#it’s so sweet and so cool that so much creativity runs in their family

[mandalhoerian]

forced proximity | baking | wild west au ❅ Leon Secret Santa ( @leonsecretsanta ) ❅ gift for @bonesnplywood !!

summary: When a wagon mishap in the middle of a snowstorm leaves the new sheriff Leon Kennedy stranded at the local bakery, he’s reluctantly pulled into a lighthearted afternoon of decorating gingerbread cookies with the town’s spirited baker, you.

word count: close to 5K, read on ao3

note: AMBER ITS ME!! YOUR SECRET SANTA!!! THE WORST PERSON THESE TROPES COULD POSSIBLY FALL INTO THE LAP OF!!!! I've never in my life joined an event like this or written about christmas (jingle halal everyone), and i was doomed from the start because wild west is something i know absolutely nothing about 😞 so i had to make insane research on the topic for this, and i mean, "insane" research <2 me>, because i've had to look up things such as sugar, icing (did it exist? what about hot chocolate. plot twist, IT DOES), what they baked, how non-commercialized christmas was like back then, and overall about frontier towns, and i swear i was on the verge of tears about to drop out THIS 👌 CLOSE 😭😭😭 I hope I was at least able to catch the vibes and it's enjoyable, please excuse any mistakes or weird stuff overall that doesn't fit, i tried.... merry christmas!

Christmas around these parts was a quiet affair, mostly celebrated by children and the devout few who filled the pews of the old church on the hill. There were no garlands or ribbons strung up, no carolers wandering door to door. Folks didn’t have the time or money for all that fuss.

Instead, Christmas was something simpler. Something humbler. A rare pie cooling on a windowsill, the smell of woodsmoke mingling with fresh bread if a family could spare the flour and sugar, stockings, little more than patched-up socks, hung over fireplaces with faint hope... Sometimes, if the weather allowed, neighbors gathered for a pot of stew or shared biscuits, squeezing together at too-small tables and swapping stories to warm the room better than the fire ever could.

And yet, you, neither a dutiful churchgoer nor a small child any longer, cared more about this holiday than most. Actually, scratch that. “Cared” didn’t begin to cover it.

You lived for Christmas.

Always had. Ever since you were small, the holidays had lit something in you. All of them mattered, but Christmas? That was special. It wasn’t just the crisp air or the smell of pine needles in the bakery where you grew up. It was the whole season, the way December turned the world into something softer, kinder. Your father had seen to that.

Every year, he’d throw open the bakery doors to the orphanage down the lane, baking for the children who had no family to celebrate with. The evenings were loud with laughter, warm with the smell of bread and cakes, and rich with your father’s tall tales spun at the dinner table. He’d send those kids home with free loaves to last them through the winter, and no matter how much the townspeople complained about the expense, they’d show up to help--eventually. Even the grumps couldn’t resist the sight of those kids, faces bright with joy, or the way the bakery felt like the heart of the town in those fleeting weeks.

Of course, none of that magic happened on its own. The ingredients alone were a fortune, especially now, and it had taken some creative wheeling and dealing to keep things running smoothly. Mayor Irons had been easy enough to bribe, an extra haul of your famous sweets for his office, a special stash of sugar sticks just for him. The old sleazeball had learned long ago not to ask questions, especially when the end-of-month "bonus" arrived. It was a necessary evil, one you barely had to think about anymore.

This year, though, was different. The snowstorm had rolled in fast, blanketing the town in thick, sparkling drifts that clung to rooftops and piled high in the streets. It was beautiful in the way all fresh snow is, softening the edges of a hard world. But this wasn’t the gentle, picturesque snowfall from a child's drawing. This storm had teeth. Roads were already impassable, and while the bakery’s ovens burned bright and warm, you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if the storm kept on. Business had slowed to a crawl, but you weren’t about to close the shop, not with so much left to do before the Christmas festival. The Mayor needed his payment. 

Your gaze drifted to the empty shelf behind the counter where sacks of flour and sugar were meant to sit. Supplies that should have arrived hours ago. Supplies you needed for the dozens of gingerbread cookies and other desserts.

Your father had thrown in the towel hours back, muttering that it was pointless to keep the place open when there was nothing left to sell. You, stubborn as always, refused to leave. The wagon train will come, you’d insisted. You weren’t about to trek home in this snowstorm, anyway, and someone needed to mind the fire. But as the wind howled against the windows and the blizzard thickened to a near whiteout, you were beginning to think your father might’ve had a point.

Then, the bell above the door jingled.

You jolted, spinning around.

"Finally," you muttered, brushing flour-dusted hands on your apron as you turned. "Come on in! You're lettin—"

The words caught in your throat.

It wasn’t the deliveryman standing there, but the sheriff—Leon Kennedy—silhouetted in the doorway like a figure out of legend. His wide-brimmed hat, damp and battered, was barely clinging to his head thanks to the string knotted beneath his chin. On his shoulders, six sacks of supplies were stacked so high it made him look almost absurd in the middle of your little bakery. Snow clung to his coat like he’d wrestled a blizzard and won, but that didn’t stop him from nudging the door shut with the heel of his boot and stepping further inside. The quiet thud of those sacks hitting the wooden floor sent a plume of cold air swirling around the room.

You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Sheriff?”

Leon straightened, dusting snow from his coat with broad, deliberate swipes. “Sorry I’m late.” He nodded to the sacks, as though hauling half a wagon’s worth of supplies on his back through a blizzard was the most normal thing in the world.

“Where’s the wagon?” you managed, trying to peer through the frosted window before turning back to him.

“Broke down a mile back,” he said, his voice roughened by the cold. “Axle snapped.”

Your stomach dropped. “A mile? In this weather?”

“Figured I’d at least bring what I could carry.” He kicked the snow from his boots, each thud matching the quickening of your heartbeat. “Rest will have to wait.”

You stared at him, then the sacks of flour and sugar piled on the floor. He’d walked through a goddamn blizzard. A mile, uphill, no less—you didn’t even need to ask to know that was the case. You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a breath of air. Finally, you croaked, “I… Thank you.”

Leon just nodded, like gratitude was something he shrugged off the same way he shook snow from his coat. “What needs doin’?” he asked, glancing toward the empty shelves. “Looks like you’re behind.”

You’d just watched the man shoulder a blizzard and a mile of snowbanks, and now he wanted to help you restock?

Your gaze flickered to him—to his reddened cheeks and the tips of his nose, glowing like embers from the cold. The dark leather of his duster was soaked through, clinging to him like a second skin, and the snow gathered on the brim of his hat had begun to melt and drip onto the floorboards.

“Hold on a second,” you said, recovering your wits as you marched around the counter. “You’re half-frozen, Sheriff. Give me that coat before you catch your death.”

Leon’s brow quirked faintly, his lips twitching into something close to a smile. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” You grabbed the hem of his coat, already tugging it off his shoulders before he could protest. The leather was heavier than it looked, soaked through and frigid to the touch. Jesus.

Leon let out a small, huffed laugh, raising his arms in surrender as you worked the coat free. Cedar, you thought absently, catching the scent that clung to him, warm and woodsy even beneath the chill.

“Sit down and warm up,” you ordered, pointing toward the small table near the fire. “You're not going anywhere in this weather.”

“And the shelves?” he asked, ever the dutiful sheriff.

“None of your damn business. You just carried half the territory’s worth of flour through a blizzard—I’d say you’ve earned five minutes.”

Leon’s smile turned genuine then, soft around the edges, and for the first time since he’d walked in, you saw the faintest hint of color return to his face. He nodded, boots thudding against the floor as he made his way to the chair.

As you turned back toward the sacks of supplies, already mentally calculating how much work lay ahead, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Leon was sitting by the fire now, elbows resting on his knees, hat in one hand and gloves dangling from the other, his gaze distant as he watched the flames. He looked tired. More tired than any man who’d just hauled a mile of flour and sugar should look, but there was something steady in the way he sat there, unshakable, like no storm could ever touch him.

You exhaled softly, shaking your head as you rolled up your sleeves. Christmas was comin’ whether the snow liked it or not.

You busied yourself at the counter, half-focused on the dough you were rolling out and half on the quiet presence of the man. After a while, the silence stretched like the dough underneath your hands, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft thud of your movements against your work surface.

He wasn't very talkative in the first place, you knew as much, thinking that perhaps you could have accomodated him better instead of throwing yourself immediately into work the moment you'd gotten what you'd been waiting for the whole morning. The awkwardness that stifled the bakery was bothersome enough that you chanced another glance at Leon, and caught him watching you, eyes briefly darting to the counter before returning to the oven. 

“You decorating all those yourself?” he asked finally, nodding toward the trays of fresh-out-the-oven, undecorated gingerbread men to the side that were cooling off.

You blinked, pausing mid-roll. “I was planning to, yeah.”

He stood, rolling his shoulders as if testing how much energy he had left after the trek. “You’ve got a lot of work left. Might as well make myself useful.”

Your brows rose in mild surprise, but you quickly recovered. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

“Storm’s not letting up anytime soon,” he said simply, moving closer to the counter. “Might as well pass the time doing something.”

He put as much intensity into the staring match that followed as he would into a gunfight. It was inevitable that you'd lose. 

Finally, you reluctantly handed him an icing bag, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Alright, Sheriff. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Leon took the bag, turning it over in his hands like it was a tool he needed to get a feel for. “Fair warning,” he said, “I’m better with a six-shooter than whatever this is.”

“It’s just icing. Start slow and gentle. No sharpshooting required.”

“Good,” he replied dryly. “Would hate to accidentally take out a gingerbread man.”

Was that... a joke? Did he just make a joke? 

You stepped closer to him, catching the way his hands dwarfed the small icing tube as he held it. His brow furrowed in concentration, the usual stoic expression on his face betraying just a smidge of uncertainty. There was something endearing about seeing him like this, someone so strong and sure reduced to puzzling over frosting.

“Here,” you said softly, placing your hands over his fingers, which twitched beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stilled, letting you guide him. The warmth of his skin seeped into your palms, and you found yourself acutely aware of how close the two of you were.

“Hold it steady,” you murmured, your voice dipping low and deliberate, as if sharing a secret. “The trick is even pressure. Like this.”

You shifted your grip slightly, your thumbs brushing against his knuckles with a deliberate slowness. His hands, so large and steady, seemed to falter beneath your touch, the tiniest twitch betraying his awkwardness. You caught the faint hitch in his breath and felt the way his shoulders stiffened, as though unsure whether to lean into your guidance or escape it entirely, yet together with you, he squeezed the tube gently, a neat line of icing trailing onto the cookie below. He wasn’t focused on the cookie, though—not really. The way his hands followed your movements made it clear he was hyper-aware of the closeness, unsure but not resisting. Feeling the heat rise to your face, you quickly changed tack, pulling your hands away with a light laugh.

"You’ve got it from here," you said, stepping back slightly and gesturing to the cookie in front of him, your tone bright and easy.

Leon exhaled slowly, his breath brushing the side of your face. “Guess I was pressing too hard.”

“Most people do,” you replied, glancing up at him briefly. His focus was in front of him, but his jaw was tight. You could feel the tension in his shoulders despite him admitting what he'd been doing wrong. “Relax your grip a little.”

You adjusted his hold, guiding his hand through another clean line of icing, your bodies aligned as if the two of you had done this a hundred times before. When you finally released his hands, the absence of contact felt oddly stark... Thanks to the cold weather, no doubt. 

“Think you’ve got it now?” you asked, stepping back slightly, though your heartbeat had yet to slow.

“Think I’ll need a little more practice.”

That sounded suave at the time, but he was right, in the end. Leon’s first attempt at decorating was, to put it kindly, a disaster.

The icing tube seemed to have a mind of its own, spilling a shaky, jagged line across the gingerbread man’s torso. His frown was growing deeper by each passing minute, and he was constantly adjusting his grip, but it only got worse. By the time he set the tube down, the poor cookie looked more like a battlefield casualty than a festive treat.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter. It bubbled up, light and genuine, as you reached over to inspect his handiwork. “Well,” you said, biting back a grin, “it’s… unique.”

“It’s terrible,” Leon muttered, a touch of color rising in his cheeks as he glanced at your much neater designs. “Maybe I should stick to chasing outlaws.”

“Aw, come on,” you teased, nudging his arm. “You’re just gettin' started. Besides, this is supposed to be fun, not perfect.”

He gave a skeptical huff but picked up the tube again, determined to try. How earnest. You leaned closer, pointing out how to apply even pressure, your hands brushing his as you demonstrated even though you didn't really need to do all of that. Something about enjoying a skilled grown man being awkward about something you were good at and wanting to enjoy moments of making him fumble. 

“There you go,” you encouraged as his next attempt turned out… well, marginally better. “See? Not bad for a first-timer.”

"I feel bad for whoever this will be eaten by," he muttered, referring to the misshapen abomination in his hand that could hardly qualify as a 'person.'

"It's the Mayor," you blurted out without thinking, causing a choked laugh escape past his lips, surprise lighting up his handsome features.

"Really?"

"Yep," you grinned, winking conspiratorially at him. "You're helping me bribe the man to invest more on Christmas. Gotta throw in some of your... specialties in there for good luck."

"You're trying to get me fired," he deadpanned, as dry as the wood stacked by the hearth. "And blacklisted."

A loud laugh tore itself out of your throat, warm and melodious in nature. He looked oddly pleased at having brought it out of you, the corners of his lips twitching up minutely before returning to its neutral position. God, how cute! You wondered what other expressions you could draw out of him if you tried. It wasn't fair how handsome he was when he smiled like that, a real smile, with actual emotion. That tiny change softened the harsh line of his mouth and eased the shadow of exhaustion from his face, making him look like a completely different person, like another version of himself who existed behind closed doors. The image stayed burned into your mind's retina as you resumed decorating the cookies with your nimble fingers, sneaking glances every so often, studying him from beneath your lashes.

You wanted to know more about this man. In a way, this snowstorm had been a good thing. 

“So,” you started, reaching for another cookie to decorate, “what made you take the sheriff’s job? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t strike me as the type who’d want to babysit a town like this.”

Leon glanced at you, his hand pausing mid-squeeze. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, ya know.” You gestured vaguely at him, smirking. “That look. Like you’ve seen too much of the world already and don’t trust any of it.”

He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You’re not wrong.” For a moment, he focused on his cookie again, the silence stretching between you both. Then, quietly, he added, “I figured it was time to slow down. Maybe try something simpler.”

You arched a brow. “Simpler? Sheriff in a town like this? You must not have heard about all the trouble this place sees.”

“I’ve heard,” he said, glancing your way with the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Still beats the alternative.”

The weight in his voice gave you pause. You didn’t press, sensing there were things he wasn’t ready to share, and not your place to know in the first place. Instead, you held up one of your finished cookies. “Well, here’s to slowing down. Even if it means spending your days wrestling with icing.”

“I’ll take it over the wrestling I’m used to,” he said, his lips twitching into a soft smile as he picked up another cookie. "Already like this better. It's nice working with someone like this. Having a calm evening instead of the usual shit I'm doing. Christmas cookie decorating. Who'd've thought, right?"

"That sounds lonely, Sheriff."

A strange, distant look crossed over his face momentarily, something melancholic and longing flitting across his face before it vanished again under the cool mask you were familiar with.

He let out a small, sad sigh. "...Yeah. S'pose it is."

"You know... Christmas is all about coming together. Starting fresh. And sometimes taking a little break from reality to enjoy yourself," you added thoughtfully, trying not to be too on the nose about what you were trying to convey. "We all need a little grace. Especially around this time of year."

He snorted softly at that, amused.

Your hand moved quicker than your mind could react, bringing the piping tip dangerously close to his mouth. "Care to repeat that?"

Leon blinked, momentarily stunned. "Christmas suits you," he repeated, more brazenly this time, daring you to follow through with the implicit threat. "All warm and welcoming." He leaned forward, almost challenging in nature. "Like this bakery of yours."

"Oh, well—" your ears burned hotter at the implications. If anyone saw you like this now, you would've been done for.

You cleared your throat, attempting to keep yourself composed even as Leon's stare bore a hole through your skull. The damn man was just teasing you, looking smug as fuck for figuring out how to make you flustered for once.

"You better watch your pretty mouth, or else I'll decorate it shut instead."

Leon threw you his most innocent, butter-wouldn't-melt smile, and oh—was he laying it on thick just to rile you up. He seemed to have recovered from earlier, all broody and cold-shouldered as he usually was. This new, playful side of him was going to kill you before the day was over, you were absolutely certain of it.

"Maybe next time," he said simply with a nonchalant shrug. 

The man had some nerve. Just the mere implication made your head spin. Did he mean it? Was he flirting? What did that mean for him? For you? You thought back to the few times you'd seen him around town—the polite smiles and nods exchanged at a distance; the brief conversation when your order went missing; the sudden appearance this afternoon that saved your day—and wondered why things were so easy between you despite how limited the interactions. Maybe because you knew each other well enough in name only, without the addition of many personal details beyond those spoken on a passing basis. Or maybe there was something deeper and unspoken that existed between you two ever since that first interaction at the saloon several weeks ago. Maybe you weren't imagining the subtle, shy looks, the hidden smiles, the way he tended to linger by the doorway to watch you work long after he ran out of excuses to be there anymore.

You shook away such thoughts and returned to decorating, not sure what to say in response.

"...Do you ever get the temptation to have any while you do this?" He asked all of a sudden, changing the topic abruptly. "Or wait til the last batch gets done and then have them?"

"These are for Christmas!"

"They are for the Mayor."

You couldn't help but giggle, especially since he said that like someone else would talk about some slimy thing on the bottom of their shoe. "For Christmas's sake."

"Would you eat one? Any of these ones I did?" There was something almost like playful disappointment there, in his tone. "I think we need to do some... quality testing before deciding to send them off to my employer and risk my job while we're at it."

There were very few times Leon Kennedy was described as an optimist, even fewer times he could be considered amusing (the townsfolk seemed convinced he wasn't capable of joy), but hearing him make a joke regarding his 'employer' with you made something flip inside your tummy. It didn't take long for you to cave, popping the partially iced gingerbread man into your mouth.

And that's how both of you ended up sitting down and devouring the whole batch, with two cups of steaming hot chocolate courtesy of yours truly. In true Christmas spirit, Leon even suggested making a gingerbread house from scratch in the shape of the mayor's office (complete with a gingerbread dog) and helping you with the baking process.

At this point, neither of you cared about decorum—the sheriff's sleeves were rolled up high on his arms, and you'd shucked your apron ages ago. Between the pair of you, you had enough raw dough in your mouths to sink a ship, but it was delicious, and your stomach was full of warm gingerbread and sweet cream. All that was missing was eggnog and a roaring fire, and it really felt like Christmas. His company, too, was surprisingly pleasant. Though Leon was quiet—always quiet—he listened attentively to your chatter while you kneaded the dough and he mixed the sugar and eggs while occasionaly going in for the hot chocolate, which was quite endearing for a man you hadn't seen with any beverage other than some sort of alcohol at the saloon.

You leaned against the counter as Leon poured another mug of hot chocolate, his sleeves still rolled up and his hair slightly mussed from pushing it away too many times so it wouldn't get in his eyes while he worked. The snowstorm had calmed some, but the wind still howled outside, leaving little to do but bake another batch of cookies and fruitcakes to pass the time—and keep the shop warm.

“So, about that axle,” you started, reaching for the bowl of flour. “No one told you it was shot?”

Leon shook his head, his expression almost sheepish. “Guess I didn’t ask the right questions. Higgins just said it was ‘good enough.’”

You snorted, scooping flour into the mixing bowl. “‘Good enough’ by Higgins’ standards means it’s one bump away from falling apart. The man’s been patching that wagon together with spit and stubbornness for years.”

Leon’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he leaned against the counter across from you. “Noted for next time.”

“You’re lucky it lasted as long as it did. But you’ll get used to that around here. Everyone’s got their quirks, and most of them involve cutting corners where they shouldn’t.”

“Yeah?” Leon’s tone invited more, his eyes steady on yours as he sipped his hot chocolate.

“Oh, definitely,” you said, grabbing the sugar. “Take Mrs. Winslow, for example. Sweet old lady, bakes pies for half the town out of the goodness of her heart that it's bad for my business, but did you know she’s the reason the post office closes early every other Thursday?”

Leon blinked. “I… can’t say I did.”

You grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “She’s been having a years-long feud with the postmaster’s wife over some quilting contest back in ‘64. The poor postmaster just shuts up shop early to keep the peace whenever she’s around.”

“Jesus…”

“And then there’s Old Man Miller. Nice fella, always has a good story to share, but he’s also the same guy who thinks it’s a bright idea to milk his cows at midnight to ‘beat the rush’ at the market in the morning.” You laughed, remembering the sight of Mr. Miller stumbling bleary-eyed into the bakery, smelling distinctly of barnyard. “And let me tell you, that man’s cheese tastes like the butt crack of dawn on a Monday morning itself.”

Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds charming.”

“It is. Charming and... a little crazy, to be honest. But that’s the kind of place this is. We’ve all got our stories, and we’re all a bit touched in the head. Except me, of course. I’m the picture of sanity. Why, just yesterday, I had a completely normal, rational conversation with my sourdough starter as I fed it. It agreed wholeheartedly.”

“I see the resemblance,” Leon joked, his posture relaxing as he took over the task of adding eggs to the bowl, his fingers moving deftly and confidently. “Did the sourdough give you any tips for dealing with the townsfolk, or is that a trade secret?”

"Ah, wouldn't you like to know," you teased, laughing along. "But honestly, the best advice I can offer is to roll with the punches. This place will drive you nuts if you try to understand it. Just let the weird wash over you, and eventually, you'll feel at home."

Leon paused, considering your words. "That might take a while."

“Here's some secrets to keep up... There’s old Tom over at the smithy. He’ll fix your horseshoes for half price, but only if you promise not to bring up the time he accidentally set fire to the mayor’s porch.”

You glanced up to find his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges.

“And let’s not forget about the Reverend,” you continued, emboldened by the sight. “Bless his heart, but he’s been known to sample a little too much of the communion wine. You’ll know it’s happened when he starts quoting Shakespeare in his sermons.”

Leon nodded wisely. “Duly noted. Blackmail Tom, steer clear of the reverend during happy hour. Got any other wisdom to impart, town sage?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully, enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “Well, if you ever need a favor from the schoolmarm, remember that her favorite flowers are peonies. And whatever you do, do not play poker with the Doc. The man can cheat like no one's business, and no, he's not above using his medical degree to his advantage. Also, avoid the butcher on Tuesdays—he's extra cranky after haggling prices with the ranchers. Oh, and never, ever bet against the blacksmith in an arm-wrestling match. Trust me, I learned that the hard way. Poor Billy. That boy won't learn his lesson anytime soon."

"What about the town baker?" he asked, his tone light, a hint of curiosity in his question, his focus on the dough in front of him, his fingers kneading the mound of flour, butter, and sugar. "Any secrets worth knowing?"

You quirked a brow, a sly smile playing at the corners of your mouth at him taking the first step that he'd been circling for quite some time. What would he have done if you weren't good with signals? Nevermind, though, you liked this brand of shy men. "Well, now that you mention it, there is one thing..."

Leon paused, his hands buried in the dough, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt sleeves. He looked at you expectantly, a glint of intrigue in his otherwise impassive demeanor.

"The baker," you said in a hushed tone, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, "has a weakness for a handsome, helpful sheriff who knows his way around a bag of icing. Especially one who's willing to brave a snowstorm to deliver her supplies personally."

The blush that crept up Leon's neck was immediate, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. You couldn't help but bite your lower lip, finding his flustered state absolutely adorable. His grip on the dough tightened momentarily, and he averted his eyes, his lashes fluttering as he tried to compose himself.

"Ah," he managed, his throat bobbing in a nervous gulp.

You nodded, the grin on your face growing wider. "Mhm. She would love it if on Christmas Eve, that certain sheriff stopped by the bakery to pick up her special order. Maybe even have a drink together. To thank him for all his help, of course. If he's not busy, that is."

Leon cleared his throat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his attention still fixed on the dough before him. "I... I'll be sure to check my schedule," he managed, a slight tremor in his deepened voice.

"Good," you replied, straightening up, satisfied with his response. "Now, enough chit-chat, Sheriff. Let's get these gingerbread men in the oven so they can rest and bake, and we can have more hot chocolate and relax in the meantime. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan," Leon agreed, his shoulders relaxing somewhat, though his ears still burned a rosy red.

[mitsukitsume]

Tbh I genuinely don't understand who this "creepy" creator is supposed to be😭? Everyone here is family. I don't see a problem with anyone. So to make things a bit happier I'll say something good about (almost )everyone here.

@lil-binuu She's so chaotic and sweet. Also I just imagine her to be actually hello kitty typing and giggling at posts lol. I just love her. Everyone does.

@beeblelady I love her art and creativity. Her character is so beautiful.

@claiestve She's the moment. The icon. Everything about you is just iconic. I love her style it's so unique and cool.

@jvdeiscool They are adorable. Their writing is adorable and just like Binu I imagine that little dog I forgot the name of it lol typing and responding. If they were a dessert they'd be cookies idk I can't describe but they just give wholesome cookies vibes. 🍪

@kieran-rhoades I love their rants about everything. There so friendly. Kinda getting mom of the group vibes from them. Areally lovely person 💝

@xzhdjsj The icon of this blog. Though she may not be active as that much anymore , her angst remains unmatched. She's so adorable (and chaotic)

@chilliesillie I absolutely love her art. She's so talented and smart since she's in med school! Like you go girl!

@peppymintdreams I love how consistent she is in her. She's so sweet and delivers every time with her fic! I love reading them. Hardworking Girl 🤭

@soscarlett1twas They seem mature and a very caring person. They give Andrew vibes. But a very nice and considerate person. I love being around people like them.

@nanachozip Another friendly, sweet and kind person here. I swear everyone here is just so kind that I am running out of words to describe them.

@c-t-r-l14 I love their writing. They also seem to be very kind and friendly person. <3

@literary-motif I love their fics sooo much! Every single piece is a work of art. I think everyone does here. They also seem like an old soul. Like the way they even normally talk and respond to others is so poetic. They speak expensive English and I love that☺️

@nowhere-nena Sweet, kind and adorable. She's my twin because we both love Isaac.

@violarkgk Oh.my.God. Their animation is EVERYTHINGGGGG. it's so beautiful. I just love the way they drew Isaac. The way his Japanese features were highlighted, I loved that. They are so talented.

@xxluneilaxxaus Her art style is so adorable! She's so talented and creative. Also she's very friendly!!! . Her art reminds me of the time when animation was at peak in 2018-2019!

I am sorry if I miss any there are alot of people here and these were on the top of my mind! I'll be adding more! 🌹🌹🌹🌹

[waltzingwithyourenemyattheball]

PICK A CARD: MESSAGES FROM MAHADEVI (CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE)

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HAPPY RADHA ASTHAMI 🤍♥️🤍

🌸111🌸

Be grateful for all that you have. Be grateful for all that you have been blessed with. You may think you lack, but the truth says otherwise. You have the warmth of the sun, coolness of the moon, you have water to drink, you have food to eat, you can walk among beautiful scenery. You have all that you need, so don’t look for more. If you have a guitar, play a  song instead of dreaming about building a boat. You have all that you need and more. Be creative, once you start focusing on what all you do have, you’ll feel much richer. I am hearing you should spend time with your mother, help her in her work, be sweet not rude, it will go against you. Walking in nature barefoot will bring you tremendous results, especially if you are having troubles with rahu or shani. If you are taking sone sort of therapy /any healing sessions it will be successful, in 3 months you’ll notice a difference. Give service to cows and animals in general, this good karma will bring you recognition and even fame for some of you. Some of you need to cut your hair, even just a little bit to let go of the energy. Others need to start sadhana and grow their hair out. REGARDLESS take good care of your hair, it’s important. Keep it braided if you need to conserve energy. Wear more orange and red, and don’t let a day go by without writing how you felt today, why you felt that way, and end it with a gratitude list. Not just you, I am seeing your entire family successful, if you have been considering a family business or have one, this is a good sign.  Comment ‘Mahadevi’ to Claim!  🌙 DM TO BOOK A TAROT READING 🌙 🌻 Thank you for letting me read for you 🌻

🌑222🌑

Okay so listen, you know you have a choice, you have the choice to speak up your idea in the meeting, you have the choice to say ‘No’. You always have a choice. You are not tied down by chains, you are not tied down at all except by your mind. No cages exist outside your mind. It is your greatest friend and has the ability to be your greatest enemy too. How do you want it to serve you? That’s again a choice. Make the right one. Choose freedom. Choose expression. Don’t let others walk over you, tell them you have plans and you can’t help them today, its okay. HAVE THE COURAGE TO ASK FOR WHAT YOU WANT. If you never ask, you’ll never know. You think you don’t have much to offer so you become the person who doesn’t need anything, and that not doing anyone any good. DEMAND YOUR RIGHTS. Ask for what you want. You want your partner to come watch you play violin? ask him, have the courage. You are a lion then why do you pretend to be a sheep. You could be born in the year of the horse as well. Some of you are lion yoni. Behave like yourself, the more you astray, the more depressed you feel. You want adrenaline, and you are scared of the same. Trust me, if you let loose you won’t run wild and return home safe. You are somewhat terrified of what could happen if you let yourself be, since you’ve never been, you can’t comprehend and with the fear of uncertainty, so you are always on edge, to say what you actually want to but never do and they are out the door. Other have a pre-conceived notion of you that you want to keep, honey its not healthy you have to let that go before it swallows you complete. Your fire has been watered down, its time to bring it back.  Comment ‘Mahadevi’ to Claim!  🌙 DM TO BOOK A TAROT READING 🌙

🥀333🥀 If you have been seeing a humming bird, or after reading this if you see one, don’t be surprised. They are a sign that you are taking everything too seriously, even things that shouldn’t be taken that way, you have forgotten to stop and smell the roses. It seems like you are someone who has a responsibilities on their shoulders, and you just can’t seem to relax. Between all things mundane, you have forgotten to keep track of your soul’s purpose. Many of you don’t know why you are here. You world is limited to the material realm. You are being told to take time out for honoring your soul’s purpose. One of them is ‘Joy’. You are not here to be in a low or neutral emotional state, you are hear to feel joy and spread joy. It could come from any number of things, from just taking a day off or making time for your hobbies or laughing your ass off. You are here to be curious and be filled with wonder and awe. All these responsibilities are making you anxious, you can’t sleep, you can’t eat, and all you do is think all the time, about business and about family and that’s all your life is, you aren’t even in there. I am not saying you shouldn’t focus here, you should these are key areas of life but take a step back, take some time for yourself. HEVAY BURN OUT ENERGY. This isn’t even burn out, you are toasted and done, most of this is coming from the fact that most of your day you do things put of compulsion, you don’t want to do them, but you do. Figure out how to honor your soul’s purpose, and find joy in things or simply do what brings you joy. There is work that need to be done within the family dynamic as well. One step at a time and step starts with you.  Comment ‘Mahadevi’ to claim!  🌙DM to find your Soul’s Mission🌙

- EL TAROT

[skzdust]

Arrange These to Spell Love

Chapter One: Lilac, Purple

Welcome to my new series, Arrange These to Spell Love! @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna requested a San enemies to lovers fluffy smut, and I kind of took off in a completely different direction... but there will be enemies to lovers and there will be fluff and there will be smut, so I hope you enjoy it regardless! I even decided to include the Yeosang from one of my recent fics... Your Boyfriend, Yeosang. He isn't your boyfriend now, though, of course ;) Thank you for the request, it really kickstarted my creativity!

A few little notes: The flower language book I'm referencing is available through the internet archive here. It's pretty cool, you should check it out! Also, each chapter will be titled after a flower, with its meaning and associated poem at the beginning, to set a tone for and foreshadow the chapter.

Shoutout to Rem, @rems-writing, for the title and for beta reading, and of course my bestie @palindrome969 for beta reading as well!!

Summary: You run Beehive Flowers and Enchantments in your small beach town... and the attractive and infuriating Choi San runs the competition, Seaside Floral. When he calls you asking for help learning about Victorian flower language, you agree to help him. Little did you know what was to follow... involving your town's harvest festival, a wayward enchantment, and your best friend with benefits, Kang Yeosang.

Pairing: Kang Yeosang/Choi San/afab reader love triangle

This chapter includes: unexpected phone calls, "I hate him I swear", wine night with best friend with benefits Yeosang, a family spell book, and Victorian flower poetry

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 2

Masterlist

-----

LILAC, PURPLE: Too well-known to need description. Flowers purple and white.

FIRST EMOTIONS OF LOVE

"How sweet and rapturous 'tis to feel/ Ourselves exalted in a lovely soul!--/ To know our joys make glow another's cheek,/ Our fears do tremble in another's heart/ Our sufferings bedew another's eye!"

-SCHILLER

"As the little floweret hideth/ By the woodland stream,/ So in youthful hearts abideth/ Love's first witching dream."

-MISS J.A. FLETCHER

San and you were rivals. There was no other word for it.

You owned Beehive Flowers and Enchantments, a flower and spell shop which had been in your family for decades. Your grandmother had run it, then your dad, and now you had taken over. You were the only store that sold flowers or magic in your small beach town, and business was steady.

At least it had been, until Seaside Floral had opened last summer, run by the most attractive man you’d ever seen: Choi San. Unfortunately, he was also the most hateable. He was sweet to customers, but you saw him as smug and deeply competitive.

You’d seen it when you and your mom had brought him a bouquet, last summer, when San had first opened his store. It had been a beautiful arrangement, made of bright yellow, orange, and pink blooms. San had thanked you with a huge grin, but a couple of days later, you saw the flowers in their trash can.

Ever since then, San was number one on your ‘people I dislike’ list.

Sure, he didn’t sell everything you did. Your customers came to you for sleeping potions and home protection charms as much as they did for arrangements. But that didn’t mean he didn’t irk you endlessly.

The shop phone rang as you were removing the leaves from some lilies. You set down the flowers and picked it up. “Hello, Beehive Flowers and Enchantments, this is y/n speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hello, y/n, it’s Choi San, from Seaside Floral.”

You were immediately on the defensive. “Hi, San. What can I do for you?”

“I—” He sighed. “I want to ask you for a favor.”

You bristled. “Why do you think I owe you a favor?”

“You don’t, you don’t.” San rushed to say. “You don’t. I just think another florist is the only one who will really be able to help me.”

“What is it?”

“Can you come to my shop tonight? I think it’ll be easier just to explain in person.”

You sighed. “I’m… I don’t have anything going on. I’ll be there after we close, so probably around 6:30.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” You sighed. “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You set the receiver down and just stared into space for a moment. The Choi San you knew would never just call you for help for no reason. You wondered for a moment if there was some flower-related subterfuge going on, then banished the thought. That was silly. And San wasn’t that creative.

The day seemed to fly by, and soon enough you were locking up the store. You glanced at your phone. You’d get to San’s a bit early, but that was fine.

You walked through the town to Seaside Floral, trying to predict what San was going to want, but truly, you had no idea. You arrived at the shop at 6:20, and looked in through the front window, past their CLOSED sign.

San was standing behind the counter, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he snipped the bottom of a rose. He set it in a vase full of foliage and tilted his head at it, moving a few of the flowers and smiling at it.

He looked adorable, and your smiled before remembering that it was San and adjusting your expression to be stonier. You walked to the door and knocked.

San opened it a second later, wiping his hands on his apron, a stray leaf sticking to the front of him. “Y/n! Thank you so much for coming.”

“What do you want?” You raised your eyebrows, stepping into the shop. “I must say, I was a little surprised at your call.”

San laughed. “Yeah, I know we haven’t been very cooperative with each other, but I want to change that. I think if we did some events or promotions together it could be good for both of us.”

“So you want to plan something?”

“Maybe a flower stall or something at the harvest festival, we could both sell stems and you could have some fall themed enchantments or something… but no, not tonight.” San locked the door, and you followed him to the counter. “One of my customers wants to use Victorian flower language in the centerpieces of her wedding. She seemed pretty confident in my abilities to do something with it, but I’m… pretty clueless on that topic.” He smiled sheepishly. “Maybe that makes me a bad florist. I thought you might know, though. You seem like you’d be into meanings of flowers. So, I was wondering if you’d teach me.”

You blinked. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. “I do know about Victorian flower language.”

“So, you’ll teach me?” San’s smile was hopeful.

“Why don’t you just, like, google it?”

“I feel like this is something that should be taught, not googled.” San picked up a stem, twirling it between two fingers. “And I feel like you’d be a good teacher.”

You hesitated for a moment. “That’s white jasmine, which means, like… kind love, sweet love.”

San beamed. “I feel like I should be taking notes!”

“Don’t take notes.” You shook your head. “You should try to memorize them. It makes you look like more of an expert when a customer asks about it.”

“No notes, then.” San pulled out his phone. “Here, I’ll give you my number.”

You couldn’t believe it, but you typed San’s number into your phone.

He was acting so nice. You couldn’t let him fool you.

—

Your took another sip from your wine glass. “Yeah, and then he asked for my number.”

“Your number?” Yeosang lifted his eyebrows. “Really? Did he need that?”

“I don’t really think so.” You shook your head.

“Why are you helping him, anyway?” Yeosang asked. “I thought he was the competition.”

“He is.” You looked down.  “I’m… I don’t know, I’m accepting the olive branch.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. “He said he wants to do a flower stall come autumn, for the harvest festival, and maybe he’s right. It would be good for business.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” Yeosang scooted a bit closer to you on the couch. “You’d have to be on your game to have something at that festival, it’s so popular.”

“It sounded like he’d thought a lot about it, even mentioned enchantments I could sell. I don’t know what he’s trying to do.” You mumbled, looking into your glass as if the wine would tell you San’s true intentions.

“I do think you should keep him at arm’s length. He’s kind of been a dick in the past.”

You nodded. “Oh, I have no plans to be best friends with the guy.”

Yeosang nudged your shoulder. “As your best friend, I’d hope not.”

You looked at him, smiling. “I could never replace you, Sangie.”

“You better not.” Yeosang winked.

Your heart jumped. Yeosang was your best friend with benefits, but you’d agreed that outside of occasional really hot sex, you couldn’t become more. You’d dated for a bit in college, when you’d lived together, but when you’d both moved back to your hometown, you’d broken up. Neither of you wanted to risk your relationship as best friends.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to wake up with him every morning, instead of just every so often.

—

You got unreasonably excited about your first flower language lesson with San as you flipped through the pages of the 1850s botanical book that your mother had given you, passed down from her family. It was one of your most valued possessions, and it was where you’d learned all you knew about Victorian flower language, as well as being the family spell book. It was reassuring to see all of your knowledge written out in old ink on old pages. It also soothed you to see the loopy handwriting along the edges of the pages, spells and recipes written out in the book. It was proof that generations of witches were on your side.

You didn’t bring the book with you as you got your things together to go to Seaside Floral that evening. It was too precious to risk something happening to it. Instead, you took some flowers from the shop that you wanted to tell San about. You would go into this lesson prepared.

You knocked at the door right at 6:30 this time.

“Stressed?” Your eyes flicked to San’s hair when he opened the door, which was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.

He gave a short laugh. “You could say. I’m just rushing for this wedding.”

“Then I guess I’ll start with flowers that represent love.” You carefully pulled a white flower with long petals out of your bag. “Lemon blossoms for fidelity in love.”

San picked up the bloom. “Lemon blossoms… I didn’t know that even flowers from fruits had meanings.”

“Oh, almost every plant has a meaning.” You held out a vine of ivy next. “Ivy is also fidelity, but it has a slightly different meaning… ‘I cling to thee’… which might sound bad, people think clinginess is bad, but it was actually quite a sweet and desirable The lemon blossom has the connotation of lemon, which means zest, so it’s a bit more enthusiastic in its commitment, whereas the ivy is more sentimental.”

San took the ivy from you, looking at it thoughtfully.

You went on. “Some of them have poems, too. I have this… this book that’s full of all of this information. It’s old, but the poems are nice.”

“Is there one for ivy?” San looked at you.

You cleared your throat. “Yes… it’s pretty… um… sappy. That’s how a lot of Victorian poetry is, I guess.”

“Do you know it?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “Long have I sought, and vainly have I yearned to meet some spirit that could answer mine; then chide me not that I so soon have learned to talk with thine. Oh, thou wilt cherish what some hearts would spurn, so gentle and so full of soul thou art; and shrine my feelings in that holy urn— thine own true heart.”

San smiled. “It’s not great poetry, but it’s sweet.”

You shrugged. “Ivy often reflects matrimony, so it’s very lovey-dovey writing.”

“Ivy… matrimony.” He nodded. “Perfect for a wedding bouquet, then.’”

“Yeah, you’re getting it.”

“This is interesting.” San stared at the ivy. “I wonder if anyone will get it.”

“Probably not.” You grinned. “But you’ll get it, and I’ll get it, and I think it’s fun.”

“It is fun.” San looked back at you. “Show me another one.”

You left the shop wanting to hex San much less than usual.

[ijwrsmff]

MC showing the brothers their favorite anime character and they are exactly like them! How do they feel? Do they bring it up? Or not say anything? (If you don’t want to do all 7, could you do Lucifer, Levi, Asmo, and Beel? :3)

This was so fun XD I had to write for all 7, simply because I wanted to. And I had a pretty good idea for all of them, so it wasn't too much at all to let the idea take me away ^~^

Ended up being pretty long, but I put it in headcanon format, even though a lot of bullets were several sentences. I tried.

@ibby-miyoshi-nerd

Word Count: 1,677

Lucifer:

“He’s so cool! He’s the oldest brother, and he has a lot of weight on his shoulders, and even though he’s sweet on the inside he acts really tough! And rightfully so, he is actually really tough.” You rambled to Lucifer about your favorite anime character. 

“So…he’s like…” Lucifer wanted to say “Like me” but that would mean admitting he was soft on the inside. He wouldn’t dare say that, especially since some of his brothers were home. “A responsible big brother.” 

As you went on and on about the character, he simply smiled softly and nodded to show he was listening

You were warming his heart, in a way that hadn’t been done for centuries…maybe even ever

He asked a couple questions, here and there, but he really did just love to hear you talk

“So what do you think about him?” You asked with beaming eyes

Lucifer hesitated a few moments while he gathered the words, “He seems like a smart man. Brave, and powerful.” 

“Yeah…he is.” Your words were quiet as you gazed into Lucifer’s eyes

You know…your character and Lucifer were pretty similar, huh?

Mammon:

“Mammon! Pleeeeeease let me tell you about this character!” You whined and followed him as he was practically running away from you

His face was red, because you’re puppy eyes were was too cute to look into for long

But after a few minutes he stopped and you bumped into him “Fine! Just make it quick, I’ve got a date with Goldie!” He waved the card in the air, and had a mischievous look in his eyes

“Okay so! He loves money, but he loves his family and the person he loves even more! He won’t say it, but he’s one of the kindest men in the world! He does kind of get caught up in himself, but he can be humble when the time comes!” You showed him the picture of the character as you spoke, and scrolled through a few

Huh…blond hair, somewhat tall, got a glimmer in his eyes…

“He seems okay. Kind of stupid though.” Mammon did not at all put the pieces together, and ended up unintentionally slamming himself

To anyone else, it was clear you were actually talking about Mammon, and you hoped he’d realize but he didn’t

It’s alright though! Next time you’ll make it absolutely obvious

Levi:

All you had to do to spend time with Levi was say “I wanna talk about anime characters!” Your secret password didn’t even matter, the door was swung open and there he was with a dorky grin on his face

He expected nerdiness, but not to have you describe your favorite anime character to be so much like HIM!

“He loves anime and manga, games too! He doesn’t talk to many people, but sometimes he talks a whole lot if he’s passionate about something! Especially to the few he does care about. He has a TON of special interests, and can be super creative!” 

With each passing word his face got just a bit redder. He had a small scowl on his face after a bit though. To hear you talk so much about someone else kind of bothered him, and he still wasn’t sure if you were even talking about him or not anymore!

“Me or him…” He muttered, but you could barely hear him so he repeated it once more

“Well you, of course!” You laughed and he tried to figure out if your laughter meant you were joking or not

“No seriously, no anime character compares to you. I thought…you’d find it cute if I even liked a character just like you.” With a smile, that made him officially melt

“Then…I’LL COSPLAY HIM! THAT’S IT!” He ran to his closet and started talking about the way to “win them over” was to combine the two

He’s such a silly demon, and you loved that about him

Satan:

He never openly complained about spending time with you, and you came up with a plan! So you went to his library to set the plan in motion…

“Saaaaatan! I have a character from one of my favorite anime I wanna show you!” You burst in, and he was reading as…was expected.

He closed his book after finishing the paragraph he was on, with a bookmark in place

“Oh? Another character, go ahead, tell me about them” He would always make time for you, and seeing you so excited was just adorable

“He can get angry a lot, but it’s usually only because he cares! He’s really creative, and gets lost in his books all the time. It’s kind of like an escape for him, and learning has always been a passion for him!” 

It made Satan smirk, as he said “If you liked me you could have just said so.” He walked towards you and his smirk turned into a smile

“No need to beat around the bush, you know why?” He was close to you now, and for a second you thought he was leaning in for a kiss, but he leaned so his hot break brushed against your ear

“Because I like you too. My favorite little human…” 

Asmo:

When you walked in, super excited to see him he finished his makeup quickly and ran up to hug you

It made you blush, but you had a plan! 

“Asmo! Look at this character! He’s my favorite! He always wears pink, loves to dress up and look all around both handsome and beautiful! He can be a bit of a flirt, but nothing like how he is with the person he loves!”

The more you spoke the more he smiled, “You have excellent taste! I can see why I’m your favorite demon!” He spun you around for a second and kissed your cheeks forehead and nose

You were blushing more than before, “Okay, okay!” You laughed and “tried” to push him away, “Don’t let it get to your head!” His kisses didn’t cease for several minutes and he ended up setting you down in his makeup chair

“We should have matching makeup! It’ll show how cute we are together!” He kissed your red cheeks and smiled wide

“T-together? Really?” It was hard to contain your excitement, and he ended up laughing at just how cute you are

“Of course! I’m your favorite, it means you looooove me~! If you think after rambling about how much you like a character because he’s like me we wouldn’t get together you’d be wrong~!” He giggled and started working on your makeup, but it was hard since you kept giggling

“I don’t know about LOVE, but we can get there. Just don’t mess it up!” You joked, letting out a few giggles as you winked at him

Beel:

“Beel! Look at my favorite anime character!” You ran up to him as he worked out, which was funny timing, “He loves to work out, can eat more than anyone else, and can be really funny but also adorable! He loves his family a lot, and ends up sacrificing so much to make them happy!” 

He stopped the second you were in the room and walked up to you to look at the picture

“He’s like me…” He tilted his head and saw a ton of similarities in the characters personality and looks to him

“Y-Yeah! Isn’t he cool?” He wasn’t putting the pieces together yet, but you knew he’d get there with time

“Wanna help me with my workout?” He smiled and it made you smile too

You had a big soft spot for the tall demon, if he asked you to do anything in the world you probably would, and he’s showed on multiple occasions that he’d do the same for you

You sat on his back while he did push ups for a while, but then he fell

“B-Beel? Are you okay?” You were concerned and he spun around while lifting you while you laid on his chest, faces super close together

“Does that mean…I’m your favorite character? Uh…demon? …Person?” He was fumbling and it was really cute, honestly

A couple giggles escaped and you kissed the tip of his nose, “Yeah…you are.” 

With a hug as tight but gentle as he gave, it gave you all the answer you needed. He liked you just as much if not more, as shown by the deepening blush on his face

Belphie:

“Belphie look!” You showed him a picture of a character sleeping, “He’s my favorite! He sleeps a lot, and can be a hopeless flirt but it’s sooooo cute! He cares a lot, but has a secret dark side which can be really cool but also scary if it’s directed at you!” 

He was hanging out in his star-gazing room, and looked like he’d fall asleep at any minute

He grinned and grabbed you, pulling you down to his level while he laid on the floor and hugged you close

You blushed a bit, but it wouldn’t be the first time you cuddled with Belphie, since both of you did really like to cuddle. Especially with each other…

“Go on, tell me more.” You were facing each other, one hand holding yours as the other wrapped around your shoulders to your back

You rambled for a bit, but had a hard time making eye contact with him

“No. No more.” You told him, and because you were flustered, you leaned forward and hid your face in his neck

“Awww please? I want to fall asleep hearing all the things you love about me, that you’re projecting onto that character.” So he DID know. Maybe you were being too obvious…

After several moments, he continued with a “Fine, maybe we’ll do the opposite. I’ll tell you all the things I love about you until you fall asleep.” He rubbed your back and chuckled to himself before he did exactly that, saying each and every thing about you he loved, which was more than you thought possible

Falling asleep like this…really isn’t so bad at all

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hey everyone, welcome to my blurb masterlist !!

This is for the cute little ideas I’ll randomly come up with instead of the one shots that take up a lot of time and energy.

This is for when I have random bursts of creativity!

There will be angst, fluff and sometimes poorly written smut 😭

Word of warning, these blurbs will most likely be under 5k as there only supposed to be short, so enjoy <3

a morning in berlin.

in which, harry and madison are in berlin, whilst your back at home in the uk working, madison’s almost turning three in april, and harry wants to spend as much time with his two year old as possible.

morning kisses.

in which, it’s the morning of harry’s birthday and what better way to wake him up then with kisses.

new years eve.

in which, this new years is the most different one that you and harry have ever spent together, instead of going out to a party, your both cuddled up on the sofa with your newborn fast asleep on there daddies chest.

sweet dreams.

in which, its christmas eve, and harry is tucking his daughter into bed, just like he does every night.

just how fast the night changes.

in which, your out at a christmas market with your friends, you end up hurting yourself on the ice rink, resulting in you going to the hospital, where your fiance is doing the night shift.

baby, you’re a firework.

in which, some school friends of harry’s is hosting a firework display round his house, and thought it would be nice to invite harry and the family, the wife is over the moon and the little one is awestruck.

sun, sea and sandy footprints.

in which, it’s your daughters first time at the beach, the sun is shining, the sea is cooling and this is where you realise there’s no place you’d rather be.

family bbq.

in which, with a rare day of sunshine in london, harry and the missus decide to throw a little bbq where all of the close family are invited, drinks are spilled, games a played and memories are created that last a life time.

daddy’s little girl.

in which, harry holding his baby for the first time is everything he had wished for and more.

he knelt to the ground….

in which, you and harry have been together for three years now, and at this point your relationship basically has a third with the amount of times you play taylor around the house, so at the eras concert he surprises you with something you’ll never forget.

the best interruption.

in which, harrys been in his at home office for the majority of the day, and your little one is getting antsy after not spending time with there best friend, so when he’s typing away and answering emails, they stroll into the office, crawling onto his lap.

the finish line.

in which, harrys wife is running the london marathon, having been signed up by her sister in law gemma as a joke and now as she is nearing the finish line, harry is determined to be there to greet her.

airport security.

in which, harry and his daughter madison have a tradition of going on a little father-daughter holiday, they first did it when she was six months old, just before her first birthday and now there doing it just before her second birthday, but today, let’s just say little miss is in a very cranky mood.

in the stars.

in which, harry is remembering you, his beloved wife, mother of his child, that passed away, this is him grieving, remembering the lives that the two of you shared together and will always share together, no matter the circumstances.

sky high.

in which, your an airhostess for british airways, and harry’s been a pilot for british airways for the last four years, and your both working on the same a380 to the big apple.

school pick up.

in which, harrys on school pick up duties for his little one, and it’s his babies favourite time of the day when he sees her best friend, her father standing at the gates.

uncle harry.

in which, after the birth of her baby, you and harry decided to stop by the hospital to see her, where tears fall and memories are created.

boys day out.

in which, manchester united are playing luton town fc in the premier league, and so what better thing to do then take your two football obsessed children to watch there favourite team hopefully win.

carribbean privacy.

in which, you and harry decided to go for a little family holiday to start the new year off on the right foot, and went to a caribbean island, where your just trying to enjoy yourselves, and spend some quality time with your two children, when a couple of fans spot your husband.

when the clock strikes midnight.

in which, you and harry broke up just over a year ago, and have not seen each other since, but when your friend invites you to a new years eve party with all your close ones there, the last person you expected to see walk through the door was him.

underneath the tree.

in which, since officially dating harry for a total of eight years now, courting for three, being married for three and parents for two, you’ve both given each other, such wonderful gifts over the years, and here’s a few of them.

do you still love me?

in which, harrys been acting shifty lately, when your looking for a shirt in his wardrobe, he gets hostile, when you say your going to go and shower, he gets hostile and for some reason doubts start to creep into your mind about what he’s been doing, so when you confront him about it, he tells you of his secret all along.

santa’s grotto.

in which, harry takes his two year old son, sebastian, to go and see santa because your at home sick from the flu, but it doesn’t go aswell as he hoped seeing as all little kids appear to have a phobia of the man dressed in red.

i saw mummy kissing santa claus .

in which, when you and harry are putting the christmas presents under the tree on christmas eve, with harry dressed up in a santa costume just for his own novelty, and share a little moment to themselves, unbeknownst to them that there four year old son arlo, was watching the whole time.

daddy’s new hair style.

in which, your fiancé returns home one afternoon, shocking both you and your son milo when he appears to be sporting a new hair cut, neither of you seemed to be prepared for.

pumpkin patch.

in which, you and harry decide to take your son teddy to the pumpkin patch in honour of it finally hitting october, the three of you decide to make a day of things, and let’s just say the day doesn’t exactly turn out how you all expected it, a series of unfortunate events occur and that all starts out with your fiancé getting annoyed that the sat nav isn’t helping him very much.

snack wars.

in which, on this episode of snack wars, we sit down with a certain curly headed lad who goes by the name of harry styles who happens to be comparing british and american snacks.

the terrible twos.

in which, travelling with your husband around europe hasn’t been the most smooth sailing, especially when your daughters currently experiencing her terrible twos.

sick on tour.

in which, touring europe was meant to be a fun thing to do as a family, but when your toddler suddenly developes a sickness bug, you watch with fond eyes as your husband takes care of your little one, nursing them back to full health.

london experiences.

in which, whilst walking around the streets of london with your fiancé harry and two year old daughter mila whose currently getting her molars growing in, things appear to be going swell until a fan asks for a photo and your little one has to be disturbed.

broken ankle, karma rules.

in which, going on a run with your fiancé of two years means harmless flirting and teasing, that is until an incident occurs and he has to carry you back to the car.

jealous baby styles.

in which, five days ago, you and harry welcomed another little baby into the world, but the blissful baby bubble isn’t all it turns out to be when you have a toddler as well.

airport chaos.

in which, harry’s just finished his show in barcelona, and is en-route to madrid, but there’s one more hurdle that needs to be jumped when fans bombard him, you and your one year old son finley. this results in a very agitated harry, a tearful toddler and a wife that’s claustrophobic.

like father like son.

in which, in 2018, you and your fiancé harry welcomed a little baby boy into the world, and his name was sammy. him and his father were exact replicas of each other, same brown tousled curls, forest green orbs, matching dimples and bunny teeth, harry jr. loves everything to do with his father, wherever he went, he wasn’t far behind.

the box.

in which, your husband is ready to go on stage for fifteen out of fifteen nights at the kia forum, and the crew team come up with a way for him to get to the stage unnoticed, but his three year old daughter wants to get involved as-well.

the bath tub.

in which, your looking for your husband backstage at his concert, and get directed by a crew member that he’s in his dressing room. things get heated the second you walk into the room, and there’s nothing like a quick quickie in the bathtub.

styles on the reins.

in which, harry’s looking after his two year old son, parker whilst you go out with your aunt, so they decide to go on a walk around the small streets of italy where your currently residing, but that’s easier said then done when the little one is just as feral as his father.

a helping hand.

in which, your six months pregnant, your sweaty, ankles are swollen and your nauseous all the time, getting on the boat was a slightly easy task, but the task of getting off the boat is a lot harder, but luckily your husband is there to help you.

wedding day blues.

in which, it’s your and your fiancés wedding day, getting married in the garden of your shared italian villa, surrounded by your close friends and loved ones, but you can’t help but let the nerves get to you.

tired baby styles.

in which, you, harry and your one and a half year old son, elliott are holidaying in spain, where your little one won’t go down for his afternoon nap, so your boyfriend comes up with an idea to get him to doze off.

your blue birds.

in which, whilst your at home dealing with your sickness bug, harry takes the little one to the stadium with him so he’s out of your hair, that’s where you get sent a photo of them that makes you feel ten times better.

[tortugatalks]

𝗖𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗞 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝗗𝗼 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵/𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗦/𝗢|ᴴᶜˢ

𓆉 gender neutral reader

𓆉 established romantic relationship

𓆉 no warnings!

Martin Kratt

━ he loves beachcombing with you! (with care and in moderation!!) there's something so sweet about walking along the shore line with you and picking up pretty shells and rocks. you'll hold hands, but it won't be long before he's run off picking up an empty shell, observing it and informing you about its cool features and the little critters that could've inhabited it. all this before he gifts you it, telling you with a bright smile that it reminded him of you— a wondrous find he's lucky to call home.

━ insists that you name some of the baby animals the wk crew meet along the way. doesn't matter if youre not the creative type! whatever name you choose, he's more than happy with it. you need only say it once and that's all it takes for him to roll it off the tip of his tongue so endearingly! on occasion, you two brainstorm names together and get so into it that you briefly lose track of time and get side-tracked. not like you two mind, however. you could do this all day!

Chris Kratt

━ titles you his official "lab partner" when he's in the mood for one of his infamous experiments. these "experiments" usually just involve inconveniencing martin, but hey! you get results and you two admittedly get a kick out of watching the ordeal spiral into chaos. even when he's apart from you, you're the first person he thinks of and is quick to pull out his creature pod and contact you to fill you in on his thoughts and ideas. he listens to your hypotheses too and is more than willing to help execute them! it comes to a point where neither of you have to say anything and just give each other a "look" that his blue brother dreads every time.

━ organizes your belongings without you having to even ask. lose a disc? lose some gear? dw abt it! hes five steps ahead of you and knows exactly where your things are. mans has a system for practically everything and is always prepared for anything you may need. he pays heavy attention to your wants and needs, so whenever you run out of things, he just so happens to have a spare in his backpack or pocket.

Aviva Corcovado

━ adores it when you two share stuff about your families and childhood. she could talk about how she loves her grandmami for hours and is so ecstatic when she gets to proudly show you the items that have been passed down to her. she takes extra care of her family's possessions and the stuff she personally treasures, but her trust in you is so immense that she let's you hold on to them for a bit. atp in your relationship, her heart is full access to you. so much so that she considers you close family! gift her something that you treasure deeply and she'll feel so honored. will cherish it forever and makes sure no one else will ever get their hands on it.

━ goes without saying, but she'll most definitely invent cute little things for you! everything she makes is personal and thoughtful. if there's anything you need to make your life a little easier, just say the word and she'll boast about how you've reached the right person for the job! or she'll do it for you as a surprise!! there are times when some of the things you recommend she makes sound utterly ridiculous to her, but its not like she could ever say no to you. she spoils you rotten—and not a word of this to the others!!

Koki

━ gardening has gotta be one of her favourite pastimes with you! there isn't really much of a garden in the tortuga, so you two typically go out into town to buy some potted plants. she's rather fond of growing summer squashes and it's very convenient for if the wk crew wants to eat a healthy snack. that and you two are always collecting seeds from different continents—even indulging in planting them whenever it seems like a place needs serious vegetation! cue the relaxing lemonade breaks out in the sun <3

━ has a little usb containing pictures/videos of you. she loves documenting your dates with her creature pod and keeps them as mementos of your day to day life! she's very open about it and wouldn't deny you from accessing them at all. if you take a closer inspection into her files, you'll see that she has an entire album dedicated to funny and rather "unflattering" shots of you. much to your dismay, she insists behind raspy chuckles that you look "picture perfect" (no, she will not delete them!)

Jimmy Z

━ enjoys developing fun little game demos with you based on your guys' interests! if youre not the programming type, you better believe you'll be involved in the creative process. its a "together" effort and whether it be concept art, plots, the ost or ideas for game mechanics, he's always taking your thoughts into deep consideration. he'll definitely find a way to implement them into production. once a demo is completed, it's a full on game date night, baby!!

━ gives you piloting lessons! only when the rest of the gang isn't around though, haha whoops! although not being the boldest out of the crew, hes epecially confident in his aviation skills. he holds so much patience and is really good at easing you through the process. stars form in his eyes whenever you do a successful landing and he's extremely vocal with his praises. fist-bumps, pats on the back, tiny dances, you name it! he is extremely proud of you and wait, whats that? celebratory pizza!?

[enter-the-phantom]

Some time ago you asked me about my angel Gabriel and I am here to return the favor, PLEASE tell me about your gabriel when you have a moment 👀

- @starshine-selfships

Can’t believe I am just getting to this, I am the worst.

YES LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY AWFUL BEAUTIFUL BOY!!

This is my Gabe and he makes me feral and insane. ❤️❤️❤️

How do I begin to describe Gabriel. He’s crazy smart and just plain crazy and a tiny short king who is also terrifyingly strong and powerful. He has no off switch, never shuts up, runs off of sugar and spite, has the world’s cutest dimples and the most beautiful golden eyes and is just annoying and hot and wonderful.

This sexy bastard is one of the most powerful and ancient archangels and was one of the first fallen angels, he left/was kicked out because he refused to join the infighting and corruption in his family. He was tired of watching his siblings tear each other apart so he ran off to take the place of one of the pagan gods (Loki, if you can believe it) and ended up with his powers—sort of a pseudo angel/Trickster God hybrid. He’s a chaotic neutral silly boi who likes to wreak havoc by killing nasty people in creative ways and looks really hot doing it.

In my canon, he’s also my guardian angel and not super happy about it at first but he catches feelings and it’s all very bittersweet bc he knows I love his brother and he wants me and Cas to be happy so he’s willing to step back and let us be together, even though it tears him apart inside. Instead he just follows me around acting vaguely annoying.

In my happy little headspace though we’re madly in love and all over each other constantly and it’s very gross. We are the OG chaos couple, we enable each other’s insanity and annoy everyone but it’s okay bc we love each other so so much ❤️

What’s funny and stupid is that he was a platonic f/o for a long ass time but I was not platonic about him at all and just didn’t realise it and it was cringe and pathetic. We actually meet him before we meet Cas, and from the moment he showed up I was like “that guy.” Don’t learn his name until like season 4 but every time he showed up I’m like “oh my god it’s my fave it’s the trickster he’s back I hope he’s in every episode ever he’s great omg” and then I learned he was an angel and not only that he’s this universe’s Loki and I lost my shit and made him a platonic right then and there but also couldn’t shut up about how cool he was (srsly look at my Gabe tag, it’s pathetic 💔) and eventually had to face facts and felt stupid. Now we kiss a lot.

Anyway he’s hot and stupid and perfect and he can be so charismatic and flirty or so gentle and sweet and he is everything and I love him and I want to cry.

Also here’s a fic about our first meeting if anyone is interested 👉🏻👈🏻

[lavendelhummel]

Hi! I'm your Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange gifter! I'm a writer and will be crafting a story for you. I am happy to take any requests you have in terms of vibe, setting, rating, hijinks, etc.

I like AUs and happy to work with canon too. I prefer to write them getting together but will try established relationship on request. Finally, I can do happy or angsty endings but I promise I won't leave Myka and Helena without any hope. So don't ask for that :)

Hi! Ahhh okay, yeah I am here!

Sorry if this wasn’t a very prompt reply, my life is being a bit dramatic at the moment (When is it not. But different now. Anyway.). Okay! I am pretty nervous tbh because I am participating for the first time so I don’t really know what to say plus my tendency to ramble… I’ll just say list things I like?

First off: I do like established relationships, but getting together can be really good too! I think what I like about it is that the affection for each other is more on page when they are together for longer. Which leads me to:

I like sweet things, but not too sweet. Like, yes happy ending and yes fluff but realistic? Earned? I think you know what I mean? Humor is nice too!

I think I like them, particularly Myka, overcoming her insecurities. I have been thinking about what if she actually had finished one of the big uni- degrees she started (but abandoned in canon). What if Helena had been there because AU? A younger and not believing in herself Myka Bering doing big things being stressed out and being confronted with /supported by / annoying the hell out of Helena Wells? But that’s just a very self indulgent little thing, don’t feel obligated to make more out of it! I guess at the heart I am a hurt/comfort girlie…

So, yes I like AUs! But canon is cool too! 

I like every-day-life moments. I guess they feel soothing to me in this shaking sailboat that is life. 

I really like Helena being difficult. Just in general as a person. Myka too. But different, because of who they are. I kind of love them a lot.

You will see in my ao3 that his past year I had a thing for mermaids and for cavorite-exploration (why don’t they talk about that more in the show!!) - all these crazy HG Wells inventions and her writing are interesting! If you want to make something out of that, that could be fun. But no need to (my obsession with those two ideas is over the worst) .I also thing it can be funny and endearing for Helena to discover modern things (vaccines! Especially the polio but that’s my weird pet peeve. Not polio but vaccines but Helena would be fascinated by that one in particular imo) but that’s difficult with the timeline. 

Tropewise I’ve always enjoyed the fake relationship/fake married one for some reason. I don’t know what’s up with that. 

I like literature and history but am not that well versed anymore bc of afore mentioned life not sparing a lot of time the past few years - but since this is global exchange with bridging cultures my own expertise would vary anyways probably. 

I like when Myka and Helena are smart together. But maybe not too much, realistic much. 

Okay I took a moment to think of more I like and came back to this but I am having a very stressful few days and (being with family which blocks my creative thinking as well) so rn I can’t really say more and if I don’t send it now I will only do so out of the deadline. I’m sorry, this is not very concrete or helpful. I think I like a lot of things, so there it’ll be hard to find something I *won’t like*, setting as well as rating - wise. But I really gotta run! If this is too diffuse and you have more questions I can answer again, but it might take me a few days, I am so sorry about that! (and sorry if the english isn’t english-ing, I’d like to read this through but time is up!)

Just in general I am so happy to be participating!!! So getting your ask was a really happy moment as well!!

[mixsethaddams]

For a while, I was a Classics student. I loved it dearly but because of €€€ I had to drop out before finishing my degree. Part of the initial arts study was creative writing.

This was one of the pieces I wrote. It was the highest graded thing I ever made. So probably for the best that the Classics didn’t work out, if the CW assignments were where I was thriving.

Prompt: A Day On The Moors (max wordcount 1000 )

We were lucky with the weather. The morning had been bleak, with grey clouds imposing overhead, threatening to pour rain at any moment. Mum had yelled at me to “Take a jacket! You’ll catch your death if that day turns!” so I grabbed something on the way down the stairs to keep her happy, before dumping it in the hallway before I went out the door. As the cool air prickled at my arms, I wondered if the jacket really was a good idea. I’d spent a full week picking the perfect outfit for my day out with Gracie’s family for her sixteenth birthday and a jacket hadn’t factored into it, so I convinced myself that the breeze was refreshing, not biting, and sped up my walk towards her house.

“Make sure you look nice!” had been the instructions from Gracie’s parents. “We’re going on a picnic and we’ll take some lovely photos while we’re there.”

My blouse was white with red stitching and a red bow at the cap of the short sleeves, and my navy skirt swooshed around my knees with the wind. Mum had helped me twist my hair up into a neat bun and I felt pretty as a pin; sure that I’d fit right in to the photos with my friend and her family.

I had just rounded the corner when the first drop of rain hit my nose. I groaned and was about to run home for my jacket when I heard a car horn behind me. Gracie’s dad pulled over and I hopped into the backseat, squashing in with Gracie and our other friend Ness. Her mum was sitting in the front seat making marks on a map.

“Glad we caught you!” said Gracie’s dad. “We decided to leave a few minutes early to beat the traffic. Would have been a right shame to miss you”

The car was warm and smelled of the boiled sweets that Gracie’s mum was sucking on. The low hum of the radio was drowned out mostly by the engine, but her parents didn’t seem to mind.

“Where are we going?” I asked. Gracie and Ness just shrugged.

“Mum says somewhere really special,” said Gracie. “But I think it’s a swamp”

“A swamp?” asked Ness. “I thought it was a park!”. She had always been afraid of anything that was too ‘dirty’ and always moaned about being clean. It was endearing once you got to know her.

I saw a road sign pointing the way out of the city and into the countryside, and the car lurched as we merged onto the motorway.

“I didn’t know we’d be leaving town” I whispered to my friends. “Mums not expecting me home late”

“She won’t mind,” said Gracie. “She knows you’re with us”

“Yeah, we’re all here together!” reassured Ness. “Come on, we’ll play I Spy”

I don’t remember much else of the car journey up here. We stopped at a service station and then everyone was quiet.

Gracie’s dad helped me out of the car and into the sunshine. I was glad to be out after being covered up for so long, with my leg pressed awkwardly against a spade. Her mum had cooed some nice words to me when she had put the blanket over my head but I don’t think she meant them.

“Pretty girl,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair back behind my ear. I was laying on the picnic blanket beside Gracie and Ness. The pins in my hair had come undone at the station but I couldn’t fix them. I wanted to cry for the effort my mum had put into getting them just right, but I couldn’t do that now either. Gracie’s parents had started to take their photos.

“Little dolls at a tea party” mumbled her Dad, readjusting Ness’s shoe. The strap broke when she was lifted from the boot, it had caught on Gracie’s hand and snapped in half. I was glad it wasn’t raining out here like it was at home. I never liked the rain, and lying here in it would have been awfully uncomfortable. Besides, all the mud would have upset Ness. Yes, the sun was best for now, I think.

After they finished with the camera, they started to dig with the spade that had been beside me in the car. It was almost night-time before they were ready.

Gracie went in first. Her milky white skin looked even brighter beside the dark soil. Ness was next. My soul ached for my dear, clean friend, surrounded by dirt. If I listened closely, I could hear her own soul screaming at the very thought of it. I wanted to get up and run, but my body couldn’t hear me anymore.

Now was my turn to be lowered in beside my friends. The earth slowly came up around us as the hole was filled. I heard the final pat-pat-pat of the shovel on top of me, and some dragging noises as wreaths of heather were moved on top of us. On the surface, the landscape would still appear untouched. The car rumbled away back towards the road. What would they tell my mum?, I thought. If I had taken the extra minute to put on my jacket, would I be here? I should have kept running when I first felt the rain.

I remembered Ness’s words of reassurance as I tried to find comfort in my eternity. “We’re all here together!”

[liiilyevans]

Hello

For the Ship Ask Game: Basic

I have a few I wanted to ask, if you don’t mind sharing your thoughts 🥺 for Romione

8) What do they love the most about the other? Why?

15) What songs remind you of their relationship?

1) where was their first date ( not the correct wording since I couldn’t copy and paste it 🤦‍♀️)

I’d love to hear what you think of this couple, also wanted to say that I love your letter entries for Weasley Fest.

It was so creative and beautifully done. I just hope Molly didn’t see Ginny’s letter to Charlie 😆,

Also, Percy’s letter is very sweet. You wrote his self doubt very well and his letter was so formal yet brotherly ❤️ love it so much.

Thanks for creating something amazing, did you use a certain app to create the letter doc background? That was very cool 😎

Sorry for the late and semi long message. I hope you have a great night

ship asks

First off, thank you so much! I used Canva to create the letters. I just found different pictures of parchment online and used different fonts to create their handwriting. I'm so glad you enjoyed them! Now, onto the ask game.

What do they love the most about the other? Why?

So, Hermione loves how caring Ron is. We see this in the scene with the house elves. She loves his attention to detail because Ron Weasley pays attention. I've said this before but I'll say it again. Ron is super smart, practically not book smart, and when he puts work into something, he puts in work. Hermione really values that about him. As for Ron, he loves that Hermione's quirks, like how she won't fold the corners of her books, and has special bookmarks for the different types of books she reads or how she has to have the dishes down just so. They're annoying at first, but they come to be so endearing to him.

What songs remind you of their relationship?

I'll give you three because I have quiet a few. Perfect by Ed Sheeran Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift Next to Me by Emeli Sande

Describe their first date.

So, after the war once Hermione has her brought her parents home, Ron doesn't officially take her out on a date until the middle of the summer. They've just gotten finished with all the funerals and everyone is hurting, especially the Weasleys. Well, Ron wants to get out of the Burrow and he takes Hermione to a small little town about ten miles from the Burrow. They got to a family owned diner and act like a normal couple for once. The waitress comments on how cute they are, and Ron thinks about how good it feels to not be on the run.

[the1975attheirverybest]

What would it be like to go to a photo shoot with Matty?

Ooooh. Good question.

Are we talking, like, an external photo shoot for like a magazine or something?

Or are we talking about a Dirty Hit photo shoot for album or tour promo? Cuz I feel like those would be two slightly different things (side note: can we talk about the boys running their own label, guys? I just think that’s so fucking cool. Like imagine Matty making all these adult decisions and meeting with artists and stuff….)

If it’s for a magazine, I think he might be just a tad uncomfortable. A bit shy. Not sure what to do with himself cuz he doesn’t like being taken outside of context and gets protective over the band’s image when there’s a bunch of strangers involved. He wants to be professional and courteous and all, but he’s a bit in his head about it. So, maybe they take a second to re-set or adjust the light or whatever, and you walk over to him to help calm him down. You give him a quick hug or you say something that you know will make him laugh, and there’s a small intimate moment where he seems to finally be himself, and that’s when the photographer quickly snaps a picture. It’s spontaneous and unplanned and genuine. They don’t even know if they’ll use it cuz it’s REAL Matty and it’s soft and sweet and he looks slightly boyish. not the regular, public persona he puts on. The photo ends up being framed in your home.

If it’s Dirty Hit business….well that shit would be the most unhinged. EVERYONE is there. The guys, their partners, their team, Patricia picking out clothes, directors, Matty shouting out ideas and everyone scrambling to make them happen. He jumps behind the camera sometimes, hovers over everyone and directs a little too much. It’s chaotic and crowded but fun and creative. You find yourself having to help the crew stick to the schedule by steering the boys away from their shenanigans and whatever tangent they’re off on. You don’t have to be delicate and polite cuz basically everyone around is family so you’re just like “Matty, babe, stop fucking around and listen!” Or “I think they’re too kind to say it, so I will: they know what they’re doing. Stop being a control freak.” And they all laugh and give you grateful looks and it’s all very, um, disorganized but that’s where the best work actually happens.

[yukidragon]

Is there any picture of Alice’s family? It would be cool to see them or doodle an idea what they look like :0

Sadly, I haven't been able to draw for a while now due to health reasons, and it might be a while longer before I can again. (Don't worry, it's nothing serious.) A friend of mine offered to draw the oldest three King girls for me though, which is super sweet of her.

I have made picrews of some of the family members to serve as a general idea to work from when I do eventually draw them. It's what I did before drawing Alice's concept sheet too. I find picrews to a good place to consider character appearance in broad strokes.

I'll share some of those picrews with you all if you're curious about my current general ideas. Remember, their designs (and some of their names) aren't completely set in stone yet, as I still need to draw them when I can. This just helps me better get a picture in my mind of what they look like.

As a heads up, each individual picrew can be pretty limited in its options. Sometimes skin tone, eye color, hair type, etc. just won't match with the look I'm going for. These are just the picrews that come closest to what I have in mind right now.

First up is Mama King, who I'm considering naming Lycoris or Lily.

Picrew

Soft, sweet, cuddly, short of stature but big of heart, Mama King absolutely loves her family more than anything else in the world. There's nothing she won't do to protect them and what they love.

Mama King is not only a great mother, but she's also fantastic at growing plants and has won many awards over the years. This is what led to a pretty good business online selling flowers that have been made into charming jewelry and other forms of art by her creative and loving spouse.

The family home has a decent sized plot of land to allow Mama to grow as many plants as she likes. Her gardens are truly a sight to behold, and her one of a kind flowers are to die for.

As you might have guessed, Alice has gotten a few features from her mom, such as her height, curly hair, and her wonderfully soft and cuddly hugs. The coloration, however, was something she inherited from her Papa.

Picrew

I'm still trying to decide on Papa King's name, but I've got a pretty solid idea of what he looks like. Tall, slender, and pale, this proud papa stands out in a crowd, though sometimes under some shade with sunscreen and shades on if it's someplace out in the sunlight. Sadly, being albino means you're more prone to sunburns, and his eyes are more sensitive than most. The picrew can't really give what I have in mind justice, but their eyes are a mixture of pale blue and red due to the lack of pigment.

Papa King is a sensitive soul who loves creating stylish trinkets and jewelry. He struggles with conflict, so their wife is his knight in shining armor much of the time, and that's one of the reasons why they fell in love with her. He also loves their wonderful children, as well as all the cats and dogs the family own. Though quite the homebody, his life is very full with such a busy house and their creative projects, as well as running the business he owns with their wife.

The oldest child of the King family probably doesn't really need an introduction. I mean, I drew Alice and mentioned her on this tumblr plenty of times before. Still, it feels sad to leave her out, so here's a picrew of her and Jack holding hands and dressed for a date.

Picrew

Why yes I'm shameless about my OTP. Welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy the sweet vanilla and spice.

Eventually I'll make a post with the picrews that I used to help me make Alice's concept sheet, but that's for another time. Now onto the next child in this big, happy family.

Picrew

The second oldest was named Barbara Anne, but you'd be forgiven for not knowing that, as everyone calls her Barbie, with her siblings sometimes just calling her Bar. (Alice was the one who first started using that particular nickname when they were very little and it just stuck around.)

Barbie is practically the opposite of her sweet and doting parents. She's a prickly, snarky, and sarcastic misanthrope who prefers animals and 2D characters to humans. Her personality and large stature are usually enough to ward people off. She's taken after her dad with her height and her mom with having a larger frame. Though she's a nerdy otaku, if she hits you, it's going to hurt.

Barbie isn't shy to let people know to back off and leave her alone, quick to deliver barbs and tease others mercilessly if they don't buzz off. Still, like any true tsundere, get past her prickly exterior and there's a softer side that's full of genuine love and affection waiting underneath. The only people she cares about currently are her family and the few friends she made online... and eventually a suitor who is going to need to be a good boy and heel at her command if he wants a chance of making puppies with her.

The most striking thing about Barbie is her eyes. She has central heterochromia, which means both of her eyes are a mixture of brown and blue, not unlike how Papa King's are a mixture of red and blue. She practically lives in t-shirts and sweatpants, which often are themed around anime and games she likes, or offensive snark. Her hair is always a mess, and she keeps it cropped short most of the time so that she doesn't have to bother with it.

Barbie is good with computers and isn't above a little hacking or trolling. Though she's moved out of the King house, she's doing just fine in her own apartment, making money by scamming crypto scammers and the like, among other more legitimate and actually legal jobs.

Don't tell anyone about her secret double life as a streamer with a cutesy anime waifu virtual avatar. She'll make your life hell if you do.

Picrew

Next up is Coraline. I already made a post talking about her and showing off a few of her picrews, so I'll just lightly touch on what I have in mind for her design. She's average height (making her a little taller than big sis Alice), with brown eyes, looks very sickly, and while most of her very curly hair is brown, it lacks some pigment in places. She still lives at home due to her health, and every morning Mama braids her hair up nice and neat, only for it to eventually come increasingly undone and messy by the end of the day. She favors comfortable clothes like sweaters and sweatpants.

The most signature piece of Coraline's look is her pendant. I've actually mentioned the pendant before in a previous post... or at least Alice's version of the pendant and the fact that each King child got one when they were born.

Mama King proposed to Papa with a bouquet of blue roses that she grew specially for them . Blue roses are said to be an impossible flower naturally, very rare, and growing them was her way of showing that she loved him enough to do the impossible for them. Papa preserved each one of the flowers in resin and whenever they're expecting a child, he crafts one into a custom necklace for the child, which is engraved with the baby's name and the date of their birth after they're born.

As an aside, if one of the kids ever wanted to change their name for whatever reason, Papa would be more than happy to alter the inscription to their new name.

The rest of the kids are vague as of the moment, but I know there are at least 4 more of them. They'll be fleshed out eventually over time, along with the pets and any other details about this happy family.

I hope you liked what I've got to share with you so far about the King family, and thanks for showing interest in them. I'm always happy to know that people enjoy my OCs. 💖

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[setaripendragon]

I Want To Be Free - Chapter 0

This AU came to me nearly ten years ago. It didn't have a plot, just a vague idea of 'horror-esque One Piece' smashing into my other favourite fandom; Supernatural. So I put it away. Then OPLA came along and drop-kicked me back into the One Piece fandom a decade later, and suddenly, the ideas for how this AU would actually go started pouring in. Idk how far I'm going to get with this, I'm still pretty stuck on a lot of 'but what would the other Straw Hats actually be' (which, if you have any ideas, drop a comment/some tags/an ask/whatever!), but I've got rough notes for another couple of chapters, I think? Also, yes, I did play around a lot with the names to make them more real-world-y -waves creative liscence- I did it because it's fun, and gives me cool opportunities to play with worldbuilding, and I felt like it.

Prologue - Seven Years Ago

It’s early, but Didi is used to rising with the sun. Early to bed, early to rise, as they say! Besides, getting up early means no one, not even her husband, sees her without her face on, and she can make herself presentable in peace.

Face on, hair done, but still in her dressing gown, she leaves the en suite and heads downstairs to get breakfast started. Always good to remind the help that you’re watching, after all, else they might run off with the silver. As she passes the nursery, noises catch her attention, and she pauses, listening intently.

Voices. That’s voices. Plural. And while she wouldn’t put it past that useless boy to start talking to himself, since he’s never missed a moment to shame their family, Stacy is still a bit too young to be talking back!

Didi flings the door open, panic and outrage fighting a war in her breast. Outrage wins when she spots that little demon hanging half in the window on the opposite side of the room. He’s already tainted her first son with his filthy common ways, so to see him so close to the ornate crib holding her second precious child is infuriating.

Thankfully, he still seems focused on Sabino, standing like an idiot in the middle of the room, entirely undignified in an appalling mismatch of pyjamas and street clothes and formal attire, his mouth gaping open at her entrance. Hopeless boy! Useless! After all they’ve done for him, all the effort they’ve put into straightening out his life, and he doesn’t even have the decency to send this demon-child running before he put his grubby little hands all over Didi’s windowsill?!

“You-!” she shrieks furiously, waking poor Stacy and setting him to wailing in alarm. How dare that awful boy distress her poor sweet baby so?! Sabino snaps his mouth shut at last, but only to replace it with the most ugly glower.

This! This is all that little demon’s influence. And he’s just hanging there, watching her without so much as a hint of deference for his betters. It puts a tremble in Didi’s hands that she tells herself is entirely rage. “Get out! Get out of my house! I’m calling the police!”

“No.”

The sun is rising over the neighbour’s roof behind the boy. It sets his face in shadow, save for an odd cat-like gleam of white for the briefest of seconds where his eyes should be. Didi jerks backwards, hits the wall, and realises what just happened. “HOW DARE YOU?!”

“I’m not leaving without Sabo. You can’t keep him,” the filthy little creature insists.

Didi laughs, sharp and mocking and furious. What a stupid little boy, trying to insist the world be the way he wants it to be, throwing this ridiculous little tantrum because someone took his favourite toy away. “Of course we can,” she sneers, lifting her chin. She can’t believe she let a little trick of the light unnerve her! “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time? He’s ours. Our son, our blood. He belongs to us, whether the ungrateful little brat likes it or not!”

“No, I don’t!”

Sabino glares up at her, hands balled into fists. Didi’s hand is in the air before the intent fully crosses her mind, fury driving her past rational thought, but before the slap can connect, the boy in the window shifts.

Sunlight spears her eyes, bright white and blinding. She redirects with a cry, flinging her arm across her face as she recoils, eyes screwed shut against the sudden assault.

An acrid scent hits her nose. She blinks rapidly, trying to see past the gleaming spots of white-yellow-orange that are drifting across her vision. What is that? It reminds her a little of that time she left her hair curler plugged in and it melted a divot into her hairdryer.

She sucks in a horrified gasp, and promptly chokes on the smoke as she recoils. The doorknob jams painfully into her hip, but that’s fine! That means she knows where it is!

She spins and grabs for it, but the stupid thing won’t turn, her hands too sweaty to get proper traction on the shiny metal. She told Sabinus they ought to have gotten handles instead of knobs!

Something thuds across the room, and Didi whirls back around to see the window is shut, the demon boy gone, and Sabino along with him. Stacy is still crying, but there’s a wall of flame licking across the carpet between them, and she can’t reach him. The spots are fading, finally, but that’s no use when the room is quickly filling with black, acrid smoke.

Pain sears up the side of her leg, and she jerks away from the fire, only to realise it’s coming with her; the hem of her dressing-gown already alight. Flames lick eagerly up the velvet and silk, eating through to her skin in seconds.

Didi screams.

-

“Hey, boys. Think I got something for you.”

Sam sits up a little straighter in the passenger seat of the Impala, which gets Dean’s attention. He pauses his off-beat drumming on the steering wheel as he glances over, thank god. He even turns the music down, which is surprisingly considerate of him. “Yeah? What you got, Ash?”

“A fire in a nursery,” Ash deadpans.

“What? Where?!”

“East coast. Up near Boston. I’ll text you the address.”

“Alright,” Sam agrees, then lowers the phone to mouth ‘Boston’ at Dean, who nods, and takes the next turning eastward. “When did it happen?”

“Last night. Saw it in the news this morning,” Ash explains. “Checked my scanner, and sure enough, weather’s going haywire out there. There was supposed to be a storm rolling in, but instead they’re getting a nice little localised heatwave.”

Sam frowns thoughtfully. After all this time, he has everything his dad recorded about Yellow-Eyes’ patterns memorised, and that… “Doesn’t Yellow-Eyes cause storms, rather than stopping them?”

That gets Dean’s attention, but Sam is too busy thinking and listening to Ash to respond to his increasingly intense, irritated looks and gestures. “Yeah. Well, and wild fluctuations in temperature, so this could just be the opening salvo. Who knows, man?”

Dean gives up trying to get his attention, and simply floors the gas pedal. Sam shoots him a grateful look, to which Dean responds by flipping him off. Jerk. “Any survivors?”

“The dad and the kid. Mother and older brother both died in the fire.”

“Yikes.” Sam grimaces. “Well, thanks, Ash. We’ll get right on it,” he says, subdued, and Ash hangs up without so much as a goodbye. A moment later, Sam’s phone chimes with an incoming text. He rattles it off to Dean, along with the rest of the information Ash had relayed. By the end, Dean looked grim.

“Shit, this is the first time we’ve had a kid get caught in the crossfire of one of these.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, we’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

-

“This place is giving me hives,” Dean mutters under his breath as they’re shown through a gilded foyer into a lavish receiving room, where a portly man in a stuffy suit with the saddest little moustache Dean has ever seen in his life is standing stiff-backed in front of a huge bay window, bandage-wrapped hands clasped behind his back like he thinks he’s the tragic hero in a period drama.

Sam hisses at him and steps on his foot, to which Dean only rolls his eyes. He lets Sam spin the spiel about being FBI, wanting his side of the story, take his time, in his own words, blah blah blah, while Dean lets his eyes wander the room.

This house is fucking pristine. You wouldn’t know from looking at it that there’d been a fire here last night. Hell, you wouldn’t know there were supposed to be two kids under the age of sixteen here, either. There are delicate porcelain and glass figurines out on display, there’s no sign of anything that might possibly be mistaken for a toy, not a single thing out of place or wrinkled or messy at all. Hell, the carpet’s white.

“As I told your colleagues earlier today,” the man sniffs disdainfully at them, only half turned towards them in a display that makes Dean’s hackles rise instinctively. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Anything you can tell us,” Sam says patiently.

“I’ve already been over this! Can’t you people do your jobs without needing your hands held through the entire process? Get the report from the last lot of you incompetent louts, rather than harassing a grieving widower!”

“We’re from a different department,” Sam says, patiently. “We have to conduct our own investigation from the ground up, I’m afraid. If you could please answer the question, we’ll do our best to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

The man huffs, blustery and impatient. “I woke up to my wife screaming, and our son crying. The nanny was already at the nursery when I got there, but the door was stuck. The doorknob was hot enough to burn me when I tried it.” He lifts one hand in demonstration. “Someone pulled me away – I’m not certain who – when smoke began to fill the hallway. Then the fire brigade arrived.”

“You couldn’t get into the room at all?” Dean asks, frowning a little.

“No,” the man snaps impatiently. “Like I said, the door was jammed. The fire department had to break it down to get inside. It’s going to cost a fortune to replace. It was solid mahogany.”

It takes everything Dean has not to say ‘your wife and son are dead and you’re worried about the cost of the damn door?’

“And when they did, your wife, was she still alive at the time, or…?”

“How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t standing around gawking like some common pleb. They informed me that my son was alive and being taken to hospital, so I assume not, or they would have mentioned it.”

Dean makes a mental note to get the reports from the fire brigade, since apparently Mr Saddest Moustache over there was too busy having a bracing cup of tea to give a shit about his wife or sons. “Your son. Was that-” Sam glances down at his dorky little notebook like he actually needs to check. Maybe he does; the names in this family are whack. “Stacy or, uh, Sabino?”

Who the hell calls their son Stacy?

“Stacy, of course,” the man huffs.

Of course?

“Do you know if Sabino was-”

“I already said I don’t!” the man snaps.

Sam plasters an entirely fake smile across his face. “Of course. Alright, well, I’m sorry for taking up your time, Mr Outlook, we’ll just-”

“The third,” the man interrupts, bristling.

“…Excuse me?”

“I am Sabinus Stacy Godefroy Outlook the Third, and I’ll thank you to remember it!”

Dean barely manages to choke back a laugh and turn it into a small coughing fit. He has to turn away, so he doesn’t see whatever expression Sam is making, but he can hear the straining of his composure in his voice when he says, “Alright, Mr Outlook the Third, we just need to have a quick look at the scene, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Mr Sabinus Stacy Godefroy Outlook the Third sniffs at them. “Have the housekeeper show you up, I can’t bear to look at that room anymore,” he declares in tragic tones. Dean wonders if it’s the charred remains of his family that bother him, or the cost of replacing his fancy carpet.

-

The nursery is… Well, there definitely was a fire, but beyond the charring, it looks nothing like Sam’s expecting it to. For a start, the room’s still in tact. The ceiling is soot-stained and spotted with patches where the paint has obviously been singed, but it’s very clearly not the origin point. No, that’s on floor. There’s a small, lopsided hole in the wood under the melted remnants of the carpet, with edges that look like they’ve been seared, right in the middle of the burnt area.

If it weren’t for the pattern of said area, Sam might have wondered if there was anything supernatural about this fire at all. Except the fire very conspicuously did not spread into the area around the crib. Everything else is scorched black, melted or charred or some ugly combination of both, but there’s a wobbly semi-circle around the baby’s crib, and everything within it is untouched, if lightly speckled with soot.

Perhaps the fire was natural, but something wanted that baby to survive.

That something equally clearly didn’t care about the other occupant of the room. The child’s bed tucked into the corner next to the door is… well, it’s honestly hard to tell it was a bed. It’s a mangled lump of charred wood and melted plastic. Dean crouches down next to it and pokes at it with a pen he must have stolen from somewhere else in the house, because no way does he have anything that fancy just hanging about in his pocket.

He uses the pen to shift a stubborn little scrap of fabric that breaks apart into tinier pieces at the prodding, and frowns deeply. “Was the other kid in bed when the fire started?” he asks as he rises from his crouch.

“I would assume so,” the housekeeper says indifferently.

“I have it here that the eldest son – Sabino – he was thirteen?” Sam checks.

“That’s correct.”

Sam looks at the housekeeper, then down at the bed that could at most be four feet in length, and then back up at the housekeeper again with an expectant expression. “And this was his bed?” he presses.

“Yes,” the housekeeper says stiffly, chin kicking up, her level stare turning into something a little closer to a glare. Like she’s daring Sam to keep pressing the point.

“Exactly how tall was he, again?” Sam asks, meeting the woman stare for stare.

“I don’t see how that is at all relevant to catching the monster that killed Master Sabino,” the housekeeper retorts.

“You sure they did?” Dean interjects, making the both of them jump and turn to stare at him. Dean raises an eyebrow at the housekeeper.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t see any variation in the burn pattern, no smearing, no evidence of a struggle… And believe me, lady, when someone’s on fire, they don’t sit still about it.” Dean states grimly. Sam takes another, closer look, and sure enough, there aren’t even marks that would indicate where they body had been, and there should be.

“Perhaps he was already unconscious from the smoke,” the housekeeper says coldly.

“Uh-huh.” Dean says, heavy with scepticism. “Sure.”

-

Silence swells to fill the Impala once Sam and Dean slam their respective doors shut. Dean doesn’t know about Sam, but he needs a moment to process all the gold-plated shit they’d uncovered in that ugly fucking house. “That,” he says after a moment, “is one fucked up family.”

Sam blows out a harsh breath. “Yeah.”

“Was I the only one getting the vibes that Mr Sabinus Stacy Godefroy Outlook the Third,” Dean recites in the most pompous voice he can manage and Sam snorts a laugh without much feeling behind it, “wanted his kid to be dead?”

“I can’t tell if I think they’re covering up the fact that he isn’t, or if they’re covering up the fact that he is, it just wasn’t the fire that killed him,” Sam replies, darkly amused.

“What do you mean, covering up the fact that he isn’t? Why would they cover that up?” Dean asks, startled. He’s already pretty solidly convinced that Mr Saddest Moustache, or perhaps the late Mrs Saddest Moustache, offed the kid themself and is using the fire as a way to explain his death.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam says impatiently. When Dean doesn’t react with miraculous new understanding, he rolls his eyes. “You can’t argue that this-” He waves his hand towards the house. “-doesn’t quite fit Yellow-Eyes’ MO.”

“Fire in the nursery, dead mom, six-month old baby…”

“Except the fire didn’t start on the ceiling. There was someone else apparently in the room the whole time and it was only as the mum came in that the fire started? And the crib was untouched. If I remember your stories right, Dad had to grab me out of my crib because it was on fire just like everything else!”

“Okay, so what’s your point?”

“So what if Yellow-Eyes wasn’t the one to start the fire?” Sam asks.

Dean blinks. Stares out of the windshield as that idea slots into place. “You think this Sabo kid started the fire?” he checks, a little dubious.

“You saw how everyone in that house was acting, same as I did. You saw that bed, too. Who makes a thirteen year old sleep in a nursery with a literal baby, in a bed meant for a four year old?” Sam demands.

Turning that over in his mind, Dean starts the car and sets off for a less skin-crawling part of town. “You think the kid set his own mom on fire and then, what, ran away?”

“Well, yeah. Maybe… maybe not on purpose,” Sam hedges quietly. “If he’s… got some ability to control fire, then it would explain why it didn’t touch the baby, wouldn’t it? If it went out of control because he was scared or- or angry, but he managed to keep it away from his brother? And it would explain why no one wants to admit to it. That’s one image-conscious household, and ‘tragically dead’ is a much better look than ‘child arsonist reacting to abuse’.”

Dean has to give him that one.

-

“So get this,” Sam say, and ignores Dean’s groan as he peels his eyes open from where he fell asleep still mostly dressed with several stolen copies of police reports splayed across his chest. “This isn’t the first time around here that there’s been a weird fire followed by a heatwave in which a kid went missing,” he declares, and slaps his compiled research down on Dean’s chest.

Grumbling, Dean squints down and opens the file. On top there is a print-out of a newspaper article that reads ‘Freak Heatwave Starts Fire in Junkyard’ and is dated around three years ago. “Anyone die?” Dean asks as he leafs through the rest of it.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Sam says smugly. Then he falters as the reality of the answer dawns on him. “Quite a lot of people, actually. At least one of them was a suspected child trafficker, and several of the others were noted in the investigation as having ‘close ties’ to this James Blue person.”

“So more dead shitheads. Any conspicuous survivals?”

“Well, as far as I can tell, which isn’t certain because whoever did the investigation clearly didn’t care, the Junkyard was a safe haven for the homeless, but there’s no mention of any of them getting caught in the fire,” Sam explains, pulling a face. “There’s no John Does, and all the bodies have residences listed.”

“Not ironclad,” Dean mutters, but he’s clearly not expecting more. Sam pulls a face at him anyway. “What about this guy?” he asks, flicking a finger at the hospital report Sam had stuffed in at the back.

“That’s the weird thing,” Sam says.

Dean’s waking up properly now, and Sam can see the minute he actually reads the hospital report. “What the fuck? Dude loses an arm and just… fucks off outta the hospital the next day?”

“And then he drops off the radar. I can’t find any records of this guy, before or after. He just… poof.” Sam snaps his fingers. “He gave a statement saying he was in the Junkyard to look for the kid of a friend of his – that’s how he lost the arm, apparently, something fell on him and he took it rather than let it hit the kid – but that kid is marked down as having died in the fire. I checked the morgue reports.”

“No kid-sized bodies?”

“No kid-sized bodies.”

Dean stares at the file Sam put together, face screwing up in consternation. “And no sign of Armless here anywhere near the Outlook Estate,” he mutters, putting on a voice as he names the house. Sam doesn’t want to admit he finds Dean’s stubborn insistence in mocking the airs that family’s giving itself at every opportunity funny, but he really does.

“No sign of him anywhere. Check the end of his statement,” Sam adds, jerking his chin towards the file.

Dean glances up, then goes back to reading. He frowns. “What about it?”

“The bit about the kid,” Sam sighs.

Slowly, Dean’s frown turns from baffled to more serious. “He was really damn sure the kid was alive and okay when the paramedics turned up, wasn’t he?” he says slowly, looking up at Sam. Sam nods. “But everything else says he was among the dead,” Dean adds.

“And the one dissenting voice disappears the very next day,” Sam concludes.

Dean groans and drops the file into his lap to scrub his hands over his face. “So we’ve got a firestarter who hates child abusers but spares the homeless and kidnaps children but leaves the baby, and a mysterious badass who disappears after drawing attention to all this… Is this all starting to feel a bit… Neverland to you?”

“What, like some sort of fae spirit collecting lost and abused children and murdering people on the way out with its prize?” Sam asks.

“Well, yeah,” Dean agrees ruefully. “I can’t think of anything else that fits this mess,” he complains, whapping the file with the back of his hand. “Stealing children could be a Lamia, even killing men on the way out, but that doesn’t explain the mom.”

“And Lamias don’t like fire,” Sam adds.

Dean nods distractedly. “What do we know besides demons that can start fires like this?” he asks, baffled.

“Uh… witches?” Sam guesses. “Or… maybe psychics.”

“What, you mean like you?” Dean asks sharply.

Sam nods. “You said it yourself, Dean. The one thing we know can start fires is Yellow-Eyes, and… look at what Max did. It’s not too farfetched to think that if someone got fire powers, they might go all vigilante about it.”

“Except this is three years ago,” Dean reminds him, gesturing to the file. “Your whole Shining shtick didn’t start until last year, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Sam snaps, a little bitter at the reminder.

Dean gives him the hairy eyeball, but doesn’t press the point, to Sam’s relief. “Alright, I suppose we better go see if we can find anything left at the Junkyard, and then maybe try and shake some more information out of this first kid’s family. I thought I saw something about a grandfather in there…” Dean muses as he shoves the mess of paperwork aside and gets up with a spine-cracking stretch before heading for the bathroom.

“Yeah, but he’s actual FBI. I’m thinking we don’t want to go poking that dragon,” Sam calls ruefully through the door Dean left open. Dean grunts through his toothpaste. “We’d have more luck with the foster sister, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Patricia Makino. She owns a bar down by the docks.”

-

“Welcome to Party’s Bar! Can I get you two anything?”

The woman behind the bar looks like she could have stepped right out of Dean’s favourite magazine, if with considerably more clothes on. Pretty, dark haired, Asian, and somehow managing to look like she just stepped out of an idyllic ranch in the middle of nowhere. She even has a cute patterned kerchief tied over her hair. “Two beers and the name of the pretty lady serving them to us?” Dean asks with his most charming grin.

“Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask for someone’s name without offering your own first?” the woman fires back, unimpressed and gently chiding, even as she goes to pour them a couple of beers.

“I’m Sam, the idiot’s my brother Dean,” Sam offers.

“Makino,” she replies. So this is the woman they’re looking for. Probably. When Dean saw the name of the bar, he’d assumed she preferred to go by Patty, but apparently not.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam says politely. Dean toasts the woman with his beer to echo the sentiment, and Sam rolls his eyes and gives Makino a commiserating look. “Brothers, am I right?” he asks, long-suffering.

Makino huffs a laugh. “They are a handful.”

“Spoken like an older sibling,” Dean says knowingly. “Don’t let this one fool you, he’s got pretty manners, but he’s really a troublemaker.”

“Oh, I know one like that, too,” she agrees, smiling more warmly. “He’s always forgetting that I’m the one who taught him those manners, so I can see right through them.”

Sam snorts, grinning with easy amusement. “Well, that wouldn’t work for Dean. He’d have to have manners before he could teach them to anyone else.”

“Hey,” Dean protests, pointing accusingly at Sam. “I raised you best as I knew how, gave you the clothes off my back and the food from my plate, and this is how you thank me? By dissing me in front of a pretty lady?”

Makino laughs when Sam splutters indignantly. Excellent. She’s relaxing into their easy banter, which should make it easier to get some answers out of her. “Little brothers are naturally skilled at cock-blocking, I’ve found,” she tells him.

“And here I thought that was just Sam,” Dean grouses, to another indignant yelp. “Your little brother is just as good at picking exactly the wrong moment, then?”

“Oh, yes. Entirely by accident, of course, but still…” She sighs dramatically, but there’s a fond, wistful smile on her face that suggests she’s not as mad about it as she’s pretending to be. “It didn’t help that he thought my date was just the coolest person ever and always wanted all of his attention for himself.”

Dean snorts. “Sounds like he’s quite a bit younger than you, huh? I don’t think Sam ever thought any of my dates were cool.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you have bad taste, not because of my age,” Sam mutters.

“More than ten years,” Makino confirms as though she couldn’t hear him, though her smirk tells a different story. That matches up to what Dean knows about her and the first missing kid from the files. It’s also not the reaction of a woman who’s beloved younger brother died three years ago.

They can’t seem to get her to talk about that, though. She’s quite happy to tell story after story about her little brother in between serving the other customers that wander through at irregular intervals, but it’s as though he’s just in the back room and could be scampering out to cause more trouble at any moment. She makes absolutely no mention of the junkyard fire, the armless man, or the kid’s disappearance.

Dean eventually gets frustrated enough to bring up – in the sparsest detail he can manage – saving his own little brother from a fire when they were younger. Makino barely reacts, but she does react. There’s the tiniest little flinch at the mention of the fire.

“Sorry,” Dean says, feigning a grimace. “Bit grim, isn’t it? I guess that fire that’s been in the news lately stirred up old memories.”

“Ah, yes. The Outlook place,” Makino agrees. “Tragic, that.”

She doesn’t actually sound very sincere. “You knew them?” Sam asks curiously.

“Oh, not personally,” Makino says, a little too quickly. “People like them are a dime a dozen around here- Well, not around here,” she laughs, waving a hand around at the bar, and Dean has to admit, this is definitely the sort of place that Sabinus Stacy Godefroy Outlook the Third would turn his pointy little nose up at. “But there’s a lot of old blood over in High Town that like to give themselves airs.”

“Rich people,” Dean mutters in disgust, and Makino grimaces in agreement.

“Whether or not the lady deserved it, I can’t believe the kid was all that bad,” Sam interjects, giving Dean a faintly chiding look.

At that, Makino sobers. “No,” she says softly, and then shakes herself. “Although, you’d be surprised how absolutely awful some of those kids can be. When your parents can just buy your way out of any sort of trouble you make so that the consequences never touch you,I suppose it’s easy to start thinking the harm you do doesn’t matter.”

“That sounds personal,” Dean says.

Makino gives him a dry look. “When you’ve seen your little brother put in life-threatening danger multiple times because of those stuck-up pricks, you tend to hold a grudge.”

“Life-threatening danger?” Sam asks, all alarmed concern and puppy-eyes. “What happened?”

“Which time?” Makino asks pointedly.

“That Sabino kid wasn’t one of them, though, was he?” Dean asks instead of trying to get her to elaborate. They might be able to talk her around to the junkyard fire, but he can’t think of a reason to bring it up without seeming suspiciously well informed or suspiciously invested in someone else’s misfortune.

“No,” Makino relents with a sigh. “No, Sabo was a good kid. Always so generous despite what his parents tried to teach him. He deserves- sorry, deserved better than the Outlooks.”

Dean does his very best not to react to that, but there’s a whole world of implications in the fact that victim number two knew victim number one’s older sister. “You knew him?” Sam prompts curiously, and then tacks on a hasty, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I did. He was friends with my brother.”

Dean catches Sam’s eye at that. “It doesn’t worry you?” Dean asks, throwing subtlety out the window. She’s obviously hiding something, given her complete non-reactions to the very striking parallels, and they’re not going to get it out of her by dancing around the issue. Makino cocks her head at him inquiringly. “That both Luffy and Sabino disappeared the exact same way?”

It’s a mistake. Dean can see that the moment the words leave his mouth. Makino’s body language closes off entirely. “I don’t recall mentioning my little brother’s name,” she tells him coldly.

“We’re looking into the disappearances,” Sam hastens to explain. “Like Dean said, something similar happened to me when I was a kid, so we thought it might be the same- same person that-”

“That’s very noble of you,” Makino says, entirely insincere. “But I don’t like talking about those events. I think it’d be best if you left now.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want the monster that stole your brother to be stopped? Even after it stole another child just two days ago?” he asks judgementally.

“Hey! My daughter asked you to leave!”

Dean jumps back with a curse as a walking stick smacks down against the edge of the bar mere inches away from where his hand was resting. The guy wielding it raises it in the air again and waves it at him aggressively, apparently undaunted by the fact that Dean has a good foot on him and is at least sixty years younger.

“Mr Wu, you’ll dent the bar…” Makino complains fondly.

“Out! Get out!” Mr Wu gripes, wagging his stick at them, and then devolving into what Dean can only assume is a vitriolic blue streak. He can’t be sure because it’s entirely in Chinese. He backs up, as does Sam, and they end up being driven right out of the door by the old man and having the door slammed in their faces.

“So, the foster family definitely knows what’s going on,” Sam concludes.

“Definitely.”

“…Stake-out?”

“Stake-out.”

“Ugh.”

-

An entire week of surveillance and everything they can dig up about the family reveals absolutely nothing. Wu Paiji is, by all accounts, a pillar of the community. A grouchy old stickler, according to basically everyone that knows him, who runs the local community centre and has been fostering children for the last fifty years.

Patricia Makino was fostered at age seven, and five years later, gained a little brother when a baby was abandoned on the community centre’s front steps. She started working at what was then The Old Dog straight out of high school, and was left it when the previous owner passed only a couple of years later. Absolutely no one they speak to in the area has a single bad word to say about her.

In fact, several of them immediately turn hostile the moment they realise Sam and Dean are the ones that got kicked out of Party’s Bar. It ends in a couple of fights that only make their reputation around there worse. One woman, with a cloud of aggressively frizzy red hair and a build like she bench-presses trucks for a living, very nearly breaks Dean’s skull when she takes a swipe at him with an honest-to-god metal pipe.

When they get arrested for stalking and informed that Ms. Makino has agreed not to file for a restraining order if they get the hell out of town, they reluctantly go. Every other trail they tried to chase has gone cold. Neither the Outlooks nor Luffy’s foster family will speak to them. None of the official records have anything helpful to say. They don’t even have a clue what kind of creature could have done this.

It sticks in Sam’s craw, leaving the job unfinished, but there’s a hunt out in Ohio, and he knows that’s where they’re needed more. He does make a note to keep an eye on any fires that happen in that area, though. Just in case.

[amazing-spiderling]

Getting the Band Together director's cut please

Yeahhhhhh! Band AU! Band AU!

This was an exchange fic where I combined two prompts, both a song ("No Other Heart") and the concept of a band meet-cute. I haven't done much in the way of writing Band-centric stories, so I wasn't 100% sure what a meet-cute scenario would mean, but I gave it my best shot.

While I don't know a lot about bands or how they work behind the scenes, I took a stab at it, basing most of that stuff off of television an movie tropes, as well as what I observed in my wizard rock days, when I very occasionally helped volunteer to help with shows (because what else are you supposed to do if you own a moon bounce in a college town). It was a sweet taste of nostalgia for me, getting to revisit some of those memories.

I *also* got to give a little nod to one of my favorite art forms, the zine/band poster. I have a deep love of the texture of photocopies, so I had a lot of fun designing the (totally unnecessary) banner for the story, and playing around with the image until it had that indie rock show poster look. It might actually be my favorite part of fic. XD

Even though this story takes place during the gang's college years, it also let me brush up against their high school experiences, with Foggy talking a lot about how he perceived things back then, and how much things felt like they had changed for the others while he had remained largely the same. Maybe that's why he's so determined to seek out his own path in the end, it was his opportunity for a metamorphosis.

I really enjoyed getting to bring Marci and Brett into things, especially as more meaty side characters who are help driving the events of the story rather than just being convenient exes etc, Marci especially. While I think she's probably a very capable attorney, I think she's also got a streak of perfectionism, she's someone who would seek excellence in any whatever field she chose, and if she was artistically inclined, she wouldn't settle for anything less than "making it". But I think her self assurance also comes with a price- in this case, being oblivious to the feelings of her bandmates, and never really talking things out with them.

And of COURSE it's a Christmas story- or at least Christmas makes an appearance. Is it even a thelonebamf joint if people aren't drinking hot chocolate and running around in the cold? But I needed to get Foggy into a church and if the Nelsons ever make a go at observing any kind of religion, I imagine they're Easter-Christmas Catholics, or at least some of them are- but they are more importantly family oriented, so if Grandma wants to go to mass, they're going to mass.

AND PIANO MATT. Defenders was mediocre but it gave us Matt playing the piano and I just think that's neat. More people should find a way to include this in their story. As whatever as Defenders was, I think it was a cool way to give us some information about Matt's character besides exposition, and a unique way of uncovering a clue. LET MATT PLAY THE PIANO.

Anyways- those are some of my feelings on that fic. I ended up liking it quite a bit, I don't think there's much I'd change about it, or anything I wasn't able to fit in. It's probably not a story I would have written for myself, which is why I enjoy participating in exchanges- they force you to get creative!

[leviiackrman]

5, 6, 17, 31, 34 for Gigi for the oc ask

5. how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

Gigi is deffo a bit of both! Practicality and comfort come first, because when you’re on your feet working all day - you need to be comfy! But she deffo has her unique style of pairing quirky fits together so she tries to include that in her work outfits too! When waitressing and cleaning she has a uniform, but she’ll keep her jewellery on etc so she doesn’t look too plain haha! But appealing to the masses has also never been her thing and she’d rather satisfy herself than anyone else with her appearance!

6. how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

Gigi ALWAYS has her hair parted in the middle, and her go to hair do is twin braids! Tho this changes out depending on the weather/occasion! She also always wears a baseball cap (she has a few) so hat hair has become her usual look lmao

Generally she’ll make sure her hair is out of her face and reasonably well kept, but if she were to get paint or something similar in her hair, then she wouldn’t mind and would wash it out when she got home, but would rock the shit outta it while she was out haha!

17. how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

Her parents ran a mini cafe back in Sagada, Philippines and so she would always be so eager to help them out! Whether it be serving tables or running the till, she was always a familiar face for regulars at the cafe and almost a tourist attraction in of herself for those travelling through the v tourist heavy town! Everyone always talked about “the sweet little girl that greets everyone with a smile and runs the cafe” cus her dad was in the kitchen and her mum was doing coffees etc behind the counter!

If the shop was closed one day tho, she would be found doing something creative! Reorganising/decorating her room became a weekly occurrence and getting second hand furniture from her neighbours etc also became a hobby! She really enjoys fixer upper projects for items (especially furniture) so her family home became her canvas and her parents allowed/encouraged her to decorate as much as possible, so now their house is bright and colourful and still is to this day!

31. do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

Gigi is more of a giver than a receiver, but when she does receive gifts it makes her SO gooey!! She’ll never react rudely to any gift - even if it was just a blank piece of paper. She loves to know her people are thought of and so she’ll always do little things/get little things to cheer people up! Her ideal gift tho is something made, not bought. She treasures every single gift/card/artwork etc the boys make for her and has kept every single one (she’s even framed most artworks around the house) and encourages the 4 of them to do group projects so they can all say they’ve made it together! That’s the best gift to her <3

34. how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are

She’d say she was a bit giddy and a funny person! She doesn’t mind being funny in like a ‘oh shes strange’ kinda way, and she adores being able to make people laugh! Even tho she is the definition of optimistic and kind, she wouldn’t use those words herself. She sees optimism as a basic fundamental for people, so she wouldn’t think to describe herself like that because it’s almost her norm yknow?

COOL OC ASKS