#witness the mess that is my sketching process

[smudgeandfrank]

What?? Pfft- nooooo, I'm not making myself cry with a Kraken Crew piece concept!! What would make you think that?? 🥲😭😭😭

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[eldritch-alicedoll]

Diasomnia Boy gift s/o an evening gown to attend the NRC & RSA ball tgt Headcanon

Following from my dress sketch design if you haven’t seen it here . They are base from Glorious Masquerade & Playful land events. Basically a sequence I imagine while drawing the dresses XD I also want to mention that when it’s finish 🥺 you can draw it on your oc and even tweak a bit detail to fit your Yuu or OC. It’s meant to be share with everyone, not just my Yuu.

⚠️ Bad English……. I have no idea what is grammar . 😂

╭══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╮

Imagine a ball between NRC and RSA happening maybe sometime after chapter 7. All students are invited but you are troubling since you have no dress to wear. And for the love of the great seven. Your beloved head master, Crowley just allowed you to join in your NRC uniform……….. great! So much for your kindness!!

Guess who will be the photographer and a background character on this event…..hahaha………

Well maybe you whine too much in front of the wishing well. Someone comes up with a plan. A plan that would make you believe in a fairytale once again!

╰══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╯

𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔲𝔰 🐉

You had to be blind to not suspect anything……

Lately Mal is a bit touchy. Not that he isn’t normally but this is different. Sometimes he holds your wrist while mumbles something while going on a night stroll. Sometimes he stares at you and gets lost in his thoughts. He even stands just in front of you and tries to lift you up once.

You are so confused and a bit embarrassed when he asks about your height so you call for support. The Diasomnia’s family counselor aka. Lilia Vanrouge. You went all the way to Diasomnia dorm without telling anyone and sneak in to see Lilia.

But

…….

…..

…………

Is he………….

Is he dancing with a dress just now??

Surprisingly you just witness your dragon boyfriend practicing a dance with a beautiful dress. He hummed ‘that song’ while spinning with the dress. What a beautiful princess gown with dark green silk. It looks so shiny and smooth, something that would delicately touch her skin while being held in that big palm. Imagine how soft that hand craft lace feels when on your chest. He did not spare any piece of jewellery from his procession. He keep bring in dazzling earrings and necklaces to test it with the gown. He would have use the heart of his collection to craft a piece of accessories for you if he doesn’t want to save it for something later in the year. You can see a magical golden thread and needle weaving delicate patterns on the skirt as he continues the dance. Every angle……Every turn………..Malleus is creating a masterpiece. He did it………..for you…….for his princess.

Your face is burning from the love of this dragon fae. Why does he have to put so much effort into it.

Oh no………now you a mess

You open the Pandora box too early and now you have to live with it while pretending not to know a thing until the day. You bit your lip as Mal smoothly tug a strain of hair behind your ears. You can now understand what he mumbles about……rose gold? Sunshine gold? May be one of his grandma’s jewellery set?? (Oh god no…….that’s tooo far for the first gown Mal lol)

Your heart beat so fast until the evening of the event. Malleus play cool by teasing you and being a nice partner who prepare a gift for you.

Boom! You are now in a matching dress. So those Raven feathers on the hip are supposed to match his shoulder then ah………..you are about to take off the veil since it looks like a bride. Before Malleus could turn grumpy…..Sebek yell and lecturing you about how talented Wakasama are! You human dare to question his sense of fashion? Outrageous! Just because he love you doesn’t mean you can ruin his days of afford to perfect this dress

Woops………tongue slip

Well it’s not like you never know anyway. Just pretend to be surprise so Sebek won’t get a lightning strike okay?

Bonus : she doesn’t want to point out that when she accidentally saw Malleus weaving that dress……. his tail wagging. It’s a secret she gonna take to her grave though

Bonus 2 : Lilia does notice that and brag about how adorable Malleus is. How Malleus has grown to fit in the society in front of the other dorm leader………..Oopsie

Bonus 3 : Malleus learn the hard way not to miss the meeting

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆 🦇

Have you heard of the story of the fairy godmother in Cinderella? Well he won’t just roll out and sing bib bi di bub bi di bo and bang! A nice new dress for you. The old man planned while cuddling you in bed……in sofa…..in the gaming chair(?)

He pretends to be busy with something and hasn't listened to you. Even play dumb and say you look cute in the school uniform. Well it’s not totally a lie since he thinks it’s adorable. Why would he poke on your cheek and nibble your neck while you are in your uniform if it’s not because you are so cute to him.

The truth is, this old bat is as excited as you. He lived through the war time and never got a chance to enjoy a leisure party before. Well it’s just a joint event of 2 schools. It can't compare with how grand the royal ball of the Briar valley held a ball but this is the first time he is going to have his lover join him. He doesn’t have to be alert from enemies. Doesn’t have to command his subordinates to search all the parties involved in this event. Just lay back enjoy the day with you.

He had been trying to recreate that dress in his memories just for you. It was around……..hundred? Two hundred?? Year ago??? He walked past this girl on the street and was stunned by her attire. It’s an elegant dress with black velvet and green emerald. Soft flare neckline covered the black corset. Enough skin to show your radiant but not too much.

Well, He was allowed to give you some hickeys before the day of the ball. It got enough fabric to cover all his naughtiness. Wink*

However he was troubled with the skirt since he only remembered just part of it flowing past him. He argued if it’s short or long skirt. He was going back and forth and even tried to summon multiple dresses to compare them…….Then before the final day. He just uses his sense of style to bring it together. Of cause ! Who do you think he is, if not the cutest boy in NRC ? (Self proclaimed……)

He smiles so proudly with your flushed cheek as he teases you. As you put on a golden belt with a bat and thorn on. This is the perfect dress for you. His baby bat. He should had prepare a ring for this big day but well…….there are plenty time for that

Bonus : He pick a perfume for you today and as you dance with him on the floor. It’s totally Lilia’s scent///

This is very long………..more than I expected

I’ll continue Silver & Sebek in part 2 then 😂 sorry I’m so into it with my oshi! I’ll try pack in other dorm in one post! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!!

[mitsvriii]

out of touch

alhaitham/reader/kaveh

angsty fluff; more in notes, apart of "two people one heart"

notes: reader’s job has something to do with designs; not specified but goes along with that, some of it was rushed?? if the pacing is weird that’s why, reader is smart, no bimbo reader in this fic, kaveh is a himbo tho let’s be fr, the song’s meaning is about being misunderstood/disconnected in relationships so just trust the process with the pacing of that in this fic yet again, i did NOT expect this to exceed the word count in my head but the thoughts y’know, young al haitham’s characterization is different from present/in-game, not THAT familiar with his backstory but screw it we ball, idk how akademiya classes work bro 😭, screams into the void the PACING 😿, open ending 🤧, i actually hate this so much LMAO, turned out to be more platonic than romantic aiya,,,,,,

You could hardly believe that Kaveh and Al Haitham had managed to live together in high tensions for so long, especially since you had moved in with them and witnessed their antics. Financial decisions in your job weren’t exactly something that would lead you to have enough money to support yourself until you could make more. This is exactly why Al Haitham offered you the choice to stay at his house, or in his tantalizing words, “just one person helping someone else out of the goodness of his heart”.

Kaveh wasn’t the happiest person when Al Haitham offered you to stay with them, although it slipped your focus at that moment. It started grabbing your attention when you would often hear their hushed but harsh whispers when you tried to doze off at night, or the not-so-subtle glares they threw at each other over meals. You wondered if it was because one of them simply didn’t want you in his company or if you had done something wrong, but you soon found out that wasn’t the cause. 

To put it simply, it wasn’t the fact that you had moved in or the fact that you were disturbing them at all, it was that they seemed to be in some sort of competition for your attention, or forgiveness. It was a small theory that you tested when you asked one of them to hand you a pen while sketching out a design. It would be absolutely correct to say that they both acted like two cats after a toy trying to hand one to you first. 

It wasn’t just that occurrence either, ever since then the two of them seemed to have this little competition between the two of them to try to do as much as they could for you, despite your multiple inputs against it.

You supposed that maybe it was their way of saying “sorry”. Asks of service. You suppose that maybe rooming with two people who you had certain history with them didn’t help with their little competition of who would earn back your forgiveness first.

Kaveh and you had been friends since you were kids, ironically. After his father’s death, Kaveh had sought to spend more time with you rather than his mother. But in the end, you couldn’t blame him because she was quite a mess and wouldn’t even bother speaking half of the time, which wasn’t something you minded because she sounded so hoarse and blank that it made your ears hurt. You and Kaveh both enrolled in the Akademiya at the same time, you went into Vahumana while he went into Kshahrewar. 

The first time you met Al Haitham was later on in the year when you were still having migraines over research reports and the struggle of having to memorize information out of twenty books at a time in the Akademiya instead of the source of them being Kaveh and Al Haitham themselves. You knew little about him other than words from the students' scattered whispers about him. 

Apparently, despite being a kid on the quieter side, he was extremely intelligent and had enough knowledge stored within him that he could go toe-to-toe with Amurta’s know-it-all. You two were in different Darshans so it was no surprise that you didn’t know him all that well at first. However, he seemed to know some things about you. 

You never questioned it, but you honestly had an idea that Kaveh may have rambled about you to him. You knew that Al Haitham and Kaveh had spent some of their spare days together and often spent time in the library in their spare time, but knew little about what their conversations consisted of.

A wish that often came across your mind was that you had spent more time with the two of them when you had your breaks instead of getting ahead in your work or going out to do things within the city. But the past was in the past and no amount of daydreaming about what could’ve been would happen.

Gradually Kaveh soon introduced you to Al Haitham in the library when you were on one of your breaks, the latter of which only nodded his head in greeting before going back to his writing. You brushed it off as one of his “antisocial qualities” before joining the two of them at the table in the library. Time faded as your days at Akademiya came to an end, the three of you growing closer together, though good things never lasted for long it seemed.

Kaveh seemed to get more distant as the years grew by, leaving you and Al Haitham to discuss possible scenarios of what happened. That seemed to be the unspoken question that hung on your lips but never came out. The thought had crossed your mind to ask Kaveh’s mother, but you didn’t want to stir up that hornet's nest if she had something to do with it. 

It wasn’t until the next week that Al Haitham had sought you out to ask what exactly was happening, and he didn’t seem to take I don’t know for an answer, either. Apparently Kaveh had blown up in his face over a project, most likely the result of the buildup of his stress over the past few days, and so went their newfound friendship. With a sigh you were off to talk to Kaveh, who explained his reasoning with angry mumbles and refused to elaborate further. He didn’t talk to you until two weeks before graduation.

His mother wanted a fresh start. To move, to get out of Sumeru, wipe out the past; a clean slate. That included leaving him behind, too. Although you understood that he was hurting, it wasn’t a good excuse to hurt you and Al Haitham emotionally, either, however you didn’t bring that up because it was a somewhat miracle he was talking to you now.

He claimed he needed space so soon after the three of you graduated you didn't exactly stay in touch. You sought out to at least send each other letters but the only one that returned them was Al Haitham in all his glory. After a while, though, he too soon was busy with his own things. You didn’t question it and moved on yourself, too, the world wasn’t going to stop for you. But the three of you were now roommates so it was only a matter of time before the three of you talked about the big elephant in the room, right? 

Right?

taglist: @keiiqq, @luvrkise, @hotanina

[zorkaya-moved]

He has never stopped fascinating her. A young man, an embodiment of art's fickleness and freedom, the true personification of how the process of art can become. So flexible yet so reckless, but a colorful mess nonetheless. A mess of the brightest shades that would create the prettiest picture in the eyes of those who knew what to look for. Zarina was one of the people who knew what to seek out, witnessing the blossoming flowers of creativity and potential. The ignited desire to see how far he would go and how much he could withstand in this environment that denied him, his skills, his whole existence, and his passions—she wanted to see human potential, the brightest of the colors anyone can bring into this world, and into her world as well.

This was why his presence was so surprising to see. He is a special one. One she protected with her own life, her mind and soul registering him as "one of her people" without question. Pain in her chest would echo the past experience, the serpent's attempt to survive foiled as the ritual would be activated, and the merge would happen. This potential, this blossoming flower, this spring. After winter dies, spring will come and will continue bringing life. If she could describe Kaveh as anything, it would be 'vibrant life.' 

"Hah," she can't help but let out that repressed chuckle. He's right; he never cared about how others talked about him. The guard looks at them with suspicion, but mostly because he is concerned about the 'renowned Kaveh's' safety near the 'traitor.' One of Mahamata, he is under the direct service of General Mahamatra Cyno. Not a surprise they put someone like that to watch her. "You brought your sketches? Why is that?"

She didn't need to wait for the answer as he reached for the pages, showing her the sketch he was working on. Immediately, she knew where that scene was from. The scene from the dreamscape. The discovery of her dominion over the Abyssal Serpent, its screams for help silenced as the Serpent that took on her appearance would be beheaded and disappear to prove that the one dominating remained a singular human. Lesser Lord Kusanali, shocked by the discovery, would be shocked to discover an ancient being defeated within a mind. But why did Kaveh draw that scene? The moment of exposure of her true horror? The beast in the beauty? The cold-hearted ruthlessness and viciousness? 

"No, but you seem to be taken hostage by my reality as an artist. The showcase of humanity's duality... Quite shocking how you can pretend to be a saint when you are the devil," Zarina pushes back her surprise as she looks away from him. She never looks away, never. But right now? She does. "So what did you come here for? To show me how you memorized the moment of my mask slipping? Tighnari and Alhaitham came over today's morning. They were quite... Well, hah, they've had a lot to say. What do you want to tell me?"

well respected, it was a jocular sort of thing. to be tethered to a certain empathy by association, as if they felt the burden of guilt for someone else’s crime. he wanted to scoff at their pitying glances, at their stances as they shifted uncomfortably and so they should -  what words of appeasement did he need from those who couldn’t even form an opinion of their own volition. that was the world they had co-existed within, had laughed, derisive at as they feebly attempted to preserve their fountain of pristine knowledge, never to be contaminated by something as filthy as a falsity. It was sickening, watching them fawn over their truths as if they were the sole prosperity offered to them, as if their vapid brains couldn’t fathom a future without someone to spoon feed them facts. that was what it meant to be an artisan of a craft frowned upon. art , in its many forms were disregarded by the sages as frivolous but none of them had the audacity to hold a brush nor pencil, had the fortitude to delineate the beauty in that which they feared. even as she had shown herself to him, brutal as she was in all forms, within, as she stood, hair flared behind her in undulating waves; she was the same person she had been for their time trapped in that scholarly prison. The guard whispers to him caution and he waves him off, dismissing him with a mere flick of his wrist, disdain in the fact that he would even breathe such blasphemy into his ears. “  to say goodbye.”  a solitary brow arched and he sunk into the corner across from her, sketch pad tucked neatly under his arm. roseate lips, so customary to a pout, are fixed in a firm line. “  you think i care about what they say about me.”  he was reputable in his expertise and if those fools were so blinded by their own tiny perception of the world then good riddance, he could find his mora in other, more accommodating places.   “  you don’t know me as well as I had thought zar.”  he splayed the book out before her,  its pages unfurling to reveal her, distinct outline in all her glory -  vicious and unyielding.  “  do you really think me so dull as to be unable to form a thought of my own.” 

[theredsuzuran]

Hello! Could I request Douma with a s/o who enjoys art? For instance, painting or drawing then placing their artworks around the paradise cult? They could be demon / human but preferably aware about the whole eating cult members thing? Me being me I would be fine knowing that lol. Sorry if this is too specific but thank you in advance!

Thank you so much for this request, I hope its upto your liking and I apologize if I have messed up🥺

Douma x Reader ~

The warm rays of the sun glistened your skin with a golden hue as you stood there on the long wide corridors holding the remaining pieces of arts that you were pasting on the walls of the busy temple, gazing at the distant sky with full concentration succumbing deep into the abyss of its aesthetics. So much so that you failed to notice your fellow cult members reaching out until someone pat your shoulder startling you suddenly.

"Oh" a soft sigh escape from your mouth as you to snapped out of your thoughts, looking directly at them with eyes still dreaming.

"We have been calling you for so long (y/n) san~ aren't you gonna tell your friends about him?"

"Do you think its going to rain anytime soon?"

"Are you even listening to what am saying?"

Averting your gaze from them you lifted your head upward at the direction of the tremendous vast expanse paying no attention to them while drifting away in your own world.

"If it rains will I see that again?" spacing out yet again but this time evoking vivid memories of a man finding your desolated body covered with blood and mud, drenched under the heavy downpour.

"What?" One or them inquired both curious and annoyed at the same time.

"I told you! (y/n) is weird just leave them alone its fruitless to strike any conversation at all, Lord douma probably shows his pity being a man of virtue" one of them whispered so that you don't hear them badmouthing you.

"Right who cares about those stupid paintings" the other giggled at your face then turned away leaving you behind in the now empty hallway.

All of them associate with you because of the favour you get from Douma, the supreme head of the eternal paradise cult. You have merely smiled knowing that they have always belittle your precious artworks crushing your fragile confidence into pieces although let's say you would never encounter them again and that's a different story, still they were unable to break your devotion. Every painting you made were nurtured and cared with great affection as you put your heart and soul into it. Most importantly there was the charming leader himself who encouraged you rather than making fun of it. That's the exact reason why douma was your savior.

Even though you knew the heinous crimes he have committed, the cannibalistic practices that occurs during midnight inside the temple complex, yes it terrifies you but still you cannot find in your heart to hate him, you wish demons could co exist together alongside mortals although it sounds absurd as predators can never befriend their natural prey but you were an artist who saw the world with a different perspective instead of blaming demons you felt sympathy. Since they were humans too once and due to unavoidable circumstances they are now suffering this fate. Making you wonder what was his story?

However you are quite mad lately since It has been days you last saw your beloved cult leader, afterall he has things to do and you seem to grow lonelier each day due to the lack of his presence. The way he caressed your cheeks and smiled ever so lovingly at you made your heart flutter with ecstacy. Art therefore have always been your escape as your days passes drawing sketches of him. You sat on the wooden engawa, with papers and colours scattered all over the floor holding your brush in hopes of completing his perfect image but your mind wandered to the eromous clouds engulfing the sky above. When suddenly you caught glimpse of a familiar sitting right next you.

"I thought I would wait since you were busy admiring the beautiful nature"

"Douma" a sudden rush of emotions came pouring down, the storm seem to have calm down by the heavy rain. However it was hard for poor (y/n) to decide whether to jump with pure happiness or to just sit and cry for leaving them astray.

"There there my little dove, am here" he replied smiling charmingly engulfing you in a tight embrace.

The two sat on top of the wooden floor. Once again letting the silence to develop, this time droplets of water accompanied the tranquil atmosphere with its drizzling sound.

"Are you hanging your paintings on the walls?" Douma asked enthusiastically breaking the previous calm.

"Yes" you replied politely

"good good" reaching his arms to pat you gently, he praised.

"Douma, where have you been?" You questioned Finally letting those words escape from your quivering lips which you were desperately trying to swallow inside this entire time and regretting because you are afraid of what might happen next for asking such an outrageous question ruining the blissful aura.

"Aww did (y/n) miss me?" Douma answered still maintaining his lively composure. Although there was sudden shift in the atmosphere as it grew a bit tense.

"What if I say I did?" You murmured under your breath blushing slightly to which his eyes widened for he have awaited long for something like this to happen.

"I have some orders to fulfill for that man" the douma chuckled slightly as he began speaking again "and probably he did not like it a bit that I failed to accomplish my mission" when you notice one of his beautiful multicolored orb a little swallowen as if someone have pierced his eyeballs out. You were aware of his supernatural existence and strength because he was not some ordinary demon but witnessing such injury made your heart drop.

"Now (y/n)~ show me what you are drawing" his face gleaming with excitement as he clapped his hands.

"It's not yet completed"

"Don't be like that show me" he made a puppy face.

"Noooo" you cried in protest trying your best to restrain him but failed miserably, since he was faster than you and upon seeing the drawing the sheet of paper he stopped responding. Been living for a century having money, status and almost a perfect immortal body, he still felt hollow. People stand in line for hours to worship him in order to achieve their own desires, to gift him valuable fortunes, antiques, exclusive garments and all sorts of expensive merchandise and sometimes in hope of wooing him but never in his life he felt so content by a simple piece of art made with such adoration. Overwhelming a ruthless uppermoon like him with strong emotions.

"I know it's not that good" you bit your lips in embarrassment but you were taken aback when you felt a pair of muscular arms wrapping your waist resting his head on your lean shoulders. Returning his gesture you smiled and closed your eyes running your hands in his platinum blonde hair in an attempt to soothe him.

"Douma do you remember the time we met?" douma hummed in response.

"Its because of you that am still alive and I can't show my gratitude enough, I have sworn to the art I love I will never break my loyalty towards you", douma looked at you this time when you suddenly reached your arms to cup his face amusing a bit in the process.

"Back when I was a child, I saw a beautiful arc covering the blue sky displaying a wide range of bright colours taking my breath away for I was mesmerized, and I hope I could see that again as I was laying down on the ground reminding the jovial moments of life before my demise, admist the rain I saw a shilloute of a man approaching me- that's when I saw that again in your eyes instilling hope within me, its a monochromatic world when you are not around"

That's when he took your hands into his large ones gently, giving the most lovable expression he could ever make, something so genuine for someone like him. He did not know why he was so attracted to a human like you. Moving his fingers on your lips caressing it softly smudging the colour you have applied before as he leaned closer and closer making your eyes shut tight too flustered to even look. Your face heating up on his cold touch, as you felt a his lips pressed softly onto your nose.

Opening your eyes slightly you found him grinning at your beet red face.

"Let's put that painting on my wall then!"

[naminethewriter]

America’s Favourite Gameshow!!

Day 2 and I’m still on track! It’s way too late though and I hope I get done with the other prompts sometime before 12am 😴 Anyway, have fun with this silly little fluff story 💙💚🥰 @intrulogicalweek2021

Here on Ao3

Masterpost | Intrulogical Week 2021 Masterpost

Characters: Remus, Logan

Relationship: romantic Intrulogical

Rating: G

Words: 1,480

Summary:  Logan just wanted to make sure his boyfriend ate something. Remus wants entertainment more.

Logan walked along the halls of Remus’ castle in search of his boyfriend who had run off after breakfast to continue some project of his. Now, hours later, Logan wanted to ensure that he had eaten since then because while they didn’t require to eat, considering they were just figments of Thomas’ overactive subconscious, it had proven to be beneficial to their wellbeing as well as Thomas’. It had taken Logan almost a year of research to come to that conclusion but it had been well worth the effort.

 But both sides of Creativity were prone to forgetting the passage of time while working on one of their passion projects, hence Logan’s decision to check on Remus this afternoon. He had already looked through most of the grounds and was now on his way up into a tower. It was pretty much separated from the rest of the castle and nobody but Logan and the Duke himself had access and Remus spend a lot of time up there doing whatever he wants without disturbance. The only reason that Logan had put off checking there first is because he disliked the long, long staircase leading up. About three fourth of the way up, Logan could hear cluttering sounds, so it seemed reasonable to assume his search would soon be over.

After another five minutes of climbing he finally reached the top, only one door separating him from whatever mess Remus has caused this time. Logan took a few deep breaths before pushing it open.

 Pure Chaos laid before him. He couldn’t even begin to describe it. Furniture overturned and broken. Paint or something colourful had gotten everywhere. Glass shards, papers, confetti, everything scattered randomly around the room and Remus in the middle of it.

 Logan didn’t even attempt going any further in. Instead he called out to his boyfriend who turned to face so fast, his head rotated more than it should with a sickening crack.

 “Lolo!” he grinned, pulling his head back into the right position before climbing over the rubble to the door. As soon as he got into touching distance he wrapped himself around Logan in a tight hug. His boyfriend just patted his arm until he let go. “What brings you here, starshine? You horny?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

 “No Remus, I am not horny. I simply came to check on you since I haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

 “Ah shit, is it already evening? Damn time flies when you’re busy, huh.”

 “What were you doing in the first place? This entire room is a mess.” Logan immediately regretted asking when he saw the smile spreading across his boyfriend’s face. “No, Remus, please-“

 Too late.

 Remus snapped and suddenly there was a spotlight on the two of them, two more swinging across the room that was now notably darker. Some kind of jingle started playing and an invisible audience started applauding. Remus, now in a suit, brought a microphone to his mouth.

 “Ladies and Gentlemen! You have waited patiently and now it is finally time to play America’s favourite gameshow! It’s” – the fake audience yelled along the next words –

 “Art or Science!”

 “The rules are simple,” Remus continued alone. “Our returning champion, Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders, has five minutes to survey the room and then he has to decide: did I cause this chaos in the name of Art or Science! He is allowed to ask me three things to specify, not one hint more. Our contestant has a success rate of 66% so far and I’m sure we are all curious to see the result of our fourth episode of-!” Remus held the mic away from him and again the imaginary audience shouted:

 “Art or Science!”

 “Now, Logan. Are you ready to start?” Remus held out the mic to Logan this time who groaned and levelled him with an unimpressed glare.

 “Is this really necessary, Cephy?” Remus laughed and threw his arms open.

 “Of course not, but it’s fun so we’re doing it!” Logan massaged his temple. Ever since Thomas had taken to binge watching SNL sketches on YouTube, Remus had been practically enthralled with their game show parodies. Especially if Bill Hader (Remus’ favourite cast member) played the host. His top spot shifted between ‘What’s that Name?’ and ‘Who’s on Top’ every five minutes and Logan couldn’t deny that the chaos of those concepts fit Remus very well, so it should be no surprise that he thought of his own little show. It just annoyed Logan that he was the only contestant ever having to deal with it.

 Well, at least it was short. He could play along for five minutes.

 “Fine, start the clock.” Remus cheered, as did the audience, and the light returned to how it was before, with the entire room evenly lit.

 “As always, please don’t hesitate to give us play-by-play commentary on your thought process, Sherlock,” Remus giggled and Logan nodded absentmindedly, already scanning the room for clues. He took the first minute to simply think and his boyfriend let him but Logan knew he would grow impatient eventually.

 “Clearly there is both art supplies as well as lab equipment present and I have witnessed you using both for the others intended purpose, so that does not provide any essential hints. The furniture is mostly broken and out of place. Especially that table that seems to be hanging out the window and only hangs on with one leg anchored inside. The glass was most likely smashed by said table. This could point to a possible explosion that resulted after a failed experiment, favouring science as its cause. Though again, I have seen you set off an explosion to create an art piece of yours so it is not concrete proof either.” Remus nodded along to his descriptions and a spotlight also shone on the areas he talked about.

 “Now for my first question, I would like you to confirm whether the dark red substance in that corner is blood or not.”

 “It’s not, though I tried my best to get it to smell the same.” Logan nodded, again falling silent for a moment to think. The quiet was broken by a croak and something moved though it was hidden enough that Logan couldn’t quite make it out.

 “You used live specimen. Not unheard off for your art but more common with experiments. Especially frogs.”

 “Toads, not frogs actually.”

 “I can tell apart a frog croaking and toad doing the same, Remus. That sound was a frog.”

 “Nah, you see, I like how toads look better but frogs sound more appealing, so I made a toad that croaked like a frog.”

 “Fascinating. Could you show it to me later?”

 “Sure! Also that counts as your second questions.” Logan glared at his boyfriend for a moment but relented.

 “Fine.” He continued to point out other details about the room and whether they pointed towards art or science and soon Remus announced that he had only 30 seconds left. Logan contemplated in his head and came to a decision at the same moment Remus called:

 “Time! Five minutes are up, Ladies and Gentlemen! Now Logan, give us your answer, please!” The room had darkened once again, with a spotlight on Logan and Remus and two others moving around the room.

 “I say it’s art.”

 “Is that your final answer?”

 “Yes, Remus, please do not drag this out any longer.”

 “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand around before getting back into character. “His answer is locked in! Now let’s see if he’s right. Is it art?” A drumroll played and then a bang. Even more confetti poured out of the ceiling, along with balloons, the normal, oval ones and those long ones with two of the former tied to one of the latter (I’m sure you can guess what that symbolises, we’re talking about Remus here after all).

 “Coooooooorrrreeeeccccctttt!” Applause roared and Remus threw an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close. “Another win for our returning champion! With this his success rate is now at 75%! How are you feeling, are you proud?” He held out the mic to Logan, who rolled his eyes.

 “I am alright, now please wrap this up.” Remus giggled but complied.

 “That was it for this episode of-“

 “Art or Science!”

 “See you next time, folks!” And with another snap, things returned to normal, the lights, the sounds and Remus’ outfit. “Wasn’t that fun, starlight?”

 “It was fine, Remus.”

 “You just don’t like admitting it~”

 “No matter, that is not what I came up here for anyway.”

 “Oh yeah, why did you come here?”

 “To ask if you have eaten since breakfast.”

 “Oh, rotten shit, I forgot.”

 “I thought as much. Come on, I secured you some leftovers from lunch and the rest of the hot sauce.”

 “You are the best, moonlight.”

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

(( Yo I've never done these before but your stuff rocks and I wanted to try u//w//u happy early Valentine's Day ! For context , Kaja's thing is she has always carried around this journal where she records basically everything in her studies and day to day life in the Scouts , and she often sketches as a way to relieve stress and document things in her day to day life ! Which of course includes Levi ~ also forgive her , she's got a thick skull and doesn't know how to process her emotions lmfao ))

Levi ,

I guess I should probably give you a reason as to why I'm dodging training that isn't an obviously bullshit excuse . I'm sure you could see right through me when I told you I was sick - you always seem to be able to tell when I'm not being honest . Personally , it's a pain in the ass , but I digress .

I realized something the other day and I feel like I haven't been able to think straight since . I don't even know how to say it because it sounds insane , so I'm doing it in the only way I've been able to figure out how ...

No matter how many times Hanji told me I kept staring off into space at you , I didn't believe them until I noticed it for the first time for myself . I started to notice all these little things about you that I never noticed before - the way you furrow your eyebrows or that subtle little smirk you give me when I make some dumb joke ... Even the nights we'd be stuck without sleep and just talked over tea until I dozed off . I realized it was all I was ever thinking about , all I was ever writing about .

I think I realized that ... I really care about you . A lot . In a way I don't think I've ever really gotten the chance to experience before . I think that ... I love you . I don't really know what else to say . It doesn't have to change things , but ... I wanted to be honest .

Anyway , this is also for you , feel free to do whatever with it . Consider it an apology for hiding out the last few days til I could get my head on straight . I'll be sure to get back to it .

Yours ,

Kaja W .

[ Attached is a shoulders-up charcoal sketch of Levi surrounded by Aster flowers , because we're a hoe for symbolism ]

A/n: heya! welcome to the blog! I'm so happy you sent something in from your OC, and I hope you enjoy his reply! Thank you for participating and have a wonderful Valentines Day!

Kaja,

Thank you for the gift. You always did like that charcoal stuff, even if it left dark smears on your trousers. Better not let me catch you wiping your hands on your uniform again, or its laundry duty for a week.

Speaking of, do not think for a moment that your very well captured likeness of me spares you from the laps, stable duty, and mess hall cleanup you owe me. Skipping out on training does not come lightly. After all, we wouldn't want anyone to think I was favouring you.

As you know, our daily life is no fairytale, but accepting and returning your feelings is as close to one as I will ever get in this life. Your presence has been a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy recruits that are usually thrown at me, blubbering and with two left feet. Your humour, wits, and skills are a valuable asset, not only to the Scouts, but to me as well.

Take some time to get that head of yours screwed on right, and then report back to training. I will set aside time tonight for some tea, if you feel up to it. Those feelings you feel, and I mirror, perhaps should be the topic of our chat tonight. Maybe one day, when we're free, you can accompany me beyond the walls, and I can sit for a portrait properly.

Levi

Valentines Day Event 2022

[queencoldart]

Jade

I haven't done anything with Jade in a while because the show has rendered her original story completely pointless, so I wanted to come up with a new role for her that fits first.

Jade was a fish out of water in Ponyville after getting lost in the original story. In said story she had to come to terms with problems that don't have immediate or obvious solutions. She had to learn how to make friends. She had to adapt to living in Equestria and confront her feelings of dragon superiority. She learned that she liked cute and silly stuff, like wearing dresses. She also provided insights to Spike about dragon culture, making him realize it's not all bad. She eventually developed a one-sided crush on Spike because of a series of misunderstandings and because of ponies putting the idea of seeing Spike that way in her head, after which she had to learn how to deal with rejection.

Besides the getting lost and developing a crush parts, this describes Smolder. There is no longer any reason for Jade to come to Ponyville. She doesn't even have an excuse to be lost anymore with Ember being Spike's friend.

I tried to come up with a new story, but I had a very hard time figuring out the specifics.

Jade's new story isn't so much a story as it is her circumstances. A story might flow from these circumstances later. She lives in the Dragon Lands and is very independent. She's an innocent, bubbly young dragon who often lives in her own little world and processes her surroundings with a sense of wonder. She isn't all that emotionally intelligent but she means well. She recognizes patterns in mundane things and gets playful with them. This sometimes results in habits that appear odd. Because she never gets lost, she doesn't mature quite as quickly and she's happier overall.

Jade can appear apathetic and even a little slow-witted because of how preoccupied she is with her own imagination, but she's resourceful and since she spends most of her time by herself in the Dragon Lands she can't afford to be clueless.

There are dragons who find her overall positivity offensive and will mess with her for it, but Jade doesn't take any bullying lying down.

I'm sketching my next Jade picture. I'm still incredibly busy, but I'm hoping to upload it soon.

[ironmandeficiency]

falcon, falcon, goose!

pairing: sam wilson / reader

word count: 3547

summary: there were reports of geese leading people to their soulmates spanning centuries, and it seemed like a cool concept, but why did it have to coincide with you coming out of your writing slump?

warnings: cursing, geese, dumbassery, implied happy au where the avengers get along, iw and endgame who?

a/n: this is an older piece i wrote a couple years ago, decided to brush it up and repost it. and the reader works for snl bc why the hell not? keep in mind that the original was written before everything went to shit w iw & endgame. posted from mobile yet again yall what is wrong w me

it was a sunny day outside, and deciding that you had been cooped up for far too long, you brought your laptop to the park a couple blocks from your studio apartment.

being a writer for saturday night live wasn't always so peachy, what with the lack of a social life outside of your co-workers and constantly explaining your job to confused relatives. you had been in a slump for the past couple weeks, the fact most of your sketch ideas not making the cut for the next episode continuing to throw you off your rhythm.

this week, you were going to change that. Your headphones were playing your concentration playlist full volume and you were hyped to the max. with your laptop on the picnic table in front of you and a warm cup of tea beside it, you were ready to blow the producers away with your next idea.

"honk! honk!"

you felt something nudge your leg, but you were too engrossed into what you were typing to care. after getting through a few more lines, it happened again.

"honk! honk! honk!"

you couldn't hear the sound but the feeling on your leg got a little bit rougher, more demanding. you moved your headphones to the side for a minute and took a moment to look around you. there was no kid running to get their ball back or any squirrels nearby that dropped a nut.

strange.

but you put your headphones back on, trying to keep your groove alive while hoping the interruptions are finished.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" the goose honked louder, pecking at your leg harder than it had earlier.

you were getting frustrated and a little pissed. the creativity was flowing through your veins for the first time in what felt like ages and this — whatever it was — decided that today was the best day to annoy you.

you kicked your legs out with a strange flail and when you came into contact with something large and solid you nearly screamed.

"ow! motherf- oh my god!"

standing on the ground beside your table was a goose. it honked yet again with impatience (geese could do that?) and nipped lightly at your thigh closest to it. looking to the pond nearby, it was nearly an entire gaggle of the damned things.

so here was this goose honking at you and nipping at you like you were supposed to know what the hell it wanted from you.

"i don't have any bread, dumbass. go find someone else to bother." thinking it would leave if you ignored it, you turned away and continued your work.

"HONK! HONK!" it continued to honk and decided to peck you before flapping its wings, landing itself on the table next to your computer.

"get outta here, ya damn goose!" while you were trying to shop it away, it expertly evaded you. "go! shoo! leave me alone!"

it just stayed over on the bench, expertly dodging your attempts to get it to leave.

a few people nearby had heard your altercation with the infernal bird. one of them was an older gentleman that laughed as he sat across from you, the mirth in his eyes glinting as you give him a sarcastic side eye while trying to deal with the current issue.

"that bird won't leave you alone, you know." At his voice, the goose calmed down and waddled a few feet away from your arm's reach.

that was the first time the thing had been seemingly calm since he showed up at your little table.

"what do you mean he won't leave me alone?"

he pauses, part of him enjoying the irritation in your tone. he remembers someone talking to him like he was to you many years ago, and it made his heart smile at the idea of repaying the favor. "have you ever read about soulmate geese?"

"hey we're gonna go for a run, wanna join?" steve’s offer was given with a smirk. ever since reuniting with bucky, the two supersoldiers found so much humor in doing laps around sam every time they went out jogging.

it annoyed the shit out of him, the "on your left" comments from steve and the newer "on your right" jabs from bucky, but it also pushed Sam to work harder during his runs. ultimately he knew his non-enhanced body didn't stand much of a chance beating them, but he enjoyed when he was able to close the gap between their times just a little bit.

"sure, just gimme a few to eat breakfast and I'll join you guys." the blond nodded and turned back to the elevator, having woken up far earlier than sam and therefore already ate.

he hummed otis redding as he laid the bacon flat into the pan, shoulders moving along with his created rhythm while changing the grounds in the coffee filter. this was how he spent most of his mornings, barring the occasional hangovers and missions where he couldn't afford the distraction.

he ate, got dressed, and told FRIDAY to let bucky and steve know he was ready to go. h had his water bottle in hand, giving his body a pep talk in preparation for the run. they met in the common room and soon, the trio was off.

"on your left!"

"on your right!"

"oh, come on!"

he knew it was gonna happen, but for some reason it felt like it happened sooner than normal. either they were trying really hard to mess with him today, or he was off his game. but regardless, he pushed his body harder than he probably should have because when there was something obstructing his path, he didn't pause. no, he charged it straight on through and fell hard.

steve and bucky had seen this from a distance and immediately rushed to get to their friend.

sam rolled onto his back, exhausted and now in terrible pain from the fall. he closed his eyes and just let it all sink in. when he opened his eyes at the sudden foul smell flooding his nostrils, he could feel the palpitations, thinking he was about to have a heart attack.

"holy shit!" sam sat up like a rocket despite the way his body was throbbing from the fall.

the goose stared at him curiously and turned its head toward the pounding footsteps from the approaching brooklynites.

"sam! What happened?" steve was concerned, inspecting sam while bucky noticed the bird. The brunet bent down to meet the goose eye-level and was somewhat surprised that it didn't run away at the close proximity.

"did you trip the dumbass? was it your fault sam landed on his face? Huh, little guy?"

"honk! honk!"

"i thought so. good job, man." bucky pats the animal on the head gently before turning to help steve get sam off the ground.

"nothing’s broken but there's probably a sprain, can't really be sure until we get to cho." sam and bucky lift their friend from the pavement and they have no problem supporting his weight.

they began the walk back to the tower in silence. well, almost silence. there was a faint pitter-patter of tiny, webbed feet behind them that sam and bucky weren't paying attention to.

steve noticed the goose slowly waddling behind the trio and looked at sam with a smile. sam responded to steve’s happy face with a glare, not enjoying any of the situation he found himself in.

"look behind us, guys."

both men took turns looking behind them and see the goose waddling behind them patiently. sam wasn't particularly happy about the culprit from moments before trailing behind him, but bucky thought it was hilarious.

"do you know what this means?"

sam rolled his eyes because he thought the blond was about to make some sort of poetic comment about one thing for another.

bucky had paused to think about the implications of a random goose for a moment before gasping. "dude," bucky nudged sam softly, being conscious of his friend's injuries. "you’re gonna meet your soulmate, man!"

"a soulmate goose. man come on, are you out of your mind?"

"steve got his goose back during the war, i think we know enough about it."

sam had only heard vague reports of soulmate geese throughout his life, but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. the goose showed up randomly in the middle of his routine, completely throwing him off, and was now refusing to leave him alone.

"well if this is my soulmate goose, then somebody’s gotta tell tony about our newest avenger." they laughed at the implication, viciously eager to witness tony’s reaction to the newest resident of avengers hq.

it has been three days of dealing with your goose, and you were now teased at work as “bird brain”, walking into your office to see several loaves of bread covering the desk. your goose, that you had named piper once you got home, was excited at the prospect of more food, but you planned on donating most of the bread to local shelters, only keeping a couple loaves for the house.

the guest host that week was mick jagger, and he had emerged into the room “i dream of jeanie” style, startling both you and piper, who honked at him in irritation.

it was time for you to work on the song for your little sketch with him, and you had only two more days before performance night (it was thursday) to finish writing it. after settling down and getting into the right mindset, the writing process had begun.

"alright let's see," mick murmured. "let’s all go to the picnic, let's all have a drink. what rhymes with 'drink'?"

you thought for a moment and said quietly, "think?"

you weren't prepared for the absurd response you received from the man, his accent making him round mean as he barked out a loud "NO!" with an unnecessary hand gesture.

piper just about lost it. she was honking and flapping around your office in a tizzy (but staying away from mick because the man was seen as a stranger she wasn't comfortable with).

you racked your brain for another solution, something else to rhyme with 'drink' and you eventually found it: "sink?"

mick thought about it for a moment before replying with a much lighter "yes!" also paired with unwarranted pointing.

‘motherfucker, is this how you write songs?!'

thursday and friday came and went, and soon it was time for your piece to be performed by mick. du to an accidental ankle twist someone else suffered, you were forced to perform a skit live for the first time in your career. it would have been great, but there was one teensy problem: piper blatantly refused to leave your side when it was time to perform, and she would honk and bite anyone that tried to keep her from you onstage.

even poor bobby, who she had grown fond of, was taking the brunt of it. she was not allowing you to be more than a couple feet away from her, and it was almost endearing if you weren't being broadcast on national television.

apparently, piper would also be making her debut appearance on saturday night live tonight as well.

saturday had arrived, and it was sam’s day of rest. he spent the day doing the bare minimum, eating junk food and watching almost everything on netflix he could find.

he didn't stray too far from tradition, not really. it was just that now he had a goose accompanying him the entire time, honking at this and that and eating occasional pieces of popcorn that sam didn't want to share.

he didn't mind his feathered companion, he was actually quite fond of his goose at this point. whitewing (not to be confused with redwing) was the most calm goose any of them had seen, no biting or nipping and especially no honking at ungodly hours of the night.

steve was perplexed. "Are you sure whitewing hasn't done anything bad? no waking you up at night or bites when you don't feed him soon enough?"

sam would chuckle and shake his head, proud to have such a calm goose. "why are you so keen to see him misbehave? aren’t all soulmate geese like this?"

"for lack of a better word, most geese are assholes. i don't know how whitewing is so well behaved," steve balked at the very idea of all geese being so mellow and decided it was story time.

steve’s goose from the century before was the most rambunctious animal anyone had ever seen. he recounted the first and several occasions following where his soulmate goose, jimmy, fended off the blond man's alleyway attackers.

sam was extremely grateful that whitewing had less feral and goose-like tendencies. whitewing was extremely well behaved and had an almost human way about him, the way he honked in reply to sam or the rest of the team when they talked to him.

it was late in the evening when clint decided to plop down onto the couch and flick the channel to nbc, where tonight's host was mick jagger.

"why are we watching this?" sam was enjoying his sitcoms before the other bird man had showed up.

"i haven't watched it in ages, plus mick jagger is on tonight."

"alright, whatever you want."

the intro played like usual, and whitewing was perfectly complacent. they laughed in the right places with the occasional honking from the bird, and everything was great.

"hey man, look!" clint interrupted, keeping sam from being able to hear the punchline. "i think that's a goose!"

"why is there a goose? The skit has nothing to with-"

sam and clint seemed to come to the same realization at the same time as whitewing, the goose beginning to honk incessantly. he was going absolutely berserk, flapping his wings and hopping off of sam’s lap and onto the coffee table, occasionally pecking at the tv where he saw the other goose.

he was going absolutely bonkers.

"whitewing! whitewing, no! calm down!" sam scrambled to calm down his goose, but he was having none of it. the whole entire skit, whitewing was honking and flapping and being a general nuisance.

he found his soulmate.

whitewing kept at it until the screen went to a commercial, his soulmate off of the screen.

"y’know," clint spoke around a slice of pizza. when did he get pizza? "if you hurry, you could go to the studio and meet your soulmate. the show is about halfway over."

before sam could think over the proposition, tony’s voice was heard from the corridor. "somebody shut that damned bird up before I pay ramsay to cook it!"

"i’m taking care of it!"

with that, sam heads to the armory with whitewing on his tail to get his wings. once he's equipped, sam heads to the window and jumps, immediately setting his course for studio 8h and his soulmate.

you’re released to go back to your office once you finish the skit alongside mick and piper, the show almost over. you’re gathering your things lazily, knowing that you have no other responsibilities for the night.

just as you lock your office and piper is waddling beside you without a care in the world, you see kyle running towards you with a look of fear in his eyes. that fear seems to only triple when his eyes land on piper beside you.

"kyle! what’s-"

"there’s another goose on the set! no one is safe!"

wait, was he bleeding?!

you were going to try and help your friend but one look at piper sent him off the rails, the lanky man nearly falling on his ass in an attempt to skid the corner. you hoped that someone would help calm your panicked friend, seeing as you were literally the worst person for the job at the moment.

without further incident, you are able to say goodbye to cecily and mikey before you're stopped in your tracks by michael, who gives piper a funny look.

"wait, so the goose that attacked kyle wasn't piper?" You shake your head in confusion. "dude, your soulmate must have come to the set!"

piper must have either understood what your co-worker had said or she could sense a change in the studio, but she began to honk erratically and run away from you. the last thing new york needed was two feral geese running around attacking people, so you did what anyone would do and ran after her.

"piper! piper, come back!" michael laughed as you chased after your goose. while you were running, you nearly died when you heard a honk that you knew wasn't from your piper. hers were carved into your brain, and you were positive that you could pick hers out of an entire gaggle of geese, so there was indeed a second goose in the studio.

to your dismay, piper did not stop and wait, she just kept on honking and flapping and scaring people in pursuit of the other goose, poor old you having to chase her.

there was another voice you assumed was yelling at his goose since you didn't know of anyone naming their kid whitewing. your eyes were not looking straight ahead when you suddenly bumped into someone, immediately stumbling a bit before regaining your balance.

piper had stopped her honking and that scared you. did someone hurt her? was she-

her and another goose were making muted honks to each other. they sounded like affectionate honks, which is one of the weirdest sentences you ever constructed in your head. but it was true! they were cuddling close to each other and making really quiet honking noises at each other, and if that wasn’t affectionate then you didn’t know what would be.

so if piper found her soulmate, that means yours was-

"i hope comin' to your job was okay. whitewing wasn't gonna give up until I left, so here we are." your eyes were dragged from the touching scene of piper and her special goose to a pair of dark brown irises that radiated warmth and a promise of happy days.

you were absolutely dumbstruck. your mouth was unable to form coherent words, so you decided to take in the appearance of your soulmate. he was wearing a soft grey tee and sweatpants, and socks without shoes. did he realize how unsanitary the streets of new york were?

but upon further investigation, you realize that he probably didn't walk to the studio. on his back was what you would normally call a jetpack, but when you recognize the face your mind completes the puzzle: your soulmate is sam wilson, otherwise known as the falcon. holy shit.

"uh yeah of course, i guess you flew here? no sane person in new york would walk around barefoot in the street." did you really just say that?!

sam nodded and then remembered that he was in his pajamas in front of his soulmate without any shoes. "yeah, he wasn't gonna stop attacking the tv once he saw uh…"

you realized he was asking for your goose’s name, and so you hastily gave it to him.

"yeah, once he saw piper, he went wild. caused more chaos in five minutes than he did in five days!"

you laugh, the nervousness falling away as you recount the story of you first meeting with piper.

people are staring at the pajama-clad avenger and his soulmate, their geese finally satisfied. after all, it wasn't every day so many people were able to watch soulmate geese (and their people) meet for the first time.

sam gently took your hand, his thumb smoothing the skin on the back of it, just listening to you talk. you asked him a question about whitewing and he was in the middle of telling you when he cut himself off. "i just realized i don't even know your name!"

in most scenarios you’d be slightly put off by this, but you didn't have an issue because of the specific circumstances. if he weren't an avenger you wouldn't have known his either, and plus, no one really pays attention to the little rat writers. you give him your name and smile when he introduces himself, his voice even helping show off the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

with impeccable goose timing, piper and whitewing honk at you to hurry your introductions and leave the studio.

"do you want to fly back to your place , or can I drive you?" it was a risk to ask him such a question, but you were genuinely concerned. you hoped he wouldn't think you were trying to jump his bones only minutes after meeting him so you used (terrible) humor to show your intentions. "you shouldn't fly so late at night without headlights, no matter how high up you get."

sam’s laughter was infectious and soon you joined him, your geese about to get more irritated with their humans.

"yeah, I'd like that. lead the way, soulmate." piper and whitewing honk as the two of you head to the lobby hand in hand, the birds waddling behind you just as happy as soulmate geese could be.

[offda-rails-art]

Been a while since I’ve enjoyed art. I finally finished my story-no color becuase paint is expensive and I can expand more by doing what I love most-sketching. Slight gore warning, like typical horror movie gore⚠️

Thank you for anyone following me recently, even though I haven’t been very active. I hope this makes up for it. Peace and love. Lochlan’s story part one👇

The countryside of Hennessy had a horrible storm roll in. It poured endlessly all night and into morning. The seemingly endless pounding rain made everything a muddy slippery mess, and with that the tracks were overflowed with water. Travel for any engine was dangerous so it was decided that everyone would take the day off and wait out the storm inside. Old Red, Donner, and Cracker Jack had already been in the roundhouse that night and early in the morning they were told “no work for today. Too dangerous.”

Lochlan had still been on his job pulling a long train all night. Something that had been expected to be finished by early morning was delayed by the rain. Lochlan went along the tracks carefully and managed to deliver his train by late afternoon meanwhile the rest of the engines back at the roundhouse were confined to their berths all day. And with that the group of 3 were very bored.

Lochlan backed his way into his respective berth, he was soaked from being in the down pour all day. He was also visibly tired from his tedious journey of start stop all through the wet slippery tracks. Before the poor big engine could get a word out Cracker Jack piped up. “About time! Reds been going on and on about silly stories. We’ve traded back and forth on interesting ones of our own. Well, Donner and I at least. Reds giving the whole “Wild West romance, forbidden engine/human love” spiel again.” Cracker Jack groaned.

“My recounts of pistol packing cowgirls are not romance stories! I’m simply making it clear that women are just as dangerous as men! That’s all!” Red growled quick to defend himself. His face turning slightly pink.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that you old fart.” Cracker Jack smirked. Even Donner gave a slight chuckle in agreement.

Lochlan smiled and shook what water dripped down his face off. Cracker Jack grinned up at Lochlan expectantly. “Suppose you have anything of your own to share?” Cracker Jack asked, his grin widened hoping that Lochlan would have a story to tell. At least one that wouldn’t put him to sleep. Or any about his love interests.

“Me? What kind of story? I don’t do much that interesting.” Lochlan sighed and tried to think of anything worth telling.

“Lochlan. You’re huge. You see the world from a different point of view everyday. You do the more than any other engine on the railway. You’ve been everywhere, you must have something?” Cracker Jack retorted. Lochlan frowned and clicked his tongue in thought. A loud crack of thunder boomed in the background and shook the roundhouse. The 4 engines jumped at the sudden loud noise. The natural fearful reaction to the loud noise gave Lochlan an idea.

“What about a scary story?” He smiled and knew exactly what to share. The other three raised their brows in interest. Cracker Jack noticeably grew attentive.

“Yes! I think we can all agree that horror over a whole romance novel is sure to help pass the time!” Cracker Jack grinned. It took Red a second to process the slight dig made at him. He only grumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Good! I have just the one! It happened the very first week I arrived here.” Lochlan grinned and cleared his throat to begin.

When Lochlan first arrived at Hennessy he was immediately tasked with pulling long trains of heavy and important cargo for distances many other engines couldn’t travel. He traveled from late at night till very early morning so naturally his rest time in the afternoon was spent in any noisy bustling yard he could manage to get a break in. Most of the time Lochlan couldn’t sleep with all the noise. He didn’t mind not napping but peace and quiet was something he could definitely enjoy. It seemed that wouldn’t be an option for a while with his break schedule. So, Lochlan decided to eavesdrop on his human counterparts. They did after all have interesting things to share. While in a yard one afternoon the prefect opportunity to eavesdrop came in, a group of engineers decided to take their break not far away from him. They sat down on some old flatbeds and joked around for a while. The oldest man in the group began talking about his past colleague who was a Native American. He recounted all kinds of interesting things his colleague shared. From ancestral meanings to cultural symbols, but then he brought up something strange. Lochlan grew curious and listened in best he could. The engineer asked the others if they ever heard what a “wendigo” was. The two men shook their heads. Lochlan listened in as the man explained to them what it was, and the reason for bringing it up.

The engineer grew serious before beginning, “ a couple years back a rancher went missing out by his home just a good ten miles from the south side of Hennessy. No one knew how he could possibly go missing, he was in touch with the locals and was a very smart man. He knew the wildlife and his homeland well enough to where an animal attack was ruled out. He carried a gun on him all the time to stay safe and no one would want to harm a lonely rancher with not much of anything to give anyway. Robbery and murder was ruled out too, especially after his home was found kept well with nothing out of the ordinary or missing. He just seemed to have vanished along with his horse and dog. The sheriff decided he could’ve left unannounced for private reasons and perhaps he would turn up soon. It wasn’t until a week later a hunter stumbled across what was left of the poor rancher. He was so severely mangled that the only thing that showed proof it was him was his hat, horse and dog. Whatever creature that did that couldn’t possibly be a bear, or even a pack of wolves. Only the rancher looked like something had eaten parts of him. His horse and dog were for the most part untouched, the possibility a rabid bear attacked him was brought up due to the massive claw marks and slashes embedded in his horse and dog. And how badly the man was shredded. But what bear could be that big? A search for whatever rabid bear or sick pack of wolves was put out but nothing was recovered.

No one wanted to admit but they were scared. The scene was so brutal it seemed almost impossible another living thing could do that. It was swept under the rug and everyone tried to forget about it in hopes it would just go away. It seems there’s no answer for what happened right? Well your wrong, that’s were this “wendigo” comes in. Wendigos have an insatiable hunger for human flesh, they crave taunting people and torturing them until giving them a brutal horrible death only to feast on their scared poor souls. They tower above the tallest pine trees, make blood curdling screams, and can strip the flesh from your bones instantly. He wasn’t attacked by a rabid animal, he was murdered and eaten alive by one of those foul beasts. Only something that big and mercilessly brutal could’ve done such a thing. And why eat just the person? An animal would’ve taken all it could get. Dog and horse would’ve been part of the main course as well.”

The two other men who listened in shuddered upon the end of the tale. Lochlan was intrigued but was interrupted by his crew coming to fetch him from his break. He needed to get back to work and couldn’t listen in anymore. He sighed and set off to collect his train, he had plenty of time to ponder what he just heard on his long quiet journey.

Lochlan enjoyed the unexplainable, everything had an explanation. An answer. While the story of the wendigo was interesting to him he couldn’t help but believe it was simply a tall tale. Even with how big and goofy the engine could be, he wasn’t gullible. The only way he’d believe something is if he witnessed it first hand. And as far as he knew he never saw any forest animal that towered over pine trees or had a specific desire for human flesh. But for some reason something inside him wouldn’t let go of it. The story was kept in the back of his mind and not forgotten.

Lochlans first week on Hennessy’s railway was almost over. He already gotten familiar with the area and his routes in the short time he was there. His job went swillingly and it was something he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his days doing. Oh, and no strange gigantic monsters hungry for human flesh appeared. There was one route Lochlan hadn’t traveled yet, and the unkept longer line of tracks was only taken if necessary but no reason was ever really given as to why it wasn’t used. But with only almost a week of experience on the railway he had a lot more to learn and explore.

While Lochlan pulled a long train of cargo with the morning newspaper edition, important mail, and dairy that needed to get to its destination quickly in order to not spoil he came to a stop when he realized his normal route back into Hennessy was blocked. Someone had derailed and a big mess of tar trucks were scattered everywhere. Lochlans engineers grew frustrated and argued with the crewmen in charge of cleaning up the wreck. “Listen pal, it’s going to take all night to clean this mess up. You’ll just have to wait until morning to pass through or go through the south side.” The agitated worker groaned and pointed up ahead to a route Lochlan wasn’t familiar with.

“Well. We most certainly ain’t got time to wait. I’ve got the morning paper to deliver and dairy that will spoil! Come on big feller we’ll just have to go through the south side which will still delay our schedule because some incompetent idiot can’t operate an engine worth Jack shit.” Lochlans engineer growled and made his way back to his cab. Lochlan looked on curiously up ahead at this new route. The grass ahead was severely overgrown, and by the looks of the track no one seemed to have been down it for a decade. His cow plow would come in handy to shove away any overgrowth that littered the track up ahead. Lochlan puffed down the track without incident. He sliced through any overgrowth that littered his path, and was thankful for his bright headlamp because it seemed any lights that lit up the track before had been left not repaired. Lochlan had come upon something odd as he plunged further down the unused route. A herd of deer were stopped close by the tracks, what was odd to him was that the animals didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. It was normal for the forest animals to hurriedly clear the way when any loud engine chuffed close, to the animals an engine was another predator to run away from. But the large herd of deer stood stalk still, their backs turned towards him and their heads cocked up looking into the distance at something. They didn’t dare move and their fear was focused on something Lochlan couldn’t see. Lochlan raised a brow and chuffed by but the deer didn’t move. Even as steam whooshed out and his own massive frame rumbled on the rails shaking the ground. The deer seemed to care less about him. It was one of the most peculiar things he had seen, but he had no idea it was about to get worse.

Tumblr limits posts and I have to many illustrations to do one part. So I’ll have to skeet part two in another separate post. Stick around for the second part if you enjoy so far. Thanks so much for people who’ve stuck around my blog and actually wanted to read my stories. I really really appreciate it.

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 2

Oh, look, there more! :D Second chapter for my Ryn/Red 20s AU brought you by @shepherds-of-haven ‘s summer event 

------

True to his word, Red called just a couple days later--with supremely perfect timing, too; Xaeryn had just returned from following a lead. She was in the process of unpinning her hat when the telephone rang and she ll but dove across the room, hatpin in hand, to answer it.

“Shrike Investigations,” she said with that borderline-cheerful professionalism people expected from anyone running a business.

“Xaeryn?” He sounded curious verging on concerned. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, hittin’ on all eight,” she assured him with a breathless laugh. “I just got back from chasing down a lead.” She left off how literal that was this time as she glared at the mud on her shoes. “He was... more help than he meant to be, I think. I’m just grateful it didn’t turn into another dead-end.”

Red laughed. “Glad to hear it.” The line crackled a bit in the moment’s silence before he continued, “I had a chance to do some research, turned up a few interesting things.”

Generally interesting, or Red-interesting? Xaeryn wondered with a fond smile, remembering his fascination with even the minutiae of everything he read. “Like what?” 

“At least some of what happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, and it’s a bit of a mess.” He laughed again, sheepishly this time, and Xaeryn pictured him running a hand through his hair. “It’s better explained in person. Should I come to you--”

“I’ll come there,” Xaeryn offered. “You’re doing me a favor, it’s the least I can do. And besides” --she grinned, even knowing he couldn’t see her-- “it’s a long drive and I wouldn’t want you to forget any of your notes.”

There was a long-suffering sigh, punctuated by a chuckle that made the line pop. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No more than you let me live down the apple tree,” she retorted sweetly. “Does it work for me to come today? The guild’s getting antsy with the exhibit date drawing closer, but if you’re busy...”

“I have a lecture in... just under an hour.” Red paused, likely doing the same travel time vs lecture time calculations she was. “If you left soon, you’d probably get here just as I’m finishing, we could talk after?”

“Sounds good to me,” Xaeryn said scraping mud off her shoe against the chair leg. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, then.”

“Mm, see you then.”

She took a moment examining her shoes after they hung up and decided it would be best to change them before she left. Wouldn’t want to be tracking mud through Solhadur’s halls.

---

She couldn’t entirely bite back a laugh when she arrived and found Red behind his desk, the pencil woven between his fingers tapping against one of the three books open across the desk’s surface. “Well, I just lost a five lyss wager.”

“Huh?” His hair fell in his eyes when he looked up. “Over what?”

Xaeryn smiled as she leaned against the edge of the desk. “I was certain you would get carried away with jawing about whatever your lecture was on and I would be here first. Fortunately it was a wager with myself” --she leaned over to peek at what he was reading--”so there’s no real loss.”

Red laughed and nudged one of the books toward her. “Normally you would have won. I thought of something I wanted to double-check before you got here, so I made sure to end on time. The students thank you for that, by the way.”

She snickered and skimmed through the presented history text. “They’re most welcome. What did you learn?”

Red pushed out of his chair and circled the desk to give them the same angle on the book she held. “There’s a decade or so immediately after its loss that’s unaccounted for, but there are records from travelers who mention encountering a warlord deep in Jalis territory with a pendent that sounds an awful lot like Solimer’s torch. Here.” He leaned over to flip a few pages back from where she was and pointed at a sketched illustration.

While rudimentary in nature, it did bear a striking resemblance to the photographs Mr. Syndran had given her. Xaeryn hummed a quiet agreement, noting the sketched pendent seemed to be on an armband rather than loose as it was now, as she started reading the relevant text around the illustration. 

“Lean on details,” she frowned, tracing a finger over the words as she read.

“That one is,” Red agreed. “They were more concerned with other things, barely mention the pendent in their description of the warlord. It’s just the only one with an illustration.” He tugged the book away from her, swapped it for one of the others. “Going off the description, I think this is the same piece. But you can draw your own conclusions.” He sat in one of the chairs and Xaeryn stayed perched on the edge of the desk, one foot swinging idly a few inches off the ground as she read.

From the sound of it--bronze coiled around a jet black stone, said to be its owner’s lucky talisman--she was inclined to agree with Red.  The territory of this warlord, however, was rather far from the usual routes ascribed to the Solimer’s desert travels. How did it get there? she mused. Likely during the decade it had vanished, but she couldn’t even begin to guess the method. She’ was just finishing with the account when she caught Red smiling out of the corner of her eye.

She let the book dip to look at him instead. “What?”

Red’s eyes twinkled as he nodded at the hem of her mid-calf skirt. “That lead you mentioned chasing earlier wouldn’t have involved mud puddles, would it?”

Xaeryn followed his gaze and groaned at the mud staining the dusky rose fabric. “I wasn’t expecting him to run,” she muttered, flicking at the mud with one hand as she moved to the other chair.

“Your suspects usually just wait around, obligingly, for you to interrogate them, then?” 

She rolled  her eyes at his teasing tone and briefly debated whacking him with the book. “He wasn’t a suspect, he was a witness,” she retorted primly, setting the book back on his desk. “Potentially. Though with how cagey he was being, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was guilty of something.”

“A mystery for another day,” Red said with a grin.

“Precisely. As for today’s mystery, have you found anything more recent than this?” She tapped the book. “It’s still several hundred years ago.”

“Not much, and some of it’s contradictory; that’s part of why I said in person was better.” He ran one hand through his hair. “That territory is so deep in the Jalis desert, not many go there and come out again. Those who don’t live there frequently die visiting.”

“Charming place,” Xaeryn said dryly.

“Mmhm. It makes getting records difficult, to say the least. There’s a mention of this warlord’s territory being conquered by another, but no mention of what was taken as potential spoils, and the next thing I’ve found resembling Solimer’s torch is is when it was discovered in the grave of a different chieftain, name unknown--though there are theories--a hundred years ago and almost two hundred miles from where the nearest previous records indicated it being.”

“How’s a chieftain’s name unknown?” she frowned. 

“He was buried with the honors afforded warlords and chieftains, but any record of his identity had worn off in the desert wind, if it was there in the first place,” Red explained.

“And these theories about who he was?” 

“Numerous and with various levels of support,” he said wryly. “But if you want the longer version...?”

Xaeryn chuckled. “Always.” 

They spent the next hour or so discussing the myriad guesses people had made as to this mystery chieftain’s name, as well as the other details Red had unearthed about the pendent, and various sources’ credibility. They only got caught up in one or two rabbit trails of good-natured debate over peer review and scholarly reputation or historical patterns of desert travel. (Which was pretty good for them.)

“There are a lot of gaps,” Red acknowledged, thumbing the pages of one book. “But I have a lot more I can read to help with filling them in.” He twirled one hand to gesture at the shelves that lined the room.

“You don’t have to-”

“Xaeryn, have you ever known me to be unhappy reading a book?” he asked with a warm smile.

“Well, no,” Xaeryn laughed. “But you’re so busy now, Headmaster.”

Red arched a brow but didn’t further protest her use of the title. “I always have time for you,” he said with a shrug, then cleared his throat and pushed to his feet even as her heart pounded and she sternly informed herself he hadn’t meant it like that. (She was grateful his circling the desk meant he missed the moment of broken composure that surely flashed across her face.) “And research is even more fun when it’s for a purpose. Bottom line for you so far...” He picked up his dropped pencil and started shuffling through everything on his desk in search of paper.

She grinned and held out her notepad. “Here.”

He flashed a sheepish smile as he took it. “Thank you.” He flipped to the first blank page and started writing as he talked. “Descendants of either that unknown chieftain or the one whose wife originally found the torch would have the strongest claims of ownership.”

“If I can find them,” Xaeryn said dryly. “And if one of them’s not already the owner on record who lent the pendent to the exhibit.” She bit her lower lip. “I think I need to talk to Mr. Syndran again.”

And depending on what he told her, her own research into genealogy might be called for.

“Probably your best next step.” Red finished writing and handed back her notepad, several pages scrawled with bullet-points summation of what he’d found.  “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Xaeryn smiled when she saw the notes were in their shorthand.  “Nice touch.”

He smiled and raised one shoulder in a shrug. “It takes less space, and you did say this is a secret...”

“Very true.” She flipped the pad closed and tucked it back in her handbag. “I really do appreciate your help, this wasn’t a a small request, and you got me some answers in very short order.”

“I’m not done reading, Xaeryn,” Red said, voice rife with amusement. He waved at the surrounding shelves again. “Like I said, there’s a lot more to check.”

I always have time for you.

“As long as you don’t mind, I would love to hear anything else you learn,” Xaeryn said with a smile. Far be it from her to stand between Liefred Antiqua and a research project he was excited about. She’d sooner snatch an ice cream away from a child. 

“I’ll call if I find anything else useful,” Red promised, already shifting toward one bookshelf.

She nodded, biting back a laugh and hoping he had a very loose definition of the word ‘useful’. “I’ll look forward to that, then.” Her neck and ears warmed and she hastily added, “more information is always helpful.” She stood, flicking at the stubborn mud on her skirt again. Next time she went interview-hunting, she was wearing trousers. “Though you have me off to an excellent start.” She headed for the door, paused with her hand on the knob. “Thank you for that, Liefred.”

“Anytime.” He leaned against the corner of his desk. “You can still call me Red, y’know, Xaeryn. Everyone does, so it’s hardly going to seem too familiar.”

True as that might be here at Solhadur, Haven was a different story. And she wouldn’t want to slip up. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Xaeryn said softly. “Until next time?”

“Mm-hm.” Something flickered in his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, then flashed her an easy smile. “I’ll look forward to it, then. I’m glad we reconnected.”

She smiled back as she twisted the knob. “Me, too.”

She didn’t have many friends, it was good to get one of the best ones back.

---

It was edging toward evening when Xaeryn made it back to her office. Which made it a bit of a surprise --fortuitous as it was-- to find Mr. Syndran waiting for her.

“Did we have a meeting I forgot about?” she asked apologetically as she unlocked the door. (They hadn’t, she was positive, but it was a diplomatic way of probing for why he was here.)

“We did not,” Mr. Syndran replied, arching a brow in a knowing look. “I had some other business in the area and decided to stop by in person to see how you are coming along, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn laughed and gestured toward the same chair he’d sat in on his first visit. “Then you have very good timing, instincts, or both, Mr. Syndran. I had some things I wanted to ask you; background information.”

His brow creased ever so slightly. “Should you not be far beyond mere background information? Have you not made progress?”

She sighed and sat in her chair behind the desk, pulling her notepad from her handbag and turning to a blank page. “Not of the ‘I’ve narrowed it down to two blocks, I just don’t know which house’ variety, no.” She tapped her pen against the desk. “But I have leads on suspects.”

Syndran gave a grunt that may have been displeasure. “And your questions for me?”

“Like I said; clarifying background information. When the Couriers were contracted to handle transport, how much were you told about the pieces?”

“Only the relevant details.” He brushed invisible lint off his sleeve. “Each one’s value, recorded owner, any special care instructions.”

Xaeryn nodded, pen poised over her pad. “I don’t suppose you recall the owner listed for the pendent?”

He paused to think a moment. “I’d have to have my secretary check to be completely certain, but I believe it was a Ms. Aescar. The name didn’t ring any bells for me.”

“And would I need to speak with the Hall of History and Culture if I wanted to find out how to contact her, or do you know?”

Syndran shook his head. “Whitestone Couriers were merely transporting the relics, Miss Shrike. Any communication with the owners was the concern of the museum curators. Why would you need to talk to her?”

“I might not,” Xaeryn said, scribbling the information down. “I just like to have all my chickens in the coop ahead of time, so there’s no scrambling if something winds up time-sensitive down the road.”

“Smart.” Syndran gave a nod of approval. “So long as you don’t spend so much time preparing for unlikely eventualities that you lose more promising leads.”

She back back a tart ‘I know how to do my job’ and nodded. “Of course.”

He paused a moment, lips pursed in thought. “I did have a wonder, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn cocked her head. “Oh?”

“Given the... likelihood this theft occurred somewhere between city customs and the museum and the utter lack of details my drivers have been able to provide about that stretch of the journey” --his expression soured-- “would it be possible for you to... revisit the scene with your abilities?” His brows arched meaningfully.  “You are Argentis, are you not? The benefit of hindsight might allow you to pick up on something relevant that didn’t register in the moment for my people.”

She tapped her pen against her notepad. “I can give it a go, Mr. Syndran, but I’m more a Scryer than a Sage; my strongest talent is finding things in the present, not viewing the past. Though this is the recent past,” she mused. “Perhaps recent enough that with a focus from the caravan I’d have decent luck.”

“I’ll see what I can find for you.” Mr. Syndran pushed to his feet. “Anything in particular that will work best?”

“For viewing the past like this... something from the event is necessary, and the closer to central it is, the clearer a picture I’ll be able to get.” She leaned back in her chair. “Frankly, if you don’t mind my doing so, coming to the Couriers’ garage and using one of the trucks as my touchstone would work best.”

“Oh, that’s very doable,” he said with a nod. “As it’s getting late, what say we do it tomorrow?”

“Nine AM?” Xaeryn suggested.

“Acceptable.” He headed for the door. “I shall see you then, Miss Shrike.”

“See you then, Mr. Syndran.” Xaeryn waited until the door closed behind him to let out a slow breath. Scrying was easy enough, even if she didn’t always succeed, but peering into the past was usually a draining exercise for her. Mr. Syndran was correct, though; it was very likely the best way to glean new leads. Even if it meant she’d need a nap after.

She pushed to her feet and locked the door. One more glance over her notes before she called it a night. So it was fresh in her mind and she could mull it over.

She tried not to get too distracted by the difference between her small, crowded shorthand and Red’s larger, loose scrawl--he had a dreamer’s handwriting, which she’d teased him about when they were younger(he’d rolled his eyes but hadn’t denied it). The memory had her smiling all through dinner.

---

The weather was nice enough the next day Xaeryn opted to walk to the Whitestone Couriers’ garage, though she did take an umbrella in case the rain that hadn’t threatened the last few days decided to make an appearance. Mr. Syndran was waiting for her, looking all the more proper in these rough-shod surroundings. 

“Right on time, Miss Shrike,” he said with a tight smile. “This way.” He led her at a brisk pace to a gleaming black truck, the canvas cover a near-immaculate tan. “This is the one that was carrying the crate with the pendent, among other things.”

“Right.” Xaeryn circled to the passenger side, letting her fingers trail over the cool metal until they rested on the door. “I can’t make any promises, but let’s see if we can find anything useful.”

She pressed her hand flat against the side of the truck and murmured the correct ritual, felt her magic rise to do as she bade.

The scene around her--Mr. Syndran, the garage, everything but the truck--faded into shadow. Her view shifted, as if she were riding shotgun in the truck or hanging out the window as it crept through Haven’s streets. Tings were flickery and dim, the colors bled out and faded as she looked around. I don’t know how long I can hold this. Xaeryn peered intently at  what she could see of the surroundings, the other vehicles, the people, buildings, noting everything she could, no matter how mundane. A woman with a red hat, brim hiding most of her face. A young boy and his dog watching the caravan with interest. A man with vivid green eye and a small smile lounging against a wall, following the trucks’ progress from under his slouched cap. The cat that almost darted in front of the preceding truck before it spooked. The flapper with an armful of bracelets, glancing surreptitiously across the street-

The scene flickered sharply, her grasp on the ritual fading, the images slipping away--

And Xaeryn was back in the garage, leaning against the truck as her knees went to jelly. The few prior occasions she’d played the sage had left her feeling like she stood up too fast when they ended, and this was no exception.

“Are you alright, Miss Shrike?” Mr. Syndran gestured to a nearby worker who’d stopped to gawp and the man scuttled off.

“Just fine,” she said with a nod, turning to sit on the truck’s running board as she tugged out her notepad and rapidly scrawled out everything she’d seen. “Sage work can be taxing if it’s not your main talent, that’s all.”

He watched in silence as she scribbled down the vision’s contents, only speaking again when she finished. “Did you see anything of note?”

“Nothing too blatant, or it would have stood out even to the drivers,” Xaeryn said, leaning her head back against the truck. “But there were some passers-by that caught my attention...”

Mr. Syndran listened to her descriptions with utmost focus, but interrupted when she reached the green-eyes lounger. “Do you remember any other details about him?” he demanded, his hands twitching to a fractionally tighter grip on the head of his walking stick.

“Tall,” Xaeryn said slowly. The worker Syndran had sent away returned with a tumbler of water, which she accepted with a nod of thanks as she dug through the memory. “I think brown hair, but he was wearing a hat. Bright red vest, blue and green scarf ‘round his neck-”

“Thieves guild,” Syndran muttered. Despite the distaste on the words, a panther-like grin curved his lips. “I should have known.” The distaste shifted to satisfaction. “That would be your next lead, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn arched a brow. “Do tell.”

“Thieves guild has been a thorn in our side for years,” Syndran explained, “They aren’t even a true guild; more a loose association of ruffians and cutpurses who only call themselves such in another jape at legitimate businesses.” He sniffed. “They make their base in the warrened streets of Ashtown, but I believe I have worked out where their true headquarters are concealed. I can give you some direction, if you’re recovered enough to follow me to my office?”

She nodded, pushed to her feet. “Lead the way.”

It was good to have something tangible to pursue. Hopefully the weather would hold so she could follow it up now. Ashtown was no fun in the rain.

[wann-der-lusst]

Cliché Drawing Sesh

By: Margareth Angelique Asico

"How do you decide on which reference you're going to draw next?"

"No one has ever asked me that before, well... I guess I just draw what I like. Why ask such a

question?"

"Nothing really. Just curious"

The sound of the pencil lead brushing through the paper, the sheer sunset filling the classroom, the sound of the birds chirping and the boy sitting in front of you was enough for you to get lost in your own world. It made your heart flutter on how much you're enjoying the scenery that your orbs are witnessing as you continue to draw- it was perfect you thought. You asked Joaquin to be your reference for your art project which took you by surprise that he actually agreed on such a sudden request. A chance like this doesn't happen every day so grabbing the opportunity of you not having to give excuses why your sketchbook was filled with his face would be great.

"Oi Santiago, someone's calling"

Instantly snapping off of your peaceful paradise, an immediate rush of adrenaline was released as the thought of him seeing your wallpaper made you quickly grab your phone in Joaquin's hand like your life depended on it.

"Ah yes, Hello?"

You answered the phone while glaring at Joaquin who was absolutely confused on your previous action since it was out of character of your usual self who is calm and composed. Nevertheless, you just saw him shrug it off which made you relax a bit.

"In front of the water fountain? The vending machine there? Why?"

"No, it’s okay, we'll be heading there anyways. I had some work to do so..."

“Right I'll see you"

Closing your sketchbook, you gave him an awkward smile as you began packing your things. He stood up from his seat- getting the idea that your drawing session has ended. You slid the door open exiting the classroom while Joaquin walked beside you.

"You're acting a little strange today" You chuckled with the sudden question.

"Am I?"

"Yeah"

Not being very expressive towards people, observing surroundings is much more preferable- to you at least. You figured that people tend to approach you less since they find you a bit intimidating. But given the circumstances, Joaquin never failed to surprise you on how well he can see through your reserved expressions which made you feel warm- important somehow. It made you feel as if someone's actually interested not only for your physical attributes, but for what's actually going on inside your mind and how you feel despite not being able to express it much.

The walk was quiet but relaxing, you were taken away from your thoughts as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder.

"Oh right, that's my friend... She was the one who called a while ago"

You walked towards your friend who seemed to have a companion whom you are not much familiar with. She leaned into the guy whispering something, giving you a smirk while raising her eyebrows before sneakily leaving. The boy looked incredibly nervous giving you the idea on what his intentions would be.

"Right, I'll get going for practice for the swimming club. Good luck to you two"

An intense, yet awkward atmosphere filled the place as the both of you stood there waiting for something to happen which actually took quite some time.

"Uhm, Santiago. I-I've been wanting to tell you this but I never had the courage to do so. I was... I was wondering if you would like to go out with me-"

Your attention dividing as a familiar scent went past through your direction observing him with your peripheral vision as he slowly disappeared from your sight.

"Hey uhm, as much as I want to... I'm sorry but I'm actually interested in somebody else..."

His expression immediately turns into a frown as soon as he hears you speak...obviously hurting from your response. You tried to comfort him as much as you could just so that it can lift a bit of the weight you've caused him which was not much of a help. He started walking away from you as soon as the conversation ended with sadness radiating his aura. You couldn't help but feel sorry but you were sure you already have someone to lend your heart to.

"Well, you seemed to be pretty popular around the boys." Joaquin exclaimed, coming out of nowhere.

"Aren't you supposed to be practicing for the swimming club?”

"I thought so too, but we were just called for a meeting."

"Is that so? Well, to be clear I am not in any way popular with the boys"

"You are Santiago, you are."

"How are you so sure?"

"Santiago, how many guys have confessed to you? How many of our classmates tried to take you on a date? If anyone's blind here, it would be you. I don't get it why you wouldn't date any of them though."

"Well, it looks like I'm not the only one who's acting strange today. Also, I have to finish the sketches so I wouldn't have to bother you from your next practice."

"Right, we can stay at the gym if you like since it'll be cold here."

You started sketching as soon as you've pulled out your art materials from your bag and once again, lost in your own little world. You were focusing on Joaquin's eyes - those brown eyes that looked as if they were shining, you wondered how he would look at someone he admires. His

proportions are outstanding, his build may be slim but the muscles which are gradually developing from his swimming practices are showing.. It would probably feel great to cuddle with him. His hands are perfect, his fingers are slender and you wondered how it'll feel like if you were to intertwine your hands with his. You thought to yourself how fortunate you are to have this chance to observe how beautiful this man is built, it is more than enough. Every imperfection seemed perfect when it’s him, it's unfair how incredibly handsome this man is and how he swiftly catches your attention. You drew every angle of his face as if you're drawing the final piece, you didn't want to mess up anything. You wanted to capture his amazing features; he surely is one of a kind. How can someone be so salty towards others be so considerate when it comes to you? Someone who doesn't give full attention to something he's not involved with will be so attentive when listening to your stories. How he notices everything that unease you despite your almost-emotionless face… Maybe he cares for me? You thought. Maybe I have a chance? Should I tell him how I feel?

You were once again, brought to reality with your phone ringing. A hand swiftly taking the phone

away from you making your heart jump from nervousness that you didn't even have the chance to see who's calling you.

"GIVE IT BACK"

A smirk forming on his face while holding the phone above his head

"Fine, reach it then"

"That's too high!"

He began to tease you by giving you your phone but immediately pulling it away once you're close.

"I didn't even get to see who was calling!"

"Really? I'll answer it then"

"This is so unlike you.."

Fear takes over your body as you watch his fingers tap on the answer button, knowing that you'll

lose him the moment the call ends. You were trembling as if you've never been this scared all your life. You tried to desperately snatch the phone while he was talking but it was no use.

The call has been going on for a while and you had no interest on what and who he was talking to. You were about to snatch the phone but failed when he wrapped you into a tight hug with his arm.

He is way stronger than you leaving you no choice but to give up on not being caught. You were

contemplating on how you should react when he finally saw what you've been hiding. Every second that passed was like hell for you that you couldn't even enjoy how close you are to him…

"Okay, bye"

You didn't even bother looking at him despite knowing the call had ended. You wouldn't want to remember how he looked when he finally saw your wallpaper of him candidly eating his strawberry shortcake in a café which you secretly took the first and only time you hung out together outside of school.

Eyes looking down, you took a deep breath accepting what he'll eventually do. His grip lessened, releasing you from the hug. It felt like you were drifting kilometers away from each other. He placed his hand over your shoulders, putting your hair at your back as you feel his fingers trace your jawline lifting your chin up. You look at him teary eyed, wondering if this will be the last time you'll see him this close.

His eyes deemed, he never looked this serious before making your heart leap from the sudden change of expression. His other hand finding its way to your back forcing you to come closer to him making you jolt. He was leaning in front of your face, he was so close that you could feel his breath tickle your lips as you felt your heart racing.

"So is this what you meant when you said you draw what you like?" He said as his lips curled for a smirk.

"uh uhm uh”

Cutting you off, he pressed his lips against your forehead enabling you to process the situation. He pulled away so slowly that you felt every part of his lips losing contact with yours. Your body not being able to move, you tried to at least calm yourself just enough to be able to process the

situation.

"Joaquin...."

Your ears are tingling from the permission granted to you. Face now tinted red from everything that has happened, he pulled you into a back hug digging his face onto your neck sending shivers down your spine.

"What the hell came into your mind to do that?"

"Nothing really. I was just curious"

"Si-since when did you know?"

"I didn't, I was the one who called you on your phone. Turned out better than I expected. Couldn't ask for a better outcome."

"You jerk"

"I love you too"

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Kodachrome (5/5)

Sinclairs x f!Reader

Warning: Cursing

It was coming up on six o’clock in Ambrose. You and Lester made it back about half an hour ago and settled in to wait for Bo and Vincent to return. They arrived around fifteen minutes after you.

Bo was now smoking out of a cracked window, insisting it was too hot to stand outside but knowing you didn’t like the smell lingering in the house. He was still in his long-sleeved uniform. You knew better than to tell him to change or roll up his sleeves at least, but you wanted him to be comfortable. There was no way he wasn’t dying from the way he was sweating through it. It was better to let him make that call on his own, however; and to not utter a single word about it in the rare case he actually did decide to change.  

Vincent was sitting up on the couch sketching with Jonesy taking up the other half. He ditched his sweater, wearing an old tank instead. He also had his hair pulled up from his neck in a loose ponytail, but still wore his mask.  

Lester – who had all but tossed his hat and over shirt across the room upon returning home – was helping you in the kitchen, distributing the sweet tea and lemonade. He took Vincent a glass of lemonade before settling himself on the floor with his own glass of sweet tea. You followed close behind with Bo’s sweet tea and a lemonade for yourself.

“It’s not a beer, but it’s still good.” You said as you approached Bo. He stubbed out his cigarette and took the glass from you.

“I suppose it’ll do.” Bo said, feigning a sigh of disappointment. He took a few sips and glanced at the glass and back to you, “Damn, if that isn’t good.”

“Glad you approve.” You said as you took a drink of your lemonade.  

“So, you take any good pictures after I kicked you to the curb?” Bo asked

“In fact, I did. No thanks to you.” You said cheekily, glancing at your camera and photographs that you had set on the pool table “I’m going to fill an album with my cheesy, crappy pictures and you know what I’m going to do after that?”

“I gotta know.” Bo deadpanned

“I’m going to fill another.” You said eagerly “And another and so on, so forth.”

“If that’s what gets you outta bed in the mornin’.” Bo said with a shrug. Before you could fire back, a rumble from outside interrupted you. You and Bo looked outside to see storm clouds suddenly rolling in above your little town, “God damn it.”

“What? It’s just a little rain.” You said with excitement, “Might even cool things down a little.”

“I just repainted the fence in front of the apartments. I’m gonna have to fuckin’ do it all again.” Bo huffed

“Don’t worry about it right now, Bo. I’ll help you redo it, if you want.” You offered, “We’re having fun, no need to get worked up.”

“Whatever.” Bo said glaring out the window, willing the clouds away. With that, the rain started falling, tapping on the roof and walls of the home.

“It’s not so bad. I love the rain!” you said trying to lift his spirits.

“What’s there to love? The humidity? The flooding? The leaks in the roof?” Bo asked sarcastically.

“C’mon, didn’t you ever run around in the rain as a kid? Roll around in mud puddles?” You asked.

“No, ‘cuz I didn’t grow up in a pigpen.” Bo snarked, “And if I tracked mud in the house, my old man woulda killed me. He hated mess.”

You set down your glass and made your way out the door and onto the steps. All three Sinclair brothers looked after you, curious to know what you were getting up to now. You stuck your hand out into the downpour, catching the warm droplets as the nostalgia of the summer rain from your childhood struck your senses. You turned around to find the brothers gathered at the door way looking at you with confusion. The look on their faces was a harsh reminder than none them had the same childhood memories you did; they never got the chance. Well, now was as good a time as ever to change that. You dashed back into the house, the brothers parting as you darted up the stairs. You returned with the portable radio from your room. You stared back at the Bo, Vincent, and Lester.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to put on some music and we’re all going to run around in the rain like we’re little kids again, got it.” You practically ordered, “We’re going to have fun.”

“I’m in!” Lester chimed in ecstatically, “It’s gotta beat sittin’ ‘round sweatin’!”

“No fuckin’ way.” Bo refused flat out, “That really what you call fun growin’ up?”

“Yes, because it is fun.” You argued, “What about you, Vincent?” he looked down at the ground, twiddling his fingers, unconvinced. “Well, I can’t make you do anything, but I’m going outside and I’m going to have a blast.” You said determinately. You pushed past the brothers and stopped at the door, “C’mon, Jonesy!”

Jonesy leapt up from the couch and launched herself outside, ahead of you. You could always count on her and Lester. You fiddled with the dial of your radio, quickly tuning in to a classic rock station, Creedence Clearwater Revival lighting up the airwaves. You turned the radio all the way up and set it to the side on the stairs, still under cover from the rain. You quickly yanked Lester outside, both of you laughing as the rain met your skin. You tapped Lester on the shoulder,

“You’re it!” you declared, darting away with Jonesy, screaming as you put distance between you and Lester. After only a second to process, Lester ran full speed behind you, determined to catch up. You and your canine companion ran in big circles, to avoid getting tagged back. The bombardment of raindrops, smacked against your skin, running into your eyesight, “C’mon, Jonesy, keep running or he’ll catch us!”

“Got ya!” Lester lightly smacked the back of your neck before turning on a dime and speeding away from you, “Gotta be faster than that, Y/N!”

“I’ll show you fast!” you called wiping the rainy haze from your eyes as you sprinted after him with Jonesy barking her support. You nearly had him multiple times, but he always managed to abruptly alter his course, just out of your reach. You never knew Lester could be so elusive. Despite all the fun, your lungs already burned and you were already slowing down. As Lester got father away, you glanced down at Jonesy, “I don’t think I can go on! Avenge me, Jonesy!” you said dramatically as you patted her on the head, “You’re it, Jonesy, go get him! Get Lester!”

Jonesy barked in understanding, speeding up to catch Lester. You jogged after them as you witnessed Jonesy rear back on her hind legs and push Lester from behind, forcing him to the ground before attacking him with kisses.

“Good girl!” you praised as you caught up to them, catching your breath, “You got him!”

“She got me alright!” Lester laughed through the slobbery assault.

Vincent and Bo watched the game unfold from the staircase. Through it all, Vincent had made his way to the edge of the rainfall and put his hand out like you had done just moments ago.

“Just look at those two, laughin’ like idiots.” Bo said with a shake of his head as he crossed his arms. He glanced at his twin to see him eyeing the rain with curiosity, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna start too.”

Vincent looked back with a sheepish glance before turning around to see you helping Lester to his feet. He tilted his head as he watched you instruct his younger brother to copy the way you looked up at the sky and held out your arms, spinning around and around until you both fell on your butts. The sound of both of you laughing cut through the rain and the music. You were having so much fun together.

“Good God, they’ve finally lost it.” Bo quipped.

“I heard that, Bo!” you shouted, pushing away the hair that stuck to your face, “You know that could’ve been you that shoved Lester to the ground, but you missed out!”

“C’mon, Bo! Don’t ya wanna wrestle, for old times’ sake? Or are ya ‘fraid of losin’?” Lester taunted

“Fuck no.” Bo stated. You, Lester and Jonesy made your way to the staircase, still standing in the rain.

“How about you, Vincent? Change your mind?” you asked pleadingly. Vincent’s eye darted between you, the rain, and Bo. “Please, for me? Just for a little while?” Vincent glanced back at Bo who rolled his eyes,

“Hey, don’t let me stop you from makin’ a fool of yourself.” Bo said with a wave of his hand, “Be my guest.”

“Every party needs a pooper, Bo!” You teased as you drew Vincent into the rain party. Bo scoffed as he lit up another cigarette, continuing to watch from his sheltered spot.

As the rain fell over Vincent, he held his hands out to catch the drops, looking up at the storm clouds. There was something refreshing about standing in a rain like this. It wasn’t like getting caught in a storm and freezing from the cold winds behind it. It was warm and comforting, like the season of summer was wrapping him in its embrace.

“See, it’s not so bad, right?” your voice drew Vincent from his daze. He nodded in agreement,

“Never thought of rain like this.” He said softly

“Things like rain can always turn into fun if you’re with the right people.” You told him with a sweet smile.

As puddles began to form, Jonesy started zooming through them with Vincent jogging in tow, splashing you and Lester in their wake. You two were distracted trying to catch raindrops on your tongues, giggling every time you were successful. It was only a few moments later you saw Bo move to the edge of the rain and glance up at the clouds. You turned to face him,

“Come on, Bo!” you begged

“If ya’ll wanna make assholes of yourselves, that’s fine! I told you to leave me out of it!” Bo shouted back, digging his heels in and turning his back to all of you to finish his cigarette in peace. You grumbled to yourself.

“Hey, I got a way to get Bo to play along.” Lester whispered.

“This won’t end in either of you getting maimed or put him in a foul mood will it?” you asked cautiously.

“No promises, but Bo’s always in a bad mood, anyway.” Lester said with a mischievous grin, “I used to do this all the time when we was kids. Used to dander him up real quick. Watch this.”

“Wait, Lester!” you called in a hushed voice. He ignored you as he silently crept up behind his oldest brother as you prayed for his safety and Bo’s mercy. You bore horrified, silent witness as Lester drew closer to Bo, stopping just behind him. Without hesitation, Lester smacked Bo across the back of the head, lurching him forward, before hauling ass. Bo did a double take, not realizing what just happened until he registered Lester’s retreating figure. His face twisted in scowl as his face turned bright red, as he threw down his cigarette.

“You get the fuck back over here, you smelly bastard!” Bo shouted as he ran after his younger brother, “I’m gonna rip your arm off and smack you across the head, see how you like it! I swear to Christ I will!”

“I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me, Bo! I’m just a boy!” Lester called back through his fit of hysterical laughter. Threat of physical dismemberment or not, Lester was having a grand old time. They continued to yell back and forth through their game of chase.

“Wait! Bo! Lester!” you cried as you followed after them with Vincent, “Bo, don’t hurt your brother!” You were pretty sure Bo wasn’t as angry as he said he was. If he really wanted to kill Lester, he wouldn’t be shouting so much.

Bo finally caught up to Lester in the grass and tackled him into the mud. The two of them wrestled, trying to get the other in a headlock first, rolling all around a mudpuddle. You and Vincent caught up and watched from the sidelines. Part of you wanted to stop them so neither of them would get hurt, but the other part wanted to see how this played out. Bo eventually got the upper hand, shaking Lester back and forth by his shirt.

“Wait, wait! Bo! Stop, please!” Lester pleaded, “Just let me say somethin’!” Bo stopped his literal shakedown, narrowing his eyes skeptically.

“What?” he hissed angrily.

“I hope ya like pie.” Lester said with a deep breath in.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Mud pie!” Lester screeched as he hurled a huge wad of mud directly in Bo’s face, knocking off his hat. You and Vincent’s hands flew to your mouths. Lester used the initial shock to scurry out of Bo’s grip to just a few feet in front of him. There had never been a moment more fragile, nobody dared say anything. Silence never seemed so loud before. Bo slowly moved his hands to his eyes and scooped away the mud with a violent flick of his hands. It was so funny, but you were too scared to laugh. He looked so mad that he hadn’t seen that one coming. Bo’s blue eyes peaked out from the brown of the mud as he shifted his dangerous glare on Lester again. The youngest Sinclair practically gulped with a nervous smile, “No hard feelins?”

As Bo pounced once more, you and Vincent jumped up. Vincent tried to hold Bo back while you did what you could to release his grip on Lester’s ankle. While you two struggled to keep them at bay, Lester and Bo kept flinging handfuls of mud at one another. All of you yelling over one another the whole time. Vincent quickly lost his grip on his twin from the slick mud and rain covering both of them now. Bo swiftly swiped up another handful of mud, reeling back with reckless abandon and zero aim, thus whipping you directly in the face. The force knocked you back as you sputtered through the dirt in your mouth and eyes.

All grappling ceased with gasps from all three of brothers. Vincent slowly moved toward you with his hands out, trying to see if you needed help. You caught a glimpse of their concerned faces through the muddy haze. In reality, you were biting back a smirk as you were about to get retribution. You started violently rubbing at your eyes,

“Ow, ow, my eyes! It hurts! I can’t see!” you feigned helplessness, adding a waver to your voice for effect. They were all on their feet in an instant. Vincent came up next to you and tilted your head up to the rain to try to help flush your eyes. Lester patted your shoulder to comfort you, telling you not to panic. Bo grabbed your wrists from your face,

“Shit, Y/N!” he said, frustration masking the guilt, “Stop rubbing at ‘em, you’re gonna make it worse. Let me see.”

“No! This is your fault!” you said, screwing your eyes tighter.

“Don’t be a brat, let me take a look!” Bo ordered. With that, you opened your eyes and snapped your head forward with an evil smirk. “What the h-”

Without warning, you tackled him back into the mudpuddle, startling all three brothers. With Bo stunned for the second time that evening, you scooped up all the mud you could hold and plopped it on his face.

“Suck mud, Sinclair!” you yelled with wicked laughter. Bo sat up, knocking you over,

“You little shit!” he fumed “You play dirty!”  

“I play to win, old man!” you boasted. Bo got up, ready to attack again, before Lester joined the fray once more, piling more mud onto his older brother’s hair. Bo yanked Lester from behind him and hooked an arm around his neck.

“I can take both of you, bring it on!” Bo proclaimed as he dunked Lester’s head in the mud over and over. You wrapped your arms around Bo’s broad shoulders and tried to drag him back down into the mud with you, a difficult feat as he was twice your size, “The hell are you tryin’ to do? Choke me out?”

“If it’s death by mud for one, is death by mud for all!” you shouted through your struggle. Jonesy started running around the three of you, caking all of you in splashes of mud.

Vincent didn’t know whether to be amused or distraught at the spectacle before him. At least you weren’t actually hurt. Watching you all squabble while Bo struggled between keeping Lester in a headlock and all your weight pulling him backwards was sight to be seen. He could have never predicted this was how his day would end. He tilted his head and watched, knowing better than to get involved. He got hit with a few rogue mud pies, but he wasn’t too bothered about it since he was already a mess from trying to hold back Bo. It seemed he was the only adult living with three children.

Eventually the three of you wore yourself out by the time you were pretty much caked in mud from head to toe. You, Bo, and Lester ended sitting in the mud puddle, too tired to continue the scuffle. You were leaning back on your hands, Lester was laying back completely, and Bo was sitting back on his knees. The rain, now more of a light drizzle, washed a little of the mud away, but not much. You all glanced at one another, taking in your ridiculous states and couldn’t help but laugh at yourselves. You and Lester started another fit of hysterics as Bo cracked a smiled. Vincent even chuckled under his mask.

“See, now wasn’t that fun?” you asked them as you all continued to laugh. It was a successful mud fight if ever there was one.

“Yeah, loads. I love havin’ mud and dirt in my ass crack.” Bo snorted as he stood up from the puddle, searching for his hat.

“I thought it was a riot, Y/N!” Lester disagreed as he stood up as well “Can’t believe we didn’t try this sooner. Most fun I’ve had in some time.”

“Did you have fun, Vincent?” you asked

“Yes. Messy, though.” He rasped, taking in the mud that had left Jonesy’s fur completely brown. He looked back at you saying, “It was nice.”

“I wanted you all to have fun for a little while. Thought you all deserved a break.” You said as Vincent and Lester hauled you up from the mud.

“Well, personally, I’m all funned out.” Bo said sarcastically as he placed his hat back on his head “And next time you actually hurt yourself, I’m not gonna do a thing about it. Make you think twice ‘bout cryin’ wolf.”

“I was just getting even with you for smacking me in the face. But I’m sorry if I worried any of you.” You said  

“Fine, I suppose we’re even, in that case. Just don’t do it again.” Bo said with a wave of his hand, unconcerned with the whole ordeal, “Now, let’s go home. I need another cigarette since someone made me drop my other one.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go back.” You agreed.

As you all made your way back to the front of the house, the trickle gave way to a light mist. The comforting smell of raindrops hanging on the cedar trees enveloped your senses; bringing with it a unique kind of serenity. The radio was still going strong. Bo leaned up against the staircase and lit another cigarette from the pack he’d thankfully left behind from the mud war. Vincent sat on the top stairs with Jonesy, starting to wipe off her paws with an old rag from the porch. Lester popped inside the house to grab his sweet tea before returning outside and descending the stairs again to make idle conversation with Bo. You were sitting in silence next to Vincent and Jonesy, taking it all in.

Your attention was pulled to the radio as a different song started up. You recognized it. It was that old Paul Simon song ‘Kodachrome.’ Far too serendipitous to be ignored. You jumped up from your seat and ran back inside for your camera, none of the boys concerned with your disappearance. You came back to stand in the doorway and pointed your camera at the brothers.

“Everyone say: Cheesy, Crappy Photos!” you chirped. They all looked up at you. Bo with a half-annoyed, half-amused glance. Lester beaming with an enthusiastic wave. Vincent content and comfortable, sitting with Jonesy pulled up in his lap. With an infamous click, your camera printed out the picture and you set it face down by the others on the pool table. You returned to sit back on the porch, camera still in hand. The Paul Simon song echoed through the summer air.

Kodachrome They give us those nice bright colors They give us the greens of summers Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah I got a Nikon camera I love to take a photograph So mama, don't take my Kodachrome away

Well, unlike Mr. Simon, you didn’t have Kodachrome film or a Nikon camera, but you did have a Polaroid and a fire under your ass. Maybe you were romanticizing this whole thing too much, maybe these photographs wouldn’t mean a thing, but you didn’t care. Moments like these deserved to be remembered in color, for all they’re worth. Bo, Vincent, and Lester deserve to have good days that they want look back on. If there was a chance just one photo could give that to them, you had to try.

So, if a picture is worth a thousand words, there were a billion things you were going to tell them.

[quidfree]

tdbk hurt/comfort?

writing this just made me think about my long-running theory that principal nezu is a mastermind villain who is taking out his grudge on humanity via slowly destroying the next generation of heroes bc how ELSE can you explain the amount of personal injury-lawsuits-that-never-were within UA’s supervision 

anyways i would have made this w shouto injured but i feel like IGFTD already has enough of bakugou babysitting him so *reverse uno*

(definitely not at all thinking abt the latest updates of the manga aha..ha)

it’s hardly the first time shouto has seen bakugou get his ass beat. he doesn’t have midoriya’s abysmal track record, but midoriya mostly destroys himself; bakugou tends to get battered by external forces. now that he’s thinking about it he can’t think of another classmate with worse luck, except maybe mineta, but that’s more punitive justice than anything.

habit is a great deadener, or so he’s read. that may be true on a day-to-day basis, but it does nothing to diminish the gut-punch of worry when bakugou’s explosions stutter to a halt so abruptly that it makes him look up just in time to see him plummeting out of the sky, jagged shard of rock protruding through his chest.

midoriya is yelling from somewhere, panicked cry of ‘kacchan!’ turning into a furious scream midway, and shouto is skating upwards on instinct, ice solidifying beneath his feet, arms extending and pulse thudding with memories of ‘how sad, todoroki shouto’ echoing through his mind. 

not so slow, this time. bakugou knocks right into him, gauntlets and all, heavy enough to knock them both off the ice; it shifts and reforms beneath them as he grapples for a better hold. somewhere above them a berserk midoriya is exploding into green light, blows breaking through the villain’s crumbling shell as the mountainside continues to fall apart; shouto’s hands are slick with what he can only hope is sweat as he rides the ice to safety.

they land roughly between the trees, rumbling from above muffled through the foliage just enough that he can hear bakugou cussing, which he has rarely been so happy to hear. 

“get your damn hands off me, icyhot,” bakugou snaps, as shouto’s heartbeat slows incrementally. when their eyes meet his are uncharacteristically hazy, sweat and grime sticking his hair to his face. 

shouto’s eyes lower, and his gut clenches. 

“stop that,” bakugou demands, as shouto’s ears buzz. the rock has embedded itself in his abdomen, and all around it red is soaking through even the dark materials of his suit, torso slick with blood. 

“bakugou...”

“i’m fine,” bakugou grits out, with unconvincing anger. somewhere distant there is a final sounding boom, and then the ground starts to shake. “worry about the damn- earthquake.”

“shit,” shouto says, under his breath, mind racing. earthquake, and mountain, and- landslide. and bakugou, with a poisoned piece of stone stuck right through him. 

he rises to his knees. when he moves bakugou recoils, smacking his hands away with an alarming lack of violence. 

“bakugou,” shouto says. “i’m not going to leave you behind.”

“worry about your damn self!” bakugou retorts, though his gaze flickers to the mountain above. “you’re not carrying me out of here.”

for a second, panicked frustration overwhelms him; he inhales deeply, stands. 

“fine. come on. get going.”

it’s cruel, really; bakugou’s face twists, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, leaking blood as he does. he barely makes it two steps before he’s swaying violently, face gone sheet-white under the mask. 

silently, shouto hoists an arm under his shoulder. bakugou, jaw clenched tight, looks away. it’s as much of a concession as he’ll get.

ice carries them upwards, over the trees, and he glances backwards to find bakugou’s warnings prescient: the mountain top has deteriorated, great chunks of rock sent spiralling downwards with increasing speed. midoriya and the others are fine, he tells himself. he can’t focus on two things at once.

what he can’t stop himself from focusing on, as they make rapid progress overhead, is the way that bakugou is sagging into his hold, dampness spreading through his suit; the pallor of his cheek and the rasping quality of his breaths. he feels faintly nauseous. 

bakugou isn’t dying. not now. what a stupid, ridiculous way to die this would be- three years into UA, having survived every other ridiculous thing life has thrown their way. dying at the hands of some elemental villain, for the price of diverting his attention from his exhausted classmates. 

fuck, why does this always happen to him? his fingers closing on air as dabi whisks bakugou away- his father in his grip as shigaraki pierces through bakugou right above him- it’s always like this, in his face, like fate derives some personal enjoyment out of his helplessly witnessing bakugou’s near-death experiences. 

he doesn’t realise how tight his grip is getting until bakugou hisses in unwilling pain; he relaxes it a fraction, guilt sickening, as he lowers them towards the rocks. there’s enough height and distance that the landslide won’t reach them- or won’t reach them fast enough to disrupt the process, anyways.

bakugou all-but crumples as soon as they’re on firm ground, folding inwards like a house of cards, and shouto is on his knees besides him instantly, hands fumbling for his medical kit. 

he’s a third year; he shouldn’t be so shaky when it comes to rescues, but his fingers are unsteady. 

“i’m going to have to take that out.”

“rule one of on-site aid,” bakugou rasps. his eyes are half-lidded, torso jerking irregularly as he watches shouto move.

never remove the knife from the stab wound. “i know. but you’ve seen what these rocks do. it’s hurting you worse than the blood loss can.”

“came first on the medical test, but who’s counting,” bakugou mutters. he keeps spasming, face tight with pain, and shouto remembers his brushes with the stone- like having fire ants crawling over your skin, red-hot and vicious. to have that inside of you-

ten minutes, if you’re lucky, aizawa had said. 

“i’m taking it out,” he repeats, redundantly, and wills his hands to stop shaking, ice spreading around the shard as bakugou gasps and flinches. 

“fucking- get off me, you bastard, get-”

he’s freezing around the stone now, forces himself not to react to the wet sounds of ice sliding through blood and organ to wrap itself around the intruding shard. bakugou’s cursing has turned to incoherent noise, and he can’t bring himself to look up, own breathing heavy to his ears as he coils the ice like a hook, tugs softly then harder.

“fuck!” bakugou howls, as he grits his teeth and painstakingly pulls back another fragment; a defensive explosion hits him right in the side, and he pulls too hard on instinct, whole shard yanked free as bakugou screams bloody murder. 

shouto falls back with a piece of rock the size of his forearm in his lap, covered in blood and tissue and ice, almost gets sick at the feel of it. instead he drops it hastily, slams an arm down over the gushing wound as his free hand grabs for the spray. top of the line hero resources; knits any wound back together, hatsume had promised, and why the hell had he trusted hatsume mei of all people with his tech? if this is one of her misses-

he sprays, blood splattering him in the face when he withdraws long enough to do so, and then keeps spraying so violently that his hand cramps, watching tissue knit itself in a disturbing parody of organs as the bleeding slows. 

for a beat he just sits and stares, chest rising and falling. there is still a hole through bakugou, but it’s like it’s been half-sketched in the way it’s supposed to look, veins and muscle and what could be a kidney half-fleshed out within the empty space.

“motherfucker,” bakugou chokes out, tight, and then shoves himself half-upright just in time to throw up off the side of the rock. shouto’s hands have resumed shaking.

bakugou collapses back onto the rock, arms wobbly from the exertion, and for a second he just lies there, shouto’s pulse slowing ever so slightly as he takes in the mess they’re in, blood and guts and ice and some half-mended massacre in bakugou’s abdomen. 

more than ten minutes, though. enough to get actual medical care. that has to be enough. 

“todoroki,” bakugou says. shouto startles, leans over. his gaze is unfocused, hazily attentive.

“am i dying?”

it’s said matter-of-factly; instinctively his stomach turns. 

“no.”

“don’t lie to me.”

“i have never lied to you,” shouto retorts, intent. “you’re not dying.”

bakugou looks at him, brow furrowed deeply with effort as he blinks in frustration. can’t quite muster up the energy to concentrate, shouto assumes. it makes him look oddly like his younger self, all screwed up suspicion.

not dying, shouto tells himself, fiercely. not fucking dying. 

he stomps down the emotion, but he’s lost his touch over the past three years because bakugou’s mouth twitches wryly, eyes briefly sharp. 

“’f i’m not dying what’s with that look?”

“what look?”

“the fucking- hero’s crisis. failed rescue.”

“shut up,” shouto says, abruptly harsh. “that’s not- shut up. you’re not dying.”

“feel like shit though,” bakugou mutters, eyes drifting shut again. 

if the roles were reversed bakugou would have said and you look like it too. but he’s not bakugou, even if he is the only other person in the class that’s as poorly equipped to play nurse; he can’t muster the normalcy to banter. he just keeps replaying bakugou’s screaming, eyes caught on the tear-tracks on his cheeks. he hadn’t even noticed him crying during.

help is coming. help has to be coming. bakugou will last until then. but he’d hate for them to find him like this.

of its own volition, his hand retrieves a sanitary wipe from the medikit. then it’s dabbing at bakugou’s face. 

“the fuck are you- get off,” bakugou protests, albeit with more bewilderment than anger. shouto’s hands resolutely do not listen, wiping dutifully ahead, and at some point bakugou gives up, just lies there with confused annoyance in his frown. when his face is clean shouto folds the wipe away, sits back. 

“i’m sorry i made you walk earlier.”

bakugou’s eyes flicker open, slanted red. “’s whatever.”

“it was petty of me,” shouto continues, half a sigh. “i was panicking.”

“yeah, well,” bakugou mumbles. “would have kept bitching if you hadn’t, so. for the best.”

not dying, not dying, not dying. “don’t suddenly become reasonable just because you think you’re on your deathbed.”

“fuck you,” bakugou retorts, managing a snort before it turns into a coughing fit that leaves him curled up and sweating, eyes squeezed tight with pained humiliation. 

if midoriya were here, shouto thinks- but that’s stupid. he and bakugou are friends too, really. have been for much longer than bakugou would admit. he should be able to do something. 

he can’t move him, though. not with the fragile hold hatsume’s gadget has on his internal organs. he’s not exactly going to kiss him better like recovery girl would. and when it comes to conversation, he’s never really had a knack for keeping bakugou placid.

he keeps thinking about all of the times he hadn’t caught him. bakugou out of reach. that sick feeling, worsening every time. 

hesitantly, his hand finds bakugou’s. 

“what the fuck.”

instinct should make him jerk it back, but stubbornness supersedes the urge. he winds their fingers together as bakugou lifts his head to glare at him. 

“get your damn hand off me, half ‘n half.”

“no.”

bakugou tugs, hard and ineffective, falls back with an outraged glower. 

“are you fucking kidding me? what is this, a k-drama?”

“i don’t know what else to do to make you feel better,” shouto retorts, nebulously self-conscious but entirely resolute. “so unless you have any better ideas i’m not letting go.”

“it’d make me feel better if you stopped touching me!” bakugou snaps, coughing. shouto ignores him, runs his thumb over his knuckles, vague sense memories of his mother coming to him as he does. had she held his hands, back then? he thinks maybe. he can’t think where else he’d have picked it up.

bakugou has stopped struggling, but has not died. shouto relaxes a fraction.

holding hands is sort of nice. bakugou’s hand is sweaty, which makes sense, but also very hot, and calloused. after a while he sort of forgets the circumstances, just starts absently playing with it, pressing his fingers into the pads of his hand. he thinks he was right about his mother. he can sort of recall the sensation of her hands in his.

“if i don’t die,” bakugou says, after a minute, sort of resigned sounding, “i’m going to kill you.”

“yeah,” shouto says, squeezing his hand. “sure.”

he wonders if bakugou’s parents held his hand a child. he thinks probably yes. he seems like the type whose parents love him a lot in spite of his attitude. that’s mostly how everyone treats him, in the end.

mitsuki bakugou looks a lot like her son. the last time he saw her she was aggressively ruffling his hair into even greater disarray, voice strident as bakugou yelled back obscenities and made no real effort to displace her.

it must be hard, shouto reflects, for a civilian parent. midoriya’s mother certainly has reason to worry. bakugou’s is probably a close second by now.

“stop looking at me like that.”

“sorry.”

“no you’re not!”

“well, if it bothers you...”

“can you just be a normal damn person for once?”

bakugou hits him when he starts messing with his hair, but he doesn’t let go of his hand. 

(he also doesn’t kill shouto when he’s released from the hospital, but then shouto had sort of expected that.)

[fannishcodex]

AU where instead of running into the Goth Apes, Lio and baby Kipo, Hugo gets kidnapped by Emilia instead and is slowly brainwashed the old-fashioned way....

Due to initially having limited resources after the DNA Burrow collapse that prevent her from immediately harvesting his pheromones again, Emilia confines Hugo to a simpler cage but also tries to “train” him to be more “obedient.” (No one can use Hugo’s harvested pheromones to directly mind control Hugo himself, the pheromones cannot be used against their genetic point of origin, Emilia’s tested and confirmed this; she’s left to brainwash Hugo the old-fashioned way....) Emilia becomes obsessively careful to cover every inch of her body when dealing with Hugo since his pheromones require physical contact to work; she also tends to time direct interaction with him when he’s physically weakened.

Emilia’s “training” also ends up messing with Hugo’s memories of Lio and Song and everything that came before she took him. (Eventually remembering them more clearly does not actually improve anything for him....) Emilia’s efforts pay off and Hugo gets rather thoroughly conditioned to obey her above everything else, and to believe he exists only to serve her. Emilia has been able to condition him to believe that something Bad Will Always Happen if he displeases/disobeys her (this is established through a process of brutal Examples). She even has him accepting that her ultimate goal to isolate the mutagen and remove his intelligence is for the best.

Emilia expands her agenda to better include “uniting” humanity, and she becomes more prone to using Hugo’s harvested puppet pheromones on anyone who resists. She eventually does capture the Goth Apes and other mute primates to serve as both her puppet army and additional hostages to use against Hugo after she allows him to form some attachment with them.

Emilia generally reconsiders her use of Hugo and starts taking him out into the field as a weapon/tool even when she has the pheromone harvesting system set up. Part of her “training” involves a little more calculated use of “mercy,” which includes the previously mentioned field missions that Hugo’s grateful for (grateful for any chance to get out and away from the treadmill), giving him some time with other mute primates (and he’d better especially continue to be Good and Obedient for their sake), and Emilia giving a cloak and a mask to Hugo as a “gift.” (The mask and cloak are also meant as a “uniform,” something else to symbolically keep him in line; it’s patterned after hers to both give the illusion of “attachment” between the two, and to actually more clearly show that he directly serves her.) Hugo does get genuinely attached to the mask and cloak because he’s barely allowed anything, and clings to what little he gets to have.  

Hugo’s mask did not start out cracked. It got damaged in a fight or some other crisis in the field. Emilia chastised him for letting it get wrecked like that, and reminded him to do better.

(This literally just started as a visual I thought would be neat to sketch, and then I started thinking about the backstory behind the image and it went downhill from there. I'm literally that one Jake line/meme: "I was just playin' around with my imagination and then everything got intense.") 

ETA: Forgot to mention--Emilia learns about mute sensitivity to certain sounds/high frequencies earlier after witnessing a fight between the Timbercats and the Umlaut Snäkes. As if things couldn’t get worse for Hugo/Scarl in this AU, it ends up part of her “training” to brainwash/get Hugo under her control.