#i probably might need to suggest on getting a new sketchbook though but for only dogday.

[l0ganberry]

It must be quite the adventure.... but I imagine it also being a hassle for him.

The fact he has no legs must already be a big struggle for him. This must mean that he's just dragging himself around everywhere to find his legs. But.... where would they be???

He's already checking around corners, looking under objects, roaming around hallways and looking in things. Poor Dogday.....

But he will find his legs, for sure. There's no giving up.

He just needs some help.

Anyways.... Thank you @mcfries123 for this suggestion. I had fun and am pretty excited to do more!

if anyone else would like to make an art suggestion..... go to this >post<

[ohhiimweird]

hey there! i read 'new romantics' and i love your writing! is it alright if i request some romantic hurt/comfort hcs with an overworked gn reader for the turtle family? (Like the bros + April?) This week has been uber stressful for me and reading fics like yours always calms me down hfdhjds

Bold of you to not be anonymous...

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Donnie, Raph, Mikey, April, Leo

Relationship: Romantic

Content Warnings: None!

----------------------------------------------------------

I'll Cover for You

Donnie:

He's the type of person to try and get to the root of the problem. But, that doesn't mean he won't let you rant a little

He'll be working on something while you sit and rant about your assignments at school or a job. Just know that he is listening to every word you say. You don't have to worry about that

Expect a pat on the shoulder or head from one of his mechanical arms on his battle shell. This is Donnie we're talking about after all

He'll ask a few questions and suggest what you can do when you've calmed down a little.

He might need to calm down a little too, though. Because Donnie was probably freaking out the moment you entered the room on the verge of tears

Donnie will give you some kind of alarm that tells you when to take a break from your work. If you ignore the alarm, Donnie will know

All in all, he loves and cares about you more than his tech. That is saying something

Raph:

Raph is the oldest sibling, besides April. So, he knows how to comfort people. It's basically an instinct for him

Doesn't matter if you're stubborn. He will carry you over his shoulder if it meant getting you away from your schoolwork. Don't underestimate him. He's done it to Donnie

He lets you hold one of his stuffed animals while you vent. You can just hold it without saying anything too. Just be careful with it because Raph loves those guys like they're his children

Raph will hold you too and give you comforting words. He might slip into a baby voice if you're stressed enough. That's more of an instinct

Once you're calm, he reassures you that you're doing the best you can. You're just one person after all. He's impressed you can do the schoolwork you do at all

He'll start to check on you more often after this incident, making sure you're not stressed out like that again

The experience as an older sibling may have helped, but Raph still prides himself as someone you can go to. Even though that's what being a couple is all about

Mikey:

Mikey knows you're stressed before you can even tell him. He's much more in tune with his emotions. It comes with him being the youngest and also the family therapist

The first thing Mikey does is gently pull you away from your assignments and toward his sketchbook

this usually works and you're venting while making several marks on the paper. this only works if you're not stubborn however

If you are, he's pulling out the glasses. You will have to run if you don't want to deal with Dr. Feelings. Actually, I don't running will work. That boy has stamina and will find you...

Once he gets the words out of you, Mikey smothers you with physical affection. I'm talking hugs, cuddles, and many kisses

He reassures you that he loves you, and tells you that it's okay that you're busy

Mikey would give you his heart if it meant you'd never be stressed again. Please don't let go of that heart

April:

Mayhem is now your certified therapy-dog. Although I don't know whether or not he's a dog. But that's okay because he's a dog in spirit

Anyways, back to April. She's your shoulder to cry on and someone to hold

She's also going to hype you up and tell you you're doing great. If you need someone to point out the good things from your failure, she's your gal (she's known to struggle with failure too, man)

If you're struggling with a class she either took before or has the same class as you, she'll try and help you

She'll invite you to stay the night if you need it. You'll do some self-care together

Much like the others, she's affirming that she cares about you and loves you

Through your stress, April is going to worm her way through it and reach out

Leo:

Motherfucker is portaling to your room and pulling you away from your schoolwork

"Leo, I was working!" "No <3"

He's taking you into a pillow fort, pulling you under the blankets, and putting on Jupiter Jim

Despite how he presents himself, Leo has a keen eye. He may not be as emotional as Mikey, but he knows when you're stressed and swamped with work

So, he does what any good boyfriend does and makes a fun night out of comforting you

Again, you're watching Jupiter Jim, he's doing an entire skin routine with you. By the end of it, he's holding you as you grow tired and fall asleep

He knows you won't stop working until you have nothing left, however, he'll let you know that he's always going to be there no matter what

Thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoyed reading these headcanons

[zerolostwalks]

"Why'd you turn the music off?" for the Greater Polyphantoms Polycule?

Reggie stood before his partners nervously fidgeting with the bowl full of names behind his back. He really hoped they wouldn’t mind him suggesting this, but there was no way he’d be able to afford a present for each of them this year. He’d barely managed to get them each something last year. 

Of course, first he’d need to get their attention from where they all were just hanging out. Easy enough, he thought as his hand shot out and turned the speaker off. Actually that might have been a little extreme and a touch too aggressive.  

All the eyes in the room snapped to look at him, a range of confusion and concern. “Why’d you turn the music off?” Luke was asking before his eyes actually landed on Reggie.

The blood drained from Reggie’s face, he really hadn’t thought about what to say. But now they were all staring at him waiting for him to talk. Flynn sat up straighter from where they had been leaning on Willie, “Reggie?”

He ignored the hammering of his heart against his ribs and rushed to say “I had an idea for Christmas this year.”

“Ok?” Alex leaned forward in his seat, brow furrowed and elbows on his knees. His anxiety must have flared up with impatience while Reggie nodded because it didn’t take him long to add, “what is it?”

“I was thinking that it might be fun to do a secret santa for gifts this year?” Reggie plastered a smile on his face as he brought the small bowl of names from behind his back with an enthusiastic shake. He hoped no one would ask why or could see how desperately he really wanted them to accept the idea. 

“Oh, sounds like fun.” Willie chirped as he bounced forward in his seat, sketchbook flung to the side. Reggie’s smile grew more genuine as everyone else agreed as well, handing off the bowl to Willie so they could all pick their names.

This was great, only, Julie hesitated when the bowl finally made its way around the room to her. She stared down at it with a confused pout, “Reg, did you already pick a name?”

“No, why?” 

“Because there is only one name left in here.” 

“What?” Reggie exclaimed as he racked his brain. He knew he didn’t forget anyone. Five names wasn’t that hard to lose track of. 

Shit, did he forget one of them? That’s worse than if he were to have gotten them crap gifts. He’s positive he didn’t forget any of them, though . 

As he recounted the names in his head, and possibly on his fingers, he heard Alex snort. “You remembered to add yourself, right?”

Reggie glared in the boy’s direction because of course he…didn’t. He tried to hide the blush he felt rapidly burn a path across his entire face. At least he only forgot himself and not one of them, right?

“Let’s try this again,” Willie chuckled with the accompanying sound of paper being torn. Probably making new slips with the correct amount of names this time. 

Reggie was really lucky to have them, all of them. And he loved the simple gold bracelet with all their names engraved on it he got for Christmas that year. He ended up cackling when he saw his name had also been included.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter 6: Let’s Play a Game (Overprotection)

Prev

AO3

Marinette ended up not staying for dinner. She talked to Bruce for a little bit, but he had to leave for some WE emergency and Marinette wasn’t really up to bonding with the boys- her brothers- yet. But that was fine. It wasn’t like she was desperate to get to know the man and wouldn’t be able to after this trip because she had to stay in Paris because of Hawkmoth. No, she wasn’t upset. Not at all. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nope.

---

Walking into Madame Soleil's Wax Museum with Adrien by her side, Marinette is hit with a major wave of deja vu. And not a good deja vu. No, the memories of the last time she was in a wax museum with Adrien were awful, humiliating and- feeling a hand wrap around hers pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. Glancing down, Marinette tries (and fails) to hide her grin. Adrien is holding her hand. Adrien is holding her hand!

“Hey Marinette!” A familiar voice calls, a hand squeezing her shoulder, making Marinette squeal and whirl around.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” She asks, frowning at the boy- her brother- as he stands there with a huge smile.

“Well I heard that a new wax figure is being revealed today, and I thought I might come and see it.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Really? Who?” Adrien asks. Dick’s smile twitches slightly as he glances at Marinette, making her frown. Was he seriously about to play the overprotective big brother card? Really?

“Jagged Stone.” Dick finally says, glancing at their entwined hands. Marinette tries hard not to roll her eyes. Come on, her crush is finally holding her hand and her brother (who she’s known for a day!) is seriously trying to ruin that for her?

“Oh cool! Do you think he’ll come to Gotham to see it, Mari?” Adrien asks.

“I think he’s definitely scheduled to make an appearance in Gotham in the next couple days. He’s picking up his new suit in person.” She whispers, grinning at the idea of seeing her “Uncle” in person again. He’d been touring for several months and she hadn’t been able to see him for awhile, just the occasional video call.

“So! What figures did you guys want to check out first?” Dick asks, wedging himself between the two and forcing Adrien to drop her hand. Glaring at her brother, Marinette scoffs when Dick just smiles innocently.

“The hall of heroes and villains sounds cool.” Adrien suggests, looking around Dick to see Marinette.

“Hmm. Okay, but if the Nightwing figure is in his disco costume, I reserve the right to melt the statue.” She says, frowning at the choked noise Dick makes. “Are you okay?” She adds.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. What’s 1so bad about that costume?” He asks, a hurt expression on his face.

“Have you even seen it? The only worse costume is Riddler’s.” Marinette says, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. Walking past the local celebrities room and the pop stars room, Marinette’s eyes widen as their small group walks into the hall of heroes and villains. Walking away from Dick and Adrien, she’s almost instantly drawn to the Batman figure. She reads the little plaque about the artist and frowns, turning to Dick who had moved to stand next to her.

“I thought it’d be taller.” She says, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion when Dick starts choking on air, gasping for breath as broken chuckles flood out of him. “Ookay then.” She mutters, turning and walking back towards the villains. Nightwing was, luckily, depicted in his most recent costume. As was Robin. Which meant the only real fashion tragedy (besides the god awful helmet Red Hood wore) was the Riddler. Pulling her sketchbook out, Marinette circles the wax figure, occasionally making notes and sketching out slight adjustments to the man’s costume.

“His costume might be terrible, but it’s still better than half of the akumas.” Adrien whispers, leaning over her shoulder. Marinette looks up at him, eyes wide as her face heats up with a blush.

“I, uh, um, yes. Yeah.” She says, trying not to wince at her lack of speaking skills. “I mean, at least we can rule out any fashion designer in Paris as Hawkmoth. Because if Hawkmoth was a designer, that’d almost be a bigger crime.” She adds, smiling as Adrien laughs.

“Good to know you’re not moonlighting as Hawkmoth, m’lady.” He says with a mock bow. Marinette snorts, then covers her mouth, embarrassment rushing over her. Adrien just shakes his head, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“In case you forgot, we’ve definitely seen each other at our most embarrassing.” He says, making her groan.

“Oh god, no. I tied us up with my yoyo!” She moans, turning and burying her face into his chest so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. Her face heats up more when she feels him chuckle and wrap his arms around her.

“I’ve always thought that was paw-sitively adorable.” He says, laughing when she groans again. She pulls away slightly, looking up at him with a timid smile. He smiles back, starts to lean forward and-

“Hey guys! I heard they’re about to unveil the Jagged Stone figure. Come on, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss it.” Dick says, grabbing each of their hands and pulling them towards the exist (and successfully separating them again). Marinette tries not to glare at Dick. She’s about to have one less brother.

---

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to having a little sister that he could protect. Sure, he had a little sister. Cas was awesome, but she could also kick his ass without breaking a sweat. No, he’d never had a little sister to protect. Someone he could watch out for and support. But now….now he has Marinette. And he’ll be damned if he lets some little punk take advantage of his little sister. Ignoring Marinette’s glare, he positions himself right between her and...the boy. He’d need to ask Timmy to do a background check on the kid later. Especially if he thought he was good enough for Marinette.

“So are you guys big Jagged fans?” He asks, trying to pull the two back into a conversation. He narrows his eyes at the smile the kid gives Marinette. It’s too...adoring. Too much. She’s only...what, fourteen? Much too young to date. Especially this kid.

“Mari’s a bit of a fan, I think. But, personally, I much prefer Jagged’s designer.” He says, and Dick turns to him, missing the way Marinette’s face turns bright red.

“Are you talking about MDC? I love them! Their work is amazing! And Jagged Stone says that he’ll never have another designer. I heard that there’s a possibility of them opening their commissions again. God, I hope they do. I’d do anything for something made by MDC.” Dick rambles with a wide smile, deciding to ignore the kid for a minute in order to ramble about his favorite designer. As the group walks into the pop star room, Dick steps back and glares at the kid. He’d stepped just behind Dick and was apparently trying to hold Marinette’s hand again. Not on his watch. No siree. No one’s gonna hurt his little sister.

---

Bruce sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’d been checking the street cameras in Paris, trying to figure out what time Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol so that he can set up a meeting. Try and offer help, or maybe even offer to take control of the situation. Anything to get rid of Hawkmoth. But instead, it was like the heroes didn’t exist. He’d read reports of the heroes patrolling before, so why were they so quiet this week? The only akuma from the past couple days wasn’t even taken care of by both of them. Ladybug did it alone, and seemed worse for the wear when she came out of the battle. Where was Chat Noir? And why did it seem as though they had gone into hiding?

---

Marinette was five seconds away from committing her first murder. Okay, probably her only murder, unless her other brothers decide to be as involved in her love life as Dick is. Because Dick won’t have the chance to be a problem for much longer. Because Marinette was honestly going to kill him. Right as she turned to finally yell at him, and tell him to knock it off, the lights flickered. She pauses her tirade, glancing to gauge Dick’s reaction to see if this is normal. And if his worried glances back at her are anything to go by, this is not normal.

“Let’s play a game! Solve my riddles and you all can leave freely, but make a mistake and someone will pay greatly! Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?” A man’s voice asks, Marinette frowning as the Riddler walks in, a wide smile on his face. Ten goons walk in behind him, all of them carrying guns. She was used to the akuma attacks almost every day, but didn’t Gotham’s rogues have anything better to do than attack every place her class went? With guns? Come on. Riddler smirks and points at Adrien with his cane.

“A match.” She blurts out, ignoring Dick frantically shaking his head. If nothing else, she should be able to work with Adrien to get everyone out. But she knew his style. And riddles weren’t really his thing.

“Oh goody. We have a volunteer. Tell me, what has to be broken before you can use it?” Riddler asks, stalking towards her. Thinking for a second, Marinette tries to suppress a smile.

“An egg.” She says. Riddler narrows his eyes.

“I have 13 hearts, but no lungs or stomach. What am I?” He asks, Marinette frowns, running through possible answers in her head.

“A deck of cards.” She finally says.

“Buzzy, come over here and hold onto our friend.” Riddler says, gesturing to one of the goons. The man comes over and grabs Marinette’s arm roughly, she winces. That’ll definitely bruise.

“I answered your riddles.” Marinette says, deciding that now's as good a time as any to start distracting the man.

“And how did you answer them so quickly?” He asks, the frustration clear on his face.

“What do you mean? Were they supposed to be hard?” Marinette taunts, ignoring the choked sound Dick makes behind her. She knew what she was doing. She did. She had to.

“Why you-” Riddler starts, stepping forward and pulling his hand back as if to hit her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette waits for the slap. The slap never comes. Opening her eyes, Marinette’s jaw drops when she sees the Riddler’s fist held tightly in Dick’s hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” He says lowly, a dark look on his face. Well that was unexpected. Riddler opens his mouth, probably to start spouting more riddles or other nonsense, when the goons blocking the exits drop. Noticing Red Robin and Red Hood picking off the other goons, Marinette throws her elbow back into the gut of the goon holding her. Not waiting for him to recover, Marinette stomps his foot and twists out of his grip. Grabbing his arm, Marinette manages to yank the man off balance and toss him to the ground. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump back and prepare to hit the person.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay ma’am.” The voice attached to the hand says. Marinette whirls around, ready to tell off the person, but immediately stops when she sees Red Robin.

“Sorry!” She yelps, jumping away from him. And she was too. She was determined to hit the person who grabbed her shoulder, so locked into battle mode, but she had managed to stop herself. Glancing around the room, Marinette notices Dick talking to Red Hood, his usual smile back on his face. That’s good. That’s normal, that’s right. The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm makes Marinette want to scream in frustration. Really, right now? It’s definitely already dark in Paris which means- Chat Noir. Ignoring everyone else, Marinette runs over to Adrien and grabs his hand.

“Akuma?” He asks, his voice low. She nods and tugs him towards the bathrooms, unaware of the eyes following them out.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #2 - The Beginning of a Family

Word Count: 1804

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Human Trafficking (once, it was a mission Reader did), Minor Character Injury

Setting/Characters: The first half-ish of The Avengers in 2012; Reader, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, Mentions of Loki, Phil Coulson, and Clint Barton, OC!Agent Anderson

A/N: Here’s One Shot Number 2! I was thinking of making it longer and adding the actual Battle of Manhattan, but I dunno if I’m gonna do that. I just wanted these to be One Shots of first meetings and other smaller events. I didn’t want to do scene-for-scene two parters. If you want me to, I can, I don’t mind doing it, I just wasn’t planning on it. I’ve kinda been slacking today, which is why I haven’t cranked out more than this one, but I’ll see if I can finish one more for tonight. Tomorrow’s another late night for me at work, BUT! Tomorrow night FATWS comes out! So I will be doing the next Episode! I also don’t have Friday off this week, so the Parts might bleed into Saturday, but they will come this weekend!

Reminder that this has nothing to do with FATWS the show, but I don’t have a title for my FATWS Series, which is what these are based off of, so this is what they’re called for now! If you have any ideas for names, feel free to send them in! I’m just too lazy to come up with something clever for the whole Series.

Thank you so much for reading! As always, not beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You were exhausted, coming back from an assignment that lasted a little over two months. It’d been your first one since you were assigned to help Steve adjust, and you were guessing they’d keep you on desk duty for a few months before sending you back out again. Which frustrated you to no end.

But then you got back your personal cell phone from a fellow agent and, seeing you had a few  voicemails - which you never had - you flipped it on.

“Hi, Y/N.” Your lips turned up at the man you started growing close to over the past year. “I-I know you’re on a mission right now. I mean, you just left last week. Anyways, I just…I hope you’re doin’ okay. You probably won’t get this until later, but…still. I hope you’re safe. I, uh, I got that book. The one you were joking about me getting. The U.S. History for Dummies one. It goes farther back than I need to know, but I still read all of it. It helped. I wish you were here though. But I know you’re working. And that’s important. Um… I guess I’ll see you in a few months.”

The phone beeped before the next message played. “I took your advice. I got a sketchbook and some other stuff. There’s a ton of new supplies. I’m kinda excited to try them out. Maybe they’re not new but they’re more accessible now than they used to be. And I found a gym. In Brooklyn. It’s kinda run down - a hole in the wall type place - but they don’t do memberships and they don’t care how long you stay as long as you pay for your time. So that’s nice. I guess. Anyways…hi. I don’t think I said that earlier. It’s Steve, by the way. But you probably guessed that. Um…that’s all. I just wanted to let you know. Stay safe, honey. Abbyssinia.”

You listened to the next couple ones, all along the same lines. Steve telling you about his day; about the dog he was allowed to pet on his run or the different coffee he tried this morning at your previous suggestion. You snickered a little, shaking your head. You would never guessed that Hitler hitting, Nazi punching Captain America was so…soft. Cute.

His last voicemail was from earlier that morning, and it made her brow furrow. “Hey, honey. I, uh…God, I really wish you were here. I was told you’d be getting back last week, but then they said it might be another couple weeks because something happened? I hope nothing happened. Please be okay. I’ve really missed you. I know it’s only been a year, but…you’re the only familiar thing I have right now. I guess Fury was right to choose you since you were the first person I saw. There’s a, uh, problem. Fury’s got a mission for me. Some guy named Loki stole the Tesseract. Which was HYDRA’s secret weapon. That blue cube thing. I was just getting used to laptops and fast food and this…it’s just a lot. Overwhelming. You were always good at making things less intimidating. I’ve gotta go. Some SHIELD personnel are picking me up now. We’re going to…somewhere. I’m sure you would know, but they haven’t exactly told me. Hoping to see you soon, Y/N. Please be safe.”

You frowned at the information, looking up at one of your fellow agents, Anderson. “Hey.” He turned his head towards you from his conversation with the copilot. “Is something going on at HQ?”

“The Helicarrier.” Anderson corrected. “Fury just called it in. Something with the Tesseract. And some guy’s mind controlling people. He’s got Barton, apparently. The director is bringing a few people on board; Banner, Stark, Romanoff. Rogers, too, I heard. He wants you to be there ASAP, so we’re going there now.”

Letting out a sigh, you rubbed your eyes and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

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

Fury met you as you walked off the jet, lugging your duffle bag over your shoulder. You were still in your clothes from the mission; a human trafficking ring in Guam. Dirty, torn up jeans along with a white tank top hugging your torso and a flannel, unbuttoned, over your shoulders. One of your sneakers had a hole in it, too, and you were walking with a slight limp from the dislocated kneecap you got a few days prior.

“Agent.” He nodded in greeting, passing you a file. “The others are waiting. We just brought in Loki.”

You chewed your cheek, narrowing your eyes as you scanned the information in the file. It had personal files of the others, but you didn’t need to look through those. You knew Natasha very well, considering she taught you half the things you know, along with Barton. You knew Stark - of course you did - especially after you helped set Natasha up to be his secretary a while back. Banner you were also knowledgeable about, seeing as you went undercover to find him when he first took off and had been part of the tracking team on him ever since. Thor you had learned about after his fiasco in New Mexico from Coulson. And, last but certainly not least, Steve Rogers, who you knew better than any file could explain.

“Walk me through this; Thor and Loki are the real Thor and Loki? Like, from Norse myths?”

“Apparently so. You know about the New Mexico incident with the two last year, don’t you?”

You nodded, pinching your lips together tightly. “Well, yeah, but I thought…I dunno. I guess it just didn’t click. So,” you tucked the file under your arm securely, raising an eyebrow at Fury. “We’re fighting a god? An actual god?”

“With an army of aliens.” He confirmed.

“Wonderful.” You huffed as the two of you turned a corner, making your way onto the bridge, just in time to hear Stark talking to Banner about him turning into the Hulk.

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube.” Fury butted in. You crossed your arms behind Fury, leaning on your good leg. “I was hoping you might join him. Before you do, this is-” 

“Y/N! You’re back!”

You shot a grin to the blonde, who perked up upon seeing you. “Hi, Steve. Just in time, too, huh.” You nudged Natasha slightly. “Hey, Nat. Sorry about Clint.”

She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re here to help.”

“I’m sorry.” You looked over to find Banner frowning contemplatively at you. “Do I know you?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Fury beat you to it. “Formalities later. Y/L/N, we’ll bring you up to speed-”

“I’ll get there, sir. How are you boys planning on tracking down the Tesseract?” You questioned, nodding in the two geniuses’ direction.

“I’d start with that stick of his.” Steve suggested, turning to look at the duo as well. “It may be magical but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is powered by the Cube.” Fury stated. “And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

A tall, broad as hell blonde looked at Fury, confused. “Monkeys? I do not understand-”

“I do!” Steve jumped in, pointing at Thor, before leaning back in his seat at the silence that came after his exclamation. “I-I understood that reference.”

You chuckled and shook your head, winking at Steve when he smiled bashfully at you. As the two scientists - was Stark a scientist? - started heading out, Steve hopped up, padding over to you.

“You’re back early.”

“Late, technically.” You shrugged, letting him pull you in for a hug, your hand rubbing his back. “I got your calls.”

He pulled away, his ears turning red. “Oh, yeah. I, uhm-”

You sniggered. “It’s fine, Steve. You can call me whenever you need to. I’m just sorry I couldn’t answer you sooner.”

“You were working.” He shrugged half heartedly. “Did it go okay? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Steven. I’m fine.” You rolled your eyes just as a yawn threatened to escape your lips. “If not a little tired.” You tapped on the star against his chest. “Nice suit, by the way.”

“Ha ha.” He grinned, eyeing your own clothing. “You’re matching me.” He tugged on the red, white, and blue flannel hanging from your arms. “You also look like shit.”

You snorted. “Wow. What a gentleman. Let’s get this whole Loki situation over with so I can go to bed, yeah?”

He chuckled a little with a nod. “Sounds like a plan, honey.” The two of you started out of the bridge. “You should shower first, though.”

“You’re a bully, you know that?”

“I’m just sayin’!”

“I’m just sayin’!” You mocked with a huff. “Leave me be, Rogers.”

His laughter was cut short, making you look over at him curiously, only to find his slitted eyes studying your movements. “Why are you limping?”

“Relax, Captain. I just dislocated my knee. It’s fine. Shit happens on missions, you know that.”

“Is that why you came back late?”

Shaking your head, you lead him to one of the private rooms the Helicarrier had so you could shower and change. “No. I just needed a little more time. That’s all. Now let’s focus on the problem at hand. We can talk more later.”

He hesitated, leaning against the doorway and watching you set your bag on the small cot.  “Okay. As long as you’re alright.”

Your heart jumped a bit at the concern laced in his tone, the apprehension in those blue eyes - which you found out had some green in them - making your breath hitch slightly. “I am.” You spoke softly with a firm nod of your head, trying to assure him and his worries. “I promise.”

“I’m gonna go check on Banner and Stark, then. Come find me when you’re done.”

You cleared your throat to recover yourself, throwing him a cheeky grin. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, before turning and walking out, leaving you alone and confused.

What was that? You’d never had that reaction to anything. Your heart doesn’t race whenever someone walks in the room. Not like it did with him. What the hell did that even mean?

You shook your head, clearing your throats. You didn’t have time to dwell on that now. You doubted it was anything more than a fluke. You were just tired and seeing someone familiar, who was genuinely excited to see you was like a breath of fresh air after your operation. That’s all. Yeah.

With that decided, you headed to the shower, head spinning with new thoughts of this problem with the God of Mischief and that stupid blue cube.

All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​

[kmclaude]

Forgive me Father, I have no awful headcanons for you, only a general question on comic making. How do you do it, writing-wise/how do you decide what points go where, how do you plot it out (or do you have any resources on the writing aspect that you find useful?) Not to get too bogged down in details, but I attended a writer’s workshop and the author in residence suggested I transfer my wordy sci-fi WIP into graphic novel script, as it might work better. (I do draw, but I don’t know if I have it in me to draw a whole comic—characters in motion? Doing things? With backgrounds? How dare, why can’t everyone just stand around looking pretty)

I was interested but it quickly turned into a lot of internal screaming as I tried to figure out how to compress the hell out of it, since novels are free to do a lot more internal monologuing and such compared to a comic format (to say nothing of trying to write a script without seeing how the panels lay out—just for my own sake, I might have to do both concurrently.)

As an aside, to get a feel for graphic novels I was rereading 99RM and was reminded of how great it was—tightly plotted, intriguing, and anything to do with Ashmedai was just beautifully drawn. I need more Monsignor Tiefer and something something there are parallels between Jehan and Daniel in my head and I don’t know if they make sense but it works for me. (As an aside, I liked the emphasis on atonement being more than just the word sorry, but acknowledgment you did wrong and an attempt to remedy it—I don’t know why that spoke to me the way that it did.)

I thought Tumblr had a word count limit for asks but so far it has offered zero resistance, oh well. I don’t have much else to say but on the topic of 99RM, Adam getting under Monsignor’s skin is amazing, 10/10 (about the Pride picture earlier)

wow tumblr got rid of the markdown editor! or at least in asks which means the new editor probably has no markdown....god i hate this site! anyway...

Totally! So first, giant thank you for the compliments! Second, I have a few questions in turn for you before I dive into a sort of answer, since I can give some advice to your questions in general but it also sounds like you have a specific conundrum on your hands.

My questions to your specific situation are:

did the author give any reason for recommending a, in your words, "wordy" story be turned into a graphic novel?

is the story you're writing more, like you said, "internal monologuing"? action packed? where do the visuals come from?

do you WANT it to be a comic? furthermore, do you want it to be a comic you then must turn around and draw? or would you be interested in writing for comics as a comic writer to have your words turned into art?

With those questions in mind, let me jump into the questions you posed me!

Let me start with a confession...

I've said this before but let me say it again: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men was not originally a comic — it was a feature-length screenplay! And furthermore, it was written for a class so it got workshopped again and again to tighten the plot by a classroom of other nerds — so as kind as your compliments are, I'm giving credit where credit is due as that was not just a solo ship sailing on the sea. On top of that, it got adapted (by me) into a comic for my thesis, so my advisor also helped me make it translate or "read" well given I was director, actor, set designer, writer, editor, SFX guy, etc. all in one. And it was a huge help to have someone say "there is no way you can go blow by blow from script to comic: you need to make edits!" For instance, two scenes got compressed to simple dialogue overlaid on the splashpage of Ashmedai raping Caleb (with an insert panel of Adam and Daniel talking the next day.) What had been probably at least 5 pages became 1.

Additionally, I don't consider myself a strong plotter. That said, I found learning to write for film made the plotting process finally make some damn sense since the old plot diagram we all got taught in grammar school English never made sense as a reader and definitely made 0 sense as a writer — for me, for some reason, the breakdown of 25-50-25 (approx. 25 pages for act 1, 50 for act 2 split into 2 parts of 25 each, 25 pages for act 3) and the breaking down of the beats (the act turning points, the mid points, the low point) helped give me a structure that just "draw a mountain, rising action, climax is there, figure it out" never did. Maybe the plot diagram is visually too linear when stories have ebb and flow? I don't know. But it never clicked until screenwriting. So that's where I am coming from. YMMV.

I should also state that there's Official Ways To Write Comic Scripts to Be Drawn By An Artist (Especially If You Work For A Real Publisher As a Writer) and there's What Works For You/Your Team. I don't give a rat's ass about the former (and as an artist, I kind of hate panel by panel breakdowns like you see there) so I'm pretty much entirely writing on the latter here. I don't give a good god damn about official ways of doing anything: what works for you to get it done is what matters.

What Goes Where?

Like I said, 99RM was a screenplay so it follows, beat-wise, the 3-act screenplay structure (hell, it's probably more accurate to say it follows the act 1/act 2A/act 2B/act 3 structure.) So there was the story idea or concept that then got applied to those story beats associated with the structure, and from there came the Scene-by-scene Breakdown (or Expanded Scene Breakdown) which basically is an outline of beats broken down into individual scenes in short prose form so you get an overview of what happens, can see pacing, etc. In the resources at the end I put some links that give information on the whole story beat thing.

(As an aside: for all my short comics, I don't bother with all that, frankly. I usually have an image or a concept or a bit of writing — usually dialogue or monologue, sometimes a concrete scene — that I pick at and pick at in a little sketchbook, going back and forth between writing and thumbnail sketches of the page. Or I just go by the seat of my pants and bullshit my way through. Either or. Those in many ways are a bit more like poems, in my mind: they are images, they are snapshots, they are feelings that I'm capturing in a few panels. Think doing mental math rather than writing out geometric proofs, yanno?)

Personally, I tend to lean on dialogue as it comes easier for me (it's probably why I'm so drawn to screenwriting!) so for me, if I were to do another longform GN, I'd probably take my general "uhhhhhh I have an idea and some beats maybe so I guess this should happen this way?" outline and start breaking it down scene by scene (I tend to write down scenes or scene sketches in that "uhhhh?" outline anyway LOL) and then figure out basic dialogue and action beats — in short, I'd kind of do the work of writing a screenplay without necessarily going full screenplay format (though I did find the format gave me an idea of timing/pacing, as 1 page of formatted script is about equal to 1 minute of screentime, and gave me room to sketch thumbnails or make edits on the large margins!) If you're not a monologue/soliloque/dialogue/speech person and more an image and description person, you may lean more into visuals and scenes that cut to each other.

Either way this of course introduces the elephant in the panel: art! How do you choose what to draw?

The answer is, well, it depends! The freedom of comics is if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. You have the freedoms (and audio limitations) of a truly silent film with none of the physical limitations. Your words can move in real time with the images or they can be a narrative related to the scene or they could be nonsequitors entirely! The better question is how do you think? Do you need all the words and action written first before you break down the visuals? Do you need a panel by panel breakdown to be happy, or can you freewheel and translate from word and general outlines to thumbnails? What suits you? I really cannot answer this because I think when it comes to what goes where with regard to art, it's a bit of "how do you process visuals" and also a bit of "who's drawing this?" — effectively, who is the interpreter for the exact thing you are writing? Is it you or someone else? If it's you, would you benefit from a barebones script alongside thumbnailed paneling? Would you be served by a barebones script, then thumbnails, then a new script that includes panel and page breakdowns? What frees you up to do what you need to do to tell your story?

If I'm being honest, I don't necessarily worry about panels or what something will look like necessarily until I'm done writing. I may have an image that I clearly state needs to happen. I may even have a sequence of panels that I want to see and I do indeed sketch that out and make note of it in my script. But exactly how things will be laid out, paneled, situated? That could change up until I've sketched my final pencils in CSP (but I am writer and artist so admittedly I get that luxury.)

How do I compress from novel to comic?

Honest answer? You don't. Not really. You adapt from one to another. It's more a translation. Something that would take forever to write may take 1 page in a comic or may take a whole issue.

I'm going to pick on Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo spent a whole-ass book in Notre-Dame de Paris talking about a bird's eye view of Paris and other medieval architecture boring stuff, with I guess some foreshadowing with Montfaucon. Who cares. Not me. I like story. Anyway. When we translate that book to a movie any of the billion times someone's done that, we don't spend a billion years talking at length about medieval Paris. There's no great monologuing about the gibbet or whatever: you get to have some establishing shots, maybe a musical number, and then you move tf on. Because it's a movie, right? Your visuals are right there. We can see medieval Paris. We can see the cathedral. We can see the gibbet. We don't need a whole book: it's visually right there. Same with a comic: you may need many paragraphs to describe, say, a space station off of Sirius and one panel to show it.

On the flip side, you may take one line, maybe two, to say a character keyed in the special code to activate the holodeck; depending on the visual pacing, that could be a whole page of panels (are we trying to stretch time? slow it down? what are we emphasizing?) A character gives a sigh of relief — one line of text, yeah? That could be a frozen panel while a conversation continues on or that could be two (or more!) panels, similar to the direction [a beat] in screenwriting.

Sorry there's not a super easy answer there to the question of compression: it's a lot more of a tug, a push-pull, that depends on what you're conveying.

So Do I Have It In Me to Write & Draw a GN?

The only way you'll know is by doing. Scary, right? The thing is, you don't necessarily need to be an animation king or God's gift to background artists to draw a comic.

Hell, I hate backgrounds. I still remember sitting across from my friend who said "Claude you really need to draw an establishing exterior of the church at some point" and me being like "why do you hate me specifically" because drawing architecture? Again? I already drew the interior of the church altar ONCE, that should be enough, right? But I did draw an exterior of the church. Sorta. More like the top steeple. Enough to suggest what I needed to suggest to give the audience a better sense of place without me absolutely losing my gourd trying to render something out of my wheelhouse at the time.

And that's kinda the ticket, I think. Not everyone's a master draftsman. Not everyone has all the skills in every area. And regardless, from page one to page one hundred, your skills will improve. That's all part of it — and in the meantime, you should lean into your strengths and cheat where you can.

Do you need to lovingly render a background every single panel? Christ no! Does every little detail need to be drawn out? Sure if you want your hand to fall off. Cheat! Use Sketchup to build models! Use Blender to sculpt forms to paint over! Use CSP Assets for prebuilt models and brushes if you use CSP! Take photographs and manip them! Cheat! Do what you need to do to convey what you need to convey!

For instance, a tip/axiom/"rule" I've seen is one establishing shot per scene minimum and a corollary to that has been include a background once per page minimum as grounding (no we cannot all have eternal floating heads and characters in the void. Unless your comic is set in the void. In which case, you do you.) People ain't out here drawing hyper detailed backgrounds per each tiny panel. The people who DO do that are insane. Or stupid. Or both. Or have no deadline? Either way, someone's gonna have a repetitive stress injury... Save yourself the pain and the headache. Take shortcuts. Save your punches for the big K.O. moments.

Start small. Make an 8-page zine. Tell a beginning, a middle, an end in comic form. Bring a scene to life in a few pages. See what you're comfortable drawing and where you struggle. See where you can lean heavily into your comfort zones. Learn how to lean out of your comfort zone. Learn when it's worth it to do the latter.

Or start large. Technically my first finished comic (that wasn't "a dumb pencil thing I drew in elementary school" or "that 13 volume manga I outlined and only penciled, what, 7 pages of in sixth grade" or "random one page things I draw about my characters on throw up on the interwebz") was 99RM so what do I know. I'm just some guy on the internet.

(That's not self-deprecating, I literally am some guy on the internet talking about my path. A lot of this is gonna come down to you and what vibes with you.)

Resources on writing

Some of these are things that help me and some are things that I crowd-sourced from others. Some of these are going to be screenwriting based, some will be comic based.

Making Comics by Scott McCloud: I think everyone recommends this but I think it is a useful book if you're like "ahh!!! christ!! where do I start!!!???" It very much breaks down the elements of comics and the world they exist in and the principles involved, with the caveat that there are no rules! In fact, I need to re-read it.

Comic Book Design: I picked this up at B&N on a whim and in terms of just getting a bird's eye view of varied ways to tackle layout and paneling? It's such a great resource and reference! I personally recommend it as a way to really get a feel for what can be done.

the screenwriter's bible: this is a book that was used in my class. we also used another book that's escaping me but to be honest, I never read anything in school and that's why I'm so stupid. anyway, I'd say check it out if you want, especially if you start googling screenwriting stuff and it's like 20 billion pieces of advice that make 0 sense -- get the core advice from one place and then go from there.

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures: many people I know recommended this. I think I have it? It may be in storage. So frankly, I'd already read a bunch of books on comics before grabbing this that it kind of felt like a rehash. Which isn't shade on the authors — I personally was just a sort of "girl, I don't need comics 101!!!"

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate: this has been recommended so many times to me. I cannot personally speak on it but I can say I do trust those who rec'd it to me so I am passing it along

the story circle: this is pretty much the hero's journey. a useful way to think of journeys! a homie pretty much swears by it

a primer on beats: quick google search got me this that outlines storybeats

save the cat!: what the above refers to, this gives a more genre-specific breakdown. also wants to sell you on the software but you don't need that.

I hope this helps and please feel free to touch base with more info about your specific situation and hopefully I'll have more applicable answers.

[alonelysimp]

Genshin Band Au

Characters: Yanfei, Xinyan, Barbara, Y/N (reader)

WC: 1975

Warnings: No beta we die like hilichurls

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, No Ships, Headcanons, Bulleted

Spotify Playlist: Pov: you're in a band with Xinyan Yanfei and Barbara

《 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓴, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 》

Once when you were having lunch with Xinyan and Xiangling, Xinyan said something along the lines of “wouldn’t it be cool if i had a band?” and you, of course, jokingly said “if you started a band, then I wanna be the first member to join” and that’s basically how it started

You offered Xiangling if she'd like to join as well but she declined. As tempting as a life like that sounds, she’s set on her dream to be a chef. “I’d rather be your biggest fan!”

Not really knowing where to go at this point, you suggested posting a notice to the bulletin board beside the long-unused alchemy table and the one beside the adventurer’s guild typically reserved for commissions, but Katheryne gave you permission to put it up.

Xinyan had already begun to have the beginnings of a fanbase at this point, but it wasn’t really much of a surprise you hadn’t heard anything in a few days. You had even gone so far as to ask the traveler to keep an eye out.

Thankfully, the traveler was more successful than the both of you, bringing back a letter from both the top legal advisor in Liyue and the Idol and Deconess of Mondstadt. When you asked them how or why they put in so much effort, they just smiled and waved you off. The only payment they wanted were some small shiny rocks you had laying around as paperweights that you got from a hilichurl. Odd, but you insisted they accepted mora as well.

And so, on the agreed date mentioned in both of the letters, courtesy of the traveler setting up, you sat around a table at Wamin with a few assorted dishes of Jueyun Chili Chicken and Crab Roe Tofu. By the end, you were able to convince both of them to join. It was a bit.. really hard in the beginning, with Barbara and Yanfei having jobs. Barbara living in Mond didn’t help much either, but after some work it became manageable. You agree to meet every week at Pop’s Teas, one of the vendors at the stone gate. It would only take half an hour-ish each way.

“What should we call it?” You ask, languidly setting down your tea. Xinyan looks at you, still hunched over a few sheets of paper with her head propped up on her hand. “The band,” you clarify. Barbara hums from across the table, pressing a finger to her lip.

“I have a few ideas.” Xinyan pulls a blank sheet from the pile and scribbles BAND NAMES at the top. “Let’s brainstorm them while we’re all here.” One by one, you begin to throw out ideas.

Firelytical

Rockin Resistance

Wildfires

Illuminated Flames

Inferno

Sudden Freedom

She taps the pen to her lip, thinking of other names to suggest.

“These seem a bit.. fire-centric, even for a pyro-based band,” you comment. Yanfei nods, still deep in thought.

“Oh that’s a good idea, y/n.” You glance over, seeing Xinyan write down “Pyrocentric” on the list.

“Maybe it’d be best if we came up with ideas and shared them next week?” You nod at Barbara’s suggestion.

“I’ll keep a notepad with me in the office…” Xinyan tosses the pencil back on the table, watching Yanfei pull out what you assume to be the notebook and flip to a page, moving on to the next topic of discussion. “Costumes,” she says as her lips twist into a slight frown.

“Oh! I have some ideas for that,” you pull a sketchbook out of your bag, showing them your ideas. “I’m not very good at drawing but.. I wanted to keep some bits of your normal clothing too, I hope it’s not too much.”

“Y/n these look so amazing!” Barbara smiles, moving one to get a better look.

“Aw these are so awesome!” Xinyan slides over the one for her, grinning. Yanfei nods, looking over hers. “I could totally make these.” Her eyes sparkle with interest, radiating in the sunlight. “Oh,” she looks back up at you. “If you don’t mind, that is.” You wave her away, giggling under your breath.

“If Barbra and Yanfei don’t have any adjustments to make, I’d love to see my designs come to life!” You sip your tea, which has long gone cold by now. Barbara turns the paper around, pointing at the skirt on the page. “What if we add another one under it? If we make it a different colour, it’ll pop more.” You nod, pulling out a sheet and writing it down.

“Oh, oh y/n what if we added something here too?” Yanfei points to a slightly emptier spot on the hip. “Like an uhm…” she trails off.

“What if we put something like this from Xinyan’s?” You put your finger on a braided cord. “Like a belt, I guess?”

“Oh yeah yeah and I could put my vision on it–” she unconsciously reaches to touch the pyro vision at her side.

“Y/n?” Barbara sets aside her tea, as if she just found out the hard way that it’s cold. You hum, the pencil in your hand tapping against the page as you note details for Yanfei’s costume. “Thank you for working so hard on this!”

A few other names had come up during the week; BXY, Fiery Vale, and such, but you settled on Fervent Apricity. An odd name, but it’s meaning was able to win everyone over; the intense heat of the sun in the midst of winter. It fit the band well, you thought. Perhaps one day you should be able to live up to the name.

After a few months of dragging Yanfei away from her work to teach her the bass, which she picked up scarily fast (perhaps it's an illuminated beast thing?), you were able to arrange something with the millenith to not crash your debut concert. Yanfei suggested she just continued practicing for a while before she performed with it though.

You agreed that since there were only four of you, it wouldn’t be too much to have all of you as vocalists. Barabra lead vocals and choreography, Xinyan with lead guitar and harsh vocals, Yanfei rapping and eventually bass guitar, and you playing drums.

Tonight was the night. The night that Fervent Apricity would set foot on the stage for the first time. To be completely honest, you were a nervous wreck. Ignoring your worries didn’t make them go away, much to your annoyance.

Xiangling set up a food cart nearby, though she got distracted listening more than she cooked.

You sat in front of the drums, only moments left before you started. This was it. You’ve practiced so many times, it’ll be a breeze. Xinyan counted down, the strums from her guitar filling the summer night air as the concert began.

You would’ve felt bad being this loud so late at night, but by the time you had finished, you attracted not only a good portion of the residents in the harbor, but the wholehearted support of the largest fleet that docks in Liyue. The Crux and her crew! You recognize a lot of people from Xinyan’s previous concerts, loyal fans you assume she’s gained, and a good few handfuls of new faces. Travelers, probably.

You played into the night, without a care in the world for who may be listening. It lasted almost half an hour longer than one of Xinyan’s normal concerts. If you had to put the experience into one word, it was freeing. You were alive. The feeling was… incredible. But, as the adrenaline wore off, you came to realize how undeniably tired you were.

And so, that breathtaking performance marked the day that you would start your, Fervent Apricity’s, journey of becoming one of the most popular bands in Teyvat

For the week after, you had been working out the details of the next large concert. Xinyan carried on with her nightly performances, you caught word of Barbara still performing in Mond, although slightly less than usual, and you had been exchanging ideas with Yanfei. Despite her job and work schedule, she proves to be a great help, almost overwhelmingly so. After the second day, it felt more like her setting it up and running it by you instead of the other way around. Not that you could really complain, just a little less work for you.

After a few months of performing regularly in Liyue Harbor, Barbara suggested that you come to Mond. It’d be a new experience, since you had never really traveled outside of Liyue, but you were concerned it might affect Barbara’s reputation. She insisted. Playing with the band is something she’s proud of and the message your music brings is something she supports.

Was it running away? Finding a new audience that would love your music just as much as you did? No, just the opposite. It was finding a new audience, one that was just as foreign to it, and lighting it up one spark at a time.

You started working out the time with Yanfei and Barbara to fit their schedules and Xinyan started picking out songs she thought would be more… well accepted by the northern people and bouncing some ideas off you. The instruments weren’t much, so you were able to transport it easily. Barbara said to come to the plaza at the top of all the stairs a few days prior.

Xinyan had to tell the sentries you were here to perform with Barbara, to which they let you through with no further difficulties. People stared, and whether it was a good or bad thing, it was almost.. empowering? You met with Barbara and the other sisters, introducing yourselves as the other members of Fervent Apricity.

They were a bit weary of you, a ragtag group of musicians with a vaguely red and black colour scheme with Barbara, who had run off shortly after you arrived to change into her costume.

By the time she had returned, the makeshift stage had already been set up and a crowd began to form. It appears Barbara was quite popular here. You could tell they were a bit cautious though. Perhaps it’s because it’s pretty clear that your music was different from what Barbara usually played. All the better to prove how amazing rock could be.

There was but a few minutes left before you were scheduled to start. All the fireproofing needed was complete; you were ready to light up the city of freedom.

It was just like one of your normal concerts, a handful of songs you had played many times before. The crowd was a bit taken aback by Xinyan’s screaming, you had to hold in a laugh. You made a note to after, bring it up to her to get the crowd more fired up before choosing one that… intense. No matter how many times you performed, it was always just as lively as the first time.

Having mentioned your thought to Xinyan after the show, Yanfei came up to the both of you. She said she wanted to play her instrument in the next concert. Xinyan replied that if she wanted to then that’s a-okay but she shouldn’t feel pressured into it before she was ready

You overheard the “Barbara fan club,” as Barbara had mentioned earlier, crowding her and asking so many questions, it made you want to kick their asses to Inazuma.

“Barbara-sama, are you joining them permanently?”

“Barbara-sama, will you still be performing on your own?”

“Barbara-sama, how long have you been with them?”

“Barbara-sama, is this why you don’t let me join you to the stone gate?”

After a bit of rescuing and creep-yelling-at, Xinyan made a final announcement, mentioning the band’s name and the upcoming concert dates in Liyue.

Oh, how quickly time passes

ohmygod THANK YOU SM FOR 200- SHAWTYS ILYSM- ugh I might actually take this blog seriously soon..

Fervent Apricity Masterlist [ X ]

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH15

This section has a lot of moving parts, and a few surprises in store for our resident mean girls ;)

Previous     First      Next     AO3

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Chapter 15: Irresistible

Marinette stared across the street with a pensive frown, arms crossed, fingers tapping. She couldn’t bring herself to do it last night, partially because she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Even now, she still didn’t believe it was real, but as Gabrielle served coffee and sweets to patrons in broad daylight, there was no mistaking it.

Gabrielle had a job.

None of it made sense. Why was someone like her working at a café? Was it punishment? Did her parents want her to get the sense of what the “commoners” had to put up with to keep her humble? HA! As if. Maybe it was a publicity stunt. Rich heiress works relatable day job. Rich people were always trying to seem relatable.

Marinette pursed her lips, equally as confused as she was when her old classmates believed every word out of Lila’s mouth. Something else was going on. Gabrielle wore a polite smile for customers, but it didn’t touch her eyes. She looked… tired. It was the same look on every businessman’s face when they came into the bakery before work—exhaustion from the persistent grind of a monotonous routine. Whatever the reason was, Gabrielle had been there a while.

Mustering up her courage, Marinette took a deep breath and cautiously approached the café. She slipped through the front door, peering around at the other patrons, though Gabrielle was nowhere in sight. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? No, she’d definitely seen her. She was probably in the back. Should Marinette wait? What was she even going to say?

“Can I help you?” a stern-looking man behind the counter asked.

Marinette jumped. “Uh, I was just looking for someone…”

“If you’re not ordering, then get out.” He looked every bit as capable of throwing her out if necessary. Marinette understood why Gabrielle looked so exhausted with a manager this mean.

“I-I’ll have a coffee, please. Two creams, one sugar.” She dug out the correct amount of change and dumped it into his hand.

The man grunted in response before turning over his shoulder. “One up!”

Marinette flicked her gaze to the back door, but it remained shut. The manager sighed, stalking to the back with his hands on his hips.

“I’m just gonna go sit…” Marinette gestured to a table with her thumb.

A few moments later the door opened, and a tall girl slinked over to the coffee machine. Her hair was tucked inside of her cap, pulled low over her face. Marinette craned her neck to watch, but Gabrielle turned her back purposefully to hide her face. When the drink was finished, she placed it on the front counter and attempted to retreat to the back, but the manager cleared his throat, pointing to the table where Marinette sat. She let out a sigh before retrieving the drink from the counter and walking it over herself.

“One coffee.” She set it on the table with more force than necessary and turned over her shoulder quickly. “Enjoy.”

“Wait.” Marinette held out a hand. “Can I get an extra packet of sugar?”

Gabrielle’s shoulders stiffened, hands clenching into fists. She pointed to the supply stand across the room before retreating to the back, mumbling to her manager that she was going to take her break.

It seemed as though she wouldn’t be resurfacing any time soon, so Marinette pulled out her sketchbook and headphones, occasionally sipping her drink. She wasn’t going to let Gabrielle get away without explaining herself, especially after what happened last week. There was more to her than met the eye, and Marinette was going to get to the bottom of it. Gabrielle knew she wasn’t fooling anyone, so it was only a matter of time before she fessed up.

After a while, a green apron appeared at her table, and a perfectly manicured hand refilled her cup from the kettle.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

Murderous green eyes glared through Marinette, but she sipped her coffee calmly.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Gabrielle’s grip tightened on the handle, and Marinette had no doubt that it was taking all of her willpower to remain professional, lest she incur the wrath of her surly manager.

“Fine. You caught me. I… work here.” She cringed at the word as if it were painful to say.  “Congrats, you want a picture so you can show everyone at school?”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “I want to know why.”

“None of your business.” Gabrielle snapped. Marinette shrugged, taking a sip of her drink while Gabrielle tapped her foot contemplatively. “Fine, but not out here.”

Marinette yelped when Gabrielle pulled her up, scrambling to grab her things as she was dragged to the back. Kicking open the door to the small employee bathroom, Gabrielle shoved her inside and pulled the door shut behind them. She covered her face, taking a few deep breaths before lowering her hands to glare at Marinette.

“I work here because my family is bankrupt.” She choked on the word, covering her mouth. “My dad’s an idiot, and now his businesses are failing, investors are pulling out. Three generations of wealth is drying up. They told the manager I was 16, so I can help pay for school.”

Marinette’s eyebrows raised in shock, and she gaped in silence as Gabrielle took deep breaths. “How long have you been here?”

“Since the summer.” Gabrielle leaned against the sink. “And I’m probably going to die here one day. Once news gets out, we’re going to be the laughingstock of the town. No one in their right mind will hire me to do anything worthwhile. I’m gonna be stuck serving coffee to poor people forever.”

Marinette almost pointed out that Gabrielle was one of those “poor people” now, but it didn’t seem like the time. Besides, she stood between Marinette and the exit, so goading her wasn’t in Marinette’s best interest if she hoped to get out of there alive.

Even still, seeing how broken and miserable Gabrielle was… Marinette couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Just because she picked on everyone at school didn’t mean Marinette wished the worst for her. She couldn’t imagine having everything ripped away from her and being forced to work a job she hated. For the first time since moving to her new school, Marinette was the most fortunate one in the room.

Reaching out a reluctant hand, Marinette attempted to touch her shoulder, but Gabrielle shook her off. “I don’t need your pity!” she growled. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You’re just gonna go run and tell your little do-gooder squad and spread it around school.”

“I won’t,” Marinette promised, and when Gabrielle glared again, she added, “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Why? I more than deserve it after how I’ve treated you and your stupid little friends,” she said.

“It’s not my secret to tell.” Marinette shrugged.

“Wow, you really are stupid.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, the hints of a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, I guess. I really don’t deserve that from you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Gabrielle pursed her lips before reaching out to pat Marinette’s shoulder awkwardly. She averted her gaze and turned to the door, though her hand hesitated on the handle.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I come from a very messed up world, and up until a few months ago, I thought that it would always be my world. It’s been hard.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “Ya know, sometimes when I see people like you, I wish it were me. I wish I knew how to be nice.” She opened the door and stalked out, leaving Marinette alone in stunned silence.

“Whoa,” Marinette said. “I thought she was being punished by her parents, but bankrupt.”

“That explains why she backed down so easily whenever you challenged her,” Tikki piped up from her bag.

“I guess it is true when they say that you don’t really know someone.” Marinette winced.

“Maybe you can become her friend and teach her how to be nice. That way she can make new friends in the future,” Tikki suggested, but Marinette let out a mocking laugh.

“Oh no, I got my answer, so I’m going to forget this ever happened. I think it’s what Gabrielle wants. Besides, it’s not my job to go around fixing every broken person I come across. Look how well that went with Lila,” Marinette said pointedly.

“I think you’re wrong about what Gabrielle wants, and while it might not be your job, I think you can’t help yourself,” Tikki said.

“Of course I can. Watch.” Marinette gently pushed her back down with one finger before strutting out of the bathroom and all the way out the front door, though her bravado was short-lived when another familiar set of green eyes flashed her a taunting grin.

Lila.

Marinette froze in her tracks, heart taking off into a sprint. A range of emotions bubbled in her core—anger, fear, sorrow, regret. It had been over a month since Marinette left, and despite her best efforts to move on from her old life, Lila could dig up all of her past hurt with one sinister smile.  

She sat at an outside table, patiently sipping her drink. Her posture was relaxed, purposeful, and a bit too smug for Marinette’s liking. This was no coincidence. Lila had been waiting.

“Marinette, it’s good to see you,” she said with a sugary sweet lilt.

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.” Marinette’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying some coffee.” She lifted her cup as proof. “Now, did I stop here because I saw you walk in? Well, that’s debatable.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lila said innocently. “I was just taking a break from a long day with my best friends. They all just love me, especially Alya.”

“Good for you,” Marinette said. She brushed past her, but Lila wasn’t finished.

“Even Adrien has been paying attention to me lately. He’s like a strand of pasta, you know? He thinks he’s so tough when in reality he breaks so easily,” she cooed. “If you put a little heat on him, he’ll bend to your will in minutes.”

Marinette stopped in her tracks, hands clenching into fists. “Adrien knows you’re a liar,” she said. “If you push him, he’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“Maybe, but no one else will believe him if he tries to out me. I think he realizes that. It won’t be long before he gives up and conforms. He really can’t stand to lose all of his friends like you did.” She leaned against her fist with a smirk. “It won’t be long before I take him from you too, Marinette.”

Marinette spun around, angry tears welling in her eyes and a sharp retort on her lips, but Gabrielle appeared to refill Lila’s cup. She surveyed Marinette’s tortured expression before trailing the coffee stream across the table into Lila’s lap.

“Hey, watch it!” Lila shrieked, jumping up.

“Oops!” Gabrielle pressed a hand to her lips as Lila wiped at her romper. “Sorry I’m a little clumsy. I’m still training.”

“Ugh, you’re lucky this time, Marinette, but don’t think that this is over!” Lila growled. She grabbed her bag and stalked off.

Marinette and Gabrielle stood together in silence before one of them inevitably cracked, and they both threw their heads back with laughter.

“Thank you,” Marinette said. “That was… nice of you.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Don’t get any ideas. That was for your discretion,” she said.

She turned her head, but not in time to hide her flushed cheeks. Marinette hated to admit it, but Tikki was right. Sometimes she couldn’t help herself.

♪♫♪ Turn Off the Lights ♪♫♪

“Have you thought about what I asked last time?” Adrien asked.

Chloe chewed her sushi slowly, purposefully leaving him in anticipation. He really hated how sadistic she was, especially when it wasted his time. Consorting with Chloe made his skin crawl, but after Marinette called to tell him about her encounter that afternoon, he couldn’t wait any longer. If he knew anything about Chloe, it was that she’d do anything for expensive sushi.

“You really have fallen down quite the rabbit hole, Adrikins,” she said, sounding impressed. “First you threaten to blackmail me if I don’t help you, now you’re bribing me. I always knew I’d rub off on you eventually.”

“Look, this isn’t about petty revenge or whatever you normally do,” he said. “Lila is dangerous, and she needs to be stopped.”

“I seem to recall a time when I asked for your help, and you didn’t come through for me.” Chloe examined another piece of sushi thoughtfully. “If it were anyone else in the world, I’d have laughed in their face when they asked for help. You’re lucky we’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Adrikins.”

“I know I messed up. I’m sorry.” He lowered his gaze. “I learned my lesson.”

“Good. With your silly little conscience out of the way, we can actually get some real work done,” Chloe said. “I do have a few ideas for you, but…”

“But what?”

Chloe leaned against her fist with a wicked grin. “I need to test your loyalty. If you’re going to lie down with the dogs, you can’t be afraid to get dirty, so I need to know you’re capable of breaking the rules.”

A chill prickled his spine, and Adrien shifted in his seat. “What kind of rules?”

“See? This is why I have trust issues, Adrikins.”

He sighed, squaring his shoulders and facing her head-on. “Okay, fine. I’m in.”

“Excellent.” Chloe clapped for her butler, then pulled Adrien to his feet. “Your father thinks you’re helping me with my science homework tonight, but you and I both know Sabrina has already done it. I threatened my way into a party uptown, and you’re coming with me.”

“But-”

“Ah, ah!” Chloe held up a finger. “Prove to me you have what it takes. Break the rules.”

Adrien’s stomach churned as Chloe dragged him down to her waiting limo. When he’d come to her for help, he anticipated having to push his conscience aside to get what he wanted. To make a deal with the devil, he had to be willing to sell his soul, and sneaking out to a party across town was page one of their contract. It would all be worth it in the end. For Marinette’s happiness, he’d sell his soul a thousand times. He was already clutching the pen—Chloe just needed to show him where to sign.

♪♫♪ Pretty Places ♪♫♪

“Marinette! There’s someone here to see you!” Her mother called up the stairs that evening.

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed. Who would visit at this hour? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Adrien had piano practice. Macy had vocal lessons. Eliott and Martin were having some “guy time” whatever that meant. All of her friends were previously engaged, so who was waiting for her downstairs?

She set aside her knitting and slowly made her way to the living room. Whoever she expected to find didn’t compare at all to the tall red-head standing in the doorway.

“Gabrielle?” Her jaw dropped. “What are-”

“Is your room up here?” She pointed, quirking a perfectly-plucked brow. When Marinette nodded, Gabrielle took her wrist and dragged her back up the stairs.

“What-” Marinette gaped as Gabrielle shut the trap door and dusted her hands. “What is happening?”

“Get dressed.” Gabrielle ordered, but when Marinette remained frozen, she rolled her eyes and added, “We’re going to a party. Get dressed.”

“We’re what?” Marinette asked as Gabrielle threw her closet open and began digging through the rack.

“The son of one of my dad’s golfing buddies is throwing a party at their mansion tonight, and we’re going,” Gabrielle said. She sifted through hangers until she found a shirt and tossed it at Marinette. “Put that on.”

“Wh-”

“Do you know how to put on a shirt? Or does your mom dress you every morning?” Gabrielle looked her up and down.

“I know how to put on a shirt,” Marinette replied matter-of-factly. “I’m just confused. Are we friends now or-?”

“Gross, no.” Gabrielle wrinkled her nose and moved over to the dresser as Marinette turned her back to change.

“So, if we’re not friends, then what are we?” she asked as Gabrielle examined a pair of black jeans.

She lowered them, a thoughtful expression on her face before she shrugged and tossed them at Marinette too. “I can’t party with my old crew without risking them finding out my secret, but you on the other hand are stupid enough not to tell anyone despite how delicious it would be to watch my world crumble after I was so mean to you,” she explained while rummaging through Marinette’s shoes. “So, I’m settling for you tonight.”

“Thanks?” Marinette tilted her head to the side. “I think.”

“Where’s your makeup?” Gabrielle asked. When Marinette retrieved a small pouch from her vanity, Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. “Ugh, this is all you have?”

“I don’t wear a lot of makeup,” Marinette said defensively.

“If I weren’t broke, I’d buy you a proper makeup collection, but we’ll work with what we have for now.” She tucked it under her arm. “Come on. We’ll do your makeup in the car.”

“We- wait!” Marinette called as Gabrielle descended the stairs.

“Hi, sweetie, is this one of your new friends?” her mom asked as Marinette scrambled after Gabrielle. They exchanged glances, and Gabrielle gave her a stern look.

“Uh, yeah. She’s one of my classmates,” Marinette said.

“Gabrielle Burton, it’s nice to meet you, madame,” she said in the politest tone Marinette had ever heard from her. “We’re meeting up with a group of friends to see a movie. Do you mind if I steal her for the evening? My driver will bring her home afterward.”

“Of course, you girls go have fun,” her mom said.

Gabrielle didn’t wait for Marinette to respond before taking her wrist.

“Uh, bye, mom!” Marinette called over her shoulder.

Marinette blinked a few times as Gabrielle shoved her into the back of a town car, and the driver headed uptown. Gabrielle turned her chin with one finger, shaking the foundation bottle in the other hand.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered. When Marinette hesitated, she added, “Relax, I’m not going to make you look ugly. I’d never be seen arriving with someone who looks like a wannabe beauty guru.”

Marinette pursed her lips but relented, allowing Gabrielle to make her over on the drive. Several times Gabrielle grumbled about her limited options, stating several expensive products that would have worked better. Nevertheless, she attained some level of satisfaction because she instructed Marinette to open her eyes and look in the mirror.

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyebrows raised. Her makeup never looked half this good when she did it herself—a skilled hand made all the difference. She peeked up at Gabrielle applying her own lip gloss and pursed her lips. “So, what kind of party is this?”

“Relax, goody-two-shoes, the most exciting thing at this party is wine. My parents don’t let me go to trashy parties.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, removing her large trench coat to reveal a sparkly black dress with mesh cutouts along the waist. “Just try not to act too lowbrow, okay? Don’t embarrass me.”

“I’ll do my best?” Marinette said as they pulled up to the front steps.

“Great.” Gabrielle tossed her compact into her purse and kicked open the door. “Oh, and just because we’re arriving together does not mean you are allowed to socialize with me here. Don’t hang off me like a sad little koala. Go dance and have fun with other people.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re friends,” Marinette said.

“Exactly. I’m so glad you understand.”

Marinette took in the towering mansion with wide eyes, twirling around in the foyer to catch all of the detail work. She’d been hanging out with her new friends for almost a month, but she still wasn’t quite used to such luxurious mansions.

“Cut it out! You act like you’ve never seen crown molding before,” Gabrielle hissed. She closed Marinette’s jaw with her finger. “Just be normal.”

“Yes, because this is so normal.” Marinette gestured to the marble statue fountain in the middle of the foyer, and Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

“It is for these people. Now get away from me.” She spun Marinette around and pushed her toward the sitting room where various groups of people were chatting over hor d’oeurves before retreating to the living room dancefloor.

Marinette stumbled several feet, bumping into someone’s back and falling onto her butt.

“Sorry!” She rubbed her head, but the warm green eyes staring down at her held no contempt. “Adrien?”

[dramatic-squirrel]

Damianette December Day 9- book

It may be confusing when the boys are speaking English and when they’re speaking French but, generally, they are speaking English unless they are addressing Marinette directly.

@daminette-december2019-2020

Considering how awful it had gone the last time the class had done this, it was surprising that Ms. Bustier’s class was once again at the Grand Paris to try the various jobs around the hotel. True to her previous actions, Chloe still did her utmost to drag Marinette down, this time, she was stuck cleaning the lobby.

The joke was on Chloe though, because Marinette wasn’t so spoiled that she didn’t appreciate what janitors and cleaning maids did. It was just cleaning, not like it was going to hurt her.

As she was vacuuming the couch, she found something between the cushions, a book. “Hey Tikki, what do you think this is?” she opened it up a bit and saw a sketch of a city skyline. The city was unfamiliar to her but it definitely helped her figure out that she was holding a sketchbook.

“D.a. G.W.,” that was the only thing that indicated who it might belong to. “Should we give this to the front desk, right Tikki? It’s probably a hotel guest’s if it was in the lobby, they’d probably be able to find them based on the initials or at least hold it until they came back.” She looked back to where Chloe was sitting, filing her nails, and groaned slightly. “Or maybe we try to find them ourselves?”

“Marinette. You know the right thing to do here would be to give Chloe the sketchbook and leave it to the lobby clerk.” the kwami understood Marinette’s frustration but, was also dedicated to guiding her partner on the right path.

“Yeah, I know you’re right. I just wish you weren’t,” she made her way to the front desk. “Someone left this behind Chloe.”

The blond glanced at her. “And? What do you want me to do about it? Just throw that dirty book away and be done with it. Do your job properly, Dupain-Cheng.” That was about how well Marinette expected the conversation to go. Instead of talking back and making the situation worse, she held herself back, Chloe would just make some snide comment or complain to her father.

Turning around, she decided to finish the job she had been given and then asked Ms. Bustier if she could try to find the owner of the sketchbook. As someone who frequently used one herself, she knew how important sketchbooks were to an artist, and based on the details of the first sketch she saw, the owner of the book was definitely an artist.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It’s great that you got permission Marinette.”

“It is Tikki. Now we just need to get Chloe away from the computer. Luckily she’s easy to read.” Marinette walked up to the lobby desk again after she was sure the Lobby Clerk was still gone. “Hey, Chloe. Did you see all of those fans fawning over Adrien on the Hotel’s rooftop. He’s practically surrounded by them.” Rage instantly filled Chloe’s face when she heard those words.

“No one’s allowed close to my Adrikins except me.” And voila, the front desk was missing one Chloe Bourgeois. Marinette slipped behind the desk, once Chloe was safely in the elevator and went to search up the guest in the database. 

She looked up last names beginning with W first, to see if any fit the initials she found in the book. Unfortunately, she was out of luck there. On the bright side, it wasn’t a long list to go through, so she managed to finish quickly. 

It then occurred to her that perhaps, like her last name, this person also had two last names, so she looked through the names that began with A next. She still didn’t find anything. Checking the time, she noticed that Chloe might be back soon so she had to come up with a new plan.

“What if you looked for the person based on where they live?” It was Tikki’s suggestion. 

“That might work but, I don’t know where they’re from.”

“But, perhaps the sketchbook might give you some clues as to where they may be from. The cityscape at the beginning could be where this person lives, they may find inspiration from the things around them, kind of like you.”

“It’s worth a shot,” she hesitated a bit before she started turning the pages of the book. It felt kind of invasive to go through someone’s sketches without their permission but there was no telling if they would ever find their sketchbook otherwise.

“Oh, wow,” the pictures were genuinely breathtaking. It was like Tikki thought, most of the pictures were of a city, and based on the architecture, it seemed like it was the same city. A few pictures of animals appeared, and one of a fantasy creature but, mostly it was a city. 

It seemed that the owner liked to sketch more secluded or lesser-known spots since none of the places had any distinguishing features, especially none she could recognize, until she turned the page, and saw a building with the words “Wayne Enterprise” on the side of the building. There was no mistaking where that building was. “Gotham! Tikki, they’re from Gotham!”

She hurriedly looked up the location on the computer and saw a booking by a Richard Grayson for three rooms on the 5th floor. And they were still there, which was a relief because she wasn’t sure what she would do if they had left Paris already.

The name didn’t match the sketchbook, but it occurred to her just then, that perhaps the owner themselves didn’t make the booking and was traveling with friends or family. Slipping from behind the desk she made her way to the elevator just as it arrived. Out of it, Chloe dragging a reluctant Adrien exited. Adrien caught her eye and winked at her.

Being her superhero partner for the past 3 years, he knew when she was scheming something, and he knew just how to go along with her crazy plans. Sending him a grateful smile, she entered the elevator and made her way to the room number she had found.

Standing in front of the hotel room, she began to second guess herself. They might not even be there right now, or maybe she got the wrong room. Just as she was determined to leave and find one of the actual employees to take care of the situation, the door in front of her opened. She came face to face with a man, black hair and insanely blue eyes, who stared at her just as she stared at him.

“Oh god, Bruce found another one, didn’t he. Dick! Can you please tell Bruce to stop adopting children?” The man spoke in English so she couldn’t quite follow along with what he said only something about children and the fact that he was addressing someone else.

“Excuse me?” she hoped he understood French. “I found this sketchbook in the lobby and I think it might belong to someone staying in this hotel room.” The man’s eyes finally saw the book in her hands just as another almost identically looking man came to the door.

He seemed half asleep as he stood in the threshold holding a cup of coffee in his hand. “What’re going on about Jason. Bruce didn’t adopt anyone recently, Alfred already asked me to keep an eye on any adoption papers that might be processing with his name on it. I’d know if he was adopting someone.” the sleepy man’s eyes landed on her and the cup in his hand fell to the floor with a crash. “Shit. I didn’t think about foreign countries. I’ve got to go tell Alfred.”

The first man grabbed the other one before he could leave. “Relax, it was a false alarm, she’s just returning something for Damian.” He turned to her, “I’ll take it, I know who it belongs to.” Up to that point, Marinette didn’t quite get what was going on, but she was sure that she didn’t entirely trust these people. It was hard to follow their  English but their actions were weird.

“I’m sorry Monsieur, but I would feel more comfortable if I gave it to the actual owner of the book, instead of… his acquaintance.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet the brat. He’ll probably accuse you of stealing. It would be better to give it one of us to pass along.” The skepticism remained on her face. That was when a voice came from behind the two men in the doorway.

“Get out of the damn way, you morons. I can’t leave the room with you blocking the entrance.” 

The first man sighed in resignation when the voice came through and stepped aside. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped now. It’s this demon spawn’s sketchbook.” she turned to see the artist that she had been looking for.

He was about average height, although compared to the person who had initially opened the door, he was small. His skin was also more tanned than his acquaintances, and although they share the same black hair, his eyes were a brilliant green, more vibrant than even Adrien’s.

“Excuse me, Monsieur,” she called out to him. “I seemed to have found your sketchbook in the hotel lobby. Is this your book?” he stopped in his tracks when she started talking. 

Numbly, he nodded his head. Recognizing that he hadn’t properly answered, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. Yes, that’s my book.” his responses, while curt were far from insulting as the other man had suggested. Holding the book out to him, their fingers touched as he grabbed the book.

His touch was warm and gentle and it startled her enough that she accidentally let go of the book. Apparently, he was also startled for he too, let go of the sketchbook, and it fell to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to let go so soon,” Marinette bent down to pick up the book.

“It’s okay. I’m at fault as well.” He took the book from her outstretched hand. “Thank you, for finding my sketchbook and returning it to me.”

“No problem. I understand how devastating it might be to lose a sketchbook, I’m happy I could bring it back to you.” she smiled at him and then checked the watch she was wearing. It was almost time for her class to leave. “I need to head back but, it was wonderful meeting you.” she waved and turned around towards the elevator.

Damian stared at her back as she left. Only, when she had already been gone for a few minutes did he notice a book on the ground. Picking it up, he saw the name Marinette Dupain-Cheng written on the front, and, opening up the front page he saw that it was her sketchbook. 

It seemed that this time he was going to have to find her.

[agreeablesenseofthemacabre]

Lifting the Sea

“Where’s Cas?” 

Dean does a full comedic rotation before spotting the Angel— his husband— whatever, scowling at his phone near a landmark. 

He shrugs, “Catching those little monster dudes probably. Apparently they’re all over the place here.”

Sam’s brow furls, he looks over at Eileen who shrugs. 

“What?”

“You know that fuckin’ app that everybody was obsessed with like... 5 years ago? Pocket something something”

Sam frowns for a split second then it hits him.

“Pokémon go?”

“Yeah that shit.” Dean shrugs again, his green eyes still fixed on the man in question. “I knew it was a mistake getting a smartphone” but he doesn’t sound nearly as bothered as he claims. He glares upward. “It’s fucking hot” 

Sam’s also dart up. “I mean. It’s the beach Dean.” He stares pointedly at his brother’s attire. “Would it kill you to buy some shorts maybe a tshirt?” 

Dean pulls a face, but doesn’t argue, Cas is waving happily- just now noticing how far they’ve walked away from him. He points excitedly to his phone and says something. 

“Can’t hear—” Dean sighs, “CAN’T HEAR YA CAS, you’re too far” he yells, smiling softly. “Asshole.” 

Dean points at the nearby shop, waving to get Sam’s attention, a couple kids are clustered around Cas chattering to him animatedly. 

“Sam. Can you keep an eye on him? I’ll be right back” 

~~~

When Dean walks back out into the sunshine Cas has finally decided to join them. He’s signing to Eileen and going intensely through the alphabet. Probably more about that damn Pokémon game. 

Sam whistles, “I’m blind” he laughs. “Your legs, they’re reflecting the sun”

Dean flips him off.

“No, but for real Dean, have your thighs ever been exposed to light? Are you sure it’s safe?”

“HA, HA, fuck you”

Cas turns at his voice, eyes glowing happily, and how in the hell did Dean Winchester get so lucky. 

“I caught a Charizard in the wild Dean, none of the other players were able to capture him” He informs proudly, phone still out, finger flipping with precision, “You have very nice legs” he adds. “The sunlight will cause you to have more freckles, plus the added health benefits of vitamin D”

Dean winks, “Any nude beaches out here? I could benefit from your vitamin d”

Sam retches, seizing the umbrella from Dean and heading toward the beach. “You two are disgusting” 

Dean waves cheerily before turning back to his boyfriend— husband. 

“So What’s a charred—“

“Charizard.” Cas corrects, “dragon fire type”

“Uh-huh” Dean reaches for Cas’ hand, it takes him a second to get used to flicking with his thumb, but he manages, Dean lets Cas lead. “Did you bully those kids out of their dragon? Dragons suck dude.”

“It is very rare to catch in the wild, Edwin told me, he is one of the top players in this region, he is 12, and though he is Team Valor, and I am team Instinct, I decided to trust him.”

“Whatever you say babe.”

“I think you might enjoy this game Dean, it combines hunting and tracking with less bloodshed and all of the monsters seem kind.” Cas squints suddenly, yanking them out of the flow of traffic and down onto the beach. “I see combees.”

~~

“Handsome and artistic, you’ve gotta be a serial killer right?”

Dean raises his head, shielding his eyes in the sun. She’s tall, and curvy with sparkling eyes and a near perfect smile. 

“I don’t know about artistic, but I never murder and tell”

She throws out a hand. 

“I’m Clarice” 

“Dean.”

She notices the lift of his expression and rolls her eyes good naturally, “Yeah like Silence of the Lambs”

“Put the lotion in the basket” he intones with a mock accent. 

“Yeah that never gets old” 

He laughs and she smiles and takes a seat on the beach chair beside him.

“What brings you out here into the sunshine?” 

“Celebratin’.” His eyes turn back to his sketchbook, thumb smudging a carefully drawn mop of black hair.

“Oh, that’s fun, how old are you?” She doesn’t seem bothered by his in attention, sips her drink and watches him sketch. 

“Ah um” He shifts and does the mental math. “Forty-three I think...”

“Looking good” she says appreciatively. He’s too focused on the lines, eyes occasionally darting to the ocean, quite obviously only half listening. She’s not put off yet- no ring on his finger, only a necklace with two silver circles and that could mean anything.

“So uh, a couple of my friends are headed down into the—“

“DEAN!” 

His attention is immediately diverted, a man waist-deep in the frigid surf is pointing excitedly at something, he’s still wearing his snorkel mask. He pulls something free of the water- revealing a long, lean wriggling shape.  

“Is that a fucking shark?” Dean mutters in disbelief, then much louder “CAS is that a fucking shark?”

A giant man with longer hair stops splashing the woman with him, turns and starts cackling. The shark handler pulls his mask off, beaming. “Jack would love this!”

Clarice shades her eyes and takes a good look at the man with the shark and then at the drawing Dean’s been working on. 

“Who’s that?” She asks, his distraction giving her a better chance seeing what’s in his sketchbook. 

A lovingly rendered drawing of what looks like the man with the shark. But in the sketch it’s in a much different position, hair ruffled in detail over his brow. Blankets pooled around his barely covered hipbones. His eyes burn with inner heat despite the fact that they’re merely pencil on paper. His subject had clearly been in love with whomever he’d been looking at. 

“That is my boyfriend, he’s gonna get his nipple bit off if he’s not careful.” Dean’s smiling cause Sam is trying to talk Cas into releasing the shark and is clearly failing. “Oh hell, I guess husband now.”

She stands, “I am so sorry, I didn’t realize. I gotta—“

“Nice to meet you Clarice” he says, honestly surprised by her quick exit. “Yo STEVE IRWIN. put the shark down and come up here— time to reapply sunblock”

~~

“Who was that woman?” Cas asks, shaking like a dog and stirring a loud swearing session out of Dean as he shields his sketchbook from the saltwater.

“What woman?”

“The one speaking to you earlier? When I caught the shark?”

Dean looks completely vacant before remembering. “Oh shit, yeah! Clarice or something. Nice lady.”

Cas nods, waiting patiently while Dean starts applying sunscreen to his back. 

“Did she need something?”

Dean shrugs, “just being friendly I guess, lean close. I gotta get your nose”

Cas hums and obliges, he grins suddenly and rips open a Velcro pocket in his trunks revealing his prize to Dean. 

“Is that a goddamn crab Castiel?”

The angel nods happily. “We should find out if Claire can FaceTime. She would love to see.”

~~

Claire and Kaia lean close, Dean’s got the camera aimed so that it’s mostly sky and their foreheads. Cas is smushed against his cheek waving. 

“Jesus.” Claire hisses. “Hold the damn camera still. Dean— look, YOU’RE the square in the corner.”

Kaia hasn’t stopped giggling since they connected.

“How is Kansas?” Cas asks. “Are you well?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “You’ve been gone two days. It’s the same Cas— house burned down and a ghoul attack—“

The camera reels, two deep gruff voices start speaking rapidly. 

“She’s joking!” Kaia intervenes. “Castiel, Dean. She’s joking. We’re fine and safe, worst thing that happened is we ran out of coffee.”

He nods seriously— the left side of Dean’s face is unamused.

“Tell them not to put damn Walmart coffee in my coffee machine—“

Cas lifts a blurry item into view. “I caught a crab today,”

She freezes only for a moment, crabs had been her thing in 1st grade. Her dad had shared some of his favorite memories with Cas; she was realizing that he did it because he trusted the angel. The crab thing was a new one— he seems proud though, pleased that he remembered. 

“He also caught a fucking shark with his bare hands.” Dean adds, taking the phone back, view now up his nostrils. They’re both sunburned and nearly glowing with happiness. “Almost lost a nipple”

“I did not.” It’s Cas’ turn to roll his eyes. “I will send you photographs via messaging after the call.”

“When are you guys headed back?” Claire asks, cause she’s pleased about the pictures and doesn’t know how to admit it. 

Dean turns the camera again. This time slightly more centered. 

“Sam and Eileen are heading home tomorrow, but Cas says he has more surprises for me and “undomesticated equine could not drag the secrets from him’”

Dean and Claire snort simultaneously. 

“I was being funny.” Cas interjects, Dean laughs at something off camera and grabs his face, kissing Cas’ cheek. “I know the saying.”

“Gotta go.” Dean says, with a wink. “Gotta get our vitamin D for the day, right Sunshine?”

The camera tips; Cas is frowning in confusion and they can barely see the top of Dean’s now suggestively wagging eyebrows.

“Oh. Uh. Yes.” Cas looks guiltily at the phone and shakes his head at Dean. “Vitamins.”

Kaia starts wheezing with laughter. It dawns on Claire moments later.

“That’s fucking gross.”

Cas shrugs apologetically, Dean’s laughter fills the background.

“We appear to be having connection issues.” Cas mutters, They watch Cas fumble with the phone as he frantically tries to hang up before Dean does anything scandalous.

“See you in a week!” Dean shouts. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Bye...” the screen goes dark and Claire is left with her and Kaia’s amused reflections. “Dads.”

~~ 

If you liked this it’s connected to my ao3 vibesandwonders. Come say hey here and see the rest of the series

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Much Ado About Nothing

Summary: On Valentine’s Day, Johanna’s visit to the library takes longer than expected due to ... unforseeable circumstances.

Snowed in Valentine’s Day sketchbook AU

Notes: Okay this fic was written and revised at the quickest speed I could manage so it’s probably not the best, but in my defence I wasn’t even going to write it before I saw @kaminos-hangout-corner ‘s post about v day being cold like, three days ago, so it’s the best I could do :3. Happy Valentines, hope you enjoy it! (also please keep in mind I live in a place where snow is not a thing, so sorry if this is too inaccurate)

Read it on ao3  I  Read last year’s Valentine’s sketchbook fic

The library’s closing time had long since passed by, yet the lights inside it were still lit, something that was becoming recurrently common these days. With it being a Sunday, the library’s doors were supposed to have been locked at five in the afternoon, but the librarian had found herself… otherwise engaged.

Johanna had walked in earlier that day, bringing a basket of cookies to give her and of course, bringing her lovely self. Even if she wanted to do so, Kaisa wouldn’t have had the heart to tell her to go away when the time had come for her to close the library, and she very much hadn’t wanted to.

Sometimes the kind woman came to doodle; on the occasion when Kaisa had mustered up enough bravery to ask her about it, back when the two of them barely spoke at all, Johanna had said she liked the peace and quiet of the library, as well as finding it an inspiring place. The librarian had had to agree, there was something about the place that inspired not only knowledge, but also imagination, but she didn’t dare say that it was probably the vestiges of magic in the air.

Other days, which Kaisa had to admit were her favourite, Johanna came simply to check out a book and she always made time to exchange a few words with the librarian; the baked goods were new, but Kaisa was definitely not about to complain.

Of course, she supposed she shouldn’t really be talking during her working hours, nor giving all her attention to one single library patron, but it wasn’t like anyone else but Johanna seemed to even want the librarian’s attention, and besides that they always kept their voices down so as not to disturb anyone. Seeing as the situation seemed completely unproblematic, Kaisa didn’t stress about it, and even felt flattered that Johanna had chosen to spend some more time with her on that date, since she certainly had better things to do. The problem came when, hours after the library had been closed, when they had already spent hours chatting alone in her break room and eating the cookies, Johanna looked at the clock and  suddenly excused herself, saying that she needed leave.

“Do you want any help?” Kaisa asked after a couple of seconds of watching the woman struggle to push the library doors. It seemed like a very unusual occurrence, in Kaisa’s eyes. Big as they were, those doors had never given her much trouble, and she knew for a fact that Johanna was a strong woman. She still remembered the time she’d let a pile of books fall from her cart and Johanna had picked all of them up for her at once, which considering how lengthy and heavy the books had been, was no small feat.

“I think I do, actually.” Johanna adjusted her grip on the handle in a way that allowed Kaisa to grasp it too. For a moment, the librarian’s fingers brushed against Johanna’s hand, allowing her to feel how soft they were. Were she not in Kaisa’s presence, she would have huffed at herself for noticing such a small thing in the situation she was in; she really had it bad.

They attempted to open the door again, together that time, being unsuccessful once more. Kaisa’s brow creased. Granted, she hadn’t expected her limited strength to be of much help, but this shouldn’t be this hard either.

“Together on a three count?” Johanna suggested and Kaisa nodded. They both took a wider stance, and when Johanna reached the ‘three’, they dumped all their body weight into the door, but to no avail. They would have had more luck moving a boulder.

The two of them were heaving with the effort when they stopped, Kaisa going as far as leaning forward and placing her hands on her knees to rest.

“What on earth…” Kaisa breathed, before connecting the dots and immediately coming back to an upright position as if she had been startled. “Oh no.”

Johanna gasped when the librarian began running away to the closest window. She’d known it had been snowing, but she really hadn’t given this matter much thought. Spending her days inside the library, it wasn’t often that the weather became a hindrance to her, so it hadn’t even registered in her mind that it might become on that specific day.

“Tell me something.” Close as she was to the window, the tip of her nose nearly touching it, Kaisa’s words and breathing caused condensation to spread on the glass. “Was it already snowing when you got here?”

Approaching the window as well, Johanna grimaced at the amount of white flakes falling quickly to the ground outside. “It was, yes.”

“Damn it.” She whispered softly, trying to keep her cool while inside she was already cringing at having to deliver these news. “I’m sorry, Johanna, but it looks like you’re snowed in with me.”

_#_#_#_

If Kaisa had stopped to think properly, she would have noticed that she was stressing about the situation a lot more than Johanna herself was. This gave the artist conflicting feelings at best. She didn’t know what to think about how desperate Kaisa seemed to be to get rid of her.

For her part, the librarian couldn’t get out of her mind that she had ruined Johanna’s Valentine’s Day. Surely, for her to have asked to leave so suddenly earlier, it was because she had a date (or at least something that was worth her time more than keeping the lonely librarian company), and Kaisa told herself that if she hadn’t been so selfish and had stuck to the rules, asking her to leave the library at the time everyone else was supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened. Now Johanna was stuck with her as company.

Johanna had asked if there wasn’t any other way out that she could use, even though seeing Kaisa’s distress was already enough of an answer. Kaisa had had to bite her tongue and say that no, there weren’t any other ways in or out, even though she could list other five just from the top of her head; the Witches Tower wasn’t exactly open for visitors, and Kaisa would prefer it if Johanna did not end up in the void of no return.

Together, they had tried forcing the door open a few more times, even though they both knew it would be no use. For the first time since she’d known her, Kaisa wished Johanna would stay away from her, if only for one second. If she got distracted for long enough, maybe she could figure out a spell to melt the snow outside. Or to blow the door away and blame it on a new variation of mutant book worms, whichever seemed more believable. No such luck, however, since Kaisa had worked herself into a fine state of panic, and worried for her, Johanna made sure to stay close.

Kaisa’s next grand idea was to call the Safety Patrol. They were the ones responsible for operating Trolberg’s snowplows, so hopefully they would be able to help them out quickly. There was a phone behind the circulation desk, and a sticky note with useful numbers glued on it. The librarian took a moment to thank her past self for jotting down the patrol’s contact number, even though she couldn’t imagine herself in any other situation in which she’d ask for their help. Still, it was good to know that at least at some point in her life she’d been competent.

Her fingertips tapped against the wood anxiously as the phone ringed three, four, five times before someone picked up.

“Safety Patrol, what is your emergency?” The voice on the other side was heavily accented, and Kaisa sent a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening in gratefulness that it wasn’t the leader of the patrol that had picked up. She wouldn’t trust that man to open a jar.

“Good evening, I need to have the snow removed from the library doors immediately.”

“The library? Sorry ma’am, it says here that the library is closed. There’s no one there anymore, so there are places that will be needing the snowplow with more urgency.”

Kaisa rolled her eyes, which caused her to look up at Johanna. The woman was looking somewhat uncomfortable, and Kaisa took it that it was because, as she had mentioned before the librarian picked up the phone to make that call, she didn’t want to bother the Safety Patrol. Though she had insisted that there was no need for such haste, Kaisa knew she was only trying to be kind, or maybe to make Kaisa herself feel like she wasn’t such bad company. But she wasn’t who Johanna wanted to be with at that moment, so she would do whatever it took for the woman to get what she really wished for.

“I am at the library.” She answered, irritation making her tone harsh like the cold outside.

“You are?” The woman on the other side didn’t sound suspicious, only surprised. “Why? Who are you?”

“I’m the librarian.”

There was a beat of silence as the officer understood the situation. “Oh. I see. Well, I’m afraid that doesn’t change many things, ma’am. This amount of snow caught us all by surprise, many places weren’t ready for it. So, you see, there are people snowed in without supplies, and people snowed in on risk areas. Of course, there are also the main roads which need to be cleaned up. You have a private office with water and some food, don’t you? We will solve your problem when we can, but it might take a while.”

“Listen to me.” Kaisa summoned up her most threatening tone, wishing she’d never allowed Erik’s administration to make that silly inspection in the library, or at least that she could threaten to turn whoever she was talking to into a toad. She highly doubted Johanna would appreciate it, though. “I need you to let me out right now. I don’t care if all you bring is a machete so you can break one of the windows, just-”

So absorbed she’d been in trying to sound convincingly intimidating, something Kaisa was most certainly not used to, she was startled when Johanna grabbed the phone right out of her hand.

“Good evening officer, sorry for the bother.” She was leaning on the circulation desk, propped up on her elbows and sounding remarkably calm. “We will wait, don’t worry about us. Good luck with all the snow tonight. Goodbye.”

The officer said something else, but after that Johanna put the phone back in its hook. When she met the librarian’s gaze, Kaisa felt as if a blow had been delivered to her chest. Johanna looked sad with her, and she couldn’t fathom why. If she was only trying to help…. than the problem must be that Kaisa had allowed this to happen in the first place. Kaisa looked down, not wanting to look at Johanna’s face and see the disappointment in her any longer. She didn’t mean to be the wrong person for her to spend Valentine’s day with, she thought as a blush covered her cheeks, making matters worse, but she could hardly apologize for that, could she?

“Kaisa.” Johanna sighed. “There’s no need for all of this, really. Just… just let me make a call, will you?”

“Of course.” The librarian got up from the chair and walked around the desk, switching places with Johanna. Meaning to give her privacy, she walked a little further away, but couldn’t help but hear the first words she said.

“Hi, sweetie.” Johanna said softly.”I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it for dinner tonight-”

A sudden wave of cold washed over her, and Kaisa wrapped her cape tighter around herself. This conversation really wasn’t something she wanted to hear.

Figuring a hot drink would serve her well, she went back to her office and put some water to boil in the kettle. Some black tea would serve her well, but Johanna looked like the sort of person who drank red berries tea. She didn’t even dare to pick the flavour for her, however, since she had no intention of adding one more screw up to the night.

Johanna joined her right as the water finished boiling. “I already told her I won’t make it tonight.” She said as Kaisa gestured for her to choose a tea bag, allowing the librarian to pour the water on her teacup. “So no worries. I hope.”

“Ah.” Kaisa ran her thumb on the porcelain of her cup. She wanted to take a sip so she would have an excuse not to say anything, but that would certainly cause her to burn her tongue. The atmosphere between them was one she didn’t like, even if she reluctantly had to admit that she’d been the one to create it; it was heavy with discomfort and with words left unsaid, but at least for that last part there was something she could do.

“Johanna, I am sorry.” She said finally, making the other woman look at her with an eyebrow lifted in confusion. “It’s my fault that you’re stuck here right now.”

Looking exasperated, Johanna shook her head. “Kaisa, truly, you don’t have to worry about it. It doesn’t really matter that much, she’ll be fine-”

“It does matter!” Kaisa didn’t know why she was arguing against herself, but she felt like she needed Johanna to be angry at her, because otherwise she’d be the one who would continue being angry with herself. “I should have paid more attention to the time and to the weather. But it was so nice to talk to you privately for a longer while that I… forgot. And now your date is ruined because of that!”

She was gripping the mug so tightly that if it were slightly more frail she’d worry that it might break. Biting the inside of her cheek in an attempt to hold back the tears that were threatening to choke her, Kaisa looked out at the small window in her break room. The snow continued to fall stubbornly, caring not for any of them. Apologizing always sucked; whenever she had too much she wanted to say, it tended to come out all at once in ridiculous manifestations of emotion, leaving her feeling like a fool. At least it was done, and now all she did was wait for Johanna to say something.

“My date?’ Johanna half mumbled, half laughed after a second. “I don’t have a date.”

Kaisa whipped her gaze back to her. “Of course you do.” She said without even thinking about her words, an unusual thing for her to do. “You just called her, did you not? It’s Valentine’s day, who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

To her utter surprise, Johanna laughed, a bubbling sound that began in her chest until it spilled out of her, filling the room with its warmth. Kaisa didn’t even care that the laughter was at her expense; Johanna wasn’t sad anymore and that was what mattered most.

“Kaisa, that wasn’t my date. I was calling my daughter.”

The librarian blinked in surprise, hoping her hair hid the pink spreading on her face. “But… when you noticed the time, you said you needed to leave immediately.”

Johanna’s mug could barely hide her satisfied grin behind itself as she took her first taste of the reddish beverage. Now that she knew exactly what Kaisa’s panic had been about, and that it had nothing to do with wanting Johanna to go away, she was admittedly enjoying the situation way more that she thought she should.

“Yes, because my daughter has an inclination to chaos and would take my being late as an excuse to meddle around the kitchen and possibly set the house on fire.” Watching realization dawn in Kaisa’s face was like watching the sun rise, so deep the transformation was. “I just told her to order in to avoid accidents.”

Holding her steaming cup with her left hand, the librarian used her right one to cover her face. She really hoped there were no witches going through any of the secret passages at the moment that had heard that exchange. They would never let her live this down.

“Oh my goodness.” Her words were muffled by the heel of her hand, and in a show of compassion, Johanna held her giggles back. “I’m so sorry for the way I acted, that was honestly pitiful. I just wanted to make sure you could spend your Valentine’s day - well, Valentine’s evening, I suppose, with the person you wanted.”

Internally repremending herself, Kaisa didn’t dare look at Johanna; she hated how vulnerable and emotional she sounded, and it ought to have made the other woman uncomfortable. She brought her cup to her lips and immediately regretted it when Johanna spoke.

“Who’s to say I didn’t? I did come here to talk to you, didn’t I?”

The witch nearly spilled her tea all over the tiles. When she stared at Johanna, finding her looking right back at her, the woman only smiled calmly, as if the implications of what she’d said weren’t more than enough to shake Kaisa to her core. Still tranquil, she glanced at the book which was sitting on the counter of Kaisa’s kitchenette.

“Is this the book you told me you were reading?” She asked as she lifted up Much Ado About Nothing for the librarian to see. “When we were talking earlier?”

Realizing she still had her cheeks pouched with tea, Kaisa forced herself to gulp it down and nod. “It is. I have already read most of his plays but not this one, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

“We still have some time here, don’t we?” Once more, Kaisa nodded, fearing she looked like a stupid string marionette. “Would you read it to me? I find drawing while listening to stories very cosy.”

“That’s-” Kaisa’s lips slowly bloomed into a smile. “A wonderful idea.”

While the librarian sat down on one of the two chairs of the break room’s table, Johanna produced a sketchbook and a pencil from her pocket. Too distracted finding the place she’d stopped, Kaisa failed to notice most of the doodles in the drawing pad were of her. To that day it had never failed to surprise Johanna that she really believed she went all the way to the library just to doodle in peace.

“Would you like me to begin again so you can keep up with it better?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Johanna was already planning what she would draw. She’d sketched Kaisa so many times, admiring her from afar as she sat in one of the library’s tables, but the evening’s event had made her more confident that her feelings weren’t one sided. Surely a drawing was a more straightforward gift than a batch of cookies, she thought. “Just pick up where you left, it’s perfect.”

After taking a deeper breath, the librarian began.

“I do not love nothing in the world so well as you - is that not strange?”

[illfoandillfie]

uhm if you still need and want a benny boi request: hiking with him and soft sex by the fireplace to warm up 🥺 or in the tent bc it's probably pretty cold ngl

(@queenmylovely​)

God you bitches get me. These prompts are wonderful and came in about 30 seconds apart lmao so i hope you like what I did with them!

warnings: smut but its like super somft and fluffy, also a lil bit of arguing

Blurb Advent: Day 16

The trip wasn’t exactly what you’d imagined it would be. Initially you’d been planning to get away during Summer, maybe head to the beach for a couple of weeks, spend your time relaxing in the sun, hitting the waves. But the timing never quite worked out and the whole idea of going away was put on hold until it had cooled down again. And of course, once it became clear the trip would be in winter, you had to stop thinking of the beach and find somewhere new to go. Luckily (you supposed) a family friend of Ben’s had a cabin in the woods that he was happy to let you use. You weren’t quite as thrilled with it as you would have been a little beach side cottage, but you really just wanted some time for you and Ben without other distractions and he wanted to get out of the city. And neither of you wanted to wait another six months for the break. So the arrangements were made and early on a Friday morning you grumbled your way out of bed and into the warmest clothes you owned, packing everything into the car, ready to head off on your holiday.

 The cabin was cute, surrounded by tall trees and the promise of picturesque views. A generator had been installed a few years previous to allow access to electricity and there was a large rain tank to collect water for all the plumbing systems. You had been warned that in dryer weather you may need to seek out the nearby well to collect water for drinking and cooking. There’d been a lot of rain in the previous month so you didn’t think you’d need to worry about it but, all the same, you kept it in mind, adding a few metal water bottles to your essential supplies (which included things like food, the makings of tea and coffee, toothpaste and condoms). On top of the essentials you also made sure to pack Ben’s guitar and your travel paint set in the hopes that the seclusion and nature would inspire you both.

 The first day was mostly spent getting there and unpacking. When you arrived, you had to carry all your gear up a short incline that the car couldn’t access but it was worth it when you saw the scene. It was gorgeous, the surrounding woods a little damp with fresh rainfall, the cabin looking cozy and warm and perfect for a romantic getaway. You spent the morning putting food in the fridge and poking around the cabin, getting the doors and windows open to let in some air and natural light. In the afternoon you checked out the store of firewood and decided to collect some more so that it would have time to dry out under cover before you needed it. Together, bundled up in warm coats and gloves, you walked around the immediate area, collecting any logs that looked large enough as well as smaller sticks for kindling. In the evening you made dinner together and settled in for a night on the couch, wrapped in as many blankets as you could get your hands on. Things had been so busy lately you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you were taking a break from it all. But the chaos you’d been living in had meant you didn’t get much of a chance to talk to Ben properly so that was what you did. Snuggled up on the couch and talked, finally able to just be together.

 The next day Ben suggested you check out the surrounding area, follow the hiking trail up the hill and see what was out there. There were practical reasons like finding the well just in case you did need it, but mostly it was just for fun. You each filled a backpack with a water bottle and some food as well as a grabbing a small first aid kit, some bug spray to combat the mosquitos you’d noticed the night before, and your paints. Ben slung his guitar over his back and you set off. The walk itself was fine though there were a few steep places on the trail. Ben used them as an excuse to hold your hand, getting a few steps higher and then offering his to help you follow. It was silly but cute and you found yourself giggling whenever he did it. It was quiet too, which was nice. You didn’t meet any other people on the trail but that meant you could stop and point out creatures that crossed your path or pause to take photos of interesting plants and pretty views you might like to paint later.

 At the top of the hill was a little lookout area with a park bench. Since you seemed to have it to yourself you unpacked your bags and ate lunch looking out over the tops of the trees below. As you ate you pulled out your sketchbook and started to draw things you could see, going over some with paints and leaving others as just the outline. Ben pulled out his guitar and found a small spot to lean against a tree and play softly, his eyes closed as he plucked at the strings. It was tranquil and peaceful and perfect. Or nearly perfect. You hadn’t noticed it as much while you were walking but now that you were standing still you realised just how freezing cold it was. For a while you tried to ignore it but eventually you had to speak up.

“Benny? Are you getting cold? My fingers are starting to freeze, maybe we should think about heading back?”

Ben dropped into the seat beside you and grabbed your hands in his, “I’ll warm them up for you.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled, not mentioning how unhelpful of a suggestion it was, “But I’m serious. The walk up here took a while anyway, might be best to start heading back down now, before it starts getting dark and even colder. Plus I don’t like the look of those clouds,” you pointed to a dark patch of sky off in the distance.

Ben eyed the rainclouds and thought for a moment, “Alright, you make a good point. Let’s pack up.”

 As quickly as you could you packed everything back into your bags and began to make your way back down the slope. Walking did help warm you up again though you couldn’t help but mention your need to defrost in front of the fire. And your discomfort only got worse as the rain began. The trees protected you a little but not enough and before long your teeth were chattering and your toes felt numb. Ben was just as unhappy, his hair dripping onto his face as he snapped at you to hurry up. He got particularly cranky when you paused to take a photo of the pretty haze the rain had thrown over one of the scenes you’d photographed on your way up, the roof of your cabin just visible through the trees.

“All your fucking complaining and now you want to stop to take pictures? Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for me you’d still be sitting up at the fucking lookout twiddling your thumbs.”

“You’re so fucking full of it. And slow! Could you walk a little faster please!” Ben tried to grab your hand and pull you along but you shook him off.

“It’s not my fault my feet feel like ice blocks. I didn’t even want to come out to this stupid cabin.”

“You’re the one who was practically begging for me to take you somewhere.”

“Yeah but not a fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere. This is the start of a horror film Ben. You brought me to a horror film.”

“Y’know this isn’t exactly what I wanted either. I was hoping for something a little more romantic, a little less bitching.”

“Well I think you’ve put paid to that.” You spat back, dropping your eyes to your feet so you could watch the terrain you were walking over, not wanting to slip in case Ben decided to walk ahead.

 You were surprised when Ben held his hand out to you, offering his help to get down a particularly uneven patch of the path, but you took it all the same.

“Sorry,” he said softly, keeping his hand tight around yours, “I know this isn’t ideal.”

“It was lovely up until the rain,” you shrugged, “Sorry I stopped before, and that I’ve been winging so much,”

“Hey, you’re allowed to winge, especially when your idiot boyfriend gets you stuck freezing to death in the middle of nowhere,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly, “but maybe he can make it up to you when you get back to the cabin?”

“How?”

“I’m thinking we get the fire going and sit as close to it as we can until we’re warm. I can make us some hot chocolate and then maybe we whip up a curry for dinner? Something really hot.”

You chucked and nodded, “Sounds good. Can I make one request?” “What is it?” “Can we cuddle? While we’re in front of the fire?”

“The cuddling was implied. It’s the most romantic thing I can think of so of course we’re cuddling.”

“You’re not an idiot Ben. And walking in the rain is kind of romantic, especially when there’s a fire to go back to.”

Ben pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it as you walked.

 By the time you got back to the cabin you were damp through, though your shoes felt completely soaked. Ben was true to his word though, peeling off his jacket and bending over the fireplace as he told you to go and get changed. You dug out clean, dry clothes, throwing Ben’s hoodie over the top. You grabbed all the blankets you could and came out to a fire coming to life as Ben hurried off to change. While he was gone you dropped the blankets on the floor, a little back from the fireplace, creating a sort of nest for the two of you.

“You stole my hoodie,” Ben pouted.

“Can’t blame me, it’s so warm and soft and I look cute in it,”

He chucked as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arms around you, “all of that is very true.”

For a while you just sat together, letting the feeling come back to your fingers and toes. Ben asked to see the photos you’d taken, pointing out scenery he thought would make nice artwork, and especially anything you could hang on the walls at home.

“I hope your sketchbook didn’t get too wet”

“I don’t think the rain got into the bags too much. What about your guitar?”

“It should be fine, it’s been in worse weather. Sorry I was short with you before,” he said quietly, his nose bumping your cheek.

You turned your head towards him, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too.”

He kissed you softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

You sighed against his lips and shifted to better face him, discouraging him from moving away.

 Ben kissed you slowly and deeply, as if he intended to just keep kissing you all night. But gradually his hands began to wander too, fingertips lightly tracing patterns over your sides as they slipped further down. You hummed at the touch, mirroring him, trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Slowly, he inched the hem of the hoodie higher until he could pull it over your head. You didn’t mind, plenty warm from the fire and Ben’s embrace.

“This okay?” Ben asked between small kisses along the corner of your mouth, his fingers already tugging at your shirt.

“Mmhmm, very,”

He nodded and lifted your shirt over your head, keeping his arms up so you could do the same to him.

He didn’t rush, leisurely following the line of your throat with his lips, humming in response to your whimpers and mewls. You were already wet when he wriggled his hand under the band of your leggings, exacerbating your arousal as he stroked along your slit.

 Once he had your pants off he rolled you onto your front, making sure you were comfortable amongst all the blankets, the heat of the fire washing over you. Gently, he hooking his fingers into the top of your underwear, pulling them down your legs, leaving soft kisses on your lower back and arse and thighs.

“Give me two seconds, babe,” he whispered, tugging his own pants off and leaning over to grab one of your backpacks.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at the noise.

“Might have thrown a couple of condoms in here, just in case.”

“In case? In case of what?”

“I don’t know. In case the view made you super horny or we wandered into a fairy ring and ended up kidnapped by pervert fairies. Just, y’know, in case.”

“You’re so stupid,” you laughed, tapping him with your foot as you lay down again, your arms folded under your head.

“I was just preparing for any eventuality.”

“Mmm well, you might want to hurry up and prepare or else I’m gonna fall asleep here. It’s very comfortable,”

“Don’t do that, hang on,” You heard Ben tear at the wrapper and then swear and then tear it again as you laughed into your arms.

“Alright, ready. You still awake,”

“Surprisingly, yes,”

“Good,” his voice was close to your ear as he lay over you, cocooning you in his warmth as he entered you from behind.

You moaned into your arm as he slowly rocked into you, his chest against your back as he braced himself on arms either side of you. There wasn’t much scope for anything fast or hard but it was intimate, his cock pressed against your g-spot so that every slight shift of his hips sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

Ben kissed your shoulder and left his lips there as he mumbled, “feel good?”

“Mmhmm, fucking incredible,”

“Mmm, you feel incredible too.”

You pushed your self up and looked around for Ben. Within seconds he was kissing you again, tongue dragging over your lips as another jolt shot though you and you gasped.

 For a while you stayed like that, your movements lazy and slow. But it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge, even with Ben groaning in your ear or sucking at your pulse point.

“I need more Ben,”

“Alright, babe, if I pull out are you good to roll over?”

You nodded, catching him in another kiss to show your appreciation.

Once you were on your back, leaning on your forearms, Ben adjusted his position, his legs falling between yours as he lined himself up once more. He wasn’t much deeper but the angle was different and you felt Ben hit a spot he hadn’t reached before as he leaned over you and attached his lips to your neck again.

“Fuck, Ben,” The fire was still burning, heating your opposite side as you threw your arm around Ben, digging your nails into his back as he gave an experimental thrust.

“This better?” “Yeah. You make me feel so good,”

Ben smiled and lay you back further, so he didn’t have to hold himself up with his arms, instead allowing him to slide one hand between you to softly play with your clit.

You grasped at his back as his hips snapped against yours harder, his fingers constantly rubbing at your clit.

“C’mon, babe, you’re close aren’t you.”

You nodded again, feeling as if you’d lost the ability to form words as your back arched. Everything was warm and comfortable – the fire and the blankets and Ben’s low voice, mumbling encouragement between kisses – and before you fully comprehended it was happening, your orgasm washed over you, pulling Ben’s name from your throat. He mirrored you a few seconds later, groaning your name as he stilled, his forehead falling to meet yours.

Carefully he rolled off you and you shuffled around to lean your head on his chest, still mostly tucked up in your blanket nest.

It was quiet for a moment as you both settled, your breathing falling into sync as you watched the fire and listened to the rain that had only gotten heavier while you were wrapped up in each other.

Suddenly Ben spoke, his tone more than a little braggy, “How’s that for romantic.”

[sylvanfreckles]

Eye of the Beholder

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Sam encourages Cas to try to express himself by taking up drawing. It seems to be a lost cause...until Castiel tries to draw Sam’s soul.

(Something warm and soft and hopeful after FebuWhump)

* * *

Sam leaned  against the low wall surrounding the picnic area park and let his head tip back to catch the warmth from the sun. They'd hit this town to check on rumors of a demonic possession at the local college, only to find Claire and Kaia had beat them here and pretty much had the whole thing taken care of. Now, he was enjoying just keeping an ear on the banter as Dean checked over the girls' gear and Jack chattered enthusiastically about the old fantasy novels he'd found on one of the rooms at the bunker (apparently Kaia had heard of the author and they were bonding, much to Claire's amusement).

A hint of movement at his side had him cracking one eye open to see Cas settle into a similar posture. Watching Dean and the kids with a fond look on his face, Cas caught Sam's eye with a smile. “He's good at that.”

“Dean's always been good with kids,” Sam agreed. “Probably because he still acts like he's twelve.”

Cas gave a very un-angelic snort, and Sam shifted around enough to watch the angel now. He couldn't remember when life had been this peaceful before. There were hunts still, sure, but it finally seemed like there wasn't some big bad pulling the strings behind it all. He couldn't remember a time in his life that had been like this—just the routine of the hunt and home, with their own network of friends and family.

It took him a moment to realize Cas's attention wasn't on the others anymore. The angel was looking out across the park at a mural painted on higher wall that ran around the park's perimeter. He was pretty it was a memorial to the town's history as part of the underground railroad, based on what he'd learned before they got here.

“I think the high school kids work on that every year,” Sam commented, nudging Cas with his shoulder. “When I was researching the town I found an article that said it was one of their graduating projects, and every year a group of students repairs and restores the mural.”

Cas shook his head and looked back at Sam. “Humanity's capacity for creation will always amaze me.”

Sam blinked. He hadn't...thought about it like that. Dean had always said Cas was just a weird little nerd, but was that why he always seemed to stop when he saw a statue, or a carving, or a painting? That it wasn't a type of art he preferred, but he was appreciating the human act of creating art?

“Have you ever tried?” Sam asked, trying to be casual about it. “Making something, I mean.”

The look Cas shot him was quick, but Sam thought his friend looked grieved. “Angels weren't made to create. We can only replicate.”

Sam started to protest, but hesitated. Zachariah's Beautiful Room...he'd offered Dean things from Dean's past, not some idealized thing he'd want. Gabriel had pulled from human television to make his TV world. Even Lucifer, in creating Jack, had used a human body to impregnate a human, not some celestial act of creation.

“Have you ever tried?” he repeated.

Cas pushed away from the wall. “There's enough in this world to admire,” he replied, though he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes and his shoulders remained tense. “You don't need my...'pitiful scratchings'.”

* * *

Cas's words twisted through Sam's head as he followed the others through the small downtown area back toward the hotel. Had Cas ever tried to make something around them? Had one of them said something like that? Or was this some distant event from heaven, some other angel stomping out any fraction of individuality?

He pulled up as they passed a small, disorganized craft store. “Hey, go ahead without me,” Sam called when Dean turned around. “We need a couple things.”

Sam waited until the others turned away, giving Jack a reassuring nod and smile, before pushing the door open and slipping inside the store. It was cramped inside, with shelves and bins overflowing, and the smell of cinnamon and beeswax filling the air. It wasn't completely a lie...they always needed things like natural pigments and scraps of leather for hex bags, and some places sold essential oils or crystals he liked to keep on hand for emergencies.

It just wasn't why he was here now. He squeezed past a rack of wooden beads and nearly knocked a dressmaker's mannequin over, but finally found the drawing section. The sketchbooks were easy enough to sort through—he grabbed a large one with a dark cover that had an elastic band to keep it closed when not in use. The pages were about the size of a standard sheet of printer paper, so it was big enough for Cas to have lots of room to experiment on each page but small enough to travel with him. The drawing supplies, though, were a little harder.

Sam stared at the selection of pencils, paints, and markers. If Cas had truly never tried something like this before, where could he even begin? Would he want something like colored pencils, that would have a smooth texture on the page but need to be kept sharpened? Or paints, which might be easier to blend and shade but wouldn't be portable? Or start with the very basics and get a box of crayons and hope Cas didn't think it was too childish?

A long, flat box at the end of the shelf caught his eye. Pastels. He had a flash of memory of one of Jess's friends in college who worked with pastels, the way their hands swept over the canvas to leave bright ribbons of color and then darted back to smooth and shade. Sam could suddenly imagine Cas, pastel stick in hand, a smear of pigment on his chin, brow furrowed in concentration as he filled a canvas with bright color.

He bought the sketchbook and pastels plus some silver charms to make a stronger protection hex bag for Claire's car, to make it seem like the drawing supplies had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. By the time he got back to the hotel Dean had already ordered pizza, while Kaia and Jack had Claire sandwiched between them on the couch as they tried to convince her to watch an old fantasy movie with them (Sam was on their side, Willow was awesome). Cas looked up from picking at the label on his beer bottle when Sam walked up to the table, eyes widening further in surprise when Sam set the bag from the craft store down in front of him and presented the drawing supplies with a flourish.

“I thought you might like to try,” Sam explained as he pulled out a chair and sat down next to Cas at the room's little table. “I mean, I'd kind of be interested in seeing an angel's...uh...'pitiful scratchings', you know?”

Cas hesitantly ran the tips of his fingers over the dark cover of the sketchbook. “Sam...”

“Just try?” he suggested. He scooted closer so that his shoulder brushed Cas's, knowing the physical contact helped when the angel was dealing with something new or difficult. “No one's gonna laugh if you can't do it. Well, maybe Dean, but he's an ass.”

“I heard that!” Dean shouted. As far as Sam could tell, his brother was completely focused on something on his phone. That was obviously just an automatic response.

The angel was quiet. Then, slowly, he tugged the pastels out of the bag and lifted the lid of the box. The colors almost seemed to glow under the room's overhead light, and Cas gently brushed the bright gold stick with the tip of one finger. “I'll try.”

“Good,” Sam bumped Cas's shoulder with his own, then leaned a little more closely against him, grounding him. “I can't wait.”

* * *

Sam bit his lip as he flipped through the first few pages of Cas's sketchbook. The angel leaned against the table almost despondently, arms folded across his chest and head tipped forward so that Sam couldn't see his eyes.

“These are good,” Sam said, trying to sound encouraging. “I mean, they look just like the, uh, things you were sketching. That's...that's good.”

Technically speaking, the sketches were good. There was a vase of wild flowers Kaia had put on the kitchen table the second day of her and Claire's visit. The bust of one of the old Men of Letters. Jack's profile as he read from a large leather-bound book. They were perfect and lifelike and exact, yet somehow...empty.

Cas took the sketchbook out of his hands and gently folded it closed. “Angels weren't given the breath of life,” he said, his voice quiet in the stillness of the library. “We can't...we can't create, Sam. All I can do is copy. These are copies of life.”

Sam winced. “Maybe you just need some practice. I mean, this is your first time, right? Nobody's perfect their first time.”

His friend's smile was sad when Cas finally looked up at him. “I feel no inspiration, Sam. I look at the world and nothing calls to me. The flowers and Jack...I chose those because I knew that was what a human might choose. I could have just as easily chosen the scalpels in the infirmary, or the backseat of the Impala, or every doorknob in the bunker. There's no...it's not creation, Sam. They're just copies of life.”

With a sigh, Sam ran one hand through his hair. “Cas, a lot of artists struggle with that. Maybe you just haven't found the right thing yet. With some more time I bet you could find the, the soul of a vase of flowers, or whatever.”

Cas grunted. “Flowers don't have a soul.”

“You know what I mean. Artists, they...they capture a part of themselves in the world around them. Their art reflects their own soul, you know?”

“I don't have a soul either, Sam.”

“You know what I mean.” Exasperated, Sam took a few steps away, then paced back again. “When you look at something that kind of pulls at your heart, you can make something that has a bit of your soul in it, you know? It's what humans have done for thousands of years, even longer.”

Cas let out a mournful sigh and rubbed one hand over his eyes. “If you could see your own soul you might understand,” he said wearily. “Compared to that even an angel's true form is inadequate.”

Sam huffed out a breath. He'd just wanted Cas to have a new experience, maybe find a hobby that could bring him joy. He hadn't meant to start some kind of identity crisis. Then his friend's words caught up to him. “Wait...Cas, are you saying you can see my soul?”

His friend gave him a flat look. “I am still an angel.”

“No, no, I mean...you can see my soul?”

“Of course, Sam.”

Heart pounding, Sam spread his arms out. “Then draw that!”

Cas stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Why would you want to see something like that?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to see it!” Sam turned in a full circle before grabbing one of the library chairs and dragging it in front of Cas. “Is this good? Or, wait, do you need better light?” His soul through the eyes of an angel...who wouldn't want to see that?

There was still hesitation in Cas's movements as he slowly picked up his sketchbook and lifted the cover off the box of pastels. “You're sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Cas flipped to a clean page and stared over the top of the sketchbook at Sam. Sam waited, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you need me to do something?” he asked, when Cas made no move to start drawing.

Cas frowned, then reached in the box for a pastel. “Just talk. About one of your passions.”

A passion...okay, Sam could do that. Like Dean had always said, he was a huge nerd. “Oh, I found that book about cuneiform we were talking about,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “You were right, the author was completely ignorant of the language schism toward the end of the Bronze Age....”

He talked on and on while Cas drew. The angel glanced up at him from time to time, a little smile brightening his face. It was almost exactly the image Sam had conjured in the craft store...Cas with a smear of pigment on his chin, bright colors filling the page in front of him. As he drew the angel seemed to relax, the perpetual slump of his shoulders easing back, the worry lines in his forehead smoothing out.

Sam could have pumped his fist in victory. He knew this had been a good idea.

Then Cas set the pastels down and hesitantly pulled the lid over the box. He seemed unsure of himself again, tipping the picture up to makes sure Sam couldn't see it.

“Is it done?” Sam asked. “Can I see?”

For a moment he was afraid Cas would refuse, then the angel slowly turned the sketchbook around.

Sam had seen human souls before...or at least he thought he had. They'd been wispy balls of bluish light, nothing too amazing. This was...this was something else.

The page was a riot of colors. Sweeping and dazzling, greens and blues with threads of red twisting through them, all turning back in on themselves over and over. There were jagged cracks in the swirling shapes, but they'd been filled in with a golden color so vivid he almost brushed his finger over the page to see if it felt warm.

“In some cultures,” Cas's voice was quiet as he explained, “when an item is broken they mend it with gold, so it is more beautiful and valuable because of the cracks.”

Sam drew in a breath. “This is how you see my soul?” The cracks...memories of Lucifer and the Cage, everything they'd lost, the darkness he'd hidden for so long...Cas saw them mended in gold?

“Oh, Sam,” Cas's hand was warm on his shoulder and he looked up, surprised to see tears in his friend's eyes. “This is you.”

He swallowed and looked back down. There was so much...so much hope. Despite it being almost incomprehensible swirls of color on paper, he could feel the hope and faith and trust nearly radiating off the page. Was this...was this really what Cas saw in him?

“Whoa, am I interrupting something?”

Sam pulled back, scrubbing a sleeve over his face. He hadn't even heard Dean coming. “We were just,” he tried to explain, gesturing at the page.

Dean was staring, tilting his head to one side. “Okay, man, call me crazy, but why does this look like Sammy?”

He let out a shaky laugh and ran his hands through his hair. “That's my soul, man.”

“You drew this, Cas?” Dean was leaning in even closer. “Ha, yeah, there's the little part that died when I told you Santa wasn't real. It really is your soul.”

Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother's antics and looked up to meet Cas's eyes. “Can I have this?”

“No way,” Dean interrupted, putting his hand on Cas's wrist.

“Dean, it's my soul.”

“Yeah. We're framing it,” Dean took a step back and held his hands up, like he was envisioning the drawing in a frame. “This is going next to the family pictures, Sammy.”

“We don't have family pictures, Dean.”

“We do now,” Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. “You should do Jack next. I'll get 'im.”

“Wait,” Sam lunged after his brother. “What about you?”

“Not happening,” Dean replied, easily twisting away from Sam's hand. “Let me go get the kid.”

* * *

Jack, predictably, was thrilled. He sat in front of his adopted father, eyes bright, as he talked about his first memories of Castiel. Sam stood behind Cas's shoulder and watched the picture take shape—all interlocking golden halos bursting out of a dark shadow, radiating a light that was somehow yellow and blue at the same time that banished that darkness away. It was peace. It was strength. It was family.

It was Jack.

Claire and Kaia were next, crowding together into one of the big armchairs with their fingers intertwined. Sam had been expecting some kind of double drawing, maybe two pages side-by-side, but the drawing Cas produced was somehow Claire, somehow Kaia, and somehow a blend of the two of them that went beyond anything the human eye could see.

“That's what it looks like to be soulmates,” Cas explained when Sam asked.

When they went back to Jody's house with the girls, Jody sat for a drawing. Her soul was all graceful arcs swooping around a central, solid core. Sam could almost feel it extending beyond the page, pulling them all together around the woman who had chosen to care for the motherless.

There were others, as hunters checked in at the bunker or they met them in the field. Eileen's soul was a fury of purple and silver, sharp with the kind of love that dove into battle with sword held high. Bobby's was a blend of muted shades that spoke to the loss the older hunter had experienced, and his determination to carry on.

Sam was dropping a new sketchbook in Cas's room one day, a few weeks later, when he spotted a few loose papers that had fallen out of the old one. Meaning just to pick them up and shuffle them back in, he was startled to find he had a picture of Dean's soul in his hands.

It couldn't be anything else. While Sam's had had cracks mended with brilliant gold, Dean's looked like it had been broken and pushed in on itself over and over, more like overlapping plates of ice from a lake that had been melted and refrozen. There were layers and sharp edges, and a few twisting shadows of darkness that lingered in odd corners.

But it was warm. Despite the cracks and the broken parts...despite the trauma and ache and pain it was good. It was the soul of a man who loved so completely he would—and had—lay down his life for his family.

He heard a shuffle from the doorway, and turned to see Cas was standing there, staring at the paper in his hands with something like guilt on his face. “Sam, I...”

“When did you draw this?” Sam asked in a whisper. “He kept saying he didn't want you to do it.”

Cas hesitated, then approached close enough to gently take the drawing from Sam's hands. “It was from memory. Dean and I have always had a connection, since I pulled him from Hell.”

Sam almost laughed. “A more profound bond?” he teased. Cas's lips twitched in a smile and he nodded. “We should hang it up with the others.”

Shaking his head, Cas frowned down at the drawing. “He keeps saying no one would want to see it.”

“Well, he's wrong,” Sam looped an arm around Cas's shoulders. “Come on, I know where he stashed the extra frames.”

[evostrashbin]

Any backstory or headcanons for your Kiran? It’s fun to hear the backstories of other summoners! Or if that’s too broad uh...why did she pick Grima? What do they have in common how did they learn to get along etc

Oho buckle up now this is about to get LONG since I had a few months to think about these kind of things 👀 (These are purely headcanons for my personal version of Kiran of course! Some of this might be a little dark so TW for abuse mention , please skip parts that make you feel uncomfortable! Also keep in mind I'm no native english speaker and haven't written anything long in ages )

Her backstory is nothing out of the ordinary, she's been summoned to Askr from our dimension & current time and was just a normal person before she became the summoner. She's pretty thrilled by her new role and takes her duty very serious (even if some of my art might suggest otherwise haha) and is absolutely fascinated by now being surrounded by magic, dragons and literal gods, things she normally only knew & loved from fairytales! Coming from an abusive family she not once looked back and never had the desire to return to her old realm and is happily living in Askr now. Her and Grima originally started out on a weird kind of fascination coming from both sides, with Kiran being completely unafraid of Grima the second she summoned him, he found that very odd since the usual reaction of people seeing him is fear, but Kiran was just... happy he showed up and not in a way of „Wow a powerful god I can use for his power“ but just genuine, foolish excitement. Considering he was the first evil dragon god she ever summoned she was just very intrigued by him, wanted to know more about him and why so many of other heroes were so afraid of him. So she made it her mission to get to know him a little better and make him feel welcome in his new home (But making sure to give him space if needed!). Grima was a little annoyed by that at first, asking her why she keeps pestering him but also just perplexed by her actively seeking out his company with seemingly no goal (at least none that made sense to him, why would anyone seek him out on their own if not to appease to him for his power to use it for their own selfish gain). Considering his distrust and straight up hatred towards humankind he's not exactly kind to her in the beginning since he suspects ulterior motives, but Kiran doesn't let that discourage her and she's not taking any of it. If anything it just makes her wonder why he despises humans so much (and yet has chosen a human vessel...) , why he's so full of hatred and since she's stubborn, she just keeps „pestering“ him. Though he would never admit it, he finds himself enjoying her company, this odd little human who doesn't fear him at all from a realm unlike anything he's ever known before and ends up slowly warming up to her (in his own way, means he's getting less insulting and starts having actual conversations with her, he finds himself very intrigued by the fact that neither dragons nor gods exist in her realm and so does magic and yet she's the one Breidablik has chosen to get that kind of power? Also Kiran has the patience of a saint even when Grima is testing that alot at times ) After a while they both start sharing bits of their pasts with each other (Imagine Grima still being kinda snarky, but in a less mean way haha. Also Grima being very much suprised at Kiran not abandoning him after learning about his past), and learn that they're not so different from each other in some ways, touching common ground in the experience of having had the ugliness of humanity having turned them repulsive and disappointed (Due to Kiran's almost life-long experience with physically and mentally abusive parents that were only interested in her as a resource, and not as a person and once she had no use or didn't obey their wishes, they just straight up told her everyone would be better off without her and that she should've never been born and essentially making her believe that everything wrong in the world is her fault & blaming her for it because she's just „ such a terrible child“ (just to keep it very short, we're not going to dive into the really ugly details) . They bond over having parental figures who treat their whole existance as a mistake as soon as they lost total control over it and people just constantly using them as a resource for their own gain. Basically trauma-bonding at its finest, both have seen and experienced some of the ugliest sides of humanity. This leads to Kiran now understanding where Grima's hatred comes from. (Though Grima genuinely asks himself how Kiran doesn't t hate all of humanity after her experiences...) With her newfound understanding she decides to show Grima that not all of humanity is ugly and selfish and cruel ( a lesson she had to learn herself for years and still sometimes struggles with, but she's determined to show Grima that there's people he can trust, even if it might just be her) and wants to give him a chance to start new in Askr and leave his past behind so even he might be able to find happiness. She's not striving to drastically change him though, she wants to help him cope with his experiences and give him a chance to live a somewhat normal life (as much as that's possible for someone as Grima) , following his longing to just be human. Grima in return might not openly show it, but he really appreciates her efforts in treating him with kindness and (mostly) like a normal person and not a lost cause beyond any redemption that's just 100% pure evil and never deserves anything good happening to them. So they slowly build a relationship on mutual trust, Kiran just likes him the way he is despite him not exactly being a good person (she's well aware he's flawed but so is she in the end and all the ‘ugly’ parts of him and his past are just a part of him)  .It's... new and not unpleasant to him, having someone who wants him around who isn't just blindly worshipping him or staying out of fear. It's just a whole new experience for him that comes with having to deal with a whole lot of unknown emotions over time ;) That's what it boils down to to keep it short! Do not let yourself get deceived though, the only person Grima is kinda soft with is Kiran and pretty much exclusively when it's just the two of them since Grima does not want to have other people see him kinda vulnerable or think of him as weak, He'll still threaten to kill other people while calling Kiran his worm (in a loving way haha). Kiran herself also isn't just endless patience and kindness, she also likes to mess around at times with Grima and has her own struggles and flaws, if she'd ever get a fallen alt it would probably be a duo unit of her and Grima where she gives up believing into there being some good in the world and turns her back to it with Grima, giving in to despair and seeking to just destroy everything with him when all the bad things get too overwhelming. oh also some random headcanons for Kiran! -She's prone to overworking herself since she takes her work very serious, fell asleep in the library and the castle gardens more than once due to exhaustion, got to a point where even Grima scolded her for it to take more care of her health. -She's nocturnal so you'll find her wandering around the castle at weird times, often makes for nice and silent meetings with Grima just to talk when nobody else is around since he doesn't sleep alot. -She enjoys drawing as a hobby in Askr and keeps a sketchbook which she uses to make sketches and sometimes even studies of all kinds of heroes she finds interesting! She once made a detailled study of Grima's dragon form and gifted it to him on the day of devotion c:

[one-boring-person]

Just A Babysitter. (Part Three)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: theft, some blood imagery, some mentioned drug use, fluff (some)

Context: This part revolves around Michael's first night with the boys, which (Y/n) partakes in.

A/N: I felt like I should post this to make up for the short one I posted earlier, so enjoy!

Part One, Part Two , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six , Part Seven , Part Eight

A strong reek of motor oil hangs over us as we linger on the Boardwalk, waiting for Star to finally rejoin us, the boys restless again, though each for different reasons. None of them have said more than a few words to me since last night, though one of the things they did tell me is that I have to stay with them all night, which annoys me to no end. The silent treatment is also a little tedious and frustrating, but at least it gives me time to think without being interrupted by Paul's constant jokes and pranks, or David's weighted questions, not to mention Marko's sweet yet sometimes irritating habit of making comments in my ear about random people passing by. Out of all of them, the only one acting vaguely normal to me is Dwayne, who treats me with the same quiet friendliness he treats nearly everyone in the group.

"Isn't that her?" Marko suddenly speaks up, pointing to a spot not too far from us.

Following his line of sight, I manage to spot the half-vampire weaving through the crowd with a familiar brunette on her tail: Michael. The boy seems to have bought himself a new leather jacket, probably to appeal more to his intended audience of one, Star, sauntering along behind her with some confidence as they converse together amicably, laughing with one another in response to some joke I can't hear, but the others can. David's jaw seems to clench a bit as he watches them, Paul and Marko smirking at each other as if they know something we don't, Dwayne leaning back a bit to whisper something to Laddie, who is perched on the back of his motorcycle once more. He rode with me on the way up, but quickly swapped when Star told him to do so, though he was clearly a little reluctant to do as he was told.

"Let's go." The blonde leader commands us, expecting us to follow him as he kicks his bike into gear, allowing Marko and Paul to take the lead, followed by Dwayne and then me, though it is obvious by the way he instantly moves his bike next to mine that I won't be a major part of this conversation. Loudly, we pull up in front of Michael as he goes to help Star onto his red motorcycle, the brunette's eyes widening at our sudden appearance, flicking his gaze between us until it lands on me. I smile in greeting, sitting back on my own Triumph as David makes a show of asserting his dominance, trying not to show how much it bothers me.

"Where you going, Star?" The vampire questions, tone neutral for now, though it will likely become harsher very soon.

"For a ride." She responds, trying to turn her back on us, as I have many times in the past.

"Let's go." Michael says to her, voice quieter than it was last night, though this is likely just because he wants to impress the girl trying to get on his motorbike with him.

Obviously, David can't let this slide.

"Star." This time, his voice is laced with authority and suggestion, his icy blue eyes watching her pointedly.

A low laugh emanates from the boys as the half-vampire gives in, climbing onto David's motorcycle with him, but not after making a show of dragging her hand over his chest with her eyes fixed on mine. Rolling my eyes, I zip up my jacket again, knowing that we'll be taking the wild ride home tonight, just to show off.

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the Point?" David inquires, raising an eyebrow at Michael as a downcast expression makes its way onto his face.

"I can't beat your bike." Michael confesses, hands tightening nervously around the handlebars.

"You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up." With that, he revs his engine and puts the motorcycle into drive, speeding off the Boardwalk and onto the beach with a startled cry from Star, followed swiftly by the others. I take off after them, leading the way for Michael to chase me, grunting when the impact with the beach winds me, reminding me that I need to get the suspension on my motorbike fixed. Behind me, I hear the tell tale sound of Michael hitting the sand, his bike quickly catching up to us as we hurtle over the beach towards the cave, Paul and Marko weaving in and out of my path as we continue on, exhilarated whoops leaving them as they ramp up the speed.

Despite the thrill, I ride the entire way with a grim expression on my face, knowing Michael is unlikely to survive the night without being encouraged to join the boys - and from the impression I get of him, I know he won't refuse their insistence. I briefly break the facade when Laddie calls to me under the peer, his voice high over the howling wind in my ears, reassuring him that I'm still here, as well as letting the others know I haven't run off from them again. A curse escapes me when I recognise the small ridge the boys enjoy springing off of looming up, my own bike often struggling to follow them over it. Determined not to be outdone by a newcomer, I put my foot on the gas and pop off the top of it, overtaking Paul and Dwayne with a loud roar of the engine, a dry smirk making its way onto my face when Paul protests loudly, revving his own engine so he can catch up again. As usual, this begins a small race between us, one which he will undoubtedly win, even though I try my best to out do him each time.

Sitting lower on the bike, I push the accelerator up again until it reaches its highest, a shriek of exhilaration finally leaving me at the pure speed that follows, the uneven ground beneath me causing the motorbike to leave the ground a few times. To my left, Paul calls out teasing encouragement, goading me on to push the limit again, though I can already see the edge of the cliff approaching, so to up the speed further would be suicide. He might be able to survive a trip off the edge, but I certainly won't, which is why I have to pull up short when I get in range of the precipice.

"One more win for me! What's the score now, like a hundred to zero?" The triumphant vampire floats as he stops closer to the edge, sending me a proud grin as I flip him off, breathless but smiling, too, my mood having brightened considerably.

"Shut up, Paul."

A laugh leaves us both before we're interrupted by Michael and David pulling up a little way away, the former skidding on his bike as he overshoots the turn, falling to the floor with a grunt. The latter smirks down at him, a chuckle threatening to escape his lips even as Star looks on with worry. Dismounting, the rest of us approach them, quickening our pace in alarm when Michael lunges for our leader, punching him straight across the face. Anger flares up in me at the newcomer's boldness, quickly joining in with the boys as they go to hold him back, only to stop when we see David's reaction, my eyebrow raising a little at the cunning smirk he is carrying.

"...just you!" I finally tune into what Michael is saying, rolling my eyes at his stupidity, hanging back behind the boys with Laddie as I try to stop myself from laughing.

"How far you willing to go, Michael?" David challenges the brunette, features sharpened in the harsh white light from the lighthouse just offshore.

Confused, Michael can only watch as we hide our bikes and make our way down onto the steps leading to the cave, following behind David as we enter the sunken hotel. Immediately, I head over to my usual spot in the corner: a dusty old armchair covered in my notebooks, comics and other useless trinkets I've picked up, or been given, over the years. Plonking myself down, I busy myself with one of the sketchbooks sitting on the arm, taking a pencil and starting a rough sketch of the hotel interior, one of many. Marko approaches me as David begins his spiel about the history of the hotel and that, a pigeon held gently in his hand, the other stroking it as carefully as possible, a small smile gracing his lips.

"What're you doing?" He asks me, leaning over me to see the page, chuckling a little when I lift it to my chest to hide it out of instinct.

"Drawing." I reply, the corners of my lips twitching up into a smile at Marko's eyeroll, sitting up to get a closer look at the pigeon, "May I?"

The young vampire's smile broadens and he nods, holding the pigeon out to me in offering, allowing me to run a finger over its soft head, the bird chirping as it wriggles a bit in his grip.

"Marko! Food!" David's voice suddenly interrupts us, drawing a small groan of irritation from the vampire in question.

"Want me to come with?" I offer, putting aside the sketchbook as I stand up, stumbling over a fallen comic.

"If you want to." He accepts, releasing the pigeon with a flurry of feathers as he and I climb back out of the cave and into the cooling night air.

"One bike, or two?" I muse, looking over at him in curiosity.

"Two, and we race there." Marko grins, heading over to the hiding spot where we keep them, wheeling his out and waiting for me to do the same.

"Oh, you're on. Where to?" I agree, swiftly accompanying him on the road and pulling on my gloves, shivering a little in the cool wind blowing up from the sea.

"The Chinese place." He decides, starting his engine.

"Sure. On the count of three?" I do the same, adjusting my grip on the handlebars as I prepare myself to race.

"Sure."

"One..." I begin, sitting lower in the seat.

"Two..." He continues, sending a smirk over at me as he revs the engine loudly.

"Thr-" I start to finish, only to catch a mouthful of dust as Marko takes off, drawing a protest from me. In seconds, I've recovered from the shock, thundering after him at the highest speed I'll risk this close to the edge of the cliff, quickly catching up to him with my minorly faster bike. On sand, the Triumph struggles to keep up with their lighter motorctcles, but on roads? Now that's a fight I can win.

Cries of excitement leave us, mingling with the growling of the engines, both of us yelling friendly insults at each other as we turn corners and weave in and out of the thin traffic, my motorbike quickly taking a good position a little way ahead of him. Pride in the vehicle fills me, though I don't let myself get arrogant, upping the speed once more in order to stay ahead, lowering myself in the seat to increase my aerodynamic stance, grinning deliriously to myself as the wind rushes through my hair and clothes, only adding to the exhilaration. Around me, the few other road users call out words of protest and anger at my reckless driving, one car even swerving completely to avoid me when I accidentally take up a place on the wrong side of the road. By the time the lights of Santa Carla come into view, my heartbeat is already at it's highest, tears forming in my eyes at the barrage of air attacking them.

Luckily, the Chinese is just outside the beach town, so there's no need for me to adjust my speed to a pedestrian friendly one when I approach the restaurant, the bike even skidding as I pull up in the parking lot outside, the brakes complaining at the sharp application even as a mother and daughter do the same, the former mentioning something about unruly teens before directing her ten year old away from me. I'm pleased to see that I'm the first here, glad that I've finally won a race against one of the boys after all these years of trying, a burst of pride and triumph filling me as I watch Marko enter the area a few minutes later, a large grin on his face.

"Damn, that bike is fast." The young vampire compliments, reaching out to clap me on the shoulder as he comes to a halt beside me. Climbing off, we make our way into the takeaway restaurant, Marko slinging his arm around my shoulders affectionately as we go, giving me a pointed look when a blush creeps onto my cheeks, his sweet scent clouding my nose briefly until we enter the restaurant itself, at which point all I can smell is food, which makes me hungry.

Going to the front, we order a few things, mostly rice and noodles, and wait for them to make it up. As we do so, I lean up to whisper in his ear.

"We paying for this one, or?"

"I don't know, should we?" Comes the reply, both of us exchanging a secretive glance, "How fast do you feel tonight?"

A mischievous grin makes its way onto my face at his words, my pulse instantly picking up at the idea.

"Very."

"Good." He responds, smirking at me.

For a couple more minutes, we wait for them to prepare the food, before going up to collect it with a neutral expression on our faces. I reach into my pocket for one of the fake notes we tend to carry around, just as a decoy, handing it to the poor worker with a polite smile, taking the food and leaving the restaurant with some speed. As we emerge, we break into a sprint, racing to our bikes and quickly starting them up as the owner bursts through the doors, screaming at us to stop. Giggling to ourselves, we speed off, the food secure on the back of our bikes, trying to get as far away from there as we can before the police are called on us, though it is very unlikely that they will catch us. Triumphant laughs and calls escape us as we hurtle down the road, keeping an eye on our tails to make sure we're not followed, and that the food is still there, making our way home with considerable speed, once again avoiding all the traffic possible. Dust flies up around us as we turn onto the smaller road leading up to the Bluff, a surprised yelp erupting from my lips when my motorbike skids on the dirt, nearly sending me flying over the handlebars, though I manage to hold on with as much strength as I can muster. Just ahead of me,  Marko looks back to see if I'm still in one piece, his momentary worry fading into amusement at the look on my face, my pulse having picked up considerably from my near-accident. As we approach the head of the cliff, his smirk still hasn't faded, it has only grown, finding it funny that the traction on the bike very nearly got me badly injured. Upon stopping, he starts his small comments, pestering me as we make our way back down into the cave.

"Feeding time! Come get it, boys." The vampire announces, chucking the boxes of takeaway at the others before handing me a pot of noodles, allowing me to retake my seat in the corner.

"Chinese. Good choice." David acknowledges, taking two from Marko and opening the first, offering it to Michael, who is sat across from his wheelchair. The brunette declines, to which David responds with his usual wit, "You don't like rice? Tell me, Michael, how can a billion Chinese people be wrong? Come on."

The others laugh at David's words as Michael grudgingly takes the pot, starting to eat as the rest of us do, looking up with confusion when David begins to play his first trick.

"How are those maggots?" He asks nonchalantly, looking inquiringly at his target. Instantly, I know he's decided to use his mind tricks.

When Michael fails to reply, David tries again.

"Maggots, Michael, you're eating maggots. How do they taste?"

At his words, Michael looks back down at his food, quickly throwing it on the floor and spitting the contents of his mouth at it, trying to clean it out. A laugh erupts from the coven of vampires at the brunette's expense, a dry smirk creeping onto my face at the confused expression on Michael's, Star scolding them a little.

"Sorry, no hard feelings, huh?" David apologises, picking at the pot of noodles in his own gloved hands, "You like noodles?"

"They're worms..." Michael states, rolling his eyes a little at the joke.

"What do you mean they're worms?" David says, shovelling a few noodles into his mouth in his usual messy fashion, returning his icy blue gaze back to Michael as he chews, "They're only noodles, Michael."

In disbelief, Michael snatches the pot away from him, picking some up with the chopsticks to inspect them, looking incredulous as they turn out to be inanimate, rather than alive. Another laugh escapes the group until Star butts in from her position a little way behind them.

"Leave him alone."

I try to fight the eyeroll that threatens to leave me, biting my lip when I see David call Marko over, whispering something in his ear. My eyes follow the young vampire as he goes to fetch the familiar jewelled bottle for his leader, handing it to him almost reverently. Having been given it, David opens it and takes a sip, shuddering at the metallic taste that accompanies it, before offering it to Michael.

"Drink, Michael, be one of us." The vampire encourages, smirking a bit at the brunette as he takes it, sniffing it. By now, Star has moved to stand behind him, looking nervous as hell, even though Michael's choice will not affect her in any way.

"You don't have to," She argues, speaking directly into his ear, "It's blood."

Michael scoffs, giving her a quick "Yeah, sure" as the boys start to chant his name, encouraging him to drink, whooping and cheering when he does, taking a long drag from the bottle before pulling away.

"BRAVO!" David calls out, ordering Marko to start pushing him around in the wheelchair as the others start to get excited, Paul swiftly lighting what is probably his fourth joint of the night to add to his buzzed state, Dwayne carrying a smile as he parades around with them. Sighing, I busy myself in my pot of food, picking up my sketchbook once more and carrying on with my previous drawing, knowing this will be a boy's night, preparing myself for yet more babysitting duties.

The hours drag on, the boys becoming more and more active as the night wears on, each of them drinking huge amounts of alcohol and smoking large amounts of cannabis and tobacco, ignoring the fact that Star and Laddie are trying to sleep in their beds. The former eventually manages this, but the latter struggles, coming over to me after around two hours to sit with me, watching the boys mess around, as well as me draw, holding himself close to me as if to keep himself safe - he might like the boys, but his trust in them is yet to become a steady thing. Somehow, he drifts off in my arms, causing me to stop sketching and hold him instead, rocking him a little to keep him asleep, which is where the boys find me when they finally decide to take the party elsewhere.

"We're going to the bridge, want to come?" Paul announces, shooting me a guilty look when I hush him, gesturing to the sleeping child in my arms.

"Sure, let me drop this one off in his bed first, then I'll be up." I agree, carefully standing and taking Laddie over to the cot the boys (I) prepared for him when they first came to us, tucking him in before stepping over to leave the cave, following the boys up and out.

As I emerge, I decide to myself that I don't want to ride by myself, so I go over to Paul with obvious intent, smiling thankfully at him when he lets me take a seat behind him. Doing so, I wrap my arms around his waist, holding on tightly when he and the rest of them take off, riding in formation with David at the front, though only after he gives me an odd look, most likely expecting me to ask him for a ride, even though he hasn't said more than two words to me all night.

The journey to the bridge isn't long, especially not at the speed the boys are going at, a small sense of regret welling up in me at Paul's particularly reckless driving, wishing I'd chosen someone safer instead. He seems happy enough that I chose him, though, so I sit tight and deal with it, wondering who'll take me home after this little show the boys have planned. As we approach, I'm quick to get off and pull off the gloves I forgot to remove earlier, wiping my sticky hands on my jeans so they won't slip off the bars of the bridge. As Paul dismounts, he throws himself onto my back, almost pushing me over with his sudden weight, a giggle escaping him as I grunt in surprise, my hands flying to grasp at the arms he has thrown around my neck.

"Jesus, Paul, you're heavy as hell!" I protest, wriggling out from underneath him as we step onto the train tracks running across the bridge.

"Hey, I'm not that weighty!" He laughs, quieting when Michael speaks up.

"What's going on?" He asks David, the platinum blonde throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Michael wants to know what's going on." The boys chuckle at his words, though I don't, still trying my best to brace my muscles in preparation for the hang that will soon follow, "Marko, what's going on?"

David's voice is laced with sarcasm and heavy emphasis, drawing yet another laugh from the group.

"I don't know, what's going on, Paul?" Marko replies, grinning behind Dwayne's shoulder at us.

"Who wants to know?" Paul inquires, laughing with us as I finally crack a smile, their teasing amusing to me as it always has been.

"Michael wants to know!" Marko confirms again, stepping up onto the edge of the bridge as we come to a halt in the centre.

"I think we should tell Michael what's going on." David says suggestively, giving Marko a pointed look.

With one last smirk, Marko steps off the edge, looking down as he goes.

"Bombs awayyyyyy..." His voice trails off as he drops, as if he's fallen to the bottom, though I know full well he hasn't.

Paul goes next, letting out one of his odd noises as he goes. Dwayne follows, and then David steps up as if he's forgotten I'm here.

"Come with us, Michael." He says before stepping off as well, the brunette turning to me with a worried expression. I can only shrug as I step up, dropping off the edge with a wry smile.

For a second, I feel weightless, before I feel an arm grab hold of me, pulling me against their chest. Instinctively, I wrap my own arms around their neck, looking up at them to find David smirking down at me. Thanking him, I allow him to use his superior strength to lift me up a little, letting me grab hold of an overhanging bar, only releasing me when I have a firm, comfortable grip on it. I laugh nervously as I start to swing with the others, trying to avoid Marko and Paul as they take part in their usual kicking antics, Dwayne grinning across at me widely.

"Michael Emerson! Come on down!" David taunts up at Michael as the brunette finally realises we're all safe (ish), blue eyes piercing into each other.

Finally, he decides to join us, the rest of us greeting him with cheer of our own, allowing ourselves to swing for a little while before I hear the tell tale sounds of a train approaching, and not a light one, either. Adjusting my grip on the cold bar, I try to roll my cramping muscles a bit in time for the heavy vehicle to pass overhead, the metal structure of the bridge shaking under its weight, our bodies vibrating with the shuddering surface above us. Around me, the boys - barring Michael - whoop and cry out in exhilaration, their muscles much more capable of holding on than our human ones, their words distorted under the hooting and chugging of the engine above us, though it is clear when David yells at Michael to hold on. A quiet voice in the back of my head wants to speak up and ask what else he's supposed to do, but I ignore it, instead focusing on the hanging vampires surrounding me, grinning when Paul decides he's going to be the first to go. I don't catch what he says as he allows his hand to slip from the bar, crying out in mock terror as the fog swallows his lanky body, Michael's eyes widening in panic as his newfound friend meets his apparent demise. Marko goes next, though once again, I don't quite hear him as he opens his mouth to speak, my concentration now turning to the aching in my arms, my muscles starting to shake violently as they struggle to hold my body weight up. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the icy air around us, my hands becoming clammy and slippery around the smooth bar in their grip, my palms sliding on the metal, dangerously. I don't notice Dwayne has dropped until he's gone, the dark haired vampire shooting me a reassuring look as he vanishes into the mist. On my other side, I hear David shouting at Michael again, his voice just audible over the pounding above us.

"Michael, you're one of us! Let go!" The vampire encourages, most likely giving the brunette one of his signature grins.

"And do what?!" Michael calls back, incredulously, terror evident in his eyes. At this point, the adrenaline in me at the thought of falling, voluntarily, has made my pulse spike, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I watch David let go, the black-clad vampire falling into the fog in silence, as usual.

"DAVID!" Michael screams after him, eyes wide and panic-stricken.

The train finally passes by, the new silence eerie until the familiar whoops and cries of the boys below us start to float up from the mist, once more reassuring me. Across from me, Michael tries one last time to pull himself up onto the bridge, before he looks at me.

"What do we do?" He questions, voice laced with fear.

"Let go." I confirm, giving him the most ressuring look I can, though I know it's still daunting to him, and me, even if I have done this many times before, "On three, ok?"

He nods, wincing as his muscles start to hurt him, just as mine are.

"One..." I start, eyeing him carefully, "Two..."

As I reach this, he let's out a groan of terror, fixing his eyes on me.

"Three..." I finish, allowing my hands to release their grip on the bar as I say this, the weightlessness of the freezing air around me only adding to the adrenaline racing through me, a giddy shriek of excitement ripping from my throat as we fall. Spreading my arms, I use them to slow the descent, knowing one of the boys will catch me, Michael unaware of this fact as he screams the whole way down, clearly not enjoying the experience at all. Eventually, they cut out; by which time I've stopped paying attention to him, relishing in the sensation of the wind howling around my body as it tumbles through it, the cold barely registering in my mind.

Just as I start to think the boys will let me fall to my death, I feel my body suddenly stop, a pair of strong arms halting me in my path, the impact drawing a grunt from me as the air is knocked from my lungs.

"Gotcha, Princess." Dwayne's familiar voice sounds in my ear as he pulls me into his chest, smiling gently down at me as the floating vampire notices my exhausted state.

"Thanks, Dwayne..." I murmur, trying to recover from the fall as best I can, a breathless laugh leaving me when he grins in response.

"Of course."

Panting a bit, I allow my head to fall into his chest, my arms looping around his neck so I can hold on with more safety, breathing in his familiar scent: motor oil, dust and cologne, the dark haired vampire often preferring not to reek of his meal's blood when around other people. Sighing, I let myself relax as I feel the air around me shift, signalling Dwayne's ascent to the bridge, my attention now fully on holding onto the tall vampire as I try my hardest not to give in to my sudden exhaustion. I barely notice as he takes me to his motorcycle, the boys all joking around us, David carrying Michael's limp body briefly before passing it on to Marko, who looks swamped by the taller boy's frame, the blonde rolling his eyes when his burden lets out a small groan in his blacked-out state, sweat still coating his pale brow. Gently, Dwayne props me up on his bike, climbing on in front of me and allowing me to wrap my arms around his waist, chuckling when I squeeze his muscular torso in thanks again. Energy dwindling, I feel my head fall forwards onto his shoulder, grunting when the motorcycle sparks into gear, the sudden noise jolting me briefly from my trance-like state, causing me to tighten my grip a little, hoping to secure myself better.

Dwayne drives slowly, Marko doing the same beside us as he provides a taxi service for the passed-out Michael, the two vampires conversing as they ride, voices only just audible to my human hearing, though I can barely make out what they're saying. My eyes remain fixed on the crimson tail lights of our companions a little way away, the bright dots bouncing and jolting as the corresponding bikes go over uneven parts of the ground below them, the two drivers calling out encouragement at each other, most likely racing one another. A smile forms on my lips at the sight of them, even if I can't technically see them, my former anger at them mostly forgotten for the minute; instead, I'm just happy to be with them, realising how grateful I am to them after all they've done for me. With this in mind, I decide to pay a visit to Santa Carla tomorrow night, whilst they're feeding, to think up some way to repay them.

Just as I figure this out, I feel Dwayne's motorcycle come to a halt, meaning we've reached home, a relieve sigh escaping me at the prospect of finally going to bed after this long night. As the engines cut out around me, I feel another pair of arms lift me up off the bike, cradling me against their chest as they start to move with me. A quick glance up confirms this person to be David, the blonde vampire catching my eye with a soft smile as he takes me down into the cave, the rest of the boys - except Marko, who has gone to drop off Michael and his motorcycle - trailing along behind him, both equally as glad as I am that their leader finally forgave me. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his jacket, enjoying the smell that lingers around him, even if it does have the same sour odour I've come to associate with blood, the fabric of the garment making a comfortable headrest for me.

Minutes later, the feeling of my jacket and boots being tugged off makes it's way known, before quickly being replaced with the relieving sensation of a bed below me. Cracking my eyes back open again, I notice the boys standing around me, an unsure look on Paul's face as he twitches, itching to join me, the other two giving me more intent stares. I lift my arms up, gesturing for them to join me in the large bed, even if it is only for an hour or so, sighing happily when they all slip in beside me, David swiftly pulling me to lay in the crook of his arm, my head on his chest, whilst Dwayne moves to my other side, resting his head on my shoulder contentedly. Paul, as always, takes up his place in between my legs, placing his head on my abdomen as his hands move to hold my hips, pulling them closer to him as he lets out a groan of appreciation. Hazily, I feel a blush start to creep into my face as David starts to caress my hair, Dwayne tracing his fingers up and down my side comfortingly as Paul continues to rub circles into the skin of my hips, the attention from them all making me rethink my former inhibitions.

I fall asleep to the reassuring motions of the boys' affection, feeling as safe as I've ever been.

Part Four

[mistaeq]

I'd like to request a part 6 matchup then please 👀 I'm a scorpio, INFP, bisexual, usually quiet, bizarre gen z sense of humor, big savior complex haha oops, I struggle with depression and I love drawing, listening to music and writing ofc. I get anxious in big crowds so I tend to avoid them, or if I can't avoid them then I just hide behind the person I trust. Thx bby ❤️

Matchup

TW // depression is mentioned

Thank you for your request, Memory !! Hope you will enjoy this. Finally back with matchups ~♡

Stone Ocean Matchup

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

My first matchup choice for you is...

Narciso Anasui!

When you first met, in Emporio's hidden room, Anasui asked himself how could such a quiet person like you be in jail. He genuinely couldn't get it. Narciso doesn't like too talkative people, since he moves, acts and listens to others for his own interests only. But your behavior really caught his attention. Someway maybe more than Kujo Jolyne did.

Since the first time he met anyone, that person would ask questions about his life, his mistakes, about the crime he had committed to be there. And he just didn't like it. That is why, the man had asked Emporio - or Weather Report - to be the one to inform people about his past before people asked him directly. But everyone always ended up asking him for more details. How annoying. You didn't, by the way.

Much to his surprise, though, you know how to me loud and chaotic too, above all when you and Foo Fighters laugh together over memes. He took a look at those too, just for the sake of knowing what you like. Might it be just because he knew that you were the one liking them, even if those memes were not his thing, he'll admit he's let out a couple giggles, looking through those along with you and F.F.

After he got to know you, it looked like Jolyne had completely slipped and gone away from his mind. Much to her happiness, to be honest. Narciso's undesired avances were on the verge of making her go completely feral. "It looks like it's your time to get his marriage proposals, Memory..." Kujo chirped, laughing at your shocked expression when she talked about marriage proposals.

Did you say savior complex? Narciso definitely cherishes this side of you. He's in love with the way you're always in the first row, when it comes to helping someone who needs your help. He even got the occasion to save you as well, when you happened to put yourself in trouble because of your will to absolutely help someone.

This exaggerated - but not negative at all - obsession about you made him wanna start to get all worried about everyone as well. Emporio always told you, Anasui never helped anyone, unless it regarded him or was for his own profit. You told him not to force himself over a behavior which didn't belong to him, since just like you do, he might have ended up in plenty of troubles. But he just wanted to conquer your heart.

Nobody would have dared to bet a single coin on it, but Narciso Anasui is an actual cheesy man, when he's infatuated for someone, who happens to be you. He won't even let depression get to you, the pink haired man is so ready to fight against it for you. In every hobby and passion of yours, you'll find him supporting you and complimenting your job.

This guy fucking loves reading. Please, don't be afraid to ask suggestions or opinions to him, when you're writing something and need someone to read it to comment it and maybe give you some tips. He didn't have many hobbies or things to do in prison, so he used to stick to reading books and letting his fantasy fly outside of the GD St. Jail. Plus we all know one if his all time favourite characters is Mickey... he's a hidden child.

He's never gonna bring you into crowded places, and even if he doesn't judge a place as "crowded", he's gonna ask you first anyway. The last thing Narciso wants is making you feel bad for a decision of his. He wouldn't forgive himself for such a thing. The man learnt to pay attention to your expressions of discomfort, and knows when he has to help you.

He doesn't like it, when he has to do it, because it means you're not feeling well, but he won't hide he feels pretty lucky, when you hide behind him, since it means that you really trust him. Don't tell anyone, but Jolyne and Foo Fighter overheard him bragging about this to an annoyed Weather Report, who just wanted to sleep and had to listen to Anasui's half-an-hour-long essay about you, instead.

My second matchup choice for you is...

Hermés Costello!

Hermés has been having a crush on you, a pretty strong one, for a good amount of time by now, but the thought of you probably not liking girls was haunting her, and she had no idea of what to do to not to make it awkward. She looked for Jolyne, to ask her for an opinion... and overheard you right in the act of revealing your bisexuality to your best friend. Lucky! She started to hang around you more, after that day.

The truth is, that Costello usually laughs over the bizarre gen Z type of memes, but just doesn't want to admit it. She's naturally calmer than you, or for example Foo Fighters, so she thinks that laughing over those might make her menacing woman façade disappear. She doesn't know whether it might be easier to conquer you by being serious and mysterious or by laughing with you.

When she finally chose to confess, she did it in the most cliché way ever. She just didn't know how to do it. She left a note with a confession in your prison cell, and waited for a reaction from you. If it was positive, then, good for her, she would have been able to love you. If it was negative, she would have made up an excuse to make you believe the note was just one of Jojo and F.F.'s pranks. Luckily, you accepted.

Good thing you have such a savior complex, because Hermés tends to constantly put herself in an ocean of troubles, and will definitely need someone to save her everytime, along with Jolyne and Foo Fighters. If it wasn't for you questioning where she is everytime, she probably would have died after not even a week. But luckily, she has such a good girlfriend thinking about her when she needs it.

Depression? Say no more. Your girlfriend will never leave your side on days when you feel it kicking in more than usual. It's true, you can't do much in prison, but the woman keeps on promising you that once you'll be out of there, she'll bring you to lots of new places to explore, wherever you'd like, to take care of your sadness and bad feelings. Damn, finding love in prison is wild.

She sometimes uses Kiss to duplicate herself and be able to take care of you, above all when you're feeling down and needs something to cheer you up. Two Hermés aren't just perfect for cuddling, but also to have fun, since it's comic to see her twice. Though, you tend to ask her to not to do it often, since going back to a single one after Kiss's effect ends, is sometimes painful for Hermés and you're aware of it.

"Yo, Memory... is that possibly... me?" Costello asked, staring at the drawing you were working on, sitting in your prison cell, the sketchbook on your thighs. You nodded, smiling. You enjoyed sketching her, she was like art to you, and couldn't help loving her body and facial featured. "This is fucking amazing. For real Memory." she sat next to you, and kept on staring at your drawing. "Am I that beautiful in your eyes?"

Oh god. Jolyne and Foo Fighters mock the two of you so much because of your habits. Hermés and you often happen to fall asleep, your head on her shoulder and her head on yours, while you're sharing earphones and listen to your favourite music. Such things aren't really appreciated in the middle of the girls in your prison section, so Emporio allows you and your girlfriend to rest in his hidden room.

Hermés doesn't mind big crowds, but she can't say she enjoys them. She'd rather be in peace, or at least with a bunch of people she enjoys staying with, like you, Jolyne and Foo Fighters. The four of you are like a squad, and perfectly know that they have to keep you away from big crowds. Your girlfriend usually take care of it, but if she's not around, Jojo and F.F. do it for her.

Even without you asking for it, if you can't avoid the crowd, Costello will grab your hand, to make sure you don't get lost or panic because of all the people, and pull you through the confusion of the noisy voices, to a place where the two - or four, depends on whether your friends are there too - of you can spend some quality time without having to worry about protecting you from crowds.