#aaand yep

[amypihcs]

AAAnd I ended up writing something for this and for the first day of cozytober.

You’re back home

As much as it could be seen as a dismissal, as a lack of appreciation for one’s services, Sherlock Holmes couldn’t but be happy about his husband’s discharge.

He had known of it for at least one day more than his dearest had, working in the intelligence offered striking possibilities when one was showing up to the office and not only working from home, but he had only left London on his own leave when Watson’s letter had arrived.

And there he was, in Sussex, enjoying the sweet October sunshine in the year of our Lord nineteen-seventeen from atop the railing he and Watson had built more than 10 years prior, waiting for his Captain.

Dr Watson wasn’t surprised to not find Holmes waiting for him at the station with their car, it was their agreement. No station Welcomes and Goodbyes as having to stifle their feelings in those moments would have certainly made them more painful. He breathed in deeply the fresh country air and set off for his walk toward their bee-house, as Holmes called it.

Nothing could be better than half an hour of evening walk toward home, or rather, nothing but seeing one’s husband jump down from a railing and grin from ear to ear as one walks into one’s own garden.

Neither of them properly ran toward the other, they weren’t as young as that any more as much as Holmes’ athletics still belied his true age. Holmes waited for him and Watson dove into his arms, breathing in deeply, relaxing after months of tension as he felt his husband’s strong, thin arms around his shoulders and his solid, sinewy body in his arms.

“I missed you.” He sighed, breathing in his scent, tobacco, lemons, aftershave.

Holmes broke the hug with a smile. “I missed you too.” He answered, then he kissed him, his hands buried in his hair, moaning as he felt his Watson’s arms tighten once more on his back as he answered the kiss with just as much vigour.

“I’m back home.” Gasped Watson when they separated out of need for air.

“You are, my dearest. – Holmes’ breath was just as laboured as he replied, ruffling his husband’s hair with his fingers. – Short hair doesn’t suit you my love.”

“It will grow again, I also liked it better before this war. Is that my vest?” Chuckled the doctor, well used to his husband’s sometimes strange demonstrations of affection.

Holmes laughed as he played with his Watson's uniform’s belt and buttons. “How did you deduce?”

It was a game, of course, their game. “It’s too large on you, my darling, and a bit too short. Also, you have no clothes of this colour. – The doctor stroked one of his Holmes’ sharp cheekbones. – You needn’t look so worried, Holmes. What do you deduce of me?”

Holmes smiled once more, and in that golden light he looked just like the young chemist he was when they had met. “You lost almost a stone, but you will be better in some weeks. You need to sleep properly as you are quite tired. Those dark circles under your eyes speak of anxiety, my John, and of pain. I could say your leg more than your shoulder, if I didn’t know that you’ve been hurt two weeks ago…” Holmes let his voice fade softly as he moved his hand to his husband’s side.

“It’s but a graze, my dear. Some shrapnel during a rescue mission, I barely noticed it until I had finished with the poor chap’s surgery. It’s but a scratch, I stitched it close myself.”

“I should like to check for it myself, my dear. As much as I know that your stitches are the best, you must have hidden it from your subordinates for quite a long time to end up stitching it on your own.” He stated

“Those boys were shaking already, I couldn’t let them know that I was hurt. – Watson kissed his husband again and then placed a warning finger on his lips. – I will let you fuss, my dear fellow, but only after some good tea and in preparation for a proper bath.” He smiled.

Mr Holmes grinned at the proposition and lead his husband inside, draping himself on his shoulders as soon as they reached the kitchen. “We are home now, John.”

“Yes. Yes, we are, my dearest Sherlock.” Answered the doctor.

dr watson in his 60s, tanned by the sussex sun, returns to his old service on the outbreak of WW1

this outfit is not historically accurate at all, but i really wanted to draw how i imagined watson in the gorgeous WW1 era h/w fic The Presbury Letters

+ bonus homecoming to angry bee husband

[elfdyke]

idk if i’ll finish this but well hi here’s an animatic thingy i was working on for amanda ^_^ …happy mandy wednesday!!

[andiaquarium-moved]

my baby brother fucking brought up my discord bio the other day. which is this btw

[redlips-blooddrops-deux]

Bet you look great in leather Mommy....please whip me and call me dirty pig~

"Hah, you have to earn that privilege first, but I'm sure one of my girls wouldn't mind playing that role for you. Also...leather looks great true...but it's not that comfortable after a few hours trust me "

[dallasstarsdyke]

dude every time the notes are really clogged on a political post im like wow who reblogged this everyone is responding with useless comments. and every time its neil gaiman

[anae-leone]

Insane how everytime they've made Claude appear anywhere in the past two years, it's been to show him so much disrespect it feels more like a slap than an actual tribute to the wonderful character they had first created in Three Houses...

[pretty-hills-i-die-on]

Fellowship Shenanigans

History Lesson Pt 1

They are in Rivendell, the Hobbit’s relentless questions about events mentioned in songs, and stories enshrined in tapestry, iconography and the Elves themselves, have led Aragorn to give in, sit down and talk them through a brief history of Middle Earth.

Aragorn: And so the sons of Feanor made an oath-

Pippin: Terrible idea.

Elrond, passing by and overhearing: You have no idea.

Aragorn: Please don’t distract them.

Elrond: What are you doing?

Aragorn: The Hobbits asked for a history lesson.

Pippin: We did not! I just asked-

Aragorn: Who every single person here was and what all the songs and tapestries mean, that’s a history lesson.

Merry, pointing at a star on a banner near Elrond’s head: What’s that?

Elrond looks around.

Elrond: That’s the star of Feanor.

Aragorn: Here we go again.

Sam: Wasn’t he the bad guy?

Pippin: Why do you have his star on your wall?

Elrond, smiling and sitting down: Well, that’s a long story, actually-

Aragorn: -And one that we will get to later, because-

Elrond: -You see, my brother and I were raised by two sons of Feanor.

The Hobbits: WHAT?!?

Aragorn: Aaand there goes the continuity.

Merry, to Elrond: Which ones!?

Elrond: Maglor and Maedhros.

Frodo: Are they here?

Elrond: No, I’m afraid not. See-

Merry: I thought your father was a star?

Frodo: Yeah, Bilbo did a whole song about it!

Elrond: A very nice song, but Bilbo did take some- poetic licence.

Aragorn: I'm pretty sure Glorfindel busted a rib trying not to laugh.

Elrond: The Star of Earendil is not my father, it is what became of the Silmaril in his possession once he returned to Valinor.

Merry: What?! How did he get his hands on a Silmaril?

Glorfindel, passing by: True love and a big dog.

Aragorn: Pretty much, yeah.

Pippin: You do understand that that’s no context at all?

Aragorn: Do you remember the song about Luthien and Beren?

Pippin: I fell asleep.

Aragorn: Of course you did. Luthien and Beren were Earendil’s ancestors.

Aragorn proceeds to tell the story of Luthien and Beren, Glorfindel occasionally interrupts with comments that make it amply obvious that he was there.

Aragorn: -And so the Silmaril passed to Earendil and his wife, Elwing.

Elrond: My parents.

The Hobbits: Woah!

The Hobbits are utterly in awe, even more so than before. Glorfindel is amused.

Glorfindel, to Aragorn: Giving them a history lesson?

Aragorn: To the best of my ability.

Glorfindel: Have you gotten up to my bit yet?

Aragorn: If by “your bit” you mean-

Glorfindel: Yep.

Aragorn: No, not yet.

Glorfindel, to the Hobbits: Spoiler alert, I die.

Aragorn: Thanks mate.

Pippin: What?!

Merry: You can’t have died!

Frodo: You’re pulling our leg.

Pippin reaches out and pokes Glorfindel’s arm, it’s solid.

Pippin: You’re not a ghost.

Glorfindel: Not last time I checked, no.

Sam: I told you they were magic.

Elrond, to Aragorn: Have you told them about reincarnation?

Aragorn: Well it seems I’m about to.

Aragorn looks to Glorfindel.

Aragorn: Care to speak from experience?

Glorfindel: You seem to be doing just fine.

Aragorn: Fantastic.

Elrond: Now you know what it was like teaching you.

Sam: What?!

Aragorn: We’ll get to that later, remind me. Anyway, in Valinor-

He explains reincarnation, Glorfindel continues to interrupt now and then.

Aragorn: -And they can walk on Middle Earth once more.

Frodo: But how-

Glorfindel: Don’t overthink it. Trust me.

Merry, to Glorfindel: You’re practically a God.

Glorfindel: Oh no, if anyone it it’s Elrond, he’s got the Maia blood in him.

Elrond: Thrice great-grandmother hardly makes me a God.

Glorfindel: True, but killing a Balrog doesn’t make you one either.

Pippin: WHAT!?

Merry: What’s a Balrog?

Frodo: Did you grow up here, Strider?

Glorfindel: Yep, he did, his father too.

Arwen, walking over: What’s going on here?

Aragorn: Anarchy.

Merry: A history lesson.

Arwen: I see.

Pippin: Lady Arwen, do you look like Luthien?

Arwen: That is hardly for me to say.

Glorfindel: You’re the spitting image of her, Arwen, trust me.

Arwen: Thank you. *to Aragorn* Have you gotten to the rise of Numenor yet?

Aragorn: I’ve been trying to for the last hour.

Glorfindel, to the Hobbits: If you want to know about Maia, go and ask Gandalf.

Aragorn: Glorfindel, for the love of Manwe-

[stevn-rgers]

911 FANDOM — AO3 writers pls read:

Without any spoilerrs, those who are caught up.. you know what this is about. PLEASE. Please tag your fics correctly.

If they’re canon compliant PLEASE include that in your descriptions, and use the appropriate trigger warnings. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I will not go into detail on that to avoid anyone bitching at me for saying too much but these specifically NEED to used, always.

I’ve seen authors before specifically not use these for the ‘surprise’ factor..

it’s NOT okay to do.

You don’t know what people are dealing with, what they feel they can mentally handle, etc. so just please be a good person and put others mental health and happiness before your fic’s views.

I know this might sound dramatic to some but it might not be to others. For example (TW so I’m putting it in small) I had to have my ovaries removed in an emergency surgery at 21 due to tumors & not a week later a fanfic had a misc******* that ended in unaliving them both. No warnings applied. I cried for an hour.

I know there’s gonna be some miracle worker fix-it writers, but there’s also people who don’t do that, which is 100% okay and totally up to you! Write what you want and what you feel. But it’s also okay for people to not want that, so please. PLEASE. Use warnings.

This goes for all fandoms, all content and all writers ofc (im just a very frequent tenant in the 911 fandom AO3 and this last episode fucked me up so I’m gonna live on the happy side right now.)

Be considerate. The world is an absolute dumpster fire from hell & some people want to escape that kind of thing. Angst with a happy ending is my preferred living area — aaand yep, that’s all I have to say. Thank you, I love you and happy birthday.

[floridecuts]

Some more gesture practice drawings turned into Death Mark characters for this week's "Floride Friday" post. (That title from @enjoyjellime's last coment really amused me, so I had to use it at least once here, haha! xD Thanks for that btw!! <3) Thought I should give other Mark Bearers some more love too, so here's the teens of the group.

I put more effort into the coloring this time but I actually liked the colorless sketches more, so I added them as well. Feel free to tell me which version you prefer! ^^ I drew Ai in the Konoehara school uniform from Death Mark II because I think it looks good on her and I hate drawing her idol outfit, haha (honestly I don't have the patience to draw all the frills/ruffles there... ^^'). Aaand yep, I still suck with backgrounds, so just as an explanation (because it's probably hard to recognize), the "background" in Shou's picture is supposed to be the front gate of a school, he's leaning against one of the pillars.

I have another short comic with Yashiki and Mashita in work currently. Hope I can finish it for next week's post, but we'll see.

Anyway, that about wraps it up for this post. I hope you all have a nice week! Thanks for taking a look and see you next time! :)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 35

part 1 | part 34 | ao3

cw: Fred slander apologies to any Freds

“Okayyy,” Robin says with a shaky laugh as she points at everyone in the booth, going around the circle and introducing them in a single breath. “Amy-Tim-Vickie-Beth-Grant-Jordan-Fred, aaand Nancy. You, um, you already know— Nancy... r-right,” she stammers at Steve’s pointed glare, “so, um. Anyway!”

She grabs him by the shoulders; shoves him front and center like he’s a really cool new toy she brought to class for show-and-tell. “Everyone, this is Steve! Steve, this is—”

“You don’t have to say it again.”

“Oh, thank god.” She slides into the booth with a relieved huff, and Steve scoots in after her.

Despite the awkward tension and that bonkers introduction, everyone at the table does their best to act cool, to say hello and make him feel welcome while they wait for the band to start. Grant slides him the basket of fries, and Jordan compliments his watch, and Vickie asks if he’s coming to the last football game of the season, voice high and shy as she rambles about how ‘Robin’s solo in the halftime show is sooo good, you really should come see it!’ and wow.

Is Robin vain or something? She’s got a crush on a clone of herself.

Steve munches on fries and keeps an eye on the stage, hoping to catch Eddie before the show starts, and the whole thing’s… not so bad, actually. Kind of decent. Almost nice, until Fred fucking Benson ruins it. Steve’s saying something about the basketball team’s chances this season when the little asshole rolls his eyes and leans in to stage-whisper to Nancy loud enough for the whole table to hear, “The Hair? Seriously? What’s he even doing here?”

...Yeah, fuck this. “He’s getting a drink,” Steve says and storms off to the bar.

—

He’s not getting that drink.

Turns out a tenner isn’t a big enough bribe to get a bartender to break the law, so Steve nurses a diet Coke that he pretends is a lager and refuses to even look in the direction of the booth. Fucking Fred. What an asshole.

And what a stupid name, too, like— who looks at a baby and thinks, yep, looks like a Fred to me? Ugh.

Robin, bless her, has the good sense to leave him alone for a couple minute until he cools off, but then the music starts and she comes over to shout ‘stop moping and dance with me!’ and that’s the end of that.

—

The band is fucking awesome.

Steve doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't this: high energy, tight rhythms, a driving beat that makes him want to dance. The bass reverberates through the floor, up his shins and through his chest, and for a second it almost feels like he has his hearing back, like his whole body is a wall of noise, filled with the wail of Eddie’s guitar, the scratchy rasp of his singing voice, and Eddie's…

Eddie’s amazing. Lightning in a bottle as he bounces around the stage, hips moving to the rhythm, fingers blurring over the frets. He looks so fucking hot. Denim vest, silver rings, jeans showing a delicious amount of skin — skin Steve has put his mouth on; tattoos he’s tasted with his tongue.

God, he can’t wait to kiss him. Is probably going to combust if it doesn’t happen tonight. Or like, come in his jeans, more realistically.

They dance and jump and shout along to the covers they recognize, and when Eddie dips backstage to let the band do an instrumental thing, Steve shakes the sweat out of his eyes and heads to the bar for a water.

—

"Mind if I join you?" Nancy asks.

Steve sighs. This is what he gets for wandering off alone. Robin's still by the stage, twirling Vickie around swing-style to a frantic, jazzy drum solo in a move that's actually pretty impressive even if it makes no sense with the music, and Steve resigns himself to his fate and nods at the empty stool beside him.

They sip their drinks in silence — awkward and charged, old hurts hanging between them like static waiting to strike. "Sorry about Fred," she says eventually. "And- and for me, too, I guess."

Steve huffs a laugh. Appreciates the sentiment, even if it doesn't change anything. "It's fine."

She glances over at him, that journalistic focus etched into her face. “How are you?” she asks softly.

Another laugh under his breath. He thinks about answering her honestly, just to entertain himself. Pictures the way her face would fall as he went on and on: "Oh, you know. My mom left me to go ‘rest' in Evanston, like I don’t know that means she went to rehab without saying a goddamn word, and when I called my aunt to yell at her about it, she said some ice cold shit about how I should be happy my mom left me, because now I can keep the money from the lot fees all to myself, and I said ‘what lot fees?’ and it turns out mom had been hiding, like, a lot of money from me while I stressed out about our budget for months. Oh! And also my dad’s dead, but you knew that already. And also I want to hump my neighbor against a brick wall so bad my dick is turning purple. How are you?"

"...Steve?" she tries after a moment.

“I’m good,” he settles on. Gives the bullshit answer because that's all they've ever been to each other, isn't it? Bullshit. "Yeah, I'm good," he tells her, "and you?"

"I'm fine." Her smile is tight, bags under her tired eyes, and then she sighs out long and slow, "Actually, I'm not. Everything's been..."

Steve tries to listen, but he just can't bring himself to care. Doesn't want to hear about whatever drama she's going through with the guy she dumped him for. And then Eddie comes back out on stage, and he's looking out into the crowd, and no fucking way is Steve letting him look over here and think he's cozied up with Nance. No fucking way. Nancy's ruined enough good things for him already.

"Sorry," he cuts her off, not feeling sorry at all as he stands up and walks off without looking back at her.

"Steve?" She calls after him. "Hey- wait!"

Steve makes his way to the front of the crowd.

“Howdy,” Eddie greets the room, stepping up to the mic with a Hollywood-worthy grin. His guitar’s strapped over his back, the neck pointing to the ground, and he looks so good up there. So comfortable and real.

And his outfit's different now. The denim vest is gone, and he's wearing a cut off tank top. The tank top; the one he wore that night, loose around the arms to expose his pretty, painted ribs. Steve looks up at him, transfixed. Like staring straight at the sun.

“How’s everybody doing?”

The group at the stage all whoop and cheer, and Eddie laughs delightedly; thanks them all for coming, thanks the tech and service crews. He introduces the band next, pointing each member out by name and letting them do a little solo, and then he swings his guitar over his shoulder and says, “We got one last song for you tonight!”

More cheering from the crowd. Eddie plants his feet and scans the room, a small, secret smile lighting up his gorgeous face when his eyes land on Steve. Just for a second before he looks away, but that smile stays firm, and Steve knows the next words are meant for him.

“Now, this isn’t our usual style, but uh… a little birdie told me someone here might need to hear this.”

Eddie strums his guitar. The opening notes of Go Your Own Way ring out, sped up and made grittier to fit the band's sound. Steve’s heart is in his throat.

“Good morning, sweetheart," Eddie beams as his bandmates join in, "this one’s for you.”

—

part 36

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[fatcroftie]

I FINALLY DID IT!!!

(Yep, it's good omens "fan" (ahhaha i'm obsessed) art)

"An Omen", 50x70.

Ideal mixed media: oil and my personal favourite - acrylic markers.

It's fem!Aziraphale and Crowley.

A little bit of detail...

Two feathers, black and white, as a reference to the series (and to Crowley and Aziraphale as a demon and an angel).

Aaand, of course, my hand to compare the size.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 2 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

agatha going UGH!!!!! when she sees jen's name. are you a toddler?? are you four????

"bougie probiotique" lmao

AGATHA

she's here she's queer she's gonna put an egg up her vajeer

sasheer zamata the glorious gay goddess that you are

"jen the potions guy" sounds amazing. I'd use that on my business cards

aaand once again I'm billy

I love that these two have clearly known and hated each other for centuries - sometimes you just see an enemy and immediately go, oh it's you motherfucker. and I think that's beautiful. (dear lord that store is so pink)

and once again: hilarious dialogue, heavy and dark undertones. jen has very, very legitimate reasons to hate and mistrust agatha, even more than she realizes. she will never open up to agatha like the others, and that's both fair and sexy of her. tbh she was too kind all things considered, that bitch deserved her ass kicked from here to the afterlife

case in point, agatha knows jen well enough to manipulate her into joining them. and jen knows agatha well enough to say what will hurt her. she picked the worst thing she could come up with

billy and the audience don't notice that agatha has just been stabbed in the heart

partners in crime, once again! agatha is so proud of her boy's lil manipulative side. and yep, billy is not as naive as he tries to appear. he's still a bit clueless, but he tries.

love how they're so deliberate in depicting the witches as a legit community with its own culture and history.

watch this scene again. now think about the rage and soul and desperation jen pours into winning her powers back from agatha. look at the way these two are being both so casual and so callous about jen's deep, bleeding trauma. not so funny a scene anymore, is it?

agatha shoving a fistful of paper in her mouth so she doesn't have to say rio's name also goes in the top five funniest list. she'll never beat the toddler allegations

and now she's gobbling a corn dog! see what I have to deal with here?? how can I keep it classy?

what's really iconic is bringing your gay son to hot topic

alice always looks a little hunched down, as if she had, idk, a giant disgusting harpy sitting on her shoulders. the more I think about it the sadder it gets

oooh, those are dorothy pigtails. i get it now.

you know, I said yesterday that agatha successfully cons jen and alice, but that's not true. she couldn't have swayed jen without billy's help, and she had alice completely wrong. she thought alice was looking for her mom, but Lorna didn't die on the Road and alice always knew it was a con - she's actually the world's biggest Road expert after agatha herself. seems like Agatha is pretty desperate and out of her depth without her mind reading powers. (wait, do we think billy is the one doing the mind reading, is that why he got to jen so easily?)

seeing her being so cruel with people's deep seated traumas is really upsetting me. especially considering how she guards her own trauma. feeling guilty afterwards is no justification, she knows exactly what she's doing.

these two need their own show. oh wait, they already have it.

but agatha saying "we don't need her" and then pushing people around in the mall - she is upset about what she just did to alice. and she's almost relieved she said no, that she gets to spare her. sweet, sad alice, so spiky on the outside, soft as a marshmallow on the inside. she did not deserve any of this. her death is entirely on agatha.

sighing and looking wistfully out of the window, she's in pain but determined to go on

meanwhile detective agnes is working hard to figure billy out, you can practically see the gears turning inside her head. I think at this point she already kind of knew, tbh. "I have a theory, but I need more."

aw

see you next for the ending of episode 2. and this time I'm giving a shoutout to @one-step-at-a-time25, who was having a lot of fun in the tags!

go to episode 2 part 4

[thaliajoy-blog]

Aaand Daenerys Targaryen in A Game of Thrones ! (I keep coming back to this yep) 😘💔💔💔

Plus her little herd !

(gonna try to do Mirri & Jorah next wish me luck 😗)

[haemey]

Does Rosé look a little bit insane? Yep.

Am I going to fix it? Who the heck knows, not me :P

I first drew this back during S2, but wasn't happy with it and never finished it, so I decided to do a whole redraw with the updated designs.

So many tangents OnO

Aaand here's a crunchy screenshot of the original:

I really struggle with Rosé's face, apparently. I do like Grendan's hat though, that came out so well~

[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 12! 🎃

Part 11 here!

Shock and Lock are both 5'9" (~175 cm) Calliope is 5'5" (~165 cm) Barrel is 5'4" (~162.5 cm).

Tapetum lucidum: [1] [2] [3]

Lock likes stargazing on the roof, climbing, listening to music. Shock likes flying, studying magic, herb collecting, tea making. Barrel likes gaming, comic books, and caring for his scorpions.

Lock and Shock bicker often but show their heart when it counts.

Barrel doesn't get jealous. He's happy to be allowed Lock's time and closeness when offered it.

Yep! Despite all the drama (that Belladonna never knew about) Lock learns she's pretty cool. Aaand that the drama might have been his fault bc when Belladonna asked if Barrel was single Lock wasn't ready to commit back then.

They definitely weren't the teacher's favs! At that young age they'd typically notify the parents but the trio didn't have any.

Oogie. Or his friends abandoning him.

They went on one date.

Not in this AU.

Yes, Barrel's scar is permanent. As it turns out, Barrel loves it.

The trio all have occasional nightmares about Oogie but they subside with time. Barrel will wake Lock if it looks like a bad time.

Lock is best at comfort via distraction. He'll take Barrel to a diner at whatever hour it is to get milkshakes so good that he forgets his nightmares. And he won't go back to sleep until Barrel does.

[mossyscavern]

All is fair, in the art of war.

_______________________

“Aaand that’s how I defeated Duncan on my first day.”

Zafron told him, delicately cutting the coloured glass in the perfect shape for his next project. “Damn man, really?” Sam asked, sketching idly.

“Yep, the look on his face when I first received my purple belt was priceless!” He said, smiling cheekily as he really gently snapped the glass off. “Purple belt?” Sam asks, looking up from his sketch pad.

“Yup. They tried given me a black belt but that’s not how I roll, I was still on a learning curve.” He shrugs, looking down at the glass before-.

*crash*

“Fuck.” He cursed, a deadpanned look on his face as he drew another curve on the blue glass, Sam has an idea what had happened… but just in case.

“… wrong cut?”

“Wrong cut… and I dropped it.” Zafron confirmed.

Cutting a new shape out of the glass. “You’ve been working on that a long while now.. is it not done?” Sam asked.

“No, this is just a new one.. the person who ordered the mural didn’t specify the colour for the rose… so I’m doing the whole thing again.” He told Sam, the redhead put down his sketch book and walk to zafrons work station.

“… this can’t be worth the money.” He comments,making the brown headed boy turn to the redhead. “Believe me it is. 500$, if I get it done on time.” He told himself, Sam’s eyes widened.

“Shut up really? That’s enough to reach your goal.” Sam says excitedly, leaning against his friend’s chair.

“Yeah it is, I sell this piece and we have enough to visit my grandma. Mum has been saving up for this trip since new years, it’s their anniversary present.” He told the readhead, before getting a call on his cell.

He took it out of his pocket and winced. “I have to take this, it’s mum.” Sam gave a thumbs up and went to continue his sketching…

but the conversation zafron is having with his mom doesn’t seem very… alright on his end, zafron looked worried and tried to calm his mom down.

But it seemed she isn’t listening. “Mum I told you, itay is picking me up. I’m still at school, I-… got into a fight which got me detention … yes I won.”

Sam chuckled at that. He remembers seeing zafron’s mom in the crowd at one of the defence events, cheering zafron on with high spirits every time he won.

“Mum-, mum I’m with a friend.. no the ‘friend’ is not a girl- I’m with Sam, he volunteered to stay behind until my detention is over… yes mom the one kid you like… uh huh.. mhm… I love you too, bye.” He hung up, placing his phone back in his pocket.

“Is she alright?” Sam asked, sketchbook down on his lap. “Yeah, she was wondering where I am.” He smiled, turning off the glass cutting equipment before putting them away.

“I’ll finish this tomorrow, do have a month to spare. Help me out?” He asks, Sam gave a firm nod and helped zafron with the equipment.

“Hey, Duncan invited me, mark, Beatrice and tailor to camp with him at this really neat camp. Want to join us?” Sam asks. “When is the date?” Zafron asks excitedly, placing the cutting tool back in the tool cupboard.

“From October 28 to the first of 31st.” Sam told him, watching Zafron’s face drop. “I uh… I won’t be there. My trip to the Philippines has been extended to the 1st of November… I won’t be there.” The brown headed boy dropped his head in shame.

Sam looks down sadly before shaking his head. “It’s ok, I’ll ask Duncan to plan another one when you get back.” He said to zafron in a promise, pinky finger out. His Filipino/boston friend smirks and loops his pinkie finger around Sam’s.

“… make sure to call me when I get back.” Zafron replied, punching the redhead gently in the shoulder.

“I promise.”

_______________________

… I don’t know how to write a Boston accent for him.

Of all the hometowns I put Zafron’s mum in, I’ve chosen Boston… anyways, I hope you like Zafron’s and Sam’s interaction. And if there’s anyone who’s Filipino… did I get the dad’s name right…?