#maybe i just like thinking that everyone’s handwriting is absolute chicken scratch

[buckyismybicycle]

Title: “sugar, spice and everything nice” [AO3 Link]   Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (Bucky x Nat and Bucky x Clint if you squint) Rating: Gen Summary/Notes: Cuddles, Tooth-rotting fluff, outsider POVs, Christmas Cookies, Deaf Clint Barton, Partially Deaf Steve Rogers, Amputee Bucky Barnes

For @cabottombingo - E3: “Didn’t know they were dating” (but not the way you think this is gonna go) @stuckybingo - B1: “AU: Coffee Shop”

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everyone! Please have some xmas cuddles and floofs. 

💖  OVERALL MASTERLIST

“Hi! Welcome to Purrfectly Brewed!” Janet chirps from behind the counter. She watches a stunning redheaded woman approach, her hand around the arm of a handsome brunette. They might just be the most devastating couple Janet has ever seen.

“Hi,” the woman says, her voice huskier than Janet expected. “Would you be able to make an iced latte with half the sugar, and with almond milk instead of whole milk?”

“Yes, absolutely! Can I get your name?”

“Natasha.”

The man beside her pipes up then. “Look, Nat.” He’s pointing at one of their several kittens, lounging on the arm of a cat tree by the window.

“Her name is Alpine,” Janet volunteers.

“She’s so…” The man trails off, seemingly forgetting what he was saying, though his eyes go soft and Janet has a pretty good idea of what’s happening. He’s falling for the little ball of fluff that’s sunbathing, her tail flicking occasionally.

“Can we also get two large coffees, both black, and a large caramel macchiato with extra caramel?” Natasha asks, sensing that she’s lost her companion to the snowball of fur.

Janet blinks, thrown off by the number of drinks to the number of customers ratio before nodding with her Customer Service Smile on. “Sure thing, coming right up.”

She sets the total, swings the machine around to face them and then hands Hope all four cups with her instructions and Natasha’s name written across them.

There’s a murmur of a language that definitely isn’t English, and she tries not to ogle when Natasha presses a kiss to the man’s temple. Sweet. Loving.

Looking like everything that Janet loves about rom-coms.

When the two leave, it’s Hope that blurts it out first. “Jesus, they’re hot.”

✧

“That was a cute shop, I bet Clint would really like it here,” Bucky says as they leave to walk back to their apartment. “Steve would too, I bet, if he liked cats.”

“Bet you twenty dollars I can get him to go with you in under a minute,” Natasha gloats.

Bucky knows better. He does. But that doesn’t stop him from smirking back. “You’re on, love.”

When they get home, she stands in front of the TV, blocking Steve’s view and signs very clearly. “Bucky fell in love with someone at the new cafe down the street.”

“How?!” Steve exclaims, sitting up and looking at Natasha before he raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “It’s been fifteen minutes, Buck.”

When Bucky opens his mouth to correct Steve, Nat places a finger over his lips. “I think Steve’s just gotta see for himself, don’t you think?”

When it’s settled that Steve will be going to the cafe and turns back to the TV, Bucky signs from behind him. “You evil woman.”

She blows a kiss back at him and he sighs in defeat.

✧

It’s a week and a half before Janet sees them again, and this time Scott is working the cash register. Janet peeks over Scott’s shoulder and spots the same brunette ordering drinks, but this time he’s with a shorter, slighter blonde.

Scott has a laugh with them before handing over two cups with the name “Bucky” on them. She thinks it’s strange, but then again, with Scott’s chicken scratch handwriting it could be just about anything.

She makes a caramel macchiato, and pours a latte with almond milk and half the sugar. Familiar.

“For… Bucky?” Janet calls.

Bucky, presumably, comes to claim their drinks, and doesn’t correct her. “Thanks!”

Huh. Maybe it is “Bucky” after all. Bucky has a very nice smile.

She watches Bucky hand over the latte and take a seat at their table, facing the cat tree. Bucky talks then, but his hands come up to sign, as well. Even though Janet is much too far to make out the words, it’s obvious the story is funny given the way the other man is stifling his laugh behind his own hands before signing back.

Janet thinks it’s so sweet. Had Bucky learned to sign, just for this? He seems so comfortable with it already.

“He’s so in love,” Scott says abruptly, startling Janet out of her thoughts.

She looks at the table again, trying to see what Scott sees. The way Bucky looks at Steve, with bright eyes and a smile to match — the way their feet are hooked around each other’s ankles? Janet has no choice but to agree, though she wonders what happened to Natasha.

“Yeah,” she says eventually. “S’too bad about Natasha, though.”

“Huh?” Scott asks, confused. “I was talking about the cat.”

“OH.”

✧

“Nat tells me you went to scope out Bucky’s new girl,” Clint hollers, hands flying as he signs, giddy. “I want to meet her too!”

“Well… She’s white.”

Clint scrunches his face, furrowing his brows at Steve and looking around the room. Surely, he hadn’t read that right.

At the confusion, Steve doubles over laughing, and can’t get himself straightened out to let Clint in on the joke.

Bucky finally comes over with a picture he’d taken of Alpine while they were sitting down.

“Oooooooooooh!” Clint exclaims. “That makes… Way more sense.”

✧

Hope is wiping down the tables when the chime above the door rings, and she looks up to see Natasha, but this time she’s not with Bucky. Even though Janet had filled her in during their last shift together, it still takes Hope by surprise. The sandy-blonde man, dressed like he’d fallen into a vat of grape juice, has a wide smile on his face and a peculiar band-aid across his chin.

Hope busies herself nearby just in case there's any juicy gossip to share with Janet while Scott handles the order at the counter.

“Two large coffees please, black” the man orders, taking out his wallet to pay, and batting Natasha’s hand away from where she’d been reaching into her bag.

“Easy peasy,” Scott sings, with that charming grin he gives all the customers. “Under what name?”

Even though Hope notices the hearing aid, the man doesn’t seem to miss a beat. “Clint.”

Oooooh. Hope stores that away for later. So, Natasha-not-with-Bucky is Natasha-with-Clint now, and Bucky-not-with-Natasha is Bucky-with-Blonde, it seems.

There’s a handful of people in the cafe right now, most of them are busy petting the cats around the shop, drinks long finished. Hope refills the cat’s water bowls, and when she gets to the cat tree, she stops to pet Alpine.

“These cats are all up for adoption, correct?”

Hope spins around and comes face to face with Natasha, whose green eyes are brighter than emeralds this close.

“Yes! Yeah, they are, of course,” Hope fumbles, watching Natasha’s eyes on Alpine. The very same cat that Hope knows Bucky has been eyeing.

Oh no.

“That’s great to hear,” Natasha says, smiling softly like she isn’t stealing away Bucky’s best buddy at this cafe. “I’d like to adopt this one please.”

OH NO.

✧

“She didn’t!” Janet gasps the moment Hope tells her. Janet’s eyes are wide and she’s got a death grip on Hope’s arm, blunt nails digging in.

“I know!” Hope exclaims. “I felt so guilty giving Alpine to her… Even though that’s exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.”

“But Bucky will be so heartbroken,” Janet nearly wails. “Again.”

“Hey you don’t know what happened between those two,” Hope admonishes, elbowing her friend. “Besides, they both seem… Happy.”

“But Alpine.”

“Oh my god,” Hope huffs, tossing a rag in Hope’s direction. ���Go clean something for crying out loud, I can’t look at your pouty face anymore.”

✧

“Oh! Here they come, here they come,” Hope squeals, shoving Janet towards the cash register.

“Oooooh, he’s with Nat’s boyfriend!” Janet proclaims, smoothing her apron down.

“They look cozy together.”

“Stop that! He was just in here with Bucky yesterday,” Janet reminds her. “And they adopted a cat!”

“You don’t know they adopted Liho together,” Hope points out. “Bucky could just be finally taking that step to adopt, now that Alpine is no longer up for grabs.”

“Okay, fine, maybe the cat adoption wasn’t a clear indicator but you know what is? The fact they definitely shared a very steamy kiss.”

“Gee, I didn’t realize you were such a creep.”

“You watch them too, what the f —”

“Shh!” Hope hisses as she scurries back to her machines. “Here they come!”

“No way, he’s not cheating on Bucky,” Janet vehemently denies under her breath, though Hope has long stopped listening.

Janet plasters a smile on her face as the two approach. She watches as the slighter blonde — Steve, Bucky’s boyfriend — gestures with his hands to his companion.

“Uhhh, I forgot to ask Bucky what he wants,” Clint confesses, squinting at the menu hanging above the counter when they get closer.

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him aside a bit before smiling at her. “A large praline latte, large sugar cookie oat latte a — Clint —”

The nudge makes Clint look back down at Steve, who’s gesturing for him to order.

“One extra large salted caramel hot chocolate, please.” He watches Steve’s lips as he rattles off the remainder of their order.

“A large — actually, make that an extra large — caramel macchiato. With extra caramel, please.”

“Spoiling your boy, hm?” Clint asks, and Janet has to fight to keep the smile off her face.

Steve’s look softens as he pays, signing to Clint after tucking his wallet away. Janet desperately wishes she knew what he was saying.

“Ah,” Clint says, as if that explains everything.

Hope is a whirlwind preparing the drinks, so Janet tucks them all neatly into a tray, and tops them off accordingly before they hand the tray over.

“Have a wonderful day!” Janet sings with a bright smile.

“You too,” they reply in unison before leaving together.

“Did you hear?” Janet asks, poking Hope in the side. “He called Bucky Steve’s boy. I told you.”

“Sure, sure, but like, how weird is it that they all know each other?”

“Maybe they all went to school together, there can be a simple explanation you know.”

Hope rolls her eyes and starts to wipe the countertop. “Sure, I guess. Guh, they’re just so cute.”

“We should stop speculating,” Janet suggests, albeit reluctantly. “What matters is that all four of them are happy and they’re somehow together one way or another.”

“I’m sure they’re together. Like all together.” Hope’s eyes sparkle a bit.

Janet gasps, “Oh.”

✧

“You’re worse than Alpine,” Nat says with a chuckle, her hands raking through Bucky’s hair as he lays in her lap.

Bucky closes his eyes, leaning into the touch and mumbling what was supposed to be a protest back at her.

As if on cue, Alpine hops down from the back of the couch and onto Bucky’s hip.

“Easy girl, daddy’s still not feeling well,” Nat warns, scratching under Alpine’s chin to stop her from climbing any further up Bucky’s side.

Bucky whines at the loss and as obnoxious as it is, it gets Natasha’s hand to come back, so he counts it as a win. His prosthetic currently lays on the ground beside him, until he can handle putting it back on.

The telltale click of the lock indicates the return of Clint and Steve, followed by Clint’s hollering, of course.

“HONIES, WE’RE HOOOOOOOME! Oooooh, smells good in here.”

Lucky, who’d been asleep in his bed, bolts up and runs to the door, barking happily while Clint sniffs the air like a bloodhound.

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed,” Natasha deadpans. “What’d you get?”

Bucky forgives her, this time, for abandoning his petting as she uses her hands to sign. He sits himself up, slowly, to see Clint with a shopping bag in his hand and Steve with a tray of hot drinks from what they've now dubbed as their their coffee shop. A successful trip, it seems.

“C’mon Nat, I can’t just tell you what I got for my lucky giftee,” Clint says with a smile. “But this means I’m not the last to finish my shopping this year!”

Bucky and Nat share a look, as if contemplating whether or not to burst Clint’s bubble. Steve, who’s toeing off his shoes, is suspiciously quiet.

“Aw, seriously?” Clint whines, having seen enough of Bucky and Nat’s looks to decipher it. He turns to Steve, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry?” Steve shrugs with a smile that indicates he’s not sorry whatsoever. He makes his way to the couch, handing out drinks.

Clint throws his hands up in exasperation before going to stash his gift in his room.

Liho chooses that moment to jump up onto the arm of the couch, trying to headbutt Steve’s hand.

“Liho, princess, if you spill this macchiato, Bucky will never forgive you,” Steve chuckles.

“Oh please, Bucky falls for a bat of an eyelash,” Nat teases.

“Hey!”

“She’s right, Buck,” Steve agrees, pressing the macchiato into his boyfriend’s hand.

When Clint re-emerges, he’s all smiles again. “Okay, I may be last, but I have the best gift.”

Bucky, halfway through his macchiato in bliss, doesn’t even argue. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve drops a light kiss to his temple from behind the couch, his hands over Bucky’s shoulders, a little lighter on the left side. “Figured it’d be a rough day with your physio. Feeling okay?”

Bucky drops his head on the back of the couch to look up at Steve with his lips pursed for a kiss. “Could be better.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but obliges. Their kiss is a sugary sweet exchange, chaste as it was, and Steve’s voice is softer after. “Seriously, Buck. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky placates. Then with a smug smile, he adds, “I even got pets from Nat.”

“You never —”

Clint is cut off by Natasha, who’s already predicted what he was going to say. “Yes, I have. When you broke your arm falling out of that tree.”

“She petted you for hours after you slipped mopping the kitchen last year,” Steve adds.

“And,” Bucky chimes in, poking Nat to sign for him as he holds onto his lifeline that is the macchiato. “When Lucky was at the vet’s a month after you picked him up.”

“I hate all of you,” Clint chirps, cheerfully as he returns to his earlier quest of sniffing around. “Did you guys make cookies?”

“Nat made cookies,” Bucky corrects. “I —”

“You helped,” Natasha interjects.

“Yeah, sure, I lent a hand,” Bucky replies with a grin, wiggling the fingers of his right hand.

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh, Natasha rolls her eyes and Clint guffaws in the kitchen so enthusiastically he nearly brains himself on the cupboard.

Natasha tugs at Steve’s sleeve to take her place, brushing Bucky’s hair back as she stands. “You pick first!”

Bucky’s eyes widen at the high honour of picking their first movie for the night. The tradition had slowly morphed over the years, but watching scary movies has always been something they all agreed on.

He jumps off the couch gleefully to grab the remote, knowing exactly what he wants to watch. First, he gets distracted by petting Lucky, then refilling the food bowl for Liho and Alpine, then refilling the water dispenser for Biscuit, Steve’s hamster.

Steve diligently starts to pull the blankets and pillows from their rooms. Since Bucky sleeps with an absurd amount of pillows, it takes him two trips just to bring out what he needs from their room. He lays the blue and white duvet that he and Bucky share out on the floor in front of the couch. Haphazardly tossing the pillows down, he moves on to retrieve Nat’s black and red bedding, then the purple monstrosity Clint claims to be his pillow, blanket and eye mask.

“Nat, get the lights! Where’re the cookies at?”

“Clint’s on cookies!”

“Buck, if you take any longer to find your movie, I’m stealing your turn.”

It’s an affair of cookies, coffee and cushions as they all settle in.

Nat settles into Bucky’s right side, taking the tray of cookies from Clint to spread around. She’s tired from the day, and Bucky knows she likely won’t even make it through the movie.

Steve is careful as he sits on Bucky’s left, doing his best not to lean into the aching muscles there. He instead turns his body in, his hands light as he massages Bucky’s shoulder, where it usually aches the most.

Clint obnoxiously lays across their feet in front of them, feet tangling with Steve’s as he rests his head against Nat’s shins, Lucky dutifully takes his place curled up against Clint’s stomach, wagging tail brushing over toes.

Bucky, surrounded by warmth, surrounded by love, passes the remote to Clint so he can hold his drink again.

“Ready?” Clint asks.

They all give him a few love-taps with their toes, and Clint starts Hereditary.

Halfway through the movie, Nat’s soft breaths in Bucky’s ear tell him she’s asleep, and Steve might not be too far behind. Clint’s munching away on cookies, eyes glued to the close captions.

It’s perfect.

It’s home.

“Love you guys,” Bucky whispers, even though nobody can hear him.

[ducktracy]

Have you seen that SJ2 merch pic with the signatures of the team (well, most of them)? twitter dot com slash Smolcilla slash status slash 1405296055462379524

Daffy and Porky's are beautiful!

I JUST SAW IT TODAY!!! i love that!! analyzing cartoon handwriting is always fun! when i first saw that i was like “daffy’s should be in all caps” but i think that’s me speaking for myself there 😛

[custardcrazy]

Honeysuckle

pairing: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

warnings: s4 vol 2 spoilers, language, minor description of injuries. eddie did not die, guys! (also i have little to no clue how hospital mail works. let alone in the 80′s, so forgive me for any inaccuracies) 

summary: Eddie writes you a short letter from the hospital. It’s kind of cheesy.

It arrived in your mailbox, maybe a day or two after Eddie was admitted to the hospital. A pressed white envelope, with your address on the front. Holding it up to your face, it smelled like new books and hand sanitizer. 

You were still recovering from the events that had happened a few days prior. And so was everyone else, to an extent. Steve and Robin had dropped by a few times, and you were glad to see them, glad to see that they were holding up alright. 

Though you and basically everyone else had tried to see Eddie, you were merely informed that he was alright; You just weren’t allowed to see him, not yet- and that caused you considerable frustration. But you were still really glad that he was okay. 

But, now -- your heart hammered as you lowered your hands away from your face, looking down at the envelope. 

The moment you entered your kitchen, you pretty much tore it open; Still taking care as to not actually damage the paper within it, but your patience couldn’t hold out for long. The tattered envelope itself was thrown carelessly onto the counter, as you unfolded the actual letter with shaky hands. 

The image on the top left corner of the paper displayed proudly the logo and name of the hospital Eddie was in. 

The rest of it was filled with the chicken scratch that you knew as Eddie’s handwriting, scrawled in pen. If it could even be called handwriting. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t even bother sitting down at the counter, beginning to skim the badly formatted paragraphs as fast as you could, without pause...

--

Hey, sweets!

Dunno how long this letter’s gonna take to get to you. But I think I’m going to be here for at least a few days so I’m not that worried. Everything’s okay. I’m gonna have some scars after this is over for sure. That’s what my doctor tells me. He seems like a cool dude. 

Anyway, I just wanna tell you that I miss you lots. The food here is ass. Doing normal tasks borders on life-threatening dangerous cause of my injuries. Even writing this is wearing me out a little. Thankfully I just lost enough blood to leave me tired and not dead. And I’ll gladly suffer through this part of the healing process if that means I can see you and everyone else again. I saw my uncle shortly after I woke up. We both cried a lot. It was annoying cause I couldn’t really wipe off my face. But I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time. Just about how glad I was to see him. 

It’s kind of funny how near death makes you revalluate think about your life all over again. I’ve had a looot of time to think. About me. About school. About what really matters to me. And about how I’m gonna see if I can get that bat tatoo removed when I’m back to normal. 

But on the topic of what matters to me, I think the thing I was most scared about while en route to the hospital was you. I know this is really fucking cheesy but you’re probably the best thing that’s happened to me. I didn’t want to think about my funeral and how you would react to my death. But it seemed like a very real senario scenario because I was slowly bleeding out. And it was absolutely fucking terrifying. I hate seeing you cry. I hate seeing you sad in general. It makes me feel like I’ve been a bad boyfriend because I really want to make you happy. And if I died I wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. Hell, I would forcefully come back from the dead like a motherfucking zombie if that I meant that I could make you smile again. 

Listen, the second that I can I’m getting outta here and coming to you. Doc says it’ll be a little while but I can wait. I wanna see Dustin and Steve and well, everyone else. I’m so goddamn lonely! If you can, please write back. I miss you so fucking much. That sounds dramatic but it’s the truth. 

I also miss my guitar. I miss listening to my music. I miss actually good food. And I miss all the guys from the Hellfire Club. I wonder if they heard about my current situation. I’m kinda divided whether or not I want them to know about my hospitilized bedridden state because I don’t want them to worry too much about it. They’re good guys. 

I doubt the majority of the town would like to know that I’m alive. Fuck them though. Fuck it all. I’m alive and that’s what fucking matters in the end. 

Look. If I could write twenty thousand pages of letters to you I would. If I could I would write millions of letters to you. But my hand is cramping up right now and I think I need to sleep because I haven’t got much rest over the past day or two. 

Again, please write back. I miss you. I miss your smile and your laugh and your hugs n kisses and everything. I love you so much. You make me feel alive. 

Love you lots,

Eddie 

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Ghosts Still Have Souls

Pairings: Luke x Reader, mentions of Willex

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none? 

Summary: For his whole life Luke Patterson had anxiously awaited the day he’d meet his soulmate, and then he died. 25 years later he and his bandmates are mysteriously resurrected and Luke’s hopes return. Could he find his soulmate in death? After all, Willie says ghosts still have souls. 

A/N: it took me all day but here is my submission for Day 2 - AU for @jatp-week JATP appreciation celebration. I’m such a sucker for soulmate aus and I haven’t written any in the JATP universe yet so this was the perfect opportunity! Send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in any future works and as always, let me know what you think!

Masterlist

___

Luke Patterson had always loved the idea of soulmates. When he was a little boy his parents would regale him with the story of how they met. They ran into each other on the quad at their university, his mom knocked to the ground and his dad dropping his books. In her flustered state Emily had combined “Hey, watch where you’re going!” with “Are you okay?” and ended up crying out “Hey, watch where you’re okay!” while his dad had cursed “Shitfuck, are you okay?” When Mitch offered his hand to help her up they noticed each others’ tattoos and the rest was history.

It was Luke’s favorite story in the whole world and he grew up daydreaming about the day he’d meet his soulmate. He couldn’t wait to see what words would appear on his skin when he or she said their first words to him. He wondered if he’d feel the tingle that some reported feeling when the mark formed on their skin, or what the handwriting of his soulmate would look like permanently inked onto this skin. No matter what he knew he’d cherish the mark, it would be from his soulmate, after all, his other half, the person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

Dying before he could hear the words that would change his life forever kinda threw a wrench in his plans.

The thought of his soulmate out there, having grown up without him, never to meet each other because of his untimely death had plagued him for days after Julie “resurrected” them. Then Alex had met Willie. The skater ghost had died more nearly a decade before they had and yet he and Alex were soulmates, “You dinged my board.” proudly displayed on the blond’s wrist.  

The knowledge that soulmates existed even in death had brought hope back into his life and he started spending his free time daydreaming about them again.

He’d been channeling his daydreams into songwriting one afternoon when Julie had walked into the garage with Flynn and another friend. He assumed you hadn’t been informed about the ghosts as neither Flynn nor Julie made any remarks towards the guitarist despite typically doing so. He wished that wasn’t the case as you were quite cute. You were absolutely the type of girl Luke would’ve crushed on hard back when he was alive, soulmates or not.  

“Oh, and who is this?” Luke asked, employing his teasing tone as he spoke to the newcomer as you set down your backpack though he knew only Julie could hear him.

He had expected a quiet laugh or at the very least a dramatic eye roll from the girl but when he turned to look at her she was staring at her friend’s wrist. Luke turned to look as well and his stomach immediately sank.

There inked on your wrist in his chicken-scratch handwriting were the words he had just spoken to you.

“Oh my gosh,” Julie gasped aloud, drawing everyone’s attention as she opened her mouth to announce what she had just observed.

Before he even had time to think about it, he was stopping her. “No! Julie don’t!”

She stared at him puzzled for a moment but closed her mouth anyway.

“What?” Her friend asked, looking at her perplexed.

“I just… forgot to tell my dad you guys were coming over,” Julie saved. “I’ll just text him real quick.”

You and Flynn nodded, unfazed by the excuse, and plopped down onto the available seating. Luke sighed, pulling his eyes away from you and poofing out of the garage.

He reappeared at his parent’s house. He had hoped to vent to his mom but she wasn’t home so he plopped down on his old bed. His parents hadn’t done much to the room since his death and as he laid there in silence it almost felt like it was still ’95. That pit that had started to form in his stomach continued to grow as he laid there, his thoughts swirling as his hopes thrashed around him once more.

He’d finally found his soulmate but she was- what had Alex called them?- a lifer. She couldn’t even see him. How were they supposed to meet and fall in love and build a life together when she couldn’t even see him and he couldn’t even touch her? How were they supposed to pass their story on to their future kids when she hadn’t even been able to hear the words that were now permanently etched into her skin? As he thought more about it he realized that he hadn’t received a mark of his own. His heart sank as he ran his thumb over the bare skin of his wrist. He’d stopped Julie before she could tell her he was even there so she’d never had a chance to say her first words to him.

It was worth it, he decided after a while. It was worth never hearing the words, never having the tattoo and knowing for certain that his perfect match was out there. It was worth it if he could spare you from the pain of knowing that your soulmate was there but he was dead and invisible.

___

Luke was almost grateful for the distraction of the Hollywood Ghost Club. The last few weeks had been torture, him constantly trying to avoid being in the same room with you and Julie. She had told you about them being ghosts not long after the appearance of your soulmark and had even invited you to meet the band which you had readily accepted. Luke, however, had run away before you could come that day. It killed him that you had met Alex and Reggie and not him, but he figured it would kill him more to have your first words to him appear on his wrist.

They talked about you sometimes, about how funny and adorable you were. It made his blood boil but he had to restrain himself, what right did he have to be jealous when he refused to even meet you.

Still, the rush to book the Orpheum was a welcome distraction from his internal turmoil. It was even enough to distract him from the fact that no matter what happened at the end of the night, he’d never see you again.

He’d miss you. That much was obvious. He’d miss hiding in the loft when you came over to work on homework with Julie, just out of sight so Julie wouldn’t see him but he could still watch you. He’d learned a lot about you that way, how your smile could light up a room, how gorgeous your laugh was but he could tell you hated it by the way you covered your mouth when you did it, how you fidgeted with the hair ties on your wrist whenever you were thinking (he noticed you always had at least two), and that you were almost always cold. He wished he could give you his flannels, you’d look so cute wrapped up in them and they’d certainly keep you warm.

He was thinking of you as he and the guys gathered around the piano in the studio. Julie had just left to head to the Orpheum with her dad and the mood in the garage had immediately grown somber. Their heads filled with worries of what would come next, what was on the other side? Luke’s only comfort was the thought that maybe if he crossed over you’d get a second chance at a soulmate, one who was alive. You’d never even spoken to him and yet he’d do anything for you.

It was that dedication to you that had pulled him out of the Hollywood Ghost Club and onto the Orpheum stage.

It was that dedication that kept him from running straight to Caleb to save his soul when they didn’t cross over. He’d let his soul be destroyed if it meant your happiness.

He never could’ve anticipated what had happened that night nor the repercussions.

He’d spent the next day journaling, writing down all his thoughts- and there were a lot seeing as he had expected to die yesterday, again. He was alone in the studio, Alex out celebrating with Willie and Reggie was who knows where (probably showing Ray like usual), then you walked in.

He sighed, getting ready to poof up to his hiding spot in the loft before Julie showed up when he was stopped.

“Am I dead?” You asked, staring at him in alarm.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked warily, not understanding the premise of your question.

“Well, you’re dead, and with the exception of Julie, you’re only visible to other dead people and I can see you,” you explained carefully, eyes wide.

Luke nodded at your train of thought before it hit him.

“Wait, you can see me?” He gasped, and you nodded. “You can see me! You talked to me!”

His head snapped down to stare at his wrist, sure enough, “Am I Dead?” was scrawled across his skin in the most beautiful handwriting he’d ever seen. Sure, some might say it was a little messy but to him it was perfect.

Before he could even think about his actions, he was rushing towards you and pulling you into his chest. You stiffened, shocked by the sudden action.

“What’re you-“ started to ask but you were cut off by him violently throwing himself away from you.

“I just touched you,” he gasped, once again stating the obvious. “Why can I touch you? Are you dead?”

“No! At least… I didn’t think I was but now I’m really not sure.” You shook your hands anxiously before reaching for one of your hair ties as you started pacing.

“Sorry for taking so long Y/N, I got caught up with Reggie in the house- what on earth is going on in here?” Julie paused in the doorway as she observed your pacing and Luke’s panicked look.

“Oh thank god, you can see me,” You breathe out before turning to Luke, “Julie can see me, so I must not be dead.”

“What?”

“Y/N and I thought maybe she was dead since she can see me and I could touch her,” Luke explained and you nodded.

“What?!” Julie repeated, more shocked than the last time. “You can see him? And you, you can touch her?”

“Yeah, look!” Luke exclaimed, reaching his arm out to tap your arm but it just went right through you. “Huh, why…?”

“Maybe the first time was a fluke?” You supplied before something caught your eye.

You reached out to grab his arm as it fell back to his side. This time it worked, and you pulled his limb closer to you, turning it over to examine what you had seen.

“Woah, see?” Luke said pointedly to Julie, though you weren’t listening.

“That’s- how? You’re-“ you sputtered as you stared at the mark on his wrist. “Soulmates.” You whispered finally.

“Um, I’m gonna give you guys some time,” Julie said, eyes wide as she walked backward out of the garage.

You didn’t let go of his wrist, your eyes flitting between your words and his eyes.

“That’s why I didn’t hear them,” you muttered, bringing your own wrist next to his.

It had been puzzling you for weeks, how you couldn’t remember hearing the words the day they had appeared on your wrist. It made sense now, you couldn’t hear them because Luke had said them.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, dropping his wrist from your grasp. “I thought maybe if you didn’t know you could find happiness somewhere else. With someone who wasn’t invisible and intangible.”

Your gaze softened as you looked up at him, his face was tilted down, unable to look you in the eye. You sighed, taking a deep breath before reaching your hand up to cup the side of his face. It took a couple of tries but you were finally able to place your hand on his cheek, tilting his face to look up at you.

“Luke,” you said softly, “How could I want anyone else?”

He shook his head at your words, though his hand came up to rest over your own. “How could you know that? This is the first time we’ve ever spoken.”

“Because the universe put us together,” you answered surely, bringing your wrists together again in the space between you. “I have no idea how this is going to work but I know it’ll be worth it because these mean we’re meant for each other.”

“You are better than I could ever imagine,” Luke confessed softly, and you smiled shyly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well you’re stuck with me now,” you joked lightly, before pulling him to the couch. “Now c’mon soulmate, we’ve got some catching up to do.”

[crabbng]

did this on twitter for hana and bon! i’ll put all their answers under the cut, please enjoy <3

HANA:

1. what's their favorite beverage - alcoholic and/or non-alcoholic? hana likes nice, comforting warm drinks like hot chocolate and apple cider, he hasn't really had experience with alcoholic drinks 2. what's their favorite flavor? (spicy, sweet, sour, etc.) umami tbh, some nice hearty savory stew flavors 3. what's their favorite food? BEEF Clapping hands sign STEW Clapping hands sign he also like sweets, pastries and candies and whatnot 4. breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks - which do they look forward to the most? dinner cause he imagines it as a family meal, and also it's the heartiest meal 5. do they have a food or flavor they absolutely hate? bland things like.. boiled green beans.. like.. wet tasteless vegetables.. he is not a fan but who is tbh 6. can they tolerate spicy food? yeah! he likes some good heat in his meals 7. what is their favorite animal? DRAGONS! cause they're cool. also... because baby. 8. what do they wear to bed? boxers or nothing in his own home, in the castle tho he wears like. pj bottoms. 9. what position do they like to sleep in? curled up around a pillow or in a blanket, or flopped on his belly 10. are they a morning person or a night owl? he would like to be a morning person, but he tends to get excited about whatever he's working on and accidentally staying up late, which then makes him sleep in late.. 11. are they a heavy sleeper or do they wake up easily? HEAVY SLEEPER. the boy sleeps like a rock. 12. it's a rainy day, what will they do cooped up inside all day? hana has a WHOLE ROOM of stuff to work on. he tries to get old tech up and running again (with.. limited resources) or to get it to be useful in other ways. 13. do they have a favorite scent or smell? honestly... musty smell of city that was cut off and unused for a thousand years. 14. what do they smell like? do they wear perfume or cologne? a little bit sweaty, a little musty from hanging out in an abandoned city, a little like oil, wood shavings.. he smells like whatever he's been working on. he tries to just smell neutral around other people. 15. baths or showers? BATHS! BUBBLES! RELAX TIME!! taking time just to be hana. nice. 16. how good are they at cooking? it's not gourmet or anything but he can cook a tasty meal. he's worse at baking but he's practicing!! 17. what's their favorite time of year and why? winter!!! pretty snow.. relaxing quiet.. getting to go inside and get all warm and cozy.. nice. 18. do they have a favorite holiday? tbh i dont know what holidays there are in kos world... i oughta think of that.. but anything with people getting together and celebrating together is something he'd like to participate in someday 19. do they prefer buying or receiving gifts? buying!!!! hana loves giving gifts. tbh he doesn't receive a lot of gifts. maybe like.. a jar of jam one time and it made him cry. he kept the jar. 20. how tall are they, and how do they feel about their height? 4' even. he's fine with his height tbh, his insecurities come in when he thinks about what OTHER people think about his height. he definitely recognizes that he looks different than everyone he's been around. 21. can they play any instruments? not really.. he made a guitar once. was NOT good at it. 22. do they have a nice singing voice? NO! cant keep a tune to save his life, but he's the only one (besides baby) who's heard him sing so it really hasn't mattered 23. do they talk to themselves? YES! it could seem like he's talking to baby, but really... she can be asleep or somewhere else and he's just still talking to himself. who else does he have to talk to?! let him live. 24. do they enjoy music? what kind? tbh he probably enjoys "old timey" music he found in the ancient city so like.. synth pop LMAO 25. do they make friends easily? yes! surprisingly, from his popularity in the town. he had a bad first impression whoops. but he's just very charming and sweet and wants to be your friend. 26. surprise birthday party! how do they react? crying. happy crying. but a lot of crying. he won't stop. please stop crying hana. second surprise party would go over better, he'd just cry at the beginning and then have fun at the party. 27. what is their favorite flower, if they have one? hydrangea.. symbolize heartfelt emotions 28. how does your character feel about wearing jewelry? neutral? i like putting him in a lot of jewelry, but it's not something he'd do himself. besides like. his ear and nose piercings (and the other one lol) those are kind of special. he's had those since before he can remember 29. if they wear jewelry, what's their favorite piece? his teal earrings! he was gifted those (one of the like 2 gifts he's received lol) by someone very important to him 30. fashion forward or fashion disaster? fashion neutral? he's definitely not fashionable when he dresses himself (in the clothes he made himself lmao) but he's not like.. offensively disastrous 31. what kind of underwear does your character wear? boxer briefs? for comfort. that's hana's goal picking out his own clothes. comfort. 32. do they wear makeup? what kind? not regularly but he's not against it. he likes looking pretty. he likes eyeliners especially but will sit there and let u put whatever on his face. 33. do they paint their nails? HELL YEAH he paints his toenails since he works with his hands and it'd chip off. after bath nail painting time. paints baby's claws too. 34. are they quick to get haircuts or do they often let it grow out? after his introduction to the townspeople with his hair that had been grown out for years and NOT well taken care of.. he keeps up with haircuts now. he doesn't want to give people reasons to dislike him lmao 35. do they know how to whistle? through the front gap in his fangs yes 36. or how to braid hair? he knows how to braid his own hair for sure. he hasn't had other hair to practice on but he would know how to braid like.. leather cord or stuff for other crafts projects. so i think he'd be good at it. he'd learn like fancy patterns and such 37. are they scared if anything in nature - bugs, snakes, lightning, being on the water, etc.? lightning and storms definitely. he spent his formative years under a mountain, safe from all that, any sort of dangerous weather freaks him out. 38. have they ever thought they were about to die? not that he remembers. but there were times. 39. how do they react to getting sick? a big baby. snuggled up in a thousand blankets with chicken noodle soup and hot teas. 40. are they afraid of blood? not especially? he's been injured before and had to patch himself up. bad injuries tho... lots of blood..... he wouldn't do great with that. 41. how do they earn money? hana builds and repairs stuff for the town mostly in exchange for produce and such. he doesn't really.. have money. 42. are they satisfied with their occupation or long to do something else? he enjoys helping people, so in that way he's satisfied. he'd rather people were more interested in his side job of repairing old tech and making his own tech stuff but... that's not legal. 43. how creative are they? quite creative! he has a number of different crafting hobbies and is always looking for more. he's not great at like.. like if you gave him a paintbrush and were like 'paint' he would just paint whatever was in front of him. not some imagined thing. 44. do they know how to draw? how skilled are they? he's good at like.. accurately drawn schematics? technical drawings. i dont think he would be great at like. portraits tho. like. he could probably draw an accurate face but it'd like completely lifeless. 45. what do they carry around with them during the day (ie in their pockets, a bag, a purse...) 1) a baby 2) his tablet, that's what's with him all the time.. except rn in the story.. when he is without both.. :( 46. do they have a sweet tooth? OH YEAH. he doesn't get a lot of sweets where he is (he's working on learning how to bake them) so he really enjoys good sweets when he gets his hand on them 47. haute cuisine or cheap eats? hana likes good homemade food, i guess cheap eats would be the closer of the two 48. do they know how to swim? HONESTLY.. PROBABLY NOT.. boy has not been around water much 49. do they have any scars? how did they get them? nah! at this point he is more or less scar free. i'm sure he has a few tiny ones from like.. when baby was playing a bit too wildly or something and he got a nasty little scratch but nothing like... big. 50. what kind of handwriting do they have? neat, messy, cursive, MESSY. like a kid who was never really taught how to write. he usually writes on his tablet, which has been taught how to recognize his handwriting and converts it to readable text.

BON:

bon can be hard so on questions where it's not really applicable now (like.. favorite foods and the like), i'll just go with what WOULD have been the case. when he was younger. 1. what's their favorite beverage - alcoholic and/or non-alcoholic? flavored sparkling waters, he likes the bubbles. he likes high alcohol content drinks, so it does its job. 2. what's their favorite flavor? (spicy, sweet, sour, etc.) he likes fresh, citrus-y flavors, whatever category that slots into. 3. what's their favorite food? THE ALL POWERFUL ORANGE, a good orange is a treat for bon 4. breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks - which do they look forward to the most? snacks, cause he can generally eat them alone and not be judged 5. do they have a food or flavor they absolutely hate? puddings and yogurts and stuff like that, soft foods 6. can they tolerate spicy food? a fair amount, but he does have limits (he will not admit it) 7. what is their favorite animal? farm animals, especially working animals, they're nice and usually calm, bon likes that 8. what do they wear to bed? either whatever he's wearing at the time he knocks out or nothin 9. what position do they like to sleep in? huddled in a corner 10. are they a morning person or a night owl? BOTH! he's not a sleeper. if you find him sleeping its because he was probably up the past 3+ days and he just knocked out. 11. are they a heavy sleeper or do they wake up easily? if he's sleeping cause he hadn't slept the past week, he doesn't wake up easily, but if it's a purposeful rest he wakes up to a pin dropping. also re: bon sleeping, he technically can go without sleep indefinitely but he has to go into his lava form to kinda.. refresh his stats so to speak 12. it's a rainy day, what will they do cooped up inside all day? pre-incident: read! study! practice magic. post-incident: think about mortality and stare at a wall 13. do they have a favorite scent or smell? fresh air on a cool day. but he's also nostalgic about the stink smell of a tavern. 14. what do they smell like? do they wear perfume or cologne? ash and smoke. and on special days ;) burnt flesh ;) he doesn't wear perfume or cologne, he just smells weird all the time. 15. baths or showers? showers, a quick spray down and then he's out of the water as quick as possible. 16. how good are they at cooking? QUITE! bon can cook and he can cook good. he's stayed with a lot of families over the years and learned a lot of good tricks and recipes, plus what he learned from when he was growing up and would somewhat regularly cook for himself. 17. what's their favorite time of year and why? summer. he does well in the heat. also the days are longest. bon likes it when it's light out. 18. do they have a favorite holiday? bon doesn't like holidays! cause holidays come with traditions. and traditions come with expectations. and expectations come with punishments. 19. do they prefer buying or receiving gifts? giving, i guess? receiving gifts can come with a price. but it's nice to give a gift and know you expect nothing in return. 20. how tall are they, and how do they feel about their height? bonk is 5'9", he's fine with it 21. can they play any instruments? YES!!! he can play a variety, his favorites are harp and fiddle, though he also can play a mean flute, though that was mostly from his upbringing so he doesn't like it all too much 22. do they have a nice singing voice? YES!!!!! he has a most beautiful voice. he can rouse a room with a good folk song or bring a room to tears with a mournful ballad 23. do they talk to themselves? ahahaha yes. we have already seen this in comic. bon struggles with differentiating between reality and his.. imagination i guess. so. that can often lead to him just talking to himself. 24. do they enjoy music? what kind? yes! bon enjoys all sorts of music, but mostly songs you can sing along to. bar songs, shanties, ballads, he enjoys them all. he like songs that have an emotion to them if that makes sense. 25. do they make friends easily? NO. bon is both unfriendly and untrusting. however. if you are nice to him but once........... he Will die for you. and he will die for any child. loves childs. 26. surprise birthday party! how do they react? POORLY. either confused why people thought it would be a fun idea or angry that he was caught off guard. now... if you do it right..... have the surprise just be like.. a cake waiting at home or something.. a quiet night.. he will appreciate it. he Will die for you. 27. what is their favorite flower, if they have one? daffodil.. rebirth.. eternal life.. unrequited love.. perfect 28. how does your character feel about wearing jewelry? he's not a huge fan tbh. makes him feel like someone's shiny show piece. but he does like an earring or two or three 29. if they wear jewelry, what's their favorite piece? he doesn't wear jewelry regularly :( but he likes earrings! he likes little hoops that go on the top of his big ears 30. fashion forward or fashion disaster? more fashion forward than a disaster. he doesn't dress himself like.. super well.. cause his clothing tends to not last super long, but he knows how to look good 31. what kind of underwear does your character wear? NONE he's flying free 32. do they wear makeup? what kind? again, not any regularly, but will rock a good eyeliner if offered 33. do they paint their nails? no lmao good luck painting his lava nails, he'll melt ur brush, oh god and im sure the smell of burning nail polish is just awful 34. are they quick to get haircuts or do they often let it grow out? he cuts his hair pretty frequently (not well) he cuts like.. parts at a time. like 'hm this section looks a lil long' CHOP~ 35. do they know how to whistle? like a got damn bird 36. or how to braid hair? yes! he is good at this. 37. are they scared if anything in nature - bugs, snakes, lightning, being on the water, etc.? not really? he's had a lot of experience living outdoors so things that may have scared him at one point have been dealt with and most things it's like 'well i cant die so it really doesnt matter', cold and rain it's like 'well ill get real hecked up for a while but.. whatever' 38. have they ever thought they were about to die? YES! quite a few times, though not anymore lmao. one of the first times he ran away from home and nearly starved to death, the... incident, and when he was turned into a basbeo, just to name a few 39. how do they react to getting sick? pretending like he's not. pushing himself too hard until he cannot pretend anymore. nowadays tho.. he just turn into lava man and boom. all better. 40. are they afraid of blood? nah, he's seen plenty of it by this point to just not even register it. not even mostly his own! see this isn't a sad answer. 41. how do they earn money? HE DON'T! what use does a dog have for money u feel me 42. are they satisfied with their occupation or long to do something else? bon was basically a travelling bard at one point and oh boy he longs to go back to those days. his current occupation of 'guy who steals, kidnaps, murders and destroys on command' just isn't fulfilling for him. 43. how creative are they? i'd say pretty creative. he's not really doing anything with it right now, but he's a pretty imaginative guy. 44. do they know how to draw? how skilled are they? i think so! i figure that would be part of his lessons when he was younger. so he's probably.. too good at it. opposite of hana, where he's be good at portraiture and like.. pretty scenes. this also makes me think of little bon running around and putting lil devil horns on his mom's portraits 45. what do they carry around with them during the day (ie in their pockets, a bag, a purse...) doesn't really have.. a lot of things.. in the same vein tho, that jacket he wears, he's had for a while, and it's been through a lot now (i.e. the missing bottom) but. it's something he repairs and takes care of. it's special to him. for reasons. 46. do they have a sweet tooth? not especially, he doesn't like Sugar Sweet stuff, but he does like.. apples n stuff. he'll eat a peach croissant and enjoy it. everything in balance. 47. haute cuisine or cheap eats? cheap eats: more food for less 48. do they know how to swim? yes but he doesn't do it anymore cause he'll get too cold and seize up and lava man will just become a rock. he can use like.. hot tubs and very warm baths. he CAN enjoy those. 49. do they have any scars? how did they get them? well! bon had scars previous to his charred limbs (you'll see them soon) from being burned. because of.. reasons. i never know how depressing to get when talking about bon :( anyways, his charred limbs didn't happen immediately after becoming a basbeo. it basically happens when there's like.. a struggle for control between bon, his elemental, and who or whatever (maighstir, priomh, tera, his cuffs, etc.) is trying to control bon's transformation abilities. like either trying to use more power than he's being allowed, or to resist using it at all. they feel weird and crusty and leathery and warm! so the last one is kind of nice. it is unpleasant to hold his hand. 50. what kind of handwriting do they have? neat, messy, cursive, BOY CAN'T WRITE ANYMORE! he used to have really neat cursive handwriting like.. calligraphy style.

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends //ch.2

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wc: 1180

pairing: TBD x reader

Ch. 2 // Here We Go

3 years ago 

“Atsumu move your fat ass head,” you groan, shoving your band mate slightly to see the tiny phone screen Mirrors for Friends we’re currently gathered around. The 4 of you were currently gathered in Iwaizumi’s living room, attempting and failing to all squeeze onto a tiny loveseat. You had called dibs on the couch and since it was Iwaizumi’s place, that left the remaining two members on the floor.

“Your head’s fat”

“You two shut up and let’s watch my masterpiece come to life.” Kuroo stops the two of you before you could start your usual bickering. He also ignored your comment about how you definitely pitched in, instead opting to rest his head on your knee. On the screen was a recorded rehearsal for a new song, Here We Go. Written primarily by Kuroo, the song became an unspoken anthem for the band. It’s a song about pure passion for making music, and following this dream. A sentiment shared by the rest of you. 

The song even throws a direct shot at your former band mate. Some guy you and Iwaizumi had met, who knows when. One day the two of you were just hanging out in a cafe and the next you thought you had a new friend. You guys thought he had been cool, and he was a pretty good singer. The four of you were already friends had just decided to combine your musical inclinations and form an official band. Not wanting to be the only one singing, you guys sought out another member and that turned out to be a huge mistake. While the rest of you were ready to put as much into this as you could,he was the only one not ready to take anything serious. Showing up late to practices, and when he did he had either been too high to function or so hungover that even the strum of an acoustic guitar “ruined his eardrums”. On the occasion he was a functioning member of the band, he’d always have something negative to contribute. 

“This song sucks, who wrote it.”

“Iwaizumi, how are you so tired after playing drums? You're sitting down”

You constantly had to act as a buffer between the dude and Kuroo. After all, at that early point he had been the only one really writing the music. So to have his lyrics constantly nitpicked by some jerk who only contributed a few measly vocals, only for your benefit. Then Atsumu has been no better. His purposeful backhanded compliments had caused a physical fight on several occasions. That hand the fact that he didn’t even try to be nice to the guy. After all, this rando comes in and starts insulting his friends? Thank god for Iwa being able to calm the other guy down enough for you all to at least get something done. 

That continued on for nearly a year, and by then you all had recorded several YouTube covers as well as like 2 originals in Iwaizumi’s basement and had started building a tiny following. The four of you still hung out together a ton and one day after your fifth member showed up to practice hungover and annoyed, all hell broke loose. It had started with a snide remark by atsumu about how it was nice that he’d finally showed up. An hour late. Somehow it got to the guy arguing about how you all took this shitty good for nothing band too seriously, and how you all were probably just having weird massive orgies whenever he wasn’t around. “This band is nothing but a joke. A stupid dream by a bunch of weirdos who aren’t going anywhere in life.” That day not only did you lose your fifth member, but he reignited the fire that had begun to dull in all of you. The four of you were going to make it. 

--

The sound of pen rapidly scribbling across paper, broke you out of your study induced trance. Glancing, up you noticed the closed laptop and textbook from the man you’d come to the library with. “That doesn’t look like peptides and amino acids to me.” The first time you caught a glimpse of Kuroo’s course work, and you were completely confused. Hell, you still are, but you’d been around the guy long enough to know that the scribbled words right now looked nothing like his little molecular pictures you’d seen him make before.

“(Y/N), Come here for a second and take a look at this.” Kuroo hadn't even acknowledged your comment, so curiosity got the best of you. Closing your laptop, and abandoning your seat, you moved so that you were leaning over his shoulder, squinting at his handwriting. “What am I looking at, all I see is your chicken scratch.” The seriousness in his voice caught you off guard as he mentioned that they were lyrics. 

This will always be mine, so much more than just a dream to me And I will never be fine with letting you ruin everything And I will never fucking follow your lead Give up on you, so you can take it out on me I'm sorry that you had to watch your life come tumbling down

“It's about us. The band, and how that asshole just tried to bring us down. I was thinking that might be a verse. Heavy guitar, maybe some type of solo back and forth with drums,” Kuroo hummed out eyeing your profile. “What do you think?”

“You know I already think you're a musical genius.” You shrug, turning so that the two of you make eye contact. The soft smile filters through his face before turning back into his usual lazy smirk. “Well of course I am. However, I have this riff in my head that I need to get out. You down for getting out of here?” You don’t miss the way his tongue quickly swipes across his lips before he breaks the eye contact and starts packing up his bag. “Yeah, lets go write a song.”

---

“We’re fucking awesome.” Atsumu said, the rest of you nodding in agreement. You all had broken into a quick debrief about the performance, everyone agreeing that Kuroo’s guitar work on the song was absolutely insane.”You guys are gonna make me cry,” the guitarist joked, soaking in the praise. Before you all added songs to your live shows you always did a video recording. You all would give it your all, performing as if it were an official show. That was how you gauged if a song would translate well live. Sometimes you all would have friends come by and watch those rehearsals, but now that everyone has grown up, it was much harder to do.

“This song almost feels like a theme song for us. Imagine we opened with it.” Iwaizumi added. “Good job writing this too Kuroo.”

“What can I say, I’m a musical genius-” he had been interrupted by your knee painfully coming into contact with his back. “I helped write the song too jackass.”

a/n: yeah i hope this structure is clear. still dont know which boy im gonna go with *though this chapter is kuroo leaning if u squint, but all the boys will get a leaning chap*. And, pls note that they've been a band for 6 years, but this song was written 3yrs ago and that is intentional. Also the song is Here We Go by sleeping with sirens yes.

[staylovehearts]

Headline: Dating Scandal - New celebrity couple?

Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Summary: “And how are you supposed to defend what sometimes you are not even sure of yourself?”

Tags: Idol x Producer, kinda, well Jisung is like a solo rapper artist, y/n is a producer/ low key singer, also they are secretly dating, whoops, warning for insecurities and self-doubt, but I promise it’s all fluffy

"Are you really sure about this?", you ask, for maybe the tenth time already in the past hour. Jisung is spinning around in his office chair next to you but halts the movement to look at you and roll his eyes.

"You know, with how often you are asking I'm starting to believe that you want to back out after all", he laughs but upon noticing your grief expression he stops and pushes his chair closer to yours so that he can grab one of your hands with both of his and give it a little squeeze. "Hey, we don't have to do this if you are uncomfortable. We can still stop the whole project. I would totally understand if you don't want to do this after all."

And that is exactly the part that is killing you so much. Jisung is so sweet about all of this. So understanding and loving and absolutely perfect. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve being with someone as wonderful as him at all. And yet here he is, squeezing your hand tight and reassuring you and being overall the sweetest person you have ever met. He made it near impossible for you not to fall in love when you first met. And he didn't even do much. All he did was be himself. But when you're Han Jisung that is probably already more than enough.

When you first met he was a rising star, rapper and idol, good at dancing as well and always funny and charming on variety shows. He'd pull funny faces for the camera and cutely whine over punishments just to turn around and spit several syllables of fire per second into the microphone. A reverse charm is what the suit-clad people in the pr department call it, but you think that does not quite fit right. Jisung is just a natural with the camera and the audience because he is just the same with ordinary people. He is nice to everyone he meets. Makes polite conversation and laughs about stupid jokes. Also, he's ambitious enough to make it in this dog eat dog world. You were eager to work with him and pretty much agreed on the spot when the project was proposed to you. Producing a track for his upcoming album. An amazing way to get your name out there. But an even better way to get to know your idol up close and personal. Actually, you were just curious at first. Eager to find out the dark secret behind the honey boy rapper with the sunshine personality. You wanted to know how everybody's darling acted with no cameras about. Because he seemed just to perfect to be true. Well, truth is, that Han Jisung is just that. Too good to be true. And way too good for you.

You fell for him on the spot but you tried to not let it show. Continued work as usual. Went to meetings, pitched in ideas, made beats and changed them according to feedback. Just the same way you'd work with any other client. Well, except that usually you are not that stuff. Usually you don't insist on using honorifics and being formal and never before have you turned down a client inviting you for dinner after a day of work. You tried to put distance between Jisung and you, but despite you playing the stone-hard professional he remained his sweet, charming self.

Months after you actually started dating Jisung told you, that he was actually intimidated by you at first. But he fell for you eventually. After you sent him the final guide audio with your voice in it. The one he liked so much that he called you in the middle of the night only to ask if you were down with him using samples of your voice for harmonies and stuff like that. You said yes. And that would not be the last crazy idea you agreed on.

"Hey, you're kind of zoning out there, is everything alright?", Jisung asks, pulling you back into here and now. The end of the latest crazy idea. You quickly shake your head and then immediately nod because you are not sure what to answer. A deep sigh escapes your mouth.

"I just got lost in thought a little", you admit. You have been doing a lot of thinking the past few days. Weeks. Months. Basically, you have been racking your mind non-stop since meeting Jisung. And he always seems so carefree that you don't want to drag him down with all of it. Another sigh. "I'm just a little... anxious I guess. That's all. I mean you are so popular and you have all these crazy female fans that are obsessed with you because, let's be honest, why wouldn't they be? What if they'll hate me? What if the press tears us apart? What if this hurts your career?"

It's a risky move. A stupid move. But once again you found yourself agreeing to produce an album together the second Jisung placed a notebook with some handwritten lyrics scribbled in it onto your desk. You did not even read through the song entirely, the chicken scratch handwriting sometimes hard to comprehend, when you had the baseline for a beat in your head that would work great with that. Agreeing to do the album together was one thing. But agreeing to open up about you dating as part of the promotions was an entirely different thing. And yet all it took was one puppy eye look from Jisung for you to agree to it. Right now he is puffing up his already chubby looking cheeks even more and rolling his dark brown eyes like a child that is frustrated by an adult not grasping a concept that is so simple and straightforward when looked at with innocent eyes.

"If they say anything mean about you I'll make sure to defend you. You know that I am really grateful for my fans, but they don't own me and I don't owe them anything. I'm an adult and I can date whoever I want. And it's not like the press isn't constantly trying to dig up dirt on me either way. Do you remember two weeks ago when they made up these crazy rumours about me and some actress that I shook hands with like once at the set of some drama where I did a small cameo? I think us being official is actually going to help because then they can't make shit up anymore", he huffs, visibly annoyed. Not with you of course. Never with you. Although sometimes you wish he would be frustrated with how indecisive you are. How unsure and moody you can become. Sometimes you want him to get upset with you because you think that's what you deserve. But Jisung never gets mad. Not at you. Towards you, he is always so sweet and compassionate and understanding. And that makes it so much harder to convince yourself that it's actually alright for you to be with him.

It was easier when no one else knew. Of course, you were already nervous when the whole thing started, constantly stressed about paparazzi catching you with your new celebrity boyfriend. Even though technically you belong in the industry as well, have even worked there for longer than Jisung has been in the spotlight now. But you have always been a more behind-the-scenes kind of person. You may appear in some interview every once in a while but for the most part, you are just a name on the credit list. Prod. by. That is where you belong. The occasional feature maybe. A SoundCloud link on your personal twitter. A few dedicated hardcore fans that like the tracks you make. But you are by far no big name. You are not in the public eye like Jisung is. Yet, it's not unusual for dating within the industry to happen. Artist and managers, stylists and producers, artists and other artists even. And the agency you and Jisung are currently under is a very lenient one when it comes to dating and giving you leeway for your private life. As long as it does not damage the image of the company what you do is pretty much up to you.

But for the sake of not wanting to cause a scandal so early in Jisung's career, you still kept your relationship pretty much a secret from everyone. Of course, the people working with you know. As well as some close friends and family members. But you never really thought about going public with it. You were just fine with busy schedules that rarely allowed for secret alone time and hastily arranged dates in the middle of the night. Empty family dinners past midnight with grumpy waiters that ask no question as long as you tip them enough and overly crowded coffee shops where there is too much business to pay attention to two more people with masks covering half of their faces. A piece of cheesecake for Jisung and a piece of chocolate cake for you. Because you don't care too much for either and since you are sharing he gets to take a bite from both of his favourite cakes.

But going public with the relationships mean that other people are going to judge you. And how are you supposed to defend what sometimes you are not even sure of yourself?

"Hey, I can see those gears turning, tell me what you're thinking about", Jisung hums softly. One of his hands reaching up to gently cup your face and tilt your head up a little, forcing you to make eye contact so he can give you the concerned puppy look. Big round eyes filled with worry. You let out another deep sigh.

"I'm just really not sure about the whole thing. About us." The second the words leave your mouth you already know that you could have worded that differently. Should have worded that differently. It's all wrong. You always mess everything up. Jisung looks hurt and you are flailing around your free hand as if you could catch the words midair and stuff them back down your throat to unsay them. "Not like that! I love being with you. I want to be with you. It's just... sometimes I don't feel like I actually deserve it. And I'm not sure if I can take it when your obsessed fans start attacking me for stealing you away from them when I don't even believe that I should be with you sometimes. You could do so much better. You're so sweet and talented and hard-working and just... ugh, you're so perfect it's almost irritating. What do I have to offer that could compare to that? I'm just... me."

"Hey, don't say it like that", Jisung sounds mad. For the first time, he actually seems to be upset with you. The sudden change of his expression and his raised voice actually makes you flinch back a little and he immediately softens again. "You know that I like you for being you, right? You are really amazing. Even before we started working together I always liked your music. I was actually following your SoundCloud, did I ever tell you that? And then I got to work with you and I was so excited about it because I've always admired you and when we met you were so cool and you put so much effort into our project. And I had the stupidest crush on you pretty much from day one but after you sent me that vocal guide it was completely over for me. I still have that by the way. I like to listen to it sometimes when we are both to busy to really spend time together. You're an amazing producer and probably work even harder than I do. You've put so much effort into our first album together and when you sent me that final mix I knew that it was the best thing we've ever made. I'm so proud of this album. And I'm really proud of you and I want to show you off to the whole world. But if it makes you uncomfortable we can just pull the project. You are what's most important to me."

After the whole rant – or should you call it a scolding? – you remain silent for a moment, not quite sure how to handle your emotions properly. You are somewhere between hiding your face and squealing and actually bursting into tears right on the spot. But neither seems like a proper reaction at the moment so you just sit there stunned and confused. The longer the silence drags on the more Jisung seems to become embarrassed by his own outburst and dramatic declaration of love. Just now he was saying all this super cheesy stuff with a super serious face, acting all cool and tough but now his face is mirroring the blush that is spreading on your cheeks. You can't help wanting to tease him when he looks like that.

"So, you followed my Soundcloud? Could it be that you were the fanboy all along?", you chuckle. Jisung rolls his eyes but secretly he seems to be glad that he has got you to smile again. You will have to talk this whole thing over again with him later. But right now you two are expected to go live in a couple of minutes to promote a new album. And announce a relationship.

"Oh shut up", Jisung scowls, but there is still a hint of a smile on his face. You smile back at him. "So, we have a live stream in five minutes. Are you ready?"

You nod your head without saying a word. You're ready for it now.

Jisung has just turned on the live stream but you can already see the numbers of viewers rising, surpassing hundreds within just a few seconds. The chat at the side of the screen is blowing up with comments and while Jisung is smiling and waving into the camera you anxiously read through the stream of words. It's almost too much to keep track off, comments just keep flying by, an endless stream of words and heart emojis, but every once in a while you manage to lock onto something and read it before it disappears again. Oppa, I love you! someone comments, for some reason the whole sentence is in English, including the very not English word Oppa. A bunch of viewers are just spamming hearts or trying to get attention with comments like Say hi to Brazil pls. But the comment that you see appearing most is some variation of who is that??? Jisung must have noticed it as well, he's chuckling a little to himself while he is scanning the comments.

"Oh, you want to know who this is?", Jisung looks over at you with a wide smile before he turns back to grin into the camera, a stream of comments and hearts flooding the side of the screen. His natural charm amplified with the live audience happy to interact with him. "This is my partner. We have some really exciting news for you!"

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Chapter 6! Honestly the feedback has been so kind. Thank you to everyone still giving it a go :)

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: Slow burn Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes

Chapter 6

From a young age Hosea could see that washing and sewing wasn’t going to be my lot in life. I admire Susan for her ability to keep any camp going despite our circumstances and I do help out here and there but no, Hosea decided early on that my talents would lie elsewhere.

When I was 7 he took a considerable amount of money out of the camp funds to purchase me a fountain pen. Only the rich folk had them so without a lavish plan he wasn’t going to be stealing one. “Now I see all those little writings you’ve been doing. You got good penmanship,” he told me. “This, this right here will be your gun. I’ll teach you to write properly and then you’ll help me with a few things”.

I felt so useful! After that I’d spend 5 or 6 hours a day reading and writing with Hosea. He’d have me copy people’s handwriting from Dutch’s cursive to John’s chicken scratch and that’s how I found my place. So along with the general thieving, when something needs forging, like a letter or a bond, they come to me.

Since Blackwater there hasn’t been much of that but Hosea has made sure that I kept on top of my craft so to speak. In Colter I had to use Arthurs pencil and journal since we didn’t have any ink. I’d work from the back of the book as to not see any of his private stuff and he trusts me not to go sneaking through it. We lost pretty much everything in Blackwater but my pen, my pen I kept with me the whole time.

Although despite Hosea’s wish, Arthur decided that an actual gun should be my gun, you know, just in case. He gave me my revolver when I turned 10 and took me out shooting whenever he could. If he couldn’t then John took over although Arthur wasn’t always thrilled about that. He used to say that if I spent too much time practicing with John, I’d probably come away with a few bad habits. I think that was more about their bickering than anything though.

I lost that gun when we fled but was given a new one a few weeks ago. Something that I’m extremely happy about right now as I sit waiting for Micah to return with our drinks. He rode us to a dingey little saloon in the corner of nowhere and told me to grab a table. As I walked through the busy bar, men’s heads turned my way. I have to say, their leers aren’t flattering in the slightest.

“1 beer and a whiskey shot for the lady” Micah says as he puts them down in front of me and I thank him. He sits down across from me and takes a long swig of his bottle. Rum I think.

“Won’t lie Mr Bell, I’ve been to some iffy places but this one probably comes out on top.” I laugh and start on my beer.

“Ah it ain’t so bad” Micah chuckles while looking around “and why we at ‘Mr Bell’ again?”.

I shrug and give him a coy smile “I dunno….kinda like it. Has a nice, authoritative ring to it. Don’tcha think, Mr Bell?” I ask while I lean on the table with my elbow and put my chin in my hand. I have no idea what’s got into me but I kinda like it. So does Micah apparently.

“Oh really now” he smirks “well…” but before he can continue, our eye contact is broken by the appearance of a young woman in his lap. I’m no stranger to working girls, I’m an outlaw for goodness sake, but I’ve never had one try to seduce the man I have a stupid crush on. Urgh, ‘crush’, how old am I!? I like him. I think. This would be the perfect opportunity to find out if there wasn’t a very, very, sexy woman in the way.

“Hey sweetie” she drawls while winding her arms around Micah’s neck “Ain’t seen you in here before.”

My stomach drops when Micah hums and puts his hand on her waist, “We’re just passin’ through” he says smiling that sickening grin men do when they’re feeling flattered. For a moment I consider slumping back into my chair and just downing my beer. Run out to Jett and be home before dinner.

But before I can actually make good on my despair, Micah carries on speaking. I down my shot, and his, while I continue to listen.

“And I’m just having a drink with the lady here so,” he says, patting her waist “be a pal and hop off.” I can’t help the smile that graces my face and when the woman turns to look at me, I take a sip of my beer to try and hide it. I do however frown when she scoffs and glances around at the clientele in the bar. To my disgust, a few men are still looking my way.

“Oh darlin’ there’re plenty of men here that would suit this little doll better. They like the inexperience. Why don’t we..” but before she can finish her sentence Micah tightens his grip on her waist, somewhat painfully if her face tells me anything, and brings her close.

“Well, darlin’,” he mocks “let whoever they are know, that if I even so much as see them looking at her, they’ll die cockless.” he finishes with a growl. Micah roughly shoves the woman off his lap and she almost collapses onto the floor before finding her feet. She just spares me once last glance, fixes her dress and saunters off to her next mark. I watch as Micah takes one of his pistols from his gun belt and slams it down hard onto the table, causing the few leering men to turn back to their drinks.

“Take your gun out” he barks and it almost makes me jump “you show people you won’t be got and they don’t even try it.” He nods towards my satchel and I take out my revolver placing it on the table. He laughs, “Oh sweetheart, we need to work on your poker face.” And I can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Apologies, I don’t have as much experience in intimidating drunken men as you clearly do” I smirk. Micah hums and takes another drink from his bottle.

“You know, you um, could’ve. If you wanted to. Free country. Well, you know what I mean” I say and despite my best efforts it comes out a bit shaky. Micah just watches me for a moment with that look on his face again. The one that makes me feel like I’m speaking a foreign language. Before I can ask why he looks so confused by what I’ve just said, he’s changed the subject.

“So how’d you know you won’t be in trouble with the boss-man once we get back?” and it takes me a second to catch up with the change in topic.

“Oh, well, when Dutch and Hosea go fishin’ they’re gone till dark. Sometimes Hosea likes to stay out even when it’s dark so I figure if I’m back before evening I’m safe.” I explain. Micah nods and finishes his drink. I down the rest of mine and ask if he wants another.

“Why not. We’re on an adventure after all” he says while lighting a cigarette. I get up and walk with my money to the bar. I turn around while waiting for the bartender and see that Micah has shifted to sit more next to my chair than opposite. It’s so nice not to be coddled. I didn’t have to fight to get my own drink and despite the fact that he’s obviously moved to keep an eye on me, it feels more comforting than suffocating.

I get our drinks, I buy us a couple each, and take them back to the table with absolutely no interactions from the men around me. Won’t lie, it was a confidence boost. They all know it’s not worth their life to bother me.

“So” I start when sitting down “I think we should play a game.”

“What kinda game?” Micah asks warily “Roulette?” he says holding up his gun. I roll my eyes, “No, has to be something difficult for you. I know you’d jump at the chance for an adrenaline rush.”

“You know me so well” he laughs and I shake my head.

“Actually Micah, I don’t. But I’d like to.” I reply and really hope he catches onto my attempt at flirting, but all he does is clear his throat and gives me that ingenuine huff of a laugh he does sometimes.

“Ain’t no woman wanna know Micah Bell” he scoffs and takes a long swig of his drink.

“Well” I say cheerfully “this woman does. So, lets play. Ask me anything.”

“That the game? Questions?” he asks and I just smile. “Yep. And if for some reason, we don’t want to answer a question, we have to do a dare.” I explain and with that Micah laughs and holds his hand out to me.

“Alright, game it is. But only the truth.” He whispers and I agree, “Only the truth.”

Micah takes all of 2 seconds to decide his first question for me and as I thought, he’s trying to shock me. I figured out very quickly when he joined the gang that he’s always trying to size people up. What their weak spots are, what makes them retreat. I don’t know why he does it but the only way to find out is to remain unshocked. Well, try to.

“You a virgin?” he asks and I’m not surprised considering our little chat with sexy, working girl not long ago. “No” I say simply. I did promise the truth and he smiles like he’s surprised by my honesty.

“My turn. How many women have you slept with?” I ask figuring I’d stay on topic a bit. I’ve only had 2 beers so I can’t be drunk but that giddiness is back making me feel like I am. Micah pretends to think looong about his answer. “Oh hurry up” I laugh and throw a stray peanut from the table at him.

“I’m just making sure I tell the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth” he says holding his hand up, “Uh I’d say somethin’ liiiiike. I dunno. A lot. 100 odd maybe”. I have no idea if that’s his attempt to shock me again but I just nod and have more of my drink. “Your go” I say after.

“Hmm okaaay” he squints at me like he’s picking a question from somewhere on my face “You happy?” he suddenly asks and my attempt to remain composed is long gone. I was mid sip of my drink and I inhale causing me to cough. Micah laughs and leans forward patting my back a bit too roughly. “There ya go” he laughs when I stop.

“Jesus Micah, in a million years I’d never think you’d ask somethin’ like that” I wheeze out while wiping my mouth. Micah laughs and gestures for me to answer. Why has he asked me that? We went from 100 sexual partners to ‘are you happy’ in the space of a few seconds. Well done Micah, you’ve shocked me.

“Umm, Iiiii, wow,” I laugh humourlessly while looking at my beer bottle “that’s. That’s a question.” Is all I can think of to say in the moment. Micah, again, surprises me by staying quiet. I didn’t know he was capable of not making a comment. I clear my throat and meet his eyes awkwardly. “No” is all I can muster. I shake my head as if I can clear it that way and decide to just get us back on track. Well, on my track. I take a long glug of beer and ask my next question.

“Did Bill really threaten to tell Dutch if you didn’t follow me?” I ask and Micah chuckles.

“You’re quick ain’t ya?” he laughs and the compliment, at least I think it’s a compliment, makes me smile. “No, he didn’t”. I open my mouth to ask why he followed me then but Micah cuts me off.

“Ah ah, my turn.” He reminds me and jumps right in with his next question. “Who do you hate the most in the gang?”. I groan and put my head on the table which I instantly regret. It’s gross. “Come on sweetheart. Gotta be honest now!” he chortles.

“How did I not see this coming!?” I groan but have to laugh along with him. He’s persistent in his need to know that everyone is just as dysfunctional as he his. “Okay, I’ll be honest….at the moment I really don’t like Dutch.” I answer.

Micah opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off, causing him to chuckle louder. “Oh! And Strauss. He’s always kinda creeped me out. And jeez can Pearson wash once in a while. All the other men manage to. Well maybe not Uncle but he’s, ya know, Uncle.” I blurt out and Micah shoves my arm.

“Wow once we get ya started it allll comes out” Micah laughs and honestly, it’s infectious. I clap my hand over my mouth and stifle a snort. Seriously, 3 and a bit drinks in and I’m fine complaining about them all. There’s just something about Micah that makes me feel safe to admit out loud what I only record in my journal. But I really need to be careful. I scold myself internally at my loose mouth.

“Okay,” I shake my head “you can’t tell anyone.” I say and make direct eye contact. He smirks but doesn’t respond. “Please?” I ask more seriously. Micah just gives me one nod. Which I feel is his code for, I promise. We’ll see I suppose. I guess I can always pretend like he’s lying. Stop thinking about it!

“Right, my turn.” I say while starting on my last bottle. I don’t know if it’s because we’re out in the middle of nowhere with no one we know around, but I’m feeling emboldened by the feeling of freedom. I clear my throat and lean into Micah.

“Do you see me as that woman does? Just a young….‘doll’?” I ask quietly and I realise as soon as the words leave my mouth that I’m scared of his answer. Why did I ask that!? God, how stupid can I be. Of course he does. Everyone does.

Micah takes a deep breath and seems to inhale the remains of his last drink before taking mine and having a swig. He clears his throat and leans in close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips. He smells of the smokes he’s had since being here and whiskey. God I want to touch the scar on his chin, I need to know how he got that. Maybe run my tongue over it while sitting in his lap.

I realise I’m staring at his lips when he begins to speak and I’m sure he’s noticed.

He smirks and just utters one word.

“No.”

[sunflowerdjarin]

Goodbyes

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Reader

Summary: The reader finds a box of old photographs with milestones in their relationship with Jonathan

Warnings: Mentions of being drunk

Requested:

Hi!Glad to see you back!Can I request one with Jonathan Byers throughout the years where you meet in middle school up to now?Angst with a happy ending would be really cool.

hi there love!! request for jonathan please where him, the byers and elle are moving away and you two have to say goodbye? you two are so in love and can’t imagine being apart. very sad, rip out our hearts lol

You sat on the floor in Jonathan’s room rummaging through a shoebox full of old pictures. You were teary eyed as you read the chicken scratch handwriting on the top that spelled out your name. You ran your fingers across the awful handwriting, chuckling to yourself. You lifted the top to find what was likely hundreds of pictures of you. 

They were varying from pictures of you and Jonathan at your first Snow Ball, both of you smiling awkwardly, braces on your teeth, and acne spread across both of your cheeks. You remembered how fearful Jonathan was about asking you to the dance. You remembered how his voice cracked upon asking you to go on the dance, covering it up with the classic line, “You know, as friends.” Though that night you kissed him behind the bleachers as the multi colored disco lights flooded in between the cracks. You both giggled about the fact that your first kisses were to the beat of some random disco track. For weeks afterwards, you couldn’t even look each other in the eyes. You cringed as you thought of the idea of your braces hitting against Jonathan’s teeth. 

“Getting nostalgic?” You looked up across the empty room to see Jonathan leaning against the doorframe. You sighed as you ran your fingers lightly across the pictures, “I don’t go through these pictures often enough.” You looked up at Jonathan to see him taking small steps towards you. Tears glazed over his eyes. He slid down against the wall next to you, reaching over to grab the box. “I’m glad you found the box of non x-rated pictures at least.” He chuckled to himself as you slapped his arm playfully. “Stop it.” A blush spread across your face. “I made sure to pack those pictures first.” Jonathan laughed as he leaned over to press a kiss onto the side of your head. 

You pulled out a picture of you two on the first day of high school. Both of you looked absolutely miserable. All you had was one another and the freshman year of high school wasn’t easy. “What an awful year.” You grumbled as you placed the picture to the side. “But we survived.” Jonathan added, leaning his head against yours. “Barely. Just barely.” You joked, as you took a final look at the picture on the bedroom floor. “We were all we had back then.” You remarked, thinking of how it was mainly you and Jonathan until junior year when Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler somehow infiltrated your group. 

“Oh, come on, you had friends.” Jonathan joked as he pulled out another picture. There was a picture of you sitting in the parking lot of the school talking to your friends. Your back was leaned up against Jonathan’s car, your head leaned back, laughing at whatever dumb joke your friend had said. Jonathan had known he loved you for a while, but seeing you with the sun causing your skin to have a glow, your eyes crinkled as you laughed. It was that sight that made him fall in love with you. He had to document it, and so he did. 

“You know,” He dug through the box pulling out a dozen pictures. “A lot of these pictures, I take when I think you look the most beautiful. They’re gentle reminders.” He separated a picture of you and Will from the rest of them. You had shown up on Christmas with presents for everyone, including some X-Men comics, Dungeons and Dragons handbooks, and a new set of dice for Dungeons and Dragons. Will was absolutely ecstatic. It was the first time since the upside down disappearance that had looked truly happy. Jonathan would have given up his gifts from you if it meant he saw that excited look on Will’s face. The picture itself was of you hugging Will from behind as he sat on the floor with his presents in his lap. The smiles on both of your faces was incomprehensible in Jonathan’s mind. 

You took the picture out of his hands, “I’m gonna miss him.” A tear fell from your eyes and onto the picture. You wiped your tear off the glossy picture, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry on your photos.” You whispered weakly. “You aren’t going to miss me?” He questioned as he pulled you into his arms. “Maybe a little, but I’ll miss Will and Joyce more.” You chuckled into his chest, the display of pictures being lost in both of your laps along with the empty floor. Your hand reached down to pluck at the carpet. “I don’t want to say goodbye.” You whispered pathetically into his chest. “We don’t have to yet.” 

“ And the latest addition.” Jonathan pulled one of his arms away from you to reach for a picture. It was of you from last week sitting in a random parking lot, the only light illuminating your face was coming from the light post yards away. It was dark and stark, the outline of your figure was showing, but the details of your face were lost in the night. The only thing present was your bright smile as you leaned back against the passenger door, your feet in Jonathan’s lap. You had gone to a friend’s house to have a small party with friends. You had gotten a little too drunk, called Jonathan a quarter after midnight to come pick you up stating that you missed him. 

Jonathan arrived at your friend’s house only to be greeted with you happily skipping out the front door. You dropped into the passenger seat with a smile on your face. You had spent the whole car ride asking for food and telling Jonathan you loved him every other minute. Jonathan finally caved and got you food from McDonald’s before sitting in a parking lot with you while you sobered up. You were still buzzed when the picture was taken, but Jonathan could still remember the feeling of simplicity crossed with bliss. He could feel the stillness in the air as the radio played as lightly as possible. He could have lived in that moment forever. 

A knock on the doorframe alarmed the both of you causing you to snap your heads up. Will was standing at the door frame. The older he got, the more he looked like Jonathan. His lanky features, pale skin in contrast with his deep brown eyes that were bloodshot from crying. “We have to say our goodbyes.” His voice cracked, breaking your heart along with it. “We don’t have to yet.” You gave him a sympathetic smile as you motioned for him to come sit down with you and Jonathan. 

He sat down between you two as Jonathan put the pictures back into the box. The picture of you and Will on top of the stack. “Those are my favorite dice still. I kept them.” He sniffled before a wave of tears crashed over him. You pulled him into your arms as he sobbed. “I’m just going to miss you and my friends.” He cried into your shoulder. “I’ll be visiting you soon enough and I’ll be sure to bring some of your friends with me.” You kissed the back of his head before pulling away to ruffle his hair. “You won’t even have time to miss me.” You smiled at him before looking at Jonathan. “We’ll miss you before we even leave the driveway. Are you kidding?” Will laughed as he pushed himself up off the ground. 

You looked at Jonathan who was looking hesitant to leave his spot on the floor. You got up after Will, turning around to grab Jonathan’s hand. “We’ll be fine.” You told him, but it seemed more like you were telling yourself. He took your hand as you pulled him up, box of photos in the other hand. “I know we’ll be fine.” He whispered back lowly. You both slowly strolled through the house and out the front door, trying to take in the last minutes in this house before it just became another memory. 

You were greeted by Joyce, Will, and the rest of the kids. Even Joyce seemed misty eyed as she hugged you. She held her cheeks in your hands. There was so much that could be said between you two. She could thank you for being there during sleepless nights to talk to her whether about Will, Bob, or Hopper. You gave a helpful hand to El’s adjustment to the Byers’ household. You could thank her for all the nights she listened to you ramble about school, then college, your home life, and sometimes even Jonathan. The words escaped you two, but there was no need for them. She let go of you, giving you a sympathetic look before you turned back to Jonathan. 

Jonathan was leaned against his car watching Will say goodbye to his friends. The sight of him gripping Lucas was enough to shatter your heart. You turned back to see something sticking out of the pocket on Jonathan’s shirt. You tugged on it to see the picture of you from last week. Your eyebrows knitted together as you looked at him. “It’s going on my dash. Just a reminder during the drive, so you’re always there with me.” You noticed the tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to blink them back. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around him. “I’m a phone call away.” You spoke into his chest sounding slightly muffled. He pressed a kiss into your hair, “I know. I know. I’ll call you the second I get a chance.” He replied, sounding muffled as well. You pulled away to look up at him. His arms unwrapped from you moving to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Oh no, you can’t cry too. That’ll only make me want to stay more.” He held your cheeks in the same way Joyce had, pulling your forehead towards his lips. “I’ll be back with you soon enough.” You whispered with a weak smile. 

“Alright, we’ve got to go.” Joyce spoke up as you gave your final hugs to Joyce, El, and Will. Will had buckled himself into the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. El had already made her teary goodbyes and climbed into the U-Haul. Jonathan grabbed your face, kissing your hard. The kiss had left a salty taste on your lips. You two had too many kisses like this, tear filled, but still filled with emotion. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. He pulled away climbing into his car. He immediately put the picture up by his spedometer. 

“What if I just stowed away?” You halfway laughed through your tears. “Sorry, you’ve gotta watch those troublemakers for me now.” Jonathan laughed motioning to Will’s friends who were all standing around teary eyed. “You better keep Will and El safe then.” You joked back as if you were their rightful parents. “God, I love you.” Jonathan’s voice broke as if this was the final straw to leave him heartbroken. “I love you more. Be safe, and send me plenty of pictures of your new home.” Jonathan simply nodded upon hearing your words. He didn’t have the strength to say that there would be no new home for him. His home was left standing in the middle of his old driveway left giving rides home to 4 teenagers.

Taglist: 

@iluvmesomemarvelndc 

[winterromanov]

now the day bleeds - david x julia (bodyguard fic, 1/?)

David finds out that Julia has been in hiding for over a year, and there’s a reason for it. A pretty big one. 

The postcard lands on David doormat alongside unpaid bills, bank statements and menus for shitty takeaway food outlets. It’s so apparently insignificant, so unexpected, he barely realises when Charlie’s muddy school shoes plants a wet footprint over the tiny Invernetian landscape. He only notices when he bends down to look, throwing Charlie’s reading folder at the bottom of the stairs. The green bleeds shaky colour into his otherwise mostly beige hallway. It’s enough for mild intrigue, at the very least. The mud doesn’t blear the neat biro font across the back—wish you were here.

David’s forehead naturally crinkles as he looks for a name, and finds none. He’s got family close to Inverness, but none that couldn’t send a text and none that would go on holiday there. None that regularly speak to him. As far as he’s aware, he’s got no friends holidaying up there either. It’s possible that maybe the postcard was meant for next door, or over the road—but no, his address is right, down to the postcode.

“Dad!”

Ella’s voice punctures his curiosity, and he looks up to find his daughter standing irritably with her arms crossed. Her long hair is braided and she’s wearing a new blazer that’s just a little bit too big for her, but like Vicks said, she’ll grow into it. Out of protest, Ella’s rolled up the sleeves, wearing a selection of beaded bracelets halfway up her arm that definitely violate the school uniform code. Vicky had tittered about Ella’s supposed rebellion, but he’d not been that worried about it. She’s on the edge of being a teenager in a brand new school full of bigger kids. Ella was just trying to find her place, stand out a bit.

“Yeah, what is it sweetheart?” he asks, smiling tightly. Ella rolls her eyes.

“We’re hungry. What’s for tea?”

Tea. Yeah, tea, he’d have to feed them before Vicky came to pick them up. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh—I think there’s some fishfingers in the freezer. Put the oven on and I’ll be in in a minute, yeah?”

Ella sighs dramatically, as all nearly-twelve-year-olds do whenever they’re asked to do anything. He ignores her, returning to the unusual delivery, thumbing the peeling corners carefully. He’d been in his job long enough, seen enough, to know that often things were not what they seemed. Ulterior motives lurked in ordinary objects like the blood pulsing behind his skin. There was always something else. When the edge of a mountain folds over, he pulls the tacky picture back, the mossy green film shedding away into white. There’s a second detail to the card—on that the sender had deliberately hidden, meant only for the recipient.

It’s an address. His thumb traces the clear handwriting carefully. There’s no name, again, but his fingertip curls over the final letter in the postcode, and oh God—

His heartbeat stutters manically. He feels unintended tears burning at the back of his eyes, hot and hopeful yet utterly furious, because he knows, he knows, he knows. He knows there is only one person this could possibly be from. All these months—over a year—and he knows, because who else would do this?

It should have clicked straightaway. But it’s been so long. He’s been so tired, like the last year has been desperately treading through mud in the hope of finding something better. He’s mostly just found shit, tonnes and tonnes of it, but as the weeks dragged on the sheer volume of it appeared to reduce. The counselling has helped. Seeing the kids has helped. It’s by no means anywhere near finished, but it was beginning to ease. The constant ache fading into a dull throb that God knows he takes enough medication for.

David’s whole body seems to shake as he dizzily paces into the living room and falls onto the sofa. He reads the address over and over, wonders what the hell she’s been playing at all this time. It makes sense, but also makes as much sense as quantum physics. Anger flits into sadness, then into absolute fury. He wants to throw something. Smash the mirror on the wall, so his face cracks and reflects back the state of his broken head. But there’s Ella, and there’s Charlie, and he cannot afford to have a breakdown right now. He cannot afford to let Vicky take them away again. Think he’s not safe for them.

Ella stomps back from the kitchen again, but her annoyed glare softens into concern. She bites the nail on her thumb. “Dad?”

David blinks, shakes his head. He slips the postcard down the side of the couch and pretends he can’t feel it burning, threatening to burn down the whole house like a cigarette falling out an ash tray. “Yeah, love?”

“Are you… okay?” Ella’s eyes are wide, and he does his best to reinstate normality. He smiles and thinks it looks reassuring. “I tried to turn on the oven but I’m not sure how it works. Also Charlie wants chicken dippers.”

Okay, so this is easy, this is normal. He can deal with this. “Well, tell Charlie that I’ve only got fishfingers, so unless he wants a big plate of broccoli he’ll have to eat them.”

Charlie’s unwillingness to eat anything green had become a family joke. Both him and Vicky had attempted to get vegetables into his diet by any means necessary—their latest tactic of hiding them in mashed potato had failed miserably when Vicky had found mash smeared in an empty biscuit tin—so he sees this as safe territory. It works and Ella calms instantly, her grin mirroring his own.

“I’ll sort the oven,” he says, pulling himself up from the sofa, “C’mon.”

-x-

He tries to be normal through dinner. Really, really tries. He asks Charlie about his volcano project and whether his mum ever got that papier mache off the bathroom ceiling, and Ella blushes when he asks about that boy she was talking to at the school gates. He’s just Tony, she says, and he’s an idiot.

(The way Ella’s swirls her food round her plate with her fork, her head dreamily lolling onto her hand, makes David think that Tony is an idiot who his eleven-year-old daughter has probably kissed behind the bike sheds at lunchtime. God. That’s not something he’d even mildly considered worrying about yet, alongside everything else.)

But at the back of his head is Inverness.

The logical part of his brain is telling him not to go. He’s got a life here that is somehow getting back on track, and he knows trailing all the way to Scotland will undoubtedly cruelly shatter his equilibrium. And—who is she? To lead him on all these months, all the fucking grief, all the guilt and the blame and the feeling of his heart shifting like broken glass in the recesses of his chest? The suicide attempt and the dirty mercy mission that followed, his need to claw back vengeance even though every single person around him thought that he was the bomb at the heart of it all?

(And he was, in the end, but not in the way everyone thought. He did it all for her. It was always for her, in her name, her fucking posh, Tory, everything he should despise but somehow didn’t name.)

Julia Montague destroyed him. Granted, he was fractured way before their paths ever crossed, but she had him splintering. Crunching under foot. And for her to be…

Yet, somehow, this is what he thought would happen all along.

His heart is telling him to go.

After all, it was his heart that opened up to her, in those dark hotel-room nights where he clung to her bones like fabric. He kissed her manically, desperately; but sometimes they laughed, too, and he caught himself wondering if maybe this was right. Maybe this was love. Because after the bomb—there was justice, and revenge, but love sat hopelessly at the heart of it. He can’t help it. The thought of her being alive and hidden away for months as he grieved hurts—God, it hurts—but it can’t hurt more than the thought of her being dead. It can’t. It can’t.

“Dad! Your beans are getting cold!”

Charlie’s voice is cheerfully oblivious. He stuffs a chip into his mouth. David smiles.

“Ah, good spot, Charlie,” David looks across the table at his two beautiful children, thinking they are more than enough. He is so lucky to have them, these two amazing little human beings. Ella and Charlie. The product of a love that had always been fragile but then sputtered and died, but his love for his children had never changed.

His love for her had never changed, and maybe that was the saddest thing of all. His equilibrium was always going to be skewed. Whether he went to Inverness or not.

Vicky comes to pick them up an hour later. He asks her in out of politeness but fortunately she has to jet off, something about an early shift tomorrow.

As they stand in warm familiarity on the doorstep, he almost doesn’t say it. He hands her Charlie’s book-bag and Ella’s PE kit and the words sit in his mouth. A mild, September wind blows into the doorway and Vicky shivers.

“I…” he starts, Vicky’s eyebrows arching in anticipation, “I—I’ve got to go away for a couple of days. Maybe more.”

“Oh,” Vicky says, “Is it a work thing?”

“Yeah, just a work thing, nothing important. But I have to go.”

Vicky looks a little unconvinced for a second, but eventually settles. It’s not the first time he’s been away for work and every time he’s come back fine, if not better, so he can see she thinks there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe there isn’t. Maybe this whole thing is a big fat lie, concocted in his head.

It strikes him then how heartbroken he’d feel if he’d got all this wrong. It must be her, it’s got her written all over it, but what if it isn’t? His shoulder subconsciously sag as he internally lives that absolute nightmare. He’s so, so angry with her, but he doesn’t want his fury misdirected at a ghost.

Vicky’s hand reaches out for his shoulder. “You okay?”

David shakes her off, but smiles anyway. “Fine, yeah. Sorry.”

Ella and Charlie rush through, kissing their dad goodbye before trekking out to the car across the street. Vicky presses a gentle kiss on his cheek, out of friendliness and compassion, barely an ember of what once was.

“Take care of yourself, Dave,” she says, as she always does. When he closes the door, he waits at the window until they drive off. Charlie waves, sticking his tongue out. David sticks his tongue out back.

He’s going to Inverness.

He has to.

-x-

He takes a night to think it over despite already being decided. Sleep completely eludes him, his bedside clock blinking mockingly as two drags into three then four. Eventually he abandons it altogether, throwing off the duvet and packing a holdall in the muted orange of an autumn dusk. He gets the train so he can sleep a little on the road, then he hires a car once he arrives in Scotland. The Satnav leads him away from the town and deep into the highlands he’d passed through hundreds of times as a kid, all dark and grass and heather, mud on wellies and the gentle steps of his grandparents’ border collie as it ran on ahead. After what feels like hours and hours of driving, the sun beginning to set once again, he rolls up outside a small white cottage standing alone amongst sheep farmland.

There’s the possibility that this is some kind of trap, because that’s not unusual in counter-terrorism. A smarter man than him probably wouldn’t have come all the way here without telling anyone where he was going, but he’d left school with barely any Highers anyway. He clutches the postcard between his forefinger and thumb, his hands clammy and chilled. It takes him a few seconds to get out the car, although he assumes the resident of the cottage has already heard him pull up the drive.

His feet crunch on the gravel as he wanders up to the door. His knocks are short, decisive—there’s not much to hold him back now. It slowly unlocks a moment later, and his heart lurches in unspeakable trepidation.

In the dim glow of the hallway light, he’s greeted by a ghost.

And the ghost—the ghost, she’s holding a baby.

[quilloftheclouds]

WIP Questions Tag Game

Because I have to start this blog off somehow! Say hello to some random facts about One Siren’s Soul.

... what, what do you mean I could post some actual writing? Pfft, no.

I actually got this game from @thelysstener​‘s blog and thought it was pretty cool! I wasn’t tagged or anything but I really like doing tag games. Hope you don’t mind!

1: Describe the plot in one sentence

Magical things get stolen from magical people, forcing a siren, a sea witch, a pirate, and a legend of the Royal Navy to begrudgingly work together to get them back. (Aka: A study in how Quill doesn’t know how to write story pitches yet) 2: Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic for your WIP. (I definitely did not follow the “one” thing but too bad)

Sight: The soft, welcome blues of the sky peeking through clouds of a dispersing storm, the ocean below calm despite its froth of foam drifting across rippled dark water.

Smell: Salt and drying seaweed and rotting fish. And then a permeating, engulfing scent from the ocean that you can’t place or describe, like the very depths of its soul. Magic.

Sound: The howl of wind through a cave opening, a background of distant waves crashing amidst sea bird’s cries.

Feel: The crackling of static electricity through your fingertips as you smooth down the folds of your clothing on a stormy day.

Taste: The slight tang of something metallic. Is that blood, or sweat, or metal? Or all three? (Or the tears of my future readers?)

3: Which 3+ songs would make a playlist for your novel?

I’m normally better at making playlists for things but in this case I was really picky, so...

Your Bones by Of Monsters And Men (Probably one of the biggest inspirations for the overall aesthetic and just... feeling of my wip.)

Sirens by Fleurie (The name and lyrics of this song fit in both definitions of the word.)

Coastline by Hollow Coves (There’s... a happy song on this list? What?)

4: What’s the time period and location in which your novel takes place? 

Early 18th century on an alternate Earth in the North Atlantic.

5: Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded? 

So uh. Funny story about that. One Siren’s Soul was originally going to start with ‘A’ instead of ‘One’. I realized pretty quickly why that wasn’t such a good idea, and also I just like how it sounds more, now? 6: What’s the first line of your novel? 

Mmmmm this is a first draft, mate, I don’t wanna touch that just yet. 7: What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

Oh, jeez. All of the ones I really like are heavily context dependent or ridden with spoilers. In lieu of those, have a somewhat-kinda-funny one:

“Colin! Nice to see yer up. Or, well. Down.” - George, right after Colin falls flat on his face in front of him.

8: Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole? 

~Spoilers are fuunnnn~ 9: Who are your character(s) face claims? 

I’m definitely not the most set on these (especially for Io and Dione), but:

Celestine - Amandla Stenberg

Colin - Booboo Stewart

Phoenix - Enam Heikeens Honya

Dione - Maggie Duran

George - Johnny Harrington

Isabel - Camila Cabello

Io - Kirby Griffin

Rose - Nivetha Pethuraj

I have no idea for Io or Sheila or Alixandre yet, oops.

10: Sort your characters into Hogwarts houses.

For some reason these sorts of things are always tough for me? I myself don’t fit in only one so I think that’s worn off on my characters. Here’s some approximates, though:

Gryffindor: Phoenix, Isabel, Colin

Ravenclaw: Dione, Alixandre

Hufflepuff: George, Sheila

Slytherin: Rose

I can’t decide whether Celestine is in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and Io’s stuck somewhere between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

11: Which character’s name do you like the most?

Chichima is probably my favourite. Who’s that, you ask? Nyehehee.

Including full names it’d probably be Phoenix Solarin because if that isn’t the most over the top thing to name a pyro I don’t know what is.

12: Describe each character’s daily outfit:

I’m just... gonna do my PoV characters, since I have too many characters in general, and fashion (especially historical) is not my strong suit.

Celestine: Maroon, long-sleeved dress; long, cream woolen scarf; and a pair of dark brown, lace up leather boots.

Colin: Simple white tunic; red and multi-coloured knit sash around his waist; brown trousers; and black cavalier boots (but to be honest he goes barefoot way too often).

Phoenix: Simple white blouse; bright red sash around her waist and as a headband; dark trousers; and buckled black leather boots. She gets a scarlet frock coat with gold trim later on.

Dione: Honestly, I have no idea how to describe Dio’s clothes. Other than black felt boots and a light green dress-like thing, I know she has a billion hidden pockets and a giant, hooded, fur and wool cloak that covers over all of the rest of her clothes so you can’t even see them. I dunno.

13: Do any characters have any distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Phoenix has a tattoo of crossed cannons somewhere (and also her, you know, vitiligo), George probably has a couple sailor’s tattoos as well, Isabel only has one arm, Celestine is missing her whole left eye, and Io has very distinctive scarring that she hides and is totally not going to become plot important at all.

14: Which character most fits a character trope?

Maybe Sheila? She’s the sweet and kind old lady shopkeeper who has all the best juicy gossip for our main cast to conveniently learn of.

15: Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Dione. Just. No competition. She writes poetry in her free time. She keeps a diar—I-I mean journal. Also she has actual training in writing but you’re not supposed to know that so shhh. Worst is probably Colin. He can barely read due to his dyslexia and as a regular deckhand he never really had the need to learn anyways.

16: Which character is the best liar? Worst?

You’d think it’d be actual thief and criminal Celestine but no, it’s Phoenix. Also another character I can’t mention because spoilers. Worst would be Colin. That comes up a lot. Sorry, Colin.

17: Which character swears the most? Least?

Rose. Swears. A LOT. Celestine does in Spanish. Least would probably be Alixandre because he’s just... too sweet. Too innocent of a boi.

18: Which character has the best writing? Worst?

Dione also has the best handwriting, since spoiler reasons but also she’s just like that. Colin’s handwriting isn’t the best, but it’s actually Io’s absolute chicken scratch that takes the cake for the worst. You wonder how people can even read her ship logs.

19: Which character is the most like you? Least like you?

Fun fact: Colin was originally based on another character of mine that was originally based on a sona form of me. So. His clumsiness is a new development, I don’t have that, and I’m apparently really good at lying, so there’re some differences. (Also I’m a writer and he can barely read. Oops.) But that obliviousness? That absolute clueless, distractibility? That inability to sit still? Those terrible puns and attempts at being socially adept? That’s me.

20: Which character would you most like to be?

I think Phoenix? You’ll find out why that is in the book, ‘cause her true personality isn’t quite the one people think of her as having, but... yeah. Phoenix is fun.

I’m gonna ignore the rules like a rebel and not tag anyone, so I’ll just tag everyone who wants to do this, instead!

Want to learn more about One Siren’s Soul? You can find the page here. I’m going to be starting a taglist soon, too, so let me know if you’d like to be added!

[thequeenofcronuts]

Secret Santas Part 2

Four Part Series

Catch up! Part 1

Choices: THe Royal Romance

Characters: TRR Gang (MC is Kristina, horse is Enchanting Fate

Type: Fun Fluff, Christmas Related, Game

Word Count: 1,854

A/N: In this four Part series play along with the TRR Gang and see if you can guess who their Secret Santa is along side them.

Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, I just have fun with them.

—————————————

Friday morning Liam makes his way into his office. Opening the door he sees a festively wrapped box on his desk. An excited grin crosses his face. Liam studies the gift before picking it up. The wrapping paper is exquisite, but there wasn't a ribbon or bow, it’s just elegant. A card type and printed out is addressed to him from “Your Secret Santa”. Already Liam was enjoying the mystery. What would it be and from whom. He gently picks up the box and feels its moderate weight. Not really getting any clues, he opens the gift to find a gorgeous bocote wood and bubinga wood chess set. It's obvious that this chess pieces are hand carved and the board is beautifully inlaid wood.

He immediately sees that the Cordonian Crest has be carved into the middle of the board. When he picks up a piece and turns it in his hands to admire the craftsmanship he sees that the bottom of the piece has also been carved with the Cordonian Crest. The same is true for all the pieces. Liam sits down in his chair and looks at the set which is a work of art its own right. He imagines a game with one of the guys as he has a glass of scotch. He thinks that maybe it won't be too hard to figure out his Secret Santa.

—————————————

Kristina has had a very, very long Friday. She’s extremely tired, and wants a glass of wine and her husband. As she walks down a long hall to her and Liam's royal apartment, she sees something on the floor at the front door. With caution she begins to move forward to see a plain green wrapped present with a bright red bow. She looks to the guard who nods as if to say it's safe. She picks up the gift and reads the tag which is in handwriting she doesn't recognize, which simply reads, “Your Secret Santa”. She had been focusing on her hectic week and finding the perfect gift for her secret Santa gift she hadn't even realized that she didn't receive her gift yet.

She takes the square box, which fits in her hands, into the apartment and excitedly sits on the couch. Not one to contemplate the whole “What could be inside thing” or “How the person wrapped the gift” she rips it open. She finds a beautiful blue leather box that is obviously for jewelry. This just keeps getting better, she thinks. She opens the box to see a striking vintage Art Deco Hamilton cocktail watch. The white gold is as bright as the day it had been originally purchased. The beautiful bracelet band rested at the top and the base of the unique and distinctly Art Deco square watch face. Where the band and face of the watch met, there were three delicate scrolls of white gold each with a round diamond in the center. Kristina couldn't take her eyes off it. Finally she see a note in the box, “A vintage working watch from a renowned American watch maker given to the new Cordonian-American.” She simply cannot wait for the next Christmas event.

—————————————

Hana had been waiting for her gift form her Secret Santa all week. She loves this time of year and every aspect of it. She loves giving more than receiving, but this game is too much fun not to get into. Since it's Christmastime she was more than happy to accept Kristina's invitation to stay at the palace so Hana wouldn’t have to travel between there and Valtoria for all the holiday events. It was late in evening that Friday night when she hears her phone ping. She looks at the screen and the message is from “Secret Santa” telling her to look outside her door. She cracks her door to see a package in gold glittering wrapping paper with a matching gold glittered ribbon and bow. She cannot contain her excitement, and picks up the gift bouncing her way to her bed.

Leaping onto the bed she places the gift down and studies it. Every side, every bit of ribbon and bow. She notices the seams meet perfectly and how the tape is virtually invisible. She really doesn't garner any other information or clues from her assessment. Either one of the ladies wrapped it, or one of the guys had it wrapped for them. If it was one of the guys, she wasn't sure that Drake would pick the wrapping even if he didn't have to wrap it. Of course, she knows every aspect of the wrapping and the gifts she will receive tell which friend is her Secret Santa. Hana never guesses, she figures out all puzzles.

She opens the gift so delicately, really only the way that could be done by Hana. After unwrapping and opening the box she sees matching glittering gold tissue paper as the wrapping. She thinks to herself if this is one of the guys they obviously had a lot of help, or is an extremely thoughtful person. Once she pulls back the tissue paper she knows from one glance she loves it. She pulls out a shimmering gold tee length, A-line dress. The sleeves are three quarter length and the neckline is a perfect V-Line. It was designed by the Parisian designer Lancelin St. Claire! She tries it on, and it fits perfectly. The bodice is slightly formfitting, but just right for Hana tastes. She feels like she just stepped off the screen of a 1950’s movie, and she adores it! It’s a beautiful, tasteful dress which is perfect for the holiday season.

—————————————

Drake is heading out to the stables to check on the temperature for the horses, and checks in on Kristina's Enchanting Fate. Out of the corner of his of his eye he sees a large, but not skinny, long box wrapped simply in brown paper and tied with twine. He goes over to it and takes it out of the stall and sees written directly on the paper of the package, “From your Secret Santa”. Drake knows the writing, it's Leo’s. Leo has come for a holiday visit and he seems to have gotten himself roped into some Secret Santa’s antics. It's too obvious for it to be Liam. He guesses it could be Hana, she would know the perfect way to wrap a gift that fits his personality. He stops, and thinks to himself what the hell is he even doing. I’m not at all interested in this crazy Maxwell FriendFest or whatever this thing is. He goes on to do what he came to the stable to do.

Before he leaves he sees the box and can't help remember his birthday at the western themed bar with his friends. He still kinds hates admitting it, but it was nice to have them to celebrate things with. He sighs and goes to the box. The twine is tied in a plain old bow that he easily undoes. He unwraps the gift to see another “Leo note” taped to the top of the box which has written “Brown paper packages tied up with string, here's something new for your favorite things.” He opens up the box and sees a brand new fishing rod, line, a full tackle box, and a set of fishing tools. All top of the line quality. This is the nicest fishing equipment he's ever owned, and the gift wasn't whisky, so someone really took the time to figure this all out.

—————————————

Olivia received a note from her Secret Santa to be at the boutique at 4pm. She saunters in at the appropriate time only to find it empty. She waits for fifteen minutes, which was fifteen more minutes than she intended to. Oh, real funny Secret Santa, she mutters out loud. As she turns to leave something near the changing rooms catches her eye. She walks over to the red package with a black bow and sees on it, “Yours truly. Secret Santa.” She thought it would be smaller. This is too big for jewelry. It's the size of a shoe box. She rips the paper and opens the box to find a ton of tissue paper. So much that while she pulling it all out she almost missed the red velvet pouch. This is more like it she thinks to herself. She opens the pouch to find a bracelet with the most brilliant black and red stones. The bracelet is an intricate horizontal sword. Engraving on the back reads, “Never underestimate the power of Olivia, fools.” The clasp is easy and she as the bracelet on immediately. Her face is absolutely beaming, until she steps out of the boutique composing herself.

Walking down the hall she is amazed that her Secret Santa actually did a semi decent job. Ok, she admits only to herself, they actually did a damn good job. Definitely someone who knows her well, isn't a screwup, and has taste almost as good as her own. She looks at the tip of the blade of the sword as she admires the bracelet again. Hmm, this is actually sharp, I can use this as a weapon and a piece of jewelry. She smirks as she continues down the hall.

—————————————

It’s late and Maxwell needs a snack. Everyone knows, of course, that his go to late night snack is ice cream. Mainly because he tells everyone. When he gets to the palace kitchen and moves toward the freezer he sees an eight and a half by eleven envelope taped to its door. On it is purposefully written chicken scratch which simply reads, “Maxwell - S.S.” Maxwell is now completely fired up. He snatches it and opens it as fast as he can. He pulls out all sorts of paperwork and some pictures which he can't look quick enough. He reads all the pamphlets, certificates, and looks at each picture.

He can't even begin to contain himself and yelling at the top of his lungs, “BEST.SECRET.SANTA.GIFT.EVER.” He looks at the certificates again, each one reading the same way, “We thank you for your love of one of the world’s most amazing creatures, the hippopotamus. We are delighted to let you know that a hippopotamus has been adopted in your name and will be protected by the support of you and others like you.” Each certificate has a different name for a different hippo, five in total. Maxwell scoops all of it up while he runs yelling, “My Secret Santa is on Point!!” He stops running, spins around, and goes back for his ice cream, then heads out with a bounce in his step.

—————————————

Next week, Part 3 is the second week of gift giving. Do you, dear readers, have any guesses as to whose Secret Santa is whose yet?

Go to Part 3 here!

—————————————

Series Tag: @jyreusser85

[little-chimchim]

Who (F)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3202 

Pairing: Chani x Reader

A/N: Hi there! I’ve been working on this fic for a long time now. One of my good friends is the biggest Chani stans I’ve seen and she’s been wanting this fic for a very long time. So I hope you guys enjoy it, I love you all - Kay

Dedicated to: @haybob17

Waking up was the hardest thing to do. You were disoriented, unaware of where you were or what had happened to you. You remembered the blinding, white lights of the hospital room as you peeled your eyes open for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

You were terrified, surrounded by nothing by the blank white coloring of the room, and ecstatic nurses that ran out of the room to inform the doctors that you were now awake. Doctors soon rushed into your room, adding more white to the room. They flew in with their branded stethoscopes, and blank charts that had been waiting for you for god knows how long.

“Hello Y/N, can you follow this light for me?” Said an old, bearded man with a pressed white coat. You looked up to him, your brows furrowed in confusion. Something about what he had said had thrown you off completely, it confused you more than being in the room.

You thought about it as you moved your eyes around to follow the yellow light he shined in your eyes. As he clicked the flashlight off, it finally dawned on you what had bothered you so much.

He had called you, Y/N. Y/N. Was that your name? Was that your identity? Were you supposed to know that name? You spaced out as you mulled over the thoughts of who you were. You wanted to scream out, to cry out in confusion because you simply couldn’t remember what your name had been.

The same bearded doctor pressed the surface of your shoulder slightly, prompting you to lean back in your hospital bed. “It’s okay, Y/N. Your vitals are good and so are the functions of your nerves. For now, just go back to sleep. We’ll bring you some food in about an hour.” He reassured you kindly.

The doctor turned to the nurse and pointed to the phone outside the hospital room. “Call the fiancee,” He whispered to her. The nurse nodded her head and scurried out of the white room.

As she left, you couldn’t help but to feel your eyes become heavy once again. You clamped your eyes shut and soon became washed over with sleep.

When you woke, a young man was sitting, hunched over, in a chair next to your bed. His knee was shaking nervously while he played with his fingers as a distraction. “Hello?” You managed to muster out, your throat was sore, and dry from dehydration.

The man shot out of his chair, nearly tripping over the plastic material in the process. “Y/N,” He cheered, a large smile spreading across his face. His cheeks, pale just a moment ago, were flushed pink from the excitement he was holding.

The man bent over and reached for the dusty pink cup filled with water, a neon colored straw poked out of it. “Please, drink something,” He urged you as he lowered the straw to your cracked lips.

Even though you didn’t know the man in the room, you complied with his wishes. He seemed to know you though, judging by the excitement in his tone every time he called out your name. Once you finished taking a drink of water, you scanned the man up and down, soaking in every feature you could see.

He was a handsome man, that would be evident from a hundred miles away. His black hair fell lazily into his brown eyes, and his nose scrunched up everytime he smiled. He spoke with the deepest voice you had heard, it sounded as if it had been coated in honey, or anything remotely sweet. You felt as if you should know this man, as if he held an incredulous meaning in your life once. Though, you couldn’t place a name to his face, or the meaning behind why he had been so happy to see you.

“Who are you?” You coughed as your voice slowly came back. The man frowned, nodding his head slightly. He scootched the plastic chair back out and sat down in it again, his once vibrant smile now nowhere to be found.

“I’m Chani Kang, and you’re the love of my life.”

He had wrote his confession in a note. His handwriting looked like chicken scratch on the ripped lined paper. It was juvenile and innocent, something to be expected from nervous ten year olds.

“Do you like me?” It read in fine, black ink. There were three boxes underneath the question, all labeled as “Yes.” You looked up from the piece of paper, your brows knitted together in annoyance.

“Kang Chani, you didn’t give me a choice to say no,” You grunted as you started to draw in your own box, with the word “No” printed out boldly. Chani gasped in shock as he watched you modify his note.

“But you were supposed to say yes.” He mumbled as he took back his piece of paper. You grinned up to your friend, flashing him a devious smile. Truth was, you wanted to check all three boxes, claiming that you really did like your friend, but you wanted him to chase after you just a little more.

“Maybe someday, Kang Chani” You grinned as you handed him back his favorite black pen. Of course it had just been something you had said in the moment, but he was holding you to your word.

“I have to be the only fifteen year old on this planet that hasn’t had their first kiss.” You mumbled into the bowl of cereal you had taken from Chani’s kitchen. Your best friend looked up to you from his place on the living room floor and laughed.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N? A ton of people haven’t had their first kiss yet.” He objected loudly. You stared him down from your place on the couch, giving him your signature, ‘You have to be kidding me’ stare.

“Name one person,” You challenged him. You leaned over and set the bowl of soggy wheat crisps over on the coffee table as he thought about ways to prove you wrong. “Well, for starters, there’s me.” He began.

Your eyes widened in shock, you had been sure that Chani had had his first kiss already and you were a little shocked that you had been wrong. “You? What about Jisoo, didn’t you kiss her?” You questioned as remembered his previous girlfriend.

Chani shook his head slowly, “Nope, we never made it to that point.” Chani informed you, proving your previous statement wrong. You laughed in response to this. You ran a hand through your hair and lowered your head. “We’re losers,” You sighed as you thought about how neither of you had experienced the infamous ‘First kiss’.

“What’s so great about it anyway?” Chani grumbled. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch, just right in between your legs. “It’s just a kiss, aren’t we supposed to have hundreds of them through our lives? What makes the first one so special?”

You shrugged your shoulders. You brought your hands up and started to play with your best friend’s black locks. “I think it’s symbolism for the ending of childhood. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You groaned.

Chani perked up his head and turned around to face you. “What if we got it over with? The two of us? We’re best friends so it should be weird, right?” You stared back at him in shock, was he truly suggesting that the two of you be each other’s first kiss?

The thought was tempting, and as you raked your mind, you couldn’t find a single reason not to. You nodded your head, still rendered silent from his sudden offer. “How are we supposed to do this?” You asked. Your eyes started to trail down his face, until they landed on his rosy lips. Never had you thought about him the way you were thinking of him right now.

You had never considered him handsome, and you had never considered kissing him. Though, right here, right now, you were seeing your best friend in a different light. You were seeing him the way everyone else around the two of you saw him. Absolutely beautiful. Your heart started to race while your palms became clammy.

It finally hit you, you were about to kiss your best friend.

“You just go in,” He informed you, his face growing closer to yours. You nodded your head and closed your eyes, pressing your lips together as you leaned in closer to Chani. Your lips soon met. You both pulled away from each other quicker than you leaned in for the kiss. Your faces beat red, but you covered them up by your sweaty palms.

“So that’s all that’s to it?” He questioned, confused that there hadn’t been more. You nodded your head, completely stunned in shock. “Do you want to try again?” He asked shyly, a little embarrassed that he had asked you that.

Still stunned, you nodded your head and waited for him to lean back in.

He held you in his arms as his hand played with your fingers. A blanket covered your lazy bodies while you lied on Chani’s couch. It had been a year since the two of you shared your first kiss with each other. A year since you both fully realized the extent of your hidden feelings.

A movie played in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention to the action scenes playing out before you. Instead, the two of you talked like normal, just as you had always done. But instead of keeping your distance as friends, Chani held your hand as he held your body close to his.

You were in the middle of telling him a story about what had happened earlier in the day, when the words left his mouth. “I love you,” He said quietly, just enough for only you to hear him. You stopped telling your less interesting story, your mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“What was that?” You asked. You brought your fingers up to your ears and rubbed them, making sure you had heard your boyfriend clearly. “I love you,” He repeated, saying in slower, sweeter, this time.

You stayed silent, not having expected him to just blurt it out like that. “I-I love you too, Chani.” You said back to him, a large grin spreading to your face. Love. That was it. You loved this man more than words could explain, and it had taken the two of you a year to finally blurt it out, even though you both knew it had been longer than that since you had felt that emotion.

“We’re in love,” He whispered excitedly. He repeated it over and over again in his head, never getting tired of the way it sounded. “We’re in love,” You repeated his words, maybe just a bit more excitedly than he.

Chani leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you, Y/N, and never will I feel anything different.” He uttered in your ear. You were in pure bliss, “And I love you, Kang Chani.” And you were excited to say it for many years to come.

It had been a mistake. The biggest mistake that the both of you ever committed. It had been the year to end all years. Between college entrance exams, and familial deaths. From stress, to the constant bickering. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

The weight of your lives bore down on the two of your until neither of you could stand up straight and bare what was thrown at you, and as the year came to a close, so did your relationship with Kang Chani.

The love of your life, your best friend. It had been nearly three years since that night in his living room, when the two of you shared your first, hesitant kiss. It had only ever been uphill from there, perfect even. Though, all perfect things must come to an end at some point.

You weren’t there for each other any longer, so caught up in your own lives that you forgot to look back at each other. The oncoming break up had hurt you every day for weeks. You knew it was coming, and soon. You thought Chani knew too, that he was thinking the exact same thing as you.

And once it was over, you had never regretted something more in your life. He was the one you loved, your best friend, your soulmate, and you weren’t ready to let him go. It had taken you weeks to convince yourself to march over to his house and talk to him about it. To let him know how much it hurt to live life without him.

You knocked on his wooden door three times before he opened it. He had stared at you, dead in his tracks. A girl trailed behind him, like a curious puppy. She was pretty, beautiful even, and she glared at you like you had stolen her favorite toy.

“Y-Y/N, what are you doing here?” He stumbled over his words while he tried to block the girl from your view. You cast your gaze from in between Chani and the girl. Your stomach did somersaults as you looked at the two of them. You wanted to throw up.

“I- Nevermind.” You clenched your eyes shut to keep yourself from crying in front of the two of them. This was the worst pain you had ever felt. You turned around and walked to your car, ignoring Chani’s protests as he called out your name from his house.

You couldn’t understand how he moved on so quickly while you were stuck pining over him.

He came to your house later that night. You trudged over to your door, wearing old sweatpants and a stained old t-shirt. Your eyes were red and swollen, caused by many hours spent crying.

You opened the door, only to be greeted by Chani and a bouquet of red flowers. He let himself into your house, shutting the door behind him. You took a few steps back, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” You snided, crossing your arms over your chest.

Chani handed the flowers to you, and as he leaned closer, you could see that his red eyes mirrored your own. “Chaehyun was over because I was trying to find a way to look at someone that wasn’t you. Dammit, I love you far too much, Y/N. Breaking up with you was the worst thing the two of us could have possibly done. I am so sorry, Y/N. I-” He sighed and paused so he could reached over and pull you into a long embrace.

“I love you and I don’t know what to do without you,” He cried into your neck as he held you tightly. You felt the tears play at your eyes, you raised your arms and wrapped them around his waist.

He took the words right out of your mouth.

On your fifth year of being together, Kang Chani took you to the beach in the middle of Autumn. It was freezing cold, and even the thick jacket you had brought didn’t keep out the cold of the season.

He had walked you over the water’s edge, where the waves met the sand and the rocks washed ashore. The sound of the water lapping over itself was peaceful, mimicking the sounds heard when you listened inside of a seashell.

“I was hoping it would be a little warmer than this,” He admitted as he shoved his hands inside his thin jacket. You laughed and looked at the beach, even if it was freezing cold, it was still a beautiful sight.

As you were looking, you heard Chani shuffling around next to you. You quickly turned your attention back to your boyfriend, who was now on his knees, a little black box in his hands. “Y/N, my love, my best friend, remember when I asked you if you liked me when we were kids?” He began.

You nodded your head, rendered silent by the situation. Chani smiled and opened the box, revealing a small diamond in the middle of a golden ring. “Well, you said that someday you might like me. I’m kind of hoping that you like me now because this would be a little bit awkward if you didn’t.” He joked, looking up to you with the slyest grin he could muster.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t contain your smile as it spread widely across your face. “I love you more than I can say, Y/N. Even as a little kid I knew that I would fall in love with you. You’ve been my best friend since the beginning, and I know we’ve had rough patches, but we always conquer any hardships that come our way. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Is that even a question?” You teased, holding your hand out for him to slide the ring onto your finger. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he slid the golden ringlet onto your ring finger.

When he came back up from the ground, he wrapped his arms around you and smothered you in sweet little kisses.

That was the day you were admitted into the hospital. On the way back home, a young driver, not paying attention to what he was doing, swerved into your line on the road, causing a car accident involving five cars.

There weren’t any fatalities, but you were in critical condition for weeks, having slipped into a coma due to the extent of your injuries. In that time, when you were hooked up to the machines and unconscious to the world, Chani had hardly left your side.

When you woke up, he sat by your bedside and told you every story there was to hear about your love story. He concluded his storytelling by telling you about your engagement and the reason why you were wearing a ring on your finger.

“We’ve been through all of that?” You asked him, staring at him in disbelief. The story, sounded almost too perfect, and it hurt you to think that you couldn’t remember a thing about any of it.

Chani nodded his head and grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly within his own. “We’ve been through many things, Y/N. This is just another battle we have to face. But I want you to know that I love you more than anything.” He said in nearly a whisper.

You looked to the man in front of you. Tears now running down your cheeks. “Chani, I can’t remember any of it. I want to remember it.” You cried. Chani looked up and grabbed ahold of the back of your neck. He leaned over and kissed away the tears that fell over your cheeks. “We’ll just make more memories, Y/N.” He assured you. He wrapped his arms around you and let you cry on his shoulder.

“I can’t wait to finally fall in love with you again.”

[hyannah]

Anon Archives Vol. 3

I think I already answered a similar question in a previous anon archives, but just in case - most of the time I make my own textures and I may release them publicly one day! In the meantime though, WebTreatsETC has a wonderful library of subtle grunge patterns. The trick to textures is “less is more” so the more concentrated the imperfections are, the better.

...*resolution ;; This isn’t the case with everything. Depending on the subject of your drawing you may want different consistencies. Objects and  materials like metals or concrete might require harsher textures as a guide when painting, but for character illustration I’d highly recommend the subtle approach.

Mhmm, well, I’m so bad at explaining... Let me try. I’ll make a proper breakdown one day! (awkwardly written tips under the cut)

Babies and small children have very soft features. They have round, undefined jaws, large eyes with small mouths & noses. As a child grows older, their eyes adjust and grow into their fully developed skulls but, in their early years they can look disproportionately large. You can use this to your advantage in character illustration!

Women typically have curved, rounded features but that’s not always the case. Genetics determines a whole lot when it comes to appearance, so females can inherit masculine traits and vice versa. If you’re going with a typical feminine approach, then rounded eyes, thin eyebrows and delicate chins/jawlines will help. I urge you to experiment, but start simple like this!

Men typically have more chiselled , angled bones with deeper-set features, but as I said before that’s not always the case. Low-set eyebrows and smaller eyes are, in my opinion, the part of the face that most determines “masculinity”, but sharp jawlines with high or wide cheekbones are equally important.

That being said though, it all depends on the character you’re designing. Your character’s age, weight and genetics determines a lot. Many of men have soft features and women can develop sharp jawlines, noses, small eyes, etc. Have fun!

Hey there! That’s an interesting question, because lately I’ve been fluctuating. If I’m well rested and focused, a full piece can take anywhere from 6-8 hours, but depending on the complexity of the piece and other factors like concentration levels, motivation and my mental state - a single piece can take a day or several.

Thank you very much! I wish I could have faith in my character design “process” enough to teach you in confidence, but the truth is a lot of my choices are down to intuition and my own personal aesthetics. Uhm, I can try giving you some pointers though!

It helps to have a rough idea of your characters personality, disposition or backstory first. An individual's appearance can often reflect who they are underneath. It can determine if they are well dressed, if they look after their appearance or what kind of style they carry themselves with. A sad or depressed person may look worn or unkempt. Alternatively, they may be the exact opposite - and have an immaculate complexion in an attempt to hide it from others. It’s all about their personality!

Having a “theme” can do wonders. Much like using fixed colour pallets in art, having a word, object or animal as a reference can help draw parallels between the symbolism and their design. for example:

Wolfe is made to resemble a wolf, so his hair has little tufts and his eyes are yellow. He has claws, sharp canines, and an aloof disposition

Rose, as her name suggests, resembles a rose. She has a prominently red colour pallet, a petal-like birthmark on her eye and subtle blue accents to make her details pop.

Hunter’s appearance purposefully contrasts with his profession as a priest. He’s gruff, strong, foreboding and a man of few words.

Definitely cartoon! I just got so smitten with comics as a kid, I went from still life painting to cartoons pretty quick. So quick that I never really had a true “realism” phase. But I can certainly still appreciate it.

I’m pretty sure everyone’s style is an amalgamation of the things they loved about other artists growing up. By all means, if you wish to take inspiration from my art then go ahead - it’s an honour! I only ask that you don’t copy or replicate my art. Be open to all kinds of style. Experiment and adjust. It’s more fun that way!

(Excuse the awful photo, I missed the short window of natural light Scotland gets in the winter)  I have been using the UGEE 2150 monitor tablet for maybe...a year and a half now. It was by far the biggest investment I’ve ever made on a graphics tablet but it was worth it, and is still cheaper than a Cintiq by a country mile (retailing at about £340) He’s a big boy, but he’s reliable, responsive, and feels great to work with. I had a lot of issues with SAI when I set up my dual-monitor workspace and it seems to be a frequent issue with UGEE products, but I did eventually find a workaround and the tinkering was well worth the money I saved. The screen is 21.5 inches and it weighs in at around 8kg total, so he’s not ideal if you travel a lot. However, if you have a fixed workspace environment he’s a keeper!

A Malignant without a host is pretty much powerless. They have no ability to manipulate physical matter, so words are their most powerful weapons. When a Malignant has a host and is possessing their body, they can do all the things a human can. If a hosted Malignant is apparated but isn’t possessing anything, then they can still manipulate their host’s body but nothing else. For example, if Ghasper is apparated but is not possessing Wolfe at the time, then he can still touch Wolfe, but not Hunter or Rose.

I can’t, sorry! That’s for the comic!

Uhm, well Malignants still know enough about their time spent alive to tell you all about that stuff. Their names, voices, etc helps. My ghosts don’t have genitals.

“TBoA” is the acronym for the comic and the full title will be released along with the trailer :)

Oh my gosh, please don’t ever worry about something like that! Anything people make for me is treasured deeply and put on my wall or kept by my desk. I truly care about all the support I receive and I don’t want you to ever feel like I won’t!

This honestly made my day when I read it! What a wholesome story, I’m so glad! Tell your brother he has good taste! And let your mother know she’s right!

What a delight! The more Hunters there are in the world, the better. At least for me. ;)

I dunno why this made me laugh as much as it did, but thank you for making me smile! Wolfe is...not in a good place right now :’(

I looked up the song and the band as soon I received your message and I love them both! Thank you very much for the song recommendation. I absolutely love to listen to new music.

Oh my goodness, thank you so much! I don’t deserve the praise but I really appreciate it. I’d make the worst art wife though.

Yup! I haven’t had the chance to play Warriors or Echos though ... I’m broke and I struggle to make leisure time these days.

ACE!!! You little rascal, I forgot all about this - but thank you so much! My handwriting is chicken scratch, honestly ... I do try to reign it in for my art but I have no doubt you’d soon grow tired of my lopsided, wriggly handwriting.

[sourwolfstories]

Could you list you favorites smut fics of sterek? You seen to have a pretty good taste.

There is no way I could choose and rate my favorite smut fics. There are just way too many but here is a long list of the best. Hope you enjoy!

Over the Threshold by alisvolatpropiis

This is the last time,” Stiles declares, just before he attacks Derek’s mouth with his, the kiss fevered and desperate, his long fingers jabbing roughly into Derek’s abs as he tangles them in his shirt. He pulls him close and walks them away from the front door, and in his hurried clumsiness, Stiles’ nose smashes Derek’s glasses into his face, hard enough that they smudge against his eyelids. It should be annoying, but like everything else about Stiles that should be infuriating, Derek can only find it hopelessly endearing.

That’s the thing about love, he supposes, even a love he won’t fully admit to himself, let alone to Stiles.

The Awkward Moment by stilinskisderek

…when your sister sets you up on a blind date with the one night stand you hooked up with three weeks ago who vanished without a goodbye leaving you pathetically heartbroken.

Maybe by MellytheHun

Tumblr Prompt:

my fave overheard on campus moment of all time was the two guys who sat behind me in pop culture theory

as class was starting one of them was like “so… do you want a blowjob after this” in a rly bored voice, and then the second guy was like [pause][dejected sigh] “yes”

Little talks by Vendelin

“Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.”

Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.”

It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.

In which Stiles is a stripper, and Derek is the always-polite regular at the club where he works.

Moved on from Whispers by wishingonalightningbolt

He’s not dumb. Out of everyone in the school, Derek is second in grades only to Lydia Martin, and the only reason Stiles is third is because he’s taking more APs than Derek, so his grades are suffering the slightest bit. That’s why Derek knows, when Stiles arches an eyebrow at him, why what he said was so incredibly dumb.

Stiles didn’t break into Lydia Martin’s upstairs bathroom to take a piss. He broke into Lydia Martin’s upstairs bathroom while Derek was in it, because—because of reasons.

-0-

Stiles is tired of pretending like and Derek don’t want each other.

The One Where He Pitches And Catches by mikkimouse

Derek entered the conference room, spotted the table with “M. P. Stilinski” on it, and stopped short.

Oh fuck.

It most definitely was not going to be fine.

Sitting on the other side of the table was the most attractive man Derek had ever seen, with whiskey-colored eyes and pale skin with dark moles speckled across his jawline, moles Derek was very familiar with because he’d spent two hours last night drunk out of his mind and licking them.

R U Mine? by blackstar

It hits him like that - in the middle of fiery hot sex with Derek one night that he’s in love. It’s not lust and it’s not a crush anymore, he’s very much gone on this man above him, who is now stopping his rushed efforts to bring Stiles pleasure in order to look slightly concerned.

Never Been by Lenore

Stiles gets snared in a virgin trap. Derek to the rescue!

An Error as to Meaning or Intent by LacrimaDraconis

“Care to tell me why you were suddenly hell-bent on cockblocking me? That was a nice girl back at the club, and she was actually talking to me. So you better have a good explanation for basically hauling me out of there by the scruff of my neck.”

Derek exhaled heavily, and, rubbing a hand over his face, he suddenly looked tired. “Fine. I was jealous. There you have your fucking explanation.”

three little words by stilinskisderek

“Are you gonna keep teasing me or are you gonna fuck me?”

Stiles gave him a small smile. It could’ve came out as devious if his eyes didn’t look so sincere.

“None of the above,” he said, “I’m going to make love to you.”

A Whole Strip of Condoms by eeyore9990

Somehow Stiles has managed to survive the horrors of Beacon Hills until the ripe old age of twenty. He’s still a virgin, of course, because there hasn’t really been time between school, work, and running for his life to take care of that pesky little problem.

Derek Hale — also a Beacon Hills Survivor — has sadly attained lonely bachelor status. In between running for his life, researching the latest threats to the town with his good buddy Stiles, and lingering nightmares of the outcomes of his past relationships, he hasn’t exactly been on the lookout for anyone new since Braeden.

Stiles feels the crushing weight of his family’s debt; Derek has piles of money. Derek needs to get laid; Stiles is a willing and eager virgin. It’s a match made in… well. Beacon Hills. Eesh.

Their odd little friendship has survived death threats, possession, and all manner of things that go bump in the night. Surely it’ll survive a friends with benefits arrangement.

Right?

First Time by Emela

Derek has all kinds of assumptions about what a gay relationship is like (he’s never been in one after all, and the Internet is not his friend), but Stiles shows him that there’s no rule except one: what makes you happy makes me happy.

OR

The one where Derek is nervous about having sex with Stiles, and Stiles is the best boyfriend ever.

Thump, Thump by littlefrog1025

That awkward moment when your ex brings a date to your father’s wedding…

Definitely, Not Probably by dragon_temeraire

Stiles gets hit with pollen that makes him intensely aroused. Derek helps him out.

The Giggles by the_painless_moustache

Derek accidentally discovers that Stiles does solo amateur porn.

When the Strings Attach by oblivions172

Derek and Stiles were fuckbuddies until they weren’t.

Complicated Is An Understatement by stilinski_wolf

Stiles is the 17-year-old son of the POTUS, and Derek is his bodyguard. For the past few months they’ve been together in private, and only in the last few weeks did they take it all the way.

And it isn’t just sex between them, they’re in love. Which makes their situation a whole lot more complicated.

I Thought You Would Like That by Emela

Yeah, that was pretty bad, but what was worse was having spent the last three years pretending to hate Stiles, because it was better than being the guy who failed at emotions and got rejected for them, and now Derek was locked in the same room as him under the promise they would only be let out when they “did something about their sexual tension”.

Derek and Stiles get locked in a room together at an office Christmas party and end doing something about all that unresolved sexual tension.

Derek Hale From HR by nogitsune_lichen

“Derek? Fancy seeing you here! I was just-er, getting a new chair. I think mine has a squeaking problem so…yeah I’m just gonna take a chair and–”

The man closed the door with a soft click before holding up the Captain America sticky note with Stiles’ patented chicken scratch handwriting on it. Stiles gnawed on his lip, trying and failing to come up with some sly excuse. Instead he hung his head in defeat when Derek didn’t so much as say anything or make a move.

“Enough playing around; I dig you, and it’s your last day. Meet me in the abandoned closet at one,” Derek quoted, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Stiles sighed, “okay not the best choice of words, but it got you here didn’t it?”

“Yes it did,” Derek nodded before adding, “and I dig you too by the way.”

Screwed by stilinski_wolf

Stiles and Derek have some fun times in Derek’s car, and it’s definitely a good thing that Derek has tinted windows. Stiles and Derek have some fun times in Derek’s car, and it’s definitely a good thing that Derek has tinted windows.

Bridging The Space Between Us by stilinski_wolf

Derek is a student in Stiles’ college class, and nothing should happen between them. But there’s been something brewing between them all semester.

When Derek comes to see Stiles and confront him about it, neither can resist each other for long.

Just One Night Together by stilinski_wolf

Brokeback Moutain!Au.

Stiles invited Derek into the small tent because it’s freezing outside, which leads to a culmination of everything they’ve been feeling for each other the past few months in the form of rough, hard, dry sex. And Stiles, well, Stiles would rather take whatever he could get from Derek than nothing at all.

More Than A Feeling by sweetbutterbliss

Stiles is alone on the set and eye fucking the shit out of Deputy Derek Hale, who’s been assigned to protect him. Stiles No-Last-Name is the biggest thing in gay porn since…well, Derek doesn’t actually know because Derek is straight. He’s never seen gay porn in his life. He played a lot of sports in high school so he’s seen his fair share of dicks, but not like this.

He’s just watched Stiles get rimmed for what was probably about half an hour, but felt like an eternity. The way Stiles moaned, and his eyelashes fluttered had Derek holding his deputy hat strategically to hide his deeply confusing hard on.

Prepared by ericaismeg

He gives him a cautious look, and Derek catches the way his eyes narrow as if to say dude, it’s your turn. Derek inhales a little too sharply and then the words, “I can…I can help you with that, if you want,” come tumbling out.

***OR: Jackson refuses to work with Derek anymore, so he’s working with someone new today. Did Derek mention he’s a porn star? And this new guy is mouth-watering? Because he is and he is. Script? What script?

whatever you want (but you’re gonna have to ask me) by HalfFizzbin

Stiles has a fantastic boyfriend and absolutely no sex life. He is not okay with this. (Or, the implementation of Stiles’ Secret Seduction Plan™)

i don’t believe in fairy tales (but i believe in you and me) by callunavulgari

Derek scrolls to the next picture. Stops. Blinks.

For a moment, they just freeze. He can see Stiles’ hand hesitating just next to his out of the corner of his eye, stopped mid-air, like he was reaching to take the phone back. Stiles’ heart is loud — so fucking loud — in the quiet of the loft, drowning out Derek’s own heartbeat and the many varied sounds coming in through the cracked window.

“So,” Stiles says, voice wobbly and pitched high in what’s probably mortification. “That’s my penis.”

What the Hell is a Rinse Cycle? by dobrien

Stiles is a student who doesn’t know how to work a washing machine and Derek is the one to notice him struggling and help him out. PWP.

Salty Sweet by secondstar

Derek works at a porn store. One day, Stiles comes in asking all sorts of TMI questions about different toys. That’s where it all starts.

a gift of some sorts by honeymoonmuke

A mysterious gift addressed to Alpha Derek Hale lands Stiles in a rather heated predicament.

Thinking of You by CelestialVoid

Derek might have gotten a little drunk last night. And he might have sent Stiles a very revealing video…

Aconitum Bulbus by hazelNuts

xxxAthaelaxxx asked for: “Stiles is underage like 17 and Derek’s 23. Stiles got hit by some sex pollen and needs to fuck. Derek’s the only single wolf who can do it and refuses to help Stiles since he’s underage but if Stiles isn’t cured he could die. Virgin!Stiles and Martyr!Derek.Please write in great detail the deflowering.”

They’d been having a simple pack picnic, because they did those things now. They’d just finished lunch and had decided on a game of tag.It had all been great until Stiles had tripped and fallen face first into some flowers.

If you would like more you can check out my smut tag for some more sterek goodness!

[friendandphoe]

@ahbonjour HAP BIRTH I LOVE YOU

Mags stares at the thick parchment in his hands, tracing over the now-broken wax seal with a confused reverence. Parchment and wax seals have always gone hand-in-hand with wedding invitations and royal decrees to him; the chicken-scratch that actually lives on the letter doesn’t seem like it’s worth the effort at first glance, but he’s already stopped himself from asking if the ink is, like, infused with gold or something about six or seven times after reading it. He still can’t believe he managed to forget about it for like, twenty billion years. “So, Stardew Valley.” He manages weakly, parchment trembling in his hands.

Mags doesn’t really remember much about his peepaw, honestly. Maybe the faintest hint of leathery skin and a warm smile, but the man died just before Mags went into middle school, just before The Diagnosis, so the memories were blurred and faded in favor of surgery dates and medication dosages--which, he supposes, could also account for the gap in his memory where the letter should’ve slotted in. It’s only by sheer, dumb luck that he happened to open the wrong drawer while spring cleaning and find it again; he shudders to think of what could’ve happened if he’d accidentally thrown the letter out. But as delightful as the words on the page had been, they were also kind of empty--Mags doesn’t think he’s visited Stardew Valley and his grandpa’s farm since he was like, nine or ten max. He vaguely remembers enjoying his time there, sure. He remembers a couple of the more outrageous stories--jelly monsters and glowing jellyfish and collecting grapes and berries to press into jelly--maybe he just really wants jelly, shit--and he kinda-sorta-maybe remembers cobblestone paths and thick forests and the smell of cows, but there’s not much beyond that. He’s been there before, he knows he has, but Stardew Valley is worlds away from his nine to five, more like a child’s imaginary playground than a long-dead grandfather’s gift.

The lawyer smiles kindly at him across her reddish desk, tucking a dark strand of hair back behind her ear and pretending not to notice when it falls right back out. “Stardew Valley,” she confirms, and he can’t help the thrill of home that races up his spine as she says it. “It’s about a six hour drive up north from here. There’s also a train that should get you there in about half the time. Each town has its own stops, so you wouldn’t have to worry about transferring lines if you do decide to take the farm.”

The farm. Christ. Right. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to focus on the facts. “Which town is it in?”

“Pelican Town, Mr. Taylor.” He opens his mouth to ask her to please not call him Mr. Taylor ever again, gross, but she’s already barrelling on. “It’s an excellent area, from what I’ve heard. All the Stardew Valley farms turn large profits, of course, but Pelican Town in particular has been doing especially well.” She shuffles some notes around on her desk. “Mmm, forests, river, some old mines--it’s right on the beach, too, isn’t that nice. It looks like there’s been an influx of young single people around your age group moving into the area over the past five or six years, so you needn’t worry about being the odd one out if you decide to move in. Fairly good school district, in case you’re interested in starting a family. Your grandfather also left you an inheritance of a few thousand dollars to keep you afloat the first few months, while you’d still be getting your feet on the ground. All in all, provided you take the farm, it seems as if you’ll be well set up for a happy life. A little isolated, of course, it’s a bit out of the way and it’s not exactly a popular vacation spot, but citizen satisfaction looks to be quite high. The governor certainly has nothing but good things to say whenever he has to do his annual inspections.”

He’s not really listening at that point. “And what happens if I don’t take the farm again?”

“I suppose it’d be bought for land development,” Ms. Lawyer says, and his eyes fly open. “I hear JojaCorp’s been poking around the area, I’m sure they’d pay you quite a bit to take it off your hands.”

“Nnnope.” JojaCorp can eat my entire ass, he doesn’t add.

Ms. Lawyer laughs at his vehement bark. “Well, if you don’t want to take it on yourself, you could always sell it to one of the locals, or to a farmer looking to move into the area. It’s a pretty big piece of land, I’m sure someone would snatch it up pretty quickly.” She pushes some papers towards him, still smiling, somehow missing the pit of nausea bubbling in his gut. “If you’re still unsure, take a few days to think it over. You don’t have to jump into anything right away--”

“No, yeah, I’m sure,” Mags interrupts, looking back down at the letter, at his name in his grandfather’s handwriting. His grandfather, who loved this farm so much that he left it to a kid who could barely remember it in the first place. Ms. Lawyer is looking at him like he’s nuts, but somehow, impossibly, this doesn’t feel like it’s going to crumble into disaster. “I’m taking it.”

“That was...quick,” Ms. Lawyer says after a pause, cautious, confused, probably a bit concerned. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Mr. Taylor?”

Mags nods, already thinking of all the farming research he’s going to have to do when he gets back home. “Yolo, am I right?”

Which really does nothing to reassure Ms. Lawyer, but them’s the breaks.

~*~

The bus driver is a tall, fat blonde guy with a cigarette tucked neatly behind his ear. He seems pleasant enough; he’d smiled at him when he’d first gotten on and awkwardly ducked into the seat directly behind him, and there’s some people he’s greeted so familiarly that he almost has to wonder if there are such things as bus regulars. Either way, Mags is the only one left three hours and fifty-two minutes into the ride, and he grins knowingly at him from the rearview mirror, waving to take his headphones off for a second.

“Stardew Valley, buddy?” He asks, and switches lanes when he nods. “Yeah, I figured, not a lot of people take this route unless they’re heading back home from being out of town. Don’t think I’ve seen you around before, though, and I’m pretty good with faces. You visiting?”

“Moving in,” he manages, clutching his backpack just a little closer to his chest. Would it be rude to put his headphones back in? It would be super rude to put his headphones back in. Should he put his headphones back in anyway?

Bus Guy smiles brightly. “Oh, my daughter and I moved to the Valley back when she was a baby. Best place we ever lived, honestly. Everyone’s real nice, schools are pretty good, and it’s so quiet. Best of luck moving in, kid, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” he says, and Bus Guy mercifully doesn’t attempt to draw him into conversation again, just lets him listen to his audiobooks and watch the trees flicking past thicken into groves, woods, forests, mazes. The sun is high in the sky now, and he watches the sky grow steadily more blue as some Southern belle explains when, exactly, the best time to plant tomatoes is. Does he even want to grow tomatoes? Does he want to grow anything? He read online about a girl in town who moved in a year or two ago and has made a living going down into the mines and collecting ores and stuff for her blacksmith’s shop. Maybe he could do something similar? Or there’s a bunch of shops around town, maybe he could work there and just live on the land--but that’s a huge waste of space if he doesn’t use it; maybe there’s another farmer he could rent the land to? Is that even a thing?

“Which town you going to?” Bus Guy says after another two hours, and he starts, peering through the window at the scenery around him, as if that’s going to help at all, dingus, you haven’t been here since you were, like, ten.

“Uh, uh, Pelican Town.” He stammers. Christ, he’s not usually this nervous. Particularly bad case of pre-move in jitters, apparently. “Is this a desert?” Because he really can’t think of any other explanations for all the sand and cacti, but he’s also pretty sure deserts don’t exist this far north. Like, at least ninety-eight percent sure.

Bus Guy squints out the window. “Oh, Calico Desert. There’s not much to it, really; some big business decided to build a casino something like ten, fifteen years back, and made a whole little desert town around it. Sort of a tourist trap, you know? ‘Xcept native Valleyers don’t have the time or interest to waste their money gambling, and we don’t get too many visitors, so. Casino’s kind of falling apart at this point. ‘M sure there’s some squatters or rowdy teenagers hanging around, but we haven’t heard about anything so far, so no one’s really gonna look too deeply into it. Might as well let the place rot, I say, it’s not like anyone’s gonna be using it. Town’s doing okay, though, from what I’ve heard. Speaking of, Pelican Town’ll be another ten minutes, bud.”

“Thanks.” Mags says, feeling faint. Ten minutes is plenty of time to steel his nerves, to get control of his breathing, to think of some funny one-liners to ensure the town’s gonna like him--

He blinks and it’s gone. College presentations lied to him. “Well, here’s your stop, then,” Bus Guy says, rumbling the bus up to a small, pleasantly grassy field, surrounded by reaching trees and dotted with dancing flowers. There’s a very, very, very tiny little rest stop that looks like it has one, maybe two bathroom stalls max, and a wooden sign that’s too far in the distance for him to read what it says. It’d make for a pretty quaint image, if Mags didn’t feel like he was going to vomit all over it. “Hey, looks like someone’s waiting for you!” He whistles. “Damn, what a looker.”

And sure enough, neatly seated on one of the wooden benches tucked against the street, sits a lovely dark-skinned girl, hair twisted down her back and pleasant smile gracing her round face. She looks warm and sweet, the kind of person who’d give really great hugs and gently introduce him to his new home without overstimulating him. He clambers to his feet, swings his backpack on, and steps out into the aisle, except when he looks down he’s sitting in the exact same position he was two seconds ago, and his hands are shaking.

Bus Guy glances up at him from the rearview mirror after five minutes of him thinking that he’s stood up, only to find himself still glued to the seat. “You gettin’ off, kid? Ain’t gonna keep the lady waiting, are you?”

He’s going to throw up. “I can’t believe I live on this bus now,” Mags says, staring hard at his backpack so that he doesn’t have to look at the pretty girl waiting outside.

“...uh-huh.” Bus Guy says, clearly not knowing what to do, which. Yeah, fair, Mags doesn’t really know what to do, either. “Uh. Hm. I’m just gonna--” and he swings the door open and throws himself out of the bus, probably relieved to finally stretch his legs after such a long drive. Mags swallows, hard, painful, and curls over his backpack.

It was easy, back at the lawyer’s office, to say yes, to slot himself into this community without a second thought. Easy to shed the shackles of a desk job he’s always hated, easy to bid the few friends he had goodbye and pack up his stuff and have it all shipped out and end the lease with his landlord. Now he’s faced with the consequences of his decisions, and he’s not entirely sure that’s not the bitter taste of regret in the back of his throat. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. It hadn’t felt like it, back when he was saying yes to all the terms and agreements, but his intuition has failed him before--usually on events of a much smaller consequence, though. Should he go back? But he already cut all his ties back home, stupidly, impulsively, convinced he’d love the Valley at first sight and everything would play out like a saccharine Hollywood blockbuster. He’s pretty sure Brad Pitt doesn’t get nauseous at the idea of saying hello to a bunch of strangers, though, so maybe that whole idea was doomed from the start.

“Are you okay?”

He jolts up, meeting the pretty girl’s dark eyes with stained cheeks. “Oh--oh--yes,” he stammers, clutching his bag tight. “Yeah, I’m--it’s good.”

The girl sits herself down in the seat across the aisle from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap, not dissimilar to how she was sitting before. “I’m Lark. Frasier,” and she offers a hand, which he weakly shakes. “I work at the saloon, among other things. Also kind of the unofficial greeter, which is why you’re meeting me first and not David or Emile. The bus driver asked me to come in and check on you. Guess you’re nervous, huh?”

“No, I’m Mags,” he says before he can stop himself, and Lark’s eyes crinkle with delight as she laughs, long and loud. “Shit, no, oh my god, I didn’t--that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Lark grins at him, patting his hand. “Don’t apologize, that was good. Top tier dad humor. Mags, did you say?”

He nods bashfully. “Sorry for not getting off the bus,” he blurts out, and Lark’s face grows instantly sympathetic. “It’s been. A bit of a day.”

“I can imagine,” she hums, patting his hand again. “Don’t even worry about it, Ethan was the same way when he moved in, and he was just coming in from another town in the Valley. Want me to sit with you while you collect yourself? Okay, cool,” at his hesitant nod. “Want me to keep talking?” And she launches into a story, smooth and lilting, and Mags would absolutely be lying if he said he knew what words were coming out of her mouth. He briefly catches something about some stuff gone missing, but mostly he’s just focusing on the sound of her words falling, like pearls from her lips, bursting with warmth in the stale bus air around them. Little by little, he steels himself, manages to scoot his butt all the way to the edge of the seat, then stands in one completely-graceful-and-not-at-all-stiff-from-sitting-in-one-position-for-six-hours motion.

Lark cuts herself off--he just manages to catch something about a library, he thinks?--and rises with a wide grin. “Hey, there you go! You good to head outside?”

Mags swings his bag over his shoulders, takes a deep breath. “By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West,” he says, sending a quick prayer up to Viggo Mortensen for strength, and gets off the bus.

~*~

“Thanks for sitting with me, also,” Mags remembers to say seven minutes later, when they’re traipsing up the dirt path towards the farm.

Lark waves him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You did the hard work, anyway. I’d just hate to force you into an uncomfortable situation if we can avoid it.”

He smiles, hefts his backpack a little higher over his shoulder. “I appreciate that.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t even imagine doing what you’re doing. My family’s one of the oldest in Pelican Town, we’ve been here for ages. Like, our parents would take us for vacations when we were younger, but other than that we’ve never really left, you know? I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Helps that I didn’t really like my last place too much,” he offers, because she looks like she’s going down a rabbit hole, and she flashes him a quick smile.

They walk in silence for another minute or two before Lark pipes up again. “You know, Donnie and I have made friends with a couple of the other move-ins. If you want to hang out with us and talk with someone who knows what you’re going through. Once you get settled, of course.” She pauses, then turns to him with bright eyes. “I hope you’ll like it here as much as they do.”

He opens his mouth to reassure her that he’s sure he will, that even just walking up this gross old dirt path with a rock at the bottom of his shoe has made him happier than he’s been in awhile, that even the concept of said path definitely turning into mud next time it rains gets him strangely excited, but then Lark’s pushed open a wooden gate, ushered him onto his new home, and all the breath gets knocked out of his lungs.

So, Mags’ first impression of the farm: uh, bad.

“I promise it looks worse than it actually is,” Lark says quickly, trying to hide a sheepish grin at the look on his face. He can’t tear his eyes away from the obscene amount of overgrown grass and weeds, the newly-sprouting trees already twice his height, the rocks and boulders and stumps that were clearly left by God Herself because there’s no way anything but divine intervention could’ve left those fuckers on his land. “Emile’s been trying to round up some teams to clean up some problem areas around town, but, uh. I guess Abigail and the boys have been slacking off since Emile and Beck left for their honeymoon? Christ. The soil’s still good, though, and I can round up Donnie and Fox and Alexa and Dave to help you clean up, if you want--”

“The hell you will,” says the blonde beanpole who’s just slipped out of the worn-down, tired-looking wooden cabin tucked away to their right and definitely didn’t scare Mags half to death. He didn’t think it’d be so easy for some tall guy in round wire-rimmed glasses and a beret to scare him, and yet. “We didn’t have anything to do with this mess. Get the ass squad to do it, they’re the ones who should’ve been cleaning this shit up in the first place.”

Mags finds his voice, blinking hard. “The what squad?”

Lark looks like she’s trying really, really hard not to burst into giggles. “Abigail, Sebastian, Sam. They, uh, figured out that their initials spell ‘ass’ a few years ago and they sort of ran with it. I’m sure you’ll see them around, they’re only a bit younger than us. Just look for a girl with long purple hair followed by two Final Fantasy-looking dudes.”

“They’re also a bunch of assholes, so it fits.” Beanpole says, slouching down the stairs and sticking out a hand, ignoring Lark’s click of protest. “David Peterson, by the way. Deputy mayor, officially, but I kind of do everything around here. You’ll be seeing me a lot. Sonny Magnum Taylor, I assume? Hell of a name.”

“You can just call me Mags,” he manages, quickly clasping David’s hand. “Get that hell content down, am I right?”

David cracks a smile, and Mags smiles back. “Works for me, dude. I promise I wasn’t creeping, by the way, I just needed to double-check that all your boxes got here okay. If you find out you’re missing anything, I stuck my number on the table, just give me a call. Or you can come visit me, whatever’s easiest. I’m just south of here, with the green roof. If I’m not home, you can just talk to my boyfriend, he’ll tell me what’s going on and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Thanks.” Mags says, like he’s going to retain any of that. David nods, then crosses over to Lark, asks her something, and Mags lets their conversation fade into the background along with the birds and frogs, studying his new home a little more closely. There’s a small pond tucked behind a massive stump, and he thinks he can see the framework of a greenhouse somewhere in the distance. There’s this sudden, overwhelming wave of remembering that this is his now that washes over him, and Lark and David both turn around at his sharp inhale.

“You good, Mags?” David calls, and he nods, grinning widely.

“It’s gonna be so beautiful,” he declares, holding his arms outstretched like he’s in an anime. It feels right, somehow. All of this feels so, so right.

Lark grins at him. “You thought about what you’re going to do with it?”

He lowers his arms sheepishly. “Crops, probably? What else could I do?”

David sticks his hands in his pockets. “One of our neighbors, Marnie, she sells animals. Cows and horses and birds and stuff. Maybe--”

Mags has already whirled around fully. “Birds? What kind of birds?”

“Uh, like chickens and ducks and shit, I think,” David says, raising an eyebrow at Mags’ enthusiastic fist pump. “Well, I guess that’s settled.” He remarks to no one in particular, and Lark laughs, calling a goodbye before heading back down the road towards town.

“Ducks!” Mags shouts, delighted by this turn of events. “Ducks and chooks and crops!”

~*~

Of course, he doesn’t get to march down to Marnie’s and pick up his ducklings and chicks immediately. There’s work to do, first--step one being clearing away all the mess that Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian had left to grow wild.

Luckily for him, Lark delivers on her promise to help, showing up at his gates the next morning with her dreadlocks pinned back in a bandana. “This is my brother Donnie, and this is Fox,” she says of the two men flanking her on either shoulder. Fox, a big scarred redhead with a thick Irish accent, gives him a curt nod and grabs the axe Peepaw had left behind with the property, immediately setting out to clear away some of the trees. Donnie, who manages to startle Mags with how similar he looks to Lark, despite previous knowledge that they were twins, is a lot friendlier, sticking by Mags’ side to help cut grass and clear weeds, taking on the work with the same bright smile as his sister. Lark, meanwhile, starts collecting trash and debris, starting a small mountain of black trash bags at his gate. The work is hard, sure--Mags has literally never held any sort of tool in his life before, and his hands are blistered to hell and back by noon, but it goes quick, the air mostly friendly and enthusiastic.

Mostly.

There’s a lot of teasing and friendly banter back and forth between the twins, some of which extends to Mags but most of which is directed at Fox, who’ll retaliate with a scathing remark every once in a while, but usually ignores them. Mags wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, assume that he doesn’t mean to be as scary as he’s being, but it’s certainly disconcerting to hear him telling Donnie to get his “useless ass back to work, Frasier, or yeh’ll find mah boot up there instead!”

Mags shakes his head as Fox’s broad shoulders disappear back into the trees. “He’s scary,” he murmurs, sitting back on his heels and pushing his sunhat off his forehead a bit. “He’s not even talking to me, and I kind of want to cry.”

“What, Fox?” Donnie asks, tucking a stray dreadlock back into the bun at the top of his head. “Nah, man, Fox is great! Masks his social awkwardness with a big tough-guy act, you know? Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like he means any of it. He’s not mad or anything, he’s just naturally gruff. He’s a war vet, came to the Valley to get some peace and quiet. He mostly hangs out on the beach, but Lark’s got him wrapped around her finger, so--” He trails off, waggling his eyebrows.

“Go fek yerself,” Fox grumbles, emerging from the thicket of trees with an armful of lumber, but the ruddy blush staining his cheeks doesn’t really do much to deny Donnie’s statement. His pink cheeks make Mags feel better, somehow. “Mags, where d’yeh want these?”

Mags bites his lip uncomfortably. “By the house, I guess? I don’t know, you probably know better than I do.”

Fox’s stony gaze softens ever so slightly. “Yeh’ll learn, lad,” he says, a shade less gruff than before, and traipses off.

Donnie grins. “See? He likes you, just give him some time to show it.” He’s quiet for a minute as Fox comes back into view, checks to make sure he’s well and truly disappeared back into the trees, then says, “He’s a good guy to have on your side. He stripped naked once to get me out of a fight I was losing.”

Mags chokes. “Seriously?”

“For sure, dude,” Donnie says, leveling his scythe and chopping down some grass in one smooth, practiced motion. “Justified it with something like ‘no one wants to fight a naked guy.’ Middle of winter, too, bless him. He’d do the same for any of us, you know. He’s ride-or-die. Anyway, Lark likes you, so that’s already like, five points in his book. Plus, he moved into the Valley too, so y’all can bond over that.”

“I’m not desperate to like, get in his pants or anything,” Mags says, because somehow that seems like a good way to get his ideas across.

Donnie shrugs. “Same rules apply if you were, broski. Anyway, Lark’s staked her claim, so we’d have to hook you up with someone else anyway. Don’t stress out over Fox, my dude, he’s not going to be mean to you, you’re new and adorable. Speaking of, do you want to join us for movie night tonight? Whole squad gets together on Friday nights after hanging out at the saloon for a bit and we watch terrible movies. Ethan figured out it’s, like, ten times better if we turn off the sound and make up our own dialogue for it, so that’s fun, plus we can get Toby in on it that way. And there’s always a shit-ton of snacks, Lark’s a baker. We’d love to have you.”

Mags yanks a stubborn weed out of the ground. “How many people will be there? I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“You kidding me? Lark and I have more space than we know what to do with. Please come and intrude.”

“It’ll be fun, Mags!” Lark calls, hefting another trash bag into the pile. “It’d just be eight, including you. Plus you’ll get to meet everyone! They’re all really nice, I promise. No pressure, of course, but we really would love to have you along. Fox, come and sit down for a second, don’t overwork yourself over there!”

Fox wordlessly obeys, sliding down in between Mags and Donnie. He takes a long gulp of water from the bottle Lark hands him, then wipes his mouth and says, “Might have to head out soon, got some shoppin’ to do an’ I wanna get o’er there before Pierre closes up. Got some good work done today, so.”

Mags realizes a second too late that Fox is talking to him. “Oh, yeah, no, that’s fine! Thank you--thank you all so much, I couldn’t have done all this on my own.”

Lark lays down next to her brother, flat on her back. “What’re friends for?” Something in Mags’ chest gets all warm and fuzzy at that. “I can stick around and help you unpack everything inside, if you want. It’ll go faster with two people, plus it’ll be more fun that way. Donnie, what’s your game plan?”

Donnie pauses. “Actually, I think I need to head over to blacksmith’s shop later today--”

“Yeh always need to go to th’ blacksmith’s shop,” Fox says, cuffing his shoulder. “Lad’s head-o’er-heels fer th’ girl what works there,” he adds to Mags, who starts.

Donnie puts a hand over his heart. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face and buff arms, what can I say. Why do you think I like you so much, Foxy?”

“Dinnae. Ask ‘er out already, Christ.”

“Actually, though, I left one of my knives there on Wednesday, I need to grab it real quick.” Donnie says as if Fox hadn’t just spoken, picking grass out from under his fingernails. “Ye of little faith. Mags, are you coming to movie night? Pre-salooning totally optional.”

“I, uh. Yes?”

The twins erupt in cheers. Fox claps him on the shoulder, just once, but the approving weight of it settles in Mags’ bones for hours afterwards.

~*~

David and his tiny boyfriend (“Ethan Thtone,” he introduces himself with a gap-toothed smile. “Nith to meet you!”) are also not into the pre-salooning scene, thank god.

“Not that anyone gets, like, sloppy drunk or anything,” David says, Ethan firmly tucked into his jacket, little more than a lump under his arm. “But it’s loud, you know what I mean? Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to deal with everyone. Sweetheart, you’re wonderful and I love you, but if you say anything right now I will expose you to the elements.”

“Oh, that thpring chill, though,” Ethan quips, smirking. “My only weakneth. Latht time he went to the thaloon, Donnie beat him at pool, tho now he refutheth to go back on printhiple. Babe, no!” Because David has, rather unceremoniously, opened his jacket and increased his stride so that he’s just ahead of his boyfriend. “Thith guy,” he says fondly to Mags, raising his voice to make sure David can hear him. “Can’t handle a bit of teathing, like a thcrub. How’re you thettling in, Magth?”

Ethan, Mags discovers quickly, is insanely easy to talk to. There’s gotta be something in the water here that makes everyone so pleasant. “So far so good, thanks. Donnie, Lark, and Fox were helping me clear off some of the land this morning, and Lark stuck around to help me get unpacked after that, so we’re doing okay on that front. I also started mapping out what I want to do with everything? Like, it’ll take me a bit to get the money and stuff, but I think I want to get birds? David mentioned someone has chickens and ducks for sale--”

“Marnie,” Ethan nods.

“Yeah. So I’ll need a coop, plus food and stuff for the winter. I think there’d be enough grass for them to survive off that for now, though. I need to research more into it, honestly, I don’t know enough to get them now and now kill them.”

Ethan pats his shoulder. “I’m thure you’ll do great. You could talk to Toby about it, though? Thee workth at the library, tho thee can help you find any bookth you might need. Probably.” He adds, biting his lip.

Mags blinks, partially out of surprise and partially from the sudden bright lights of main square Pelican Town. “Probably?”

“We’ve had some books go missing recently,” David says, finally stepping back behind his boyfriend and wrapping him back up in his jacket. Ethan coos happily, and David drops a kiss on top of his head before continuing, “Toby’s gone berserk trying to figure out how it happened. Near as we can figure, someone probably borrowed the books and forgot to return them, but the library also doubles as our museum, and all our artifacts have gone missing, too, so. No explanation for that. Toby’ll know more about it than I do, you can talk to her when we get to Donnie and Lark’s place.”

“Pluth you can athk about your duck bookth,” Ethan pipes up helpfully, and Mags brightens.

The Frasier’s place of residence is a huge off-white house just offset from the main square, with a dark brown roof and trim, ivy growing pleasantly up the walls and a small vegetable garden as the front lawn. The lights are on in one of the windows, and he can see Donnie and Fox carrying blankets and pillows, Lark carrying plates of food, some other girls carrying a mattress. It kind of looks like something out of a fairytale, and Mags physically stops in the middle of the street to stare at it.

“You good?” David calls back, Ethan peeking out over his jacket zipper in equal concern.

“What kind of paradise land is this place?” Mags mutters, and Ethan laughs, wriggling out from David’s grip to go knock on the door.

“Oh, shit,” David says suddenly, turning to Mags. “How’s your ASL?”

Mags blinks. “My what?”

“ASL. American Sign Language. Do you know any? I completely forgot Toby’s deaf, no one even thinks about it anymore.”

“I--I don’t know any. Is that going to be a problem?”

David shakes his head, patting Mags on the shoulder. Lark has opened the door, ushering them in with a smile. “No, don’t worry about it, we’ll get someone to translate for you. Toby’ll be more than happy to teach you, I just can’t believe I forgot about it until now. Where’s Donnie?” He asks, bending down to hug Lark in greeting.

“Kitchen, I think. Hi, Mags, how are you?” Lark says, opening her arms in hug invitation, which Mags takes.

“I don’t know sign language,” Mags says into her shoulder, and Lark makes a noise of understanding, patting his back before gently shoving him towards a wooden archway--an honest-to-god archway door thing, as if this wasn’t ridiculous enough--which, apparently, leads into one of the nicest kitchens Mags has ever been in. Jesus.

Donnie waves at him, beckoning him over to the corner of the counter he’s claimed as his own. There’s a girl perched on the counter in front of him, all legs and broad shoulders and long hair streaked with blue and green and faded silver, and Mags suddenly can’t breathe because he didn’t know actual angels were allowed to come down to earth why didn’t anyone tell him. “Hey, Mags, this is Toby. She works at the library.”

She waves at him, smiling so her nose crinkles at the tip, and Mags is gone, just like that.

Talking to Toby through Donnie isn’t as slow and awkward as he thought it’d be. Obviously it’d go faster if he knew how to sign himself, but Toby’s really good at reading his lips, so Donnie really only needs to translate the words that Mags stutters on or accidentally slurs together.

Yeah, some books did go missing, she tells him, pursing her lips. Still looking into it, but no, I don’t think any of the bird books were taken. Which ones do you want?

“Uh, chickens and ducks, mostly.”

Toby smiles. Aww, I love ducks. I can just see you with a little flock at your heels. I’ll have to come visit you once you get them settled in. Why don’t you come by tomorrow and I’ll help you look for all the books you might need. Just promise you’ll actually return them, and she gives him a little wink. He might die tonight.

“I really appreciate that,” he tells her, and she smiles that crinkle-smile again. He’s really proud of himself for managing to stay upright throughout this whole exchange, honestly. He’s about to say he can’t think of a way to thank her but no, no, he knows exactly how to thank her. “Do you want help finding your lost books?”

Toby blinks, eyes wide, then her face splits into a wide grin. That’d be great!!! Thank you!!! I’ll explain everything at the library tomorrow!! Thank you so so so much!!!

He shrugs, trying and probably failing to not blush. “Least I can do. I’ll study some sign language in the meantime, so that you don’t have to be interpretor all the time,” he adds to Donnie, who grins cat-like at him, sending a chill up his spine.

“So Toby,” he says, as soon as the girl in question hops off the counter and heads out of the kitchen. “I see she made quite an impression on you, huh?”

Mags nods, watching the sway of her hair against her shoulders, the movement of her hands as she talks to Fox, remembering the crinkle in her nose. “I’m going to marry her,” he says, somehow managing to sound matter-of-fact and completely in his right mind.

And Donnie, bless him, doesn’t laugh, or scoff, or do a double-take or anything, just pats his shoulder and says sagely, “Fuck, buddy, you sure are.”