#so it's partially pose practice and partially just me doing dumb things

[bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit]

Having a bit of a moment right now. My dad and I rarely talk. He remarried after cheating on my mom and the woman he married is just….godawful bigoted and racist and my dad, in true male fashion, basically just takes on the personality of whomever he’s married to. So when he was with my mom, he was compassionate and accepting and kind. Now? Not so much. On top of picking up racism and bigotry and just general stupidity, he and my brother got into it a while back and put me in the middle to the point I had to scream at my father on Mothers Day, telling him that I am NOT his mother NOR my brothers mother and just because Mom is dead doesn’t mean I have to fucking parent my father and brother, just because I’m the only remaining female in the family, that parenting my child is enough for me and could they please work their shit out like the adults they purport to be. So that went SUPER well and completely fucking ruined my Mother’s Day (and has now become a running joke each Mother’s Day: has Brother or Dad called to fuck up my day yet??)

But whatever. My brother no longer speaks to him but I maintained a “call on birthdays and holidays” relationship with him, and every now and then I would text him pictures of his grandson to show off his progress or achievements and humble brag about my parenting, since judging my parenting is one of his favorite past times.

But now? I don’t know. I texted him pictures of my son’s cheer competition yesterday; he did really well, has been practicing hard, and had a ton of fun. So I wanted to share it with my dad because he’s my only living parent and sometimes I foolishly trick myself into thinking he cares. So I send him the pics, some from the competition, some of him posing with his medals like Michael Phelps, and then I throw in some brags about his academic achievements because I know I probably won’t text him again until Christmas.

Totally normal partially estranged parental conversation, right? Well, tonight I just dropped my kid off at cheer practice (this shit literally never ends but he loves it so whatever) and I get back in the car and see a missed text that he mistakenly sent to me.

WHAT THE FUCK OLD MAN??? What the actual FUCK??? First off, who are you forwarding pictures of my grandson to????? Anyone who I want to see pictures of him, I send them directly to them. They aren’t for forwarding and you as his grandfather should realize that. Secondly, WHAT. THE. FUCK???? I know you, old man. You ain’t “reclaiming” that slur, oh hell no. You say it with the same intention as the men who beat Matthew Sheppard to death in a cold field in the middle of nowhere. You say that to belittle the things your grandson takes joy in because you can’t stand the fact that a little boy can find joy in sparkles and pompoms and cheerleading without being gay. And even if he DOES turn out to be gay, how dare you call him queer? I’m sorry, I don’t reclaim that slur, I’ve known too many people that were hurt while that was yelled at them and I know coming from my dad it was not meant as a “YASSS KWEEN!” Kind of queer. It wasn’t a puffed up chest, proudly proclaiming “here’s my queer grandkid, sure do love him!”

Also, he’s SIX. Six!!! Maybe he’ll be gay, maybe he’ll be straight, who fucking knows or cares right now?? He! Is! SIX!! Referencing his sexuality right now is so stupid and fucking dumb and unnecessary.

I’m so mad right now. I want to cry I’m so mad. My son loves what he loves and he loves pastel unicorns by the literal DOZENS, and rainbows, and cheerleading, and sparkly shiny things, and scootering, and wrestling, and poop jokes, and playing football, and tackling his dad, and all sorts of things. He likes “boy things” and can throw a better spiral than most adults, and he likes “girl things” too, and kicks ass at cheerleading. It makes me so mad to think of my crotchety old dad sitting in his old man recliner in Oklahoma laughing at what he perceives to be his “gay” grandson. Fucking queer. Shut the fuck up, old man, and get the fuck out of here with your preconceived notions of masculinity.

[sweet-beezus]

Assorted doodles from this week pt. 1

[quaranmine]

Hi quara I am once again overcome by the urge to learn artTM and I was wondering, if you could tell, how did you actually learn art?

Hi!!! Short answer? practice

Long answer? spite

basically, I always liked arts and crafts as a kid. but i was not super interested in it, and instead began to focus away from visual art to stuff like writing. my 7th grade notebook had so many stories! Then, in 8th grade, I asked to have art as an elective, and was denied. They wouldn't let me take the class. I had already bought a sketch book for the class since I knew I wanted to take it. I didn't want to take the sketchbook back to the store, or hoard it with all my other notebooks.

So, driven by spite because of my school administration, i decided to fill it anyway by myself. and fill it I did. and another, and another, and so on.

I'm mostly self-taught. I drew anime based on tutorials I saw on pinterest. I joined a group board/community of novice artists on pinterest and posted there for people to critique. I started using markers primarily because I saw them all over the internet, and they're still my primary medium. I had very little formal instruction partially because the art program at my high school was a trainwreck (too complicated to explain) and by the time I had proper teachers I was like...beyond the rest of the class in ability. I went to a small school, the same teacher taught grades 6-12 at different times of day. we didn't have advanced classes, and i was so advanced beyond my classmates that the teachers just let me do my own projects. i dont say this to brag i just say it to mean i literally did whatever i wanted in class and never got taught anything (since the projects were too easy). the only formal art education i have is one (1) college class on 2D design and color theory which definitely did help me in composition.

to actually give advice though...? i used a lot of internet tutorials, many of which were probably pretty bad. But i think what helped me the most was probably drawing based on photos--not tracing. I used to carry a mini sketchbook with me and some pens (because i felt my lines would be more certain if i couldnt erase) and draw people i saw around, or pull up a reference photo on pinterest. i did this constantly when i was bored or waiting somewhere.

I would recommend paying attention to underlying shapes and guidelines. when i was a kid i thought drawing circles before you drew something was dumb, but I think it genuinely helps. break things into shapes and pay attention to how much space they take up. draw from photos and from life, and make sure you draw what is actually there rather than how you think it should look. make a reference library of pose photos/people to draw. and then fill up many, many, sketchbooks because what really helps will just be doing it over and over again.

and pay attention to other people's art--pieces in museums, fanart on tumblr, etc. what do you like about it? what do you notice about the lines, the shapes, the colors? what about the composition? look at nature/real life too--how the sun hits that leaf or how someone tilts their head. everything is art!

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.

[bosspigeon]

the idealistic things i believed

Pairing: M!Detective/Adam du Mortain

Words:  2723

Summary: After misplacing their detective on one of his rare days off, Unit Bravo track him down to the local park, where they find him engaging in an unexpected activity.

And Adam just finds him engaging ;3c

I will not apologize for that dumb joke. TL;DR I just wanted to write about my big sad goth boy and also Adam’s Intense Denial. EXTREMELY last minute title from “No Sunlight” by Death Cab For Cutie

(Note: in my first post, tumblr seems to have shuffled some paragraphs, so i’m reposting to fix it!!! Love this Fully Functional Website!!!)

“You know, Adam, if you ever leave the Agency, you could probably get a job as a private investigator. Maybe even a bloodhound! Just something to think about.”

When Adam actually deigns to look at him, Felix is grinning, hands tucked into his pockets and chin tipped up. Adam rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

Nate stifles a chuckle under his humming along to the music drifting from the nearby pavilion, where they now know Detective Priestley to be, thanks to Adam tracking him down.

After‌ ‌working with Arlo (the detective, he forcefully amends) ‌for‌ ‌so‌ ‌many‌ ‌months,‌ ‌Adam‌ ‌is‌ ‌deeply‌ ‌attuned‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌scent‌ ‌of‌ ‌him.‌ ‌It‌ ‌is‌ ‌easy‌ ‌enough‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌his‌ ‌trail‌ ‌and‌ ‌follow‌ ‌it,‌ ‌which,‌ ‌contrary‌ ‌to‌ ‌Felix’s‌ ‌snide‌ ‌comment,‌ ‌is‌ ‌not‌ ‌unusual‌ ‌in‌ ‌their‌ ‌line‌ ‌of‌ ‌work.‌ ‌Relying‌ ‌on‌ ‌their‌ ‌senses‌ ‌has‌ ‌helped‌ ‌them‌ ‌track‌ ‌down‌ ‌many‌ ‌targets‌ ‌in‌ ‌their‌ ‌time‌ ‌as‌ ‌a‌ ‌unit, so Adam does not see the need for Felix to single him out. If anything, Mason would have fared better, seeing as his senses were the strongest of them all. But Mason’s aversion to sunlight, as well as the sounds and smells of a busy weekend at Wayhaven’s Municipal Gardens had proven to be difficult to manage, so Adam took over.

This all could have been avoided had Detective Priestley simply told them he wouldn’t be at home today. Even Agent Priestley had been confused, as her son tended to prefer staying at home on his rare off days.

But, no, he left without telling anyone, and with the recent increase in trapper activity, his mother was keen for at least one of them to keep an eye on him. As the rest of them were unoccupied, Nate was happy to turn it into a “day out.”

At least he seems pleased.

The pavilion is partially screened by a line of tall, tidy, flowering hedges, and the scent of them is thick on the gentle breeze that carries the detective’s low, gentle voice, accompanied by airy instrumental music, as well as a chorus of smaller voices, high-pitched with youthful enthusiasm. The four of them skirt the hedges to find the pavilion’s entrance, and stop to take in the odd sight.

Detective Priestley stands tall and proud at the front of a staggered group of small children, none of whom reach higher than his waist. He is simply dressed in a loose tank top and joggers, his hair braided back to keep it out of his face and a pair of thick-framed glasses perched on his strong nose. The children mimic his posture to varying degrees of success, most of them dressed in similar loose athletic clothing, some in frilly tutus. On a table behind him, his phone is hooked up to a set of speakers that play light, upbeat classical music that Nate obviously not only recognizes, but approves of, as he hums happily and waggles his fingers as if he is directing the symphony.

“Alright,” the detective says, his voice clear and strong, but endlessly gentle, “is everyone ready?”

A chorus of little voices call out an enthusiastic “Yes!”

“Good! First position?” Arlo waits, watching the children quickly position their feet, some of them looking down to make very sure they’re correctly placed. Once the majority of them are in position, he takes the position himself, easily and confidently. The few of them who struggled at first quickly mimic him, and he beams, a strange expression to see on the normally reserved man. “Perfect! Now… second position?”

He repeats the process, waiting for most of them to take the position before he does himself, and allows the rest of them to adjust.

As he guides them through the next, and the next, Nate swats at Mason’s arm and hisses at him to put out his cigarette, which he does with a hearty eye roll. Felix has begun attempting the positions himself, grinning all the while, and Adam is watching the spectacle with his head cocked.

The detective puts them through their paces with a quiet, confident patience, and the children are not only delighted, but clearly well-practiced, even as young as they are. They are also all clearly familiar and comfortable with Detective Priestley, which indicates they are used to being in his care. Once he’s finished with the warm-up routine, he takes a few long steps back, and squares his broad shoulders, falling almost instinctively into what he displayed for the children as third position.

“Alright, so we’re going to go over some things that I taught you last time. I’m going to show you the moves, and we’re going to see if you can tell me what they’re called. Does that sound good?”

There is an exuberant cry of agreement that makes Mason wince, and he stalks away to stand in the shade of a copse of trees, re-lighting the cigarette Nate had him put out.

The detective rises easily onto his toes on one foot, lifting the opposite leg and raising one arm skyward. The motion is effortlessly graceful in a way that is surprising of a man so tall. Adam is entirely entranced, frozen until Arlo drops the pose and smiles at his little class. “Alright, who can tell me what that was?”

The children clamor to answer, hands shooting into the air and waving furiously, with little shouts of “Oh, me! Pick me, Arlo!”

He points to one little girl with her bright ginger hair in braids. “Maisie?” he asks.

“An arabesque!” she practically shouts, loud enough to make Felix grin. The detective laughs warmly, and something strange settles deep into Adam’s gut.

“Good!” the detective says. “Alright, we’ll try a harder one this time, since you’re all so sharp.”

A few of the little ones giggle delightedly and cover their faces, murmuring together and beaming.

He falls into position again, breathing deeply, walking across the pavilion. As he passes the entrance, his eyes catch Adam’s over the heads of his class, and they widen briefly. He pauses, almost stumbling, for just a split second, his ears going faintly red. Adam can hear the sound of his heart, the rush of his blood, even from several feet away. But he breaks eye contact, shakes his head, straightens his posture, and spins to face the far railing, standing parallel to the group of children watching him with rapt attention. And then he rushes forward and leaps into the air, arms raised and long legs outstretched, practically floating across the pavilion, and when he lands, it is on one foot with an assured lightness that hardly makes a sound on the hardwood floor. He spins to face the children, and pointedly does not look at the three vampires blinking at him in stunned silence. His chest is rising and falling a bit more quickly than it was before, his freckled cheeks flushed, but otherwise he looks at ease.

“How about that one?” he asks, smiling.

The children seem less assured of this one, whispering amongst themselves before a little boy with his spiraling curls held out of his face with a colorful strip of cloth calls, “A real big jump!”

A tiny girl with huge dark eyes raises her hand and tremulously asks, “Mister Arlo, are you an angel? ‘Cause you just flew!”

He laughs, sharp and startled and louder than Adam’s ever heard him, beaming so wide his cheeks must surely ache with it. “No, I’m not, but thank you for the compliment,” he chuckles, pale eyes twinkling. “And, actually, Jacobe, you’re not far off. That was called a grand jeté. It means big throw.”

“‘Cause you throw yourself into the air?” the dark-eyed girl asks, still gawking at him like she doesn’t quite believe his not being an angel. Adam thinks, quite without his permission, that he is not entirely convinced himself.

Arlo smiles wider. “Not quite. It’s because you throw one leg out in a certain direction while keeping the other in a particular position when you land.” He does a smaller leap as an example, one that he easily segues into another leg of the lesson, and he leads them all in a quick practice run of several beginner’s forms and moves, letting them prance and bounce and spin across the pavilion, all the while guiding them with the same moves, but on a wider, more sweeping scale with his much larger frame. He looks rather like a lean, graceful bird followed by an eager flock of awkward, but enthusiastic, fledglings, and he effusively praises and gently corrects them, occasionally taking one aside to ease them through moves they struggle with. Each and every one looks up at him as if he hung the moon and stars, sweetly awed by this gentle giant of a human, and when he finally pulls away from them, he leaves an older boy who looks to be around ten to oversee their practice.

He hurries towards Unit Bravo, and his posture immediately changes when he is out of line of sight of his little class, from strong and tall and carefully poised, to hunching, sheepish, and fidgety. “What are you all doing here?” he hisses, glancing over Adam’s head to, presumably, catch sight of Mason lurking under the trees a ways away.

“You’re a ballerina?” Felix blurts, and a vivid red crawls up the detective’s chest and neck to stain his ears and cheeks. The warm rush of it almost makes Adam dizzy.

“No,” he blurts, casting a quick look over his shoulder to make sure he hasn’t interrupted his students. “I was a dancer. A long time ago.”

“Since when?” Felix presses, practically bouncing with the excitement of discovery.

“I went to art school!” he blurts, dragging a hand down his face. “It wasn’t my major or anything, but...” He twitches under the attention, and the flush to his skin clings stubbornly. Prettily.

“Well, you’re clearly very talented,” Nate offers, smiling reassuringly.

“You did not tell Agent Priestley you wouldn’t be home,” Adam finally manages to interject, finding his voice and almost instantly regretting it when the man flinches at his sharp tone. “You should not have left without letting one of us know.”

Arlo rubs anxiously at one arm, the dark band of black ink twisting around his bicep, looking away and down towards his feet. Adam follows his gaze, down to his clearly worn but well taken care of black leather flats. “I’m sorry, I forgot. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to hold a lesson, and the kids were starting to get antsy about it. I was getting a lot of calls, and I figured since things had settled down a bit, I could get back to it.”

Nate quickly interjects before Adam can say anything, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop whatever words (almost certain to be abrasive, even Adam can admit) are about to come. “Of course, perfectly understandable! We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your plans, we just need to know where you are with things still so,” he pinches his lips shut, glancing towards the dancing children, “precarious.”

“It’s usually Sundays, if I can swing it,” Arlo offers sheepishly. “They have a regular teacher, Mrs. Golightly, but sometimes she asks me to fill in because the kids like me. They’ve missed me.” He smiles, tense and strained. “And, I mean, I’ve missed them a lot too. It’s nice to focus on something that’s not, y’know…” He rubs at the side of his neck, thumbing habitually over faint, raised white lines.

Adam clenches his jaw, remembering Arlo, weak and bleeding, dropping to his knees like a hanged man after the rope’s been cut, Murphy biting into his neck and tearing it open--

Nate’s hand squeezes his shoulder just this side of too hard to ground him, and he lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in one tremulous exhale.

“I just wanted some of my old normal back,” Arlo says softly. “I like working with you all, I want to protect this town, but sometimes I just… I really don’t want to think about the fact that there are people out there who want to sell me to the highest bidder so they can bleed me dry. Just want to think about teaching some little ones to pirouette.” He huffs out a weak little laugh, and looks back towards the class, who are following along with their substitute’s instructions like a tiny, well-oiled machine. “That’s Marco,” he explains, gesturing to the older boy confidently leading the lesson. “He’s really good. Thinking about going pro someday.”

“Did you ever think about going pro?” Felix asks.

Arlo squirms and hesitates to answer, though he does still look relieved by the subject change. “Sort of? When I was younger.” He sighs. “It was never going to happen, though. So I mostly just stuck to the hobbyist side of it. Small time school shows and the like.”

“Why wouldn’t it happen?” Adam asks, brows furrowing. Arlo looks up at him, as if surprised it was Adam to speak.

“I’m too bloody tall,” he laughs weakly. “The professional dance world is really competitive, yeah, but it’s also very, ah, particular. You’ve got to look a certain way, fit a certain mold. I could practice all day every day, perfect every technique, but I’m still not going to have a chance when I’m seven inches taller than the tallest guy in any company. There’s technique arguments, too, about what sort of things you can’t do as well as someone smaller, but it usually comes down to looks.” He shrugs his broad shoulders, shoving his hands into the loose pockets of his joggers. “It’s not a big deal. There’s a one in a million chance I’d have made it professionally anyway. And it’s tough on the body, too. Pro careers run short. I like doing it on the side without worrying how long I’ve got left.” He smiles thinly.

Adam’s not sure what he’s going to say to that, lips parting to offer something, but he doesn’t get the chance, because the music suddenly changes from some sweet and tinkling piano to a harsh battery of electric guitar, bass, and drums. Arlo flinches away from him, turning towards the group of children now jumping up and down around the speakers and squealing along to the harsh, growling vocals. He laughs breathlessly.

“Guess the dance playlist ran out,” he says, before hurrying back to tend to the children. Several of them have taken out their ribbons and headbands and are tossing their hair around and miming playing guitar, sticking out their tongues and making odd hand gestures.

Felix cackles, and then runs over to join the fun, leaving Adam and Nate looking on, Nate chortling softly to himself.

“He’s full of surprises, our Arlo,” he says. Adam pulls his gaze away from the detective, bending over to pull off one of his shoes at the insistence of that dark-eyed little girl, to see him smiling that gently knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Quiet,” Adam growls.

“I didn’t say anything,” Nate protests, but he turns back to watch the spectacle that is the detective sitting on the floor while the children pass around his ballet flat so they can compare it to their own. The size difference is comical, and sends the group into paroxysms of laughter. Even Felix, who seems to have ingratiated himself to the class easily enough, offers up his own shoe, and sticks it into the flat. Even Arlo laughs at that, a husky rumble that has Adam pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the way his heart reacts. Nate raises his eyebrows, and Adam glowers at him, dropping the hand to his side and clenching his fingers hard. “I didn’t say anything,” Nate repeats, “but I do think it’s nice to know something about the detective’s day-to-day life, when he’s not with us, don’t you? Becoming more familiar with his habits. As a friend and not just an obligation?”

“It is useful to know his daily comings and goings to continue to protect him,” Adam allows.

Nate sighs. “It’s a start, certainly,” he says, and Adam refuses to ask what he means by that.

[loopy777]

Non-Review: Free Comic Book Day 2021 - The Legend of Korra (Also Featuring Avatar: The Last Airbender)

With all the hype around 'Suki Alone,' it looks to me like most of the fandom missed that an additional Avatar comic with a story from each cartoon's era was just released for Free Comic Book Day. You can read them for yourself on either Dark Horse Digital or Comixology where it's mislabeled as being for ages 17+ (free accounts are required for both), but I'm sure one of the reasons you all love me is because of my willingness to jump in between you and these comics like the deadly bullets they can be. Well, I'm happy to die (metaphorically) for the sake of (a little anonymous internet) love, so I'm doing a full snarky review for each ten-page story. Also, I'm bored, and it's more fun to make fun of mediocre stuff than to praise stuff I like.

It's time for me to review "Free Comic Book Day 2021 - The Legend of Korra (Also Featuring Avatar: The Last Airbender)" or more specifically "The Legend of Korra: Clearing the Air" and "Avatar: The Last Airbender: Matcha Makers."

CLEARING THE AIR

The cover makes this look like a story about Jinora and Ikki having a sibling conflict. That's a lie. The Air Sisters arguing is merely the inciting incident for Tenzin telling a story of his youth. I should note that, as inconsequential as the Air Sisters stuff is, it's actually written very well because it posits Ikki as a victim of circumstance and Jinora as a bully who terrorizes her little sister with threats of getting thrown in jail by Metalbenders for an accident, cementing the characterization from the cartoon. This is not sarcasm. I really do think Jinora is presented by LoK as a Holier Than Thou little snot who just so happened to be naturally gifted with magic spirit-powers, but for some reason the rest of the fandom doesn't agree with me.

Anyway, Tenzin comes in to find the arguing (and Meelo just running amok for the fun of it and so far these characterizations are perfect), and rather than telling Jinora to shut her stupid face, he delivers a tale of his youth about conflict resolution.

So the meat of the story is how, when Tenzin was "a few years older" than Jinora, a pair of vandals got onto Air Temple Island and burned some graffiti into the spinning-panel things that Korra will destroy out of frustration during her Airbending training. Literally, the vandals are depicted as scorching the wood with enough smoke to be seen across a plaza. Tenzin goes after the vandals and they flee across the bay back to Republic City proper (one of the vandals is a Waterbender with a surf-plank). Tenzin pursues, catches them, and attacks them hard enough to smash some dockside crates. They are all then arrested by Metalbenders and dragged before Chief Toph. She's going to let Tenzin go (yay Toph!) and throw the vandals in jail (YAY TOPH!) and makes this face, and this entire comic is worth it:

However, Aang arrives and instead arranges to forgo the jail-time in favor of an Air Nomad Conflict Resolution Ceremony. This is nice and in-character, but I'm totally with Tenzin that these vandals should have been thrown in jail. They literally burned insulting graffiti into antiques from a genocided culture. But instead, Aang demonstrates conflict resolution by having Tenzin explain why he's hurt and what needs to be done to redress the wrong. And so the vandals help Tenzin scrub the graffiti off the panels with water and rags and mops- how, I don't know, since they were literally burned.

They also do a ceremony thing where they each take turns bending their element into a central space between them to 'clear the air' (GET IT GET IT HA HA IT'S ALMOST LIKE A PUN BUT NOT), so it's a good thing they were all Benders because this is kinda racist. This fixes all the problems and everyone is friends. Yay!

In the present, though, things are not so nice, because Tenzin's kids are still screaming at and provoking each other. Korra comes in with Asami at the end to ask what's going on, and Asami says nothing, so I still think everyone is characterized with perfect consistency with the cartoon.

I made this sound silly, but (aside from the spinny-panels getting cleaned with a little water and elbow-grease, which doesn't matter because Korra will eventually blow them all up anyway), I actually like this one. It has Tenzin demonstrate how much he's always had to work to be the Perfect Air Monk that everyone expects him to be, and Aang acknowledges how this is unfair but that Tenzin will never let him down no matter what. It also has Katara come in at the end (for just one line, boo!) to acknowledge that this was an especially easy little conflict for Tenzin to practice on and he'll eventually face worse. I found it a nice adult moment in a story that's otherwise clearly aimed at 8-year-olds.

The art is good. It's simpler than the LoK cartoon, with flat colors, but it captures the story and has enough liveliness for everyone's character to come across in their look and body-language. The brief action-sequence where Tenzin attacks the vandals is well done, moving quickly but showing the full flow of the fight and every move Tenzin makes.

MATCHA MAKERS

Apparently, "Matcha is finely ground powder of specially grown and processed green tea leaves, traditionally consumed in East Asia" according to Wikipedia. I had to look that up. I'm curious how many people understood the full reference in the title, especially since these comics are aimed at kids too young to be allowed on the internet.

This is a very simple story about Iroh in his tea-shop in Ba Sing Se. He has an assistant/waitress named Feng, a new character who wears glasses, ruining the hopes and dreams of all the fanfic-writers who were so sure he'd rescue Jin from the Lower Ring. A frequent patron of the tea shop is an elegant, older lady (very clearly Upper Ring material) named Li-Mei, who cannot go a single panel without giving Iroh a HEY BIG BOY look. She is very clearly smitten. Also, I feel the need to clarify that she knows his name is Iroh, so apparently Ba Sing Se is okay with the Dragon of the West serving tea to their wealthy. I don't say that as a criticism, I'm just noting it.

That night, Iroh meets up with his friends- the Pokemon-style spirits that we saw in Legend of Korra. (I don't know if they're the actual spirits from LoK, or just new spirits in the same style. This is because I would sooner grind matcha into my eyes than rewatch Book Spirits.) He serves them his special blend of tea and talks about how he's totally into Li-Mei but isn't going to pursue it because he's feeling old and doesn't want to take a risk. At this point, I could stop describing the plot because between the title and what I've said so far, I'm sure you could figure out every single plot beat that will follow.

The next day, the spirits trip Feng so that she drops Li-Mei's tea and Iroh needs to bring a replacement, and they've drawn hearts on top of the replacement tea with foam or sugar or milk or whatever. I don't know because I've never bought tea in a place that will even put the bag in the hot water for me. Iroh gets out of the situation without starting any love-affairs and runs into the back to tell the spirits to knock it off, dudes, they're totally embarrassing him! The spirits respond by giving him a flyer for a romantic restaurant. I don't know how they got it, so I can only assume that some Upper Ringer had their mail diverted.

Iroh refuses, so when Li-Mei orders more tea and he brings it to her, the spirits hover just out of her sight and threaten to smash the furniture. I am not making that up. They literally threaten to smash Iroh's furniture unless he asks the lady out. He submits to their tyrannical threats, Li-Mei happily accepts the date, he happily accepts her acceptance, and the story comes to a close. Iroh thanks his spirits friends for opening him up to new experience, but hopes that next time (so I guess Iroh is signing up for Tinder after this?) they won't threaten his shop.

At best, I can describe this story as 'harmless.' But it's been a long week and I just got a bunch more extra work at my day job that I really don't want to do, so I'm going to go ahead and call this story 'dumb.' It's rote, leans towards humor without actually being funny at all, and turns the spirits of the setting into Pokemon. And not even the cool dragon kind.

The art is strangely stiff. The coloring is soft and nice, but the drawings seems more 'assembled' than actually drawn. I swear there are even a few panels that reminded me of 'How I Became Yours' with janky poses, horrifying expressions, and just enough resemblance to the original cartoon to make me think a screenshot was partially traced and then ruined. (I'm not accusing the artist of tracing, BTW. I wouldn't even condemn the artist for tracing if they did. I'm just describing that HIBY feeling I got.) It was so stiff that rather than hear Iroh's dialogue in Mako's rich tones, I instead imagined Greg Baldwin doing a stiff Mako-impression with no naturalism to the delivery.

This story is definitely worthy of its "Also Featuring" billing. I'd rate it below Gene Yang's Mai and Suki FCBD short stories, but above everything else he wrote for Avatar.

So there you go. Overall, this is very middle-of-the-pack for Avatar FCBD stuff. It's very much of the nature of the 'Team Avatar Tales' stuff, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Iroh story was a leftover from that project. On Free Comic Book Day, you often get what you pay for.

[wakraya]

Hello everyone! With some people having been showing interest in my art lately, I thought I’d get my stuff straight with Art Commissions and Pricing! I have a variety of styles, so bear with me.

I’m open to draw a variety of topics, not just Homestuck, and like designing characters and OCs, but I do reserve the right to turn a Commission if the topic makes me uncomfortable. 

You can find examples of my art Here, Here and Here, in This Imgur Album, as well as below the Read Me!

If you’re interested, you can contact me here on Tumblr, or at Wakraya#4164 on Discord.

Commission Slots Filled: 1/4

The MSPA Style is pixel-based, reminiscent of the style used for Homestuck. It’s simple and generally line-less. The usual size for these is a 500x500px canvas, but depending on the complexity, they can easily go bigger.

- Partial Shots (Bust, from the Waist-Up...) come up to 10-15$ per character, depending on complexity of the pose, while Full Body Shots would be 15-20$, again, depending on the complexity of the pose.

- More Complex composite shots, positions, backgrounds, etc., will be priced on a case by case basis- That is to say, tell me what exactly you want and I will see what I can do.

- The Basic Background for this style is simply a solid grey or a few tones of grey to represent the background. Room furniture, outdoors detail, etc, all count as more complex Backgrounds. (See above)

- I can do some Basic Animation in this Style! Snappy sprite movement, tail wagging or ear twitching. Once more, entirely dependent on complexity, parting from the Basic Prices listed above.

- Once the base is done, Extra Edits can be done to the pictures, such as, using the same base but giving the character different clothes, or changing the position of the limbs/facial expression. Very minor edits like, a version with a White Sprite and another with a Skin tone, are free. Basic Edits are 5$ each, and more Complex ones will be once more a case by case basis.

The Standard Style is just my normal drawing style. The canvas are generally 1000px or higher in size, which makes it more elaborate and slow.

- Rough Sketches are usually what I do first to get a clear idea of how the overall piece is going to look like once inked, but more elaborate Rough Sketches can look quite good as well. A Rough Bust would come up to 10$ per Character, 15 around Waist, and 20$ for a Full Body Rough Sketch.

- Inked Sketches are more refined, and ready for coloring if needed, but obviously need more time. An Inked Bust would come up to 20$ per Character, 35 around the waist, and 50$ for a Full Body Inked Sketch.

- Basic Coloring depends on the size of the piece, but will usually come up to about 5-15$ per Character, depending on the amount of detail.

- Other details like the Complexity of the Piece itself, or Background Detail, may add to the final price, but will be calculated on a case by case basis when discussing the full piece/s.

Chibi little dolls/charms that look really cute! This is a relatively recent style, and the Chibis themselves are about 400x250px.

- A Sketched Chibi Doll with no Color will come up to 15$, 20 if their pose is particularly complex, or they’d have some detail with them like some item or weapon.

- Adding Basic Color to them will be an extra 5$, or 10 for particularly complex ones, although considering the Chibi Style, I struggle to think what would qualify as ‘Complex Coloring’.

Pixel Sprites! These are good for character reference, like a D&D Sheet. These sprites are proportional- 5′6″ being equivalent to around 150px tall, and may range from fairy-sized to 8+ feet tall. Even if you don’t care about the proportional size, have it in mind to request a Bigger or Smaller Sprite for pricing purposes!

- Standard Pose Sprites are the cheapest, a standard base in a neutral stance. These are 20$ for the Average-Height Sprites (And for the Tiny Sizes that require a Zoom), but may range from 16 to 24 for smaller and larger sizes and depending on complexity.

- Basic Pose Sprites are slightly more expensive, but can give the sprite more personality than the neutral stance. These are 30$ for the Average-Height Sprites and Tiny Sizes, but may range from 25 to 35 for smaller and larger sizes and depending on complexity.

- Complex Pose Sprites are much more dynamic and unique, but require a lot more time to deal with. These are 40$ for the Average-Height Sprites and Tiny Sizes, but may range from 32 to 48 for smaller sizes and depending on complexity.

- Objects like Weapons, or Non-Human Anatomy may come with extras. Things like, Ears or Tails shouldn’t be much of an issue, but Wings or a Digitigrade Pose will require time and work. These extras will be a case by case thing, depending on the specifics of the Sprite.

I do Other Stuff, too, which ranges from the experimental to the silly. I don’t have set prices for anything like this, but hey, if you’re interested, I am capable of doing the following:

- Iconography & Symbology, stuff like this. I even did a Tattoo for myself once.

- Landscapes. Very out of practice with these, and I’m not even that particularly good, but I know I can draw general scenarios with nice vibes.

- Maps. Note, I haven’t drawn any in a while, but I have done some stuff in the past.

- Dumb Memes and Emotes. I doubt anyone would be interested in something like this, but hey, if I’m exposing all of my work, I may as well showcase the sillier of the bunch as well.

[callboxkat]

A Little Nightmare (part 6)

Author’s note: My puppy was kind enough to let me write today! Sorry about the wait, and thank you all for your patience. :) I hope you enjoy, and more importantly, that you’re all staying safe. <3

Warnings: fear, death mention, mentions of being eaten, illness and injury, referenced drowning, pressuring people into things, food mention, censored swearing, arguing, rat/mouse mention, a dog

Word count: 3530

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

...

Joan opened up the cabinet beside the microwave, their eyes scanning its contents, searching for the small red and black coffee tin that should have been inside. They frowned, moving aside a few spice canisters. The tin wasn’t there, as far as they could tell. Where was it?

They stepped back, eyebrows drawing together, and opened the neighboring cabinet door. Perhaps they had misremembered where they had last put the coffee? They didn’t drink it much, so that was a reasonable possibility. They hoped they weren’t out. It had been Nunya’s one request, the one thing she claimed might make her forgive them for their blunder with the dog.

That had been pretty dumb of them, Joan thought, taking their eyes off of Marco long enough for him to get to Nunya’s door. They should have realized that she would be nervous about a dog sniffing around, even if he couldn’t get into the room.

They sighed, moving on to the next cabinet.

…

With Joan gone, Remy turned back to her plate of food. She picked up the strawberry and took a bite, closing her eyes with a soft, pleased hum at the sweet, juicy taste. She very much liked the strawberries—she didn’t exactly get them often, surprise surprise, given that most humans she’d encountered didn’t just leave fresh fruit lying around for littles to find. Not that she was going to show Joan just how glad she was to have them, but she would take the fruit.

Perks of almost dying and being caught by a human, she supposed.

She paused to wipe the juice off of her chin, glanced over at the rest of the strawberries on the plate, and decided she didn’t have to try to make this one last. She finished off that strawberry, leaves and all (it was small, stop judging her) and reached for another. She dragged it towards her, wincing at the strain on her chest, and took a bite. She slowed down a bit at this point, not wanting to get full too fast. She wanted to savor it, and actually taste her food. Who knew when the next time she’d get strawberries could be?

Remy was about a quarter of the way finished with the berry when the bedroom door opened, causing her to jump. She turned around to see Joan poking their head in the door with a guilty expression. She squinted, wondering what this was about.

“Um… hey. I’m sorry, but turns out I don’t have any coffee after all. I must have run out and forgot. I can get some, though, if you want? It shouldn’t take long.”

Remy looked at them for a moment, searching, then slowly nodded. Late coffee was better than no coffee, obviously, assuming that that was really what Joan was going to do.

“Maybe you can take a nap while I’m gone? Marco’ll be in my room the whole time.”

Remy’s expression soured at the mention of the dog. Joan seemed to be waiting for an answer, though, so she just said, “Yeah. Maybe.”

Joan nodded, glancing away, then retreated. The door closed with a soft click.

Once she was sure they were gone, Remy went back to her food, still ignoring the peanuts and crackers that Joan had brought her along with the strawberries. She had those all the time, at least comparatively. While she was accustomed to often having trouble finding any kind of food, if she had options, she was going with the fruit, thanks.

She finished about half of the second strawberry, then got to her feet, having no plans to take a nap like the human had suggested. Sure, she was still tired, her chest throbbed, her headache had only slightly let up, and her nose was starting to feel stuffy; but now would be a good time to go exploring again, with less chance of the human interrupting. There might be something she had missed the night before.

She made herself a mental map of the room, taking note of any potential escape routes: outlet covers, the vent cover that she might be able to squeeze through, the door, maybe the window; as well as hiding spots: the nightstand, the bed, the closet, and the space behind the door when it was open. She wished it wasn’t such a plain room. More hiding spots would be nice.

Still no red flags that she could find. In this room, anyway. At one point, she heard the tapping of claws in the neighboring room as the dog walked around. That was a pretty big red flag, especially since she had no guarantees that it really couldn’t get to her. But mostly, she focused on exploring this room.

Just when she was starting to consider calling it quits, so that she’d be back in the blanket when Joan returned, she found it.

A seam, so perfectly fitted that she nearly missed it, in the wall under the bed. Remy brushed her fingers along it, frowning, discovering that it made a door-like shape. A distinctly her-sized door-like shape.

She hesitated, then shook her head. Why should she be nervous? What did she expect to find inside, a booby trap like some Indiana Jones movie? Ridiculous. The worst thing she was likely to find was, like, a giant rat. Or maybe a skeleton.

Remy’s mouth thinned.

But probably nothing. Nothing was the most likely answer.

With that thought, she hooked her fingertips in the seam and pulled. It took her some effort, probably because it was stuck and definitely not because she was so weak; but then it gave, and the door swung open. It was cleverly only partially cut on one side so as to allow the movement but not let the door fall open entirely. She’d luckily pulled on the correct side. It would have been embarrassing, to be standing there tugging on the wrong side of the door for who knew how long.

Remy glanced behind her, towards the room at large, as if to make sure Joan hadn’t returned, then turned back to her find.

“Hello?” she awkwardly whisper-called, feeling very stupid but also apprehensive. “Is, uh, is there anybody in there?”

She didn’t get an answer, unsurprisingly—even if there really were other littles in the house, they could be practically anywhere, and she was unwilling to raise her voice. She poked her head in the wall, hoping for some clues.

The tunnel within clearly hadn’t been used in some time, she realized with a sinking heart, probably at least a year if not more. There was dust on the floor, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she even saw a couple of dead insects lying on the ground about a foot down the tunnel.

Remy swallowed and stepped back.

So… no littles, then. At least, no littles recently. Perhaps they had moved out because of the dog. That would certainly make sense.

Of course, it would also make sense that they had been eaten by the dog, or killed by Joan or some other human, or had had some other horrible thing befall them; but Remy was trying to think positively, here.

She stepped back, taking a breath, and shut the door. It blended nearly seamlessly with the wall once more.

Did she want to stay, after finding this? What if something had happened to those littles, and it had had to do with Joan? What if this was her one warning to get out while she could?

She put one arm around herself and rubbed her sore head with the other hand. She swore, conflicted.

If she stayed, she would be taking the risk that this really was a clue to some horrible thing that Joan was hiding. But if she left, she would definitely be putting her life at risk, when there might well be a perfectly reasonable and non-nefarious explanation for there to be abandoned tunnels in the walls.

She debated for a long moment, and eventually, she decided to continue to stay, for now. Leaving posed a big risk, especially since she wouldn’t even be able to get back to her supplies and still had nowhere to call home, not to mention her… current situation.

She made her way back  to the blanket, glancing several times towards the hidden door along the way. She sat down there, hugged the baggie of peas to her chest, and waited.

Nearly two hours had passed in total, judging by the movement of the shadows in the room, by the time Joan returned. Remy was starting to get antsy. She was promised coffee, and she was not known for being patient. Granted, she was barely known at all, but no one who did know her would call her patient.

She turned as soon as she heard the knock on the door, opening her mouth to ask where exactly they had been for so long; but when they actually came in, she broke off, her mouth beginning to water.

She recognized the rich aroma as soon as the door opened,  tickling her nose tantalizingly from across the room. She sat up, unable to help the thrum of anticipation within her.

Joan poked their head in, smiling and carrying a tray laden with goodies that Remy’s eyes immediately zeroed in on. “I’m back!” they greeted, “and I’ve got something for you.”

Remy pushed off the baggie of frozen peas—well, they weren’t quite frozen anymore—as Joan approached. The human stopped about a foot away and went to set down the array, then paused. They picked up the shot glass filled with dark brown liquid and took a sip from it, probably to demonstrate that it was safe. Remy just watched, shifting where she sat like a kid trying to contain her excitement.

Joan lowered themself to the floor and set down the tray in front of her, then scooted back a couple of feet to give her space. The tray they left behind was laden with a couple of sugar cubes, two shot glasses, several little bowls made of tin foil, plus some extra unshaped foil, and even what looked like a small cookie. The dark brown liquid in the first shot glass was obviously the coffee, while the other must have been the milk. Almond milk, she remembered Joan mentioning it was. She didn’t know what exactly that was—almonds were a nut, weren’t they?—but she didn’t ask. She had her coffee, finally. That was all she cared about.

A bit of steam curled lazily from the first shot glass. Hot coffee? She knew coffee was usually supposed to be served hot, or at least, not room temperature; but she’d never actually had hot coffee before. She glanced up at Joan, then slowly approached. She paused, then poked one finger into the coffee to test the temperature. It didn’t seem too hot, so she took a tiny sip. It was bitter, but in a familiar, pleasant way; and it warmed her insides. She could tell it was freshly made, too, which was not exactly usual for her caffeinated treats.

“You like it?” Joan asked, seeming hesitant.

“Hmm,” Remy hummed, too pleased to bother with a sarcastic comment. She looked at the rest of the tray’s contents, then picked up one of the clumsily folded aluminum foil cups and used it to scoop out some more of the coffee, filling it about three quarters of the way. After a pause, she filled the rest up with almond milk. She took a sip, belatedly realizing that she hadn’t seen Joan try the milk. But it seemed okay.

Coffee and milk. Not bad, actually.

She finished her first cup and went to refill it. She had already decided that hot coffee was vastly superior to the room temperature kind. This must have been what “good coffee” meant. She felt briefly gratified that she had insisted upon the good kind.

Meanwhile, Joan was watching, but totally pretending not to be.

She glanced over at them as she measured out the coffee, milk, and sugar ratio she wanted to try next. “What took you so long, anyway, girl?” Don’t get her wrong—she sure as heck wasn’t complaining about the extra investigation time, since it would have been rather… ah, awkward to explain what she was doing if they’d walked in in the middle of it; but she had thought that humans were faster than that at getting around. Her tone was slightly accusatory, suspicious about what they could have been up to, but it was mellowed slightly by her satisfaction at finally getting her caffeinated nectar of the gods. A bit of her nerves might have shown in her voice, which sucked; but Joan, thankfully, either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“Oh—sorry, I had to stop upstairs for a minute. One of my tenants emailed about a leaky faucet. I had to take care of it. And then I had some trouble figuring out how to make some cups for you….”

“…Tenants?” Remy echoed, not recognizing the word.

“Yeah. I own the building we’re in. I rent most of it to other people, they pay me for the space, and I take care of the building.”

Remy blinked. So, this wasn’t just a house, after all—it was an apartment building. Now that she paid attention, she thought she could hear something above them, maybe someone walking around, and a television or something playing. She hadn’t noticed before. Something that she felt was more than justified in her case.

More importantly, though…. “Are you going to try to make me “pay” too?” she asked suspiciously. “For, like, taking up space here, or whatever?” Maybe that explained the empty tunnels…. The littles hadn’t been able to pay whatever Joan’s price was. And now the human was trying to trick her into taking their place.

“What? No—no, that’s a different thing. You don’t owe me anything. I promise.” They frowned, seeming upset.

“Hm.” Remy would hold them to that promise.

Joan stayed silent until Remy went back for her third cup.

“You know,” they ventured quietly, making her pause, “I really do think you’d like Marco if you met him.”

Remy sent them a sideways glance, scooping the coffee into her cup. Yeah, I’m sure I’d have a great time getting eaten by that mutt.

“He’s really sweet,” they continued. “Not threatening at all.”

Remy crumbled a few grains of sugar off of one of the cubes and sprinkled them in. Once they dissolved, she took a small sip, glancing once in Joan’s direction, skeptical of their claims. She took another sip of coffee and firmly directed her small, satisfied look at the cup. If only Joan wasn’t here, annoying her.

“Maybe if you gave him a chance, you’d see you don’t have to be scared.”

Remy still pretended not to hear them, focused on her coffee.

Joan sighed.

Remy tapped her fingers on the sides of the cup. “How long have you had that thing, anyway?”

“What?”

“The dog.”

“Oh. About two years now.”

She took a contemplative sip of her drink. That timeline did check out with how long the tunnel appeared to have been empty.  So, the dog probably had had something to do with it. Which wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it was nice to have her suspicions confirmed.

“And he’s never, like, caught anything, right?”

Joan had perked up, apparently thinking she was considering their offer. “No, never. I was actually kind of afraid he might be vision impaired or something when I first got him, he was so chill around birds and stuff. Turns out he’s just like that, though.”

“And what about… uh, mice? Or, like, rats, I guess.”

Joan’s eyes shifted to her tail, which twitched self-consciously. “No, nothing like that.”

“Have you ever even had mice around him? How would you know if you’ve never had mice?”

Joan looked sheepish. “Well… we used to have mice, I think. I put out some traps, but I never caught any. I think they’re gone, now, though. I haven’t seen any sign of them in a few years.”

Remy mulled that answer over for a moment, and the tone in which it was said. They hadn’t avoided the question, and it sure didn’t seem like they were hiding anything in it. She didn’t exactly like that they’d put out mouse traps to try to catch littles, but it seemed that they didn’t know that they weren’t actually mice. The answer still didn’t tell her what she needed to know, however, and it was always possible she was missing something. Focusing was not her strong suit at the moment, and she’d only known this person for a day—not to mention that she hadn’t ever even spoken to a human before now, and hadn’t planned to. She was no psychic, or expert on how to read humans. She was just doing her best.

The pause was lengthening, so Joan spoke up. “He really is very sweet. He’s harmless.” They seemed to know they were pushing it, but they still asked, “Would it really so bad, to just see him, so you could see for yourself?”

Remy took a long sip of coffee. She didn’t want Joan getting ahead of themself just because she was asking questions.  “Nah, girl. Pass.”

…

Joan wilted a bit at her flat, negative response, but they tried not to be too disappointed. They tried to put themself in her shoes (or boots, technically). They tried to picture what it would be like to face a dog like Marco at her size. They supposed they might be a bit intimidated by a corgi the size of a house, even if he was a sweetheart. Especially if they hadn’t known that he was a sweetheart. Corgi or not. Maybe it was a bit cruel of them, trying to push her into this, despite how much they felt that it would put her at ease to know what kind of dog was “lurking” outside.

They dropped the topic for the time being, watching her enjoy her coffee. As she went back for a fourth and then fifth cup, Joan started to wonder where she was putting it all. Did she have a coffee-loving black hole for a stomach? Perhaps it was good that they’d gotten her decaf coffee. They’d debated for a while at the store, wondering if caffeine was the best idea for someone in her condition. They’d also grabbed some regular coffee, too, just in case; but they’d made her decaf for now. If she somehow ended up staying longer and wanted regular coffee, they had it.

“So...” Nunya said, breaking Joan out of their thoughts, “what happens when your absolutely flawless plan fails?”

Oh. She just wanted to criticize them some more.

“It’s not like he’ll be near you. I’ll have him on a short leash.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” they said. “I told you. I won’t let him near you if you don’t want him to be. Definitely not until you’re comfortable with it. And if that never happens, it never does.”

“Uh-huh. Girl, you said you want me to meet him. How do you meet someone and not get close to them?”

“Just see him, really. You don’t even know what he looks like. Would it really hurt just to see him?” From the sound of it, Nunya had had a very difficult time sleeping the night before, imagining their enormous, vicious, bloodthirsty dog coming after her. Seeing the fluffy, adorably harmless reality might reassure her and make her stay that much easier. She wasn’t going to get better if she didn’t feel safe enough to rest.

…

Remy frowned down at her cup. Part of the reason she was drinking so much was so that the caffeine would perk her up and make it easier to think clearly, but it didn’t seem to be working. Her headache and head fog were still overpowering. She stifled a cough, sniffling, and put the cup down.

Joan was still waiting for her answer. Well, she’d already answered, like, a bunch of times, even if most of them hadn’t technically been verbal; and it shouldn’t have taken a genius to get the hint. But that wasn’t good enough for them, apparently.

She should have just reiterated a flat “hell f*cking no” and clammed up on the topic, but she paused.

She thought of the empty tunnels again.

A part of her felt curious—okay, maybe obligated was a better word—to find out what had happened to their builders. But was it even worth the risk, when, if Joan was to be trusted, she was leaving the next afternoon?

“Maybe you can think on it?” Joan asked.

Remy closed her eyes, resigned. “Fine,” she huffed.

“Fine… you’ll think about it?”

“Fine, I’ll do it. But you, ma’am, had better make damn f*cking sure that that mutt of yours can’t reach me.”

Joan’s shoulders loosened, and they sent her a relieved if uncertain smile. “Well, I do have an idea… but I’m not sure how much you’ll like it.”

[tempesrature]

IDOL | Chapter 2

Platinum x Ride or Die (AU) Crossover

Pairings: (Major) Ride or Die | Logan x Ellie (Minor) Platinum | M!Raleigh x Cadence Warnings: PG13+ A/N: To people who actually know something about music and the discipline...please forgive me if I got anything wrong lol. 

@troublemakerinspace @raleiighcarrera @harrys-wheezys @choicesarehard

Ellie nervously taps her feet on the car, earphones plugged into her ear as she hums out a melody she’s trying to work out into a song. She glances at Mona driving the car before she looks back at the time on her phone.

Ten more minutes and they’ll arrive at the recording studio to record the new single with Logan. Ten more minutes until she meets the man she—according to Raleigh—hit it and quitted it.

Is she nervous? Definitely. But she tries to withdraw to herself and focus on what she’s supposed to be doing—her job as a singer and being professional. Plus, she made ground rules for herself. Don’t talk about that night and focus on recording the song. Depending on the song waiting for her to sing, they should be done in two to three hours. Short enough for her to avoid any real conversation about anything that went on between them. So in theory, nothing wrong should happen.

“Ellie.”

Ellie looks to Mona and pulls out one earbud from her ear. “What’s up?”

“You need to pose for pictures after recording,” Mona turns the wheel and turns a corner. “We need to post it on Pictagram as a teaser.”

Ellie blinks, her heart rate shooting up.

So…maybe something wrong might just be happening.

“And…that’s a good idea?” Ellie starts hesitatingly. “I mean with what happened after the party you’d think that would be a bad idea right?”

“This is a good way for people to start talking about the song,” Mona says as she pulls into the studio’s parking lot. “Good press, hashtags trending, stans speculating, etc.”

“Yeah for him,” Ellie huffs as she pulls open the car door open and puts on her sunglasses. “I’ll be crucified by the stake!”

Mona pauses mid-open of the front door and looks at Ellie amusingly. “You realize that’s not how it goes, right?”

“Whatever Mona!” Ellie complains as they make their way down the purple neon-lit hallways towards the recording booth. “You know what I meant. This won’t end well for me. Why am I being put on—Micah hey!”

“El!” Micah shoots out of his chair and excitedly pulls Ellie into a tight hug. “Ready to record this song with Mr. Flavor of the Month?”

Ellie groans as she flops to the couch. “Not you too Micah. I thought you’d be on my side on this.”

“Hey, I am El!” Micah cackles as he slides back into his seat and swivels it to face her. “But you gotta admit, the pictures weren’t great. I like the Colt pics more, better lighting.”

“Micah. I’m leaving her with you,” Mona says and Micah replies with a mock salute just as she presses the phone to her ear and walks out of recording booth.

Ellie sighs as she takes off her sunglasses and throws it on the table in front of her, her demeanor changing and her mind fully focusing on her task. She already told herself that she wouldn’t let what happened between her and Logan affect her work. Although she isn't really a fan of his work, she doesn’t want to be accused of purposely bombing the song or act aloof and unprofessional when he arrives. That’s how ‘diva’ rumors start.

“Do you have the instrumental and parts for me?”

Ellie reaches over to Micah who hands her the lyric sheet for the song. Her eyes flick to the title of the song ‘Candy’ before she scans the lyrics of the song. The storyline is simple enough. It’s a guy who’s crushing on a girl that’s picky with the guys she dates. The guy compares himself to candy and how the different flavors compliments her perfectly. There’s a push and pull to the lyrics, as if the girl already knows that she likes the guy but she’s hesitant to fall for his charms. Ellie’s lips quirk in a small smile at how…playful the lyrics seem to be. Completely different from Logan’s discography of heartbreak pining that makes her cringe sometimes (although she’d never admit it to him personally).

The soft start of the synth fills the room and Ellie’s ears immediately pick up the sound and her eyes light up.

“Woah, wait. Is that the song?” Ellis listens carefully as she rhythmically taps her feet on the on the carpeted floor. “No way. The song’s an R&B pop?”

Micah grins as he adjusts the volume of the song. “Yeah, surprised me too. I thought I’d have to mix another whiny pop song.”

Ellie grins as she continues to sway to the music and silently hum the lyrics she’s partially memorized now. She likes the song more than she thought she would. When Mona first brought up the collab idea, she was really hesitant. Ellie didn’t really know if their musical tastes and genres could fit each other well enough to work together. But just as Cadence and Raleigh had been mentors to her, she vowed to help the newer artists make their way into the entertainment industry as best as she could.  Now, she’s actually glad that she took up the project. She can already tell that the song will be a total hit.

“Let me hear the guide, do you have it?” Ellie stands from the couch to stand next to Micah. He pushes some buttons and the Ellie has to bite back the utter awe when she hears Logan’s voice and she’s once again reminded of why Logan shot to fame so quickly. He has a raspy and light lyric tenor voice with a bright and resonant mixed voice that can reach up to a F5 falsetto, the kind of voice that would suite a powerful and pining love song but agile enough that it can transition to more pop and R&B songs.

“Damn. He really does have a great voice.”

“Wow thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”

Ellie’s eyes widen as she turns around and faces Logan. He comes in with a big grin, his long brown locks swept back a little, and she can’t help but be reminded of the night and the pictures. It’s difficult not to ogle, to stare at how truly handsome he really is in the dim light, and she kind of understands her drunk self now. Drunk-Ellie might make dumb decisions but she sure does know how to pick out the handsome ones.

“Logan! About time man,” Micah greets as stands from his chair and gives Logan a hug and a fist bump.

Micah’s voice brings her out of her thoughts and she quickly reminds herself that she needs to be professional. Which means no staring, no thinking of that night and definitely no ogling so she plasters on a pleasant smile as she walks towards him and offers her hand.

“Logan, nice to meet you. I’m Ellie,” She internally cringes at herself. Of course he knows who she is. He’s here for a collab after all and they were already well acquainted a week before. She didn’t need to introduce herself and she didn’t need to make it so obvious that she was intentionally setting up a clean slate for them to work on.

But Logan doesn’t take notice of it and takes her hand with smile. “Thanks for taking on this project Ellie. I really appreciate it.”

Micah's eyes bounce between them and he lets out a small snicker before he makes his way back to the mixing console. Ellie internally sends Micah a threat of bodily harm for purposely leaving her with Logan knowing full well that it’s going to be awkward. But the slight flutter of the paper in her hand reminds her that she has a song to record and she can use that as a way to worm herself out of this awkwardness.

“Uh should we practice with our parts?”

Logan blinks, his long lashes almost touching his cheeks, before he breaks out in a wide grin. “Yeah let’s do that. Want to do it in the booth?”

No. Absolutely not. Ellie does not want to do it in the vocal booth. An enclosed space where sound gets muffled and Micah can see everything happening from the other side? A terrible idea for her and her beating heart and crumbling resolve to not ogle at the guy in front of her.

But how else is she going to turn down his offer?

“Sure,” Ellie shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant but her voice comes out a little too squeaky for her own liking.

Logan grins as he moves to the door and pushes it open. “After you then.”

Ellie glares at the double thumbs up Micah sends her in her peripheral view and she quickly replies with an annoyed thumbs down before she enters the solitary and quiet space of the vocal booth. She takes the seat on one of the chairs and Logan drags one to place in front of her. He swings his legs over it and folds his arms on the back of the chair as he perches his chin on top of his arm to look at her.

Ellie immediately curses the musical gods at how they could create a guy so dastardly handsome with a golden voice and drop him in front of her.

“So,” Logan starts with a grin. “Did you get home okay?”

Ellie can’t help the blush that spreads on her cheeks as her lips pull into a frown. “You couldn’t just leave it alone?”

Logan shrugs with an honest smile. “I’m not really a subtle guy and I want to make sure you were okay. I didn’t get your number either so I couldn’t text you,” He lifts his chin off of his arm and he observes her quietly. “We didn’t have sex by the way.”

“We didn’t?!” Ellie practically shouts before she clamps her mouth shut.

Logan raises an amused eyebrow. “Of course. You think I’m the type of guy who’d take advantage of a drunk girl? I said I’d sleep on the couch but you insisted that it was my bed so I should sleep there. Then you started to strip,” He grins. “Luckily, we were able to reach a compromise on the underwear staying on.”

Ellie can’t keep the grimace away from her face as the mental image comes to her. It pains her to admit that Drunk-Ellie would definitely do those things in those exact same sequence of events.

She drops her head in her hands and groans. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like that, I swear.”

Logan chuckles, his voice light and teasing. “So you’ve said last night. You’re a really nice drunk though. Kept on insisting that you would make this song a guaranteed hit. That’s why you wanted to come home with me actually, “so we can practice” you said.”

Ellie chuckles ruefully before she lifts her head to look at him apologetically. Then, the image of him shirtless on the bed suddenly comes to her and she narrows her eyes suspiciously at him.

“If we didn’t…why were you shirtless?”

“Oh that?” Logan laughs a little as he rubs the back of his neck and looks away from her. “Uh, the lipstick was gonna leave a bad stain. Thought I’d put it in the wash first so my stylist wouldn’t kill me.”

“Oh my god,” Ellie covers her mouth with the lyric sheet in her hand in shocked guilt. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for it, send me the invoice. Along with the glass that I broke and the carpet I probably ruined.”

“Nah, it’s already taken care for,” Logan grins as he looks back at her. “And you didn’t leave that much of a damage. You’re fine, Ellie.”

She stares at him and a grateful smile tugs at her lips. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she’s already heard a lot about Logan from the staff and from what she picks up from time to time on the internet. Not that she heard anything bad about him other than his secret of hobby of racing cars but she’s still pretty apprehensive with the bad boy image that the company seems to be pushing on him.

She knows that an image of an artist can be fabricated to cater to the fans (and sometimes the general public) but a little of that image usually stems from the artists’ real personality. After all, it’s difficult to always keep up an image and the real person behind the music is bound to slip out. And she’s had enough of her fill of “bad boys”.

“Okay but let me pay for the shirt. I insist.”

Logan grins brilliantly and she has to internally scold her heart for reacting.

“Sure. Can your card handle it though? It was a Valentino.”

She smiles playfully as she leans forward and whispers, “I’ll put it down as a company expense, don’t worry.”

Logan lets out an amused laugh. “You can do that?”

“Oh yeah, Raleigh taught me that little trick,” She says just as she suddenly feels a little shy under his soft and warm gaze. “In fact, I can uhm…teach you a lot of stuff about the industry. Just to help you get by, you know? Have a friend and all that. I mean that’s what Cadence did for me. Raleigh too but he’s an awful teacher.”

She’s fairly aware that she’s rambling but she can’t seem to stop herself around him. Perhaps that’s why Drunk-Ellie was so adamant on kissing him. Even Sober-Ellie wants to do it and there has never been a time in Ellie Wheeler’s life where Drunk-Ellie and Sober-Ellie has made a unanimous decision on anything other than wanting to kiss Logan.

Logan smiles teasingly as bumps his knee against hers. “You’re a troublemaker aren’t you?”

Ellie blinks a little and a smile tugs on her lips. “Only if I have to be.”

They exchange a small laugh as the atmosphere around them starts to mellow out. The awkwardness and apprehension Ellie felt immediately disappears in an instant and she’s surprised at how easy and comfortable it is to be around him.

“Uh anyway,” She says as she raises the lyric sheet in her hand. “Let’s practice?”

“Sure. Think we can share though? I left my sheet with Micah.”

Oh fuck. The close proximity of him to her is not going to do her heart any favors. But it’s not like she can say no to him. What would she even say? ‘Sorry but you’re too hot and any closer I’ll catch fire?’, like hell she’ll say that to him.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” She says as she moves her chair next to him and she can already catch the smell of something floral and woodsy. She tries her best not to comment on how much she loves it.

“Thanks Ellie,” He looks at her with an encouraging smile as he pulls out his phone and waits for her cue so he can start the instrumentals. “Let’s start.”

Ellie nods and she warms up her voice by briefly running through some vocal warmups before she gives him a nod. She keeps in time with the intro of the arpeggio chords before she starts the beginning of the song.

Candy, candy, candy Aye, yeah, yeah, yeah Aye, yeah, yeah, yeah Candy, candy

Honey are you still wondering? Right, you are careful picking out sugar, spice I respect that appetite, yeah

“Shit,” Logan says in awe as he pauses the music. “I knew your voice would be perfect when I wrote this but I didn’t expect it to sound this good.”

Ellie pauses and looks at him in shock. “You wrote this?”

“Yeah, you think I don’t write my own songs?” He tries to laugh it off but Ellie could hear the slight hurt in his voice.

“No I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought…I mean the genre is so different from what you usually release. I thought Ellis might be pushing this on to you or something, sorry.”

Logan chuckles as he places his hand on his heart in mock hurt. “I take it that you aren’t a fan of the heartbroken bad boy pining songs I’m known for?”

Ellie wants to lie but the honest response of his question is probably written on her face.

“Sorry. They’re very sad though, I’ll give you that.”

Logan laughs. “They better be! The producers of those songs practically told me to cry in the booth if I have to.”

“They did not!”

“Oh they did,” Logan grins at her. “It’s ridiculous right? The things they’ll tell us to do to get the sound they want.”

“It comes with the territory unfortunately,” She laughs as she nudges his shoulder playfully. “When I was recording ‘Easy’ I was supposed to act sad and heartbroken. But I didn’t want the song to be that way. I wanted it to show a side that was playful and strong.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins and he looks at her with awe. “Bet they liked that.”

“Oh they loved it,” She says sarcastically before she giggles. “But when it placed fifth in the top 100’s and had 40 million views in PlayMe, I didn’t hear a peep from them ever again.”

Logan chuckles. “Troublemaker.”

Ellie grins. “Guess it’s just part of my brand now.”

“Funny enough, I didn’t become a fan of you because of Easy.”

Ellie looks at him curiously, their faces close enough that she can see his eyelashes touch his eyelids every time he blinked. After she collaborated with Cadence Dorian, which caused the initial push for her success, everyone was waiting for what type of song and image direction she was going to take. When she dropped ‘Easy’ as her first solo single, a groovy alt R&B single with a music video packed with soft and pastel neon lights, it was a guaranteed hit and so many of her fans credit ‘Easy’ as the reason to why they became her fans in the first place.

“So what made you a hardcore Ellie Wheeler stan then?”

Logan smiles as he plucks the sheet lyrics from her hand. “Flower.”

Ellie’s eyes widen and somewhere in her heart tugs at the mention of that single. She had released it shortly after her mother died as a dedication to the love and life her mother left behind. It’s the one song Ellie absolutely loves and absolutely hates at the same time. She loves it because it’s the most honest and raw she’s ever been as an artist but hates it because so many of her worst critics and haters dragged her through the mud for “capitalizing” on the death of her mother by promoting the song. As if she wasn’t allowed to express and work through her grief on her own terms.

“Thanks,” She replies but she can’t keep the forlorn and melancholy tone out from her voice. “It’s a nice song.”

“It’s more than nice,” Logan refutes. “I mean those runs in G5 falsettos? And I can feel the emotions you were putting into the lyrics. You got me hooked from that song alone.”

Elli goes red at the compliments that flow so easily out of him. No wonder so many people love him. He makes every word that comes out of his mouth sound genuine and honest. Ellie realizes he really wasn’t lying when he said that he wasn’t a subtle guy.

“Yeah, I really love that song,” She confesses honestly as she plays with the edges of her shirt. “My mother...is the one that taught me to sing. I thought it would be nice to honor her memory through a song.”

Logan smiles softly. “That’s why I love you.”

They freeze, the meaning behind his words hanging between them, and Ellie looks at him in disbelief and shock and Logan fumbles through his explanation as he looks at her nervously.

“I mean uhm as an artist to an artist, you know? I mean as a fan too. I’m a huge fan! That’s why I love you—as a fan. Nothing more. Just a fan.”

Ellie searches his nervous and panicky brown eyes as he settles his eyes everywhere but her face. She wants to dig in more to his words but she hardly knows him enough to know if he’s lying or not. And it’s not like they’re close enough for her to actually start asking him questions about it.

“Alright you two! Let’s get to recording!”

Micah’s booming voice in the vocal booth cuts through the awkwardness that settled between them. Ellie quickly stands to her feet and look towards the glass barrier and tries to hide away the blush on her face.

“Right! We’re—I mean I’m ready Micah!” She turns to Logan and holds her hand out. “The uhm lyric sheet. I need to record the song, I mean my parts. Not the whole song. This is a collaboration after all. That’s why I’m here and all that.”

She internally cringes at herself when she realizes that she has the social and conversational grace of a Raleigh Carrera after 4 glasses of tequila.

Logan laughs a little as he stands from the seat and hands the paper to her, his eyes burning in a passion and determination that pulls her in. “Let’s make this a hit Ellie.”

Ellie’s eyes widen as she gives him a reassuring and determined nod before she takes the sheet from his hand. “You can count on me Logan.”

[imastrangeone98]

Shopping Spree

(A/N: haha you thought it was a new chpt of lost and found? No! You get a stinking one shot, that's what you get!)

Lolol honestly I'm still coming up with ideas for the next chapter so I'm doing a one shot until I come up with something XD

Warning: if you hate shopping as much as I do, this is gonna be an eyesore XD

This takes place sometime before chpt 5 of my lost and found series

"Faith. Babe. Seriously. We need to get you some better clothes," Lady muttered as she ran a finger over her friend's ragged hoodie.

"But... but they're fine!" the nephilim protested weakly. "They're still clean, and they fit me... well, kind of."

"I know, but they're just so threadbare. And hot." Walking around her friend, she carefully scrutinized each piece- hoodie, jeans, sneakers. "It's only gonna get hotter here, and I don't want you melting into the pavement!"

"I... I don't have money," she said, a pitiful final attempt to dissuade Lady from taking her shopping.

"You let me worry about that," she reassured, sneaking a predatory look at Dante, who was oblivious to the whole thing. "At least let me get you a new shirt."

And Faith knew then and there that she had lost the battle.

[...]

"Try this on! It's cute!"

Faith's arms were now piled high with clothes. She began to wonder if she was just an excuse for Lady to splurge on pretty outfits.

Dante yawned in the corner, rubbing his eye while tapping his foot to the upbeat music playing throughout the store. "Are you done? I'm hungry."

"Not yet. She has to try them on." As she spoke, she nudged Faith towards the changing room. "Now go. Go forth and dress."

With a heavy sigh, she obeyed, slipping into the small room.

The male let out a soft groan. "C'mon, Lady. Just let her wear what she wants; it's not hurting anyone."

"Trust me. She'll thank me later. There's a heatwave sometime this month, and I don't want her sweating to death. Also, thank you for actually wearing a shirt and not one of your stupid titty strap jackets."

"It's not a- it's not a titty strap!" he spluttered. "It's a gun harness!"

"Yeah, whatever. It still looks stupid. You really need a wardrobe change-"

"Holy shit," he whispered, as if in awe of something.

Unaware, she rattled on, "For a guy who's practically waist deep in debt, your obsession with red coats is-"

"So... what do you think?"

The sweet voice behind her caused her to turn around... and she gasped.

The soft, white dress flowed just past Faith's knees, the delicate gold flower designs accentuating the gentle aura that always surrounded her.

She looked like an angel.

The two companions stared at her for what felt like hours. It was to the point where she began to squirm under their gaze.

"Is it... not good?" she asked, shyly tugging at the hem of the dress.

Dante mumbled something, his face bright red. But he shook his head and gave her a thumbs up.

Lady, on the other hand, couldn't stop the compliments from pouring out. "It's perfect! It's just the right size, it's not too flimsy, and it matches your vibe!" She dramatically grabbed her friend by the shoulders and repeatedly shook her. "Please tell me you'll keep it! Please!"

Faith's brain still felt like it was rattling in her head. "Okay. Just... don't do that again, please."

[...]

They had traversed over ten shops within two hours. Faith had been rather conservative in her choices, much to the shopping lover's chagrin, but she still walked away with an impressive hoard of shorts ("Ripped shorts are always stylish," Lady had reassured her), floaty T-shirts, a dress or two, a pair of flip-flops, and- on Faith's insistence- a red flannel button up (which Dante seemed particularly happy about).

And while Lady gleefully pushed each bill into their male companion's hands, he didn't seem to mind all that much, simply taking it without a word despite Faith's constant protests that she would find a way to pay for it.

"It's fine," he said with a gentle pat on her head. "Just stick around and wear the stuff; that's payment enough."

"But..." she stammered, only to get a finger pressed to her mouth.

"No buts." With a grin, he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Tell you what. You manage to get through the rest of the trip without worrying over finance, and I'll buy you some cinnamon buns later. Deal?"

She would've argued with him, had she not remembered the smell of the sweet cinnamon glaze as they walked past the shop. Her mouth watered.

That shut her up.

At some point, their growling stomachs became too loud to ignore. They began their trek to the food court, only for Dante to point out a box to them.

"Check it out. A photo booth," he snickered. "I love those things. So cheesy."

Faith looked at it. "I've never been in one before."

He gave her a look. "Wait. What? Seriously?"

She shook her head. A small frown tugged at her lips.

"...Alright, we're changing that. Come on!" Grabbing her hand, he practically dragged her to the machine, where the trio squished themselves trying to fit in the minuscule box.

"Jesus, what were they thinking, making it so tiny?" he grumbled when an elbow smacked his cheek.

"I thought they were mainly for couples," Faith squeaked.

His blue eyes widened. "...Yeah, well, they really should take people like us into consideration, too." His voice sounded like it went up an octave; she wondered if he was just tired.

Once they finally got situated (Faith ended up sitting partially on their laps), Dante pressed some buttons on the screen and announced, "Alright, smile!"

Snap! Snap! Snap!

During each pause, they made some kind of funny pose- tongues out, then bunny ears, then a simple one with their arms around one another.

Faith laughed at some point over her friends' ridiculousness. And out of the corner of his eye, Dante watched her with a wide smile on his face.

Snap!

"Is that the last one?" Lady grumbled. "It'd better be; I'm starving!" She started pushing them out of the booth.

"Wait, the photos!" the small girl cried out.

"I got it!" He snatched up the strips of paper, sneaking a peek at them before shoving them in his pocket with a grin.

"Hey, stop hogging the goods!" Lady tried to shove her hand into it, only to get pushed aside by him.

"Quit it! I'll give you one later!" Before anyone could argue, he threw an arm around each of the girls' shoulders, steering them towards the food stalls. "I still need to buy those cinnamon buns."

"...You're gonna share those with us, right?"

"Fine."

That shut them up.

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

A/N: it's so dumb and fluffy but hey it's not like anyone's gonna read it right?? Hahaha... ha...

Anyway I'm pretty sure Mando is up next. Look forward to it my nonexistent fans!!

[speeding-fox]

Sorabon on the Haunt!

~~~~

Synopsis: Sorabon gets dared to go inside a creepy abandoned mansion rumored to be haunted to prove his bravery and that he's no chicken, but when his friends end up getting captured by a spirit, he has to summon the courage he needs to rescue them! Along the way, he unviels a surprising secret!

~~~~

Author's Note: "~~"'s indicate a scene change, and warning, this fic might be a little too spooky.

~~~~

Exiting the cinema after a scary movie, Tosukana, Dot, Shian, and Tiiru were discussing how freaky it was, with Sora stumbling behind them, trembling like a leaf. "That movie was certainly terrifying." Dot said. Shian wrapped her arms behind her head. "Yeah, terrifyingly bad." 

"I thought it was pretty scary, Shianbon." Stated Tiiru.

She stares at her with raised brows. "Seriously Ti? Did you not see how fake everything was? You could see the zipper on some of the guys' costumes during multiple scenes."

They all turn to the frightened Sora when they hear him whimpering. "Sorabon, you can't seriously have been scared by that movie." Shian teased.

"B-B-But, e-every looked s-s-so r-re-real." Sora stuttered out shakily.

"Dude, the only thing to be scared of in that movie was how bad it is." Shian assured.

"Have you forgotten about that one particular scene, Shianbon?" Tiiru inquired as they raise a brow.

"What scene?" She asked, playing dumb.

"You know, the scene that scared you so badly that you hugged Dottobon?" Tosukana teased.

Shian's cheeks turn a pinkish-red and snapped back at her sibling and Tosukana. "I wasn't scared! I heard her screaming, and I thought she would need my protection!"

"You sure that wasn't you screaming?" Tiiru questioned, stifling a snicker.

"No! It was just her and Sorabon! I would never scream out of fear! I'm not afraid of anything!" Shian bellowed at the two.

"Uh huh." "Whatever you say, sis." Tosukana and Tiiru said respectively before they begin to laugh at Shian's expense while she huffs, turns away, and crosses her arms, her cheeks maintaining the pinkish-red hue.

"Um, guys, not to interrupt, but where's Porukabon?" Dot asks.

"Didn't he say he had to use the bathroom before meeting us out here?" Tiiru questioned.

"Oh yeah, he did." Dot affirmed.

"He's definitely been taking a little while." Tosukana stated.

"I-I wouldn't worry a-about him. When nature calls, n-nature calls." Sora reassured shakily, unaware of a shadow looming behind him. He flinches and his eyes become dots as he felt a hand suddenly grab his left shoulder. He trembled as he slowly turned his head around to see what grabbed him.

The shadow roared once he met its glowing yellow eye. Sora turned ghost white as he screams like a little girl, then his eyes turn to X's, and he faints. The shadow turned out to just to be Polka fooling around with some party glasses.

Polka laughs heartily at the fainted Sora's expense. "Gotcha'!"

Shian busts out laughing. "Nice one, Porukabon! You scared the color off of him!"

Sora suddenly recovers and is on his feet, though still ghost white. "THAT WASN'T FUNNY, PORUKABON!" He screamed angrily at him.

"Yes it was!" Polka corrected while cackling. "I got you good!"

Sora growls. "No you didn't!" He crossed his arms and huffs. "I wasn't scared!"

Polka chuckles. "Oh really? Why are you still white as a sheet then?"

Sora checked himself, and he was indeed white as a sheet, devoid of color. "Ah!" He grabs a small paint bucket and paint brush from out of nowhere and rapidly paints his colors back onto himself, then crosses his arms once again while still holding the paint brush and bucket in his hands. "Like I said, I wasn't scared! I'm a hero, and heroes don't get scared!"

"Is that so?" Polka inquired. "If you're not as scared as you say..." He gets an evil look. "Then maybe you wouldn't mind going into an abandoned mansion I found on the outskirts of the city while was out for a drive."

"Abandoned..." Sora begins shaking again. "Man...sion...?"

Shian's eye light up. "You found an abandoned mansion?! That's so cool!"

"And going there sounds like a bad idea." Tosukana states.

Polka shrugs. "We don't *have* to go there..." He then glanced to Sora. "-if Sorabon's a such scaredy-cat."

"Porukabon-" Dot tried to interject, but Sora immediately stops shaking and snaps back at him. "I am NOT a scaredy-cat!"

"So you're going?" Polka asked with a smirk.

"Of course I am! I will go over to that abandoned mansion and PROVE that I'm not a scaredy-cat!" Proclaimed Sora.

Polka clapped his hands together. "Alright! It's settled then! Let's go!"

"Wait, huh? Already?" Sora questioned.

"Yeah! It's not like we have anything better to do anyway. C'mon! I'll show where the place is!" Polka went up ahead. "Porukabon, wait up!" Shouts Dot as she tries to catch up.

Sora realizes he just made a mistake. "Oh my Whiter, what did I just agree to?"

"Trouble, I bet." Tucker says as they go catch up.

As that was all unfolding, none of the kids realized they were being watched by the Neo Devil Trio from an alleyway, whom recede into their hiding spot, and begin to discuss. Lucifer rubs his chin. "Abandoned mansion, huh?"

"Sounds like the perfect place to mess with them!~" Sung Dandylion.

"I'll say... Hey, are two down for giving those brats a scare?" Suggested Lucifer.

"Oooh! I'm in!" Dandylion exclaimed. "I especially want to see the look on sky boy's face!"

"So am I, and lucky for us," Hades brings out a hologram projector. "I have just the tech we need give those losers, especially the Sora kid, the scare of their lives!" She cackled.

Lucifer chuckles. "Great! With that, those brats won't stay very long, and for sky boy, he'll stay even less."

~~

The group arrives to the derelict mansion via mech. "Here we are!" Shouts Polka.

Getting out of Sky-Soarer, Sora was already shivering at the sight of the creepy-looking building. 

Holding a flashlight under his chin, Polka begins to creepily tells a story. "Let me tell you a little story about this place. From what I heard, the first owner of the place, passed away suddenly over one-hundred years ago, and they say his spirit has haunted this mansion ever since, hunting down for any intruders. If he catches these intruders... he curses their spirits to be bound to this place FOREVER!" This story practically petrifies Sora into a statue, while Polka chuckles. 

"Porukabon, you just made up that story to scare Sorabon stiff." Tosukana tells him while staring at him, not at all amused.

"What? No! It's true!" Polka vehemently refuted.

"Then where did you hear this "story" from?" Tucker asks with a raised brow, meanwhile Tiiru is proding at the frozen Sora, trying to get him to budge.

"I- uh-" Polka averts eye contact. "I heard it from people.

Tucker continues to stare at him with a raised brow. "Uh huh..."

"Who cares if the story is fake or not?! I wanna go beat up ghosts!" Shian exclaims with four-pointed stars in her eyes; it seems Polka's story hyped her up.

"Shianbon, just how are you gonna do that?" Tiiru questioned.

Shian pumps a fist. "By punching them until they disappear!"

A sweat-drop appears on the side of Tiiru's head, and they mutter. "Oh sister..."

"So who's gonna go in first!?" Shian exclaimed.

"I don't know, maybe Sorabon should go in first, if he isn't too... chicken." Polka instigated.

That comment snapped Sora out of his statue-like state and swiftly turn to glare at Polka. "I am NOT a chicken!" He bellows.

Polka, somehow now partially dressed as chicken, teases him by acting like a chicken and making chicken noises. Sora flails his arms to boldly and angrily proclaim "I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT A CHICKEN! And I'll prove that right now!" He then barges through the unlocked doors of the old mansion. Polka takes off his chicken get-up and heartily laughs along with Shian. 

"Ha! That riled him up good, Polka!" Commended Shian.

"It sure did!" Polka continued to laugh, until Tosukana harshly slaps Polka across the face. "Ow!" He immediately rubs where he got slapped.

"That was not funny, Porukabon." Dot scolded to her brother, then she turned to Shian. "And Shianbon, you should know better." 

Shian grumbled quietly. "Sorry." 

"Since you riled him up, Porukabon, you're going in there to fetch him and apologize." Tosukana insists.

"Uhhhh." Polka shifts his eye around quickly. "I can't go in there."

Tosukana raises a brow and puts his hands on his hips. "Why not? Don't tell me you're the one that's afraid now."

"Me? Afraid?" Polka laughs nervously. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Ha ha..."

He continued glancing around as everyone is staring at him expectantly. He was hoping someone would back him up, but when he realizes that nobody will, he gives up. "Okay, fine! I'll go in after him, but I'm not going in alone!"

Tosukana sighs. "Even though I was hoping to teach you a lesson, I'll go in with you."

"I will too! I've always wanted to explore a haunted place!" Shian exclaimed.

"Sorabon's my friend too, so I'm coming too!" Tiiru chimed in.

"But what about me..? I can't go in there, not because I'm scared, but I don't want to possibly get stuck in the floorboards. I don't want to be out here on my own either..." Dot says while twirling her fingers and looking aside.

"Well, that's the perfect excuse ta'-" Polka tried to say, but Shian butted in before he finished. "I'll stay out here with you, Dottobon!" 

"Shi-Shianbon, I thought you wanted to explore this place!" Polka stammered.

"Of course I do, but Dotto has a point, and we can't just leave her alone!" She gets in a battle ready pose. "Besides, while I am disappointed I can't go exploring with you guys, what if something happens and you guys need to call back-up, huh?"

"I guess it is a good idea for you both to be on stand-by incase we need help. Now as for you, Porukabon," Tosukana grabs Polka's arm. "we're going." He turns to Tiiru, whom is watching a leaf float by on the breeze. "Tiirubon, you coming?"

Tiiru snaps to attention. "Oh! Yeah! Coming!"

Tosukana drags Polka by his arm into the mansion, with Polka groaning.

Now that the trio went inside, Dot and Shian wondered what they should do while they wait for everyone. "Sooo... What should we do now?" Questioned Dot.

"Hmmm..." Shian glances to Dot's half of the mech, then back to her. "Did you bring your Bontendo Switch?"

~~

As the trio stepped inside the old mansion's foyer, the floors creak under their weight as they look around for Sora, Polka shines his flashlight around, trying find him, but he doesn't see him anywhere. "Where the heck he go?" Polka wondered aloud. The three try calling out to him in hopes he responds. "Sorabon! Sorabon!" No answer...

"Where did he go anyway?" Tiiru questioned.

"In a place like this, you'd think he'd bail once he got in here." Polka remarked before Tosukana nudged him. "Ow!"

"Regardless, we have to find him. He couldn't have gotten far." Tosukana states.

"Should we split up and search?" Tiiru suggested.

"Tiirubon, that is a terrible idea." Polka retorts. "You've seen how well that turns out in the cartoons."

"Oh, right." Tiiru muttered.

"How about stay in a group and search the first floor together?" Tosukana suggested.

Polka nods. "That sounds like a better and safer idea." He puts the flashlight under his chin again and speaks in his "creepy voice" while wiggling the fingers on his free hand around. "It would deter the ghost if he was to find usss."

"Stop." Tosukana says flatly.

Polka groaned. "Okay fine." He shines a flashlight down the hallway to the group's left. "Let's check down that way first."

With that, they began their search for Sora. For the next ten or so minutes, they check each room across hallway for their friend, but did not find him, so they decided to search down another hallway, little did they know they were being followed...

"Where IS he??" Polka questions as he peeks into a smaller room and shined his flashlight around to find it was empty of life as well, and groans before closing the door. "This is some game of hide-and-seek he has us playing."

"And this only the first floor." Adds Tosukana as the group continues on.

"I swear, if we find him in a broom closet after spending all this time..." Polka murmurs audibly.

"What makes you think he's hiding in a closet?" Inquired Tiiru.

"If he is in a closet, he would've came out when we've called out his name." Tosukana says, concerned.

"Coming out of the closet isn't easy for most people, Taka." Polka joked, only to receive a beat in response. "Okay, I get it, bad time for a joke."

"I'm the one that's supposed to make the jokes, Porukabon." Claimed Tiiru.

They group freezes in place when they see one of the doors shaking, and whimpering noises coming from behind it. "Wh-Why is that door sh-sh-shaking a-and ma-making noises..?" Tiiru stammers.

"I-I don't know. L-Let's just hope i-it's Sorabon." Polka shakily replies.

Slowly, the three stepped towards the shaking door. Once close enough, Polka reaches for the doorknob, and grabs it. He hesitantly turns the knob, and opens the door, it creaking as it slowly opens, the noises coming from it getting louder, then when the light hits it, something covered in a white sheet shrieks, causing Polka and Tiiru to hug eachother and scream simultaneously. "EEEEEIIIII!!! GHOOOOOOST!!!"

Tosukana, however, was completely unfazed, and sighs. "Guys." He stepped over to the "ghost," and pulls the sheet off, revealing a terrified Sora underneath.

Sora gets startled from having the sheet pulled, then blinks a bit before he realizes what he's seeing. "G-Guys?"

"Sorabon?!" Polka and Tiiru shout in unison, then glance to eachother, and Polka lightly pushes Tiiru away and tries to look like he wasn't at all scared.

"Ahem... Sorabon! What's the big idea?!" Yelled Polka.

""What's the big idea?!" I should be asking you that! You almost gave me a heart-attack!" Sora shouts back.

"I asked first!" Polka fired back. "What were you doing trying to scare us like that?!"

"I wasn't trying to scare you, I was trying to hide from the ghost!" Sora shot back.

"G-Ghost..?" Tiiru shuddered.

Polka rolls his eyes. "Yeah right." 

"I'm not kidding!" Sora insists. "The ghost from your story, it's real! As soon as I entered this place, it chased me around until I hid in this closet!"

Polka still wasn't convinced. "Sora, I made that story of the mansion's first owner up to scare you." As if on cue, the aforementioned ghost floats down from the ceiling and hovers behind Polka, and the three onlookers pale and start trembling. "Everyone knows that ghosts are just made up! Heh heh!"

"Uhh-hhh, P-Poruk-kab-bon..." Sora uttered shakily.

"L-L-Look behind y-you-u..." Tosukana stammered as he pointed behind Polka.

"Huh?" He does turn around, and immediately turns white as a sheet once he sees what everyone was staring at. "Oh... so it is real... Ha ha ha..." He laughed nervously.

"Leeeeeaaaave..." The spirit moaned before roaring. "NOOOOOOWWW!!!"

The group scream in shear terror before bolting away, the ghost in hot pursuit behind them, but no matter where they went or where they tried to hide, they were always some how found. Where the heck is the exit?! This only the first floor! Were they running in circles?!

The group then runs upstairs in hopes of finding a better place to hide from the spirit giving them chase, then they run through a series of doors in a hallway in a familiar cartoon-like fashion in an attempt to escape the ghost until they get to one particular hallway. Sora bolts ahead of everyone before tripping over a loose floorboard, which triggers a trapdoor to open, he didn't have time warn his friends of the trapdoor. "GAH!" Polka just barely stops in time to avoid falling in, but Tosukana and Tiiru weren't as quick to notice, they bump right into him, knocking his flashlight out of his hand, it landing next to Sora, Polka loses his balance, and the three of them fall in, screaming out until they fade into the darkness.

"GUUUUUUYYYS!" Sora cried out to them before the trapdoor closes. Seeing the ghost still after him, he scrambles to his feet, and sprints around the corner and finds a conveniently-sized vase big enough for him to hide behind, then remained hidden for some time, even after the spirit wandered off, he is fearful and unsure of his next move. He waited a bit longer before he briefly peeks out of his hiding spot and glances around, the coast seems clear, but he goes back into hiding, he doesn't want to leave his hiding spot yet, he was afraid the ghost will come back and find him if he gets out of his hiding spot.

The poor kid whimpers as he hugs his legs, and he begins murmuring to himself as he softly sobs. "I don't wanna get out, I don't! But I wanna leave, but my friends... the ghost got them! I can't leave them, but I'm afraid of the ghost coming back! I don't wanna get caught too! What do I do? What do I do?!" He sobbed quietly some more, those sobs slowly turn to sniffles, and he begins to put on his "brave face". "I- *sniffle* I can't leave them behind. *sniffle* They're my friends, and... and they need my help."

Sora gains a determined look on his face. "I may be afraid, but it'll be the heroic thing to do!" He peeks out once more to check if the coast was still clear, when he saw that it was, he takes a deep breath, breathes out, then he quietly gets out of the vase, tip-toes the opposite direction the ghostly spirit went, retrieves Polka's flashlight, and carefully begins his search for his friends, hoping they're alright, and murmuring "I'm beginning to feel like that green-hatted guy from that mansion game..."

~~

Meanwhile...

"Dang it, Dottobon!" Shian shouts as she looks up from her Bontendo Switch. "How are you so good at Bontris?!" 

Dot gazes up at Shian before rubbing her head bashfully. "I wouldn't say *that* good, Shianbon..."

"You kidding? You beat me AND the 97 CPUs, twice!" Exclaimed Shian. "There's no way you're "not that good!""

Dot turns away, blushing. Her gaze swiftly shifts towards the mansion when she thought she heard screaming. "Shianbon, did you hear that?"

Shian was too focused on her game to notice. "Hear what?"

"It sounded like the others screaming..." Dot clarified. "And they are taking a little while..."

"Oh gosh dang it!" Shian says under her breath as she once again loses, then turns to Dot. "I didn't hear anything. I think you're probly just hearing things. Yeah, they're taking awhile, but they didn't call for help yet, so they must be fine."

"I hope so..." Dot mutters while not taking her eyes off the mansion.

"You down for a 3 out of 5?" Asked Shian.

Dot stares at the place for another couple seconds, she was still concerned about the screaming, but if Shian didn't hear them, then she must've just imagined them out of worry. She then shifts her gaze to Shian. "Sure, I guess I can do another round."

~~

Sora quietly searches around downstairs to see if he could find his friends down there, careful to not draw the ghost's attention and give away where he is. Why did this mansion have to be so big? There's so many rooms and hallways, he feels like he's going in circles and not making much progress, he just wants to find everyone and leave this place already. 'They have to be somewhere down here. The trapdoor has to lead into one of these rooms, right?' He wondered to himself as he quietly opens the door leading into a rather large room.

He enters the aforementioned room and shines the flashlight around for anything out of the ordinary. Nope. Just old and dusty furniture, nothing weird here, except for the coffin resting against the right-most wall. He shudders and whispers to himself. "That's... pretty weird. I really hope there isn't anything, or anyone, in that thing."

He turns to leave when he finds no signs of anyone being in the room, but he freezes in place when hears a noise coming from the coffin. He gulped, cold sweat runs down his head, and he very slowly turns back to the coffin and shines the flashlight to find it opening up, the light illuminates the revealed figure inside, a Bonpire... Sora was too horrified to utter a word. There isn't just a ghost hanging out in this place, monsters too?! 

The Bonpire's red eyes shot open and begins cackling as he leaps out of his coffin and lunges for Sora. The kid screams and sprints full-speed out of the room. So much for not drawing attention to himself.

He continued to shriek as the bonpire gave chase. Thinking he could get away if he went back upstairs, he sprints up the nearest staircase, and practically dives into the first room that had a door open, then slams it shut and pushes an old chair infront of it to barricade it. When Sora thought he was safe, he lets out a sigh of relief, and slumps into said chair. "Phew..."

His moment of relief quickly died when he heard something shuffle within the darkest corner of the room. A pair of glowing yellow eyes appear in the darkness, then whatever it was growls, before it leapt into the light of the flashlight. It was a wolf-like Wereron! They howl, then snarled at the kid. Sora screams once more before using the chair he was just using as a barricade as a throwable projectile at the beast, only them to swipe it away with no effort. Well that plan didn't work.

He swiftly opens the door, and yet again screams when turned out the bonpire was standing right in the doorway. Sora manages to sprint passed him and made a beeline for the stairs. Great, now he has a bonpire AND a wereron on his tail! Can it get any worse than this?!

As Sora ran through the hallway his friends found him in earlier, he had the bright idea of hiding in the same closet he used to escape the ghost earlier. The bonpire and wereron wouldn't even think to check there!

Without checking said closet first, he quickly ran in, and shuts the door before those monsters rounded the corner. He panted for bit before letting out another sigh. "Phew..." 

He wipes some sweat off his forehead, then slightly grimaced when he realized his head was covered with sweat. "Eugh, running away from those monsters left me all sweaty. I could really use a rag right about now."

Someone from behind him hands him a dry rag. "Oh!" He takes the rag. "Thanks." As he was wiping the sweat off his head, he suddenly freezes when makes a realization. "Wait... who handed me the rag when I'm the only one in here..?" Sora shakily turns to whoever was in the closet with him, and shines Polka's flashlight onto a one-eyed figure covered in rags and bandages, whom groaned lowly and began reaching for Sora.

"Muh... Muhh..." Sora stammered before screaming "MUMMYYYY!", and barged through the closet door and booked it, which caught the attention of the bonpire and wereron at the other end of the hallway, they, now with the mummy alongside them, once again pursue him.

Poor Sora kept on running and running in a vain attempt to get away from the group of monsters, he would've grown exhausted by now, but he was so pumped with adrenaline that he was determined to not get caught by the ghastly trio on his tail, however, this was for naught as he rounds a corner to dead-end. "Oh no!" He turns around to see the bonpire, wereron, and mummy surround him and slowly creep foward. He frantically tries to find a secret button to open a secret escape route. "C'mon c'mon! There has to be a secret button! There's always a secret button somewhere like in that one mystery cartoon!" Unlike the cartoon though, Sora could not find a hidden button, he was really trapped. He presses his back against the wall as the monsters crept closer and closer, his eyes were filled with tears, his head was covered in cold sweat, he was whimpering and shaking violently, he thought this was the end for him, this was how he was gonna go out.

The trio of monsters were now within arms-reach of Sora. As he braced for his doom, something woke up within him, all his fear was suddenly replaced by anger, and his biidama begins glowing brightly. He screamed "That's ENOUGH!" before firing a laser-shot at the monsters, and exploding a hole into the floor, which said monsters fall right through. Thinking he took care of them, Sora leaps over the hole he made and tries to make a run for it yet again, only to stop when he thought he heard his friends groaning. "Huh?"

He peeks into the hole, at first, all he could see was smoke and dust billowing through the air, but once it clears, he could now see the dazed monsters at the bottom- wait a minute, is that Polka, Tosukana, and Tiiru?! "Guys?!" Sora called out in disbelief.

Polka sat up and rubs his head. "Ow, my aching head..." He stops when he sees what is on him. "What the..? Why am I covered in bandages and stuff?"

"Owww... What... happened?" Tiiru dazily asks as they shakily get onto their arms. "Why do I feel all... fuzzy?

"And why are we in costume..?" Tosukana adds as he helps himself up and spits out the fake teeth.

"Guys!" Sora repeats, prompting the three to look up at him. "Sorabon!" They all shout, relieved he is okay.

"You're okay!" Exclaimed Tiiru.

Sora jumps into the biidaman-made hole and lands on the spot near his friends. "Of course I'm okay!" He closes his eyes. "Now, let ask you three this..." His eyes open to reveal flames, he flails his arms about, and his head gets comically large as he bellows at his friends, making them scream because they did not expect this kind of reaction. "WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA!?!? WAS THIS ANOTHER PRANK!?!? YOU ALL ALMOST SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH!!!"

Polka rapidly waves his arms around. "S-Sorabon! Calm down! We can explain!"

That only calmed him a little bit. He then crosses his arms. "Hmph! You three better explain yourselves!"

"Sorabon, we really didn't mean to scare you so badly." Tosukana began.

"We didn't mean to because we don't even remember doing it." Tosukana and Polka nod as Tiiru finished.

That explanation didn't convince Sora. "Likely story."

"Dude, it's true." Polka insisted. "You don't know what happened after we fell through that trapdoor." 

Now he was intrigued. "What did happen after you guys fell into that trapdoor anyway?"

"Allow me to explain to give you a clear vision." Polka started. "After falling into it, we fell and got caught in a net trap at the bottom. Apparently, the Neo Devil Trio have set up shop down in one of the basement rooms, and they were watching everything unfold the whole time!"

Sora's eyes got big. "Wait, those three are behind all this?!"

Polka nods. "Yeah, and they also were behind the whole ghost prank! That ghost was nothing but a hologram they set up!"

Sora's eye twitched. "Are you kidding me?!"

Tosukana shook his head. "Nope."

Polka continues. "After they tell us about their prank, they told us that we're gonna be apart of it. You think we wanted in on their prank after that whole ghost trick? Heck no!"

Tiiru chimes in. "That's when Hades got out this weird swirly gun thing, and then... I don't remember what happened after that."

"And the next thing we knew, there was an explosion, and we fall through the floor, we're also in costume for some reason." Tosukana added while pulling at his costume.

"They made you guys think you were monsters and made you all chase me all around this place to scare me! You don't remember any of that?!" Sora exclaimed.

All three shook their head in response. "Not a dang thing." Polka replied.

Knowing now that this was all just a mischievious prank pulled by the Devil siblings, Sora clenched his fists tightly. How dare they pull something like this on him! How dare they play such a cruel joke, not to mention hypnotizing his friends into involuntarily scaring the crud out of him, and above all, possibly giving him a sore throat later from making him scream so much! "Grrrr... Those absolute JERKS! I can't believe them!" 

"And I thought I scared ya' bad earlier, but those three took it too far!" Polka growls as he balled his fists. "I want to get back at them for hypnotizing us and covering me in rags!"

"Normally, I would disagree about "getting back" at someone," Tosukana glares his costume. "but I don't very much appreciate getting hypnotized into scaring my friend!"

"And I don't appreciate getting put into such a tacky costume!" Tiiru adds as they're pulling at their urufuron costume.

Sora spent some time thinking about how to get back at the devious trio, then his eyes turn into light-bulbs, and gains an evilish look as he gets a devious idea, an idea to give the Devillish pranksters a taste of their own medicine. "Guys, huddle up, I think I have the perfect way to get back at those three." He huddles everyone together to discuss his plan. "Some of the things we need are white glow-in-the-dark paint, and some chains..."

~~

"Eeee heheheee! They surely scared Sorabon good!" Dandylion laughed.

"Did you see the faces he made when saw our "monsters?" Priceless!" Lucifer cackles. "He even fell for our hologram!"

"I wouldn't be too surprised if he busted out of here out of terror while crying for his friends." Mocked Hades.

"I don't see him on any of the cameras we set up." Dandylion giggled as they flipped through the camera screens from their phone. "So I guess he did flee from terror!"

"Brat said he is a hero?" Lucifer blew a raspberry. "More like a big baby."

The siblings laugh heartily, until they heard moaning. "Uh... what was that?" Dandylion asks.

"Was that you, Lucy?" Hades questioned.

"No, it wasn't me. I thought it was from one of you two." Lucifer answered.

"Then..." Dandylion begins trembling and whimpering. "Who made the noise..?"

The trio begin to hear the sounds of chains being dragged across the floor, getting closer to their place of hiding, all three begin to get nervous. "Please tell me this a prank you two set up." Begged Lucifer.

"L-Lu-Lucy, it-it's not us!" Hades insisted shakily.

The sounds of chains dragging across the floor crept closer and closer, then stop right at the doorway, the three very slowly turn to the doorway's direction, until the trio saw a white glowing shape. Their faces contort in horror, then they shriek at the sight, it was Sorabon, but... he was glowing white, his eyes were glowing red, he had chains on both his wrists, and he looked like a zombie. "S-So-Sorab-bon?!" All three stammered out of fear.

Sora's "ghost" lifted up an arm to point at the three. "Yoooouuu..." He droned on as he crept over to the frightened trio. The siblings all cower to nearest corner.

"S-Sora-b-bon, wha-what happened t-to you?!" Dandylion asked shakily.

"You allll know what happened..." He lifted up an arm to point at them once again. "I died of fright because of your prank..."

"N-No way..." Uttered Lucifer.

"Th-That wasn't supposed to happen!" Shouted Hades.

"It was only meant to scare you, not to death!" Dandylion yelled.

"Wa-Wait, ho-how do you kn-know it was OUR pr-prank?!" Lucifer inquired. 

As if on cue their "monsters" emerged from the shadows. "They told me..." The "spirit" replied.

"EH?!" The Devil siblings shout in unison.

"Now because of you, my friends are cursed to be monsters and to be bound to stay at this old mansion with me... forever!" The ghost announced, raising both of his arms.

"You took it too faaaarrrr..." Tiiruwolf growled.

"The four of us are now bound here because of you three..." Tosukanapire spoke lowly.

"We ought to return the faaavvoorrrr..." Mummy Polka droned whilst glaring at the three.

"Great idea, Porukabon..." Sora agreed, and the four tower over the terrified siblings menacingly, gleams appearing their eyes. "They deserve payback by making their last moments... A LIVING NIGHTMARE!" They all cackle as they surround the three.

The Neo Devil Trio all shriek in absolute terror, scream "WE'RE SORRYYYYY!" before jumping up, book it through the doorway, and make a beeline for the entrance they came in through, the kitchen entrance. They bust through the door, slam it shut, barricade it with planks, then take off in their aircraft. The group of four made it to one of the kitchen windows just in time to see the siblings take off, then they all laugh and give eachother high-fives.

"Dude nice! We sure scared the pants off of them!" Polka exclaimed whilst still snickering.

Sora agreed. "We sure did! It's what they get for hypnotizing you guys and scaring me to "death."" He snickered.

"How long do you think it will take until they realized they got pranked?" Tiiru questioned.

"Probably whenever they start causing trouble again." Tosukana answered.

"Y'know, Sorabon, for a biidaman that doesn't like spooky stuff, you surely know how to pull off a scary prank!" Polka commended.

Sora bashfully rubs the back of his head. "Well, I did get some help from you guys. I just came up with the idea." 

Polka pats Sora on the back. "I must admit, I honestly thought you would leave us behind after getting so scared like that, yet, you stayed."

"While I'll say I did think about that," Sora proudly puts his hands on his hips. "it would be very unheroic of me to leave my friends behind when they're in trouble, so I bravely trudged forward to find you guys!"

Polka chuckles. "I guess I was wrong about you being a chicken. Sorry about earlier."

"While all this did happen because of you, I forgive you." Sora joked.

"Wha- Hey!" Polka shouts as Sora laughed.

Tiiru happened to glance to the right when they heard something, and something caught their eye. "Not to interrupt you guys, but who's that?" They ask while pointing at a glowing white old-looking biidaman floating behind the group.

The others turn around, and see what Tiiru was talking about. Polka chuckled and nudged Sora's shoulder. "Ha! Nice try, Sorabon!"

Sora was merely bemused by Polka's reaction to seeing this. "Huh?"

"I know this another prank of yours. You turned on the Devil kids' hologram when we weren't looking. Go on, spill the beans!" Polka insisted.

"Uh, no, I thought you turned on the hologram thing." Sora stated.

Polka went quiet. "Nnooo, I didn't turn it on." He turned to Tiiru and Tosukana. "Did one of you two-..?"

Tosukana shook his head. "Nope."

Tiiru shrugged. "I forgot there was a hologram thing."

Sora began. "If it wasn't you guys, then..." A look of grim realization crept onto the four's faces, and they slowly turn to their guest. "Who is that..?"

..."Leave...NOOOOOW!" The spirit bellowed.

All four kids scream and make a beeline for the exit they came through. Shian was about ask Dot to play another round when the four burst through the doors, Sora slamming the doors behind him. Their exit startles Dot. "Ah!"

"About time you guys get out there! What took you all so long, and what's with the costumes?" Shian questioned.

"Are you guys-" Dot tried to say, but was quickly interrupted.

"Can't explain now! Dotto! Shian! Get in your mechs, we need to leave now!" Polka hurriedly answered.

"Why?" Shian inquires. "Why are you all acting like you've seen a ghost?"

"Just get in your mechs NOW!" Polka screamed.

"Alright alright, sheesh! I don't know why you all are in such a hurry." Shian helps Dot get into Lightning-Bug before hopping into Cyan-Sniper. As soon as Dot is in the mech, the four spooked kids swiftly take off ahead of Shian, involuntarily leaving her in the dust.

"HEY!" She yells out angrily as she starts up her tank, and quickly takes off after them. "GET BACK HERE! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME IN THE DUST!"

The ghost of the mansion's first owner watches the kids take off through the foyer's window, takes a sip of ghostly tea from his ghostly teacup, then shakes his head. "Kids these days, they never learn to stay away from creepy abandoned places, don't they?"

[znaeb]

hey sweetheart! I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering if you could write something with Zion and him being prettymuch moody af because he’s away from you (because they’re on tour) and the boys have to text or call you to help deal because of it and just cute fluff between him and his girl on the phone or facetime 🥺

Grumpy // Z.K.

Brandon called you at around 10:00pm. It was fairly uncommon for him to call you so you didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Hello?” you answered confused, hoping nothing bad had happened. 

“Dude! Can you please call your boyfriend? He’s been such an asshole today and he keeps complaining that you haven’t called him and we’re all so done with him.” he didn’t return your greeting before going in on Zion and you couldn’t help but laugh at how over it he sounded, “he misses you so much it’s borderline pathetic…”  

“Okay okay okay… lemme call and see if i can snap him out of it.” you giggled through the phone as you thought about your clingy boyfriend complaining about not being able to talk to you. 

“Thank fuck. You’re the best y/n, thank you.” he sounded relieved that he didn’t have to deal with Z anymore. 

“Sure thing, B.” you nodded to yourself, “talk to you later.” 

“Bye-bye.” he bid over the phone before hanging up. 

you went to the kitchen and got yourself a mug of tea before going back to your room, laying down in bed and pressing call on Zion’s contact, laughing breathily through your nose when he picked up on the second ring. 

“Baby!” he exclaimed through the phone, sounding very excited. you could tell that Brandon wasn’t exaggerating when he said Zion missed you. 

“Hi, lovey!” you matched his excitement with your tone. 

“I miss you so much, I’ve honestly been in such a bad mood today because I keep remembering you’re not here…” he said quietly, making you swoon at his honest and unguarded emotion. 

“Aw I know, hun, Brandon called me.” you giggled when he gasped in surprise. 

“He did? What’d he say?” he asked, faking offense and chuckling a bit. 

“He said that you were, quote: ‘being such an asshole’,” you spoke goofily, knowing he’d think it was funny too. 

“That dickhead!” he said as he laughed at his friend’s words, then much quieter he said, “but he’s right, not gonna lie.” 

“Aw baby, i miss you.” you pouted through the phone, “how are your shows going? are they good?” you asked hopefully, trying to take his mind off of it. 

“Yeah, they’re going good. I keep hurting my ankle when we do this one dance move though.” he said frustratedly, “Nick says it’s because I’m not doing it right, but I’m doing it exactly the way he showed me and it still hurts.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” you had to keep yourself from giggling at his little rant, “I’m sure it’ll get better.” 

“Baby, i want you.” he whined through the phone, “my whole body misses you,” he said suggestively, making you finally understand his irritable mood. 

“Oh… so you’re grumpy because you’re horny hmmm…” you said, raising your eyebrows and sinking down in bed. 

“Always… but today especially.” he groaned.

“and why’s that?” you bit your nails, hoping that it wasn’t because of some groupie he’d seen during or after a performance. 

“Because I found that one video of you from the morning before I left… fuck baby, I almost forgot how hot you are…” he practically moaned through the phone. 

you knew exactly which video he was referring to. the one he took to ‘remember you by’. It featured you in one of his thin white shirts and a pair of underwear. laying in bed with him and occasionally kissing his shoulder or chest as he talked to you, asking you how much you’d miss him and telling you how much he’d miss you. hair messy from things you’d been doing before he turned on the camera. 

you were pleased with his answer, confidence boosted one thousand percent at his desperate words. 

“Aw, my poor baby,” you spoke slowly and seductively just to mess with him a bit. 

“Fuck, don’t do this to me…” he groaned, only partially joking when he said, “don’t use your sexy voice…”  

“What sexy voice?” you played dumb as you stood up from the bed, going to your dresser to retrieve his favorite lingerie set of yours. planning on sending him some fun pictures. 

“Babe you know what you’re doing, don’t play that with me,” he spoke firmly, voice slightly muffled, and you could picture him frustratedly pushing his face into his pillow. 

you posed in front of your mirror in your rosy pink lingerie, snapping a few good photos and sending them to him over snapchat. 

“Check your snap.” you said nonchalantly as you laid down on the bed, seeing when he opened them and then screenshotted them a second later. 

“holy shit.” he said loudly, his voice ringing through your room since he was still on speaker, “how are you so hot?!” he said almost in disbelief. 

“I dunno.” you shrugged and giggled at him. 

“well I’ll definitely be using those later…” he trailed off making you laugh out loud again. 

“go for it,” you said enthusiastically as you slipped your comfy pajamas back on and climbed into bed once again. 

“But seriously, baby i miss you… I’ve been having trouble sleeping…” he sounded almost ashamed to admit it, your heart ached at the thought of him unhappy. 

“Well, then call me. I’ll help you sleep, hunny bunches.” you babied him a little bit, you felt like he deserved it. 

“I’m not gonna call you in the middle of the night just to tell you i can’t sleep.” you could feel his eyes rolling. 

“Yeah, you will.” you said seriously, “I want you to.” 

you knew it would be hard for him to let you help him, but you were determined to get him to open up. you listened as he sighed on the other end of the phone, hoping he’d realize that you meant what you said. 

“Okay.” he spoke softly after a moment, “okay I’ll call you when i have trouble sleeping.” 

you smiled at this, happy that he trusted you, “okay.” you spoke giddily. 

“I’m gonna go kick Austin’s ass at fortnite. You get some rest baby, i forgot you’re an hour ahead, you must be tired.” he said sweetly through the phone. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later.” you smiled, “Call me if you need me.” 

“I will. Goodnight babydoll,” he whispered to you. 

“Goodnight.” 

****

Thanks for the request sweetie!

[chloe-clegane]

My Devotion and Mah Protection - Chapter 6

We This Night Are Bound As One

AO3

Prev Chapter

Next Chapter

Dress Illustration 

Music

----------

Callum could feel himself sweating as he muttered the script to himself. Any moment now, he would be walking up onto that platform and performing a sealing ritual. The anxiety had him wishing he could crawl out of his skin.

Ezran cocked his head to one side and made a face. “Callum, you look like you’re going to vomit, then pass out from not breathing, and then maybe vomit again.” His aunt backed up his brother’s statement and signed for him to take deep breaths.

He did as he was told and tried to match his inhale and exhales to the pace of her hand gliding up and down, up and down.

“Ok better, wow that helped. How much longer? I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. Ezran, look around the henge. S-she’s there right? She wouldn't change her mind right?”

The more Callum spoke the more the anxiety moved back into his voice.

“Noooooo,” his brother whined. “She hasn’t changed her mind. I think now we’re just waiting on the music and lights. So any minute?”

Amaya agreed with Ezran again signing, “ Yes , she loves you, and she’s right over there. So just take calming breaths.” She continued to coax inhale-exhale motions.

“Cool, cool, cool as a cucumber, so cool.” Callum failed to convincingly be cool. He instead went back to muttering all the steps and words of the ritual while rocking on his heels. There was no officiant for the ceremony, and he was determined not to make an ass of himself.  

The drums of the Moonshadow Druids started to beat softly and the soft glowing orbs began to float from between the towering stones. His aunt squeezed his shoulder one more time and Callum took another deep breath as he got into position, standing behind his aunt and brother. They passed through the great stone pillars and approached the circle. The drums grew louder with every step they took. Callum’s view was partially obstructed by his aunt’s height, but he could still see over his thirteen-year-old brother. He looked over and spotted Ethari stepping up into the light opposite them, Rayla was completely blocked from view behind him.

The family of three took their final steps to the edge of the platform and the deafening drumming fell silent, creating a vacuum. Ezran, in his most regal voice began speaking, his aunt signed in unison. “We are kin to Prince Callum of Katolis, we deliver him this night to be wed.”

They both stepped to either side and Callum took a step forward. As he turned back, they handed him an intricately woven silk band. He let out the breath he was holding and took the last two steps up to the outer ring. Callum went through a list in his head: smile, stand up straight, breathe, don’t lock my knees, close my mouth, breathe. Breathe.

He was fully in the light of the clearing and orbs bounced on the perimeter resembling swirling fireflies. But the main source of light was the moon itself. Somehow it seemed bigger and brighter here at the Nexus.

Ethari’s voice, much like Ezran’s, was puffed up and projected, but retained its usual gentleness. “I am kin tae Rayla of the Silvergrove, Daughter of Tiadrin and Lain, I deliver her this night tae be wed.” He stepped aside and Callum’s entire don’t look like an idiot checklist went out the window.

She was radiant.

Everything about her was otherworldly, she was the most beautiful creature that ever lived and Callum would fight anyone who tried to disagree. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also smiling at him, a perfect, pure smile. He saw her eyes and they were on him, and only him. She looked like the definition of love.

At this point, Callum knew he must look ridiculous, a wide smile spread across his face. She turned momentarily and his heart almost broke from the deprivation of her beauty. Divine countenance. Ethari handed her two rings and hugged her. She kissed his cheek. When she looked at Callum, she glided into the illuminated circle the demure sweet smile changed. Suddenly Callum had to ask himself, is that how goofy I look? But he realized that blushing wide smile, the one where she looked like she was going to squeal at any moment, was better. She wasn’t just some ethereal goddess, she was his steadfast weirdo goddess, his Rayla. And in that dress, he wanted to worship at her altar. Hard.

Her dress was fitted close to her body, the skirt flowed in pleats with slits from the hip on either side. The slits were high enough for him to be very excited but low enough to be tasteful. The collar was high with a cut out above the bust, there were band-like sleeves on her arms but her shoulders were bare .The dress was covered in beading that coruscated in the light, the whole dress was white in the human style.

Callum had expected to see intricate braids, but her hair was simple. Beautiful. Topped with a moon opal hairpiece connecting a web of crystal and silver glittering beads woven between her horns, one strand hung across her brow like a tiara. As she moved her head the beads swayed and reflected light.

She knocked him out of his reverie by shooting him her trademark ‘pay attention you big dumb human’ face. She subtly emphasized that fact her arms were up in position. Even her annoyed looks were perfect, absolutely divine. He lifted his arms and they shared a smile and a deep breath in unison. They began to dance, accompanied by the clear cascading sound of a harp. They dance around the circle and then into each other’s arms. As soon as they touched he had to resist the urge to kiss her right away and from the look on her face, Callum could only assume she was fighting a similar urge. She stroked his hand with her thumb and they shared another breath.

“I, Prince Callum of Katolis, come to pledge my abiding love to you, Rayla of the Silvergrove. I promise my devotion, my respect, and my generosity. I vow to fortify you in adversity and honor you in your triumphs. I will cherish and adore you and swear my loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Rayla, will you take me?

“I do.” Her answer was clear and confident. He took the ring meant for her and slipped it onto her middle finger. This was strictly a human tradition but she had been happy to include it and excited to wear it. She told him she liked the idea of showing him off even if it was just with one finger. Her violet eyes were glassy and he squeezed her hand before she started her speech. “I, Rayla of the Silvergrove, accept your pledge and offer mah own fierce love in return. I promise you mah protection, mah appreciation, and mah affection. I vow to give you honesty in happiness and despair, and to support you in your toils. I will treasure you and love you. I swear mah loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Callum, will you take me?

She quickly wiped away the few tears she let slip, while he, on the other hand, allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. Rayla wiped them away herself and cupped his cheek, he leaned into her touch and projected, “I do.” When she went to slide the ring on his middle finger, he wiggled his ring finger, she blushed and course-corrected.

She was his blushing bride, looking up at him with her glowing lavender eyes. He had to remind himself they weren’t done, all that was left was the ritual portion. Just one more step before he could pull Rayla close and officially be hers, for the rest of their days.

He handed her part of the silk band with the runes woven into the fabric. Together they wrapped the band, loosely attaching themselves to one another. They spoke in unison “Love is the Moon, guiding in the darkness. We this night are joined as kin, we this night are bound as one”.

Again, they danced, moving with the flowing stream of the harp . They had spent hours practicing this dance and when they finished he could hardly believe that he had done it without a single mistake. The goal of the ritual was to complete the steps without tangling the band. They had to move intuitively together, maneuvering as one.

When they struck the last pose they spoke the actual spell, “love bound” in draconic, the silk binding burst into glowing dust that swirled up and dispersed above their heads, like glitter. The sensation of the spell was like nothing he’d ever felt. For just a moment he could feel her heart. It was indescribable.

Now, finally, they threw themselves into each other’s arms. He pulled her face to his and they kissed with vigor. They broke apart and said, “I love you,” simultaneously. He spun her around while they both laughed. The elation he felt at that moment was palpable. All the guests were clapping and from somewhere in the back Soren could be heard howling, “Whoooooo! Yeah! You did it!”

------

Immediately after the ceremony, Rayla and Callum walked hand in hand out of the henge and down the long winding path to the buildings below. Part way, Rayla stopped so she could take the stupid human coin out of her shoe. Callum chuckled and did the same.

“What dae we need lucky riches for anyways? Ye’re a prince, doesn’t that mean you already have that?”

Callum laughed and raised his hands in defense “Hey I didn’t make up the shoe coin thing and anyways It’s supposed to bring prosperity, not just money. I just so happen to think prosperity would be handy for a lot of things.”

Rayla rolled her eyes and smiled at him trying to quickly replace the shoe without halting the train of people “Not convinced. But sure I’ll humor you.” She grabbed his hand as they kept walking. “I’m starvin’, dae you suppose snack prosperity is a thing?”

“Hmmmm,” he pondered, tapping his chin for comedic effect “Should we have put deviled eggs in our shoes then?”

She made a face “Honestly Callum… I think the coin’s’a better idea than that.”

“What about kissing prosperity? That sounds real,” He leaned in and stole one from her lips.

She giggled. “Maybe so, but I’m not kissin’ yer shoes tae find out”.

“Fair, shoes are kind of gross. But hey, I’ll kiss your face! All day, every day, until forever.” He leaned into her and kissed her shoulder and then her cheek.  

“Ugh, yer so cute.” She whined. “Have I said how much I love you today?”

“You know what? I think you might have, in a very formal, magically binding kind of way, if I’m remembering correctly.” he teased.

“Oh yes , that’s right. Hmmm well I’ll still, just fer good measure,” She walked backwards in front of him “I love you Callum.” and then she bit her lip, in the flirty way she knows he loves.

“That’s it. I have to ensure kiss prosperity, I love you too much to risk it.” He lunged for her and she stepped aside. He laughed.

“Oh no, not the kissin’ prosperity! The price is just too high Callum , ” she put the back of her hand to her forehead and gasped dramatically.

“Rayla, you must give me your foot. Kissing prosperity is too important, it’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’m very serious” He was not very serious.

“Yer going tae have tae catch me first, you filthy human!” She turned and bolted away with a skip in her step.

“Hey! That’s filthy ‘husband’ to you,” he pointed at her indignantly before he chased her down the path, both of them cackling like idiots.

When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, she allowed him to jokingly kiss the top of her foot. But then he took advantage of the slit in her skirt and kissed his way up to her knee. Setting it down quickly, the line of party guests started to catch up with them. She didn’t think kissing prosperity would be an issue, because she had already lost count of them.

At the reception they presented each other with the elven wedding bands. Callum slid the cuffs onto her horns and then lifted her chin to kiss her sweetly. It made her knees weak. She was a big bad warrior that could be brought down with just those green eyes and soft lips. It was a fact about herself she both loved and hated… but mostly loved.

Ethari had thought of a clever solution for Callum’s lack of horns. It had taken a bit of convincing before Callum agreed to let her pierce his ears. A little over a month ago she practically had to sit on his chest so she could get the needle through the cartilage on the stubby round top of his ear. The second ear was much easier once he realized he didn’t need to be such a whiny baby about it. Her eye rolling ran rampant. She fastened the wedding bands as gently as possible. He did much better this go’round only wincing slightly as she placed the two wide cuff earring in the still healing holes. She secured the pin closure and admired her handy work. He was adorable and she loved making their bond so clear to the world. She was so proud to love him.

They kissed again and people ooohed and ahhhhed. It was bizarre to receive so much praise for public displays of affection. Before she could make her way over to the food Callum grabbed her wrist with one hand and pointed at her with the other. And of all things yelled “THAT’S MY WIFE!”

“Woooooo!” Soren yelled in reply. When he released her to walk away, he then high fived his brother.

“What are you-?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

The feast was held in the style of her people. Low tables were surrounded with cushions and small portions of food were carried around by illusions. Some of the human guests were confused, used to large banquet tables and huge plates, not everyone grasped the concept. She saw the King of Del Bar take an entire tray of bite-sized meat skewers and then walked around with it, befuddled as if he should take an entire tray of stuffed mushrooms as well. Rayla hid her mirth until she was able to point it out to Ezran and Queen Aanya, there was giggling.

As they walked around greeting guests, people praised her looks or her dancing in the ceremony. Callum would lean into the person, point at her and then say, “that’s my wife.” It was becoming a little ridiculous.

She patted his linked arm “Callum I think they know.”

He shrugged and she rolled her eyes… again. He was a complete mystery to her sometimes. This didn’t seem like some human thing, this just seemed like a goofy Callum thing.

They lounged back on cushions at their private table and fed each other food and cake, kissing between bites. They had picked the menu, and the couple was very pleased with themselves. Rayla checked another box. Snack prosperity seemed to be working, squishy shoe or not. Callum received the deviled eggs he had been pining for all week and she got her stuffed bacon dates. They nibbled happily, enjoying every bite - until Soren used a table as a platform and started clanking a glass.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, everyone, excuse me!”

People stopped what they were doing to pay attention. “Hello everyone, thank you. I would like to make a toast.”

“Oh no,” Rayla was filled with sudden dread and pushed on Calum's arm, “go, stop him. Oooooooh no, this is bad.” She moved to get up but her husband’s chuckle stopped her. He spoke softly in her ear, “Aw, come on Rayla, Soren’s our friend! Let’s let him have his moment. I’m sure he’ll say something really sweet.” He kissed her cheek.

“I’m tellin’ you Callum this is not going tae end well,” she hissed. Soren started speaking and she forced her mouth shut, looking on with dread.

“So, I’ve known Callum basically forever. I used to be his sword fighting teacher, and oh boy was he bad at that.” She shot her husband an ‘I told you so’ look. He returned a nervous smile “It’s fine though, now he’s got the magic stuff going for him. Zap hands and all that. My buddy here is really cool.” Callum gave her an apologetic look, maybe it won’t be so bad .

“More importantly I’m glad he’s got Rayla going for him. She’s the best! She’s even cooler than Zap Hands. She’s probably the best thing in his whole life”.

Rayla smirked, he was right about that at least. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but then it took a turn for the worst. “The first time I met her, I tried to kill her... while she was sleeping…” aaaaaand the smirk was gone.

There was a very awkward silence, and the blond idiot took another big sip from his glass. It occurred to Rayla that that was not his first big sip and maybe not his first glass either. She tried not to groan out loud.

“So uh anyways, didn’t kill her, for the record. But I guess you already know that - because she’s alive and stuff. But also for the record, I still think the mud in my mouth was kind of a cheap shot,” he laughed at his own memory. “Gross. So yeah, I think we’ve all grown so much as people since then. I still remember Callum as this dweeb who used to fall in the mud all the time. I never would have thought you could get a wife this cool.”  

This time Rayla did groan aloud, and Callum, who originally smiled politely, was now glaring at their friend.

“I don’t think he’s a dork anymore, though. I still feel bad about all those times I used to make fun of him and hurt his feelings. But you know, I really only did it because my dad didn’t love me,” he paused and frowned. He looked down into his empty cup. “I think I just hurt my own feelings…”

Rayla covered her eyes. This was too hard to watch.

There wasn’t a cringe-free face in the crowd. “I feel like I lost the point here a bit. But uh, aren't they just the best though?” Some people nodded in agreement, taking slow bites as they watched the things play out. “Rayla is strong, and really funny, and cool. Callum is so nice and he’s smart and, like I said before. Zap hands. Pew-pew!” He gestured with what appeared to be magic hands. “What I'm trying to say is they’re really awesome and I’m really glad they’re married. Also Callum, you bagged a hottie. I’m proud of you, bud.” He winked.

“Hey, okay ! ” Ezran climbed onto the table beside their friend and patted his back “Soren, that was so... great! Give it up for Soren everyone.” A few people clapped awkwardly.

“Aw, thanks Ez! Oh hey Amaya,” he said as Callum’s aunt reached up to give the big dumb oaf a hand off the table. She then proceeded to guide him to a plate of bready carbohydrates. Rayla figured a few glasses of water wouldn’t hurt either.

Ezran was a natural public speaker soo when he started people listened.

“I’ll keep my speech brief.” He smiled over at Rayla and Callum. “I have the world's best brother. Growing up, he always looked out for me and loved me unconditionally. Well, now he’s given me a sister too and Soren was right, she is so amazing. The best part is, I know my brother has someone who looks out for him, who loves him, and makes him feel special and happy. A partner.” At this point, Callum reached over and took her hand. They shared a smile before turning back. “Rayla, I’m so happy you're my sister and I want you to know I think our parents would have been happy to have you as a daughter. I think they would be as proud as I am to have you in our family. So, everyone, please raise your glasses to Rayla and Callum!”

The whole party raised their glasses and toasted them. Rayla was grateful for Ezran’s smooth recovery from Soren’s debacle.    

The soft music sped up into a lively tune and it was time to dance. Callum laughed as she pulled him onto the dancefloor. When they began to spin and jump, she loved the way it felt, the silk skirt swirling around her and the beads decorating her hair and horns swung and jingled. It was strange to her, feeling beautiful. Rayla had been skeptical of the white dress, she thought having only one color would be boring, but when the dressmaker described the idea for the swirling patterns of beads, it intrigued her. But she wasn’t prepared for the final result, it was stunning. One color became a glistening rainbow in the right light. It was the most elegant thing she’d ever seen. The first time she tried it on she felt like a fish out of water, an ugly duck, she had been terrified she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But hours before the wedding, when Ethari placed her mother's hair piece on her head, she shed tears. Tears for her mother, tears for

the heirloom, tears of excitement, and tears of overwhelming joy.

She felt like she was floating. Callum watched her dance with a certain look in his eye. It wasn't the licentious prince grin. It was a different look of desire, and it stole her breath away. He wanted her, and she wanted him in return. It wasn’t just the dress that made her feel beautiful, but rather the way he looked at her. He saw her in a way no one ever had, and because of that she was able to see herself in a new way. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like, what she as a person would be like, without the way he looked at her. He’d told her countless times that she made his life better by just being in it. It was mutual.

Rayla spun again and again, and she met his eyes every time her head came around and the entire world melted away. His hand guided her waist, grazing it and, like the turning of a grindstone, sent sparks across her skin.

When the song finally came to a close, they clung to each other. She held his face in her hands and kissed him and then tucked his hair back “I love you, mah sweet darlin’ Callum. Dae you want tae, uhh,” she gestured off the dancefloor with a jerk of her head. He agreed smiling but when she snuck them past the dancing and all the way out of the bustling party, he seemed confused.

She pulled him just out of sight behind a tree. “I love you so fuckin’ much Callum.” She pressed him against the tree and their tongues spoke passion instead of words. She sighed as he ran his hands up her exposed legs. His hands were warm and wanting. The kissing prosperity was seemingly endless.

When they snuck back a few minutes later, his loving torture knew no bounds. While she danced in a group without him, she completed an acrobatic jump with ease and some of the humans looked very impressed. She was bashful, and she didn’t think much of it, but then Callum from the side of the dance floor got on a table. Why do all the humans keep jumping on tables? she asked herself, frustrated. Then he pointed at her and she muttered, “ Oh no, not again .”

“THAT’S MY WIFE!” he yelled it proudly and laughed. She hid her face in her hands, her cheeks were pink, but she smiled. When she looked up, she narrowed her eyes and shot her uncle a glare. Ethari high-foured Callum as he jumped down. Despite her frequent admonishments over the years that he shouldn’t humor Callum’s human follies, he always did it anyways.

He was too adorable for her to be annoyed with him, not for long anyways. She was too in love with him to feel anything negative about him for long. She pulled him back on the dancefloor after that. The music of the fiddles and drums set a joyful mood. She and Callum took turns dancing with everyone. Rayla even agreed to dance with Soren, who had sobered up a bit. She punched him in the arm when the song ended in revenge. She and Ezran laughed their entire dance - he was terrible at it, but they had a great time. But Rayla did notice Ezran dance with Ellis multiple times, she and bait were his only other partners. Amaya and Janai participated in just one circle dance. It was cute seeing them blush through the steps trying to loosen up. Aanya attempted some of the lifts and jumps and did well, the young queen was always impressing her. Ethari and she danced expertly together. This is what the rest of her life was going to feel like and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

For a couple more hours, she and Callum ate, danced, toasted, and laughed with their family and friends. The kissing prosperity was prosperous.

Callum held her face and kissed her, “You are my wife,” he whispered. She laughed, giving him a playful shove. It was time to take her sweet revenge. She walked away from him, climbed on top of a table, and yelled into the crowd, pointing for everyone to see and hear, “THAT’S MAH HUSBAND!”  

It was the happiest night of Rayla’s life.

[awake-not-today]

Namkook The Gifted Hands / Psychometry au:

Detective Kim Namjoon is investigating the case of a child disappearance. When the child's body is found, Namjoon finds himself trailing a murderer.

During his investigation he remembers a run in he'd had with a graffiti artist one night, and the artwork he'd done depicting the scene in which the child's body was found.

The graffiti which had been painted a month before the discovery of the child's body.

Jeon Jungkook is a small time graffiti artist with a secret, the power to see the memories of any living thing he touches. He hides himself away from the world, ashamed of who he is, that is until he's thrown head first into a murder investigation and becomes the prime suspect.

Part 6 of ?

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Namjoon didn’t exactly have a lot to go on.

He couldn’t access the evidence, not while it was still being processed at least, and it’s not like he could ask for any details regarding the case. Gwon wouldn’t tell him shit, and Seokjin was determined Namjoon should let it go and take some time off. Anything that could be of help was off limits. Useless.

But what he did have was a paint can, some less than helpful pictures of the graffiti, and the knowledge that the killer had a gash on the back of his neck from the fight they'd had earlier. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Namjoon pondered on it, giving Taehyung a small wave as he left the apartment. What could he possibly gather from what he had?

The paint can seemed to be the most crucial thing he had so far, and the knowledge that the very brief time he'd seen the guy's face, at least partially, was that he was young. A student perhaps? There was an art school not too far from him. It would make sense. But then that posed another problem. How many students used spray paint? How many males? Namjoon groaned, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. His head was fucking pounding. The hit he'd taken was pretty hard, but at least the ice had taken down most of the swelling. Small mercies.

Getting to his feet, Namjoon wandered to the bathroom, taking a couple of painkillers from the bathroom cabinet. He moved to the kitchen area, grabbing himself a glass of water to swallow them down. He kept his eyes on the paint can sat on his coffee table as he downed his water, debating the next step. He supposed he could go to the university and ask, but then they’d probably ask for a warrant and Namjoon had no way of getting one of those.

The other option he had was going to the art store the paint came from and hope the had a list of names on record. There was so many art stores in Seoul though, and it could have come from anywhere. He didn’t even know where to start, where do students buy their materials. Namjoon frowned and worried his bottom lip, a habit he had when he was deep in thought. Who would know where to go? Who knew the ins and outs of Seoul? Only one name came to mind.

Hoseok.

That little bastard knew everything about this city, constantly looking for new ways to make money. He lived for the hustle, of course he'd probably have some knowledge of the students in the city. Easy targets, young and dumb. Exactly what Hoseok liked. Namjoon moved quickly, grabbing the first shirt he could find that smelled vaguely clean, and threw it on before grabbing his jacket and the paint can to go find his roommate.

The streets were busy at this time, late afternoon. People leaving their jobs and stopping for food and drinks, exactly the right place for Hoseok to be with his latest venture. He heard Hoseok's laugh before he saw him, bright and cheerful as he joked with the customers at his food van. He stood in line, waiting until the customers dispersed, and approached quietly.

“Welcome to Hobi's food van!” Hoseok hadn’t looked up yet, tucking away the money he'd recieved. “What can I- oh! Namjoon!”

“Hoseok.” Namjoon smiled, leaning against the counter. “I need your help.”

“What’s up?” Hoseok handed Namjoon a fish cake, smiling. Namjoon took a bite and almost groaned, as much as Hobi was a little shit, he sure made some good food. Namjoon swallowed, setting the wooden stick down on the side, and looked at Hoseok again.

“I need you.” Namjoon thought for a moment. “And your van.”

Hoseok didn’t reply, instead laughing. Namjoon didn’t laugh, keeping his face serious. Hoseok blinked, mouth closing. “What? No! This is the busiest time, Joon-ah. I’m making money here!”

“Hoseok. You owe me.” Namjoon smiled now, or more grimaced. Hoseok just looked confused. “I sold my car for and put all of my life savings into that fucking pyramid scheme of yours.”

“Network marketing was a great opportunity, Namjoon.” Hoseok looked affronted. “It’s not my fault.”

“You can trust him, Joon-ah! He's a great guy!” Namjoon mocked Hoseok's voice, making the other swat at him. Namjoon took a step back to avoid it. “Give me your van, Hoseok.”

“No.”

“Fuck. Fine.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes as Namjoon walked away, turning to apologize to the customers who'd lined up behind his friend. He picked up a cloth, wiping down the counter, and opened his mouth to speak when the customers were suddenly moving away. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, the people looking smaller and smaller in the distance. The van was moving. Someone was driving it away. Fucking Namjoon.

Ten minutes and a busted nose later, Hoseok sat in the passenger side of the van, holding a napkin to his face. Namjoon shot him an apologetic glance, and Hoseok huffed.

“You know if you had just let me use the van this wouldn’t have happened.” Hoseok pouted, actually pouted like a petulant child, and slumped in his seat. “I’m sorry about your nose.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok glanced at him, tossing the bloody napkin down by his feet. “At least we match. Where are we going anyway?”

“Uh.” Namjoon chuckled nervously, not wanting to piss Hoseok off anymore than he already had. He suspected giving his friend a punch to the nose was a bad move. “Well. I was sort of hoping you could tell me?”

Namjoon reached into his jacket, pulling out the paint can and handing it to a very unimpressed and impatient Hoseok. Hoseok rolled it in his hands, looking at the label, before giving Namjoon a bewildered look.

“What am I supposed to do here? Paint arrows to direct you?”

“I need to know where it came from.”

“What am I? Fucking psychic? I’m losing profit here, Namjoon. And a friend if you don’t stop fucking around.”

“That paint can belongs to the murderer.” Namjoon mumbled as they stopped at a red light, he turned a little in his seat. “I think they're a student. I need to know where students from the art school get their shit.”

“And you just assume I know that?” Hoseok sighed heavily, passing the paint can back to Namjoon who slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

“I mean I thought you could help.” Namjoon faced front again, waiting for the light to change. “After all there’s a cash reward for the person who helps find him.”

“How much?” Hoseok was interested suddenly. He'd set up the van tomorrow.

“A half a million won.”

“Take a right here. I know the place.”

The store was small, tucked away in an alley. It made sense, it was right by campus and the prices were sufficiently lower than the larger chain stores nearby. Namjoon approached the counter, pushing Hoseok who seemed set on trying a good cop bad cop routine on this innocent store owner. Not happening. The owner was a stout man, late fifties. Thinning hair and round glasses. Friendly. A welcoming smile.

“Good evening, gentlemen. What can I do you for?”

“We need some information regarding a potential customer of yours.” Namjoon showed the man his badge, earning a curt nod. “We believe he's a student at the art school.”

“I’m sorry, detective. Students make up most of my clientele here.” The old man looked almost sad.

“He uses spray paint. He's a graffiti artist.” The old man opened his mouth again to speak when Namjoon handed him the paint can. “Can you tell us anything?”

The old man frowned a little, looking down at the can. His eyes lit up then, moving the can closer to his face to read the name of the shade on the lid. Namjoon looked at Hoseok, sharing the same hopeful expression. The man knew something.

“There’s only one person who uses this shade, I have to order it in.” The old man explained, grabbing a heavy book from under the counter. He opened it, flipping through the pages. “He has it delivered to his house. I sent the wrong shade once and he came by here. Real eerie kid. Made me nervous.”

“Do you have his name? His address?” The old man shook his head as he flipped through the book, squinting. Finally he stopped, running his finger down the page.

“The delivery boy has the address but he's visiting family back in Busan.” Namjoon's shoulders visually slumped, defeated. “What I do have is his name.”

Hoseok was practically vibrating in his seat as they drove away from the store, excitement brimming inside him. In another life Hoseok would have enjoyed being a detective, Namjoon thought to himself. But he chose the other side to get his kicks. Crime pays more. Namjoon held his phone to his ear as he drove, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. The second Taehyung answered he spoke, ignoring Taehyung's greeting.

“Taehyung, are you at the precinct? I need you to run a name for me.”

“What’s the name?” Namjoon could here the clicking of Taehyung’s mouse faintly.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Okay, hold on.” A clacking of his keyboard and a few moments of Taehyung’s breathing later he came back on the line. “Alright. Jeon Jungkook, twenty one years old. Pulled in on a misdemeanour a few years back. I’m sending his address to you now.”

“Thanks, Tae.” Namjoon beamed, Hoseok giving him a thumbs up. “When this is all over I'll make Seokjin hyung promote you.”

Namjoon ended the call and handed Hoseok his phone, telling him to pull up the address Taehyung had sent him. Hoseok was bouncing in his seat, thrilled with the turn of events, or more thrilled with the prospect of having a half million won in his wallet. Either way Namjoon was grateful for the enthusiasm. He set the GPS in Namjoon's phone and sat back, settling in for the drive.

“So. Taehyung.”

“No, Hoseok.”

“He’s got a nice voice.”

“He’s a nice guy.” Namjoon shit him a glare. “Too nice for you. And you are going to stay away from him.”

“We’ll see.”

The apartment block they pulled up to was empty. Not a single light on in any of the windows, the whole place vacant. Namjoon huffed in his seat, frustrated, pressing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Another dead end. Unsurprising. That was just Namjoon's luck. Hoseok stepped out of the van and backed away from the building, squinting. Namjoon watched him for a moment, quirking an eyebrow when Hoseok turned to him, pointing a finger toward the rooftop.

“There’s a light.”

Getting out of the van, Namjoon took a breath to calm his nerves. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, and the kid could be dangerous. He looked to Hoseok and motioned with his head, making his way toward the steps that led up to the roof. “You stay behind me, alright? Don’t do anything until I give the go ahead.”

The look on Hoseok's face let Namjoon know that Hoseok wasn’t about to try anything, he looked terrified. Probably because he was realizing that he was about to come face to face with a child killer. Namjoon was scared too.

The rooftop was empty, a small brick building standing in the centre of it. There was nobody around, and a quick glance through the window revealed the building was empty, lived in, but empty. Pressing a finger to his lips, Namjoon waved to Hoseok, telling him to stay put as Namjoon dared inside.

The place was a shack. A kitchen come living space with a small bedroom and a tiny bathroom. Someone had been there, or was still there, steam still rising from the kettle on the shitty stove. Namjoon kept low, creeping through the place with his hand on his gun, ready to pull it out if needed. There was nobody inside, but the sound of tins clashing together told Namjoon there was someone outside. Namjoon followed the sound, careful not to let his presence be known. Through a doorway, Namjoon could see him, or at least the back of him, messing with paint cans on a wooden shelf. Namjoon mentally prepared himself, reaching out to pull himself up, and knocked over a glass. Shattering it.

For a beat there was nothing. Namjoon stopped breathing, internally berating himself for being such a clumsy asshole. Footsteps headed toward him, getting closer and closer, and Namjoon made a snap decision. He stood upright and charged, gripping the guy's shirt and shoving him back hard. The guy stumbled back, rubbing his chest where Namjoon had slammed his hands against him, curling in on himself.

It was him, Namjoon told himself. Certain. He couldn’t forget those eyes.

“Remember me?” Namjoon dared a step closer, watching as the kid looked up at him curious. Confused.

“Pu-public urination?” Namjoon had forgotten about that, fighting the flush of embarrassment threatening to rush over his cheeks.

“Detective Kim Namjoon. You are Jeon Jungkook.” Namjoon moved closer still, Jungkook backing up. “And I've got some questions for you.”

Tag list: @yoongi-bearr @triheartedhero @doriadoo @rosybabytae @spookidema

[pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow]

Okay?

Katsumi always asked him that first.

“Okay?” his voice would break the silence

“Okay,” Doyle would respond.

It wasn’t really asking if he was fine, they both knew things were a little too broken for that, they were both a little too broken for that, but ‘okay’ meant ‘is your brain acting alright?’ and it was a good thing that the answer, more often that not, was ‘yeah, it’s a little better than before’.

Katsumi almost always grabbed Doyle’s hand when asking this question, and Doyle would squeeze back to emphasize his answer. It was their little code, simple, but effective, created by two people who had been friends for just a few weeks, but needed to check up on one another quite often.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

Doyle glances over at the calendar, realizing quite how long he has been living with Katsumi, a whole six months passing by already. He loves it, he loves his new life in Japan, the new life with Katsumi, he loves Katsumi. Doyle doesn’t know when it happened, but he feels head-over-heels for the golden boy of karate, and he doesn’t mind. On the other side of the room, Katsumi is watching Doyle make some food out of the corner of his eye and thinking about how amazing his roommate looks when he’s relaxed and at ease. 

They ask each other out two weeks later, and both receive the response they wished for.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

Just because they’re dating doesn’t mean that some things don’t stay the same, and one of them is their code. The other is Doyle’s worrying and Katusmi’s anxiety, both trying to hide their emotions, and both failing.

Doyle knows better than anyone that the past never lets go, it always comes back, and he doesn’t want his past to hurt Katsumi, not his amazing-as-all-heck boyfriend. Katsumi knows about parts of his past, nowhere near most of it, but still more than almost anyone else. He knows just how much of that past was drowned in blood and smoke and weapons and trying to kill and move on. Katusmi also knows that Doyle’s changed, but some of his instincts haven’t. Katsumi discovers the knife hidden in Doyle’s pillow and the gun under the floorboards about a week before their 6-month anniversary. He wants to throw both weapons away, but leaves them as they are, and hopes his boyfriend will get rid of them soon. He doesn’t know that Doyle kept those there both as a defense against the past and so there was a way to ensure that Doyle didn’t have a future.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

That’s their normal code, but Katsumi seems shut off for the day, barely even acknowledging Doyle’s ‘welcome home’ when he comes in after a long day at the dojo. Doyle can tell his boyfriend is still worried about something, but he doesn’t know how to ask, they never were good at this, so he grabs Katsumi’s hand, squeezes, and asks “Okay?”

And Katsumi looks shocked for a few seconds before he squeezes back and a mumbled “Okay,” comes out of his mouth. Both men forget dinner for the time being and simply talk.

They talk about Katsumi’s day, they talk about the things in this week that made them worried, they talk about the stars, the sky, the oceans, and whatever else they can think off until it’s midnight, and both of them sheepishly break off to eat dinner and go to sleep. Katsumi takes a few extra minutes to get to bed, which lets Doyle finally take a breath and put his head and heart at ease again. 

The next morning Katsumi finds the gun snapped in half and thrown into the dumpster, the knife’s blade embedded in the barrel, and knows that Doyle finally got to put another bit of his past behind him.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

They still ask each other of course, but now they don’t have to do it as often out of worry or fear. After living together for two-and-a-half years (and dating for the last two) they know each other quite well, and know how to read the other person.

Doyle knows how Katsumi wrings his hands when he’s stressed versus when he’s frustrated, he knows how Katsumi likes to jog after the rain because of the smell it causes, and he knows that Katsumi loves him, and it’s a lot easier to be in love when the other person returns your feelings.

Katusmi knows how Doyle chooses showers over baths and easy-to-make food over more complex recipes because he’s too used to having to live “for the time being” instead of long term, he knows how Doyle’s favorite way to talk is with actions and not words, and he knows that Doyle loves him, and it’s a lot easier to be in love when you know the other person loves you too.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

Four years have come and gone since they started dating, and life seems to be moving alongs as it wishes to. Katsumi keeps working at the dojo, pushing karate, perfecting his skills, and trying to rise to the top of the world of martial arts. Doyle had gone back to semi-legal work less than year after moving in, but now he works more with negotiations, protecting civilians, reaching out to partners and coworkers of the past and getting them to change as well. And both of them have carved out large spots for each other in their worlds. 

Katsumi had started teaching Doyle karate around the time he moved in, and the four-something years clearly show their results. Doyle had learned and absorbed the knowledge quickly, getting acquainted with martial arts the way he was acquainted with weapons, until both were as natural as breathing. 

Doyle couldn’t teach Katsumi about weapons, he knows his boyfriend wants to keep his honor and weapons would sully it, so he goes the other route. Katsumi learns languages from around the world, he learns the ins and outs of governments, and he starts understanding just how much of the world his boyfriends has seen, as well as how it’s molded him and his choices.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

Both of them are frozen, the apartment’s silence-filled air clearly different from the laughter that had plagued it just a few seconds ago.

“What?” Doyle asks, unsure of whether or not he just heard right. He couldn’t have, could he?

“I said ‘I’d like that’,” comes the calm reply from the brightly blushing Katsumi sitting across from him.

So now he knows. Doyle gets up, walks up to the place where the ceiling has a loose board which makes a hidey hole, and pulls a small box out of it. The ring is taken out, and Doyle throws it to Katsumi, who catches it and looks at it take in the details. 

The ring itself appears to be fairly simple, just a silver band with random black line constantly criss-crossing and intersecting randomly in places. But Katsumi knows his boyfriend (fiancé? could he call him his fiancé now?) too well, so he looks again, this time on the inside of the band. The random mishmash of lines outside paint a beautiful painting on the inside, two small stick figures leaning against each other, taking in the beautiful scene etched into the ring’s inside. 

Katsumi takes all of this in, and feels the sudden surge of love rising in him. Love for Doyle and his stupid way of knowing exactly what Katusmi likes, his dumb attention to detail and his dumber way of always trying to get Katsumi something he’d love, be it some nice chocolate from Sweden or a sweet wine found only in France, or now, this beautiful ring.

“So,” Doyle breaks the silence again, shifting almost unnoticeably, “now that I can ask like a normal person and not just by blurting out ‘I wanna marry you’, Katsumi, will you marry me?”

Katsumi’s still partially speechless, both from the ring and the fact that he was just proposed to. So he isn’t fully thinking when his mouth opens and he blurts out, “Fuck yes,” before he realizes what he just said and stats trying to say it the proper way before Doyle bursts into laughter and Katsumi gives up, joining him in laughing until his stomach hurts.

-----

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

-----

They almost never ask each other anymore, now one just squeezes his husband’s hand, and the other squeezes back.

Doyle walks home after a two-month long absence, exhausted and wanting to see Katsumi, or more specifically, the surprise on his face when he realizes his husband is home two weeks earlier than either one of them thought, and with a present to boot.

“Hey, babe,” rings through the apartment, and startles Katsumi so much that he drops the ladle he was stirring the soup with, only just managing to catch it with his foot before it hits the ground. Katsumi looks over to the door where he sees the familiar red hair, those familiar eyes looking at him like he hung the moon, and common sense has left the building as Katsumi practically tackles his husband into the door.

“Whoa, careful,” Doyle laughs, “I have a present for you, ya know, i don’t want it to get ruined.” But he doesn’t move to push Katsumi away, just pulls him in closer, and they stay in that ‘leaning on the door and hoping it doesn’t break while we’re hugging’ pose until the timer goes off and Katsumi realizes the soups is done. He stops hugging Doyle long enough to get two bowls of the soup for the both of them, and by that point Doyle’s already sitting down, still looking at him like he’s perfection.

“Happy ‘we’ve been married for two years and no one died’ anniversary,” Katsumi blurts out, and then sits down next to Doyle, subconsciously reaching for his hand. Doyle immediately takes both the hint and the hand, squeezing back on instinct before they start talking, chatting about the anything and everything.

That night, as they go to sleep, Katsumi takes Doyle’s hand in both of his and squeezes.

“Okay?”

A squeeze back, and warmth though his chest.

“Okay.”

A pause, and then Doyle squeezes again, a little harder this time.

“Okay?”

Final squeeze before Katsumi lets go and lets himself drift off to sleep.

“Okay.”

---

End

[kushamisaru]

all the class 1-a boys for the "send me a character and i’ll list" one ;B

I fear you are going to be very disappointed with this list since I don’t have super strong feelings on a lot of these boys but I will do my best! I’ll be going by seating chart order:

Aoyama:

favorite thing about them- Being an extra person myself, I appreciate a character who also very extra. I’ll admit I found him kind of annoying at first but on this second rewatch he’s grown on me.

least favorite thing about them- I don’t have anything I dislike about him. I guess I think he could have a better quirk?

favorite line- “You like him, don’t you?”

brOTP- Uh idk? Who does he really hang out with?

OTP- himself

nOTP- Any of the adults I guess? (this goes for all of these kids but I’m gonna say it here and only here)

random headcanon- He practices smooth heroic one liners and poses in the mirror. Sometimes he accidently activates his quirk too and temporarily blinds himself.

unpopular opinion- If people overall tend to like him, I guess my unpopular opinion would be that I didn’t originally?

song i associate with them- Diamonds by Rhianna (but only the chorus. It’s on repeat in his head all the time)

Iida

favorite thing about them- He’s got a good heart and he tries his best!

least favorite thing about them- Nothing now, but in the past he was quick to act based on his emotions :/ Glad he seems to have learned from that.

favorite line

brOTP- Him and his brother, him and Midoriya, him and Uraraka

OTP- Idk if it has a ship name (rarepair is hell) but IidaxMomo

nOTP- Iida and his brother, I guess?

random headcanon- Is the kid that complains that they’re totally gonna fail (insert test here) and passes with an A+ every. single. time.

unpopular opinion- Probably my otp for him. They just have a lot in common and I think they’d be cute together!

song i associate with them -  The distance by Cake

Ojiro

favorite thing about them- He’s a very honourable guy, he works hard and doesn’t take what he thinks he doesn’t deserve. ALSO APPARENTLY HIS TAIL WAGS WHEN HE’S HAPPY OR EXCITED WHICH IS SUPER CUTE

least favorite thing about them- The fact that I had to look this character up to get a summary of his personality because I wouldn’t know shit about him besides his looks otherwise

favorite line- … I got nothing…

brOTP-  just on looks and personality alone probably Rikido?

OTP- I mean, I’ve seen art of him and Toru that’s pretty cute but I feel like people started shipping them when she stripped in front of him or w/e and she was like “Don’t look at me!” which is :///// I just think their personalities would be interesting together, him being a humble guy and her wanting to stand in the spotlight

nOTP- I don’t know this character well enough to have an opinion on this.

random headcanon- see above

unpopular opinion- do people have strong opinions on this character? I would need to know what they think

song i associate with them - talespin theme song

Denki

favorite thing about them- The fact that he’s the best boy

least favorite thing about them- He can be kind of gross and he hangs out a lot with the worst boy :/ but at least he’s like. A normal teenage boy amount of gross instead of that being his only character trait.

favorite line- that noise he makes when he short circuts

brOTP- Anybody really.

OTP- Don’t have anyone I super hard ship him with? I guess him and Jirou is a little cute but I don’t really ship it.

nOTP- none

random headcanon- Pichu main

unpopular opinion- I have one but it’s about events the toonami crew hasn’t reached yet so I can’t discuss it

song i associate with them- Electric Boogie by Marcia Griffiths

Kirishima

favorite thing about them- He’s so friendly! He literally wants to make friends with everyone!

least favorite thing about them- I guess a fandom interpretation? I don’t dislike anything about him as a character

favorite line-

brOTP- Him and everyone in the class (This time reluctantly including M*neta because unfortunately Kirishima is just that magnetic)

OTP- Kiribaku, I suppose. I also think KiriMina is cute but that’s at least partially because those are my boyfriend and my favorite students respectively.

nOTP- none

random headcanon- Would probably be a skater kid if this was a 90′s cartoon

unpopular opinion- I feel like Kirishima is a lot more layered than your average fandom headcanon gives him credit for. Like yeah, my favorite thing about him is that he’s a sweetheart, but he’s not JUST a sweetheart. He’s a rough and tumble kind of guy. He’s insecure, but working on becoming more confident. He’s a stand up guy, but not totally above mischief. He’s just a really interesting character and oh my god is he becoming my new fave boy? What the fuck is happening?

song i associate with them- Gotta Fly Now (theme from Rocky)

Koji

favorite thing about them- A SWEETHEART! GENTLE GIANT!

least favorite thing about them- This is gonna sound so mean but… his face…

favorite line- I don’t remember the exact words but when he conquered his fear of the bugs to pass that exam… that was good.

brOTP- I guess Jirou?

OTP- None

nOTP- None

random headcanon- Dinosaurs are his favorite

unpopular opinion- What are the general opinions on this guy in the first place? Idk.

song i associate with them- You know that scene in Shrek where Fiona sings that duet with that bird and the bird explodes. That. Not the actual song, just that rendition of it, in that scene.

Sato

favorite thing about them- idk why but his quirk strikes me as funny

least favorite thing about them- not a fan of his costume. it’s not the worst costume though… I guess

favorite line- just him explaining his quirk

brOTP- nobody right now but I feel like if someone came along with an eating related quirk, or was just a big eater, they’d get along well

OTP- see above

nOTP- none

random headcanon- so canonically he’s a good baker, especially with deserts, but I bet he sucks at cooking.

unpopular opinion- don’t really have one

song i associate with them- cooking by the book (from lazytown)

Shoji

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them- TOL

least favorite thing about them- I’m not a fan of his whole design. It makes me… uncomfortable.

favorite line- not sure

brOTP- I guess just based on personality, Tokoyami? Not sure how much they interact though

OTP- none

nOTP- none

random headcanon- would never lose his earpods but would also never own them

unpopular opinion- idk

song i associate with them- handyman by awolnation

Sero

favorite thing about them- If I’m being perfectly honest, the only reason I like this character as much as I do is because of a mob psycho crossover fic where he and Mob effectively replace M*neta (Mob literally by like taking his spot at UA, and Sero through their similarish quirks). Don’t know much about his canon character traits but if he’s anything like in that story he’s cool by me

least favorite thing about them- that he could replace the bad one mentioned above but does not.

favorite line- none

brOTP- none

OTP- none

nOTP- none

random headcanon- will try to tape anything he can together and call it fixed.

unpopular opinion- I don’t know a lot about how this character is viewed so I couldn’t say

song i associate with them- Tape Song by The Kills

Tokoyami

favorite thing about them- he’s just REALLY funny like he tries to be dark and mysterious but he’s just… not. it’s great.

least favorite thing about them- not something I hate or even dislike so much as something I’m dying to know: what’s up with the head? apparently that’s not part of his quirk so??? what’s going on there???

favorite line- most things that come out of his mouth are gold

brOTP- Tsuyu

OTP- Also Tsuyu! I like them a lot as bffs and bf/gf!

nOTP- none that I can think of.

random headcanon- Meta Knight main

unpopular opinion- I don’t think I have one? I think most people like this character and agree with what I said so…

song i associate with them- Linkin Park’s entire discography.

Todoroki

favorite thing about them- I guess you could say he’s… a pretty cool guy ;^)

least favorite thing about them- HIS HERO NAME IS SO DUMB. SO DUMB. I GET MAD EVERYTIME I THINK ABOUT IT. WHY IS BAKUGOU’S DUMB NICKNAME FOR HIM SO MUCH BETTER. I’M MAD.

favorite line- Not a line, but I liked when he finally used his fire power, reclaiming it from his asshole dad.

brOTP- Him and Momo I guess. Also him and Midoriya.

OTP- If I MUST choose, I guess Tododeku.

nOTP- Notp sounds so harsh but honestly? I don’t ship him with anyone. so kind of sort of everyone applies.

random headcanon- I saw a comic someone made suggesting he likes to do goofy things when only one person is watching because no one will ever believe it happened. I like that.

unpopular opinion- I don’t really like either of Todoroki’s most popular ships. I have a hard time imagining a reason outside of school Momo and Todoroki would ever hang out, and even then I can’t see anything growing there beyond friendship. As for Midoriya and Todoroki… I can see why people ship it I guess, but as someone who came into the fandom knowing that was a fairly popular ship the moment that launched it didn’t even phase me, at least not in that way. It wasn’t until my second watching that I realized that was probably what started the ship and I feel like not a whooole lot has happened between them since? At least not to my knowledge. Todoroki, in my opinion, isn’t close enough to ANYONE yet for romance to be a viable option.

song i associate with them Hot n’ Cold by Katy Perry

Bakugou

favorite thing about them- when he gets bullied

least favorite thing about them- literally told someone to kill themselves

favorite line- DEKUUUU! DID YOU JUST BLINK YOUR EYELIDS?! YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT!!

brOTP- I kind of like the concept of the Bakusquad.

OTP- KiriBaku (though I’m fine with Bakugou just being alone too)

nOTP- BkDk

random headcanon- Dark Pit Main

unpopular opinion- Bakugou is not the worst student and I don’t hate him.

song i associate with them- Boom by Black Eyed Peas

Midoriya

favorite thing about them- A sweet boy! Works his ass off all the time!

least favorite thing about them- His heart is in the right place, but he can be very reckless with his own safety.

favorite line- I’m the Deku that always does his best!

brOTP- Iida, Todoroki (ig)

OTP- IzuOcha!

nOTP- BkDk

random headcanon- Since you wanna be cute and shit this one is just for you: Someone once tricked Midoriya into thinking he ate a pot brownie and he cried for an hour (”What will mom think?! What will All Might think?!”)

unpopular opinion- I’ve seen some people say they don’t like Midoriya as a main character because like… his character is boring? Don’t agree with that. Not sure how popular that opinion is though.

song i associate with them- Zero to Hero from Hercules

Ugh… Mineta

favorite thing about them- Nothing.

least favorite thing about them- The fact that he’s still alive

favorite line- none

brOTP- none

OTP- none

nOTP- none

random headcanon- I try not think about Mineta more than absolutely necessary (meaning he’s either in front of me or being discussed) so none.

unpopular opinion- Mineta is infinitely to the infinite power times worse than Bakugou is and/or will ever be, and unlike Bakugou, does not deserve the character development he’s apparently getting. Since Horikoshi is too much of a perv and a coward to literally kill him, the next best thing would be to let him die metaphorically of irrelevance. But I know he won’t do that either.

song i associate with them- none