that no longer feels real to her. She’s a terrible flirt, a huge showoff (especially where martial arts are involved) and has a weak spot for dangerous women. She’s Creation’s wildest and worst gay aunt.

Side Note: Daia is partially deaf, due to an old and potent supernatural injury. She employs the use of what magic/technology she can to aid her, but relies as well on sign language and interpreters. She’s very used to it at this point.

here’s the link to a better-resolution version of this image bc tumblr kinda fuckt it

and here’s the link to her toyhouse page, which has further images and info!

________________________________________________________________

Avenging Phoenix- Dawn Caste Solar (Formerly Ravenous Vulture Picks Clean the Bones of Creation, Dusk Caste Abyssal)

Orphaned at an early age, Phoenix was adopted by a Guild mercenary and raised as such. He spent his later mortal life as a city guard captain in Thorns, where he exalted during the fateful siege itself, disillusionment and rage at the circumstances of his death making him an easy recruit for the Mask. His path has weaved far and wide since then, a slow painful crawl from rebellion to eventual redemption; a journey that ultimately gave him a place among the saviors of Creation. Along the way, he played a role in liberating a group of orphaned children from the clutches of the Dowager, and now finds himself settling into the role of an adoptive dad to them, hanging up his metaphorical (and literal) axe and trying to live a gentler life. It’s not always easy. Violence and trauma etched in that deep doesn’t just smooth out perfectly over time. On top of that, he has impostor’s syndrome when it comes to his redemption by the Sun, and still feels uncomfortable thinking of himself as a peer to the other members of the Solar Host. Still, as long as his soul is on this side of Lethe, he is determined to fight against the Void- not because he considers himself antithesis to it, but because he has known it and survived it. And while some days it’s hard, other days it feels like, maybe, fighting against the void can be planting sunflowers for your children on a sunny spring afternoon.

Phoenix is of Western descent, very short, fat, and beefy, with warm brown skin and a round, open face.  He keeps his burgundy hair closely shaved, not fond of dealing with the mess of wavy curls it becomes when allowed to grow out. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, the outside of the iris rimmed with the faintest edge of golden yellow. His nose looks like it has been broken multiple times in the past, and never properly healed. Due to unfortunate wyld misadventures his tongue has been mutated to resemble and function like that of a frog’s, though this is only really apparent when he opens his mouth to use the damn thing. Frogs and toads are a definite motif for him in general- small, grumpy-looking, and round as they are.

Phoenix’s casual clothes tend to be simple, comfortable, loose, and in sharp contrast to his prickly combat garb. He enjoys floral patterns, and the color pink. He’s got a very ‘open hawaiian shirt and flip flops dad’ vibe, basically. He does not dress fancily unless pressed to for big occasions, and in those cases usually grudgingly follows the fashion direction of the one twisting his arm. When he’s on actual exalt business, he’s most frequently found wearing his armor; black jade full plate embellished with cruel-looking spikes, and occasionally a shaggy grey fur cloak made from the pelt of some hunting trophy. A horned skull helm, made from the skull of a nephwrack’s war-body, often completes this ensemble. The helmet is a minor artifact: when worn, it causes his eyes to glow balefully behind its sockets and makes his voice gravelly with deathly menace. He is reluctant to take it off unless he feels at ease in a situation.

Phoenix is somewhat bumbling and gruffly soft-spoken, with tendency to look more tired than he feels. Beneath this is a talent for strategic leadership and a determination that gets fiercer as the going gets tougher. On the battlefield, he is utterly terrifying when he needs to be, but would much prefer to be at home in his garden than on a battlefield these days.

His anima banner starts as burst of gold-and crimson fire that solidifies into the form of a fierce and predatory-looking phoenix, with aspects of a garda bird and a lammergeier both. It moves as he does across the battlefield, swooping and rising with each swing of his axe, its fierce eyes focused on his opponent. Additional refs:

link to his toyhouse page, which has a TON more reference images

what he looked like as an abyssal | his grand grimcleaver looks like this except made outta fiery golden light | rough sketch of his skull helmet

[kingkeerys]

the art of chasing ♔ billy hargrove [four ½]

concept: steve has a female best friend and billy has taken it upon himself to flirt with her just to piss steve off. that’s it. that’s the plot. [vol. 4.5]

a/n: aaand here’s the second part! i’m trying to not make the scenes that were in the show word for word, and hopefully i’m including annie in a way that seems natural and not forced. i’m also trying to flesh billy’s character out more bc yes, he’s still an asshole, and i don’t want to sugarcoat that here just for annie’s sake. hope you guys enjoy! xoxo

i want a devil in skin tight leather

and he’s gonna be wild as the wind.

and one fine night i’ll be holdin’ on tight…

#5.5

Annie Lane couldn’t believe she was sitting in the passenger seat of Billy Hargrove’s car.

It was one of those moments of existential crisis – why am I here? How did this happen? And why did I agree to it?

It was as if Billy could sense her regret because the moment her ass met the car seat he was speeding down the road, not allowing her the chance to jump out the door unless she wanted to become roadkill.

She was quick to try and buckle her seatbelt, only to find that the lock wouldn’t click into place. She tried a few times, worried that she was going to be propelled through the windshield if Billy’s foot on the brake became trigger happy, but each time she was unsuccessful.

“It’s broken,” Billy kindly informed her after her fifth try. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Thank you for the update,” she settled with tying the belt around the broken lock before casting the road an anxious look. “Could you slow down a bit?”

“Not real good at slow,” he replied, side-eyeing her out of the corner of his sunglasses. “I’m better at fast.”

The double entendre wasn’t lost on her and she glared at him briefly. He smirked.

“I find it interesting that you agreed to go to the party,” he commented, turning right at the cut-off like she requested. He squealed tires and her ears began to ring as she hit her elbow on the console from the sharp turn. “Coming from the girl who doesn’t seem to like parties.”

“You told me to,” she reminded him briskly.

“I told you to make me an offer,” he corrected lightly, amused with her short tone. “It could’ve been anything – a kiss on the cheek, a quick grope, a round in the backseat,” he gave her a cheeky wink and her nose curled.

“As if,” she crossed her arms tightly and watched out the window.

“You have been to a party before, right?”

“Yes,” she snipped.

“I mean a real party,” he said, explaining it to her as if she were a three-year-old. “No chaperones, no adults, no kiddie-proofed cabinets.”

“I know what an unsupervised party is, Billy. I don’t live under a rock.”

He grinned. “Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. You ever drank before?”

“Yes,” she said again and didn’t elaborate.

“Once? Twice?” Billy hedged, irking her further. “‘I had a glass of champagne at my cousin’s wedding once,’” he said in a high-pitched, poorly executed Australian accent. He then imitated John Travolta’s thick lilt, “‘Oh, Sandy!’”

“Are you done?” she asked. He tossed his head back, cackling. She felt a reluctant smile curve up her lips. “I can’t believe you know Grease.”

Billy paused, as if just now realizing he put his bad boy reputation on the line.

“Max watches it all the time,” he defended himself. Annie covered her smile with her hand, disguising it as a cough. She saw Billy roll his eyes out of the corner of her eye.

Her smile slowly faded upon realizing that something about his expression was off. He seemed slightly on edge, tense. His hand had been gripping the steering wheel tightly ever since he pulled up to her along the road, causing his knuckles to turn white. Perspiration coated his neck and chest, which was on full display from his obscenely unbuttoned shirt beneath his leather jacket. She watched him closely, wondering if she should ask him if he was alright or not. She decided against it.

He turned down the Wheelers’ street and her stomach flipped as the car flew down the hill.

“This it?” he asked, voice lacking emotion as he gestured to the house on the left they were approaching.

“Yeah,” she answered quietly. He peeled into the driveway with all the subtlety of a jet engine and she winced as he slammed on the brakes, car smoking to a stop with a powerful lurch. She glanced out the window, eyes scanning the neighborhood street. “I don’t see Steve’s car,” she said, voice falling flat against the glass.

“What a shame,” Billy drawled, killing the engine before stepping out of the car. He ripped his sunglasses off his face, tossing them carelessly on the dashboard before slamming the door behind him.

She was quick to follow him, pulling her coat tight before circling around the front of the car. She eyed his attire, wondering how the nip in the air wasn’t turning his uncovered skin to ice.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, running to catch up as he began marching towards the front door with a purpose.

“No,” he answered shortly before ringing the doorbell.

“Are you alright?” Annie finally asked, studying his profile against the moonlight. “You seem… off.”

“Fit as a fiddle, sweets,” he replied offhandedly before ringing the doorbell again. “C’mon, god damn it, I don’t got all night!”

“Maybe they’re not home,” she suggested. “Seems to be a common theme as of late.”

He rang the doorbell three more times, quick enough to where the peals almost molded together into one chiming bell, reminding her of an obnoxious girl scout trying to sell cookies. Annie bit back the urge to scold him, squinting as the porch light suddenly turned on. Billy smirked over at her and she licked her lips just as the door flew open, revealing Mrs. Wheeler in a dark velvet bathrobe, the tips of her high up do wet. Annie blinked.

“Oh,” Mrs. Wheeler said, her thin face transitioning from one of mild annoyance to surprise. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Billy smiled slowly back, eyes drinking in the scantily-clad woman from head to toe. Annie’s lips thinned at this. “I didn’t realize Nancy had a sister.”

“Oh brother,” Annie muttered, squinting at the way the woman flushed at the compliment.

“Actually,” Mrs. Wheeler said, eyes bright and smile coy. “I’m Nancy’s mother.”

“No,” Billy said, as if he didn’t believe her.

“Yes,” Annie rebutted, glaring over at him before bestowing the woman with a forced smile of her own. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler,” she greeted with emphasis. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m friends with Steve. I was wondering if Steve has been here at all today.”

Mrs. Wheeler looked put off by Annie’s interruption and she readjusted her robe, her smile shifting a bit.

“I do remember you. Annie, right? No, no I haven’t seen Steve in a while. Don’t tell me he’s gone missing now too,” Mrs. Wheeler put her hand to her excessively damp chest. It took Billy a few seconds to tear his gaze away.

“Oh if only that were the case,” he shoved Annie out of the way a bit, holding out a hand to Mrs. Wheeler. “I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

They shook hands, the touch lingering longer than necessary and Annie looked away, cheeks flaring in annoyance.

“Billy,” the woman grinned, for the moment forgetting that Annie existed. “You must be here for Nancy, then?”

“Nancy?” a look of disgust flickered across Billy’s face but he quickly covered it up with a charming smile. “No, no, no. She’s not my type. Right, sweets?” he nudged Annie sharply in the side and she shot him a glare. Mrs. Wheeler glanced between the two of them and if Annie didn’t know any better she’d say the woman’s grin turned slightly sour.

“He’s looking for his little sister,” Annie inputted in hopes of moving the conversation along. “Her name’s Max—“

“Maxine,” Billy corrected, releasing the woman’s hand. He flashed his teeth at her. “She’s been missing all day and, uh, to be honest with you I’ve been worried sick. I tried Lucas Sinclair’s house,” he informed her, surprising Annie, “but she said your house was the designated hang out so here I am,” he leaned against the doorframe, leaning in close with a private smile that made Annie roll her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, do you? With your son, perhaps?”

Mrs. Wheeler stared at Billy for a second before blinking herself out of her stupor, cheeks flushed. “Oh, um… no, no I don’t believe I’ve seen her. You could try Will Byers’ house?”

“Will Byers,” Billy repeated. Mrs. Wheeler brightened again.

“Do you need directions? I wouldn’t mind writing them down for you, if you’d like to come inside…”

“No, no, that’s fine, Mrs. Wheeler,” Annie interjected loudly with an overbearing smile. “I know where it is, I’ll show him there. Thanks for your help!”

She grabbed Billy by the hand and led him down the porch, tugging a bit to get him to move.

“I’ll see you around,” Billy gave the woman a heartbreaking smile and she noticeably bit her lip, which made Annie tug on him harder.

“When you find them, tell Mike to come home, will you?” Mrs. Wheeler shouted after them.

“Will do!” Annie shouted back before Billy could say anything else.

Billy let himself be pulled down to the driveway, chuckling as Annie whipped around to face him the second she heard the front door close.

“You do realize she’s over twice your age, don’t you?” she asked heatedly. Billy licked his lips.

“Jealous?”

“Nauseous,” she corrected.

He laughed lowly again, stepping forward a bit until their chests were nearly touching.

“You sounded jealous,” he told her quietly. She felt the warmth radiating off of him and her breathing hitched in her throat, her lips running dry.

“I’m not,” she denied, equally quiet. Billy tilted his head, exposing his sharp jawline and the way the tendons in his neck flexed. The stubble on his upper lip was more noticeable up close, and his pink lips gleamed from the saliva that coated them only seconds prior. She stared at them for a heated moment, her insides curling (whether it was pleasant or unpleasant she couldn’t tell) until she forced herself to back away, clearing her throat. “We need to find Steve and your sister. Let’s go.”

She stepped around the front of the car to the passenger side, yanking the door open with force.

Billy followed slowly, satisfied smirk present before it tersely dropped.

“She’s not my sister.”

He drove them in thick silence to the Byers’ house, both hands clutching the wheel this time. Annie side-eyed him a few times. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it, his concentration seemingly focused on the lull of the road. Annie played with her fingers in her lap, wondering if she’d managed to say something wrong.

“Is she adopted?” Annie asked carefully. Her voice was like glass shattering in the quiet. “Are you both adopted?”

“None of your business,” he snapped. Annie swallowed. That was fair enough.

“You know, Steve and I, we—“

“I don’t care,” Billy cut her off. Annie gazed over at him, lips still wordlessly moving.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I still don’t care.”

She quickly turned to look ahead again, feeling her cheeks redden from the irritation. He was so hot and cold. One minute he was teasing her, acting like a half-decent human being that wasn’t too horrible to be around, and the next he was short-tempered and impossible to talk to with an attitude and a god complex to boot. She didn’t know how to handle him, had never been around someone that acted the way he did. She wringed her fingers together and moved her gaze to the window, letting the rest of the drive succumb to the uncomfortable silence again.

Eventually they pulled into the Byers’ dark gravel driveway. Once again she didn’t spot Steve’s car anywhere and her shoulders slumped, making her wonder if she should’ve just checked his house first after all and saved herself the headache.

The lights in the house were on and Billy killed the engine before lighting himself a cigarette. Annie’s nose wrinkled at the smoke filling the car and Billy turned a cold smirk on her.

“Let’s go find your lover boy.”

He stepped out of the car and Annie muttered curtly beneath her breath, “He’s not my lover boy,” before following him out.

She peered up at the small house, spotting a figure lurking at the window with a head of familiar red hair. She glanced at Billy out of the corner of her eye to see if he noticed yet, only to hear the front door click open.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

Annie’s head whipped over to the door and she found herself exhaling in relief at the sight of her best friend stepping down from the porch. She almost smiled at the sight of him, but it was quickly replaced by a frown. What was he doing here?

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

He was giving Billy a hard look, shoulders squared as if he was ready to start a fight and Annie’s brows furrowed. She closed the passenger door, directing Steve’s attention in her direction. His face slackened into one of stunned confusion.

“Annie?” he exclaimed, taking an unintentional step forward. “What the hell are you doing with him?”

“He was just giving me a ride,” Annie dismissed.

“Hell of a ride,” Billy quipped with a smirk, if only to piss to Steve off. It worked.

“I swear to god if you did anything to her—“

He stomped down the porch, his cherub-like face twisted in murderous rage, and Annie hurriedly stepped around the car to appease him.

“It was nothing like that!” she assured him, holding her hands out. “It was nothing, honest. It was just a ride,” her eyes flickered between him and the kids not-so-subtly watching them through the window. “What’s going on?” she asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Billy interjected, the material of his jacket rustling as he tugged it off and dropped it in the rocks. “What’s going on, Harrington? A little birdie told me my step-sister was here,” he announced, tucking his thumb in his belt, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. “See, how weird of a coincidence would that be if she were here at the same time you were?”

“Huh, that would be weird,” Steve shrugged, his face sharp. “Sorry, don’t know her.”

“Small, red hair, bit of a bitch?” Billy tried, tone callous. Steve stiffened and Annie glanced anxiously between them.

“No idea,” Steve said airily. He nodded at Annie. “C’mon Ann, come inside. It’s cold.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Billy stepped in before Annie could move. “I can keep her warm just fine. Here, sweetheart,” he picked his leather jacket up off the ground and tossed it to her without removing his eyes from Steve’s. She barely caught it, surprised by its weight. “Put that on over your coat. Wouldn’t want that pretty face to catch a cold.”

Steve’s jaw clenched and his eyes flickered to Annie’s, who was holding the jacket loosely with trepidation.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on if you come inside,” Steve told her, voice gentler.

“Maybe she wants to stay outside,” said Billy, taking a step toward Steve. “You know, with the big boys.”

“Billy,” Annie hedged warily. He’d seemed like a ticking time bomb all night and she had a feeling Steve was about to press all the right buttons and set him off. The last thing she wanted was to see a fight break out, especially if she was part of the reason behind it.

“It’s alright, Annie,” Billy said, voice somehow endearing yet snide at the same time. “I just wanna have a chat.”

Steve straightened his spine, hands on his hips as he sneered at the curly-haired boy.

“Alright, Hargrove. I’ll bite. Let’s have a chat.”

Annie’s stomach dropped.

She had a really bad feeling.

[ukulelewrites]

In Terms of Fire & Ice {2}

A/N: Part 2 is up! There are little hints in here regarding the other boys’ stories. If you catch them (I made them pretty obvious) which one are you most excited for? Tbh i really want to know! I’ll tag @smols-n-tols bc they’re just a great group of supportive people who yell at me whenever I lose sleep just to write lmao ily y’all

Pairing: Wanna One’s Seongwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst, fuckboi!seongwoo, rich!seongwoo, enemies to lovers!au

Word Count: Roughly 1k

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Bound in leather, yellow with age, the journal that sat on the third shelf of the southernmost bookshelf in the second library had been with the school since its opening in 1917. Inscribed on the first page, in cursive handwriting, were the words, “Welcome to the Cherry Pickers’ Club.”

The six boys lounged in Jonghyun and Minhyun’s dorm room. “So…who’s still a virgin at this school?” Jonghyun asked from his desk, cheeks flushing scarlet at his rather scandalous question. Daniel, who was laying on the floor flipping through one of Jonghyun’s manga, spoke up, “Well, Minhyun, Jonghyun, Jaehwan,” he stopped when Jaehwan chucked a football at his head. “He meant female virgins, smartass,” Jaehwan snapped, ears bright red. Seongwoo looked up from his phone, “Well, there’s that girl in Minhyun’s business administrations class,” Minhyun shot him a confused look, “The one who always wears that oversized sweater over her uniform and sits near the back of the class.” Minhyun let out a sound of realization. Seongwoo continued, “And then there’s that girl who’s always late to our math class, Jonghyun.” Jonghyun furrowed his eyebrows before a look of realization dawned on his face, “Ah! She’s the one who’s always doodling on her notes or sleeping in class…wait, but isn’t she kind of scary?” the other boys looked at him, begging for clarification, “She always shows up with bruised knuckles and stuff…And there’s a rumor going around her dad’s in the mafia or something…” The boys waved him off, of course Jonghyun would be the one to be scared of a girl. “Plus,” Seongwoo leaned forward so all the boys could hear as he dropped his voice ten volumes, “I heard the TA for the music tech class was one too.” The boys ooh’d at the newfound information. “And what about you, Seongwoo? Going for any of them?” Hyunbin asked from the floor. Seongwoo simply leaned back against the wall, “Too easy, I’ve got my eyes on a bigger challenge.”

“Go away, Seongwoo,” you snapped, not even looking up from your notebook. “How’d you know it was me, sweetheart? Obsessed enough with me to sense my presence?” he leaned down, sending you a smirk. You rolled your eyes and looked up, “Your ego made its presence; I was practically suffocating.” He placed his hands on your desk, leaning forward until his nose was almost touching yours; you felt everyone focus their attention on the two of you, and you glared at him with all the fury you could muster from your body. “You coming to the bonfire Saturday?” You narrowed your eyes at him; of course you were going, everyone goes to Daniel’s back-to-school bonfire, even if they barely knew the guy. “And why does that matter to you?” you asked, patience growing thin. He scoffed, placing his hand on his chest in mock offence, “Aren’t we friends, Y/N?” You shot him a look and returned your attention back to your notes. Seongwoo chuckled to himself, “Of course not, we’re something much more, right, Y/N?” He cupped your chin and tilted your head up to look at him, sending you a satisfied smile. You froze in your seat before remembering there were spectators, reverting back to your default scowl and swatted his hand away. “Pull that shit again, Ong, and I’ll have you suspended for harassment.”

“Any luck?” Daniel asked over lunch. The six boys sat together at their corner table, hunched forward and speaking in low whispers, just in case anybody walking by could overhear their conversation. “I’m too scared to talk to girls…” Jonghyun mumbled, mouth half full with food. Minhyun looked up from his textbook, “I sit next to her in math class now, doesn’t mean I’ll accomplish it anytime soon.” Daniel leaned back and turned his attention to Jaehwan and Hyunbin, who both just shook their heads. “Seongwoo, buddy, please tell me you were able to at least find a virgin?” Daniel pleaded, turning to his best friend. Seongwoo, on the other hand, was relaxed, peacefully chomping on his apple. “Boys, seduction is an art; you can’t expect a girl to simply hand her virginity over to you on a silver platter. You have to coax it out of her, makes sure she’s the one to give it up, not you forcing it from her,” Seongwoo stated matter-of-factly. Daniel snorted at his friend’s tone, “Dude, we know that. I’m just asking because you won’t tell us who your target is.” Out of the corner of his eye, Seongwoo caught you walking by with Nayoung; he leaned back and sent you a casual wave; you just rolled your eyes and continued to your table. Daniel’s eyes widened in realization, “Y/N? Ice princess, Y/N? You’re going after her?” Seongwoo just nodded, “I’ve always liked a challenge.”

“Nayoung,” you called in shock; she stuck her head out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet. “Yes, Y/N?” she said, pattering across your shared room to stand behind your chair. She leaned over your shoulder to look at the part of your screen that you were pointing at, water droplets landing on your shirt. Her eyes widened, “Oh my god! You did it! You got into the internship!” She instantly hugged you from behind. You beamed up at her, “I start next Monday, and there’s another intern there too, so I might make a new friend that doesn’t see me as an ice princess.” Nayoung walked over to your shared closet, rummaging around for an acceptable dress. “They don’t go to Evanson?” You shrugged, “Rivers & Martin rarely accept interns from the same school, so highly unlikely.” She had tugged on her red dress at this point and was now trying to find her flats. “Y/N,” you looked up from your laptop, “aren’t you going to get dressed?” You looked down to find yourself still in your pajamas, “Yeah, I should probably do that.”

Daniel’s family’s lake house was a ten minute drive away from the school. You and Nayoung stepped out of your car, thanking your chauffeur before heading towards the gate leading to the backyard. Daniel was standing at the gate, greeting guests. He shot you guys a warm smile before handing you a soda can, “I know you two don’t really drink, so I got a couple sodas for you,” he said. “Thanks, Daniel,” you said, giving him a small smile. Even though his best friend is an asshat, it doesn’t mean Daniel was. “No problem, enjoy the party!” You and Nayoung stuck together as you wove through the swarm of people occupying the grounds. “I’m gonna go see if I can find Dongho,” Nayoung shouted over the music. You nodded and waved her off, pointing towards the keg where Dongho stood talking to Minhyun. “Good luck,” you mouthed, giving her a thumbs up. “Well, looks like it’s just you and me.” You turned around to see Seongwoo in a red flannel and black jeans, and out of default, you scowled. “Tsk, don’t you know scowling causing wrinkles,” he said, a smile painting his tone. He ran his thumb over your forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. “Makes sense since you automatically add ten years to my life,” you retorted, swatting his hand away. Seongwoo shook his head dejectedly, “I come over here to tell you that you look cute tonight and all I get are insults.” You looked down at your light blue dress. “After all, the dress really fits the whole ‘ice princess’ aesthetic you’ve got going on,” he gave you a thumbs up, and you instantly whirled around on your heels and stalked away.

“Can you believe the nerve of some people? He practically made me out as some untouchable ice princess. And here he is trying to make himself out as my friend!” Nayoung just cocked her head at your fury, “Nayoung, I can’t even get a boyfriend without the guy trying to cop a feel on the first date thinking he’ll ‘fix’ me,” you raged to your best friend as the two of you stood side by side in your bathroom removing your makeup. “Well, at least you’ll be at your internship every afternoon now, less chances of running to him on campus.” You smiled at the thought of not seeing Seongwoo; however your mood instantly darkened when you remembered your shared math class. “The fucker still has math with me; I’ll have to see his face and obnoxiously large ego for a good hour each day,” you groaned, rubbing furiously at your eye with the cotton pad. Nayoung just shrugged, finishing up and heading out of the bathroom. You finished and trailed after her. “There will always be the bad parts of life, Y/N. Just try thinking of the good things, like chocolate and Kang Dongho’s face,” she swooned. You laughed, “Or, ya know, my internship at the biggest law firm in the country, but Kang Dongho’s face is a good second.” Nayoung rolled her eyes at your comment, “Kang Dongho’s face is a gift from god, Y/N, a gift.” You crawled into your bed and turned off the lamp, “Mhm, you now what’s a gift from god? An internship that takes me far far away from Ong Seongwoo.”

[reprisedpiece]

Closing Credits

Pairing: Mike Faist x FilmMajor!Reader

Warning: curse words (bc when do i not use swear words in fics), character gets anxious

Request: “FilmMajor! Reader with mike Faist would END my existence Y e S”

Word Count: 1912

Note: i said like three days ago that the next mike faist request i get, ill write it in newsies-mike era bc i just miss that :-) although im not really proud of this? idrk i might delete this or at least edit it again. feel free to message me and tell me what ya think !

MASTERLIST

Mike let out a hiss as he stretched his arm, quickly reaching up with his other arm in order to soothe the sore bicep. He cursed at himself for not doing the extra warm routine before doing the cartwheels and flips during rehearsals. 

Right now, he was just looking forward for two things. Those two being a warm shower and you. He preferred having both at the same time but he knew you were in the middle of editing so he buried the idea at the back of his head, just until both of your schedules lighten up.

He shared a small apartment with you, a film major attending in NYU. The two of you have spent three years in your little space, more than glad that the two of you had the chance to live in a district renowned for its support with arts and theatre.

Mike began walking back to your apartment, already thinking of which movie the two of you were bound to watch.

Being with a film major like yourself, most of your afternoons and evenings consisted of watching movies while eating healthy snacks for the sake of Mike’s current job. These moments usually end up with you rambling about the cinematography of the film, its interpretation and impact to the audience, and even picking out some aspects that you would have changed.

Mike finally reached the door of your place, unlocking the door before removing his shoes and leaving his bag by the door. He plops down on the couch where he has left you this morning.

You still haven’t changed your clothes. You were still wearing his hoodie and a pair of shorts. Your glasses were slightly crooked, probably from rubbing your eyes too much he guessed. The pieces of your hair which fell from your bun framed your delicate face. Your eyes were still trained on your computer screen, the expression on your face was something he couldn’t read.

He scoots closer to you, placing his palm on the back of your neck. He slowly rubbed your shoulders, feeling how stiff there are. 

“You’ve been sitting here for so long, babe.” He muttered as he started to knead the muscle. He felt you jolt from slight discomfort before melting back into his palm.

Your haven’t faced him once since he has arrived and Mike grew a bit weary. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispered, his eyes scanning your face as he searched for any hints of discomfort.

“We’re done.” You whispered back, not turning your head even one. He felt his chest tighten, a shock running down his spine. He was hoping he heard wrong.

“What?” Mike panics. His mind instantly ran through all his actions for the past few days, mentally listing down anything that could possibly caused you to want to end things with him.

“We’re done.” You repeated. You couldn’t even process your own words. All you knew was that you were done. His hands immediately grasped yours, placing kisses onto your knuckles as he cradled them to his chest

“Y/N, what? I though we were happy. Why do you want to-”

“Our film is finally finished.” You whispered with a shaky breath as your were flooded with emotions, squeezing his hand. Mike suddenly stops and drops your hands to his lap, blinking twice before realizing that you were talking about your class’s final project.

He let out a sigh, leaning back into the couch. “You scared the shit out of me, Y/N!” He exclaimed, rubbing his eyes to remove the tears that were about to form. The sudden rise in volume made you turn your head to face him.

“Why?” You chuckled, still confused. “Why did that scare you? All I said was-” Your face fell as you realized how polysemantic your statement was.

You immediately jumped on top of him, wrapping your arms around him. “No, no, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I was talking about the project we’ve been-”

Mike wrapped his own arms around yours. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I should have known you were talking about your film.” He said while chuckling. You felt the vibrations of his laughter against your own.

You only tightened your arms around him. “I’m really sorry for scaring you.” You apologized again. Mike kissed your forehead sweetly before peeling you away from his body so he can face you.

“Stop apologizing,” He started, moving one of his hands from your waist to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and fixing your glasses. “And show me your class’s new film!” He continued, smiling at you from ear to ear.

He swore he could fall in love with you again and again. Your eyes twinkled with passion when he brought up the film. “Let’s watch it later! Once it’s finished rendering.” You leaned back forward, giving him a kiss on the lips before the scent of sweat hit your nose.

Your nose crinkled at the smell as you pulled back. “And after you shower. You stink.” You say, which earned you a poke on your side.

“I was about to before you gave me that scare!” He laughed, lifting you from his lap and placed you gently on the couch. He hovered you for a couple of second, giving you a chaste kiss. You could still taste the orange juice that he drank this morning from his lips.

He pulled away, not after pecking your lips one last time, to go to the bathroom. You slapped his butt as he walked away. “Don’t take too long!” You yelled out to him, giggling as he wiggled his butt out to you when he walked away.

After half an hour, the film finished exporting and you already have it opened in your laptop. Mike sat beside you with an arm around your shoulders. He reached for the spacebar so he could play it but you caught his wrist.

He looked at you, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Just know that this isn’t the final final editing.”

“Babe, it’s going to be fine-”

“Like I know I’m the one in charge of the final editing but yeah. If you see any mistakes or a glitch, just tell me and I’ll-”

He quickly placed his finger against your lips. “Nonetheless, your film will be amazing.” He reassured you. You leaned back into his chest, finger hovering over the space button.

“You don’t even know what it’s about.” You muttered under your breath.

“Sure, I do!” You raised your eyebrow at him. He just nodded. “I’m not kidding. I know it’s about an orphan schizophrenic women who fell in love with a writer and she finds out that her parents were killed by him,” 

You looked up at him with awe. “Wow, I didn’t realize-”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” He interrupted you. A smile crept up your face as you nodded for him to continue telling the plot of the film.

“Then it turns out her parents were alive! Her, being an orphan and falling love with a writer, it was all part of the illusion.” He finished.

“Whoa.”

“See? I listen to you when you rambled about it.” He said, proud of himself to be able to memorize the plot.

“Alright, hot shot. What happens in the ending?” You asked him cockily, knowing that he wouldn’t know the answer.

He just stared at you with a pout. “Y/N, you know you never told me that.”

“I know, I just wanted to annoy the shit out of you.” You stated rather boldly, turning to face the screen.

“But good news is, you get to find out now!” You pressed the spacebar, the all too familiar opening credits appearing.

You nestled further into Mike, resting your head on his shoulder as he let his head fall on top of yours. He held your hand, rubbing circles at the back of it.

He gave you a kiss on the cheek. “This will be amazing, I know it.”

The closing credits of the film rolled down and your eyes were welling up with tears. You were extremely proud of what you’ve done and how the entire film turned out to be. 

The two of you sat in silence. You were a bit nervous to look up at Mike. While you are indeed proud of your work, you weren’t in the mood for a negative reaction right now. And that was what you were scared off.

It’s been a couple of minutes now and he was still silent.

You let out a slightly disappointed sigh. “Mike, you can tell me if you didn’t like-” You immediately stopped talking when you felt a small drop of water hit your cheek. You reached up to touch your eyes but they were relatively dry with no tears falling from them. Your gaze shifted upwards, only to land on Mike’s tear-stained face. He was silent yet the tears didn’t stop. His hand was holding yours tightly, as you were going to disappear in any moment.

You quickly shifted your weight to the back of your knees, turning around so that your entire body was facing Mike. You gently cradled his face in your hands, wiping away the tears.

“Mike?” You whispered, your eyes trying to catch his gaze.

When they did, he pushed your hands away from his face before hugging you tightly to his chest.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered, his voice breaking. He buried his face into your neck. You felt warm tears slipping from his eyes to to your shirt. You held him close to you tightly, whispering and reminding him that he won’t lose you.

You pulled away slightly so you can make him face you.

“Where is this all coming from?” You ask worriedly, rubbing soothing circles against his cheek.

Mike sniffed, wiping the tears away from his face. He took in a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry. The ending of the film was too much.” He said as he ran his hands up and down your sides.

“And add that with the melancholic music score and the cinematography,” He chuckled at how silly he must look right now. “I’m just really sorry, it hit me hard.”

You were out of words. Your heart fell when you realized how much the film affected him. You cradled his jaw with your left hand, leaning forward to give him a kiss.

He quickly reciprocated, positioning his hands on your waist as your lips moved against each other.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his lips. You felt him smile in the kiss as he mumbled an ‘I love you’ back.

You pulled away slowly, giving him one last peck on the forehead. “You’re okay?”

He nodded, a lazy grin plastered on his face. “More than okay.”

He pulled you down towards his body, until your face was nuzzled against his chest. “That film was beautiful.” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It really was, it had me in tears.” He chuckled.

“Thank you.” Your cheeks misted with a rose tint. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’re going to kill it out there. You’ll be breaking hearts, spreading smiles, and just flooding people with emotions.” He spoke softly, tilting your head so you were facing him.

He was grinning down at you, eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration for you. He looked at you with pride.

“You’re an artist, Y/N. You’re the one to watch.” 

[wizzard890]

Hi Emily! Do you have any advice for moving out? I'm gay and finally moving out to the dorms for college, but it's been stressing me out bc 1) I've never been truly out of the closet before but would like to be, but also I don't know how to handle if my apartment mates are homophobic, 2) the incoming train of financial burden is horrifying and 3) my parents are literally like, you're on your own for preparation for what to bring to your dorm, and I don't know the minimum essential things to get

whoo boy. well, congrats on moving out, and don’t worry, it’s nerve wracking and exciting for everyone, all your roommates will be feeling the same way!

1) idk where you’re going to be living or what college you’re attending, but I never once had a roommate in school who gave a single fuck what kind of sex I was trying to have. it’s college, everyone is desperately trying to climb on one another while naked, most people are way too busy with their own romantic trials to pay any attention to yours. however, on the off chance that your roommates are assholes, that’s what your RA is for. RAs will help mediate bad situations, or even assist you with the process of finding new people to live with. you’ll meet them the first week you arrive, and if you’re worried, go ahead and forge a relationship with them. they love that. think of them as a mom friend with actual institutional power. 

2) I wish I had something bright to say about that. unless you’re very lucky college is a financial nightmare. I worked all through college, and it was rough, but it will help offset loan repayments later. my only advice would be to become fluent in the language of financial aid. scope out how you can take advantage of what’s offered, and don’t be caught off-guard by anything. being well-informed is always a good defense, and it helps me sleep better at night. 

3) your parents are being incredibly unhelpful. obviously you’ll need your clothes and shoes and textbooks and toiletries and whatnot, but beyond that, here’s a basic list to get you started:

a small toolbox

large tupperware containers you can slide under your bed for storage

bedclothes (two sets, so you can do your laundry)

a laundry hamper

a standing lamp, preferably one with those little bendy second lights so you can use it as a desk lamp too

a shower caddy and flip flops if you have to walk to the bathroom

a bathrobe

a towel and washcloths that you have to keep to yourself, shared dorm bathrooms are a nightmare, do not let these items out of your sight

hangers

A MICROWAVE

a hot water pot

dishes + glasses + utensils; not enough to have a party, but enough to make yourself some kraft macaroni with blues clues shapes at 1am

you don’t have to bring food, but be ready to pick some up once you’re settled; chances are you won’t have room for a fridge, so stick to the pantry stuff.

extension cords and power strips

posters/art/photos: having these around makes a huge difference when you’re settling into a cinderblock box. I had a giant black and white poster of bob dylan, a wall of photos I took in England when I was sixteen, some victorian king arthur paintings, and anti-communist cold war propaganda in the bathroom. 

(One last bit of advice unrelated to dorm rooms: I spent my freshman year of college drinking like it was the end of the world. like, no exaggeration, I barely remember most of that year. which wasn’t great, because I ended up in the hospital twice for things that weren’t drinking-related but that I might have caught or noticed sooner if I hadn’t been hungover or drunk all the time. don’t do that. don’t be me. drink in moderation, and only on fridays and saturdays. try to get into wine early so you can only afford so much, and so you aren’t taking tequila shots off of a stranger’s abdomen in an apartment row next to the railroad tracks while it blizzards outside. it’s a grey moment of embarrassing drunken epiphany, and one I don’t want you to have to have.)

So, be responsible, study hard, and remember to always buy lightbulbs for your room. good luck! you’re going to have an awesome time!

[angelicrome]

Eyes│a.i

i’m like 110%  sure i’ve used that gif before but whatever - also this is rly good like read it you won’t regret it lmao, i’m begging 

Series: Paid to be Popular - The Purpose of Love - Bittersweet Generation

Requested: no, but i had a convo w @calumofficials a very long time ago about college!ashton lmao

Pairing: Art major!Ashton x Y/N

Description: When Y/N looks over the cute and curly-haired art major’s shoulder, she realises who he has been drawing for a long period of time; her.

It had become a normal thing for Ashton just to sit outside on the grass with a sandwich by his side and his sketchbook in his lap as he leant up against that one bench and then he would just draw whatever or whoever crossed his road. Sometimes it would be a gloomy flower in front of him, other times it would be scenarios or a person with a crazy hairdo just walking past. This had become a habit. After lunch, he would just sit down on the grass, not on the bench, but on the grass. Normally, he would take his lunch with him, maybe even some music occasionally. Drawing everything that he could think of.

This day was no different. He sat with his brown, round glasses on the bridge of his nose, the curls laying perfectly messy on his head, and his tongue sticking out as he focused on the current drawing. A girl. The girl he had slowly become more attracted to. He didn’t know her. All he knew was that after lunch she would be sitting with her friends on the lawn, the exact same time Ashton was.

Ashton leant against the bench with a sigh. Ten meters in front of him the girl he was drawing was sitting with a smile and friends surrounding her. He didn’t draw her friends, it was only her. It was her eyes that had caught him, the way the sunlight hit them. He sighed out of frustration. Her eyes were special - and he couldn’t draw them right.

He had used days on drawing her. Three days, to be exact. She looked ridiculous - not in person, but on his paper.

She looked his way, turned her head towards his figure. His eyes had automatically gazed towards her, as they did when he didn’t focus on drawing. And she looked his way, caught his eyes and Ashton forgot to look away. Her eyes were mesmerising, the way the shadows from the tree above danced on her face, the only light being her eyes. She had stopped talking with her friends and just… she just looked as Ashton as if he was a creature, something she had never seen before.

Fuck, Ashton thought. It wasn’t normal to look a stranger in the eyes. Especially, when you were drawing that exact stranger without the stranger knowing. If, if, the stranger found out about the scribble on the sheet on Ashton’s lap, she would think he was weird. Insane, even.

So, instead, Ashton cut her out. Looked down to the paper and started drawing long lines across her waist. He focused on something else on the drawing now, something that wasn't her eyes. He cut her out completely, pushed his glasses up and forgot about time. Forgot about the small talk, forgot about the girl.

Time passed and now the only thing missing on the drawing of the girl was the eyes. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair before looking up at her usual spot under the tree. But she wasn’t there. Neither were her friends. The only thing left was the tree, still casting shadows on the lawn.

“You’re a really good drawer,” Ashton flinched at the unknown voice. It was calm, and the words were said with care and sincerity. He looked up only to find the girl with the eyes, the girl he had been drawing for three days. Her eyes were scanning the paper and her lips were thin before they turned into a faded, loveable smile. Ashton didn’t say anything. The sounds of birds filled campus and the girl sat down beside him - not on the bench, but leaning against the bench.

“Is that me?” She asked with a smirk and nodded towards the paper. Ashton quickly closed his sketchbook and put away his pencil as if it was going to delete what she had seen.

“Uh, I just draw whatever…” Ashton murmured and fumbled with the sketchbook in his hands, his face turning red as his stomach flipped. 

“Why don’t I have any eyes?” She questioned with furrowed eyebrows. He could feel how close she was, how she watched every move he made. But he didn’t look at her - but at the tree ten meters in front of him. The tree she would normally sit under.

“I… I haven’t gotten to that yet,” Ashton answered, closed the book and bit his lip. The girl didn’t say anything for a solid second before she pulled the book out of his lap and looked through it. She stopped at a few of his best drawings until she reached the latest, hers.

“Could you finish it? Even if I'm sitting right next to you?” Her voice was quieter as she studied the page. She studied the lines drawn with a single pencil and ran her fingers down the paper with an impressed look.

“I don’t know,” Ashton said slowly and watched how she analysed herself on paper, almost scared to take his book back. “You’re not exactly easy to draw.”

Her head shot up towards him and for the first time, they looked into each other’s eyes. Ashton couldn’t look away as the colours blurred together in her eyes, giving her a curious exotic look. Somehow, he had caught her attention with the way he drew and the way he talked, just like she had caught his.

“Why not?” She sounded almost hurt and Ashton quickly took the book back and stared the drawing. It was hard to draw such a stunning girl with a hint of mystery.

“Your eyes are… they’re kinda hard to draw.” Ashton nodded and turned his head towards the sheet.

“Why?”

“They’re just… they have a special glimpse. A glimpse you can’t draw.” He bickered, raising his voice a bit more than intentionally. She looked away from him and his drawing and said completely stiffly. The heat rose to her cheeks as she thought about her words.

“I’m Y/N - if you ever needed a name for the girl.” It was almost a whisper, and Ashton closed his book and put it aside, hiding it under the bench.

“Ashton.” He answered and reached forward to shake her hand. As he looked her in the eyes for the second time, a smile appeared on her beautiful lips.

“I know that. I’ve heard about you.” She said and nodded with a sly smirk. Ashton’s cheeks got a deep red undertone.

“What?” He questioned with a smirk, his dimples appeared under his blushed cheeks as he looked away for a moment before looking at her again.

“Ashton. The cute and curly-haired art major.” She changed her voice to a high-pitched sounding and batted her eyelashes, looking at the air as if she was in love. Clearly, she was impersonating someone she knew. Ashton chuckled at her as she stopped her ‘acting’. “I live with three other girls.”

Ashton ruffled up his curls, trying to hide his face just for one second because of the embarrassment. Ashton never saw himself as… wanted among girls. They usually left him alone with his drawings and gave him weird looks when they walked by.

“I did not know that.” Ashton grinned, as his confidence grew. He looked her in the eyes, only to see how flustered she was getting.

“Yeah, you’re pretty popular among the girls around campus.” She murmured and fiddled with one of the silver bracelets around her wrist. A small heart was hanging loosely as a charm to the bracelet.

“That’s not how I experience it,” Ashton said quietly. Y/N was looking at him with big eyes, knowing that in a minute she had class. Why couldn’t he just ask her out yet? She needed to leave soon and… she didn’t want to leave without a date or at least his number.

“Me neither. Guys aren’t exactly standing in line for me.” She hinted and put a stray of hair behind her ear. Ashton's eyes widened with joy.

“Really? So no boyfriend? Even with your gorgeous eyes?” The last sentence wasn’t supposed to be said out loud and Ashton coughed slightly as soon as he had realised what he had said. But Y/N only giggled at him and shook her head.

“No boyfriend.” Her eyes light up as he watched her, thinking about his next move.

“Would you want one?” He questioned and bit his bottom lip, thinking. A huge smile smeared across her face as she tilted her head with a laugh.

“Are you asking me out?” She decided to give Ashton a small push to get him to ask her on a date. She couldn’t wait forever.

“Maybe… uh, I mean, yes. Yes, I am.” He stammered and fiddled with his long fingers. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“I would love to.” She giggled and looked at Ashton with a serenity. “Should I write down my number somewhere?”

“Sure.” He said and quickly pulled out his sketchbook from under the bench. He found the page with the drawing of Y/N and reached her his pencil. She held back a smile, as she wrote down her digits at the bottom of the page, quickly standing up from the grass.

“I have class now.” The sun shined in her eyes, making her squint as she looked down at Ashton with a smile. The colour seemed to change as the light hit her and she blinked a couple times, her hair hiding parts of her face. Ashton was almost hypnotised as he studied her eyes. They had a soft glimmer of knowledge and eagerness, and Ashton had completely forgotten about time as he realised what he was missing on his drawing. He had figured out why he just couldn’t get her eyes to look as stunning as they did in person.

“I’ll call you. Or text you.” He said and Y/N nodded with a smirk. Before she was gone, Ashton had already begun drawing the missing piece in her eyes.

After endless talking on the phone when Ashton had gotten home that day, they sat a time and place for the first date. And instead of flowers Ashton brought Y/N the finished drawing of her.

And the eyes looking as striking and complex on paper as they did in person.  

A/N: i literally had zero idea for the title but i decided to call it eyes bc it’s a beautiful story - i actually think this imagine is one of my favourites ever which is great :))

Masterlist // Talk to me (and give me feedback lmao)

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #15: Melon’s Creed

The Carmel Bunkers on Turó de la Rovir. Stone barriers overlook the great city of Barcelona. John Bishop Church quietly admired the breathtaking view on this day just on the precipice of the sun setting. He leaned over the wall and seemed oblivious to the camera filming him. He had the hood of his light grey jacket up. His boots and the bottoms of his blue jeans were covered in dirt from the hike to this locale. He spoke out into the ether. “Hey.” He spoke in a conversational tone and let that set in before continuing. “This whole thing has been a humbling experience. In this last year, I’ve had the privilege to do what I’ve always wanted to do. And to enter into a partnership that has been absolutely exhilarating to be a part of. Since NSFW’s humble roots, we have scraped and clawed our way to the top. There has been a common thread throughout. Somebody somewhere has claimed that they do what they do for a divine purpose.” He scoffed. “Whether it be the megalomaniacal ramblings of a prophet, the dissidents of chaos …” John sighed, perhaps perturbed at the mere mention of this. “...or the machinations of the melon gods. Such grand proclamations are fruitless in the face of the golden standard of tag team wrestling. Now, Mike …” There was a pause. He pushed off of the wall and turned around - looking to the stairs that descend down the hill. “Mike?” “Dude!” The redhead, backpack over her shoulders and clad in a grey unzipped hoodie over a Carlos Ruiz t-shirt, appeared over the crest of the hill a moment after her name was mentioned, puffing a bit as if she’d started running as soon as she realized how far she’d fallen behind her partner. “My legs don’t know how to be as long as yours, man. Phew…” Catching her breath, the Bronx brawler raised a hand, wiping some sweat off her brow. “Besides, I kinda got distracted. You won’t believe what I found. It’s full of so much crazy shit, I dunno if I can look at the world the same fuckin’ way again.” Reaching back, Mike unzipped her pack and pulled out a large, dirty, ancient looking book, fraying at the corners and tops of the spine. Embossed on the cover, with traces of nearly worn away gilding, are the words ‘ARCANA CUCUMIS’. “What?” Coming the rest of the way up and leaning against one of the curved concrete walls, Mike flipped the book open with care, as not to jar any of the yellowed pages loose. Shifting a bit, she beckons her partner over, holds the tome up, and points at one of the pictures within. “I found this in the catacombs when we split away from the tour group to… when we split away from the tour group. Look at this shit. It’s like, all of the Melon Club’s fuckin’ secrets. I had no idea they went this far back and had their nasty vines stuck in so much stuff.” “Oh no.” John placed a hand on the page, obscuring its contents. He looked at his friend with concern. “This is Leviathan all over again.” “Nah man. This is worse. They’ve been in all of humanity’s fuckin’ key institutions. Look at this for example.” “These fuckers killed JESUS, man. I mean, according to the text here, fuckin’ Judas served him that melon, ironically enough, right before the big J.C. said one of his people was gonna betray him.” John gave the warped portrayal of the Last Supper a once over. “So Judas was part of the Melon Club.” His tone was deadpan and in no way inquisitive. “Exactly. But it doesn’t stop there. Look here.” “This guy, I’m sure you know, is L. Ron Fuckin’ Hubbard, the nutball behind Scientology. According to the book, people have been misunderstanding his writings all this time because of an elaborate cover up. See, Hubbard didn’t really mean Xenu. He meant…” She jabbed her finger at a specific spot on the image. “...honeydew.” John was exasperated in his own diminutive way. “The Melon Club are pulling the strings of the billion dollar multinational religion because?” Mike shrugged. “Power. Control. Y’know, all that shadow ops supervillain shit. And it’s not just the major stuff either. I mean, take a look here. I really feel bad about this one considering week before last…” She flipped a few pages, landing on a classical Grecian image. “The Eternal Circle are unknowing followers of the melon gods.” “Exactly. Sad, but true. I guess they gotta come to terms with that now.” ”Mike.” It was like a plea to come back to reality. “Look. Religious iconography has been changed to suit the needs of whoever used it. I’ve never been much a believer. I mean, maybe something exists. But all along its been the melon gods?” His fingers gestured dismissively at the book. “This … doesn’t make any sense.” “Yeah, I mean, I guess that’s true. But the thing is, it’s not just religion that these fucks have been manipulating. See? I mean, I know you for one are gonna be seriously pissed at this one. See, it looks like around 48 BC, the ancient Roman scholars were on the tail of uncovering the whole Melon conspiracy before it overwhelmed everyone. Luckily for them, no less than the Roman emperor, Julius Caesar, was a devotee and he made sure to have the entire library burned to the ground before anybody could find out the truth.” John’s bottom lip quivered slightly upon looking at the image. “All of that knowledge.” But he shook his head. “No. So next thing you’re going to tell me that his assassination was ordered when the Melon Club had no further use for him.” Mike snapped the fingers of her free hand. “YES. Exactly that. And it’s not the only assassination they’ve indulged in either. I mean, Arya herself’s a trained killer, it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that these people have bumped off anyone who was a threat to their fucking organization.” Mike grimaced as she flipped the page again. “They never did figure out who Oswald was working with. Or for. And that one picture of him, people always thought it was altered in some way. Well it fucking was. See?” “The Melon Club assassinated JFK.” “It’s the only thing that makes fucking sense. I mean all this time. All these theories and debates and discussions. The Zapruder film analyzed frame by fuckin’ frame. And all this time, Oswald was a lone gunman cuz only a Melon Club trained assassin could pull off a ricocheting shot like that.” “But… why?” Mike exhaled, then drew a breath in. “Because they fuckin’ can. Because Kennedy’s embargo on goods from Cuba was hurting the fuckin’ melon industry and that’s how they spread their fuckin’ propoganda. All those sweet, juicy cantaloupes, canaries, and watermelons that people gobble up without a second thought, not knowing every last bite is only serving the forces that control their entire fucking lives.” “Mike. I don’t know what to say. Maybe we’ve been lied to.” “You don’t know the half of it. It’s to the point now that they’re just meddling in things just to make everyone miserable. The Super Bowl a couple seasons back. Patriots vs. Falcons. The Falcons had the Pats dead to fucking rights. Brady was getting his stupid handsome face shoved in it and it was glorious. But then after the half they mounted this miraculous comeback that by all fucking rights shouldn’t even have been fucking possible. How? I stayed up fucking nights, man. I had no idea how the rug got yanked out from under the Falcons so utterly. But now. NOW I know. Look at this. The absolute bastards.” “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” “Oh yeah. You probably didn’t see it. Trust me, you’re better for it. It fucking sucked. Tom Brady is an asshole. He’s the absolute fucking worst human being ever shat out onto this sorry planet and the sooner everybody realizes what an overrated piece of crap he is the better.” John closed the book. The pages gave off a fine poof of dust as they slammed together. “Okay. So The Melon Club are zealots who throughout time have manipulated the world in every which way possible.” And then he pointed to Mike and himself. “And acquiring our tag team championships are now part of that great design?” “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? They have their claws in everything else. Why else would people trained in the fucking deadly arts be getting in the ring with us?” “And so we are the only people standing in the way of a new dark age?” “I mean, I found this thing in a crypt if that tells you anything. We know too much. They’rereally gonna want to take us out now, cuz we know how dangerous they are and we’re telling the whole fucking world so.” Mike glanced at the camera, brows knit in a very concerned fashion. Her fingers twiddled nervously between each other. “They’ve been here for months. Walter and Arya Melon. Mixed results. Between the bouts of tedium and fruit puns, I’ve inclined to tune them out. They win one tag match. Against two teams that chose to not take them seriously.” He placed a hand on the book. “We’re taking the Melon Club serious.” John joined Mike in looking directly at the camera. “Dead serious.” “To be frank, I underestimated you guys. My partner didn’t cuz he’s smarter than I am, but I looked at that three-way and you were the last fucking people I thought we’d wind up fighting. Shit, I’d already done some studying and had to throw it all out the window. The fact you pulled that shit out is proof you shouldn’t be taken lightly, whether or not you guys are part of a giant all consuming conspiracy wrapping the world in melony dominance.” “I thought we were going to have a viking problem on our hands. But instead, two cunning opportunists came away with the victory. And speaking of opportunities, it’s clear that through the facade, you two are students of the game. We know what you see as an opening.” Mike gave a firm nod, reaching up with her left hand. Her fingers were free, but the palm and wrist were done up in a cast, by now liberally covered with the signatures of friend and fan alike. “I’m not gonna pretend to know what you think of us. It’s probably better for everybody’s fuckin’ sanity that there’s no telling what’s going on in those, heh, melons of yours. But like my partner said, I know, we know, what you may be thinking about doing. Let me tell you for one, this hand? It ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ issue. Better people in this business than me have defended titles with far worse fuckin’ damage. It ain’t gonna slow me down.” She twiddled her fingers and then balled them up tight, forming a fist around the covered palm of her left hand. “Yeah. We’re not mind readers but we know what you want. And there is no fucking way in seven hells that you’re gonna get it, not at WrestleFest and not ever. You’re welcome to give it a shot, but a lot of teams have tried, and they’ve all met the same fuckin’ end.” The plaster casted fist slammed into the opposite palm. “Knocked for Six, kneed in the face, Cherry Bombed, put to sleep, and checked by the Bishop and the Queen.” “That’s not arrogance on our part. That’s just what happens. What will happen. And I get it. You two think you have divine providence on your side. What bounty have the melon gods gifted your little club? A middle in the pack finish in the Rumble. Trading victories with Frankie Romono. And now this. An opportunity.” He reached behind him and shoved the book out of the sight of the camera. The focus was solely on Bishop Church, Mike McGuire, NSFW, the EWC World Tag Team Champions. A leveled gaze from Church was directed to the challengers. “An opportunity to be a footnote in our history.” Folding her arms as best she can, Mike gave a firm nod. “We’ve worked too hard and come too far to have it end here and now. Nobody’s found a way to fuckin’ kill us yet and neither will you. No assassins, no kooked out religions, and No Schemes of Fucking Watermelons are going to take us down. But if you really think you can?” Her grim expression melted into a smirk, a brief ‘heh’ slipping from her lips. “Come and get it, ya fuckin’ fruits.” John looked at his partner, eyebrows raised. “Wait, what?”

[heedra]

OK ITS FINALLY EXALTED SECRET SANTA JOURNAL TIME

@ my secret santa: i am so so so sorry for the ref delay. you already deserve sainthood in advance for dealing with it. without further ado here they are, two of my favorite bastards

Daia Shan- Serenity Caste Sidereal

Once just a troublesome junior bureaucrat in the halls of Yu-Shan, Daia truly gained infamy upon her selection to accompany a strike team of Exalted heroes on a mission into the depths of the worldbody of the Yozi Oramus, and her subsequent escape and return from that impossible prison, nearly a thousand years later. The experience left her profoundly changed; even now, the spite of Oramus hangs like a mantle around Daia, ensuring that the waking world she fought so hard to return to will never feel like anything more than a dream. And then, of course, there is the matter of the power she took from the Sevenfold Peacock willingly… and how that power might be changing her still.

Daia is a somewhat petite woman, belying an athletic build. She is ethnically from the Blessed Isle, with dark grey hair that she prefers to wear up, usually in a bun or a knot. Her face, which she tries but fails to keep free of stress and worry lines, is usually found bearing a smirk or an expression of dangerous faux-politeness. Her eyes bear the iconic starry blue of the Serenities caste, but are also shot through with bands of a strange prismatic iridescence. She bears a large pair of bull horns atop her head, a mutation received during her time inside the Worldbody. The nature of the power bequeathed to her by Oramus is such, though, that her very nature is beginning to blur around the edges, and it is not unusual for her day-to-day appearance to fluctuate strangely as mutations come and go like glitches. She is a bit of a fashionista, favoring blues, dramatic and sharp femme looks (she avoids ruffles and prefers sleeker outfits), and jewelry of all sorts (a lot of it). She rarely wears the same exact outfit twice, so do not feel obligated to stick to the reference- you can get creative! She wears makeup, but prefers cool colors and an understated application.

Daia’s most important accessory is her longfang, the Sevenfold Peacock’s Tailfeather. Forged from starmetal, orichalcum, and a crystalline shard of Oramic essence, the weapon contains knowledge of every martial arts technique known by every user to have ever wielded it, and seems to hunger for more to the point where its obsession has bled over into Daia herself. Even more potently, it bears deep within its core the secret to a martial art concocted by the Dragon of Not himself, whose charms grant the power to ignore the limits of impossibility at the cost of making the wielder more and more alien to the waking world. It is a temptation that Daia has drunk deep of, despite all signs pointing to that being a very bad idea. Daia sees the spear as a trophy stolen from her greatest nemesis, but it’s very possible the Yozi himself sees it as a clever snare for hubristic Sidereals. The blade of the weapon is prismatic crystal that resembles a jagged bird’s beak, the pole is jet black starmetal shot through with an orichalcum starmap of constellations, and the orichalcum pommel is fashioned to look like seven golden peacock feathers woven together into a sphere.

While her exaltation may brand Daia a chosen of the Maidens, the elder Sid is a loose cannon, an agent of Heaven in only the most general of terms. She is mercurial, theatrical, fond of causing petty chaos, and utterly disinterested in the politics of the Bureau, unless there is way for her to stir up drama. She has tendency to get ahead of herself with her schemes, and the vast majority of her ‘downfalls’ can be traced back to her own hubris. Beneath all that, she is a lonely woman who feels adrift in a world that no longer feels real to her. She’s a terrible flirt, a huge showoff (especially where martial arts are involved) and has a weak spot for dangerous women. She’s Creation’s wildest and worst gay aunt.

Side Note: Daia is partially deaf, due to an old and potent supernatural injury. She employs the use of what magic/technology she can to aid her, but relies as well on sign language and interpreters. She’s very used to it at this point.

here’s the link to a better-resolution version of this image bc tumblr kinda fuckt it

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Avenging Phoenix- Dawn Caste Solar (Formerly Ravenous Vulture Picks Clean the Bones of Creation, Dusk Caste Abyssal)

Orphaned at an early age, Phoenix was adopted by a Guild mercenary and raised as such. He spent his later mortal life as a city guard captain in Thorns, where he exalted during the fateful siege itself, disillusionment and rage at the circumstances of his death making him an easy recruit for the Mask. His path has weaved far and wide since then, a slow painful crawl from rebellion to eventual redemption; a journey that ultimately gave him a place among the saviors of Creation. Along the way, he played a role in liberating a group of orphaned children from the clutches of the Dowager, and now finds himself settling into the role of an adoptive dad to them, hanging up his metaphorical (and literal) axe and trying to live a gentler life. It’s not always easy. Violence and trauma etched in that deep doesn’t just smooth out perfectly over time. On top of that, he has impostor’s syndrome when it comes to his redemption by the Sun, and still feels uncomfortable thinking of himself as a peer to the other members of the Solar Host. Still, as long as his soul is on this side of Lethe, he is determined to fight against the Void- not because he considers himself antithesis to it, but because he has known it and survived it. And while some days it’s hard to know how to separate that fight from the taste of blood, other days it feels like, maybe, fighting against the void can be planting sunflowers for your children on a sunny spring afternoon.

Phoenix is of Western descent, very short, fat, and beefy, with warm brown skin and a round, open face.  He keeps his burgundy hair closely shaved, not fond of dealing with the mess of wavy curls it becomes when allowed to grow out. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, the outside of the iris rimmed with the faintest edge of golden yellow. His nose looks like it has been broken multiple times in the past, and never properly healed. Due to unfortunate wyld misadventures his tongue has been mutated to resemble and function like that of a frog’s, though this is only really apparent when he opens his mouth to use the damn thing. Frogs and toads are a definite motif for him in general- small, grumpy-looking, and round as they are.

Phoenix’s casual clothes tend to be simple, comfortable, loose, and in sharp contrast to his prickly combat garb. He enjoys floral patterns, and the color pink. He’s got a very ‘open hawaiian shirt and flip flops dad’ vibe, basically. He does not dress fancily unless pressed to for big occasions, and in those cases usually grudgingly follows the fashion direction of the one twisting his arm. When he’s on actual exalt business, he’s most frequently found wearing his armor; black jade full plate embellished with cruel-looking spikes, and occasionally a shaggy grey fur cloak made from the pelt of some hunting trophy. A horned skull helm, made from the skull of a nephwrack’s war-body, often completes this ensemble. The helmet is a minor artifact: when worn, it causes his eyes to glow balefully behind its sockets and makes his voice gravelly with deathly menace. He is reluctant to take it off unless he feels at ease in a situation.

Phoenix is somewhat bumbling and gruffly soft-spoken, with tendency to look more tired than he feels. Beneath this is a talent for strategic leadership and a stoic determination that gets fiercer as the going gets tougher. On the battlefield, he is utterly terrifying when he needs to be, but would much prefer to be at home in his garden than on a battlefield these days.

His anima banner starts as burst of gold-and crimson fire that solidifies into the form of a fierce and predatory-looking phoenix, with aspects of a garda bird and a lammergeier both. It moves as he does across the battlefield, swooping and rising with each swing of his axe, its fierce eyes focused on his prey. Additional refs:

what he looked like as an abyssal | his grand grimcleaver looks like this except made outta fiery golden light | rough sketch of his skull helmet