#the brown I used has a warmer tone and makes her look lighter

[museganjin]

i saw the tag "lunette kinda looks like stewie from family guy here. sorry" on this post and took it as a challenge

@starrysharks

[yourlocalpurplekinnie]

My opinions on the Barian Emperors’ designs :3!!!

Nasch — “hehe silly hair, a lot of these big crystals in the same kind of area, the red cape makes him look cooler + brings a colour other than purple that works in abundance, gotta have a cape *^0^*, I love his whole face (look how angry he looks here LMAO), turtle neck :0, plain fr </3 (the trousers, leggings things??), supposed to be an accent colour but it feels too much to be a proper accent, just like his normal shoes :3”

Marin — “she’s so cool <3, the colours go so cool together as well?? - the lighter colours for her body/dress thing contrasting the darker hair??? Just wowie :00, these shoulder plates look cool?? Yippee!!, I love the longer hair they give her, her dress/skirt design is just WOAH!!, the diamond theme again fr (more subtle + nicer than Nasch’s design tbh /nm), HEELS?? /pos)”

Vector — “Gonna be honest I thought more of the frets would be warm tones but turns out they are colder when I colour picked them, I like this multi-coloured skin he has going on, and how the diamonds run along the divide, goddamn I didn’t notice the diamond theme until I did this tbh like Woah :0, not too fond of this yknow? (The yellow thing on his chest) should have added more yellow around (feels like you need to look there instead of where you would usually wanna look (the face)), I love the colour palette for Vector. Like mostly greys/blacks with an accent of the reds in terms of mostly diamonds, I can’t decide whether I like or dislike the wings tbh </3 (I’m leaning more to like), could scratch out someone’s eye with those nails, just as he would want it to be like :3, hehhe Idk I just like his shoes :3, + I love his face ^0^, (btw if Vector has no Fans I’m dead)”

Alito — “sorry I’m not too fond of his design </3, I feel like this would be slightly better (the mask thingy) with that reddish-brown colour but idk??, gotta have the diamonds, this colour (the green one) is a nice contrast to the warmer tones used, this darker colour makes the design better, his shoes are nice though (PROBBALY my favourite thing about his design), maybe using this red more could have been better?? (Just relegated to his hair), these are cool (the arm thingys)”

Girag — “ooooo face shrouded in darkness, silly!! (Horns), silly little Mohawk :3 - random use of that colour though - one off can look good/fit with the design but doesn’t feel like it does here, idk how to feel about this collar </3, his design does not feel derailed enough tbh - especially compared to the better designs imo (Vector + Marin), Woah more diamonds! Who would have guessed!!, how could have I never noticed this before??? (The G on the belt) THIS IS SO STUPIDD /Pos”

Mizar — “The mask is very unique + translates in a fun way to his human design as well, love them being the 2nd tallest fr <3, love it (the face), I’m sorry but his shoulders + his torso?? I just- it basically ruins his design for me /nm (not entirely true but yknow), Just feels REALLY yellow at the torso, good choice to not make his arms too much of one colour (the bandages (same goes with his legs)), I don’t like this belt </3, I love this little additional for the clothes because even though they are aliens it feels weird for them to be completely naked, mandatory crystals fr, don’t know what’s going on here but lacks the nice patterns that Marin had </3”

Dumon — “I’m sorry but I really don’t like Dumon’s design-, hair + face colour mostly blends together like hardly different, these are cute :3 makes me think of a cat, mandatory diamonds fr, the facial markings look cool :3, I’m sorry but this belt is NOT it, shoulder plates look cool, mostly the other barians are wearing SOMETHING but not him”

-

Quick ranking:

7. Dumon - sorry but his design just doesn’t look nice to me. I’m not too attached to his character either so that doesn’t help. He does look WILDLY better in his human form though

6. Girag - orginally gonna put Alito in this place but Girag is much more plain imo like go girl give us nothing!!! /nm (they did do him so dirty in both his forms though </3)

5. Alito - sorry Alito but your design is not much better. Like I like your boots and that reddish-brown colour but idk I’m just not too fond of it (prefer his human design). It is growing on me but I still dislike it </3

4/3. Mizar/Nasch - I couldn’t decide who to put above the other so they are tying. I love their faces like they both look AMAZING looking at just that part of their designs but I feel like as you look further down it’s like “uhmmm-“

2. Vector - I love Vector so much so it’s not surprising that I’m gonna also be fond of his design too. Like when I first starting rewatching Zexal I forgot most stuff so when this silly little guy appeared on my screen I started to LOVE him (and now he’s one of my favourite Yugioh characters) and it 100% helps that I love his design fr

1. Marin - MY GOD DID THEY DO HER SO WELL??? Like just look at her design and try TRY to tell me that she doesn’t look wonderful?? YOU CANT!!! Like she looks just so amazing. It just makes me wish that she had more focus because her design is making me see her in a brighter light than what they gave to here tbh. Like the backstory for her + Nasch is MAINLY focused on Nasch I get how he’s important and everything but I would like to see more of her </3 (the episode of her as Rio showing how cool she is beating all those people who just want her to manage their teams cause she’s pretty is just SO COOL!!)

-

I do love all these characters though (some more than others LMAO) and not trying to insult the character design at all just wanted to look at these designs and point out what I liked and didn’t <3333

(Also I felt like i had to write out all what I put on the actual images CAUSE MY HANDWRITING IS BASICALLY UNREADABLE TO 90% OF PEOPLE </3)

[bananahkim]

how do you shade clothes and skin

Shading(in general):

First I decide where the light source is in the drawing. This is important because it decides where you’re going to add shadows to whatever you’re drawing.

Then I shade. This depends on your art style but sometimes I use a soft brush or Gaussian blur on shadows that are far away from the light source. I usually use a multiply layer.

I add a darker, desaturated color to the shadow layer in places where light doesn’t reach at all. This is optional and you don’t have to do this depending on the lighting.

I also add a new layer and paint the reflected light on top of the shadow. Reflected light is on the opposite of the light source and is dim and desaturated. It is also lighter than the shadow area and darker than the light area.

Where the light source is Where the light reaches Where the light doesn’t reach(shadows)

Shading clothes:

It’s necessary to know what kind of clothes you’re going to shade, because how you shade clothes is going to be directly affected by the material of that cloth. Is it a shiny ball gown? Or maybe it’s a soft wool sweater. The shape of the folds, the complexity of the shadow, and the amount the cloth reflects light all depend on the texture and thickness of the clothes.

Shadows on clothes usually form where the clothes fold, like the armpits and joint areas.

Shading skin:

Skin is different from most materials/objects. Skin has many layers and is kind of translucent. So where light hits skin it reflects some of the light but also absorbs the rest of it, resulting in showing the red(from blood and raw flesh under the skin)(I know this sounds gorey but it’s not, just try placing your hand directly under a desk lamp and you’ll get what I mean). This is called subsurface scattering. Adding subsurface scattering makes the skin look more natural. Subsurface scattering might not be seen in darker skin, darker skin reflects light rather than absorbing it. Lighter skin looks rosy and almost translucent while darker skin looks shiny in bright light.

Tldr; skin both reflects and absorbs light, and it has many layers, so you need to shade skin in a different way from how you shade in special cases. This is also optional and whether you should add subsurface scattering depends on your preferred art style.

When there’s a bright light source I shade the skin in a new layer, alpha lock that layer, and paint the edges of the shadows with a light pink color.

Process + Speedpaint video

Flat color

Shading

Adding subsurface scattering: I focus on the face and neck when adding it because these parts blush easily than other body parts. Isabela has brown skin so subsurface scattering isn’t seen clearly.

Adding reflected light: Usually I only add reflected light on the object if the object reflects light easily(A soft blanket would absorb light rather than reflect it, so I wouldn’t add reflected light on it if I’m drawing blankets). Isabela’s skin, hair, and dress are shiny so I added reflected light all to them.

Light: the color of light and shadow should be opposites unless you want unusual experimental coloring. Again, this depends on your art style. I decided that the light will be warm yellow and shaded Isa with a desaturated purple-ish blue color.

Adding blush & palm color: Isabela’s skin tone is either a neutral or cool brown so I added a multiply layer on top of the flat color layer and painted her blush with a desaturated light pink color(I add peach pink or light orange blush to characters with warmer tones). About the palm color, I always lighten brown characters’s palms because they’re actually lighter than the rest of the skin in reality. Some people don’t do this because they have simple art styles, but I just like doing it.

Painting flowers in Isa’s dress + “rendering”: i didn’t want to draw all the flowers so I just used a flower brush in procreate and painted it on top of it. Also I don’t know why people call this step “rendering”, it’s basically adding a new layer on top of all the other layers and fixing unsatisfied parts of your art, adding small details and vibrant colors, etc. so it looks more polished.

Adding flowers in background.

Speedpaint under cut

[ofskysanddragonsandstars]

Shili head canons

While I enjoyed TOTJ, making Shili as a green wooded forest frustrates me. there were so many missed opportunities. Come on, Filoni, togruta are colorful and apex predators, why wouldn’t they blend in with their environment? So excuse my ramblings while I write out my ideas. 

Environment:

Keeping with the forest theme (because I do like that), the grass is actual turu grass from Legends (or fanon, whichever). So instead of green, it is colorful with red, orange, pale green and more. It matches the skin tones of the togruta, which is how they hunt because they blend in with the environment. It’s evolutionary camo! If the turu grass gets tall enough, the top will turn into blue, grey, purple - to match the white and color change of the lekku. 

Now the trees can be tall too. I actually like this idea. With how nimble Ahsoka is, you bet togruta climb trees all the time. Now, since TOTJ has the trees as evergreens (or at least look like them), I’m assuming there are lots of branches, furthering my idea of togruta as tree climbers. Again, keeping with a colorful environment, the leaves are not green, and instead are orange or red. The bark can still be brown though (not quite sure what I would call the evergreens though - evercolors?) 

Okay, so Earth has regional climates and Obi-Wan confirmed oher plants are the same way (”and this is the planet’s tropical zone” - the snarkiness of this man). Since we saw Pav-ti and other togruta in layered clothing, I’m also assuming Ahsoka’s hometown is located in a colder climate. There are changing seasons, but it does not get hot (say average summertime heat is 75-80 degrees fahrenheit). Which would be the reason Ahsoka wears revealing clothing. TPM has Anakin admit to space being cold, but if Ahsoka’s biology is naturally inclined to colder climates, the cold space wouldn’t bother her. And we see in episode A Friend in Need, Ahsoka does not shiver on Carlac (okay, it could be argued about it was adrenalin, but she had no problem taking her parka off before the fight). In warmer climates, togruta wear similar clothes we see Ahsoka wear in the earlier seasons (tube tops, strapless, open back, sleeveless, etc), which is why Ahsoka does not adopt Jedi Robes, because it is too warm. Using this logic for Shaak Ti, it would mean Shaak Ti is from warmer regions from Shili, which is why she wears Jedi robes, but in the video game The Force Unleashed, on Felucia Shaak Ti wears revealing clothing as well (yes, it obviously catered to horny video game players, but this is my fix-it, so idc). 

Okay, let’s talk about the warmer climates. It would almost be an antithesis. The turu grass is the only thing that remains the same. The trees would be shorter and not evergreens (evercolors? I need a name). Instead, I picture the warmest climates being swamp-like with vines. Depending on location to bodies of water, some locations would be a bayou. The vines and shorter limbs change the tree climbing style used. 

Skin tone/colors: 

During the Zygerria arc and TOTJ, we see many different colored togruta. So my follows human melani. The more exposure to sunlight, the darker the skin tone is. This explains how both Ahsoka and Shaak Ti have similar skin tones but Ahsoka is lighter due to her heritage in a colder climate. As for skin colors, that’s evolutionary camo! (no one can sway me from evolutionary camo) 

Akul: 

Anyone else disappointed in the beast that snatched baby ‘Soka? Come on, the teeth were different! Yeah, so I’m not considering that an akul. Obviously if togruta are predators, they are has to be more than one dangerous creator. So for now, I’m calling it a Shili tiger (if Filoni can label wolves as a Loth Wolf, then I can do the same). So this Shili tiger is big and dangerous. Pav-ti was on high alert and it caused chaos for the village. Those people were ready to go after that tiger. That means akuls are even more dangerous, highlighting the skills Ahsoka and Shaak Ti have to take down an akul. So, my idea is that akuls also hunt alone, like the Shili tiger did in TOTJ. But I also want to use Pav-ti’s words about how everything lives and dies (balance of the force, anyone?) So, hunting to simply kill an animal is taboo. There has to be legitimate reason to kill an animal (hunt for food - kybuck, or to get Ahsoka back from the Shili tiger). So, that means when Ahsoka and Shaak Ti killed an akul, it was in self-defense or to protect others. And to make the teeth into a headband? That is a deterrent for akuls to hunt them when they are outside the village. I like to think that akuls are the most dangerous animal on shili not only due to strength or stealth, but also because of its knowledge of togruta. Perhaps togruta are its favorite meal. This could lead to religious aspects of togruta culture (that’s something I’ll come back too later)

Physiology of the akul: large, triangular golden teeth seen on the headbands, scale-like body rather than fur (makes it harder to cut), and really good night vision eyes. (More ideas can be added here but i’m not a zoologist - any takers?)

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk about a fictional world. I have many more ideas that I want to flesh out but these were the most prominent. I really want to explore possibilities for Shili culture - like why do they have a colony on Kiros, what religion they have, marriage and family dynamics, matriarchal society, rites of passages, other traditions that Pav-ti follows and why they are “old ways”, egalitarianism, the jobs relating to hunting and art clashing on fundamentals of peace vs hunting, and the social hierarchy 

[neontokyoo]

Your Tav is really pretty! Could you possibly post a creation tutorial please? I think she’s adorable! Thank you!

Also, congratulations on the twins! I wish you much love and hope everything goes well! ❤️

Unfortunately I have no screenshots from my own game at the moment because it’s a little bit crazy right now but I can do my best. (Meaning I can steal screenshots from other games too show you what I used to make my tav lol)

0 with the sliders is all the way to the left

This is totally optional depending on the type of story you’re looking for, but I would start by giving her the Dark Urge Origin if you’re planning on doing an evil run.

Her race is a Half-Elf (High-Elf), so that would work best, but I believe Human and High Elf would give you a similar result.

For the basics:

Body type: 1

Identity: Female

Voice: 2

I don’t remember what skin tone I used for her, but any of the warmer, lighter skin tones would probably work. I would try Pallid Tone 1 or any colors similar to that.

Face: 1

Scars are optional, and won’t really affect anything, but I personally would give her a scar over one of her cheeks, or one across her nose. This is completely up to you though, you can do anything you want.

Maturity is 0 (all the way to the left). But that’s also optional. If you’d like her to be a grandma, by all means, go ahead.

I like to give her lots of freckles and then fade it just a little bit so they’re not so noticeable. Just enough to make it look natural but that’s preference. So I’d leave the quantity how it is in the photo, but I’d lower the intensity to somewhere in the blue circle I drew.

Vitiligo is 0

For body art, I like to give her the ancient runes if you’d like to play with the original tav that I made for my main run before I changed her for my evil run. If you’d like the evil version, then you can ignore the runes.

The runes are in body art. They’re in the second column, and sixth row

The color of the runes tattoo is white, and the intensity is not very high. It should be noticeable, but not too noticeable, and not too bright, so take the intensity down just a little bit and find that perfect In between.

I didn’t give her any piercings because I didn’t really like any of them, but they’re totally optional, so feel free to add them if you’d like to.

She doesn’t have heterochromia, so you can leave that alone.

Her eye color is Elf Gold 3

If you’re going for the og look, use makeup 3 for her eye makeup. I didn’t mess with this one at all except for maybe bringing the intensity down slightly.

If you’re going for her newer/evil/durge look, use makeup 7 for eye makeup. This one I don’t think I messed with at all, so once you have just leave it alone unless you’d like to change the intensity. Just make sure the color is black.

I don’t remember names at all, but the lip color is one of the colors circled in blue. I would try the first one.

Intensity is somewhere between 50 and 75

Gloss is about 50. I’d try between 50 and 65.

Metallic tint level is between 25 and 50.

These are all preferences though so adjust it to your liking. Both of my tavs looks have the same lips so it doesn’t matter if you’re making the og or the newer version. They’re the exact same person with different hair and makeup lol

For hair, if you want my original tav, she has the twin braid pigtails near the very bottom of the list.

If you want the newer look for my tav, I would just put her hair down. I’m not actually sure what the name of the hair I used is, but I would go with Rover’s Tumble or something similar to that. Really just explore hairstyles until you find the right one (or one that you like).

For hair color, I don’t remember anything at all. But I used different shades of browns and kind of blended them in a little bit to kind of give her that blonde highlight look. The hair color is the exact same for both versions, you could just see the blonde look better with the original look. I didn’t use any blondes though. Only different shades of brown and it somehow made that blonde highlights look.

really, just experiment with different types of browns until you come up with something similar, or something you like.

And she has no facial hair, so feel free to ignore that.

Optional things to add if you really want to copy Aurelia:

Class: Sorcerer

Subclass: I use storm sorcery and draconic bloodline the most. Those two are pretty badass and I like those a lot. Wild magic really isn’t that good, imo, but if you like it go ahead. Specifically for Aurelia, however, I always use Storm Sorcery.

For cantrips I use: Fire Bolt, Ray of Frost, Bone Chill, and Shocking Grasp

For spells I use: Magic Missile, and Chromatic Orb

Her background is a Noble

the abilities are up to you. I don’t really think I changed them a lot.

The origins, classes, and backgrounds are totally optional, and won’t affect the character at all. So if you only want the looks, feel free to do whatever you want with the characters information. I hope this helped!

[berrynarrybanana]

Holiday Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, but I got carried away. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but I wanted to post some Christmassy stuff in between now and Deck the Halls, so here’s a little something. It’s basically over a thousand words of Harry pining for some girl he just met. That seems to be my favorite trope, yeah? Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I hope that you all remember that Christmas isn’t about what you have or what you’re able to give, it’s about spending time with the people you love the most. I’m always here for you all if you need me and I love you loads. Thank you! 

Word Count: 5.1K+

Warnings: A little smut, pining, flash forward, ofc

Prompt: “You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not” | Taken from this post here! 

It wasn’t that Harry hated Christmas. 

He loved spending time with his family, drinking mulled wine and talking shit with his Mum and Sister on the couch until the morning light. He loved the Christmas cookies that everyone seemed to bake just for him. Every single one of his friends would wrap them up in cute, candy cane striped cellophane bags with a little bow as if they were worried he’d been deprived of sweets. He loved the warmth that enveloped him when he stepped into any building, dodging the cold winter winds and brutal snowflakes that hit his skin. He loved most things about the season, but he truthfully hated the actual holiday itself.

He hated the music, each song covered by about twenty different artists, (yet, they always sounded the same, somehow), playing on a loop on every single Christmas station. He hated how rude people were in the shops and on the road, as if their time was more important than anyone else's. He hated the stigma around giving expensive gifts, stressing over the perfect thing to get each of his friends. If he could, he’d give them all something homemade, but he was shit at doing anything crafty. 

His boots crunched against the snow as he walked towards his mother’s front door. 

He let himself in, kicking his shoes off before he removed his scarf and his winter coat. He could hear laughter from the kitchen, Gemma and his Mum giggling far too loud. They must have cracked into the mulled cider a little early, and truthfully, he was jealous. He’d spent the last four hours stuck in traffic listening to white Christmas over and over and over again. He shut the front door as Evie wrapped herself around his legs, her soft purring catching his attention as he glanced down at the black and white kitten. 

“Hiya, darling girl.” He crouched down, scooping her into his arms before he delivered a series of kisses over her head. “Daddy’s missed you, eh. Have you been good for your nan?”

She meowed in response, causing Harry to coo at her before he scratched under her chin. 

“That’s my girl.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head before setting her back to the ground. 

He knew they would indulge in several cuddle sessions over the next few days, so he wasn’t worried about missing his one and only pet this holiday season. He walked through the house, finding his way into the kitchen where Gemma was tipping back a glass of dark red liquid, and his Mum was rolling out cookie dough with a bright smile on her face. What Harry wasn’t expecting, was the curly haired girl with a cookie cutter in her hand next to his Mum.

“Hello!” He called out, offering a smile as he walked over to the kitchen island. “I see we’ve started having fun already.”

“It took you forever to get here!” Gemma said defensively, picking up a chocolate kiss before tossing it at Harry. “Do you want a drink?”

“Something hot, it’s like the bloody tundra outside.” He shivered at the thought of the harsh wind, his eyes trailing back towards the new girl. 

“Stella makes the best peppermint hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your life.” Gemma groaned out, her eyes rolling back in her head. “She puts peppermint vodka in there.”

“I can make you one if you’d like?” Stella’s voice was soft and painfully american. “We’ve got a slow cooker full of hot chocolate.”

“If you don’t mind.” Harry gave her a smile as he pulled out a stool, sitting next to Gemma. “Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“She knows who you are.” Gemma reached over, pinching Harry’s side. “Stella is a new transfer at work. She’s new to England, and we thought we’d show her a proper English Christmas.”

“Stella, love, you should probably find another family to spend Christmas with if you want a proper English Christmas.” Harry snorted. “Ours is half arsed at best.”

“We have a lovely Christmas, thank you.” Anne piped up, flicking flour in Harry’s direction as Stella laughed softly. “Don’t scare the poor thing off, we’ve just made her feel at home.” 

Stella turned her back, walking towards the stove.

“I suppose we do have a good time.” Harry hummed out. “I can’t wait to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the millionth time.” 

“They’ve got an animated one now!” Gemma exclaimed. “We’re going to do a double feature.”

“Lovely.” Harry rolled his eyes. 

Moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate laced was placed in front of Harry. 

He looked down at the grinch mug before looking back up at Stella. 

“Thanks.” He offered her a smile, but she merely nodded back at him before taking her place next to Anne again. 

He watched her, sipping at his drink as Gemma and Anne chatted about some Hallmark movie that was meant to premiere at some point during the week. She wasn’t normally the type of girl that he dated, but he had to admit that she was beautiful. Her cheeks were round, a soft blush smeared over them that he assumed came from a makeup product. Her lashes were thick, and long, shadowing her hazel colored eyes. She had thick brows that seemed a little unruly, and plump lips stained with a plum colored lipstick that matched her smoky, purple eyeshadow. He wasn’t a huge fan of the plum color, but he had to admit that it brought out a lot of the warmer tones in her eyes and in her beautiful, brown skin. He also thought that it complimented the lighter strands in her curly brown hair that bounced about everytime she turned her head. 

He tried not to be too obvious with his curious gaze, but he couldn’t help it. He was almost mesmerized by her beauty, but he was more so confused by his attraction to her. She was far too quiet for his taste, her eyes cast down on the cookies she’d been cutting out for the last few minutes while everyone else chatted. 

He watched her place them on the tray carefully, obsessing over how they landed before she reached for the colored icing. He watched her pipe onto the little shapes, her tongue nestling in the corner of her mouth as her unsteady hands worked diligently on the cookies. 

This was a Styles family Christmas, and the Styles were a rowdy and messy bunch. He’d never seen his Mum or Gemma put that much work into sugar cookies before, and it was almost painful to watch her perfect each and every one before she slipped the tray in the oven. He watched her reach for the cheeky little chicken shaped oven timer that Gemma bought when his Mum fist moved into this house. In all of those years, he’d never seen anyone actually use it. 

“Did you hear me, my little turtle dove?” Anne brushed her hand over Harry’s back as he sipped at his cocoa. “They’re calling for a huge storm this weekend, are you packed for that?”

“I left some stuff here the last time I was around.” He turned his head, smiling back at her. “I think I should be fine if I get stuck with you lot.” 

“Good.” She nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Missed you too, Mumma.” He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her into a hug. 

The warm scent of vanilla and musk greeted his senses, flooding him with comfort and nostalgic memories of cuddling with Mum on the couch. He missed having her around him. He missed having his best friend around to comfort him when he needed it the most. When he let go of her, his heart sank a little in his chest. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before moving back to work on more cookie dough. 

“Why are you making so many cookies?” He asked, brows furrowing as he brushed his fingers over the sickly green mug with the cartoon characters face on it. “Do you plan on feeding an army?”

“No, but Stella suggested that we take some down to the local homeless shelter on Christmas Eve.” Anne smiled over at the girl. “That’s her family's Christmas tradition, and since she’s not with them this year, we thought we’d make it happen for her here.”

“Thank you again, for agreeing to this.” Stella smiled at Anne. “It really means the world to me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re a part of the family now, dear.” Anne teased. “Even if you’re not spending Christmas with us, this little tradition of yours has been officially integrated into our own Christmas tradition. We’ll always have a little bit of Stella with us during the Holiday’s now, eh.”

Stella laughed at that, reaching her arms out to wrap Anne in a hug. 

Harry almost felt a little jealous at how seamlessly she fit in here. 

“If you keep staring at her, she’s gonna want to run back to America.” Gemma nudged her elbow into his side. “We get it, she’s hotter than you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes at Gemma as she smirked. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Okay, Casanova.” She snorted. “Whatever you say. 

**

Harry wasn’t sure why he was hard. 

He just wanted to close his eyes and go the fuck to sleep. 

After a long day of travel, and an even longer evening filled with Harry pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic, he just wanted to sleep. He wasn’t looking forward to taking the annual trip to the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow. Since Robin passed, Harry was the only man in the family, which meant that he often had to do the heavy lifting. He found that most of his strength lay in his core, despite the amount of lifting he’d done to buff up his arms, and he wasn’t looking forward to tossing a tree on top of his car while everyone watched. 

Truthfully, that was the worry that should have been plaguing his mind as he lay in bed. Instead, his mind was lost in hazel colored waves that crashed on dark plum shores. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stella’s eyes or her perfectly shaped lips. He spent most of his night watching her drink from a wine glass, her cheeks turning a shade darker with each joke that she shared with his family. If there was one thing that he was shocked about, it was the dry humor that tumbled from her perfect plum colored lips. She was a funny girl, despite being quiet, and he laughed at every single joke she told without shame. 

As he shifted his about, trying to avoid any further thoughts about her lips, the tip of his cock brushed against the warm flannel of his pajama pants. He let out a throaty groan, reaching down to push his palm into the crotch of his pants to soothe the pressure building in his lower belly. He couldn’t jack off to the thought of Gemma’s new friend, it would be awful, and it would surely land him on the naughty list. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to picture her lipstick staining his lower belly, his upper thighs, and eventually...the shaft of his cock. But after a few minutes of trying not to think about it, that was the only thing he could see behind closed eyes. 

With an annoyed grumble, he dipped his hand into his pajama pants, tugging his cock out while his free hand pushed the band of the pants down his hips. He licked over his dry lips, making a mental note to buy some chapstick tomorrow as he gave himself one, swift stroke. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to moan as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. He was pathetic, dripping down his cock over a girl that he barely knew. He couldn’t believe that he was being that guy right now, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of a beautiful girl on her knees for him. He wanted so badly to have her there, whispering filthy words in that gentle tone she had, encouraging him to cum on her tongue. 

When he did cum, her name spilled from his lips. 

His chest was heaving as he came down, the tinkling of Stella’s laughter filling his ears. 

Seconds later, he heard her bid goodnight to Gemma before the door next to his own shut. 

He was totally fucked for this girl. 

**

The next morning, he didn’t expect to see Stella sitting at the breakfast bar when he came downstairs. 

He stopped in the doorway, his cheeks growing warm as he looked over her sweater covered back. Thoughts of her name tumbling from his lips last night flooded back as he looked at her. She was wearing a lavender colored, cable knit sweater, and her curls were tied up in a messy ponytail on top of her head. Most of the curls had fallen out, covering up some of her neck alongside her fingers. Her cheek was propped on her palm, her gaze focused on her laptop as she lifted a mug of steaming liquid up to her mouth with her other hand. 

Harry cleared his throat, walking toward the stove so he could put the kettle on. No one else in the house would be up for hours, but Harry couldn’t turn off his internal alarm clock no matter how he tried. He also hoped that he might find a moment of peace from the very girl sitting in his Mother’s kitchen. She haunted his dreams, her face playing on the silver screen in his mind all night long. He hated how infatuated he was with this woman that he barely even knew. 

“Morning.” She spoke up first, her voice scratchy and tired. “Did you sleep well?”

“Splendid, yeah.” He nodded, filling the kettle with water. “You?” 

“I’ve slept better, but that’s to be expected.” She said softly. “I spent a little bit of time on a skype call with my brother’s, so I was up longer than expected.” 

“But you’re up fairly early this morning, aren’t you?” He put the kettle on the stovetop before turning around, his eyes landing on hers. “Why’s that?”

“I wake up this early anyways.” She smiled at him. “I usually like to go for a walk in the morning to wake myself up.”

“That’s nice.” He lifted his hand, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “I usually like to go for a swim or a run in the morning, too.”

“Where do you swim?” She asked. 

“There’s a men’s swimming club not too far from my home in London.” He said. “It’s freezing cold, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Jeeze, you swim outside in this weather?” She lifted her head from her palm, her eyes growing wide. “I could never.” 

“It’s an acquired taste.” He chuckled softly. “What are you working on?”

“A new piece for my blog.” She said. “I started out using it as a diary of sorts, but people apparently love reading about the disaster that is my life.”

“I’m sure it’s not all horrible.” He hoped that he sounded encouraging and not rude. “You seem like a lovely, and positive person.”

“I try to be.” She shrugged, reaching for her mug. “I could say the same about you.”

“I try to be.” He smiled at her. “Would you like some breakfast?” 

“Oh, I was actually thinking of popping down to this little bakery Gemma told me about-” 

“Mandeville’s.” His heart picked up, a smile stretching across his lips. “Had my first job there.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She laughed, wrapping both hands around her mug as she leaned back in the barstool. “I figured I’d go grab some pastries for everyone. I know it’s kind of a busy day with the Christmas Tree Farm, so I thought it would be best if your Mum didn’t feel the need to cook.”

“She would love that.” Harry said. “Maybe I could go with you? We could both get our walks in, and I can see Mary before she hunts me down and drags me to the bakery.”

“I would love the company.” She smiled. “But enjoy your tea first, I’ll just be working on this until we’re ready to go.”

“Cheers.” He nodded, watching her eyes drop to her computer screen. 

She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup this morning, and Harry almost wished that she was. 

He wished that she had covered up her beautiful, freckle covered skin so that he didn’t fall harder for her beautiful face. He wished that she was hiding away those little blemishes that made him swoon, because she was actually a human after all, not some angel sent down from heaven to torture him. He wished that she covered those beautiful lips in that plum lipstick again so that he could imagine kissing it off of her. He hated the feeling stirring inside of his belly, the butterflies a tell tale sign of his feelings. 

He had a crush on Stella. 

And there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling for her. 

**

Stella’s gloves were precious.

They were a bright red, little snowflakes and reindeer stitched into them. 

She offered to let Harry borrow a pair of her gloves, claiming that she’d brought plenty of pairs for the winter, but he politely declined before shoving his hands in his pockets. She looked so cozy, wrapped up in her winter coat with a beanie on top of her head and a matching scarf tied around her neck. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and cuddle her so that they could both stay nice and toasty on their walk. He wanted to kiss her bare cheeks, paying special attention to each freckle on her skin as the winter sun cast over them. 

He was so infatuated with her that it was almost embarrassing. 

“I can’t even imagine what it was like, growing up in a place like this.” Stella turned her head towards Harry, the tip of her nose a little red. “It’s so picturesque.”

“It’s alright.” He gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to get out when I was a kid.”

“Of course you did, we all do.” She chuckled. “I think everyone should run away for a little while, it really gives you all of the tools you need to really appreciate your hometown when you go back. I don’t know that I’ll ever move back to my hometown, but when I visit it, I feel a little bit more appreciative of the pivotal role it had in raising me.”

“I feel the same way about Cheshire.” Harry nodded. “It’s a big part of who I was, and that helped make me who I am. I wouldn’t be the same without this place.”

“Exactly.” She said. 

“So where exactly are you from?” He asked. “I mean, obviously America-”

“Is it that obvious?” She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully, her lips pursed. “I don’t think it is.”

“It’s a neon, flashing sign above your head kind of obvious, love.” He snorted. “But I can’t place what your accent is.”

“It’s not really an accent.” Stella shrugged, turning her attention back to the sidewalk. “I grew up on the road for most of my life, but my family settled in Georgia when I was about twelve.”

“Interesting.” He said. “How did you like Georgia?” 

“I didn’t, at first.” She laughed. “I hated it so much. I loved being on the road with my family, traveling places like Hawaii and Los Angeles. When we moved to the south, I despised everything about it. It was so plain and boring compared to places we’d lived before. But like I said, moving away has made me learn to love it more when I go back.”

“How long have you been gone?” He asked. 

“About three years.” She said. “I lived in Amsterdam for a year, and then Paris, and now I’m here.”

“Which place is your favorite?” He asked. “Be honest with me, now. You don’t have to say London just because you’re trying to get on my good side.” 

Stella tossed her head back, laughing loudly. 

“I think it’s truthfully London, Harry.” 

His name sounded like honey falling from her lips. 

“Why is that?” He asked. 

“Because I’ve found my chosen family.” She turned back, giving him a smile that thawed out the chill creeping up from his toes. “Starting with Gemma, of course. She was the first person to take me under her wings, and I’m so happy that I have her in my life. Then I started to find other people, and we all became this really close knit group of friends that felt more like family than my actual family does. I don’t know how I’ll ever leave this place.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He said softly. “Maybe this is home.”

Please don’t go, Stella. 

Stay here with me forever. 

Love me. 

“My contract is up at the end of the year, but we’ll just have to see how things go.” She said. “I might be convinced to stay.”

“Well, I guess I have a lot of work to do.” He chuckled.

“Why are you so keen on me staying?” She asked him, her brows raising as she gave him a knowing smirk. “Do you have a crush on me, Styles?”

His cheeks grew hot against the cold wind. 

“Alright now, don’t let that go to your head.” He grumbled, tucking his neck into his scarf as Stella’s smile grew wider. “It’s all your bloody fault, you know?”

“What have I done?” She laughed louder. “I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly it.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re you, Stella.”

**

The Christmas Tree Farm was going well. 

That was up until Gemma decided that they absolutely needed to take a family picture in front of the big Christmas tree, Stella included. They had picked up a few little trinkets and such while walking around the market included in the farm. Anne picked up a reindeer headband with bells stitched in, plopping it on her head the second she found it. Gemma found an elf’s hat with little ears attached to the side, putting it on her hair before fussing with her hair. Stella found a crown made of poinsettias that she plopped on top of her curls, the red and gold working perfectly with her red lipstick and gold eyeshadow. Harry, however, wasn’t exactly in the spirit. 

“You’re wearing the bloody santa hat, whether you like it or not!” Gemma shoved it towards him with a frown. “If you stand next to Stella, you’ll like Mr. and Mrs. Claus!” 

“Shut up, Gemma.” Harry sneered, snatching the hat from her hands. “I didn’t tell you about that so you could throw it in my face!” 

“Well, I’m doing it for the greater good of our family photo!” She glared at him. “Put that hat on before I shove it on your head myself.”

“Fine.”

“Are you two alright?” Stella smirked, adjusting her crown on her head as she walked up to Harry and Gemma. “Santa is still putting people on the naughty list you know?” 

“If anyone’s going to be on the naughty list, it’s Harry.” Gemma tossed her arm around Stella’s shoulder with a proud smirk. “He’s being a pain in the arse.”

“Is the hat really necessary to the photo?” He groaned, dropping his head back. 

“Yes.” Stella and Gemma said at the same time. 

“Alright, alright.” He groaned, tugging the hat over his curls. “Are you both happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Stella smiled brightly at Harry. “I think you look handsome.”

“I’m going to just point out…” Gemma pulled her arm from around Stella, tucking her hands behind her back. “That there’s mistletoe hanging from that piece of wood above your heads.” 

“Gemma-” Harry’s eyes grew wide. 

“And I’m promptly going to walk away.” She smiled at Stella. “Meet us at the tree in ten minutes.” 

“Gemma-” Stella held her hand out as Gemma walked away, her eyes growing just as wide as Harry’s were. “What a sneaky little elf.” 

“Tell me about it.” Harry shifted, adjusting the hat on his head. “Devious little-”

“Well, I guess we can’t break tradition.” Stella looked up at Harry, shuffling forward slowly with a little smirk on her lips. “I mean, what would Santa say if we didn’t kiss under the mistletoe?”

Harry licked over his bottom lip, his fingers twitching. 

“You really want to kiss me?”

“I might.” Stella’s toes were almost touching Harry’s now. “But the question is, do you want to kiss me?”

“I do, yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I laid eyes on you, Stella.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She raised her brows. “Now is your chance, Mr. Grinch, lay one on me.”

Harry lifted his hands, pressing them to Stella’s face hesitantly before he lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It was a gentle peck, one that anyone would share underneath the mistletoe, but Harry wanted more from Stella. It seemed that she wanted more as well, her arms sliding around his neck as she pressed up on her toes. He let his hands fall to her waist as the kiss grew more intense, his hands holding onto her tightly as she brushed her tongue over his lower lip. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, letting her have what she wanted by parting his lips. When her tongue slipped over his, he let out a tiny moan, gripping her hips tighter. 

“Get a room, you two!” Harry groaned, pressing his forehead to Stella’s. 

“Gemma, I swear to god-” Harry turned his head, whipping his santa hat off before he threw it in her direction. “Go bother someone else!” 

Stella laughed, ducking her forehead down to Harry’s chest as he rubbed his thumbs over her side gently. He felt her body shaking underneath his hands, his heart hammering in his chest when he realized just how close they actually were. He turned his head back, lifting a hand up to guide Stella’s chin up. He pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three more times before she pressed her palms to Harry’s chest. 

“We’ll never stop if we don’t move away from the mistletoe.” Stella whispered. “And I think Gemma might physically pull us apart if we miss that Christmas picture.”

“Let it be known that I’m only partaking in this picture because I want to stand next to you for as long as I can.” Harry smiled. “I think I have a little more than a crush on you, Stella.” 

“I think I have more than a crush on you, too.”

**

“Madeline, stop right there.” Stella let out a frustrated sigh as she looped her arm under the baby carrier, her eyes falling down to the sleeping infant. “Milo, promise Mumma that you’ll listen when you get to that age?”

“Give him here.” Harry brushed a kiss over Stella’s temple, his hand massaging her lower back gently. “You go catch up with speed racer, okay? I’ll be right behind you with the baby and the diaper bag.”

“Thank you.” Stella turned her head, puckering her lips out. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He hummed out. “And our beautiful babies, even if one of them has a death wish and two left feet.” 

Stella snorted out a laugh, pulling her arm from the carrier before she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I better go help her up the stairs.”

“Please, we don’t need a repeat of last year.” Harry smiled. 

“Yeah, I would like to avoid a trip to A&E this year.” Stella snorted. 

He watched Stella walk over to an antsy Madeline, her pigtails bouncing about as she jumped from foot to foot in excitement. Harry chuckled softly at his daughter, amused by her excitement. He was happy that she found so much joy in Christmas, just like her Mother did. He watched Stella hold a hand out, waiting for Madeline to take it before they both conquered the brick steps outside of his Mum’s house. When they got to the top, Stella lifted Madeline up, kissing over her cheeks as their daughter giggled. Harry lifted Milo’s car seat from the base, his eyes falling down to the six month old with hazel eyes and soft cheeks just like his Mother’s. 

“We’ve got our hands full with those two, mate.” Harry pulled the soft, wintery blue blanket up to Milo’s chin, tucking it around his shoulders so that he would stay warm. “Gonna keep us both on our toes, I know it.” 

Milo cooed up at him, causing Harry to smile wider before he ducked his head down to kiss his son's soft cheeks. 

“Let’s get you into Nan’s before you turn into a popsicle, my love.” Harry said. “Mumma won’t be happy if we have to spend Christmas thawing you out.”

As Harry made his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but remember five Christmases ago. 

He was walking up the exact same steps on his own, unaware of the magic that was waiting inside for him. He was unaware that the girl Gemma brought home for Christmas would one day be his wife, and the mother of his two beautiful children. He had no idea that they would spend long nights together, planning their future and holding each other tight. He opened the front door to his Mum’s house, smiling at the sound of Madeline telling his Mother a story with animated gestures, her curly pigtails bouncing around as Stella tried to wrangle her jacket off. 

“And then Daddy told me we could get a puppy next year if I was good enough!” Madeline squealed out as Harry shut the door. 

He dodged the steely gaze he got from Stella after she heard the word puppy.

“Sorry.” He mouthed over at her, causing her to shake her head as she tried to fight off a smile. 

“You’re a menace.” She mouthed back. “But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He said it outloud, his heart soaring in his chest. 

Stella gave him a heart warming smile, Madeline’s coat still in her hands. 

Seconds later, Milo let out a tiny cry causing Harry to snap back into dad mode. 

He rested the carseat on the ground, carefully pulling his son out before pressing a kiss to his chubby little cheeks. As if Gemma could sense his presence, she barreled into the living room with her eyes set on Milo. 

“There’s my little man.” She held her hands out, wiggling them as Harry rolled his eyes. “You get to see him every day, Harry. Pass him over to his auntie.” 

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Please be careful with him, I kind of like this one.”

“Piss off.” Gemma snorted out, sliding Milo onto her hip before pressing a bright red kiss mark into his forehead. “Has Daddy told you that without auntie Gem, you wouldn’t exist?” 

“Gemma-” 

“Can you believe that?” She looked up at Harry, a hint of something nostalgic and genuine sparkling in her green eyes. “If I’d never brought Stella to family Christmas, we wouldn’t have two beautiful babies to dote over every year.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without them.” He whispered. “Thank you, Gemma.”

“Harry, I really didn’t-”

“Gemma.” He said her name sternly, pressing his palm to her bicep. “Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She said softly, her eyes watering. “Now, if you could do me a favor and bring a hot friend around, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.” He let out a wet chuckle, his own eyes watering. 

“What are we managing?” Stella wrapped her arms around Harry. 

“We owe Gem a favor.” He sniffled, turning head to press a kiss to Stella’s forehead. 

“Why are you crying, baby?” Stella frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” He pressed his lips to hers, softly brushing his nose against the tip of hers as his. “Just so incredibly grateful to have you in my life, that’s all.”

“You’re so sappy around the holiday’s.” Stella brushed her palm over his belly. “I love you, Mr. Styles.” 

“I love you, too, Mrs. Styles.” He said. “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

“Merry Christmas.” 

[haikyuul-kid]

venti and xiao soulmate headcanon

i’ve had this idea in my head for a couple of days and i needed to write it. i saw a tik tok that called them soulmates and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about. in this universe, soulmates can’t see the color of their soulmates eyes until they touch for the first time. so HERE WE GO!!

- venti never thought that he could have a soulmate. after the war and becoming the human vessel of barbatos, he’d somewhat lost his hope in finding his perfect other. he’d seen so much darkness that he’d lost his hope in ever finding light. venti believed that he had to be the light for everyone, since there was so much darkness. it seemed like he didn’t have a soulmate, he’d never seen any color in black and white before, so he figured he just didn’t have one. 

- xiao had never seen the color of the sky. he’d never seen the color of the water that surrounded liyue. growing up, everyone spoke about the beauty of liyue, how it was surrounded by the most magnificent sea. xiao never answered. he didn’t want others to know that he couldn’t see it. he knew that his soulmate must have blue eyes, a color he’s never know only heard about. every time he saw someone with grey eyes, he would make sure to shake their hand, just in case, but it was never his soulmate. 

-life changed for xiao when he decided to fight. he needed to protect the city he loved, so he decided to give up everything to protect. he became an adeptus and took on the demonic spirits that haunted liyue. it took a toll, he would later discover. xiao was plagued with nightmare, dark thoughts, and constant darkness. he lost hope. every fault chipped away at him, slowly driving him to madness and despair. 

- he’d been watching xiao for awhile. he saw him lose his spark. venti knew that morax had taken a bright young boy and destroyed his hopes of being anything other than a killing machine. he felt sad watching his light die slowly. venti saw him come closer and closer to the edge. he couldn’t watch him fall. 

- xiao had decided that this would be his final battle. he couldn’t go on. his mind was against him, everyone was against him, the whole world was against him. he had nothing. his family and friends had died, the other yakshas were disappearing and dying off, and he didn’t see the point anymore. what was the point of living if all it involved was death, pain, and misery. he charged towards the demons and monsters with some type of vigor. he doesn’t know if he was excited that it was finally his last battle, or his last day alive. he fought as much as he could. finally after what felt like hours, he found the final demon. 

- the demon came charging at him, and he thought about his life; how he’s never grown up, never become a great protector of liyue, never found his soulmate. he glanced at the grey for the last time and he sent a silent apology to his soulmate. xiao felt somewhat sorry for himself, that he would never get to see the color blue of the sky, the blu of the sea, the blue of his soulmates eyes.  he told himself he didn’t deserve it. the world had told him he didn’t deserve it, so xiao accepted it and sprinted towards the demon. 

- venti was headed to visit zhongli when he spots him. as he was flying in the wind, he saw a limp form lying near the coast of liyue. venti was a person who, even though her had somewhat lost hope in humanity, he didn’t want them to die a painful death. venti wanted to help them. as he landed, he knew immediately who it was. it was the adeptus, the boy who had lost his light. he knew he had to do something

- “you’re part of the yakshas.” a statement, xiao didn’t think much about it. he could only feel pain. he nodded his head, eyes closed from the pain. he thought dying would be easy, turns out he was wrong. “you’re dying. you can’t die” the voice said again. “listen,” xiao said softly. “you don’t get to decide things for me. you don’t know the things i’ve been through, what i’ve done, all i’ve seen. if you did, you would know that i deserve to die.” 

- “no one deserves to die,” the voice countered. “especially not you. i know you, i know all you’ve done for liyue, for monstadt, for all of tevat. you protect people, you take burdens so the ordinary don’t.” he could hear the soft, but urgent tone in the voice. “the ordinary?” xiao asked, his strength fading. “i’m not ordinary either. i know how dark the world could be, i’ve seen things too, but that doesn’t mean you should give up. the world has so much to offer. think of all the people you could meet, think of your soulmate. you deserve so much in life, so please don’t think you deserve to die.” 

- as the voice finished, he felt a warm hand on his face. he hadn’t realized how cold he was. the warmth spread through his body. this person felt familiar somehow. “you deserve to live, even if it has to be from me” the voice finally spoke. xiao felt a change. his wounds didn’t hurt as much, he felt warmer, lighter somehow. “you deserve to live.” the voice repeated. “i’m giving you my vision so you have can have the freedom to live, to be light again.” 

- xiao finally felt like he could open his eyes. he expected to be met with a grey sky, reminding him of the bleak world. instead, he was met with the most brilliant color he’d ever seen. “has the sky always been that color?” he asked, not expecting a response. he figured the person who had helped him had left. “yes it has, why do you ask?” he hears the voice respond. xiao jumps at the response, looking to where he hear the voice. he finds a small, pretty boy sitting. 

- he was wearing a beautiful green tunic and shorts with a brown accent and pretty blue braids. BLUE, he thought. he finally met his eyes and if he thought the blue of the sky was pretty, it didn’t even compare to the blue of this boy’s eyes. they were a beautiful blue-green that had a twinkle of something. “i’ve never seen that color before.” xiao hears the boy say. “what do you mean?” xiao responds. “your eyes, their this color i’ve never seen, what color is it?” “the color of cor lapis, they’re gold.” there was a look of awe on the boy’s face. “they’re beautiful.” xiao was taken aback, no one had ever called him beautiful. 

-it was in that moment that it hit him. “you must be my soulmate.” the boy looked up in shock. “i’ve never seen the color of the sky before,” looking up as he said it. “so you must be them.” “i-i didn’t know i had a soulmate.” the boy replied. “i’ve been alive for so long, i’ve never had a color i couldn’t see i...” he trailed off. “i’m barbatos, the anemo god.” he introduced. “but, i’m actually venti. i’m a travelling bard in the city of monstadt who goes where the wind and his heart take him!” the boy now had the brightest smile on his face. “it is an honor to meet you, lord barbatos-” “please call me venti”, he interrupted. “venti.” xiao finished. “i am yaksha alatus. people have taken to calling me xiao.” he finished with a slight scowl on his face at the last part. “xiao. i like it. what a pretty name for my soulmate.” the bard replied. 

- “are you usually this openly flirtatious?” xiao asks. “only with my soulmate.” venti replies. xiao sighs. “i’m-i’m sorry i almost left you. no one deserves to be without a soulmate, especially you.” “neither do you, xiao.” venti counters. “thank you for fighting, for accepting my vision. i want you to live, you deserve to live... to live... with me at you side... hopefully. if you’d have me” a small smile finds its way to xiao’s face. 

- “i wouldn’t dream of anything else. but, my loyalty still lies with liyue, as much as i am one of your vision holders. i can’t pledge all my loyalty to you.” a mischievous grin takes over the bard’s face. “i think i know a way to fix that. i was actually heading to liyue to meet with an old friend. i think he can help us. come with me?” venti asks. “i would go anywhere with you.” xiao cringes at his own cheesy response. “let’s take the old way then.” “what do you mean?” xiao asks. “we are going to walk to liyue, because i have to get to know my forever don’t you know.” a teasing smile on the god’s face. “as i have to get to know the annoying bard who is my soulmate.” replied xiao. “HEY! i mean, i am annoying, but hey!” xiao lets out a small laugh as venti acts offended and they head off to liyue. 

- venti never thought he had a soulmate. hundreds of years ago he was proven wrong. he would never tell xiao, but he’s secretly happy he was wrong about that. he loved him more than anything, and xiao love him just as much. he would be forever grateful for saving the boy on the beach. 

thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed!! see you in the next one!!!!

[ramble-writes]

So... Today is my Frank's birthday. Yes it is May 1st deal with it. BUT, here we are again with MORE of the Frank Brothers! I told myself I was gonna do this cuz it would be nice and I'm finding myself liking this AU. So James belongs to (again~) @franks-mixtape! As for the Julie (same one from the previous one) that one belongs to my bf. So.. Happy Birthday to my boy, big ol’ boofer you are. And Luke I tried to make sure I still got a mellow raven tone right cuz hi I haven’t been writing in a while.

NOTE!!!! This would take place after the valentine’s fic. So meaning that Fenik and James met in 1995 which carried onto 1996 (year in-game legion disappeared). As for the first wolf bros fic, that one was like.. an in the middle thing. So yeah.

Warning(s): cursing, teenager stuff lol

Don’t forget to like, reblog, and follow if ya wanna see more! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

-

Due to a teacher, the pack of Fairview knew about one of Frank's birthdays. On January 18th on a Thursday, the teacher for physics during roll call had briefly announced it when he called out James’s name. This information was quick to be relayed, since Joey was there in the class to hear Julie, Susie, and the other Frank, Fenik as his middle name goes.

Good on Fenik’s part for having a free period since he was quick to leave the school and hurried off to see about something simple to get his brother. Though... Any sort of gift or a word of cheer was met with hostility and retaliation. Of course, this worried the hell out of the three. Fenik only knew about what really happened and as to why his brother hated his own birthday a few days later when the raven-haired teen came stumbling to his brother’s home drunk off his ass and told the whole story.

Damn near broke the russet-haired Morrison’s heart at it...

Fast-forward to March. It was something about after valentine’s that Julie wondered about Fenik’s birthday, and had brought up this thought to his brother, Joey, and Susie. James was quick to be against it and said to drop it with a snap. He may not know what horrors his other half went through, but Fenik’s been the wolf the longest and had yet to ever snap. And he didn’t want to risk that. The last thing he honestly wanted (but never admitted) was for there to be a fight and for any of them to be hurt or worse, killed.

Of course, it brought on determination to mix with curiosity. Which was a bad mix when it comes to Julie since she went over to the russet-haired teen's foster home. Her last class was a free period, so it made it easy to get up and leave without really sticking around. Since it's most likely the couple has his papers upon fostering, it would have his date of birth on it.

"So... He's a May baby?"

"That's right. And on the first, no less," Audrey responded with a nod. A look crossed her face, then the woman turned to look at the young girl. "Do you think he wants to do anything for his birthday? With what he's been through, I think it would be nice."

Julie casted her eyes to the side, brown orbs focusing on a cross country trophy with a figure in a running position with the words '2nd Place: Fairview' engraved at the bottom.

"His brother says it would be a bad idea to do anything after what happened on his birthday."

"You mean, the other Frank? His half brother?"

"Mhm. He doesn't know what would happen if we do something for him. Though, I do agree since raven head threw a big fit on his birthday. Frank knows what happened, but hasn't told us."

Audrey nodded in understanding. Seeing as the two have the same father, of course, they would confide in each other. She does remember back in January that night when she went to check on the (unknowingly) wolf, that she saw the two in Fenik's bed. Amber eyes had looked over with a gesture for her to be silent. From what she could see of the passed-out teenager, was that he smelt of alcohol and just barely could see cheeks stained with tears.

"Then... How about a gift?"

That made Julie think. She wouldn't really know what he would want seeing as there's quite a bit he keeps to himself and or only shares with James. So she just shrugged. At least they have till May to think it over.

-

May 1st was only about a week away. The pack had about a full month to plan on what to do. Even though it was on a Wednesday, the weekend could be used up for the group. Despite his best efforts with telling them it's a bad idea, James caved and (reluctantly) agreed to help out to see what things caught his brother's eye.

So far, nothing. But, the raven-haired 19-year-old, on his first hunt, noticed something about the russet-haired teen. It was after they took down a moose, how Fenik managed to detach the head with a snap of the spine and the sickening ripping sound of flesh and muscles. James had... no idea how much blood was truly on the both of them till Fenik shifted back.

Blood covered his mouth and chin, running down his neck to his shirt under his jacket. And his hands were *drenched* from biting and attacking the moose. Back to the point, the black pelted wolf watched how the skin on the head was cut off with a knife the other had stowed away. It clicked that way. Bones/Skulls were of his interest with how he was careful with it and set it up against a tree.

"Whatcha doin' there fuzz butt?"

"Ideas are needed. Plus, gotta draw out your first hunting band! You're a Morrison, brother. And, maybe, if you'd like. A new skull. I'm thinkin' flesh hanging off the antlers."

"That's... bitchin. But, for another day. I'm cool with the band."

Fenik nodded, then finished what he was doing before shifting back and headed back over to his brother. It did surprise James when the rust-colored wolf took a big ol' bite out of the carcass and *swallowed* it down. He decided not to make a comment and tried it out himself. Weird how as a wolf the taste of raw meats doesn't taste so bad.

-

Since the days have gotten warmer with summer coming, clothes were lighter so no one overheated. At lunch, it was clear to the others how relaxed Fenik looked, not minding when his soon-to-be teammates from track & field would come over and pat him on the back to wish him a happy 19th and some even gave him 10 or 5 bucks (10 = about 8. 5 = about 4). He didn't mind *that* part one bit.

When school was out, the pack stood outside the steps as per usual. Well, except Joey till he did hop down the steps with a pretty big grin on his face. This made the two Morrisons and Julie look over with a raised brow.

"Somethin' up, Joe?"

"Yup! So, ya know how you told us you and raven head here went on his first hunt, yeah?"

Fenik nodded slowly, suspicious of what the tallest of their group was going on about. He heard his brother sigh in his head and go on about how he tried to tell them not to. "Yeaaaah?"

"And ya got all those tattoos n such, right?"

"Joey... What did you do."

The 18-year-old smiled and took off his backpack. Opening it, he withdrew a bag (that he most likely stashed in his locker) and handed it over. The russet-haired teen blinked as he took it, peaking in with amber eyes. Reaching in, he withdrew a box no bigger than the length of his forearm.

"A stick n poke?"

"Yeah! Well, we know that you do pretty well in art and that from some of the stuff you've shown us, you do all those dots that create really cool images."

"Stipple. That's what the media is called."

"Yeah, th-"

"JOEY YOU DIDN'T WAIT FOR ME!"

Susie came running down the steps with what looks like a book in her hand that she's waving about. Turns out the book was a sketchbook. At first, there was a slow build of concern and worry with how quiet he is, that is till they all felt a wave of sadness mixed with happiness. Hearing Fenik sniffle with a smile on his face was something.

"Sorry ah... I've.. never really celebrated my birthday. Always thought of it as bad since I was put in the system a day before my birthday. And.. all the others after that in every home, they just took the extra money I was supposed to get every May."

He ended it by muttering how the families thought it was bonus money. There were shared looks at that. Put in the system before turning 8. Ouch... James then leaned onto his brother's side, feeling him lean back. He isn't good with words, but as they say, actions speak louder than words.

After that exchange was done, the five all went home. Even after that day, Fenik was a bit snide on the fact that the other two didn't really get him anything. But, maybe Joey just had a higher knowledge? Though that didn't seem right, James did know about it as well.

The silence that followed didn't make any sense till Friday.

When the russet-haired teen got home, he was confused. One moment James hurried off to his house, then the next moment he was at the door of his house with his backpack.

"Bro, what the hell are you doin?"

"Waiting on you, and the others."

"Others?"

James just motioned for him to open the door, when he did, his parents were there waiting with bags of what he could tell is camping gear.

"Uh... What is going on?"

Mitch looked up upon hearing the teen and stood there proudly with a smile on his face as he gestured to the two big bags that hold two separate tents, rolled up sleeping bags, bags that probably have food and blankets, and other things.

"When was the last time you've been camping?"

"Uh... Six years ago? I think? Why?"

"We thought it would be nice to go down to the lake. Minnewanka to be exact," Audrey exclaimed with a smile. James let out a snort of a laugh from behind at the name, which the woman ignored before turning her attention to the people that walked up to the door.

"And we thought it would be nice to bring your friends and your brother! That's why they have their bags for the weekend."

Fenik turned his head to look over his shoulder to see Susie, Joey, and Julie there with what were their backpacks that were once full of school supplies, but now hold clothing. It took a moment for him to put the pieces together and his eyes widened.

"Wait, is this for my birthday?"

The six people in the room all smiled with nods of their heads. This made him get excited and rushed over to the stairs and his steps thundered as he ran up to his room. The raven-haired teen went up after the silence that followed after his other half left, wanting to avoid the awkward standing without knowing what to say.

-

The trip was long, but the weather made up for it. Susie, Joey, and Julie were in the backseat, mainly because the brothers insisted since they wanna sit in the truck bed. Honestly, the happiness that radiated from both was astounding considering the many shit foster homes they had.

It was Fenik who insisted that they howl out along the ride, mainly to be idiots in his excitement but, as far as he knows James probably hasn't tried to before. The sound though, was loud when conjoined from the two. Joey ended up sticking his head out to do it as well, Susie had turned down her hearing aid to make it easier to join in from her head coming out of the back window. Julie just chuckled with a roll of her eyes with Mitch and Audrey.

Upon getting there, a spot was reserved for them marked in outdoor safe spray paint. What was odd was how it was marked F.J. Fenik looked to the two adults, assuming it was a way to mark as him and Julie, that was till they looked at James with worried yet hopefully glances.

"We thought it would be nice to celebrate both your birthdays. From when I last saw you, James. You passed out in your brother's arms and looked like you've been crying."

There was a visible flinch from the raven-haired teen at that. He did remember getting drunk and stumbling to the other's home. He couldn't remember all that he said in his drunken stupor, but he did remember that he mentioned why he hates his own birthday. It clicked in his head right there and he stared at the two adults before muttering a low: "Why..."

"We may not know the reason why, and we know we were told to not do anything for you in the future but..."

"What the old bag is trying to say is, why not knock out two birds with one stone in the best way possible. At least y'all can go out and let all the crazies inside, out."

Green eyes sought out to hopefully lock with amber eyes, and they did, but it felt like there was a gentle coax in James's mind.

*'Ya might as well go with it. They ain't easy with "no" for an answer. But, they mean well. Honest.'*

The 19-year-old looked back at the two adults who were scolding each other from Mitch calling Audrey an 'old bag.' Looking down to the marker, he toed at it before letting out a sigh.

"Alright. But just this once. No more shit after it," He concluded. That caught the two's attention, but they nodded in understanding. For the rest of the time till dinner, they set up the two tents. One for the adults, the other for the teenagers. It was nice that a grill was there since hamburgers, salmon, and what other things they brought in cans were cooked.

It was Susie who declared that any gifts that were brought were to be given. She ended up giving Fenik a scarf she made, an infinity scarf that's a big circle. Course, he put that on. The one from Julie was... Questionable. It was a collar and a leash which promoted James to point and cackle like a mad man.

"AWW YOU GONNA TAKE YOUR WITTLE PUBBY OUT FOR WALKIES!!" He wheezed out, just howling with laughter before yelping when his brother had taken the leash and snapped it like what people do with belts. As a joke (they both know), the younger of the two chased after the eldest yelling about tying him up to a tree. The adults didn't get it, but the teenagers did and Joey fell down from wheezing so much.

When it all calmed down, Fenik yelped at a toy hitting his head and plopping onto the ground. A *squeaky* toy. He just glared at his brother who snickered, making the joke about the collar and leash worse. He muttered a 'thanks' to it before stopping at feeling something plush be placed on his head. He let it land in his lap to see a folded up plaid blanket, blue and red in color with its usual mixed colored squares when it comes to two colors. Thick in material too, meant to keep one warm.

*'It's not every night we get to run around the forest like some shitty dystopian forest novel, so I thought why not get something that'll ease ya when we're apart.'*

Fenik brought it up to his face to rub his face on it, but the fact that it was practically coated in James's scent honestly did bring him comfort that he kinda just... sat there with his face in it silently before lifting his face up with a smile on it. It was easy to tell that he's pleased about it.

-

Did they go night swimming? Yes. There was a bit of daylight left so it made swimming perfect for the teenagers as they did their best to not be so loud to disturb other sleeping campers. Of course they couldn't help the squeaks and yelps that were let out from falling in and water being splashed. Joey ended up calling it good and declared he's heading back to dry off and sleep. Susie followed after. Julie did as well, after wishing the both of them 'Happy Birthday' and kissing the both of them on the cheek.

It left the two Morrisons there on the shoreline, sitting there gazing out as the last bit of light faded and allowed for their eyes to adjust and adapt to the dark. Fenik went over to the lump that is his towel and unrolled it to pull out his newly acquired blanket, only to see a little box plop out. Confused, he picked it up as he headed over to his brother and sat down to drape the blanket over the both of them.

Before he could even ask, James nudged him to open it. He didn't press on but listened and ended up withdrawing a cord necklace tied around what looks like a tip of an antler. It was engraved too with what appears to be a half of a wolf face, but the lines were dyed green. That's when he noticed another one with the other half of the face and lines dyed red.

The raven-haired teen took both. The one with the red lines he put on around his neck, then fitted the one with the green lines around his brother's neck. A matching set, but the one the russet-haired one had was bigger, until it clicked as to why.

"Remember that box ya showed me of those pieces of bones you've collected or snapped off?" When Fenik nodded as a response, he kept going. "I took the tip from that moose we took down, then this one that I have from the deer you told me you hunted. So I thought, why the hell not?"

"And you made a matching set out of them... Thank you..."

James nodded with a half smile, then his eyes followed as his brother stood up. He did the same and shifted after Fenik did. Compared to the walking hellfire the rusted colored wolf is, he's a shadow with orbs to lure in those that are unsuspecting. Together, it was just two big overgrown dogs that caused chaos like puppies.

[kineticallyanywhere]

Fourteen, and four thousand, years old

Summary: (Post volume five) Oscar and Ozpin pass out after the battle of Haven. Oscar wakes up and his thoughts are pretty scrambled. Qrow of all people figures out the right perspective. 

Wrote this mostly after volume 5 came out, forgot about it for like a year at a time, decided I liked it too much to sit on it, and then finally finished it because I stand by the descriptions I have (specifically about how merging with Oz affects Oscar, from Oscar’s perspective). It was a lot of fun writing the kind of thought-paradox that might come with sharing a brain, especially when the line between who’s thoughts belong to who should be clear, but isn’t. 

(not beta’d, not on ao3 yet)

---

Oscar’s pretty sure he at least gets out the word “Atlas”.

Then everything goes quiet. 

Blessedly quiet. 

“...dn’t…”

“...s he okay? It’s bee…”

“...sing his body for half the fight. Took out of ‘em both. Jus… ome time.”

Soft. Something's soft. 

“...at this rate. Are we gonna have to carry him to the train?”

Ow. Pain, something hurts. 

“It's not like he's very big.”

Everything hurts. Heavy. Why does he feel so heavy? 

“I mean, maybe if it was just Oscar, but ima… zpin around.”

“That’s…”

“If it comes to it, I'll carry ‘im. Big babies.”

Qrow. Lifting his head off the pillow to clear both eyes to open takes work. He feels it all the way down to his shoulder blade. He takes the inch he can get and tries to see who's next to him. It's all a blur. Has he even opened his eyes? “Qrow?" 

A hand rests on his shoulder. It kind of doesn't hurt. Oscar’s head hurts. Pounding behind the bridge of his nose. For a moment he thinks the red eyes he sees must be his own. No, his eyes are brown-- No. His eyes are hazel now. His eyes hurt, too. The room has gone silent. 

“Go back to sleep, kid,” Qrow says. Ozpin is silent; How can Qrow tell?

He is Ozpin though, and he is awake. He hurts. But that doesn't matter, what matters is, “Atlas…”

“We’re already on it.” Oh, good. Oscar did manage to say it before. 

“We’re gonna get you there in one piece, too,” a lighter voice says. Oscar’s head loses its inch from the pillow. His eyes - hazel, but so dry - slide to the person crouched next to him.”You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she promises. 

Promises… he's seen her faces a thousand times. She's a warrior. She has so many friends. She's alive and well. She's dead. Is that his fault, too? Probably. 

“Summer…” is all he can say, and Oscar has no idea (some idea) who that is. 

And then everything is quiet again. 

Blessedly quiet. 

Nothing hurts. 

...his hands sting. 

He's pretty sure he's sitting up now, leaning sideways against something. His clothes are soft. Not… not well worn soft, more like new soft. He's pretty sure Ozpin is the one who knows what that feels like. 

Opening his eyes is easier this time. He sees he's leaning on fabric that is folded around an arm shape. Green and black and a bit of pink. Hands folded in a lap. Legs on a couch, feet on the floor. The room is darker this time, and yet the air is lighter. There’s quiet laughter across the room and cricket chirping beyond a wall. 

Ozpin is silent. 

“Ren?” Oscar asks for instead. 

The shoulder he’s leaning on shifts a little, but Oscar doesn't want to lift his head from it. 

“Oscar?” Ren asks quietly in return. Whatever other conversation is in the room continues easily without him. He and Oscar go unnoticed. 

Oscar's eyes gravitate down towards his own hands, his own clothes. He’s wearing a clean white shirt and baggy grey pants that he doesn't recognize. His palms are stuck with bandaids -- his gloves are gone. The cane is different from a shovel, his own memory supplies. He runs his fingertips across the textured fabric pulling at his skin. He wiggles his toes and feels it there, too. Running up walls is different from rounding up chickens. 

Ren is wonderfully patient. 

“Did I wake up before?” Oscar asks. No depressed tones hang in this air. There's no worry or panic, if only for now. He recognizes the scent of a tea Oscar knows he's never encountered before. 

“A few times,” Ren tells him. He waits even more moments for Oscar to process what that means. Other than the idea that maybe he had changed his own clothes, he doesn't. Eventually Ren asks, “Are you hungry?”

Oscar feels very heavy. Something in his chest feels smaller, yet crowded, and something weaves across and around his skin like air but warmer. Heavier. Like more than it should be. It's not a bad feeling. He feels like more than he's been before, just a little. 

The band aids are lighter than his skin tone. Have they always been like that? 

Ren reaches a hand across himself to place over Oscar's. Oscar stops pressing at the bandaids. His hands sting. He misses when his cane was familiar to his hands. 

“You should sleep,” Ren suggests softly. He says most things softly. 

Oscar's eyes are already closed. “Okay…” he says. 

Everything is quiet. 

Quiet. And light. And heavy? Light and heavy. And hot. Oscar’s eyes are closed but his head is spinning but he feels like he's sinking. Like something intangible is contracting inside of him, pushing together and leaving him exposed. Cold. Hot. Tired. 

Oscar is so tired. 

There's a feeling on his shoulder. 

“...aura got really weak all of a sudden. I thought-- I thought maybe--”

“No, you're doing good, kid. Keep at it.”

Something falls over him, starting at his shoulder. Like a sheet of smooth water rolling over him and hugging him like a blanket. When he lifts his eyelids, he can see it. It's light green and feels cozy. It feels safe. Whatever was pushing inside Oscar’s chest decides to take a break for today and carefully releases. 

Tonight? This morning? Evening? What day is it? 

Qrow is there again. And Jaune, whose hands are glowing. Nora hovers behind them, swinging on her toes. She catches eyes with Oscar and gives a remarkably false smile. Oscar’s eyes slip shut without permission. 

“Take your time, ‘kay Os?” she says. 

Oscar makes a noise through his mouth which he doesn't open. 

And then it's quiet. 

It's still quiet when he becomes aware of himself. He's sitting up again, but leaning at an angle that he doesn't want to leave. Everything's quiet save for the sound of someone shuffling close by. Something ting-ting-tings softly. 

Oscar? 

It's not startling at all, as if he prepared the breath himself even though nothing was said out loud. 

Ozpin? 

Was that a question, or a confirmation? 

The voice that sounds like Ozpin says, Are we alright? 

His jaw feels stiff and his voice dry as he says, “Are we?”

Another dry voice says, from outside, “Kid?”

Oscar blinks his eyes and floats his head upright. He'd been leaning against the wings of a fluffy armchair. The room he finds himself in is unfamiliar, but the style still feels like Mistral, with long thin lines and dark, warm, tones. The other person in the room is much more familiar. Qrow has himself folded between the foot of Oscar's chair and the coffee table, where he's setting a spoon next to a warming plate with two mugs on top. Oscar’s chair isn't very tall, and Qrow is a small mountain even on the floor, so their difference in eye level isn't even that wide. 

Qrow is a mess of a human being, as far as Oscar can tell, but his presence is always assuring. The other children must be fine if they're not here and he is. 

“Hey,” Oscar greets. 

Qrow gives a small smile. “Hey there, Wizard. How ya feeling?" 

Oscar assesses. Slowly. He sits up properly and rubs his eyes. He's faintly sore. A blanket falls onto his lap. He remembers the fight for the relic, he remembers Ozpin going quiet, he remembers being safe, he remembers…

Ironwood will be upset. When isn’t he, nowadays? 

“A little blurry,” he decides. 

Qrow nods like that's a perfectly reasonable answer. He reaches for the mugs. “Coffee or hot chocolate?" he asks. 

“Hot chocolate?" The words feel new to his tongue. 

Qrow’s eyebrows raise. “You never have hot chocolate, kid?" 

“I…" No. They didn't have a lot for small, one-time, luxuries on the farm. “Not since Beacon.”

They both know Oscar’s never been to Beacon. The teacher's lounge always had a stash of cocoa powder. 

Qrow hands him one of the mugs without comment, for which Oscar is grateful, and takes a drink out of the other. The mug is warm, but the band aids on Oscar’s palms block the worst of the heat. 

Hot chocolate is Oscar's new favorite thing. Everything feels all warm inside. He feels his whole body slowly start waking up with him. He wiggles his toes and feels the rub of fabric between them. He pulls his feet onto the chair with him to get a look and finds several more band aids on the balls of his feet and one on the back of his left heel. 

“Looks like you've still got some work to do, farm boy,” Qrow tells him lightly. 

Oscar groans. Fighting… wasn't terrible. At least not until Ozpin took over and sent Oscar’s head spinning to understand how he could keep up with everything that was happening. Then Ozpin had let his grip slip off the controls and it had taken everything Oscar had to not black out on the spot. 

Qrow puts a hand on his knee and swings it back and forth. “It’ll get easier.”

That's what he's afraid of. 

“How long was I asleep?" Oscar asks. 

“It’s been a couple days since the battle,” Qrow answers. He lets Oscar’s knee go but keeps his arm leaning on the chair. “The kids have been pretty worried. You've woken up a handful of times. Do you remember?" 

Oscar humms uncertainty. “A couple times.” 

“Yeah I had the feeling you weren't quite with us. You remember changing clothes?”

Oscar shakes his head and picks at his shirt.

“You, uh… didn't miss much.”

That clearly wasn't true, but Oscar lets him have it, and a gulp of his coffee. Oscar turns his own attention to his hot chocolate. It's already half-empty. Figures he'd be thirsty, he guesses. 

“You spiked a fever last night, outta nowhere. Jaune super-boosted your aura and it came down, but the whole ordeal put some of the other kids on edge.”

That won't do. They'd all just had a major victory, the children need every reassurance they can get, not more aspects to worry over given by the very people they are just starting to put their trust in. 

Oscar is also a kid. Oscar would also like some reassurance. 

“You okay, Wizard?”

Oscar realizes he's been quiet for a while. “I just…” Oscar closes his eyes, which skews his sense of balance, but the simple loss of input spares him some focus to form a sentence. It feels like he has two lines of logic running at the same time, but each one alternates which one is making statements, so that every string of thought he forms in his brain ends up contradicting itself. Oscar’s been sick before, but nothing ever made him feel like this. This was familiar, though; something from a long time ago. Oscar hasn't lived a long time. Not yet. He will have. Soon. 

Oscar's head feels light and wobbly. He holds it in one hand, and it stops the world from swaying a little. The two lines of logic agree on one thing, at least. “I have a lot in my head.”

Qrow’s hand takes his ankle this time. It’s grounding. “Oz didn't give us all the gritty details about how this works, but from the way he talked about it - the whole merging thing - this is how it's supposed to go.”

That's what Oscar’s afraid of. 

“What I mean is: you’ll live. It'll get easier, and this phase’ll pass. You're gonna be okay. “

Oscar notices his hands shaking. He wishes he had more hot chocolate. Maybe some coffee. Oscar doesnt want coffee. He wants… he wants… 

A dark spot appears on the bandaid wrapped around the inside of his hand  

He can't get his voice to come out steady as he asks, “But will I still be me?" 

Oscar doesn't want to stop being himself. He doesn't want to turn into somebody else. He doesn't want to lose bits of who he is, one inch at a time, until someone else takes over. He doesn't want to disappear. 

Oh, Oscar… 

Oscar both wants to sink into whatever comfort Ozpin has to offer, and to push him away with everything he has. Not that any amount of pushing would get him very far. 

Then Qrow says, “Are you any less you than you were two months ago?”

Oscar looks up at him. He blinks some tears out of the way. “Huh?" is all he can process to say. 

“In the last two months, you got on a train, you’ve met huntsman and huntresses - hell, you've even fought most of ‘em. You've got new friends, new memories, new experiences; but you're still you, yeah? You just punch better and maybe know a few more things.”

“A few is an understatement.” Maidens, relics, gods, wizards, huntsmen, magic? Sure. A few things. “But I… yeah?” Or at least he didn't feel like he wasn't himself.

“You're gonna start remembering more and more as this goes. In a really, pretty short amount of time, you'll basically be experiencing everything that Oz - and whoever he was before that, and before that - experienced. You'll be gaining experiences, just like you have been these last two months. It's up to you--” Qrow poked him on the forehead “--whether or not you let those experiences change you. How they change you.”

Oscar’s vision gets blurry again, but his heart doesn’t pound quite so hard.

“I won't pad this for you, you will be different. But that doesn't mean you won't be you.”

Ozpin doesn't say anything, but there's no denial in that silence. No hidden corner or softened edge for Oscar's sake (there have been a few of those). Only reassurance. Wherever this goes, they'll go together  

Oscar rubs the back of his hand over his eyes. Sniffs self-consciously. "Thanks," he says. 

Qrow, mortifyingly, ruffles Oscar's hair, seriousness falling away again. "Any time, kiddo."

And then the door bursts open, ricocheting off the wall and nearly giving them both a heart attack. Nora stands in the doorway, the bottom of a cup still pressed to one ear. She makes determined and excited eye contact with him and shouts, "Oscar!" Then she leans back down the hall, door frame clutched in her fingers, to proclaim, "OSCAR'S AWAKE!"

A burst of red rose petals and then Ruby’s there. “Oh, thank goodness, are you okay?”

Oscar barely gets the words, “I’ll be fine,” out of his mouth before Ruby sags all the way to the floor in relief. 

“That is the least stressful thing I’ve heard all day. You would not believe the things Blake has been telling us about Menagerie and her house catching fire and-- oh!” Just like that, she’s on her feet again. “Oh my gosh! You have to meet Blake! I’ll--”

Before she can finish the next sentence, Nora has body-checked her across the room and taken her place. 

Seriously, she says, “Be straight with me, Oscar. Where does it hurt? Did you pull any muscles? What’s the weirdest dream you had? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Oscar looks nervously between her and her hand. “That’s a fist,” he tells her. 

Now Nora sighs with relief. “Phew.” Towards the hall, she shouts, “Looks like we don’t need the defibrillator, Ren!”

Just like that, Ren is in the doorway. “No one thought we’d need a defibrillator.” 

Then Jaune pokes his head in the doorway. He’s got his scroll up to one ear and a hand over the receiver. “We’re sure?”

He hasn’t called paramedics, has he?

Qrow asks him, “Who are you on the scroll with?”

“The pizza place down the street, you want any?” Jaune says. 

They get more pizza than they can eat in a day. Nora compensates for their weaknesses. Weiss makes more hot cocoa. Yang tells excellent sleepover stories. Blake has a very broad taste in book genres. They have a calm night. An easy night. They all know what’s coming, but until the sun rises again, the air is light. 

Oscar’s mind is quiet, the rest of that day. He’s not sure when his thoughts straightened out or the fog cleared away for a while. For a while he, unrealizng, makes the mistake of thinking himself alone in his own head. For a short time, he is only Oscar, and only a kid. 

Later, on a cold street in Argus, he suddenly understands why he’s known this feeling before. Why he recognizes that feeling--of single-mindedness, of solitude--and can articulate what it is. He is only Oscar, and only a kid. (But he won’t be, not forever.) 

It’s horribly quiet.  

[papiermachecat]

Here’s a lengthy ramble about the Culture Hustle watercolor set, with lots of pics/comparison swatches...all for you, Culture Hustle anon (but I love doing this kind of thing so thank you!)

I’m going to go in color spectrum order--they’re divided up according to my arbitrary swatch-placing, not necessarily in the order of the palette. First up: yellows!

All of these are very good IMO--very pigmented, and Happy & Sensei are fairly transparent, too--yellows are not typically the most transparent pigments. These more than hold their own next to Mission Gold, Sennelier, Paul Rubens, and Rembrandt (the brands are abbreviated in the color names). Sensei in particular is beautiful and glowy, and if they sold it by the tube I would buy it.

Red-oranges/Reds: almost all of these are fantastic. Artstar has some weird texture thing going on that made me think it might be a cadmium red, but it’s more transparent than cadmium colors usually are. I get really hung up on texture so I’m not a fan of that one, but Vincent, Raygun, 15 Minutes & Crush are all excellent! 15 minutes looks like a cadmium orange/red, but it’s much more transparent (and has a nice even texture). So far so good....but coming up we take a little detour into Not-so-hotville.

Okay so the purples are really, really pretty. HOWEVER. I am highly suspicious that they contain fluroescence, because there is no watercolor pigment I’ve ever seen that creates purples that vibrant. They might be mixes using their Pink color and a blue...anyway that wouldn’t matter much except that fluorescence is not lightfast (fades with exposure to UV light). I’m conducting a little lightfastness test on my windowsill and will report back--if they are lightfast, I’ll be ecstatic! 

Dropout....why. It is incredibly pale--that is the most pigment I could get out of it--which isn’t always a bad thing, but it also has a weird patchy texture reminiscent of the Sakura Koi watercolors (which I loathe). Lapis Lazuli by Daniel Smith is also incredibly pale and a purply-blue (and VERY expensive, made from the genuine stone), so that might be what they were going for--but the genuine Lapis Lazuli has a pretty, soft granulating texture. I don’t own it so I cant compare, I’m just going off swatches I’ve seen. 

Bowie & Pink suffer from the same unpleasant texture, but it at least have some color. I am curious about Pink for the same reasons as those bright purples--if it’s lightfast, it’s a very unique color and would be fun to mix with.

Jealous & Runaway save this bunch--they’re really excellent transparent reds, with strong pigmentation and smooth textures.

I’m almost certain Dive & Always are cobalt blue & ultramarine, respectively--unfortunately, they’re rather lackluster versions of those pigments. Both of those are granulating pigments, which accounts for the texture of the swatches, but some companies make less (or more) granulating versions--White Nights granulate significantly, but they’re also much stronger than the Culture Hustle colors.

Alchemy is a pretty color--a deep green-leaning indigo. Zoltar is likely Prussian Blue (which again throws the lightfast question into play, as Prussian Blue is a fugitive pigment, which makes me sad because it’s beautiful and useful :(). 

King Zulu & 1980 are gorgeous! I have no idea what pigments they are...King Zulu looks like it might be a phthalo blue with white, but it’s vibrant and still mostly transparent, so I’m not sure. 1980 has me totally stumped--it’s so bright, like a cobalt turquoise/teal, but not as green, and perfectly transparent and non-granulating (where cobalt teals are opaque and granulate). I LOVE it, and again, if they sold this by the tube, I’d buy it for sure. 

Envy is a typical convenience yellow-green, but a very nice one. Venom is another convenience green, but not quite as nice as Envy. Emerald City I’m almost certain is just Monster plus white (my little swatch next to it is Mission Gold Bamboo Green/PG36 plus white). Monster looks to be a PG36 (a phthalo green, though the less commonly-used one) with possibly a touch of yellow in it--it’s a nice strong color. Loser is almost a phthalo green/PG7 (the typical phthalo green) but looks to have some blue in it. And Swamp is a nice murky deep green, similar to my beloved Sennelier Forest Green but less blue and more earthy. Grudge is a BEAUTIFUL sap green--I suspect it’s made with PY150/Nickel Azo Yellow, because it has that glowy look to it. The texture is lovely. Another one I would buy separately.

Now we’re into the earth tones. They’re...meh. Why on earth they included only 5 earth tones and chose to make two of them nearly identical yellow ochres I do not understand--and they’re not even particularly nice yellow ochres, as they’re quite opaque and heavy. Akhenaten is a nice enough color--almost definitely a PR101, which can produce a wide range of orange-to-red browns. It’s opaque, but that’s characteristic of this type of color (look at my beloved, beautiful M. Graham Terra Rosa over there in all her opaque glory!). The texture of Akhenaten is not as perfectly velvety as Terra Rosa (nothing is), but it’s still nice.

Last but not least! For a company that makes a pigment called Blackest Black, I was expecting more from a color called Void. It’s actually pretty wimpy, comparable to an Ivory Black. Dirtbag is MUCH more intense, but a little warmer than a true black--Spinel Grey, next to it, is actually the strongest black I own despite the name, and Dirtbag is every bit as dark. Look how the Sharpie line totally disappears. 

Stump is a nice deep brown/burnt umber color. It’s fine. And then.....Butt Nugget :////. Another nice (if unremarkable) brown, lighter and warmer than Stump.

(Also there’s a white but I didn’t photograph it. It’s run-of-the-mill, not super opaque.)

IN SUMMATION: I think this palette has plenty of really nice colors to work with. For ME it’s not as versatile as I would like because of the packaging--the pans aren’t removable, and they don’t sell refills, so if I get attached to any of these colors and use them up, the only way to replace is to rebuy the entire palette (as far as I know--maybe I missed it?). The color selection is odd to me--so many convenience greens?? I would get rid of a few greens and one of those yellow ochres and replace them with either more earth colors (there’s no burnt sienna-type color which is a palette staple) or some more fun mixes--whihc brings me to my next point: I want pigment info!! I believe almost all of these are two-pigment mixes to make the colors a little more unique, but it’s good to know what you’re working with when you’re trying to mix colors. 

All that said, this is a significant step up from the cheaper sets on the market, and has enough great colors in it that it’s worth considering, especially if you aren’t obsessive about collecting and cataloguing colors like I am and you just want to paint like a normal person :).

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Part 14

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 5k

Warnings: Some gory body horror bits -imo. Violence, another cold open, angst? Butchered Swedish.

A/N: It’s funny, looking back at my series plot outline, I never thought this was the direction I was going to go with this confrontation but... The pen writes what it wants.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

Derek and Peter sat in the front of the car –Peter at the wheel driving at a more dangerous speed than Derek did. Markus sat beside you.

The others had taken other cars.

The car was cold. The air-con turned all the way up for some reason. It seemed you were the only one with goosebumps that refused to smooth over since you were the only one rubbing at your skin. In search of a warmer cardigan, you reached beside you to grab your duffle bag, but then you remembered you didn't have it. It was with Scott.

Damn!

You should have dressed warmer.

A dial tone sounded from Derek's phone. This was the third time he'd tried the same number. His brow was scrunched in annoyance as he tapped re-dial for the fourth time.

Your head was pressed to the cold glass of the window, the trees whooshing past to form one collective reel of green and brown as your nails dug into the bandage wrapped around your palm. An itch you couldn’t get at annoying your newly formed cut.

"She's not going to answer," Peter said, eyes focused on the road. "Besides, our plan isn't contingent on her being a key player."

"We need the back-up in case things go south," Derek said. "She's the only one powerful enough to take one of those hunters head-on if we need a quick exit."

"I cannot wait to say 'I told you so' when this inevitably blows up in your face," Peter snorted.

"If that happens we'll all be screwed to high hell," Derek said bleakly. “Which means, you’ll be going down with me, smart-ass.”

Peter rubbed his nose, a redness forming just above his lip. He exhaled loudly.

Once the ringing stopped, an unclear voice sounded out through Derek’s phone's speakers. He placed the phone to his ear.

"I need to cash in a favour," his tone was indifferent.

There was a beat of silence, thick and disturbing.

Peter shuffled awkwardly, stretching against the uncomfortable seat material and forward slanted head rest.

"She's not gonna show," Peter sing-songed.

You laced your fingers around your pendant, wringing it about from left to right like a pendulum. A spot on your chest marked by sage oil.

Derek hummed before cutting the phone, it sounded contemplative rather than disappointed. He turned to Peter, "I guess we're just going to have to hope everything goes as planned then."

 The car was parked on the edge of the treeline to the woods.

Peter groaned, looking down at his expensive shoes and the damp soil outside, "These were new shoes."

"I'll buy you a new pair if we live through this and you stop complaining," Derek clapped back as his heavy boots stomped into the mud, splatters of wet soil spraying on his dark jeans.

You and Markus disembarked and for once you were glad you weren't wearing your tennis trainers.

"On the plus side, if we all die, at least it’ll be in style," Markus noted dryly.

Peter shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, split up?" Markus asked.

Derek nodded, "Yeah, since we know the lay of the land better, Peter and I will take one of you and we'll work going inward."

"If this place is so important, why hasn't anyone ever mapped out its location?" You asked, hands stuffed in your jeans to keep your body heat close as a cold breeze swept through.

"We tried. The Nematon has a tendency to hide itself," Derek told you.

"Oh..." you said, pretending to understand.

Peter looked around for a minute before speaking over his shoulder, "I'll take tall, dark and broody with me."

Both Markus and Derek pointed at themselves in confusion.

Peter rolled his eyes before pointing at your brother, "The other tall, dark and broody."

You lifted a finger to protest but before a full sound left your throat, Peter had already disappeared into the dark forest with Markus in tow.

You cursed under your breath and from the cheeky smirk Derek wore, you knew you hadn't sworn low enough.

"Come on," Derek's head nudged towards the dense forest. Hands in his back pockets.

"Perfect," you said sarcastically.

You and Derek walked in silence, your hands running up and down your bumpy flesh to burn the cold away.

The woods held an eeriness to them that made the air feel like burning sulphur despite the cold. Fog rolling outward like a dense smoke cloud the farther from the road you got.

You stepped in a mud patch and slid forward. Derek's quick hands caught you and kept you steady.

"You okay?" he looked you in the eye.

You blinked away and cleared your throat, "Yeah, t-thanks."

"You feel cold," he shrugged off his jacket. "Here."

"N-no, I- I'm fine, really," you refused his offer, but Derek ignored your words, draping his jacket around you. It was sweet of him.

"Relax. It won't eat you. It's just a jacket," he smirked.

You nodded while pressing your lips together.

"So… come here often?" you asked as Derek marched forward with long strides -you practically had to jog to keep up.

"To the woods?" he chuckled. "Yeah, this place is a riot," he added dryly.

You scrunched your face and Derek’s arms flexed as he folded them together.

"Actually I grew up close to these woods," there was a sadness to his voice.

You were intrigued, chin rising higher to get a better look at his face, "What's your family like?"

"Dead. Mostly," he noted casually.

Your eyes went wide.

Derek shuffled, feeling that maybe he sounded a bit more serious than normal. He ground his teeth before laughing humourlessly and tried again, this time lighter: "We used to be like your family, actually. Large, overwhelming, very unapologetically different."

"Thanks, I guess…?" you swatted at some fireflies.

Derek shifted his eyes blue and the bugs scattered from predatory fear. He relaxed back to normal and added, "It's a compliment, trust me."

You smiled before asking, "What happened?"

He answered almost immediately, like it as a rehearsed line or one he’d thought about many times, "The girl I was dating turned out to be a hunter… a homicidal one at that."

"Boy, those just follow you everywhere," you jabbed.

He craned a brow your way, "Goes with the territory."

He held your gaze for a moment too long and heat flushed through you, your lips tingling from the memory of his tender yet rough kiss. Your cast your eyes down at your feet.

When you looked back up you noticed Derek rubbed his nose discreetly.

You were compelled to ask him out of curiosity, "You and Peter have been doing that all night. Everything alright?" you pointed to his nose with a red nib.

"You can't smell it?" he was surprised, his eyes fixed on your pendant.

"Is it the sage?"

He hummed in response.

"Sorry," you said with a glib tone, feeling bad for causing everyone so much discomfort.

He cocked a half-smile, "Don't apologise. That is the only reason we're still alive-" he pointed at your pendant. "I can survive a little irritation. Immortal hunters? Not so much."

You stopped for a bit. Mind remembering something that made you laugh dryly. Derek turned to you.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," you held his jacket as your body shook with laughter. "It's just ironic isn't it? The first time I met you, I dug a bullet out of your chest. You were the one in need of saving then. Now look at how everything turned out. I'm the proverbial damsel in distress and it pisses me off!"

It was Derek's turn to laugh, hot air permeating through the cold night in foggy breaths.

"You find that funny?" your jaw squared as you planted your feet and crossed your arms.

"I think it's funny you think you're a damsel," he smiled wider. "Not many damsels I know of have no qualms with cauterising a man's wound using the tip of an arrow and a zippo.  And you can damn well be certain they aren’t eagerly offering themselves up as bait. Not once mind you, but twice." He held up two fingers.

"Then I guess I'm an idiot," you remarked flatly.

"Aren't we all?"

Derek placed a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacted as you’d come to expect, with a shiver running up your spine and a flush rising up from your neck to greet your cheeks.

He uttered in a manner reserved for those more than friends -soft and intimate, "Take it from someone who lost their lycanthropy once, claws and teeth and speed doesn't make you powerful. Resolve does. And you've got that in spades."

You gulped, the warm feeling creeping into your chest again. It was strange seeing him so… open. This version of Derek was different from the one you first saw bleeding out on your metal slab.

Derek didn't move. His hand sending ripples of electricity through you from the contact. It didn't help matters that his jacket smelled of his scent and was wrapped around you like you were a couple in an 80's movie.

It all should have felt overbearing, too demanding, but for some reason, it felt the complete opposite. It felt like just enough.

You took a step forward and Derek stayed locked in place. He was determined to keep his promise. If anything were to happen between you two, under the stars and the pregnant silver moon, it would be only by your say so. You held all the cards and from the tantalisingly tempting way your lips tingled, you knew instinctively what your next play would be.

Your brain shouted for you to step away, to keep things from getting complicated, to not risk your heart again, but your lips parted of their own volition and soon you were speaking in a heady tone, "Derek… I…"

His jaw tensed, though it was much subtler. His eyes on the verge of turning blue. An odd aquamarine settled over his irises instead. He was trying his damndest to stay in control. It was then that you noticed how tightly he balled his other fist. The air filled with more trails of fog from his and your breaths. They kept climbing in frequency.

"I…" your feet trembled and then a howl pierced through the sound of crickets, startling you from your daze.

Derek inhaled and let his arm drop free from your shoulder, he brought it to his own and started working the muscle there as if it were sore.

"Peter's calling. Think he's found it. Come on," he shrugged as he walked in broad strokes towards the origin of the howl.

You cursed again and followed after, thankful for the cold air for the first time since the night began. It drained the colour away from your face.

"What took you guys?" Markus asked as he hopped off one foot onto the other in repeated motions.

"They were probably in-dis-posed," Peter wiggled his eyebrows as he strained the syllables of that last word, a devilish smirk pulling his face up.

Derek shook his head and you bit your inner cheek, ignoring the suggestive look Peter had shot your way.

A stone’s throw away was an old stump in the middle of the clearing. The Nematon.

"That's the Nematon?" you asked, a little disappointed.

"Not much to look at, but trust me, that thing is teeming with supernatural energy," Peter said.

Markus squatted close to the tree, placing his hand on its flat surface. His eyes flashed to red and back, nails shifting into claws then back to nails.

"They're right, this is it." He confirmed.

"This thing is barely higher than my knee. Without branches, what are we going to fashion stakes out of?" you raised your hand at the short stump.

Derek and Peter glanced at each other, each thinking the same thing.

In unison, they said: "The root cellar."

The root cellar was dark. The smell of earth was rich here. An old stain of a bloody handprint had turned a coppery orange colour on one of the root tendrils snaking into the ground. A five-fold-knot carved into another. The air was freezing, like the temperature decreased exponentially, forcing your teeth to chatter. A sickening feeling tugging at your gut as your organs protested in every way possible.

"Something bad happened here," you spoke in a hushed whisper.

Derek was stiff, eyes turning glassy as they stared daggers at the five-fold-knot. The atmosphere around him shifted. All of a sudden he was his usual brooding and detached self.

"That is an understatement," Peter replied.

Markus took in the air, coughing slightly. He and Peter scratched at their noses in almost perfect synchronicity. Not Derek though. He stayed painfully still.

"What happened here?" Markus rose his eyebrows.

Peter's mouth opened then closed, a furrow on his face.

"Let's just get what we came for and wait for the call," Derek grumbled out, claws extending instantly as he slashed at a sturdy section of root and pulled it free.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "You heard the man."

***

You paced about the sparsely furnished loft space that belonged to Derek. There was yellow police tape discarded next to the entrance. A large window with no curtains provided most of the light in the open-plan apartment.

Derek tossed his phone on the counter, a sigh leaving his lips. "That was Scott. It worked. Now it's our turn."

"Do you think they'll make it out okay?" your voice was shaky, worry keeping you on edge.

"We can't worry about that now," Derek walked over and stretched out his hand expectantly.

You swallowed hard, a ball forming in your throat as you tried to unclasp your necklace with shaky fingers.

Derek squeezed your fingers, "Let me."

You spun around, focused on counting the number of bricks on the wall whilst he removed your necklace. His thumb brushed the back of your neck lightly and then he walked away to stash the necklace in a sealed ziplock bag, tossing it in a drawer for extra measure.

"And now?" you said after you had counted all the bricks on that stretch of wall.

"We hope Scott and Liam can take a few hits and stop any stragglers from coming our way while we..." Peter kicked his feet up and lounged on a leather couch, "Wait."

You stared down at the yellow tape, sorely aware of how tense the room was.

You did the one thing you hated doing in such instances, you made with small talk, "So… you still wanted for murder?"

Markus's head snapped up from his phone, nose no longer red. His attention was drawn towards Derek who was leaning against the kitchen island -his nose also no longer red.

"Alleged murder," he held up one hand to reassure your brother. "And, yeah, in four counties actually."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do if we survive this? I mean… you can't live on the run forever, can you?" you pressed your palms together tightly using your knees to keep from anxiously bouncing on your feet as you sat on the opposite couch to Peter’s.

"If we survive, that'll be just one of the many things I'll have to cross off my to-do list," he retorted.

Markus squinted before sitting up straight, hands clapping together once, "That's why you look so familiar. You were on the news some months ago. Manhunt in--"

"Shh!" Peter shot up quickly.

"I hear it too," Derek said hurriedly as he vaulted over the counter and pulled you behind him, stake in hand.

Right then, an arrow pierced through his large window and shattered the glass. The sharp point dug into the wooden floorboard a few inches to the left of where you'd been standing.

Here we go again.

"Okay boys," Peter cracked his neck before extending his fangs. "Once more with feeling!"

All three of them were all glowing eyes, long claws and wolfish snarls. You raced behind the kitchen island and ducked behind it for cover but no new arrows whistled through the air.

Just then, Astrid barrelled in in through the window, her nose raised high as she sniffed at the air, fangs extended. Her claws were longer than all the men's and her eyes glowed a deeper blue than Derek's or Peter's. Come to think of it, Markus was the only one in the room with red eyes.

Astrid clicked her tongue several times, one long-clawed finger swaying from the left to right, "I knew something was afoul when you weren't with the True Alpha and his rageful beta.” She turned to stare daggers at you, “Alyster will be pleased I found you and after I kill all three of your wolves, I'll deliver you to him." Her accent was heavy, Scandinavian. You realised this was the first time you'd heard her speak English.

“It is your time now,” Astrid pointed at you, a grin on her face.

Peter laughed.

Astrid’s eyes twitched, "What is so funny?" she demanded.

"The fact you thought it would be that easy," he replied like he knew the punchline to a joke she didn’t.

Astrid took a step closer, her claws slicing through the air. Peter leaned back with perfect timing.

"Now!" Derek growled.

Theo burst out of a hiding spot holding a jar of black ash and chucked a whole fist full of it at a broken circle on the floor. An impregnable ring forming around them while the other men in the room tried to hold the rabid Astrid down. You dashed back to the drawer Derek had stashed your necklace in and quickly clipped it back on.

"Mountain ash!" Astrid screamed in anger.

Like a volatile typhoon, Astrid took on all three men, her long claws slashing deep and wide. Blood soaked through torn clothes and your ears were deafened by the piercing howls and deep growls that vibrated off larynxes. Markus lifted his stake when he got an opening, but Derek held his hand at bay.

"No!" Derek stated bluntly.

Markus stared in confusion, not about to let one of the people that'd nearly killed his sister survive.

Peter took the brunt of Astrid's attacks while Derek and Markus were forced in a stand-off.

"Get out of my way!" Your brother shouted, twisting his arm free from Derek's hold

"We need her alive!" Derek shouted back, replacing his hold with his other hand. “For now.”

"Can we argue about this later?" Peter spoke through bloody teeth.

"Rahhh!" Astrid shouted as she lodged her claws into Peter's side, a scream ringing out.

You gasped, taking a step forward.

Derek got distracted by the sound for a fraction of a second, but it was all it took for Astrid to sink her claws into his back and lift him up over her head.

"Derek!" you screamed as you rushed forward, body impaired by the force field of blue light that flooded your vision when you collided with the mountain ash barrier.

Derek spat out a splotch of coppery scented blood as she threw him onto the ground, hard. The sound of his jaw breaking made the floorboards shake. Markus wasted no time and imbedded his stake in her spine. Astrid screeched, dark veins rising up to become visible around her neck and temple.

"Omöjligt..." she whispered as she collapsed onto the ground. Her eyes still open and her chest still moving. He hadn't killed her, but Markus had successfully immobilised her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. No!" Peter panicked over Derek's bloody and sliced form. His wounds healing, albeit not fast enough. "What the hell were you thinking?" he glared at Markus with bared fangs.

Markus answered matter-of-factly, "Protecting my pack."

You whimpered when you saw black oozing from Derek's wounds.

That wasn't good.

"If he dies…" Peter whispered low and sinister. Then he snapped up at you and Theo when Derek grunted weakly, "Break the seal damn it!"

Theo broke the circle with the dragging of his heel and a wave of blue energy rippled out. Faster than you’d ever seen him move before, Peter carried Derek to his couch.

Upon seeing the blood and smelling the copper, your veterinary skills kicking in. You ran to Derek's side and steeled your nerves before slicing the knife across his shirt and exposing his chest. Peter slumped down next to you, eyes serious.

"Help me tie her up," Theo asked for Markus's assistance as he hoisted Astrid onto a chair, binding her hands in rope.

The black veins had spread and her skin was beginning to wrinkle and prune. The tips of her fingers discolouring to a dark purple as one of her nails slipped off from the crown with no opposition.

"Eugh!" Theo grimaced in disgust as he held back a gag. "Uh, man! I th- think she's- she's starting to decompose. Rapidly."

Markus blocked his nose as a new stench wafted through the air.

You could smell it too. It was so strong it made your eyes nearly water.

"Whatever magic keeps her alive, the root from the Nematon must be sapping her dry. You were right," Markus assessed.

"Whatever you needed her alive for, you better do it quick," Theo urged as his cheeks filled with air from a repressed gag.

"Fools…" Astrid spat, a tooth slowly dislodging from her blackening gums. "We can't die!”

"Yeah, well you aren't looking very alive either," Theo coughed out from behind his palm, trying to keep from breathing in her ghastly scent.

Astrid carried on, “One always takes our place. We’re divine soldiers. A champion must always exist as long as the First Coming still lives."

“The First Coming? You mean the plague?” Markus pumped her for information.

Astrid huffed. She smelled like a gangrene infested wound, septic and infected, “The First Coming isn’t a sickness. She is a woman of unparalled power. Only her own magic can imprisson her. Only the blood of the tainted will keep her at bay. When there are none of the ex alia left she will bring about the end of the world. ”

You ignored Astrid’s discomforting words and felt all over across Derek's back, running over the imperfect triskelion. Padded fingers forced black ichor to cascade out from circular holes torn through flesh. Derek's eyelashes fluttered in pain and all you saw were the whites of his eyes. He was too quiet. Too slack. It was unbearable to see him like this, but you had to focus.

You wouldn't let what happened to Alex happen again.

Not to Derek.

"Peter, get me a sharper knife and some alcohol!" You ordered while examining the claw marks more closely. "Markus get me better light. Theo check to see if any of Astrid's claws broke off her fingers."

Displeased, Theo tried to look over Astrid's fingers as carefully as he could, his face sneered in disgust as he held back more gags. When he tried to lift a finger up gently the interphalangeal joint came right off, skin and flesh peeling away freely.

"Eugh! Gross! They keep sliding off like… like fucking butter, I can't- It's too-" He retched dropping Astrid’s severed finger bit like he just lost at a game of hot potato.

Markus scrambled to collect every lamp he could find and place it closer to you while Peter arrived with the whole cutlery tray ripped out of the drawer. Peter unscrewed the cap off the bottle of scotch and held it out for you.

You took a swig and then another and then poured some over Derek's scraped back. Derek shuddered, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Unresponsive to pain, he was going into shock.

You pulled out a butter knife, doused it in alcohol and started digging around Derek's first cut, barking at Theo with authority, "You're just gonna have to deal with it, Theo! Just keep checking!"

Peter picked up the bottle of scotch and took a few swigs himself.

Astrid started laughing, her voice growing hoarse with each chorus, one of her teeth fell out and Theo winced, dodging the discarded enamel.

"Wait, you're right!" Theo shouted when he looked over her other hand. "One of her claws is broken in half! Among other things…"

"That's why he isn't healing," you bit down, resigning yourself to breathe only through your nostrils as you concentrated hard on your task. "I just have to get it out in tim- Shit!" You wiped sweat away with a blood-stained hand.

"What? What is it?" Peter leaned closer.

"I think it punctured his heart..." you stammered, more tears welling in your eyes. You chased them away with a loud clearing of your throat.

Peter dropped the scotch bottle, the glass shattering and spilling amber liquid everywhere. Then, leaving you with no time to react, he lunged at your brother and the two struggled against one another.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop it! You two can fight it out if he… dies. But not while he's still breathing!" Your shout echoed in the loft.

They all stilled, even Astrid. You returned your attention back to Derek.

You had cleaned Derek's wounds as best you could, but Astrid's claw had pierced too deep into his heart. You were afraid you'd simply send Derek off to a far quicker death if you pulled it out. Maybe that would be a mercy, considering his state now.

Derek's body was burning way past the normal temperatures of any human fever. Almost like he was fighting off an infection. His skin was damp and his wounds not yet healed –that scared you. You compressed his larger cuts with the rags of his shirt, but there wasn't much else to do but wait.

Wait and watch him die.

You sniffled several times, trying to keep from progressing to full-on crying. Your heart heavy and your stomach twisting on itself.

"Theo, go to Scott, you can do more for him there. Take Markus with you. He isn't wanted here," Peter said without looking up from his nephew's dying form.

Markus took a step forward, "If you think I'm leaving my sister alone with yo--"

"Go with him," you said softly, not looking up from the blood-soaked rag. "I'll be fine."

Astrid was getting worse too. Her skin had turned leathery now, as though she was mummifying. Her eyes dulled in colour as cataracts formed over her filmy eyeballs. She couldn't see even though her eyes were wide open.

Peter picked himself off the floor and grabbed Derek's stake off the ground.

"What are you going to do with that?" you asked with no emotion. You knew exactly what he was going to do, you just didn't want to go forward with something unsaid.

"I'm going to save my nephew," he said through gritted teeth and he moved over to kneel next to Astrid. "Tell me how to save him!" he barked in her ear. From the way she didn’t react, you guessed her eardrums were the next to go in her decay cycle.

Her head craned too far back, popping sounds emanating from her sagging neck, "You're too late. Kill me. Don't kill me. It doesn't matter. It's up to him now,” one of her fingers pointed at Derek before falling clean off.

Peter growled before stabbing one of Astrid's bony legs under her now baggy armour.

She wheezed in pain.

Peter tilted his head to the side, twisting the stake in her tough, meatless leg, "Tell. Me. How!"

Astrid's jaw pulled wide as she tried to hold back a scream, a rip forming at the corner of her mouth.

"Peter stop!" You stood and pulled the stake out of her leg. "We aren't monsters."

His eyes flashed blue and he backed you away from him with a frightening snarl, canines chomping at the air close to your face, "That's where you're wrong. I am a monster!"

In lightning-quick movements, Peter pushed the stake into Astrid's heart and her whole body began to shrivel.

Between straggled breaths from burst air sacs, Astrid raised her head towards the light of the full moon, a melancholic smile crossing her dehydrated face. With what little life she had left, she whispered words not meant for anyone in this room, "I det här livet och nästa. Jag kommer se dig igen. Min kärlek..."

Then her head went limp, falling to her deflated chest as the ropes slipped off her body. Astrid was no more and in her place was a pathetic mummified corpse steadily turning to dust. Then she was nothing.

Suddenly, and violently, the weather changed. The wind grew tumultuous, a horrifically sharp scream carried with it. In the distant, lighting struck down in unnatural and frequent bursts of light. Somewhere in the dark clouds, a tornado began to swirl.

You and Peter ignored the chaos happening right outside the window. The two of you were locked in your own personal pandemoniums.

"Pull out the claw," Peter said darkly, having made up his mind.

"It's too close to his heart. If I-"

Peter's nose almost touched your own. His clawed fingers wrapping around your neck to pull you close, "His condition is only getting worse. Pull out the claw. If he's going to die, it's going to be quick. Put him out of his misery."

You shoved Peter away, but you knew, deep down, it would be the humane thing to do. And now you knew you had definitely gone insane if you were agreeing with Peter Hale.

“You just had to make me say I told you so,” he said bitterly, a tear streaming down his face. “Just like your mother.”

You knelt next to Derek, trembling fingers grazing his paling flesh. As you wrapped your hands around the tweezers gripping the claw, you whispered in his ear, "You said it took someone of tremendous resolve to go through what I've been through and have survived. I also believe it takes someone of great resolve to go through what you go through every day and still have the courage to wake up every morning. I admire that about you. I believe you still have some fight left, Derek… and I need you to survive this… because… because I have a question to ask you."

With a solemn teardrop, you pulled the claw out of his heart and crumbled to the floor, palms pressed together as you and Peter held your breaths.  

An otherworldly green glimmer shone from inside Derek's open wound.

Finale!>>

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[demytasse]

[Shizaya] Coping Mechanism — Ch 7

[Previous Chapters | Ao3]     Without so much as a drumroll reveal, Shizuo looked at their shrouded meal with abject horror, as though he already knew the innards of the boxed food. Widened eyes, invisible sweat, he suffered from the bane of a psychic's foresight, somehow incapable of receiving the gift as a surprise. In actuality it was the scent of specific spices that he was experienced enough with to separate the smell from stale apartment air.

    “She made curry.”

Experienced, because Shizuo seemed to have trauma attached to the dish, which the sight scrunched Izaya’s nose as he struggled to recall something. A shared memory, or that’s what he felt it might be, one that he should know like a favourite meal — because it was one of his —the meal— and he hadn’t eaten it for quite some time. Izaya struggled to peel the lid off the plasticware, simultaneously struggled to keep his focus on Shizuo’s expression as he did, his hope to gain insight play-by-play. Thoroughly to the end, it was identical horror that remained his reaction even when the prediction was confirmed.

     “Well isn't that a treat.” When he peered down at box cradled in his hands he smiled partially. “Namie-san makes delicious traditional brown curry.”

     “I know.”

Disgust poisoned his lips.

     Oh boy...

     “Hm? Why the resentful tone, Shizu-chan?”

    “Don't play innocent!”

    “I can’t play if it’s not an act. Consider that I don’t always have something up my sleeve.” He showed off a naked wrist, his cuff that was gathered at his elbow.

    Shizuo regarded it as evidence that waived off criminal charges, but was disgruntled with the verdict. “Maybe I'm the only one who remembers 'cause I was the one who couldn't live up to your standards.”

Did Shizuo really remember something he didn’t, or was it that he pulled at his strings? Izaya studied the curry from vegetable chunk to protein, the rich cedar to the darkened ring around the edge; individual ingredients each acted a recollection of the last time he indulged — the sprig of garnish that he often discarded was the sinker of what line Shizuo cast to fish for.

“Ahh,” Izaya drew out grimly, “you made me curry once, didn't you?”

—

    “Oh Shizu-chan, I think even the roux, rues the day it tasted this curry.” Izaya addressed the toasted flour mixture that separated itself from broth, dripped from the spoon to add gloss back from where it came.

    “It's inspired; smokey, but only because it was burned. Spiced, but not well and probably a cover for your flubbed ratio.”

    Fingers wrapped around the granite counter, flexed, but considered not to damage the surface as an unconscious favour. “What the hell!? I make you goddamn curry and all you can do is critique it?!”     “I thought you’d want constructive feedback.”

    “Feedback? That's constructive feedback? Sounds like you're needlessly harsh of my cooking, like you're protective of a lover and their shitty food,” Shizuo muted his tongue, temporarily numbed his ability to use it, “or something.”

    Izaya dropped his spoon and fed a cackle to his laugh. “A lover? You think me and Namie-san…?”

    “Yeah, okay,” Shizuo raked his bangs back, “maybe… Maybe I'm paranoid.”

    “Just because we had a one night stand hardly means I’m primed to cheat, Shizu-chan.”

    The glossed stone creaked out in mercy as Shizuo got bested by confirmation bias.“You two slept together?”

    “Once.”

    “When?”

    “Jealous are we?”

    “Fucking when!?” He slammed his hands down and rattled tabled utensils and troubled thoughts.

    Izaya eased himself back for an escape. “Sometime between you wanting me hospitalised and you personally wanting to bury me six-feet under. No matter; about the time she gave me head, the only one you wanted was mine on a platter.”

    “Fuck you.”

    “Well, you didn't want to…” he wryly added.

    “Why the hell didn't you tell me? Why the hell is she still your secretary?”

    “One, it never came up. Two, she most assuredly pictured me as her brother, so what does that tell you? Three,” he added a thumb to his presented peace sign, “you never told me about your fling with that Vorona chick, but I never questioned your faithfulness.”

    “...oh…” The evidence recoiled Shizuo, foiled his argument with a bullet of truth; taken to the chest and slumped him further into a leatherback barstool. He put more wear into the kitchen furniture than it would’ve procured in its lifetime.

Izaya held the rack of his trepidatious nerves while he searched for any sign of hostility he should be wary of; all he found was a hint of jealousy that dissolved into regret, swirled around his lip curled strong and circled his heavy eyes.

    “So can we move on and go get take out? I'll treat you to whatever your heart desires.” Izaya forced himself to add soft consolation to his demand as he rolled his eyes and rose; he pushed his seat in prematurely, desperate to leave the offensive curry behind.

    Shizuo was stone in his slump, “I'm not hungry.”

    A click of his tongue and Izaya was already on his way out. “What a bother you can be.”

—

    “I wanted to try my luck at the dish you loved so much. Make it just like she made it.”

    “Well, I understand that now. Though you did unfairly accuse me. A tad bit overreacted.” Izaya rebutted poignantly.

    “Because you were an asshole!”

    Izaya flicked the tip of Shizuo’s nose, “because that’s reason to believe I cheated. Besides, was I more of an asshole than normal? You should expect that I’ll act that way.” He never had the blunt force that his partner did — rather his ex, but it snapped Shizuo out of his funk all the same, a chuckle just at the back of his throat.

    “We kinda messed that up.”

    “Shizu-chan, we messed a lot of things up, not even just this.” A flash of anxiety struck his features. “But that's our thing: we fight, we fuck, we fuck things up.”

    “We do.” Shizuo nodded before he shook his head in dismay.

    “But you know what's not fucked up?”

    “Hm?”

Izaya preceded his response with the taste he tested off his finger, a healthy amount of a congealed glob he swiped from the container.

    “This curry.”

    “Oh, shut up! How good could a flea's taste buds be?”

A duplicate crinkle adorned their eyes as they loosened up to the idea that the other was their dinner date. They both decided with a silent nod: their food held no significance other than their current satiation. It was anti-climatic and easier than expected, so they grasped at the chance to move on, now with a check that marked off their progress on a laundry list of conflict.

—

    Their knees were set two inches apart from being uncomfortable as they leaned into their conversation. Colourful and boisterous, they exchanged nothings and happenstances; expended their backlog of stories they'd kept fresh, in hopes that one day they could share them with the other — with Izaya's beautiful monologues for Shizuo, and Shizuo's stroll through vignettes for Izaya. Light and sweet, it threatened to run their wells dry before they could add more to prevent future boredom.

    “...even Tom was pissed.” Shizuo favoured the right side of the ceiling to pluck details from his memory. “He pushed me back an’ yelled right in the bastard’s face.”

    “That's cute, Shizu-chan. Oddly a relief,” Izaya held out a spoon before him, full up on rice and less curry.

    “A relief, eh?” He edged forward to blow steam off the surface, his hand cupped below the gap of another.

    “Seems I don't have to worry about my bodyguard now that he finally has his own bodyguard.”

Shizuo stole his offered bite just to hold the moment that they were connected by proxy; he let the curved metal shape his lips. Perhaps they noticed the slip-up Izaya made of ownership, like it was still his to claim — as if it never wasn't. They acted ignorant of the glitch in his program.

All the while, a particular glisten gathered at the corner of Shizuo's eye; a type of saline Izaya recognised as a product of relieved humour. It was subtle, the difference between what he himself willed back and what the other man let show, but the similarities made it an endearing shared reaction.

Suddenly aware of Shizuo's ridiculous position the two separated — a spoon protracted, the blond fully weighed his chair down, but words continued on after only a short pause.

    “As if I needed one,” he smirked.

    Izaya hummed for him to reconsider, “debt collecting is a dangerous job, what with those horny idiots who can't keep it in their pants, much more their wallet in their pockets.”

    “That's true.”

    “I often speak the truth.”

They brushed knees; the minor touch was warmer than what kneecaps should provide, rather it transposed emotion, wafted over their connection like Summer air. There was a spark that hadn’t shocked them months prior, even further days in the past. At their beginning it was frigid, but also a comfort to share their freezer space, with hands occasionally clutched as a sign that they were trying.

Now, though, it was hard to ignore the spill of kinetic energy that tickled their fingertips and resonated up to burn their cheeks.

    “...I missed this.”

    “What exactly?”

    “Us chattin’,” Shizuo shrugged, careful not to wrench them apart, “your wit.”

    “Oh~? I distinctly remember you making snide remarks about it on several occasions.” Izaya swallowed his own bite, barely able to breathe before Shizuo suggested his piled up cutlery like a comrade smoker that shared his lighter.

Politely, Izaya shook his head, held up a hand that asked for pause; hesitated when Shizuo pressed a little further — eventually gave in. Especially, he savoured the flavour.

    “It wasn't that often.”

    “I mean it was weekly, Shizuo. It was several times weekly.”

    “Doesn't that mean you used witticisms too much?”

    “Woah!” Izaya brightened. “That's my boy, upping his banter game!” He motioned to applaud, but a smashed potato to his mouth beat pride to the punch.

    “God, you're an annoying pest.”

    Izaya sputtered the spud; it sounded much like an intentional spit take. With the back of his hand he cleaned starchy specks from his mouth, “likewise, kettle-chan.”

    Shizuo smudged the final fleck from Izaya's lip with his thumb. “Whatever, pot-kun.”

—

AN: Likes and comments are appreciated. I adore them and they’re always a boost to my mood. If you enjoyed this chapter, reblogs are an immense help as they get more eyes on my work. I say this shamelessly for myself and other fanfic writers — we have a hard time getting noticed and I ain’t too proud to beg for our lot. uwu ♡ ☆ Thank you so much for reading! ☆

[My other works]

[the-mira-life-project-mtf]

Hair...Issues! (My MtF~HRT Journey)

One of the decisions you can make for yourself (not influenced by hormones) is allowing your hair to grow out on your scalp.

FAMILY INFLUENCES

All of my life, I have kept my hair short because my career required it. Also, prior to my transition...I was raised in a military-style family, so all men were required to keep their hair short! I recall when I was just a child, trying to adjust to my transgender nature by allowing my hair to grow and I got about two inches when I was forced to have it all cut off. It was tradition and expectations that you had to live by (living with a Korean War vet can be difficult!).

After my grandfather passed away, the rules relaxed and I found that two inches of growth was about the maximum until my family would harp and vocalize their displease. Even during the first nine months of my transgender therapy, I battled with my up-brings, past career expectations and the generalization that ‘successful’ men had short, neat, hair. It wasn’t until this year that I decided that Mira did not have short hair, and after my adoptive family’s wedding in January of 2019, I ceased all ‘cutting’ of my hair and with it being now being six months...I have made history! This is the longest and ‘longest’ I have ever gone with out a haircut.

I am hoping that by the time of my SRS, my hair will be at its desirable length. Already I have had to re-learn how to manage my hair...hence this blog post: Hair...Issues!

CHANGING HAIR CARE

One of my first changes I had to make in my 10th month of HRT was learning that a comb is useless when you have long, thick hair. Luckily I was gifted with fast growing, thick and silky hair...it is a family trait. All my life I have only combed my hair (or because it was so short...ignored it). Back in June of 2019, I would continue trying to comb my hair is it became utterly painful and pointless. My hair was just to thick for a comb and the comb itself was to flimsy!

So I had to go shopping for a hair brush...but what to get? My mother and sister use these large ‘shell-like’ brushes, my adoptive sister and mother use a thinner bristle-like brush. So I did not know what to get...and the options were numerous. So I picked up this:

You would think that using a hair brush is pretty straight forward...and it is...to a point. It is styling that takes time...and I have been testing many styles to see which one I like. For example, a style I rarely use is in the picture at the beginning of this blog. Hair back is something my mom and sister do and even my adoptive mother adapts most of the time...but my hair does not like to be conditioned in this format.

My unconscious conditioning of my hair is as above...broken down the middle with half going right and half going left. This was the hair style I have kept all my life...and is part of the ‘mental-idea’ that Mira is suppose to have...except she also has bangs in front, but at this moment, my bang hang over my eyes and nose...and having hair in your eyes is surprisingly painful! I certainly will have to decide what I am going to do with my bangs. Do I allow them to continue growing and sweep them aside as I do now or trim them to my brow? Bang’s take a long time to grow (including the forward sides over the temples, which seem to take forever!).

GROWTH PATTERNS

A word to the wise for any MtF individuals out there. When you decide to grow out your hair, I found the hair in the back grows the quickest, then the hair on top of the head, the bangs grow the third fastest (if you grow on two inches of hair, your bangs might only grow .5-1 inch). Lastly, the hair just front of the ears and behind the ears seems to grow the slowest. I had this area shaved in January of 2019 (before my final decision to let my hair grow, unimpeded) and it has only grown 3 inches since then. My bangs being 5.5 inches long and hair in the back being 6 inches long!

 (4-25-2018) This was taken just prior to my hormone replacement therapy; and I can only wonder long much longer my hair would have been if I did not cut it three times since starting my transition.

 (7-15-2019) Almost one year into my transition, my hair has most certainly have grown longer and surprisingly, as the months go by, it is also changing color. It has gone from dark brown to a brown/grey mixture with the hair over my temples being almost blonde. Ironically, light brown/blonde highlights is what I always envisioned myself having. So seeing the early stages of this transformation is amazing...I just am wondering...for eight years of my life, my hair was blonde/white (could that color be coming back?) Then again, I was deathly sick in those early years and as the cystic fibrosis makes every year now a milestone, my hair-color seems to be in the process of early graying. Then again, I was graying when I was in my 20s!

Nevertheless, it is amazing to watch my body transform into what I always felt it was suppose to be and watch something as simple as hair make dramatic changes; not only in color, but also texture.

CHANGING TEXTURE & COLOR

Now, many sites will say that switching from male to female does not affect the ‘condition’ of the scalp hair; but in my experience, I don’t find that statement to be exactly accurate or true. Prior to my HRT, it isn’t uncommon to have a low count of estrogen in your blood and normal ranges of testosterone in the blood. For men in their 30s, the over production of DHT causes hair loss on the scalp, while the male hormone thickens the body hair until the testosterone levels drop and body hair begins to thin. We expect in FtM patients taking testosterone to notice a slowing of hair growth, and a increase of facial hair and body hair. By their 30s, they might begin experiencing hair loss (which is common in menopausal women in their 60s).

So if body hair patterns are determined by sex hormone and genetics, a patient who is male-to-female should expect seeing rapid hair growth and decreased hair growth over their body.

For one year, I have been on finasteride, to stop my DHT from furthering my hair loss on the front part of the scalp. Now, a few patients have claimed that finasteride had thickening their hair count by 10%; but I can not contest to those statistics as I started with abnormally thick hair. A few MfF patients also claim that finasteride and hormone therapy has started regeneration of damaged hair; I however have not been that lucky. If my regrowth was represented in a percentage, I’d say 3 percent. And the hair that did regrow is pure white.

As for the texture of my hair. I find it to be silky, but not oily as I was expecting. My hair has always been thin, which made styling a nightmare when it was short, but now, it seems to prefer a wavy pattern...but most of the time it just flies away! Over the months, I’ve noticed that the longer it becomes, the lighter it becomes. I am considering coloring to blend the lighter shades...however, I have no idea where the auburn color came from! I never had a hue of red before and now I seem to be taking on my sisters color of possibly strawberry blonde (although she has darken to a dark auburn in color).

If I am to add color to my hair, it would be to add more grey and blondes to even out the front blonding hair and the two-tone hair in the back. But at this moment, I am just fine with observing the changes and curious what colors I will end up with. 

CURRENT STYLE

Currently, I have found a new style to keep my hair out of my eyes. For a few months, I’ve done my best to tolerate the bangs, but when I am outside and working, they fall into my eyes and obscure my vision. I first tried using clips, however, my hair is to silky for the clips to hold into place and I end up with hair and a clip in the eyes! Tried pins, but like the clips, it would not hold in place and slipped out with a few minutes. I was almost ready to butch cut the bangs myself for relief, but saw one of my ear-warmers I use in the winter when we had 3 feet of snow on the ground...and it worked wonders!

Wanting something more fashionable, I went to Bi-Mart to look at their hair products and looked at their hair bands and saw a picture of a lady with her hair swept back, the band keeping it out of her eyes and the product said ‘great for gym workouts’ and I was sold. I would try this product and see how it went. As seen in the image above and at the start of this blog, it comes interchangeable. With three colors: mosaic, light blue and navy blue. Two week later, my mother bought me a set of hairbands (orange, blue and white) and then three days before the fourth of July, I bought a red/white/blue headband.

I found my style! Lexie, my adoptive sister and one who has given me many fashion tips, told me that she too at one time used hairbands to restrain her hair, but found that it caused her hair to take on embarrassing styles and stopped using them. I understand what she means, I too have noticed that the bands do compress part of my hair while causing some hair to go upward. The second issue I’ve noticed that when I sweat (which isn’t hard for a CFer!), the band slips off. I am still learning techniques of placing the band in my hair to function the best...but so far, I am happy!

NEW ISSUE...

So, a new issue I am about to have to tackle is ‘what do I do with all this hair while I swim?’ I got my first taste of what is to come about a month ago when I was swimming underwater using a glide and dolphin kick and noticed that my hair kept getting in my face. Most of the time I don’t use goggles as I can see quite well underwater, however, the hair makes it difficult.

I really don’t want to have to use a swim cap and am thinking that the best solution in the long-term is to keep my bangs short and tie down my hair with something line vine or lashing. The other solution is: Get use to it! Wear’em goggles!

So far, I have not been back to the pool in about one month as I still am trying to mentally adjust after my last ordeal at the Silverdale YMCA. I want (I need) to get back into the water...when you have dreams of swimming, you know you need to go back!

In conclusion, to all the male-to-female transitioning individuals out there, don’t be afraid to experiment and enjoy the process. The one thing I have learned about my transformation is that it is a one-way trip...every pain, every change is all leading to a lifetime of discovery. Like the horrors of puberty, it is a moment in our lives where we literally transform from one creature and into another. The same is with MtF and FtM: this is your second puberty! We all get to experience something that 90 percent of the population will never...living to our fullest potential, becoming the person we want to be and not the person we are expected to me.

   -- Mira Carleen

[hyperwrites]

The Scars That Make Him: Chapter 1

Ao3

Stiles is ten when he and his dad moves to Beacon Hills. He is freshly without a mother, and arrives with an ugly scar marring his face. It starts directly under his right nostril, trails with a slight angle over his mouth and under his chin and then directly opposes the angle just to the right of his Adams’ apple. It follows the curve of it and continues straight down to his right collarbone, where it bumps over it and stops just a centimeter under the hard just of it. This is the only scar visible for all to see. He hates it’s origins, hates what it remind him of and what he’s lost. He wears it with a strange pride regardless, the pride shown only in survivors of terrible things. A pride to old for a ten year old to wear so confidently, like an old friend or familiar companion.

Stiles is only ten when his life changes, when his innocence is lost forever to the cruel mistress of human life.

___

The waxing gibbous moon shines bright over the treetops. Fate has her plans tonight, a destiny unwritten but well known that must be met. She sets it into motion with a simple push of wind on old wood, and a doorway opens in the Stilinski household. An old but loyal dog escapes into the dark, and the young Stilinski follows suit. He calls up help from the asthmatic McCall, loyal in his own, selfish, way. The two souls venture into the forest. Though the circumstances are different, they do not search for torn and shredded bodies; they do not separate as late as they should, the outcome will never change. The Stilinski child stumbles upon his loyal dog and the search party led by his father, and the McCall is nearly trampled and certainly bitten by a wolf.

___

Stiles slips out of his blue and trusty jeep, sweet sweet Betty, followed quickly by four-legged Roscoe. Today the dog wears his blue vest, matching the blue flannel showing under Stiles deep green hoodie. As usual, there is no leash in sight, despite the school’s requirement for one. They have long overlooked the fact, Roscoe has been around as long as Stiles himself has. They wait for Scott to arrive at school, Stiles’ idly petting the brown fur of Roscoe’s head as they sit on the steps. Scott’s beat up bike arrives not long after.

Stiles feels himself smile at his friends arrival, quickly ignoring the uncomfortable but familiar stretch it brings to his scar tissue. The thing is no longer the obvious shock-white it had been when it first appeared, but it remains an obvious lighter shade to his skin, and easily splits three of his moles into jagged halves. He turns his mind to Scott’s tale of the night before, apparently his friend had found the body his father was looking for, but lost his inhaler in the process. The claims of a wolf bite, however, are absolutely ridiculous.

“Look, Scotty, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it literally can’t be a wolf.” “Stiles, you weren’t there, I know what I saw.” “There aren’t wolves in California dude, haven’t been for 60 years.” “Oh.”

Scott looks defeated at the news, most likely bummed his bitten-by-a-wolf story is now a much more boring bitten-by-a-dog one. Stiles doesn’t try to lift his friends feelings, knowing far better than to try the impossible. Instead he distracts Scott with the beginning of the Fall Semester, and with it, Lacrosse Try-outs. He himself knows that his spot at bench-warmer is guaranteed, and he certainly isn’t going to attempt to get a field position. But Scott wants to get first line this year, and so Stiles will gladly support his inane idea, no matter are far-out and impossible they are.

Things only get weird though. Roscoe is acting strange around Scott, suspiciously submissive around the teen, and Scott as a weird moment in English were he offers the new girl (He thinks her name is Allison) a pen he had no previous clue to her even needing. It only get’s worse, with Scott seeming to completely ignore him and Madison in the hall, somehow hearing what Allison and Lydia are talking about despite them being more then 10 feet away and whispering. Something is up with Scott McCall and Stiles is going to get to the bottom of it.

___

It’s so much weirder at Lacrosse Try-outs. Scott gets chosen to play goalie while everyone (minus Stiles) throws goal-shots at him. Scott catches his first one, in fact, he catches them all. Even Jackson’s. If he didn’t know better, he would assume steroids or some other athletic enhancement drug, but he does. Scott’s as innocent as a butterfly, would never even accidentally do drugs. So something fishy is going on. Scott doesn’t even seem concerned though, simply ecstatic that all his practicing actually worked. Stiles knows though, without a doubt, that his practicing at best would have only gotten him to second line and nowhere near first.

He, unfortunately, doesn’t get a word in edgewise with all of Scott’s rambling about Allison and finally getting his life together. He would almost say that Scott is talking more than even Stiles could, but he’s fully aware of how carried away he can get. Before he knows it, him and Scott are back out in the woods looking for Scott’s inhaler. Those things aren’t cheap, and while Stiles has a backup for Scott, he would rather not waste it if he can avoid it. Roscoe trots dutifully in front of them, leading the way while he and Scott finally have proper conversation.

“Maybe it was a werewolf dude.” Scott balks at the idea, no imagination whatsoever bumping around in his noggin. “Yeah, right. Because werewolves totally exist.”

Except, Stiles actually thinks about it. Scott had told him he could literally hear Allison while she as outside the school building. It would be one thing if she’d been outside the classroom door, or right near the windows, but apparently she had been on the other side of the courtyard when Scott reported hearing her. That plus the sudden athletic prowess and suspicious lack of asthma attacks or just wheezy breath- werewolves are looking kind of plausible right now. Scott isn’t even limping or favoring his side like he had been that morning, when his bite wound had only been hours old. Stiles would bet his jeep that the “dog bite” was gone or quickly on its way there. He’s about to seriously suggest the idea to Scott when the sudden voice of Derek motherfucking Hale spooks the ever loving shit out of him.

“This is Private Property.”

Roscoe immediately returns to Stiles side at his surprise, and Stiles instinctively places a hand onto the dogs soft forehead. Scott doesn’t jolt at all, though he does look mildly surprised. Stiles momentarily squints his eyes at his friend, clearly remembering that Scott is just as jumpy as he is normally.

“Are you deaf? I said this is private property, so leave.”

Derek’s voice rings out again, and Stiles feels a bit of irritation at the presumption tone the Hale uses. He turns his squinty gaze to the older teen, full intensity locked onto his chiseled face.

“Actually, the county reclaimed about a year ago- after all there were no able-bodied Hales living here.”

It’s a low blow- and Stiles really hate pointing it out, especially in such manner and tone. He knows all about losing loved ones, even if it’s not to the scale of what Derek must of lost. But the older teen is getting on his nerves and needs to be knocked down a peg or two, he and Scott have every right to be there. (Somehow though, Stiles still feels like what Derek said is true. How despite the legal nature of who owns the land, it will always belong to the Hale’s). Derek scowls at him, clearly not happy with his words or tone no matter how true they are. Something about Derek sends warning bells off in Stiles’ head, and he and Roscoe seem to shift into high alert at the same time. The change brings Derek’s attention to the German Sheppard by Stiles side, and Stiles absolutely hates the calculating gaze behind the green eyes. “Sorry man- we were just looking for my inhaler, I dropped around here last night.”

Scott’s words bring Derek’s attention back to the two of them, and Stiles relaxes a little without the scrutinizing glare on his dog. Derek’s eyes seem to narrow even more, glare becoming almost deadly sharp, and Stiles is very glad that eye’s can’t actually cut anything, or he and Scott would need some medical care. Derek throws something at Scott, too fast for Stiles to really process what he’s throwing or that he even moved at all until after it’s done. Scott, however, managed to catch the thing with ease, holding it against his chest for all of a second before looking to see what it was. It’s revealed to be the inhaler in question, and Stiles idly wonders how Scott managed to catch something moving so fast when not even days ago he couldn’t he catch something going much slower. Of course, he’s pretty sure he knows the answer already.

Derek looks unimpressed, but the calculating look is back in his eyes. Stiles narrows his own in turn, no liking at all what that could mean for Scott. If he’s right about the werewolf thing, it could mean that Derek is also a werewolf, or even a hunter. Because if werewolves turn out to be real then it would be a no-brainer to assume that werewolf hunters are also a thing that exist.

“Leave.”

Derek’s tone brokers no room for argument, so before Scott can get uppity about being told what to do, Stiles wisely leads him the fuck outta there. He briskly walks them away, trying to put some distance between them and Derek Maybe A Werewolf Hale. He has no clue if he’s right about this, but on the off-chance he is and the super senses are a regular werewolf think, he wants to make sure that Derek doesn’t overhear them.

“Dude stop dragging me-” “Don’t you realize who that was?” “Uh no, super creepy if you ask me, what was he doing out he-” “Scotty that was Derek Hale, you know, of the Hale Fire and the Hale House Ruins? His whole family minus him and his sister got burned alive-” “Oh shit dude, really?” “Yes really, I wonder what he’s doing back in town, I was sure he would never come back after what happened.” “Stiles, who cares? He’s creepy and I have my inhaler, let’s just get out of here.”

Stiles sighs in response. He’s not really surprised at Scott’s response. Scott has never been the brightest bulb, he probably thinks that whatever changes he’s going through are natural at best and rabies at worst. If Stiles is right, and it’s looking like he is with every passing minute, then he has his work cut out for him.

___

Stiles’ first scar is received at the ripe age of four. A simple starburst of shock-white just under the dimple of his left knee. At this age, he is all babbling brook speech over crooked rock beds and four lengthy limps that stumble clumsy like over uneven ground and not-there cracks. It’s no mystery how nor why he falls and scrapes his knee onto harsh sharp rocks. Only a wonder in how he did it in the cityscape park where no such rock can be found. His mother laughs off the injury, just as energetic as he and simply antiseptic wipes and bandages the bleeding skin. A kiss that makes a younger Stiles’ think of mother’s magic healing touch over the band-aid. The injuries pain seems to disappear in thin air with the gesture, and upon looking back Stiles will wonder if it was all in his mind or is something more was happening under the surface, but in present time as an enchanted four year old, Stiles simply giggles with glee and demands ice cream from his favorite parlor.

It’s the first of many similar scars, all the pain washed away by the same magic kiss only mothers seem to know. It is only looked upon fondly by older amber eyes in the futures, when the scar is nothing more than a strange change in texture on the knee. The first of many to come, but held in special memory of long gone simpler times, nostalgia worn. It is one of few that brings a smile to his eyes.

[gryffinpuffthunderbird]

Tagged by: @batgirl-87.  I actually started on this a while back when I saw it going around, but now that I’ve been tagged, its time to actually finish it.

Tagging: @lady-vossler and whoever else feels like it. I think most of my HPHM mutuals have done it already. lol

Original template can be found here

Details under the cut.

Name: Ember Anna Maria Lee

Hair: Long chestnut brown, straight to slightly wavy depending on weather. She had it cut once, a year before coming to Hogwarts, and she hated it. She’s never let her parents get her hair cut since, preferring to get it trimmed every once and a while.

Complexion: Sort of light olive. A large amount of her heritage includes Italian and French. Though some of her family have darker tones, hers and her siblings’ are lightened by their British/Celtic ancestry.

Wardrobe: Varied, but often seen in warm clothes, as she gets cold easily. She prefers warm, fiery colors, but occasionally goes for blues, as they are rather flattering on her.  She owns a couple skirts besides those for school, but she’s not a big fan of skirts. She prefers pants, but will sometimes go for a dress if she feels like getting dolled up. Having grown up being called a tomboy though, that isn’t often. Usually she goes for jeans and boots. (She likes the ankle support and she hates high heels, even when dressing up.)

Element: Fire. Not only her name, but a fascination of hers. She likes to play with fire. She likes the warmth, she likes how pretty it can be, and respects how how potentially destructive it could be. Like fire, she can be warm or explosive, depending on the fuel. She has a slight temper, but its often gone as fast as it appears, and she’s learned to contain it for the most part. She likes to learn how to make things, transforming something, in a sense, without magic. She is passionate in most things she does, and occasionally reckless.

Season: Summer. Much as she loves her Hogwarts family, and everything magical, she prefers warmer weather. She loves to travel, and some summers she ends up visiting North America with family, sometimes camping in the mountains. But less so since Jacob’s disappearance. Something about the summer makes her feel stronger than ever, even though her recent home life has diminished it somewhat.

Animal: Her patronus is the fox. In her head, she always sees a cross phase coloration to it. 

“Foxes are quick, intelligent and strongly ambitious. Although they are known for their cunning nature, they are very charismatic and easy to love. If your Patronus is a fox, you have an ability to think outside of the box and act quickly during emergency situations. Possessing an incredible amount of wisdom, foxes make for an excellent teacher to guide you through the obstacles of life. “ - Zavvi Article

She is a sometimes reckless, sometimes brilliant oddball with probably a little too much pride. She tries to be positive with the people in her life, even when she should be letting them in a little more in regards to her more negative thoughts. She has anxiety, but ends up using it to think around possible pitfalls rather than freeze at them, and can have a talent for improvisation in said situations.

(fun fact: her happiest thoughts to use for the patronus charm are music with her brother, catching fireflies once as a child, and the first time she flew as a kestrel)

Accessory: Fisherman’s hat. It was a gift from her grandmother. It has gone from a personal fashion statement to a good luck charm. She has worn it during quite a few adventures (The game doesn’t have them so I can’t have her do so, but in my heart I know she does) and she’s pretty sure a majority of her success has been due to said luck.

Texture: Velvet. Velvet can symbolize success, pride, travel, honor, sensuality/deep emotions, a desire to be thought highly of, or luxury(or just plain coziness). She has a red throw blanket that has a velvety texture, though not actual velvet. Her singing voice is sometimes described as ‘velvety’, being rich, full, and smooth. The texture reminds her of many types of animals’ fur, and can be almost as relaxing to have against her as petting a soft creature feels.

Home: I believe she may have an aversion to the very thought of total order and proper organization in her space. Despite this, she has her own system and it works for her. She hates leaving her walls bare (part of the reason her part of the dorm room is covered in art made by her friends). At home the walls are also covered with art, as well as posters and other paraphernalia. She loves dark wood furniture that looks like it could belong to her grandmother, but fun designs on her bedding to add some flavor to it. Her room is very much her sanctuary from the rest of her family or the world in general. Some days, her brother’s room is. She used to spend some time singing along with him as he practiced his guitar. She started to try and learn to play it, sitting in his room like she used to, and practices during the summer, but she hasn’t gotten too far on it yet.

Name: Jacob A. Lee

Hair: Slightly curly light brown/sandy blond, kept fairly short, and usually artfully tousled. Briefly played around with turning it crazy colors via magic, but decided it wasn’t really his thing.

Complexion: Light olive, similar to his sister’s, though slightly lighter. Often considered ‘tan’.

Wardrobe: A lot of acid washed jeans, sometimes with holes torn in them. (Which his parents couldn’t stand)  A lot of band t-shirts, both of the muggle and wizarding worlds. A couple of what I would call ugly sweaters, which were considered fashionable at the time. Chain wallets and his favorite black leather jacket made a regular appearance. He tends to try for something of a James Dean-esque look.

Element: Metal. An element people don’t talk about as much, as there’s less focus on the Chinese elements and horoscopes than the western astrological.

“A person born under the metal element will pursue his goals with a single-minded purpose, and has an unwavering confidence in himself and his ability to attain his goals.“

Jacob is bright and eye-catching in his actions, coming across as extroverted and always onto something interesting. He has made for a good leader at times in the past, being stubborn, decisive, and determined. Doesn’t allow much to block his path for long and rather unbelievably gutsy, he likes to do things his way, even if it means striking out on his own. He can be a caring and devoted person to some, but can become cold and unyielding to others. Would probably have made a very good Slytherin, but his values veered more towards general honor and glory than actual ambition for a specific outcome.

Season: Autumn. Harvest weather injects the fun summer heat with a bit of a biting chill. A feeling of becoming driven rises as people work hard, determined to prepare for the coming cold. Its a time of bringing on change, whether for better or worse. Jacob is intense and at times fiery, but as described before, capable of a shuddering chill. His motives are partially to bring about change, and sometimes he doesn’t really consider what effect said change will have on those around him. 

Animal: His patronus and animagus form are both the Raven. A bird that is highly intelligent and capable of complex socialization, but often flies solo. They are said by many to be connected to fate and extremely good luck, though they’re most often seen as an omen of death or disaster. They can symbolize secrets, change, and innovation.

Accessory: Black leather and wood bead wrap bracelet. While brainstorming, or hiding nerves, Jacob could often be seen fidgeting with the beads or tugging the leather straps. He doesn’t often talk about where he got it. it was a gift from a muggle friend he’s known since before Hogwarts, handmade by the crafty kid, given to Jacob to keep with him during his time away “at boarding school”. They still hung out during the summers, but since Jacob’s time at Hogwarts took place during the height of the first Wizarding War, he keeps his close friend a secret from the magical world.

Texture: Leather. Flexible, though unyielding. Can be changed into many shapes, but strong enough to have been sometimes used as a type of armor. Soft though also rough. It symbolizes power and protection. And his favorite wardrobe aesthetic, seeing as it also describes his favorite jacket.

Home: Unlike his sister, Jacob kept his room at home fairly neat and tidy (as far as she remembers. She doesn’t remember it very well before his time in Hogwarts. Its hard to make a room messy when you spend most of your time away and don’t like to keep all of your things where everyone knows to look for them). He does keep his collection of vinyl records and mixtapes in his room, along with a guitar he played regularly until his disappearance. His room was a place he’d often hide out in when feeling overloaded by everything, and a safe place for his sister to come to when she needed comfort but didn’t want to go to their parents.

[byulyi-naughtyg]

Unpopular opinion: some anti whitewashing activists are taking it too far

I am aware that whitewashing is an issue in k-pop as well as everywhere else, and I openly oppose beauty standards that insinuate that dark skin or any skin colour isn't beautiful. That being said, I've been seeing anti whitewashing activists use pictures of the lightest skinned member of a k-pop group (oftentimes original photos) and put yellow-toned filters over those with the hash tag "anti white-washing" and thus "color-correcting" them. I'm sorry but what the heck.

I know white washing is a problem and I oppose it myself. But here is some very important information:

1. Some east Asians, especially when they are from the north of South Korea or the North of Japan actually do have light skin naturally.

2. Most people who have light to brown skin tones have a winter and a summer skin tone. That's inherent to the function of melanin. I'm gonna take Mamamoo as an example (just because they come to mind not because I am talking about them in particular.) For example, if you see pictures of Hwasa that were taken in winter she can look lighter than she does in the summer. So if you see a picture of her where she looks lighter that doesn't mean it's /by default/ white washed. I also noticed that Wheein usually gets a beautiful tan in the summer, at least on her legs. That doesn't mean that her very light skinned pictures from the rest of the year are fake or whitewashed. Also, Moonbyul for example seems to tan only slightly in the summer, not nearly as much as Hwasa or Wheein. That might just be because Moonbyul is from farther up north in Korea than Hwasa and Wheein. Genetics, you know? There is nothing wrong with that.

3. Colours are only reflections of the present light spectrum. Which means that colours are different depending on the lighting. Here is an example: on a rainy day, my hair looks ashy brown. On a sunny day, it looks golden blonde. In the sunset, it looks red (I'm not exaggerating). The color it appears depends on the amount of red light present in that moment. The same goes for skin colours, especially yellow toned ones. If someone has light, yellow toned skin but the lighting is more bluish than warm, they can look literally white in that light. Where is white to bluish lighting very common? Stages. Stage lighting.

Please stop obsessing over the slightest colour deviation in pictures of people who are actually light-skinned. It's impossible to portray someone's skin color in the exact accurate way - because colour stability doesn't even actually exist. People don't always have the exact same skin colour.

Instead, please focus on the real issues at hand, of idols like Hwasa and Nada being shamed for their darker skin, of idols like Minnie and Lisa and other Thai idols being shamed that they'd "only look good because of Korean (lighter coloured) make up". Of all the beautiful brown and black ladies who are shamed and disregarded for their dark skin. THIS is skin colour discrimination. Not Moonbyul looking white in bluish stage lighting or on a rainy day. Please respect everyone's real and actual skin colour, no matter if they are darker or lighter, and respect everyone's appearance the same. You ain't helping the cause by putting yellow filters over original photos of light-skinned idols and it's not on you to decide what their skin "should" look like, be it lighter or darker, warmer or cooler.