#bops this here from my other blob

[highhhfiveee]

melodic stoner thotz

i’ve ALSO been having this silly thought about stoner!mike (who we haven’t seen in so long, i’m so sorrrrry). pls enjoy these unedited, unproofread thoughts that i typed instead of doing my work.

i listened to brie larson’s version of black sheep the other day (plus roomie and i watched the new scott pilgrim show, 8/10) and i started thinking about popstar!reader. hear me out;

you’re in a girl group, one that i currently have no name for, and you’re starting to gain traction in the states after releasing your debut album; you make high energy pop bops that emphasize on being true to yourself and standing up for what’s right with three other girls you’d met in the hallway at auditions. you’re grateful for the opportunity of course, but it’s not exactly what you’d wanted for your music career.

you have little creative control, and you’re told to sing and dance and dress a certain way; it’s a dream and a nightmare in one, and sometimes it has you wanting to leave the group all together, starting from scratch with music you actually loved.

you’re thinking about marching to the execs with your grievances when your manager sends a message to the group chat: WE’RE OPENING FOR [unnamed band that’s as big as say…the 1975 lmao] ON THEIR FALL TOUR!!!

you loved [unnamed band] and to support them on the North American leg of their tour is something you know you’d be idiotic to walk away from.

the city mike and abby live close to is stop 4 out of 10, and you’d been doing good with keeping up your charade of happiness. you sing and dance your ass off every night, knowing that you’re here and you can’t waste a moment of it; millions of aspiring musicians had wanted this but you’d finally made it to the stage.

you rarely ever fumbled during performances, a perfectionist at heart, but during the verse of one of your mid tempo songs, your eyes somehow gaze past the blinding stage lights and focus on abby (who you don’t know as abby of course lol), shouting every single word back to you with silly shimmies and head bobs.

you laugh, consumed with butterflies at the fact that she was enjoying your set so much. you’re enthralled by her energy, and it causes you to miss your cue for the prechorus. you giggle it off though you’re flustered, singing, “we have a lot of songs, my badddddd” to the melody of the music.

it makes the crowd explode with laughter, and you use that to propel you through the rest of your set, still looking towards abby as you present the outro during your final song. “thank you all so much, we love you! [bandmate 1] and i will be by the merch table once we’re off stage, and we hope to see you some of your faces there! are you all ready to see [unnamed band]????”

the crowd roars, and you watch as abby and the guy next to her disappear through the throng of people.

abby rushes straight for you once you’re sat at the merch stand, her cheeks flushed as she holds out her t-shirt for you. it’s one from your group’s first small tour, one where you’d gone to small cities throughout the country for as much exposure as possible. it was a size to big for her, draping down to her thighs. “y/n, i love you!!! can you please sign my shirt?”

“of course, cutie. i saw you dancing to [song name], is that one of your favorites?” abby nods excitedly as you scribble her name on your shirt, accenting it with a heart. you glance up at mike, who just stands behind her observing your interaction. he’s high as shit of course; he’d been a blob next to abby, really, bleary eyes and stationary, but seeing him this close revealed to you the stoner boy of your dreams.

“i take it you’re a big fan too?” you point the end of your marker at this chest. he’s wearing the same old tour shirt as abby, but his fits him well. he can’t believe your focus has moved to him now, and even though he should feel cool and calm off the edible he took before your set, your enticing gaze has him grasping for straws inside his mind.

“uh well, i…i really do it all for her, but you guys do have some solid songs. got some on your album that make me feel all powerful and sexy when i listen to them.” you both chuckle, and you motion for him to give you your hand.

you scribble your number onto his hand in red ink, musing, “well, i always love to hear what people think about our stuff. maybe…when i’m done with tour, you could tell me more over a joint or something?”

mike’s mouth goes dry, drier than it already was, but he’s nodding all languidly, leaving you with a small smirk when you give him his hand back. “yeah, yeah. sounds like a plan.”

this is kind of messy but do you all see the vision????? a full fic would be wayyyyy more structured and detailed, but i just NEEDED to get this idea out and i wanna know what you all think 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 (it would be like safety net with more smut and a tinge more angst, but definitely fluffy as hell too. like you confide in mike about the reality of your situation and he encourages you to fight for what you believe in, like one of your group’s songs ;-; still there’s lots of drama between you and the other members and the LABEL and so many entertainment people——me thinks it would go kind of nuts)

[bussyslayer333]

Congrats! 🎉

🪷 'You have a little ice cream on your nose' with best friend Bob with who you're secretly in love with.

Thank you so much in advance! 🤍

tysm <33 i hope you enjoy !!

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none! extreme fluff :)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Bob had a tradition. It was kind of silly, but you’ve been doing it since you were 14, why stop now?

Every time one of you did something deemed worthy by the other, you would go out for ice cream. It started when you got the main role for the play your high school was putting on, and Bob had insisted you go out to celebrate. You hadn’t missed out on an ice cream date since. (Well, apart from that one time that Bob was deployed and you cried into your pillow for days because of it.)

So here you were, sat in an ice cream parlour in Fightertown that Bob’s friend Rooster had recommended. You were celebrating Bob’s success on the uranium plant mission that he had been selected for. You had pushed for him to go out and celebrate at the bars with his navy friends, but Bob had simply shushed you and smiled,

“And miss out on ice cream with my best girl? You’re funny.”

You hated when he did that. Made your stomach flutter with stupid pet names. You’re pretty sure you’ve been in love with Bob since an ice cream date that took place after you broke up with your first boyfriend when you were 16.

You were overly snotty, and in no place to be seen in public, but Bob had dragged you out anyway. He made you laugh harder than you ever had, leading to you both getting kicked out, as you were both walking home with your ice creams, Bob’s hand slid into yours. You didn’t say anything in fear that he’d retract it, instead you squeezed his hand and finished your walk home with a giddy smile on your face.

Sat on some chairs outside the parlour now, you’re pretty sure you’re still sporting the same expression. Bob is retelling you what happened on the mission (leaving out any gory details that would upset you) and you’re sat with your face in you palm and an ice cream in the other hand that you’ve barely touched. Bob watches as you take your first lick of your melted ice cream and pull back. He giggles and you furrow your eyebrows,

“You have a little ice cream on your nose.”

Your eyes widen and you pull out your phone to check. There’s a small blob of your strawberry ice cream sitting pretty on the tip of your nose. Before you can react and swipe it away, you feel the wet muscle of Bob’s tongue lick it away. He leans back into his seat with a chuckle as you gawk.

“What? You never let me try your ice cream.”

“You never ask!” You roll your eyes, “I think it’s fair now that I get to try yours.”

Bob shrugs, “seems fair.”

He hands over his cone of chocolate ice cream and watches in amusement as you take it and guide it to his face, bopping it against his nose to leave a little drop of ice cream similar to yours. You hand back the cone and move from your seat so that you’re easily in front of Bob. You swipe your tongue out and lick off the chocolate ice cream,

“Wow this is good! I should have-”

You’re cut off from your rambling as Bob grabs your face with two hands, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You both taste like ice cream, and all the years of pent up feelings come flooding out. Bob pulls you onto his lap so he can deepen the kiss, and you scratch your fingers lightly into his hair like he always used to enjoy. He whimpers slightly and you pull back finally, worried about scarring any passing children.

“What was that for?” You giggle a little breathlessly.

Bob chuckles, “Being on that mission made me realise that life’s too short for me to not tell you I love you.”

Your heart clenches at his words but you can’t help but tease, “Wow Floyd, took you a near death experience to figure out you like me?”

Bob smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he remembers your first ice cream date and how his heart has beat for you ever since.

“Something like that.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

send me an emoji!

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Atlantic Rhythm & Blues 1947-1974 - Japanese Edition 2012 R&B / Doo Wop / Soul / Rock & Roll / Funk / Jazz / Blues / Pop

Alright, well, I had originally planned for this post to dovetail quite nicely with the end of Black History Month, but when you get a virus, it has a way of setting things back a bit. But then again, Black History should obviously be celebrated in every month, so either way, without further ado, here's a massive end to my foray into the history of Atlantic Records: a deeply comprehensive recounting of its first 27 years in the record business called Atlantic Rhythm & Blues: 1947-1974.

Now, maybe because of how this label is currently constituted, you think of Atlantic as being among the amorphous blob of major record labels whose fingers are seemingly in the pies of every popular genre, and the quality of the output is barely distinguishable from its other competitors. Like, who cares who's on Atlantic these days, right? A major label is a major label is a major label. They all basically feel indistinguishable from one another at this point, don't they?

But here's what you may not know about Atlantic in particular. For about two decades, until they started signing rock bands like Led Zeppelin, they were almost exclusively dedicated to nothing but secular, black-made music. And that's originally how they ended up making a name for themselves, as an independent label for black musicians that actually had a reputation for usually compensating their artists fairly.

So in 1985, the first iteration of Atlantic Rhythm & Blues 1947-1974 hit the shelves. It consisted of a whopping *186 songs*, chronologically spread across 14 separate records or 7 cassettes. And then in '91, it was reissued on CD in an 8-disc set, with an extra 17 songs mixed within.

But this edition that I have for you all today is a much, much rarer one that was issued exclusively in Japan in 2012. And what it consists of is the same eight discs from the 1991 reissue, plus two more, which have songs on it that were handpicked by Japan's own super selector, Keishi Suzuki, who ends up supplying 52 more songs—a lot of them rarities—bringing the total amount of tracks within the release to a grand total of *255*! 😯

Now, obviously, that is a whole lot of music, and I'm not gonna write an ungodly amount of paragraphs to cover it all, but regarding the first discs in this box set, what I'll say is this: these are must-listens for any old school r&b/soul/doo wop novice or junkie out there. These CDs do a wonderful job of allowing you to take a bird's eye view of this label that managed to develop itself into an indefatigable powerhouse for popular black music. From its earliest days of jazzy and jump-bluesy instrumentals, to its deeper endeavors into soul, you can trace this label's contours and get a feel for just how eminent its entire existence has been upon the history of popular music writ large. From its first star Ruth Brown—who helped earn the label its clever, Yankee Stadium-inspired nickname of 'The House That Ruth Built'—to Ray Charles, to The Drifters, to Otis Redding, to Wilson Pickett, and to the Queen of Soul herself, Aretha Franklin; it's all in those first 8 discs.

But those final two Keishi Suzuki-curated CDs are the ones I'm here to write about especially today, because a whole bunch of these total obscurities are, really, absolutely phenomenal.

Like, maybe you're familiar with 60s soul-man Don Covay, who had a solid number of Billboard Hot 100 and R&B chart hits in his career, and also penned Aretha Franklin's own mega hit, "Chain of Fools." But did you know that Covay actually started out under the name of 'Pretty Boy' and performed with a raucous Little Richard-esque rock & roll flair? Suzuki provides "Bip Bop Bip" here, an energetic tune with scratchy, throaty shouts, mashing hi-hats, and an electrifying saxophone solo. And it was actually produced by Little Richard himself!

Then there's Lawrence & The Arabians (what a fucking name, man), a short-lived all-white group, who in 1967 released the outstanding "I'll Try Harder," a fully uptempo and poppy piece of horn-heavy blue-eyed soul that sounds partially cut from some type of Motown cloth. Delightful gem right there.

And lastly, we have Peggy Scott, a pretty well-known southern soul and R&B entity in her own right who managed to make the American top 40 thrice in the late 60s. But after she stopped charting, Scott ended up releasing just one single on Atlantic—through their Atco sublabel—and in 1972, on that single's B-side, she showed that she could still more than hack it with the fantastic "One Night Is All I Need," on which her voice is striking all throughout, but is especially so whenever she goes for that gravelly passion 😌.

And these final two discs in this set have more underappreciated stunners on them too, but we're done here. This is such an excellent release that I shelled out a pretty pretty penny for, and I'm ultimately glad I did, because while the easier-to-find editions of this thing are cheaper and deeply satisfying themselves, nothing beats the thrill of being exposed to underheard gems that not very many other people know about. And in that regard, Keishi Suzuki knocked his task way out of the park.

A magnificent album, both for its extensive chronologizing of one of the most important labels in the history of popular music, as well as its extra 50+ songs that get some much needed light shone upon them too.

Highlights:

CD1:

Ruth Brown - "So Long" Joe Morris - "Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere" Ruth Brown - "Tear Drops From My Eyes" Joe Turner - "The Chill Is On" Joe Turner - "Sweet Sixteen" Willis Jackson - "Gator's Groove"

CD2:

Ruth Brown - "Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean" Ruth Brown - "Wild Wild Young Men" Ray Charles - "Mess Around" Joe Turner - "Honey Hush" LaVern Baker - "Soul On Fire" Professor Longhair - "Tipitina" The Drifters - 'White Christmas" The Drifters - "Whatcha Gonna Do" Joe Turner - "Shake, Rattle and Roll" Tommy Ridgley - "Jam Up" Al Hibbler - "After the Lights Go Down Low" Ray Charles - "I Got a Woman" Ray Charles - "Greenbacks"

CD3:

Ray Charles - "A Fool for You" Ray Charles - "This Little Girl of Mine" The Robins - "Smokey Joe's Cafe" The Drifters - "Ruby Baby" The Cookies - "In Paradise" Ray Charles - "Drown In My Own Tears" The Coasters - "Down In Mexico" Ray Charles - "Lonely Avenue" Clyde McPhatter - "Without Love" Chuck Willis - "C.C. Rider"

CD4:

Chuck Willis - "Hang Up My Rock and Roll Shoes" The Coasters - "Yakety Yak" Ray Charles - "Night Time Is the Right Time" The Coasters - "Charlie Brown" Ray Charles - "What'd I Say" The Drifters - "There Goes My Baby" Ray Charles - "Let the Good Times Roll" The Coasters - "Poison Ivy" Ben E. King - "Stand by Me" LaVern Baker - "Saved"

CD5:

The Mar-Keys - "Last Night" The Falcons - "I Found a Love" Ben E. King - "Don't Play That Song (You Lied)" Booker T. & The MG's - "Green Onions" Doris Troy - "Just One Look" Esther Phillips - "Release Me" The Drifters - "Under the Boardwalk"

CD6:

Otis Redding - "I've Been Loving You Too Long" Wilson Pickett - "In the Midnight Hour" Otis Redding - "Respect" Percy Sledge - "When a Man Loves a Woman" Wilson Pickett - "634-5789" Sam & Dave - "Hold On, I'm Coming" The Capitols - "Cool Jerk" Wilson Pickett - "Land of 1000 Dances" Eddie Floyd - "Knock On Wood" Otis Redding - "Try a Little Tenderness" Wilson Pickett - "Mustang Sally" Sam & Dave - "When Something Is Wrong With My Baby" Arthur Conley - "Sweet Soul Music" Aretha Franklin - "I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You" Aretha Franklin - "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man" Otis & Carla - "Tramp" Wilson Pickett - "Funky Broadway" Booker T. & The MG's - "Hip-Hug-Her" Sam & Dave - "Soul Man"

CD7:

Aretha Franklin - "Respect" Aretha Franklin - "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" The Bar-Kays - "Soul Finger" Aretha Franklin - "Baby, I Love You" Aretha Franklin - "Chain of Fools" Wilson Pickett - "I'm in Love" King Curtis - "Memphis Soul Stew" Aretha Franklin - "(Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You've Been Gone" Otis Redding - "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay" Archie Bell & The Drells - "Tighten Up" Clarence Carter - "Slip Away" Aretha Franklin - "Think" Clarence Carter - "Too Weak to Fight" Donny Hathaway - "The Ghetto" Tyrone Davis - "Turn Back the Hands of Time" Les McCann & Eddie Harris - "Compared to What" Aretha Franklin - "Call Me"

CD8:

Aretha Franklin - "Don't Play That Song (You Lied)" King Floyd - "Groove Me" Clarence Carter - "Patches" Wilson Pickett - "Don't Knock My Love" The Beginning of the End - "Funky Nassau (Parts 1 & 2)" Persuaders - "Thin Line Between Love and Hate" Aretha Franklin - "Rock Steady" Aretha Franklin - "Day Dreaming" Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway - "You've Got a Friend" Betty Wright - "Clean Up Woman" The Spinners - "Could It Be I'm Falling in Love" Roberta Flack - "Killing Me Softly With His Song" Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway - "Where Is the Love" The Spinners - "I'll Be Around" Roberta Flack - "Feel Like Makin' Love" The Spinners - "One of a Kind (Love Affair)" Blue Magic - "Sideshow" The Spinners - "Mighty Love"

apparently you can have too many hyperlinks in a post...will include the rest in a reblog...

[mydearestkippy]

13 March 2023 - 6w5d

Dearest Kippy,

I remember when your papa and I first found out that I was pregnant with you, 2.5 weeks ago. The date was 24 February 2023, and we had just gotten home late on a Friday night, after 3 hours of bible seminar with Han Hui. It had been an incredibly exhausting week at work, and my period was due the next day. Though I was saving my one pee stick to be used after I had clearly missed my period (so, not until 2-3 days later), something in me (perhaps the Holy Spirit) prompted me to do the pee test there and then. And so I did. I wasn’t expecting much, because I had all the symptoms of someone whose period was gonna come (pimples, cramps, etc).

I peed on the stick, and when the pee stick showed a clear positive within a minute, I was in a daze. I called your papa into the toilet and we rejoiced. It all sounds so factual and calm as I am typing this now, but trust me that when it happened there were squeals and shouts between your papa and I! I can’t exactly remember what we both said but your papa was, as always, cool as a cucumber. He did already suspect that I was pregnant because he had realised how much more hair I was dropping than usual (and he had looked it up to confirm that pregnant women drop more hair haha). 

Still in a bit of a frenzy I went to shower. When I was done and drying myself, I burst out into tears - of joy-  because I couldn’t believe how incredibly blessed we were to have conceived you. All those months and years of admiring and playing with other people’s babies, casually browsing and discussing names of my future children, feeling like I want kids but I am just not ready or would never be, journeying with my best friends / sisters in Christ through their pregnancies and childbirth and seeing their kids grow up slowly - culminated into this very moment where I can say, here I am, it is my turn now. To be a mother. I am going to have a child - to have and to hold for the rest of my life;  a child who will be dependent on me and his/her father to be his/her whole world. So much to take in. But more importantly, how God provides, and in such impeccable timing too (we only started trying for you this month, and we conceived you immediately!)

Fast forward a little to 9 March, which is just 5 days ago- we went to the gynaecologist (Dr Choo Wan Ling who came recommended by a dear friend of your mommy’s), and we saw you for the first time:

There you are, all 0.38cm of you - that little white blob in the black cavity of mommy’s womb, flanked by the two +. And as I was seeing you for the first time, I was also able to hear your heartbeat. B-bop, b-bop, b-bop...I wanted to cry when I heard each unmistakable throb, capturing the life that God was giving to you.

At 6 weeks, you were the size of a grain of rice. You were (are) so tiny but you are already so perfect. Mommy is so excited for you to grow steadily and exponentially over the next few weeks. Come week 7 you’d be a peanut, week 8 a blueberry, week 9 an almond, week 10 1 grape, and week 11 a perfect plum. 

As for symptoms, thank you for being good and not giving mommy too much trouble. Apart from some slight cramping (more so in the first few weeks - which I had mistaken for period cramps) which is normal as the uterus is expanding to make way for you, and intense fatigue (mommy can’t survive without getting at least 8-10 hours of sleep every day) due to the body needing lots more energy to form the placenta, the worst I’ve experienced is bloatedness, which sometimes causes mommy to retch. 

Bloatedness is caused by increased levels of progesterone during the first trimester. Progesterone relaxes the smooth muscle tissue throughout my body, including the tissue in my digestive tract- which slows down digestion and ensures that nutrients I consume have plenty of time to enter into my bloodstream and reach you. Unfortunately, slower digestion results in more wind and discomfort in the gut, which causes the bloatedness. Mommy thinks the bloatedness shows quite clearly now, in the form of a stomach bump under tighter fitting skirts. 

Well, I think those symptoms aren’t too bad at all, but let’s see how it goes. Mommy has been taking folic acid (a tablet a day). Folic acid is important in red blood cell formation and for healthy cell growth and function. The nutrient is crucial during early pregnancy to reduce the risk of birth defects of the brain and spine. Mommy will also start taking calcium tablets- this will ensure your teeth and bones will be strong next time, and that mommy will also not suffer from bone loss (osteoporosis) during old age. Mommy is looking forward to receiving a healthy and perfect you into the world on or before 2 November 2023.

Right now mommy won’t be sharing this good news of your existence with my friends officially yet (although a few people, like mommy’s parents, already know), until the first trimester has passed (in another 6 weeks). Meanwhile though, mommy has had to make adjustments to her diet. I have changed all my morning coffee capsules to decaf versions, and banned myself from any alcohol and raw food at all. Before I was pregnant, I had thought that it would be so hard to give up these things and control my diet so strictly (mommy has an issue with self-control and loves her coffee / oysters and sashimi / a glass of wine or can of beer from time to time, you can ask daddy) but somehow it has not been as hard to resist these things as I thought. The harder part is in not arousing my friends’ suspicion as I reject eating the very things I used to love, or as I convey the fact of my bloatedness and intense fatigue (without revealing the cause) to them.

Mommy shall sign off now, with this drawing of a cute pokemon called Mudkip, which you have been nicknamed after. 

My love for you began since you started growing in my womb, and my only mission is to keep you safe and love you always.

[butterysalt]

Thanks For Existing | Sherlock x Reader

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: In order to make a point to Irene, Sherlock goes out of his way to express his gratitude and make sure that you know what you mean to him.

Word Count: 1,504

Contains: Soft Sherlock

A/N: Haha I guess I much prefer writing Sherlock as “only a little bit of an asshole”. Enjoy!

You and Sherlock were in the records room for a few hours now searching for a very specific piece of information for a case. He stood beside you, watching idly as you flipped through the evidence files in the big metal cabinets. It wasn’t as though you had really noticed that he stopped looking around to be able to jab at him.

When you were concentrating on something and your mind isolated itself — your own “normal people” version of a mind palace, if you will — your eyebrows would furrow or twitch and you would gently grind your molars… Like how Sherlock noted that you were doing now.

“Hah!” Your eyes lit up suddenly and a bright grin flashed on your face. You drew out a single vanilla folder, flipping through the papers to check its contents and nodding triumphantly. A small smile crept onto Sherlock’s face as he watched you claim your success and do a ridiculous victory jig in the records room.

You shuffled over to him, still bouncing, waving the flat file at him in a taunting way and playfully bopping your fists into his shoulder. “I found ittt, I’m so resourceful ooooh,” you sang, mocking him shamelessly. Sherlock rolled his eyes at your nonsense and made a deep groveling chuckle that buzzed within his chest. Then he sucked in a slow breath and pondered silently.

“Y/n,” you rose a brow and urged him expectantly as you slipped the evidence report into your bag. “Are you free to get dinner with me tonight?”

You tensed up, snapping your head towards him incredulously. Sherlock stood, anticipating your response. Even for a mechanical detective like himself, you dared to go out on a limb and say he looked a little nervous.

After a few seconds of tense staring, you sputtered to yourself and saw that he was being completely serious. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, readjusting the strap of your bag on your arm and checked the clock.

“Oh… uhm, well, we finally found that bloody file so I suppose I am for the night,” you murmured unsurely, mostly to yourself. Your eyes rose carefully to meet Sherlock’s. It was so  nerve wracking to make eye contact when his icy stare was so trained on you. “Where did you have in mind?”

Sherlock grinned, “Oh, just something in mind.” The careful response surprised you and your eyes squinted at him in suspicion. He only winked at you and turned to leave the room. For now, you dismissed his secrecy and followed the tail of his trench coat, pursuing the mystery.

The supposedly super-secret location that Sherlock was taking you to was his favorite hot chips stand. A part of you was confused due to how grand he was hyping up the destination to be. But it was fitting. You’ve known Sherlock long enough to know that chips were one of the only things out of the very few in this world that could get through to him during some of his darkest times.

Both of you paid for your chips and sat on a cold bench on the bridge. The deep vibrant painted sky that the setting sun had cast over London was dispersing into tufts of a dark red and blue. The view was breathtaking.

You never had as much time as you’d like to admit to stop working and appreciate what life had to give. Your heart swelled greatly at the realization that no day ever changed. The birds danced with the merciful breeze, singing a devoted song for another. The water underneath the bridge slapped against the brick structure, ringing special bells and melodies in your ears.

The last yellow light over the horizon was pacing its way down the tall buildings of the city, decorating the glossy towers with dazzling sparkles. And then, the whole world was enveloped by a dark velvety cloak of stars and constellations. For a moment, time became irrelevant and everyone was forced to revel in it. This is what you’ve been missing out on all this time.

“Sherlock?” The detective hummed as he chewed his fresh chips. His eyes remained in front of him, gazing towards the blobs of light dancing in the city across the ocean.

“Why did you ask me to dinner tonight?” You asked warily. Sherlock stuffed his face with another handful and downed it as quickly as he consumed it. He shrugged stubbornly. “I wanted chips.”

A puff of disbelief slipped out and you allowed the growing smile to spread on your face. You rustled your own chips in your tray and began to clench and unclench your hand subconsciously. “... Was that all?”

Sherlock leaned back into the bench, eating in a much more polite manner this time. “It’s a thank you,” he said simply. You frowned and tilted your head in his direction. “A thank you? For what?”

“... Being here,” he uttered before shoving another chip in his mouth. Your eyes widened and you felt your lips parted in surprise. He wouldn’t look at you but rather just continue distracting himself with food. That’s a first.

A warmth grew in your cheeks and you lingered in contemplation before taking a bite of your own chips. You both looked forward, ignoring the silence among the two of you. But the setting was calm. Now that the sun had already set, so did the city.

You murmured quietly, “Well in that case, thank you as well.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him either as you thanked him. You darted your eyes in any other direction and hastily chewed.

Sherlock glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and his lips formed a smirk. Even when you weren’t directly looking at him, he could see the way your eyes sparkled and lit up when he was around you. You enjoyed each other's company and that was enough proof for Sherlock to believe that you really do mean something to him.

“You don’t want to have dinner with me,” Irene asked, but it came out more as a statement.

“No thanks,” Sherlock responded flatly. The woman rose a brow and a sly expression graced her face. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Oh? Now that’s interesting.” Sherlock kept his eyes closed as a way to actively ignore her but he perked a silent brow.

He could easily hear the smirk in the Woman’s voice. “Are they that special to you?” This made his brows twitch. Despite her personal jabs, Sherlock still refused to look in her direction.

A sultry laugh came from her throat. “To prove me wrong, you, Sherlock Holmes of all people, would go out of your way to play with another one of your pets. You really can’t lose at anything, can you?” Irene chuckled to herself and tilted her head, gazing at the slight facial tremors on his features. “Unless, you want my attention that badly?”

“Excuse me?” Irene grinned and bounced her shoulders. “I’m only stating, Mr. Holmes. It is a mystery how you work. You deny it, but you’re very emotional.”

His eyes were wide open now and glaring at her. He dropped his hands on the chair’s armrests. “You don’t know anything about me, Ms. Adler.”

“Is that right?” She hummed. Irene slowly got to her feet and approached the detective until she was standing in front of him. “You’ll do anything to win, Holmes. Trust me, I know. But is it possible for you to win anything and everything? A very specific person of interest by chance?”

“I don’t understand,” Sherlock said carefully. Irene lowered herself onto his lap and rested against his chest. The man did not flinch nor move away. He stared her dead in the eyes.

“You don’t know how to be intimate with someone. How to satisfy a person. At least not properly.” Sherlock rose a brow, questioning that notion.

Irene flirted and adjusted her position, leaning all her weight against him now. “Believe me, I can see the lechery in your eyes. But you won’t be able to keep them, you know. It's all a game to you. Do you really think that these boring people have the will to put up with geniuses such as you and me?”

Sherlock remained stone in his spot, glaring at the woman straddling him. Irene thought she was effectively intimidating him until he leaned forward, close enough to say words only they could hear.

“You’re not special to me.” Her eyes rose to meet his and she felt a chill run through her. “You’re not different. Not unique nor brilliant. You’re the same as any one else I’ve ever perceived. Just way in over your head.”

Sherlock easily pushed her off his lap then stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from her. The Woman stood back, staring at his back in shock.

Holmes opened the door to his bedroom and hollered behind him, “Lock the door before you leave, thanks!”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

another season has passed, the pleasant winds of spring has shifted to the basking heat of summer, and as the seasons change there brings the smell of opportunity, the taste of something different, new and perhaps exciting, and as such the Raven has felt inspired to greet the occasion with a plethora of fresh colours from her ink collection (this is my fancy way of asking raven if she’s got any new inks to show us please?)🥰

:000 I really enjoy these types of asks, as it gives me the chance to get creative~ so thank you very much for sending it, Anon!

You can read more about Miss Raven’s various enchanted inks here!

"This year, I paid a visit to the Scalding Sands to view their annual fireworks festival. I was very inspired by the rich history and culture of Silk City, its markets, and by the holiday itself, so I decided to model this summer collection of enchanted inks after them. I have also brewed a few inks in honor of the Star Sending ceremony, and various others inspired by more general summertime experiences."

Silk Swathe, a soft blue base with sheer veins of color shooting through it. Orchid purple, electric yellow-green, and bright turquoise tangle, yet somehow also maintain their own unique forms, like swathes of silk weaving together in the sky.

Spice of Life, a deep brown, leaning warm, and flecked with red and orange particles. There are larger bits floating in it, sticks of snapped cinnamon and star-shaped cloves of anise. If you lift it to your nose, you are greeted with several ground spices, which produce an earthen, comforting smell--reinvigorating you with a fondness for life.

Bizarre Bazaar, a kaleidoscopic formula, shifting constantly in the light. Uncorked, voices drift out from the ink, calling you to look, to test, to buy. When you replace the cap, the voices still and coalesce in the colors again.

Food from Afar, a dainty cream decorated with dots--capsules containing pure, concentrated flavors. Crushed, the taste and aroma of a particular dish released and spread across the paper like upon the tongue and coloring the cream into something new. Green for silk melon, yellow for starfruit, red for shawarma, blue for delightfully stretchy ice-cream... and many more.

Sky Blossoms and Sparklers, an inky blue fading into sunset, with periodic bursts of light coloring it. The pops released heat, warming your hands and shaking the bottle that held the ink.

Waterways, a clear, sheer aqua blue, complete with tiny white beads to replicate bubbling and foaming. Plain, at first glance, but its simplicity is its strength. Loaded into a pen or on the nib of a quill, it works wonderfully, even for beginners. A smooth ink, flowing like the most pristine of waters.

Unwinded Time, a crimson kept in an hourglass-shaped bottle. As the ink slowly trickles into the other side, it transitions into a cool blue. Left untouched for an hour, it becomes yellow. In direct sunlight, an opaque black--by direct moonlight, an equally as opaque white. (“Y-Yes, I’m aware the proper phrase would be ‘Unwound Time’, but allow me some poetic license!” Raven huffs.)

Diamond Sky, a navy littered with silver sparkles and glitter. Shake it, and all the particles seem to shimmer in unison, as if daring onlookers to soar through and pluck each one of its silvery stars out.

Dragon in Jasmine, a deceptive lime green that sheds its original skin in favor of a teal hide every few seconds. There is a beautiful white flower floating in the bottle, imparting the lovely aroma of jasmine.

Wish Come True, an ink the color of daydreams--pink, lilac, and baby blue, with a slight pearlescent shimmer. It radiates a faint light when you hold it close to your heart, as if seeking your innermost desires.

Dark and Stormy Ceremony, a story blue beset by viscous grey blobs--one of which is distinctively whale-shaped. The ink smells of ozone, telling of thunder and a coming storm.

Real Boy, a cool and metallic silver, bits of it lighting up with cobalt. When the blue light fades, the silver turns into a warm and flushed peach. Alas, when the light comes again, it’s back to silver.

Bop to the Top, a color kept in a madly bouncing bottle. It rapidly runs through the full spectrum of blues, as if in a rush. (Raven looks a bit nervous and says, “I’d recommend keeping this one under lock and key--it’s always attempting to fly off the handle... but play it some music, and it will bop along to the beat instead of attempting to launch into the sky.”)

[pinkhairedlily]

Alone With You

For #KakaSaku Month 2021

Week 1, Day 4, Same Age AU

Rating: G

Pairing: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi

Summary:

Kakashi was the misunderstood pariah, and she was the school’s takane no hana. He comfortably pined for her from afar until prom when all he wanted was – at most – a dance.

Note: Takane no hana is translated as flower on a high peak. It depicts someone as out of anyone’s reach. This AU is loosely inspired from Hibi Chouchou.

Maybe it was the long scar on the left side of his face or the atrocious beauty mark. Maybe it was the menacing way he looked at his classmates or the sarcastic quips he gave in conversations. It couldn’t be his hair – silver, smooth, and the length of a mullet. They should have loved him for that, but instead, they set him a level above eccentric bordering on deviant. Nonetheless, he was their school’s pariah.

And what can a pariah actually do to get close to a takane no hana? Haruno Sakura - pink hair, jade eyes, rosy cheeks, and plump lips. She was a cherry blossom tree growing in the highest mountain, and to get there one has to go through multiple quests and surrender treasured items. He would have set on this journey a long time ago if not for her making it clear that she didn’t intend to date. He remembered her announcing it in the middle of general assembly when a guy confessed to her on stage for the umpteenth time. So that was how it came to be, stealing glances and moments she doesn’t even know of.

He had this hiding spot in the shrubbery and the big camphor tree beside their building. No one bothered to go there because someone got bitten with a snake some years ago so he took advantage of its notoriety. He made it his sleeping abode, his reading nook, or his eavesdropping spot. That was where he also had his first interaction with Sakura.

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

She just jumped out of nowhere and into his lap where a book was still open for his consumption. Red flush took over her cheeks, but she stayed where she was, and hands went to his mouth when he attempted to say something.

“I swore I saw her run towards this area.”

“You’re so stingy. Her actions were pretty clear that she didn’t want to hear your confession.” She was visibly annoyed, her brows furrowing and meeting in the middle, but even so, she was a sight to behold. Her hair was done up in a bun, but stray locks escaped during her unintended rendezvous, and they curtained her striking jade eyes and softened the glare on them.

“I don’t even want a yes. I just need a definite no.”

This other voice was mocking. “I don’t want a yes, but you kept on pestering her for weeks.”

“My pride was hurt. Everyone told me I was the most handsome and yet I got rejected? I had to make sure she wasn’t blind.” They heard further shuffling of feet and then several dejected sighs. “Yeah, she’s not here. Maybe I should set my eyes on another school’s muse?”

Kakashi eased down her hands still clamping his mouth shut and peeked at the retreating figures. “They’re gone now. Maybe you should also rethink what provocations this position has.”

Sakura slid down to the ground next to him and pulled her knees closer to her chest. “Thanks.”

“You don’t see me as part of your cult following?” He surveyed his already crumpled book – he was just getting to the good part.

“If you have, you would have kissed me by now.” She wasn’t pulling punches. She was straightforward as a line, and she startled him with a direct, unwavering gaze. “Hatake Kakashi.”

“Congratulations. I’m guessing you noticed my calling card.” He pointed to his scar, almost sure of his assumptions.

But she smiled at him – spring blooming in indian summer. “We ride the same train every day.” Shock must have been apparent on his face since she started to leave, but not without chuckling within his hearing.

After that, he finally noticed her – a pink blob in the morning crowd. Sometimes, she was far away from his seat, but more often than not, she was just on the opposite side. Earphones in, hair undone, and in joggers instead of skirts. The first time he saw her disguise, if she could even call it like that, he laughed out loud. The people around him shifted nervously, but it was her reaction that amused him. Her eyes widened, questioning him a few feet away what the hell did he see. Every time they reach their school’s station, however, he lost her, and he knew better than to loiter. She was the takane no hana.

Across the school terms, he made sure to keep her within his sights and out of the prying hands and attention of boomers and men with no self-respect. He intervened only when she would signal, but truthfully, he didn’t need those. He just needed to see her eyes. His attention during his morning train rides shifted from the books in his bag to the pink-haired girl bopping her head to music.

In the middle of winter finals, she sat beside him and shared her other earphone.

Isn’t it odd the way we try to tell ourselves we got limits?

You’re beautiful, but you just don’t see it sometimes

And I don’t know why, you’re the shape of my days

Oh, you’re my holy place

And I know everything’s good, everything’s just as it should be

When you’re alone with me

Everything’s good, everything’s just as it should be

When you’re alone with me

When I fall, I’m fine

All I wanted was your time

Everything’s good, everything’s just as it should be

When you’re alone, alone with me

“Hmm. You should stop doing this.” Kakashi took off the earphone and gave it back to her. A glimpse of disappointment flashed across her face. “Because I might just fall in love with you.”

He proceeded to move away from her and into the end of the compartment. He still got her in his periphery, and it didn’t escape his notice that she smiled, the red flush creeping into her cheeks, the winter cold serving as a good excuse. He hoped then and there if he could bet everything on that one expression.

She didn’t have her earphones on when they met again for the next school year, but she made sure to be within his proximity, the distance closing in every train ride – two seats apart, an arm’s length, and finally shoulder to shoulder.

“I wonder why I don’t see you in my afternoon train rides.” She also stopped wearing joggers.

“I work part time after class.”

“Is that why you try to catch some reading while traveling?” Her eyes pointed to the opened book on his lap, the passage swirling in his thoughts, and he read instead the many phrases in her eyes.

“You’re oddly distracting,” he murmured and shoved the book bag into his bag.

“Well, sorry. It’s because you’re not talking to me in school.” In all honesty, he heard the pout in her voice, and his heart only further melted into a pool of adoration. “I need some book recommendations though, and I’d appreciate it if you would pick them with me in the library.”

My God, she has become braver. Kakashi looked at her and saw the pointed lip and furrowed brows. “Are you serious?”

“Classics because I need more than a Romeo and Juliet.”

In the afternoon, they met in the library in between dusty shelves and long forgotten volumes of books. He gave her the usual – Pride and Prejudice, Tale of Two Cities, Wuthering Heights, Scarlet Letter, Little Women, and his favorite and definitely not a classic yet – The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro. Having done what he was asked to do, he took his leave, quietly and quickly, not wanting to associate with her in this open space.

The next few weeks she immersed herself in those books and did not enjoin him in conversation. When she finally did, he was caught offguard.

“Does that have a violent history?”

He gestured to his scar and she confirmed it with a short nod. “It was from a cat.” She laughed out loud when he gave that answer, earning weird looks from other passengers. “Aren’t you gonna ask me if that’s true?”

She was still reeling from his reply and gave herself a few seconds to calm down. “No. it’s very typical of you.”

“Huh?”

“I bet you just carried it and hugged it like you would a dog.”

“That’s why I’m a dog person now.”

“What’s its name?”

“Pakkun.”

Again, she laughed, unrestrained melody intertwining with the noise of the crowd, the screech of the rails, and the whistles of the train.

When summer came, she cut her hair short, but that only made her more beautiful. It emphasized her jawline and brought more focus to her eyes. But his hair was long, almost a mullet, and some strands were disrupting his vision. It didn’t help at all in this heat, but he’d rather maintain that odd reputation of his. She quietly tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to turn around. He did so within the limited space they were allowed, and she tied his hair up for him.

Before he could glance back and thank you, the train suddenly stopped, and she was pushed forward and against his back. He hoped several times now and yet he hesitated. What more certainty was he asking for when he could literally hear her heartbeat. For a moment, he imagined her arms enclose around his waist and pull him in, safe in the wall of the crowd, alone with each other’s feelings. But it was nothing more than a brief respite from a faraway dream.

Last year of high school, and he has yet to resolve his feelings, let alone confess. When prom season dawned, he wished he didn’t have to go to school. There wasn’t a day that she wasn’t being confessed to or invited to be someone’s date, but Sakura stood her ground and rejected all offers. That made his chances dwindle down to zero as well. After all, what did a takane no hana have to do with a school pariah?

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

“Kakashi.”

He looked up from his book and saw her nervously twirling her fingers. “Sakura.”

“Are you going to prom?” she asked, her voice ladened with faint insecurity.

“Not my vibe,” he replied. He turned to another page, and another, and he finally finished it. Yet she still hasn’t reacted. “So do you have a partner yet?”

She smiled at him. “I guess I’m going solo.”

“Your suitors not up to your standards?”

She shook her head and scrolled through her phone. She opened a picture of her trying out her prom dress and showed it to Kakashi. “Too bad I really wanted to dress up.”

She embodied a princess with an agenda, the front almost a heart-shaped bralette with butterfly sleeves and the back with a low cut, ending just above her waist. The bottom was a mermaid’s tail with colors blending in shades of green. Dear God, please have mercy on me. “Have fun, Sakura.”

He should have just kept his mouth shut because when the prom day itself came around, he decided to go for it, especially after seeing the downcast look on her face when he told her to go have fun.

Indeed, she went alone, with a dignity like a takane no hana only has. She was distant even to her friends, and she put on an air of defense that drew everyone away from her sphere. He wondered what expression she’d wear if he closed in that gap.

And then, he heard the whispers, the gasps, and the not-so-subtle pointing fingers.

No use in hiding now. Kakashi stepped out from the back, donned in white, his silver hair tied like how she did it, and walked towards the still unsuspecting Sakura.

His steps fell in tune with the opening song – the one that made him bet everything on that tiniest possibility. At most, for tonight, he only wanted a dance.

“Is he serious?”

“That’s Hatake Kakashi, right? He’s that handsome?”

“Wait, I don’t want to see this. He’s gonna ask Sakura for a dance.”

“The secondhand embarrassment is real.”

All I want is your time. “Sakura.”

Her breath audibly hitched in her throat when she heard his voice. She turned to him with an intensity that almost made her fall, but he caught her in time in his arms. “I was just about to ask you for a dance. This saves me time, I guess.”

“About time, you slowpoke.”

Kakashi smiled at her and led her to the center of the ballroom, his feet and arms guiding her in the dance, amid the gasps of onlookers, and the conversations that spread like wildfire. But with every step, he pulled her closer to him, slowly muting the noise with the sound of her heels, the rush of her train, and his own loud heartbeat. “I wonder if this is all right.”

She closed whatever gap was between them and laid her head across his chest, her nose on his collarbone, and almost, almost, he could feel her lips on his skin. “What’s all right?”

“You, takane no hana and all. Me, pariah and all.”

“I made a plan in my head – that the next time I see you, I’m gonna confess.”

Kakashi chuckled nervously, almost choking on his own saliva. “There was a minute possibility of the off chance that you liked me.”

“Because I do. I really do. And you didn’t make it any easier. Avoiding me, only talking to me in the train? I shared my favorite song with you, for goodness’ sake. I don’t care about takane no hana. I don’t do half-hearted feelings, and I’ve been trying my best to meet you halfway.”

He brought her closer, not anymore dancing, but hugging in the middle of the room, unaware of anyone. “I mustered whatever courage I have to stand beside you today in this crowd. I’m sorry it took this long.”

Sakura briefly loosened from his embrace, and in the midst of those dim lights, and cacophony of shoes, glasses, shutter clicks, champagne pops, and gowns, she recited a quote off his favorite book. “It would be the saddest thing to me. To walk separately from you, when the ground will let us go as we always did.”

“That would make for good marriage vows.”

“That….escalated a lot more quickly than I expected.”

“Come here.” He pulled her in back to his embrace, and they danced with such abandoned happiness – so evident that the strangers backed off, and everyone started to accept as such.

And when the confetti fell and the dim strobe lights turned off momentarily to give way to the bright light, Kakashi searched for her lips and found them waiting just below his chin.

“I was aiming for the beauty mark.”

“You’ll get more chances later.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot “Artistic Differences” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Kurt and Blaine have known each other all their lives. They've loved each other almost as long. But as Blaine uses his love for Kurt as inspiration for his music, Kurt has yet to reciprocate. And since painting is Kurt's entire world, Blaine is worried about what that might mean for the two of them. (2703 words)

Notes: I had been writing this for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'opinion'. I finally finished it. Wee! XD

Read on AO3.

Baby, you're not alone...

'Cause you're here with me...

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down...

'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you...

And you know it's true...

It don't matter what'll come to be...

Our love is all we need to make it through...

Blaine stops singing when he notices an echo haunting his lyrics, lingering on the high notes for longer than written. He listens with eyes closed, smiling at his keyboard. 

His boyfriend Kurt, humming behind the melody. 

Blaine has been ironing this song out for the past three hours now but Kurt hasn't complained once about the constant stopping and starting.

He never does. 

Blaine peeks over his shoulder as he continues to play with the harmonies and watches Kurt, focused on the canvas in front of him, swaying to the rhythm of the music, happily sandwiched between his two passions - art and music.

It's a mild and sunny Saturday - a whole day devoted to cleaning up commissions and tying loose ends on weekly projects before their one day off together. Blaine and Kurt share a studio space - normally unheard of for an artist and a musician, but they make it work. It helps that they've known one another for so long that being alone together is the same as being alone with themselves. That also means they get the inside scoop on what the other is working on long before the public does.

And what they're not working on, which has begun to bother Blaine.

Blaine adores everything his talented boyfriend comes up with. Even regarding his more controversial works, there isn't a thing Kurt has painted that Blaine finds objectionable. Kurt puts his heart and soul into every painting, no matter who it's for, and no matter the subject. A writer from Artforum once wrote: "Kurt Hummel goes beyond the veil to showcase not just the external, but the core of every subject - their drives and motivations. It pairs nicely with the transparency of his own soul, which shines through the gouache and the gesso to leave the viewer with a tangible piece."

And therein lies the root of Blaine's problem.

A glance at one of Kurt's canvasses and the world knows everything it needs to about what he loves.

But one subject in particular has gone wholly unrepresented.

“How come you've never painted a portrait of me?” Blaine asks.

"Hmm... what's that, love?" Kurt mutters, switching out brushes, then moving from a blob of Titanium White to a smear of Winsor Blue.

"How come you've never painted a portrait of me?" Blaine rises off his piano bench and relocates to the wooden folding chair behind Kurt's easel in the hopes of pulling his attention a bit. "You've been an artist for as long as I've known you, and I've known you your entire life. But not once have you ever painted a portrait of me."

“Why do I need to? I have you right here," Kurt says, pretending to bop the tip of Blaine's nose with his brush. "Besides, these aren’t personal." His gaze bounces between the three canvases set on easels in an arc in front of him. "They’re bought and paid for.”

"But what about your private stuff? You've shown me your sketchbooks and your digital art files. Unless you have some hidden folder marked 'secret boyfriend art' that I've yet to come across, there's not a single piece of me in any of your work."

Kurt doesn't steer his gaze away from the apple he's adding highlights to to acknowledge his pouty boyfriend, but the corner of his mouth hitches. "If you say so, dear."

"I know so," Blaine grumps, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping back in the chair so hard he nearly topples it over.

"That's your opinion."

"You're evading."

"Is it really so important to you?"

"Yes! It would be nice to be immortalized by my artist boyfriend!"

Kurt snickers. "Are you that much of a narcissist?"

"Your art is important to you! More than that - it's your life! You paint everything that you love! You've made dozens of paintings of Finn, your father, your mother, your Navigator... "

"My Navigator is my baby. It deserves love. I don't get to drive it much living in the city," Kurt defends. "Besides, those paintings I posted on Instagram landed me a huge contract with Lincoln, and that paid for our month-long tryst to Bali. You're welcome, by the way."

"I'm not saying I'm not grateful... " Blaine pauses, the smile on his face a souvenir from thirty straight days of overindulgence in sex and alcohol. "I think I more than proved that on that private beach? Under the moonlight?"

"Yeah, you did," Kurt growls, silently hoping that will be the end of this discussion.

"But... " Blaine picks up and Kurt's heart sinks.

No luck.

"... nowhere am I present in your work. Not that I've seen. Not even in the abstract. And that makes me think... " 

"Think what?" Kurt mutters, his playful attitude fading the longer this conversation drags on.

Blaine sighs, realizing how much like a spoiled toddler he sounds. But he's in too deep to stop now. "That you don't expect me to be around long."

Kurt's snicker turns into a full-blown chortle. "We've been together forever! You staked a claim on me in kindergarten! Are you suddenly going somewhere?"

"Can't you take this seriously?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous!"

Blaine huffs. "Great. So my feelings are ridiculous."

"No, Blaine, your feelings are valid. This argument is ridiculous. Believe it or don't, you don't know everything about me. Or my work. What does it matter what I put on a canvas? I told you that I love you! That I would always love you! I tell you over and over and over! Those are my words! My truth! Listen to my truth!"

"B-but what if you change your mind?" Blaine grimaces when that toddler inside him begins throwing an all-out tantrum.

"Then I change my mind!" Kurt groans, slamming his free hand down on an open tube of Dandelion Green, sending a thick ribbon of paint a good four feet. "I'm allowed to change my mind! And so are you! But I don't see that happening!"

"Then why won't you marry me?"

Kurt pulls a face, probably without thinking about it. "Because I'm not very fond of marriage."

"Why not? Your parents had a great marriage! And your father has a wonderful second marriage!"

"But your parents don't have a very good marriage, do they? Nor your older brother, who's been divorced twice already! " Kurt argues, frustration causing him to forget himself and clean his stained hand on the untucked hem of his shirt instead of a rag. That should be a huge red-flag for Blaine to back down, yet he doesn't. Common sense? Sorry, don't know her. "And the national average isn't that great, either. Doesn't it mean more that I choose to stay with you instead of feeling obligated to?"

Blaine doesn't have an answer for that, even though the answer is obviously yes. Of course, it does. And in high school, that would have been enough to shut Blaine up. But admitting to that feels too much like conceding, and this one time, this is an argument he wants to win. "Did you hear that song I've been working on?" Blaine asks, switching gears so quickly, it puts Kurt on edge.

"Yes," Kurt replies, his voice becoming tight quickly. "It's lovely."

"I wrote it for you."

"Thank you. It sounds wonderful. Another huge hit in the making."

"It's the 15th song I've written in your honor."

"Wow," Kurt says dryly, predicting the direction this is heading. "That many?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's an incredibly kind and loving gesture, one that I didn't know required reciprocation."

"It doesn't require reciprocation. But it would be nice."

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine's agenda. Tit for tat. Is that how this is supposed to work? "From what I remember, those songs made you a pretty penny."

"So?"

"So, it's not like you wrote them for me and kept them between us. Most of those songs are chart-toppers."

"But I didn't release them for the money! I wouldn't care if they didn't make me a dime! I put them on the albums because I'm not afraid to let the world know how I feel about you!"

Kurt's brow furrows as he fights through a blooming headache to decode that declaration. Once he gets it, he gasps. "I'm not hiding you away if that's what you're implying! You go with me EVERYWHERE! Every gallery opening, every art show! There have been articles written about our relationship! You're no dirty little secret!"

"I never said I was."

"No?" Kurt chuckles bitterly. "You're sure implying it a great deal!"

"That's not what this is about."

"You're right. It's not. Blaine!" Kurt tosses his brush into a mug of water and starts pacing the floor. "I am a gay artist walking a very fine line."

"I'm a gay artist, too!" Blaine says, offended.

"But you're a musician. And a songwriter. Musicians are supposed to use love as their muse. Writing about your relationship is expected... unless you're Taylor Swift, apparently."

"Yeah. What's up with that?"

Kurt shrugs. "I don't know. The point is that the second I make a piece of art about our relationship in any way, shape, or form, I'm afraid that's all it will be about, no matter what I intend."

"Isn't art supposed to be subject to interpretation?"

"That's just it! If I hint that my art has anything to do with you, that will become the only interpretation. Because too many straight people see the homosexual experience as solely about the right to fuck who we want to fuck and nothing else. I make a portrait about you or dedicated to you, and after that... " Kurt's eyes leave Blaine's face, scanning the room and his canvasses all around for help making his argument. He finds a painting of a forest they hiked through in Bali and stops there "... a tree that I paint will no longer be just a tree. It will become a symbol. In a forest of evergreens, if one needle is slightly browner than the rest because the paint oxidizes weirdly or whatever, then it'll be about you and me on the skids and nothing else. And I don't want that to happen."

Blaine turns in his chair to find the painting Kurt is staring at. On the surface, it's trees, dirt, and sky, but underneath, it's much more than that. That painting of their beloved paradise is perfection - so much so that he can feel the sun on his face, the breeze kissing his cheek, smell the sunscreen on his skin. "I understand what you're saying, but... "

"But?" Kurt grinds out between his teeth. This is the frustrating thing about arguing with Blaine. Even when he says he sees Kurt's point of view, he doesn't seem to really.

And when he's not winning, he gets dismissive.

"... I think you're overthinking things a little."

"And you're not?"

"Another evade," Blaine says, pointing at him in a way reminiscent of his brother's only acting technique.

Kurt grabs the hair at his temple and pulls to keep from flinging the palette in his hand like a frisbee at Blaine's head. "Isn't it more important that you know how I feel about you? You inspire me every day! Your love, your support, your music - they feed my soul! But do I have to plaster it on a wall to make it real?"

"That's kind of an empty question because you don't! There are no paintings of me! Not even in our apartment! And I'm sorry, but I think that's very telling!"

Kurt nods, his lips pulled taut. "You're right, Blaine. Not one. And it is very telling." He drops his palette on his work table and circles the room, grabbing finished canvases and carrying them over. He positions them purposefully, placing some under UV lights he has mounted to runners on the ceiling. 

"What... what are you doing?" Blaine asks with worry, wondering if Kurt is about to do something hasty, something that will ruin his paintings, waste all those hours of work, jeopardize the money he has yet to collect for them. 

Kurt doesn't answer. 

He doesn't even look at him. 

He works silently, his shoulders rigid, his footsteps heavy as he collects paintings Blaine forgot about, paintings that had made Blaine bristle because they were of places they had been to together, things they had made a point to see only with each other, but not a one included him. Those Kurt flips upside down.

He swipes a squeeze bottle of clear liquid from his army of supplies. It could be water. It could be paint thinner. Blaine doesn't know, but he's not certain he wants to find out. He's about to leap off his seat to stop him, but Kurt switches off the overhead lights, turns on the UVs, and Blaine stops. He watches in horror as Kurt douses the flipped canvases in fluid, but the paint doesn't run. Whatever is in that bottle, it sticks, but only in certain areas, and before it dries completely, Kurt dusts the paintings with a fine powder, one that brings hidden images to life beneath the lights.

“Oh my God,” Blaine mutters, stepping back to get a better look.

Every painting, in one way or another, is of him. Of them. And not just recently. There are images of them from college, high school... middle school. There are profiles of Blaine in the negative space between flowers of one painting, and in the clouds of another. A fluorescent image of teenaged him playing guitar to a silhouette of Kurt sitting beside him. There are shadows of them dancing, singing, even a daring one of them making love up against a wall. 

And the flipped landscapes? Their vacation pictures, as it were? The glowing dust reveals portraits hiding in plain sight, painted upside down and invisible to the naked eye. All of these images, Kurt painted in ways where no one would detect them if they weren't looking for them. If they didn't know they were there.

And they are in every. single. one.

Now that he's seen this, it's safe to assume all of Kurt's works carry similar Easter eggs, even paintings long gone.

"Why... why didn't you tell me about this?" Blaine asks, too stuck on stupid to move, walk from painting to painting and examine them properly.

"Why did I need to? I love you. I've told you. What else did I need to prove?"

Blaine shakes his head slowly, ashamed of himself. What an imbecile he is! Kurt is absolutely right. He loves him! He didn't need to prove it! The hurt Blaine felt - that was on him. It wasn't Kurt's responsibility to fix it. There isn't a day that goes by where Kurt doesn't show his love to Blaine in one way or another. Blaine didn't need this. He really didn't.

And right now, he doesn't feel he deserves it.

On a side note, how wrapped up in his own crap has he been that here, in this space that they share, where proximity has forced Kurt to memorize every song Blaine has been writing for his latest album while he paints, that he never realized just how frickin' talented his boyfriend is!?

"Kurt... " Blaine finally finds the strength to take a step forward, drawn to that ghostly image of them making love. It's a simple shadow of the moment, but it evokes a powerful memory "... these are incredible. How did you... ?" Blaine expects an answer before he can finish. Kurt is rarely shy about discussing his work.

Though Blaine should use this opening to his advantage - apologize since those should have been the first words out of his mouth.

But he gets nothing.

"Kurt?" Blaine looks over his shoulder in search of his boyfriend, ready to make amends. 

But Kurt is gone.

[icefire149]

An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Three - (Read on ao3 / Read from the beginning)

A few days later, Cas heard the rumble of a car approaching his secluded cabin. Holding Jack close in his arms, he peeked out the front window. “Okay honeybee, I need you to be on your best behavior.”

Cas turned away from the window, and held Jack up in front of him with both hands. He could feel that Jack was close to another growth spurt. “We can’t have Claire running headfirst into teeth, and claws, and all kinds of trouble.” He placed Jack in the middle of his play pen. Cas bopped him lightly on the nose. “That’s Dean’s job, remember?”

Jack giggled, and tightly grabbed the side of his teddy bear in his fist. He pulled it close, watching Cas closely.

“I’ll be right back, Jack.”

Jack babbled a long stream of noise. Cas smiled softly and nodded along. When Jack was done, he rolled onto his tummy and busied himself reaching for a colorful disk shaped toy. It was something Kelly had insisted on. Cas didn’t quite understand it, but Jack seemed to enjoy chewing on them instead of stacking them.

Cas hurried outside. He found Claire sitting on the hood of her car. She crossed her arms, and Cas couldn’t read her expression.

“Where’s your car?”

Cas furrowed his eyebrows and nodded towards the car parked next to hers. He had no idea what model it was nor did he particularly care to know. It just happened to be there when he needed to ditch and switch cars. And it was green. He liked that.

“What happened to the big one you had before?”

“Oh.” He sighed, and looked past Claire wistfully. “The continental. That got misplaced back a while ago.”

“How could you misplace that eyesore? I thought you loved that thing.”

“I did, but...I wasn’t in control of my body when it was lost.”

Claire’s cheeky smile fell. With the heel of her boot, she launched herself forward and stopped in front of Cas. She spoke with a low voice. “What do you mean?”

Cas sighed. “There’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

Claire nodded, and bit her bottom lip. She lightly punched Cas’ forearm. “I know. I haven’t seen you in centuries.”

Cas’ head tilted to the side just a bit. “Humans don’t live that long, Claire.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Castiel.”

“I do.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

A heartbeat later Claire crashed into him, wrapping her arms around Cas in a tight hug. She pressed the side of her face into his chest. “So how much trouble are you in?”

Cas hugged her back, and his eyes scanned the area around them. “Quite a bit. Were you followed?”

“Not that I know of.” Claire let go, taking a step back. A worried look marred her face.

“Did you tell anyone that you were coming here?”

“No. Jody thinks I’m looking into a haunting in Iowa.”

“Good.” Cas looked around again. They were still alone. “Let’s bring your stuff inside. I want to see what kind of arsenal you’re working with.”

Claire snorted and laughed. “Arsenal is a strong word.”

It wasn’t long after that, that Claire was holding the front door open while Cas was carrying her two large duffle bags into the house.

“So what’s the big mission that has you hiding in the woods?”

“I’ll show you,” Cas called over his shoulder while he set the bags down next to the kitchen table. He led her into the living room and motioned a hand towards the play pen. “Claire, I want you to meet Jack.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks next to Cas. Her eyes locked onto the colorful play pen. “Castiel.” The hand closest to him latched onto the sleeve of his coat. Claire suddenly felt very small, like when she was still a kid living with her family in Pontiac, Illinois. “Why do you have a baby?”

“He’s my mission. I promised his mother that I’d keep him safe.”

Claire let go. She tore her gaze away and glared at Cas. “Safe from what?”

He looked at her sadly. “Heaven and Hell.”

“What is he?”

“He’s Jack.” Claire’s eyes narrowed so he continued, “He’s half human and half archangel.”

Claire’s face twisted in confusion. “Is that even allowed?”

“Not at all.”

“So where’s the archangel? Shouldn’t they be here?”

“No.” Cas crossed the room and saw Jack laying on his back. The baby reached his hands up, wanting to be picked up.

“Why? They did the deed, so why are you the one playing house?” Claire crossed her arms.

Cas leaned over and lifted Jack. “His father is Lucifer.”

“Lucifer!” Claire shot backwards and hit the arm of the couch. She hit the floor with a thud. “His dad’s the DEVIL?”

Jack started crying. Huge blobs of tears and snot ran down his face.

Cas pulled him in close, rocking and bouncing him. “Shhh, it’s okay.” He met Claire’s wide eyed stare. “We’re all okay. There’s no reason to be scared.”

Claire didn’t move a muscle while Cas left the room and returned with a calmer Jack. His face was clean, but his baby cheeks were still red from crying. His big blue eyes locked onto Claire, and stayed there as Cas sat down on the far end of the couch.”

“Cas I-” Claire’s mouth hung open. She didn’t know what to say, and she felt unsure about the baby’s unyielding stare.

Cas patted the cushion next to him. “Join us and I’ll give you the short version.”

Wordlessly, Claire scrambled up to her feet and sat as far away as possible on the couch. She crossed her arms, leaning back in the cushions, and tried to only look at Cas. “So what happened to his mom?”

Cas frowned. He stared down at Jack’s fine, sandy brown hair. “Her name was Kelly Kline. She….she died in childbirth.”

“Oh.”

“Birthing nephilim is fatal. Always.”

Cas’ gaze lifted, and Claire’s head tilted to the side while she thought. “Even if the angel was the mother?”

“Huh…” Cas chuckled softly. “I don’t know. And I’m not planning to find out.”

A mischievous grin grew on Claire’s face. “Don’t angels have to take sex ed like the rest of us?”

“Angels aren’t expected to have sex at all.”

The grin drooped. “At all? How do you reproduce? Osmosis?”

“I think you’re thinking of asexual reproduction in single cell organisms.”

“That’s not the point!”

Cas shook his head. “Angels aren’t born. My siblings and I….we were all made during the beginning of creation. Our purpose is….was to serve Heaven. Follow orders…..” His voice trailed off as he focused his attention on Jack. Cas’ thumb brushed gently, back and forth, on the side of Jack’s arm. “The whole incident when we really met…..the angels tore me from your father’s body, because I was seeing through the cracks in Heaven’s walls, and I was reprimanded for it.”

Claire sat up at that. She turned, crossing a leg over the other so she could be facing Cas completely. “Explain. Because, I don’t really know much about what you guys actually did. Dean told me once that you saved the world.”

“Dean….is a bit of a revisionist.” A sad look flashed across Cas’ face before he looked back up at Claire. “But at that time, we were trying to stop the seals of Lucifer’s cage from breaking.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t work,” Claire said pointing at Jack.

“No, it didn’t.” Contemplative, Cas looked down at the baby in his lap. Jack leaned back into him and started tugging at Cas’ dark blue tie. “We tried, but…like I said, the cracks in Heaven’s walls….and they ran deep. Those at the very top. The ones giving orders, they wanted the apocalypse, and I got strapped to Naomi’s chair for trying to warn Dean of their betrayal.”

“And that’s when dad tried coming home.” Claire’s voice grew quiet. Her gaze fell to her hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry.”

Claire fiddled and picked at the hangnail on the side of her thumb. Quietly, she asked, “What did you mean by strapped to Naomi’s chair?”

Cas was silent for a long time. “Ever since the earliest homo sapiens, humans have used their fingers to count. Ten fingers.” He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. His expression was disconcerting. “It’s more than enough to count the number of angels that have basked in God’s presence. The rest of us had to rely on faith.”

Cas kept his voice even while he watched Jack. He tried to pry the end of his tie from the baby’s vice grip hands, but he was losing the fight. He continued, “For millennia it was considered an honor. Faith is a precious gift that all my father’s creations share. I know now that we were being smug, and that my father spent his time laughing at the folly of it all.”

A chunk of tie was still gripped tightly in Jack’s fist, but that didn’t stop him from shoving a part of that same fist into his mouth. He looked up and watched Cas innocently.

“I have no idea when God disappeared from Heaven, but Michael kept the system going. And Heaven demanded obedience. Anyone that strayed from the path was given two options: they leap or they’re pushed. Either way, they fall.”

Cas started loosening his tie, clearly giving up the struggle. “Heaven tried very hard to make me fall in line. Again and again. He took it off and Jack managed to shove more of his tiny fist into his mouth. “They would forcibly control those angels until they were obedient. I still don’t know how many memories were carved and discarded over my lifetime, but I’ve long been free from their persuasion.”

Claire shivered. A heavy silence fell over them. Eventually, she looked at Cas. “So we’re hiding from Heaven?”

“Yes.”

“What about….” Claire pointed at the baby. “His dad?”

Cas finally tore his gaze from Jack. One of his hands hugged him closer. “Imprisoned in Hell.”

“Good.”

Cas smiled. “Very good.”

Jack removed his fist from his mouth, wiping a trail of drool down his chin. He started babbling loudly.   Cas stood up, realizing what Jack wanted.

“Cas,” Claire’s quiet tone made him freeze in place. “What would happen if the other angels find Jack?”

Cas turned and stared at her. His eyes squinted as his head tilted like he wasn’t sure if he should answer truthfully. Cas’ grip tightened on Jack as he lightly bounced him.

Claire chewed at her bottom lip. “It wouldn’t be pretty, would it?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” He answered in an even tone. “Like I said before, angels aren’t supposed to…..Jack here, is considered an abomination by their standards. A child of his power has never lived this long. There’s no telling what he’s capable of.”

“Why are you risking everything?”

“Because Jack asked me.”

Claire’s gaze narrowed in confusion. But before she could say anything, Cas changed the subject.

“Come on.” He nodded his head towards the kitchen. “We have plenty of time to continue serious conversations later. I think you and Jack could go for some lunch.”

Claire nodded, and they both went into the kitchen. Cas put Jack in his highchair and fiddled with getting the bib on. For a moment he glanced at her.

“I wasn’t sure what you would want so I bought a variety of things. Just let me know what you want and I’ll make it.”

Chuckling, Claire made her way to the refrigerator. She blinked at the inside in confusion. The jars of baby food were expected, but everything else in there was premade and packaged. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas stood up straight; he finally got Jack’s bib securely on. The more Jack fussed, the more his wings were flailing in the metaphysical plane. That reminded him that he still didn’t have a solution for what he was going to do when Jack realized his wings did so much more than wiggle.

Claire closed the door and pointed with her thumb at the refrigerator. She was still mentally deciding on her lunch. “Why is there nothing but grocery store premade meals and juice boxes?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I know how to cook? Angels don’t need to eat.”

“I mean…” Claire had to fight back a smile. “You could try. It can be kinda fun.”

“Claire Novak, I don’t want to risk burning this house down. I happen to like this place very much.”

“So you have tried cooking before?”

“There’s little point in learning. As an angel I can’t taste food properly, and….Dean’s the one that does all the cooking.”

That was the final push Claire needed to burst into belly deep laughter. Jack watched her with widening eyes. Excited, he started banging the palms of his hands on the highchair tray.

Cas raised an eyebrow, feigning authority. “Now, can you please pick something out so I can get Jack’s lunch going?”

[l0chn3ss]

Finally

MaStar; All throughout their life, Black Star has always brushed Maka's bangs behind her ears. He goes from doing it out of necessity to want. AO3.

Written for Liz’s Birthday 2020 ily @happyisahabit

Maka was a teeny thing as a child, but Black Star guessed that all children started out small. He was merely a year older and an entire inch shorter than her, a fact that he was reminded of constantly whenever he visited his neighbor’s yard.

The only solace he had were her own words. She said, “My papa said boys get a growth squirt when they are older!”

He stared at her. “You mean ‘spurt’?”

“That is what I said. ‘Squirt,’” Maka’s four-year-old tongue betrayed her. She used her palm to brush her bangs from her eyes, indignant.

He helped her because his fingers were more developed and precise. After watching Maka’s mom for a while, he knew that Maka liked her hair tucked behind her ears.

She tried to shake him away, but stopped when her hair fell back, messy once again. She threw him a glare as if he were the sole cause.

“Stop moving, you baby,” Black Star said, taking a finger to push her long bangs aside. He moved the strands carefully to prove that he could, going slowly and deliberately to make sure that she knew.

This time, she allowed him because it needed to be done. Mama wasn’t around to do so for her, but Maka wasn’t pleased.

----------

They were older than before and Black Star had become well practiced in fixing Maka’s hair. Whether they were fingerpainting or pursuing other art projects, Maka’s sleek half-Asian hair never stayed perfectly in her pigtails. The colorful elastic bands always slipped from their place, away from her head. He liked to fling them away between his index and thumb into the grass where she couldn’t find them.

She insisted on having her hair cut just before they worked with play-doh. After all, Maka wanted to look her best when they played house— and by house, she meant domestic warfare. From her keen, eight-year-old hands, she sculpted excellent figures of a family by her standards, but the new length of her bangs made them hard to manage. With her fingers smelly from the clay, she refused to touch her dress nor her hair.

Black Star didn’t have the same reservations. He put down the little model sword that he was making for her… blob… and wiped his hands with the wet towelette that her mom trained her to keep around.

“Look here,” he commanded, leaving the previously folded cloth as a squeezed ball on the table where he found it.

Maka already knew what he wanted with her, because he assumed that he knew what she wanted. “No. There’s probably still play-doh under your nails.”

“I cleaned it.”

She glanced over. “Then why is there still blue under it?”

He ignored her and told her again. The second time, he sounded more whiny and impatient. “You know it’s bothering you.”

Sighing, Maka said, “It is, but I can fix my hair later.”

“Let’s just do it now.” Black Star already leaned over to handle a pigtail, knowing that she would allow it. “You’ll just get mad if you wait.”

Ultimately, Maka had to drop what she was working on and agree with him. She moved her head to face forward as muscle memory trained her to do, and she held onto the stool with both hands between her thighs, ensuring that she wouldn’t move during the fix-up. It rocked slightly since the legs were uneven with the kitchen floor, but Black Star didn’t notice the small clicking sounds it made.

Instead, he undid her band and tightened a loop closer to the back of her head rather than to the side as she liked it. He finished it off lower and by her neck, the position promising steadiness. After doing the other side in the same way, he pulled out two clips from the front pocket of his overalls in the shape of butterflies.

Seeing her protest, he explained, “Come on. You’ve been itching your forehead with your arm all day. You can’t have it behind your ears.”

Blunt ends of her hair would do that, but she tried a different approach. “You have the purple and yellow barrettes! Those are opposite colors. I don’t want to wear that.”

“Colors don’t have opposites, squirt.”

“If you remember from the Blue’s Clues computer game we used to play, you would remember that there are,” she scowled. “Purple and yellow make brown, and blue and red make purple so that leaves out yellow, which makes it—“

“Hold still,” Black Star said, parting her bangs in half and sliding the yellow of the pair in place. “Ok, other side.”

He moved onto her right side, only for her to swivel her neck to the other side, effectively showing the crown of her head. Black Star paced around to reach, but Maka moved again, making a small sound that resembled a “hmph.”

“It’s just going to get loose if you keep doing that.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but eventually admitted quietly, “It already did.”

Black Star laughed when she twirled around properly so he could see her. Lo and behold, the little butterfly did droop from its own weight down to her temple.

Promising, he said while he finished, “I’ll get better colors next time, Maks. You keep leaving these ones at my house, though.”

“The polka dot ones should still be in your room, I think.”

He bopped the back of her head to let her know that he was done and returned to his seat, glad that she didn’t notice the small blue clumps of clay in her hair.

----------

Maka’s hair curled where she kept it behind her ear, but the rest of it was straight and fine. It still grew tangled when the wind was too strong and hard to tame in the morning, but she only played with the ends by her shoulders when she was nervous. During PE class, she was flighty.

She picked stray strands that frizzed away, rubbing them between her fingers as she watched the other teams’ ten minute game. Her’s had a moment to rest before they faced off in the next rotation, but for some reason, she didn’t feel at ease, nor did her heart seem to settle its discomfort.

It was nerves, she decided as she watched Black Star’s group face off their opponents in handball. Any one would feel the same if they knew how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of his throws.

He was an awkward size. His neck was too long. His gym shirt reached below his waist. His feet were too small for the oversized shoes he had to wear before they were eventually too tight.

Middle school was not kind to tween boys, but neither was it for tween girls.

She was crossing her legs because of the darkened hair growing on her shins and hated the training bra that she had to wear despite not showing any signs of growth. In the locker room, she swears an eighth grader was showing off black lace under her shirt while rumors of a sixth grader wearing a thong spread like a virus.

Who knew what else they talked about in the boy’s room?

Though Black Star was a grade above hers, they had a joint seventh and eighth grade class during their PE period. It was fine to her— she could keep up with the best of them after all— but the girls were always hoping to get the attention of their counterparts, even his.

Boy-crazy, Maka rolled her eyes, sure that she wasn’t one of them.

The two classmates who sat beside her on the pavement giggled behind their hands. Maka listened in to their conversation as a fellow girl, but didn’t join their remarks about how each boy ‘scored’ on a one to ten scale. However, once they got to Star, Maka leaned in closer out of curiosity.

They judged him on his athletic abilities and how much hair gel he used compared to the other boys in his grade. Though he wasn’t going to win ‘Best Hair’ for the yearbook’s Hall of Fame, he had a running chance at winning ‘Class Clown.” He ran around with a catchphrase and got along with most people. By all accounts, even if he got a C in History and English, he was still a seven when most others were a six or five.

The girls asked Maka if she agreed, but she feigned disinterest and said that growing up around him had desensitized her. Not only that—he was still her height. But they were undeterred, attempting to convince her with a few other points that almost seemed like they had already previously thought their arguments.

Black Star was a team player, they said, but Maka countered that he liked being the best of the bunch. He does everything in his power to help people out, they said, but Maka referred to the times he made situations worse, not better.

Somewhere along the way, Maka agreed that she enjoyed his company somewhat, just as he approached and overheard just that one bit.

“You talkin’ ‘bout me, Maks?” he cocked his head to the side, foam ball tucked under his arm.

Maka heard a few giggles and was instantly irritated. The biases that those girls had were laughable themselves, but that wasn’t the issue; it was that Black Star was painfully oblivious to how annoying he was.

On the curve of his rounded cheeks, there was a developing lump of a pink pimple that rose when he smiled. Her eyes were drawn to it unwittingly— the pimple, not the smile.

“You wish,” she retorted, taking hold of his hand to help herself onto her feet. “We were just talking about how we’re going to crush your team.”

While she looked behind her as part of a girl code confirmation, the both of them gave each other a quick glance before dissolving back into teeters. Of course Maka would be the only female on their co-ed team who was interested in doing that, she realized belatedly.

Oblivious, as always, Black Star handed her the ball and announced that he had won their most recent victory. Her team would be just another one for the scoreboard.

Before she could turn away and ignite her competitive streak, he stopped her. He kindly said, “Your bangs are stuck to your sweat, squirt,” hand moving to correct it.

Fully aware of their audience and the shuffling of students on the blacktop, Maka stopped his hand from brushing back her hair, something she’d never done before. “I can do it myself.” And she did, walking away and ignoring the hurt he blatantly showed on his face.

Her team did not win the final round that day.

----------

On her graduation day, Black Star happily clapped as he watched Maka toss her cap into the air.

The summer evening was hot. He remembered his own being just as much. The orange and white robes were horrible school colors and trapped the heat under the folds. Even the stadium was devoid of a breeze, but the excitement of the graduates was unaffected.

Families began their way towards the center of the mass while a few kids separated away from their friends to push outwards. Sid texted Maka, ‘We’re going to the parking lot,” but Black Star knew that Maka wouldn’t see the message until she was cleared out by the security team.

Spirit cried into the flowers that he bought a day in advance; a few of the buds bloomed from the age while the rest did from the warmth. Mira patted him lightly on the shoulder and reminded him that they still had to take pictures, reaching into her fanny pack for a small bundle of tissues.

He blew his snot out loudly while Sid reminded Mira that she was equally a mess when Star graduated, too.

A good while after, Maka fumbled out with an array of ribbons and flower leis around her neck. It was clear she was looking for her decorated cap, but realized that it was forever lost like her bobby pins after prom. Upon seeing her family, Maka rushed with her arms open, uncharacteristically physically welcome, with her papa ready to meet her half way.

Black Star caught the flowers before they hit the ground, but Spirit paid no mind, crying all over again while Mira snapped pictures on her digital camera. Father and daughter stayed for a bit until Maka eventually pushed him away to hug the rest of her party, smiling widely with her family friends and eventually holding Black Star tightly around his middle.

“Congrats, squirt.”

He was finally taller than her. His chin rested easily on the top of her head, fitting nicely when she wanted to be close to him. They embraced long and soundly, rocking from side to side on their feet until Spirit blew his nose again.

Upon separating, Black Star handed Maka the flowers from Papa and joined the candy lei that previously hung from his arm with the rest of the celebratory gifts she had received throughout the night. Her sashes and tassels were drowned out by the weight. Even Sid gave her a lei decorated with carefully folded bills and kukui nuts.

“We have to recreate the picture we took last year!” Maka announced to Star, gesturing to Mira for help.

“First,” Mira said, “we need group photos.”

Sheepishly, Maka sobered down, hopeful for good shots to remember the day.

With her lowered energy, it gave Black Star the chance to really look at her. Maka wore her regalia proudly; the leis wrapped around her like a lion’s mane and made her look top heavy for once. She had her hair braided back to fit her now lost cap, and she was clearly sweating, not aware of it herself.

He absentmindedly reached to her head; the memory of doing so was dug too deeply for him to forget. He stopped just as she noticed, clenching his open hand into a fist to lower it, but Maka smiled and tilted her head towards him, familiarly. He hesitantly took a deep breath and continued slowly, just in case she changed her mind.

She didn’t.

He grazed her forehead with two fingers to tuck her sticky bangs behind her ear, clumsily but deliberately as though they were children. Maka was thankful for it, especially because she couldn’t reach her arms above her head due to her sleeves and her decor. She moved her head to the other side, naturally, wanting him to do the same again. Of course, Black Star relented, giving into the urge he had been fighting ever since he was still in school.

Sid broke the spell. “You look fine, Maks,” he assured. He held out his arm for a side hug while Spirit took his place on her left.

With her distracted, Black Star pulled out his last gift out of Mira’s tote bag that he had stowed away while everyone left the stadium. He had snuck into the center of the chaos while the other three left, following shortly after he claimed his prize. Because Maka had done it for him last year, he felt it was only right to return the favor.

Mira took the picture just at the right moment— when Star fitted Maka’s graduation cap on top of her head, complete with the tassel and all.

----------

Maka returned home for spring break. She was exhausted, half from her studies and half from her travel. Instead of properly setting up the futon in Star’s living room, she threw herself on top of the cushions in couch form, sighing deeply into the softness. There, she napped past her alarm and into the evening, not stirring when Star finally returned to his apartment after work.

Instead of going directly to college like many of their friends, he found employment in their local city. He never thought he’d be the type to like being stuck in one spot, close to where he grew up, but he took vacations and PTO often. Most of all, he visited Maka out of state and made sure that she always had a home away from home.

Black Star knew that she arrived close to noontime; he gave her permission to use the spare key that he mailed to her months ago when he moved in. What he didn’t expect was that her luggage was unpacked and laid as a tripping hazard at the front door. Seeing her head on the arm of the sofa, he wheeled in the suitcase into his room for her and took the chance to change into comfortable clothes.

Even after detouring to the bathroom, Maka was still fast asleep, comfortable and safe. She breathed heavily through her mouth, chest rising and falling, at peace. One hand rested on top of her stomach while the other hung from the edge of the couch, no doubt dropping after she turned off her alarm in her sleep.

She had a habit of doing that, Star remembered, amused. It was why she had to change the tune often and why keeping to a disciplined routine was important to her. In comparison, he had twelve alarms on his phone, each five minutes apart in order to slowly shake him awake. It drove her insane.

He decided to wake her up at six on the clock so they could grab dinner downtown. Easily, he touched her forehead and moved her bangs aside. He watched her movements carefully as she began to regain consciousness. Once she registered his face, she smiled and sat up slowly, yawning and rubbing her neck while she did.

“Fuck. You’re back already,” Maka said, voice cracked from sleep.

“It’s like six, Maks.”

“Welcome home.” She waved her hands quickly in place— jazz hands.

Star laughed, kneeling down at her level and propping his elbow on the cushion. His weight pressed down beside her. “You aren’t sleeping tonight with the nap you just had.”

“Keep me company, then. You’re good at all nighters.”

“I’ve gotten worse since you haven’t been around,” he admitted. Normally, Maka was rigid with her sleeping schedule. However when she was back, she spent as long as she could—every waking hour— at his side. “I did just have a full workday, so maybe you’ll just have to do it alone.”

She whined, “But, it’s tradition to stay up on the first night back!”

“Not if you cheated and snuck in an afternoon nap, squirt,” he grinned, resting his chin on his fist while she fell back against the armrest with a groan.

Maka had grown into her body just as Star had, and it was especially noticeable whenever they spent months apart at a time. When they reunited, sometimes, it was like he was looking at a whole new person— someone humbled and softened, challenged and forthcoming. Her clothes eventually changed to an adult look over the years, and she wore light makeup around her eyes.

There was a time when they fought bitterly over simple decisions, but later they learned to compromise and cherish. The days they could spend together were limited to stolen holidays because of Maka’s hectic schedule.

She was shy of twenty-three years old, already in grad school to earn her doctorate, while he wondered if he could keep up with her pace. He hoped he came across just a bit more mature in her eyes just the same.

Star began to play with her hair again, but along the way to the wisps, he spied just the smallest eyelash on her cheek. Using his thumb, he brushed it away, catching her attention.

He cleared his throat, continuing as though nothing had changed. “Let’s go, squirt,” he said. As he reached back to her bangs, she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

Maka sat up quickly, revealing she was fully awake in that moment. She looked pained, her eyebrows scrunched in the middle, and she asked, “Blake, when will you treat me as a woman?”

He exhaled carefully. Treading lightly, he said, “Is this about the time I said you were like one of the bros?” He chuckled, “There’s no need to call me ‘Blake’ just for that.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she squeezed just a bit tighter. “You can’t be this dense.”

“Maka, you sound like you’re asking me—“ He saw the reminiscence of himself in her face— of a time before he knew to hide his emotions. “—about somethin’ else.”

She softly questioned, “What if I am?”

Star didn’t know when the shift completely transitioned themselves into uncertain territory. Maybe it was her first summer back as an undergrad, or maybe it was when they attended Senior Ball as each others’ date. Or maybe, just maybe, it was before even then.

Maka repeated the question in her head, unsure of how different it would sound to him. “Blake, am I a woman to you? Someone who will make you act as a man?”

“You’ve always been a woman,” he said, not thinking of the meaning behind his words, just that he was sure of what he felt.

When Maka sat up on the couch, fingers loose on his wrist, she was taller than he was. She looked down at him while he looked up, both aware of the closing distance between them.

“Then treat me like one,” she whispered, hand slipping down his arm.

He caught it in his, threading them together, joining their palms. “Should I? Can I?”

“You may,” her lips parted, hovering over him.

Star rose to his knees to cup her face, hand brushing her hair back behind her ears as he pulled her effortlessly towards him, kissing her lightly as she melted deep into his hold.

----------

Her hands tightened around the bouquet and she struggled to place one foot over the other on the way to her place. If Papa hadn’t been there to steady her, she would’ve fallen from weak knees some time ago. Speaking of which, Maka looked over to him.

She expected him to be emotional and wrecked. Instead, he stood proud, strength on his face and in arms. He could truly withstand the winds so long as it was for her sake, and so on her wedding day, he remained her pillar.

He asked if she was ready, and if she were being honest, the answer was no. Adrenaline flooded her system and she could hardly hear the cues. It was Spirit who willed her forward on time, up until she turned the corner to see Blake.

From then on, Maka walked to him— for him. She matched Papa’s pace perfectly, but her tunnel vision focused on her fiancé, soon-to-be-husband. Without her arm looped around Papa’s, surely, she would have already made her way to the altar much too early.

But if anything, it looked like Star wanted to go to her. He was on his toes, face relaxed with wonder. She was the only thing he could see, just as she only saw him. And once she reached him, he thanked her papa quietly, eyes never leaving her.

They could hardly listen to the ordained minister’s speech that welcomed their guests, and even worse, they stuttered on their vows when it became time to recite them. Both were much too nervous, giggling and promising silently to reread them privately later on.

When they were asked to repeat the joining words, the minister joked that it wouldn’t be difficult. The crowd laughed, but all awaited anxiously.

First it was Star. He recited, “I, Blake Barrett, take thee, Maka “Squirt” Albarn, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

Then it was Maka. She recited, “I, Maka Albarn, take thee, Blake “Black Star” Barrett, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

And once they were done and the rings in their place, he swept the veil away from her face, just as he did with her bangs as children, and he kissed her, finally.

[umi-tama]

October 9th 2011

Luna left her little baby boy, whom I called Aphel, last night. After bopping around on the screen as a tiny black blob for a while, he evolved into Kuchitamatchi. Just like his mom he isn't exactly the most intellectual; at least the book his nanny gave him as a gift doesn't interest him at all :/ He absolutely loves his grandpa's toy rocket, though - more than his headphones (and therefor practicing) even *sigh* Unfortunatly, he is broke. He owns zero gotchi points; his mom took all her money with ther, when she left. She did send him stuff today, but only some sushi, no money. I don't know what she's thinking. I really don't <_<' Just because she left a filled fridge doesn't mean, that kiddo has everything he needs to grow up. I guess the poor little one has to work even harder now, so he can at least afford some decent food, when he's grown up. Here are his stats, when he went to sleep: 0 yr, 15 lb hungry ❤❤❤❤ happy ❤❤❤❤ stress: 03 tone: 193 rhythm: 286 original: 362 genre: Pop Music 

*

Aphel's little sister is called Yumi, because that's as close as I can possibly get to a female version of the name Yugi ;P 

Yup, she's a Hoshitchi. (Her little rainbow tail reminds me of Nyan Cat - that's why she has the little poptart kitty on her dress ^^) Different than her brother, she's leading a really comfortable life and has more than enough money. If only it was possible to transfer some of it from my Tama-Go to my Music Star :/ Anyways, here you have Yumi's stats after going to sleep: 0 yr, 87 lb (don't ask *lol*) hungry ❤❤❤❤O happy ❤❤❤❤O train [▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▫▫▫▫▫] friendship ❤❤❤❤❤❤ gotchi points: 964,920 

*

*

October 11th 2011

Luna finally sent her kiddo some money - 10,000 gp (considering her salary was 5,000,000 back then, this still isn't much, but whatever...). We immediatly stocked up on food, just in case. The Mocha costume was in the shop, but unfortunately costed 12,000, so we had to pass on this one :/ (we still got the Spot costume, that Luna purchased once, though). We also purchased a diet drink, that mysteriously ended up in the treasure instead of the food menu o_O When Aphel tried it, he got all angry *lol* I then played around with the time a bit, so the mail man would come more often. On his 2nd visit, he brought a gift from the Tamagotchi King: a shovel, that revealed a little happy sun, when we used it :) 3rd time: an envelope with poop :/ 4th time: a smoothie from the Gotchi King - Aphel liked that one a lot more than the diet drink ;P The rest of the day, after I stopped messing around with time, he just kept getting letters with little hearts or stars. And in the evening, he evolved into Kikitchi, the same teenager his grandpa was ^^ The next day, I once again forgot to pause him before going to work, so when I came back home, he had a fever. I cured him, cleaned away the poop piles, and then took him to school, where he got friends with a Chamametchi and a Ringotchi. They founded a band called Pizzacat (I would've loved to call them the Samurai Pizzacats, but argh, evil characters limit!) and had a couple of quite successful band practices ^^ I planned on taking a couple of photos, but my didn't have my phone handy, and when I got it, the battery was empty :/ And then he already went to sleep and I didn't want to wake him *sigh* And just now, in the middle of the night, he evolved again. Tarakotchi! Wow, didn't I have that character ever since the last time I ran my old P1 years and years ago o_o I plan on having Pizzacat have lots and lots of band practices, so maybe Aphel can marry one of his pretty bandmates ;P Right now, his stats look like this: 2 yr, 30 lb hungry ❤❤❤❤ happy ❤❤❤❤ stress: 00 tone: 314 rhythm: 390 original: 606 genre: Hip-Hop Music 

*

Yumi evolved into Shelltchi yesterday and just now, in her sleep, she became a Lovelytchi ^^ We got pretty good in Shoot The Bug by now, usually winning 1,000gp each time we play, and Yumi made a couple of friends on the playground in the park. She doesn't have a lot of contact to her brother, though. They only see each other for a game of bowling once in a week or so. I'll try to take some pictures of the both of them tomorrow and maybe draw sth, too ^^ Anyways, here you have Yumi's current stats: 0 yr, 76 lb (I had her at 99 two days ago... dunno what to think about the age counter being stuck at zero :/) hungry ❤❤❤❤O happy ❤❤❤❤O train [▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪] friendship ❤❤❤❤❤❤ gotchi points: 970,420

[theramseyloft]

Dammit tumblr. The kids (younger than 6 months old)

Betty is a bit stand-offish, but knows his name and trusts me enough to come for treats.

Here is how he reacts to me reaching for his shiny new baby.

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A post shared by Danielle Ramsey (@theramseyloft) on Nov 5, 2019 at 11:03am PST

Relaxed and confident. Doesn’t try to sit tighter or fight me off, just lets me take it and waits for me to put it back.

Rigby will come sit with me regardless of whether or not there are treats currently on offer.

Right now, she’s getting cozy with Jet and has less time for me. XD

Tandy doesn’t really come for treats anymore. I think she came to hate the crowd and got tired of being told she was rude. XD

She sits with me every time I sit down, though, and it pretty happy to get cuddle time and be preened while she preens me.

PJ is really starting to feel his cockishness!

He’ll come check on me and dance in front of me, and knock other birds out of his way for treats.

But he’s not really one to sit with me.

Not sure if you were interested in adding Luxotica, since she didn’t hatch here?

But she’s getting used to the routine enough to be at least slightly less a cryptid.

Escher mostly does her own thing.

She’s curious and clever, and wants to be kinda everywhere at once.

She and PJ are kiiind of a thing? Like the pigeon version of a highschool crush.

He follows her everywhere, and if he’s on or near me, it’s usually because Escher wanted to check for treats or chill with me.

Vynni is very much a young man. 

He likes to cuddle and be preened, but he’d rather we do that from his swing than he come to me.

It think it’s less that he likes me less than that he is just hell bent on guarding his swing!

Bop... Has been out for a month, and it’s been three weeks since his last confirmed sighting.

Pippin! 

Still Best Boy. ^v^

So full of love me and fite me!

Just an utter delight to work with.

Panther probably doesn’t count either, since he’s not a keeper, but he’s getting very slowly less spook-y...

At least until meds need to happen.

Can’t really blame him for that, though. The worm meds syringe has to be forced down his throat to avoid injecting them into his trachea by accident.

That would feel like torture to me too!

Lilly is quickly becoming a favorite.

Speaks her mind VERY loudly! Allows absolutely NO ONE to bully or push her around.

(Should have named her Lolli, since she’s all of 10 weeks old and constantly hitting on her own dad, who is more into her than any other hen in the loft [because she looks exactly like her mom, whom he dearly misses])

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She is Vynni’s primary rival for the swing.

Ellie is the most stand-offish of our current babies.

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A post shared by Danielle Ramsey (@theramseyloft) on Nov 5, 2019 at 10:53am PST

The adults have pretty much taught her that they’ll dog pile her every time she gets near me, so she just... doesn’t. 

If it isn’t treat time, and there is a very light crowd, she may get on my knee and sit with me for a bit, but she does NOT want me to come to her!

Gus took EIGHT weeks to stop holding out so hard for me to give him specifically treats (not his regular food, yuck!) for so long and with such determination that he’d be pooping foam at the end of the work day.

This clingy little poot is the ENTIRE reason I can’t do treat time for younger babies in the loft right now!

Now that he’s finally been broken of that and will go feed himself when he’s hungry, he’s a fantastic little cuddle bug.

Spirit is going out either this afternoon or next week, depending on how soon his new family get back to me.

What a joy this little man has been! I’m really going to miss him, but he’ll make his new family SO happy!

He’s a fun, performative little cuddle bug who wants to go explore everything, and then come back to snuggle and recharge for his next exploration session. ^v^

Radish will be going home to @birdgeppetto in two and a half more weeks.

Her parents are still keeping her well pumped, but she associates my lap with treats and cuddles, so if I’m sitting down, she’s usually fighting with Gus over her spot in it (which she believes is against my tummy, with my arm around her.)

She is REALLY excited for treats, but bad at taking them individually. She is decent enough at pecking them from my palm, though.

Fortunately for me, her parents both come call her off my lap for feeding when she gets really insistent and starts slapping hard enough for them to hear her.

Samhain is too little to display much personality yet. XD

Most start expressing their opinions on things when they are a little more mobile.

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Thus far, Sami is very mellow and doesn’t complain or beg when she’s petted or maneuvered.

She JUST started showing a feed me response to her beak tip being touched by my fingertips today.

SS2-2 is a peepy puddle of pudge.

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A post shared by Danielle Ramsey (@theramseyloft) on Nov 5, 2019 at 11:01am PST

They’re usually pumped a little more full than Sami, and have a VERY strong food response.

I expect this will make them especially easy to treat prime and train.

BH1-1 is already a hilarious blob, as seen in the video showing his Father’s response to me picking him up.

Nothing seems to phase him at this point. 

Hands are soft and nice, and he likes them, even though being brooded is much more warm.

[dinfeanoriel]

Missing Legend Pt. IV

Linked Universe belongs to Jojo56830 and Linked Universe!  Part IV of my Missing Legend series! Coming close to the end...maybe. 

Please enjoy! And remember, I own nothing but my writing. 

~~~~~~~

“Another fruitless day spent searching vainly and we find nothing!” Warrior threw down his pack and sword in frustration, cerulean eyes swirling with worry and disheartment. The Knight slumped down onto a log, dropping his head into his hands. His hair fell from their once pristine placement and curtained his face from view, “Nothing,” He echoed in a quiet whisper. 

Wind looked even more downtrodden and miserable as the days passed, slowly morphing into a week since Legend’s vanishing. There was a sadness and fear in his expressive and once bright eyes that didn’t belong there. The young sailor dragged his feet to where Warrior sat, lowering himself to the ground and curling up against the older Hero. 

Warrior heaved a sigh and tried to gather himself together for Wind’s sake, but it was getting harder for him to stay calm and collected. They’d been searching for six days and hadn’t found a single thing! Nothing to tell them whether or not Legend was okay or if he were alive. 

The shred of hope he’d been clinging to was slowly dwindling. He shook his head, banishing his thoughts and wrapped an arm around Wind, drawing him close. 

Four sat across from them, face devoid of any emotion other than the faint crease between his brows as they drew together. His back was bent, hands dangling from his knees as his troubled and blank stare bored into the flickering campfire. He’d been struggling to remain optimistic. With each new day, he’d tried to believe they would find Legend...only for their search to end in failure. 

Sky was beginning to look discouraged. He’d already set up his bedroll and rolled onto his side so his back now faced everyone. It was disconcerting to see the change that gradually crept over him. He was a soft-spoken, kindhearted, and pleasant soul who was never without a content smile on his lips and a warm gleam in his eyes. 

Until now. 

Hyrule had gone silent. He was ordinarily a quiet person, but never this quiet. Legend’s disappearance had affected him greatly. He’d fallen deep into himself and could be found sitting at the base of a crooked tree. One knee was bent with an arm draped across it and his head was bowed. The fire cast an ambient orange-red glow on his shadowed form, accentuating the melancholy and gloominess evident in his features, and enshrouding the rest in shadow. 

Twilight was on a log adjacent to Time, back turned on the camp and face forward. Every night, he could be found watching the forest, as if he expected Legend to come waltzing out from within. They knew he wouldn’t, but they sometimes foolishly hoped he would. The Ordonian’s expression was grim, lips pursed tightly together. He was a man of few words, but lately, he’d become a man of no words. He still spoke when necessary, but that was only when giving commands or leading expeditions. Nothing more. At night, he became still and silent. 

Time’s expression was more grave than usual. He didn’t want to say it aloud, although he knew all Heroes were thinking it, but six days and no sign of Legend? This bode ill. It implied a darker and more sinister fate for their friend. Time latched onto the sliver of hope that this wasn’t so. That Legend wasn’t dead. His heart constantly warred with his reasonable mind. The conflict within him was expressed in all other Links. The Leader had his hands folded underneath his chin, elbows digging into his knees as he stared off into the distance. 

Hylia, if Legend yet lives, please...lead us to him...

Wild was grimly cooking something over the fire. He hardly made a sound. He had an arm wrapped tightly around Skittles, taking comfort from the bunny. He stared, unseeing, into the boiling pot, mind far away and heart heavy. He’d never thought he would miss Legend’s sarcasm and wit. His quick comebacks and snarks. 

But he did. 

Everyone did. 

They would give anything to hear his voice again! 

He heaved a silent sigh, turning to fetch his pack. He needed more spice for the meal he had planned. Wild flicked open the flap and dug throughout the pack precariously balanced on the log next to him. The contents within the bag shifted and became heavier in the front, causing the pack to become overbalanced and spill all over the ground. 

The sound startled all of the Heroes from their thoughts and they looked to see Wild muttering and hurriedly grabbing the rolling bottles and runaway herbs. 

From deep within the pack, an orb tumbled forth. All eyes were drawn to it when it flared up in the firelight. 

“What is that?” Wind couldn’t help but ask when it rolled and bounced off Time’s boot. The elder Hero picked it up and pinched it between two fingers. 

Wild shrugged, “Not sure. Sky and I found it when we were looking for Legend.” 

Four blinked in shock and shot upright in disbelief, “It’s a Moon Pearl!” 

Time and the other Links turned to him, curious. No one saw the way Skittles had frozen and how his gaze was riveted to the Pearl in shock and dismay. 

“Moon Pearl?” Time repeated in question. 

“What’s a Moon Pearl?” Warrior asked. 

Four paused, lips sealing shut. This only served to intrigue the Heroes. The smaller Link considered for a moment then slowly replied, 

“They’re...They’re rare gems. Special, but incredibly rare.” 

Time’s eye narrowed. Four was keeping something from them. 

“And what do these gems do?” He pressed. 

Four shrugged, “On my adventure, they helped me find where I needed to go.” Another vague response. 

Time frowned but didn’t ask for more clarification, for which Four was grateful. 

“I’m surprised you even found one.” He remarked to Wild and Sky, “I didn’t think they existed here.” And his gaze drifted to the still Skittles in Wild’s arms. He followed the rabbit’s line of sight to the Pearl then back...

And that was when it hit him. It took sheer willpower not to react or jolt in surprise, but the unimaginable wave of relief that flooded over him freed him from the clutches of fear and worry. 

He barely heard Wild’s reply. 

Green! 

I know, Red. 

He was with us all along?! 

Vio was definitely rolling his eyes at Blue’s enraged outburst. 

Wild noted the intensity in which Time was studying the Moon Pearl. He turned it this way and that, appraising it very much the same way Wild had when he first discovered it. 

“You can keep it if you want,” He said to Time, “I don’t really have any use for it.” 

Time hummed. He didn’t know why, but he felt a great need to hold onto it, “I think I will...” 

Skittles all but deflated when Time tucked it into his pack. 

~~~~~~~

That night, the Heroes fell into another uneasy sleep. Skittles remained wide awake, however. His eyes would often wander over to where Time was and to the pack next to him, but he didn’t dare go for it. He couldn’t risk it. 

Not while there were eight Heroes surrounding him. 

Why, oh, why couldn’t anything be easy for once? 

He gave as best a sigh he could given his form. This night, Skittles had chosen to stick close to Hyrule. Due to his animal senses, Skittles could feel the conflicting and overwhelming emotions Hyrule kept bottled within. He hoped his presence might serve to lessen it. Sometime during the night, Hyrule had grabbed hold of him, and so he was now cradled against his chest, fingers digging into his fur. 

Twilight was on watch. 

Or, he had been. He’d vanished into the forest and never returned. 

Wolfie appeared and sat in the exact spot Twilight had been in, keen blue eyes watching the shadows. 

Skittles could have rolled his eyes if the atmosphere had been any lighter. It was heavy with foreboding and sorrow. Worry and fear. Multiple bungled emotions and conflicted thoughts that it threatened to suffocate the poor animal. 

He couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty. 

A couple of hours passed when a whimper broke the heavy silence. Skittles picked his head up off Hyrule’s arm and looked to see Wind shifting in his bedroll. He tossed and turned, brow creased, and face twisted in pain, grief, and agony. 

Wolfie rumbled low in his throat, lifting himself from his crouched position but Skittles stopped him, 

“Wait!” 

Wolfie started in surprise, head whipping in Skittles direction as the rabbit freed himself from Hyrule’s hold and quietly hopped across. 

This was the first time Skittles had actually spoken to him! Wolfie could not overcome his shock. 

Wind whimpered again and when the animals looked, their sensitive hearts ached to see the tears slipping down his cheeks. The sailor freed his hand from his blankets, stretching as if reaching out to someone. 

“Legend...” 

Guilt slammed into Skittles like a sledgehammer. He needed to fix this. And he needed to fix it soon. But how? If Legend came back and Skittles disappeared...they’d be devastated. But if Skittles remained and Legend never appeared...

He was conflicted. The rabbit shoved his personal feelings on the matter back and hopped to Wind’s side. He gently pawed at the youngest Hero’s cheek, urging him to wake. 

“No...Please...” Wind’s breath hitched and a strangled sob broke from him. It physically pained Skittles to hear. “Legend..!” 

Skittles planted both paws on Wind’s creased cheek, batting and pushing. Wind still did not wake, and so, Skittles decided he needed to go to the extreme. He hunched back onto his heels, prepping himself, and jumped. 

He landed right on Wind’s chest, startling the Hero awake. Wind bolted upright with a small cry of, 

“Legend!”  

His chest heaved as gasping sobs shook his shoulders. Wind’s eyes, blurred by tears, flicked down to see a pink blob in his lap. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes and sniffed. 

“Skittles...” he hoarsely whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around the rabbit and crushing him to his chest. “Thanks f-for waking m-me...” He sniffled again, glancing up momentarily when Wolfie materialized at his side and sat down. “Sorry...” He apologized, earning a bop on his nose from Skittles and a nudge from Wolfie’s snout. He grinned weakly. The gesture withered immediately afterward. “I had...I had such a horrible nightmare.” He told them, rubbing at his face. 

“Legend was dying...and he was all alone...” A choked sound erupted from Wind and he buried his face into Skittles’s fur. “Th-there was n-no one with h-him...It was so dark...And I could see him. I c-could hear him...But h-he couldn’t h-hear me...” Wind muffled his cries, missing the sad look entering Wolfie’s eyes. The great beast nosed Wind’s cheek. He rumbled softly. 

Wind lifted his head and furiously wiped at his eyes. 

“I’m just...I’m just scared. What if...What if we don’t find Legend? What if...What if he is dead?” He hiccuped. “Or...what if we change worlds and Legend’s trapped here?” 

It was the unspoken fear among the Heroes, and Wind had finally voiced it aloud. 

Wolfie growled comfortingly. 

That won’t happen. 

Skittles pawed at Wind’s tear-stained face in reassurance. 

All this pain, fear, and sadness. The worry, stress, and frustration. 

He’d done this. 

He’d watched the change that overcame each Hero with every passing day. He’d sensed their emotions, their feelings, and heard some of them during the night. 

And now, Wind was having night terrors of his worst fears coming true. 

Wind managed a weak smile, exhaling shakily. 

“I hope we find him...” He looked to Skittles and Wolfie, “Do you think we will?” 

Both animals dipped their heads with a certainty. 

Wind was comforted. He started to recline back when Wolfie swiftly moved behind him so the boy was resting against him. Wind was grateful. The wolf’s presence helped to soothe him and his troubled heart and mind greatly. He nestled against the great beast, curling around Skittles. 

“Thanks, Wolfie...” He whispered with a yawn. He peered down at Skittles sleepily, “You’ll stay with me tonight, Skittles..?” 

Skittled clucked in affirmative and made himself comfortable. 

And so, with his two animal friends close by, Wind was able to drift off into a sleep undisturbed by nightmares for the rest of the night. 

Wolfie sighed and pillowed his head on his paws. 

Will we find Legend..? He expelled a deep breath. 

You will. Skittles quietly answered. The response made Wolfie glance back at him in faint surprise.

That’s twice now that you’ve spoken. He inclined his head, studying the rabbit. Skittles bristled, pointedly looking away from him. 

Don’t get used to it. 

Wolfie snorted quietly. 

Thank you. 

Skittles huffed and settled down for the night. 

You’re welcome.

~~~~~~~

The dawn came much too early for Skittles liking. He stirred when he heard a faint rustling sound and blearily looked to see who had dared to disturb his rest. The glare mingled with his weariness would have been amusing if anyone had been awake to see it. 

Wolfie was carefully trying to slip himself from underneath Wind, trying not to jostle the slumbering boy. 

What are you doing? Skittles griped, voice heavy laden with sleep. 

Wolfie paused, blinked, then faced him. 

Moving. 

And we’re sleeping, so if you don’t mind, move later. 

I can’t. 

Skittles growled, fixing the stupid wolf with a fierce glower, And why ever not? 

Wolfie rolled his eyes. 

Because, I was supposed to be on watch. And I need to make my rounds. 

Skittles released a world-weary sigh, waving a paw at the wolf. 

Fine, go. It’s your fault I’m awake now. 

Wolfie finally managed to free himself with Skittles help. The bunny had gently lowered Wind’s head to the ground, bundling up a blanket and slipping it beneath the Hero so he wasn’t resting on the cold, hard, ground. 

For all your grumpiness and griping, you truly are a kind and caring friend. 

Skittles grumbled. 

Not many would agree with you. Boy, his voice sure sounded warped when in animal-form. He was thankful for it, however. Now, off with you, mutt. He waved Wolfie away. 

Mutt?! 

Skittles expected Wolfie to leave and complete his rounds before everyone would awaken. He expected the wolf to trot away and check to ensure there were no monsters anywhere near camp. 

What he hadn’t expected, was for the great beast to suddenly transform. 

Into a Hylian. 

A very familiar Hylian. 

Poor Skittles was so taken aback by shock and disbelief from the unexpectedness of it all that he fell off his perch on a rock and crashed painfully onto the soil below. Twilight quickly leaped forward and snatched the unfortunate and stunned rabbit off the unforgiving ground. 

“Sorry, Skittles,” Twilight apologized, drawing the rabbit up so they were looking eye-to-eye, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Oh, he’d made a grave mistake. And Skittles would ensure he paid for it. 

The Hero gave a startled and pained cry when Skittles recovered himself enough to punch his eye with a strength no rabbit should have. 

The slumbering Heroes littered about camp jolted awake at the sound, some instinctively whipping out their swords or reaching for their weapons. 

“What? What is it?” Warrior demanded, leaping to his feet in a split second. He had remarkable response time. They supposed it was to be expected. 

Wild whipped his head round to look at Twilight in worry. “What’s wrong, Twi?” He demanded, scrambling to his feet. He gave pause when he saw a crumpled Skittles lying at Twilight’s feet and said Hylian rubbing at his throbbing eye with a scowl. 

“Twilight?” Came Time’s calm voice. Four brushed his hair back from his face, settling back when he realized there were no monsters to be found or any other danger to be seen. Wind was sitting upright in his bedroll, confused and still a little drowsy. 

Sky lowered his Master Sword and frowned curiously at the Ordonian who was muttering darkly under his breath. Skittles quickly gathered himself together and stood, clucking and growling fiercely at the Hylian. He even shook his paws as he practically chewed him out. 

The sight was quite comical. 

Hyrule blinked, quirking an eyebrow at the furious rabbit. His fur stood on end as the bunny bristled and continued on with his rant. 

How he wished they could understand what he was saying. 

“Your precious Skittles punched my eye, Wild,” Twilight growled, covering the right side of his pinched face. He kept his eye shut. That rabbit sure hadn’t shown him any mercy. 

Wild promptly fixed him with a look, “You must have done something to deserve it.” 

Twilight sputtered. The betrayal! 

Time chuckled to himself while the other Heroes snickered. Wild wandered over and picked up the still fuming rabbit into his arms. He smoothed the fur along his back and pat his head a couple of times. 

“There, there, Skittles,” The Hero soothed. The rabbit kept his dark glare fixed on Twilight, growling menacingly. The look rivaled that of Time’s disapproving eye! 

“Wow, Twi, whatever did you do?” Warrior curiously asked when Skittles turned his head away and hooked his chin solidly on Wild’s shoulder, glowering. 

“You’ve made him maaaad!” Wind sang with a giggle. 

Twilight made to answer, the words on the tip of his tongue but he quickly caught himself. Clearing his throat and flashing Skittles a look of his own, he groused, “I may or may not have stepped on his tail.” 

Skittles whipped around in Wild’s hold, a terrifying and deep growl tearing from him as he bit at Twilight. It was easy to tell what he was saying this time, 

I will never forgive you! 

“Note to self,” They heard Sky murmuring, “Never get on Skittles’ bad side.” 

[tiredleekaz]

Heat Warmer

Here’s a story that’s not an angsty piece of crap! Well— it’s still crap cause when is my writing not 😆.

I kinda just thought of it a few days ago when I was in musical theater without a sweater cause my friend stole my hoodie and I was cold. So basically, my friends always tell me I’m like a human radiator when I give hugs, so when they’re cold they always ask for some huggles.

(also can i just say... jamming to “underneath the tree” 40 days before christmas because it’s a mood and a bop)

Tags: fluff, ticklez

Word Count: 1,715

Summary: It was a cold autumn day and the perfect time to stay inside and be warm. Jason was coming to AJ’s house for some heat as his apartment unfortunately had a broken radiator. Not only was he gonna be nice and toasty, he’s gonna find out a special surprise that AJ’s been hiding from him.

__________________________________________

*ding*

*ding*

*ding*

“Jeez! Alright! Shut up will you!” A short brunette seethed as he swung open his door, glaring into a pair of stormy grey eyes.

“You’re too slow. I could have gotten frostbite!” The male at the door exclaimed, stepping inside like he owned the place.

Rolling his eyes, AJ closed the door with a click, brushing past the taller blonde without a thought. “In only 30° weather?”

“It could happen!” Jason argued as he took off his coat, a long sleeved underneath, and hung it up on the coat rack.

AJ shook his head at his friend’s exaggerations and slid his way over to the couch. He lived with his family, though they were currently gone for the weekend visiting their grandparents. As much as he loved his family, he did not want to join them this time and was lucky to have the entire house to himself. The living room was recorded with a fall aesthetic: reds, oranges, yellow; leaves and autumn-like decor were strewn about the large room.

The beautifully styled fireplace was lit and burning a bright red orange. AJ had already made himself comfortable on the plush sofa by the time Jason finished taking off his outerwear and shoes. The boy adorned a cream, cotton, sweater with grey sweatpants, along with black and white striped, fuzzy, long socks. A soft blanket was wrapped around himself as he leaned back against one of the armrests. Jason smiled at the smaller boy all cozy and warm on the couch. Without warning, he jumped on top of him, squishing the living daylights out of the poor bean.

“wuGh! Get off me you heavy mutt!” AJ wheezed, trying to wiggle out of under the other.

Jason shook his head. He pouted like a puppy would to its owner when not given enough attention, laying his chin on AJ’s chest. His arms wrapped around AJ’s torso, trapping his arms as well to prevent him from escaping.

“I don’t wanna. You’re so warm,” he whined, squeezing AJ like a doll.

The brunette sighed and stared at the white ceiling with a deadpan expression, though honestly he didn’t really care he was stuck in this position. Jason was always the type to be cuddly and touchy, so he was pretty used to it. Jason sighed content lay as he nuzzled his face into the soft fabric.

AJ inhaled and exhaled deeply, starting to get more comfortable with Jason’s lying on him. Just as he was about to doze off, he felt a sudden sensation of coldness under his sweater. A sharp gasp slipped out from his lips as he attempted to lurch away from the cold. His arms squeezed down as much as they could from their held position.

Jason looked up from burying his face into AJ’s chest, a look of confusion spread across. “What.. was that?”

“... what was what?” AJ asked back hesitantly.

The blonde stared at AJ before giving a squeeze along his sides.

“AcK! StOhp!” The brunette squealed without warning, a forced smile on his face.

“No way,” Jason said with a widening grin. “You’re ticklish?”

A wave of heat flushed over AJ’s body, especially in his face as he refused to meet Jason’s eyes that were glowing with amusement. Another pinch was applied to his hips and he tried to twist to the side with a squeak.

“Noho! Plehease don’t!”

Jason’s fingers continued their research by scribbling against AJ’s sensitive skin, gently digging and squeezing along his sides and hips like he was squeaky dog toy. His lips were curved into a smirk as he stared at the blushing and giggling boy in his arms. The sight was honestly the most adorable thing he has ever seen. Even more than when he first saw AJ smile.

“Oh wow, who knew my little toy was so squeaky ~,” Jason cooed.

Curling his fingers, he scratched at the shallow hollows resulting into shriek and bubbly chortles to fall out from the shaking body that was AJ. He tried desperately to turn and wiggle away, but Jason was far stronger than him. Not to mention the the tickling was sapping his energy away. His hips bucked and his legs kicked pathetically while he was attempting to hide his flushing face into the cushions of the couch.

“NOhOHOHahAHAHAh!! noHOo mohOHOHOreHEHEe!!” AJ cried out through his hysterical laughter.

“More? Well if you insist,” Jason chuckled, moving his hands down to AJ’s tender sides while pushing the sweater up his torso.

AJ nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt squeezes on his sides and screeched when Jason decided to blow a raspberry on his tummy. A few tears of mirth glazed over his eyes as he shook his head.

Jason decided to give the smaller boy mercy and released his grip around him. He continued to lay on AJ, feeling his head rise and lower with AJ’s heaving tummy. They lay like that for a couple of minutes until AJ finally regained his breath.

“You suck...” AJ muttered, his voice a little raspy.

“Nah. You love me,” Jason teased, reaching up to pinch AJ’s cheeks.

A rosy red color filled the latter’s face as he frowned and shoved Jason off him, watching his body roll onto the floor. He snorted at the boy’s hilarious landing, curling up and hugging his sore middle.

“You think that’s funny, aye?” Jason groaned, pulling himself up from the other end of the sofa. “I’ll give you something to really laugh about.”

Only a millisecond later, AJ was off the couch and sprinting out of the living room. He sock clad feet pounded against the wooden floors as he ran through different hallways and up the stairs. His breathing was heavy, but despite the racing of his heart, a smile grew on his face along with the glimmering excitement in his eyes. AJ squeezes himself in a corner down a hall hoping to throw Jason off track. Unfortunately his plan did not work.

“Come out, come out wherever you are my little warmer,” Jason’s voice called out. “My hands are getting awfully cold. I promise I won’t do anything bad. Maybe stick them between your arms and sides... keep them nice... and... toasty.”

His footsteps seemed to get quieter with each word, though his voice was doing the exact opposite. AJ held his breath, thinking it’ll help him hide better. He couldn’t see where Jason was but he hoped he was nowhere close to figuring out his hiding spot.

Too bad luck wasn’t on his side. Without warning, he was grabbed and picked up, his arms up in the air as Jason’s hands were underneath them. He almost looked like a cat being handled. AJ squeaked like a mouse in surprise and tried to curl up in a ball in the air, though finding it very difficult to hold himself in that position.

The hands under his arms didn’t do anything but hold him, but even then he could feel the ghostly tickles digging into them. Giggles started to flow out like a waterfall, his eyes squeezed shut as if it would make the tickles go away.

“What’s so funny? I’m freezing here and you’re laughing at me. Tsk, tsk,” Jason clicked his tongue with a smirk. “At least my personal warmer can’t get anyway now.”

Before AJ could try to struggle out of the other’s grip, he was slung over Jason’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His legs kicked uselessly and his wiggling was making him very tired. Eventually he just slumped down and allowed Jason to take away.

They made it into AJ’s bedroom, beautifully aestheticized just as the rest of the house. He was thrown onto his queen sized bed and immediately pinned by Jason’s legs. His body was practically sinking into the pillows and covers he had on the bed because he was just a sucker for comfy, soft things.

Jason pushed AJ’s sweater up his ribs, exposing his ticklish skin, a teasing smirk danced across his face. He didn’t hesitate to dig into the smaller boy’s underarms, grinning widely at the loud squeal he received and cackles followed after. AJ presses his arms against his sides and tried to curl up but his legs were being sat on and this only helped Jason to attack his hairless armpits even more.

“NOhoHoAHAHAAH!!” The brunette shrieked with giggly hiccups.

“Yessss~,” Jason replied back with a smile. “My hands are warming up so fast. I don’t think I ever wanna remove them.”

AJ let out a snort in response and shook his head desperately wanting the tickles to stop, but the same time, somewhat enjoyed the affection. “GEHEHEEHT OHOHOUT!! HHEHheh iHiHi CahHaahn’t!!”

Jason happily obliged to the boy’s request and easily slipped his hands out from under his arms and down to his hips. This caused AJ to screech at the nonstop squeezing and pinch on his hip bones, bucking like a bull when Jason drilled his thumbs into the sensitive spots. He threw his head back with a scream at the sudden raspberry blown on his tummy, his voice losing its sound as the evil blonde evil switched from raspberries to gently nibbling along his sides and ribs.

“PLHEHEHEHAHAHSE!! STHAHAAHPP!! AHAHAHAHAHA TAHAHA TOHOHO MUHUCH!!!” AJ cried hysterically, tears streaming down his face as he weakly shook his head side to side. His body was just a pile of mush by now, having no energy to fight back or even try to.

Jason toned down his attack, but continue with the moderate and soft tickles for a few more minutes until he was satisfied. By then, AJ was embarrassed and a red faced giggly blob. He still giggles after the tickles stopped and even flinched slightly at the hands on his sides that were no longer tickling him.

With a voice as hoarse as having a frog in one’s throat, the male spoke. “I hate you...so much.”

His friend merely laughed and gently ran his fingers through the brunette’s fluffy hair, soothing him like a puppy. “Sure, sure. You say that, but you loved it and you love me.”

AJ couldn’t even swat at the hand petting him. He found the gesture relaxing and was growing drowsy from losing so much energy. Though that didn’t stop the peach blush dusting over his cheeks and nose.

“Shut up...”

The rest of the day they cuddle snuggled on the bed, enjoying each other’s warmth and embrace without question.

[mydarlingvioletine]

Just a Puppy Crush - Chapter 8

Ship(s): Clementine/Violet Media: The Walking Dead Game (Season 4)

Clementine set up Brody and Louis in the guest room just beside her own room. Louis had plopped himself down onto a big, comfy chair. The kind Violet definitely recognized from her grandparents house. The one with the lever on the side where you could flatten it out, and kick up the footrest.

        Brody turned down Louis’ attempts to cuddle, and threw herself down on the couch, curling up like a cat. Knees nuzzled up to her chin, she only took up one cushion.

It was a really cute habit that completely threw Violet off guard the first time they had a sleepover.

         Violet unrolled her sleeping bag, and went to set it on the ground when Clementine stopped her, frowning.

“I’m not letting you on the floor, Vi.” Clem insisted, swiftly pulling the clumsy blonde behind her, into her room. Clementine knelt down, and pulled the covers back from her bed. “You take my bed, I’ll take the chair.”

       Violet’s gaze landed on the corner chair, stiff and uncomfortably vertical. Her back ached just at the sight of it. “It doesn’t.. look very comfortable.”

Clem nodded, shyly ducking her head as she attempted to sprawl herself out on the chair, bending herself uncomfortably. “It’s Lee’s old crossword puzzle chair.. We brought it all the way from Montana just for Carley to buy him a brand new one. We’ve been keeping it because James said he’d take it in his new apartment.”

       “I’m not letting you sleep on that thing. Scooch over, I’ll sleep here.” Violet attempted to lug her away from the chair, but Clementine was solid, eyes glinted with amusement as Violet tried and failed to lift her up.

“Your spine’s already at a 70 degree angle. No way I’m pushing you over the edge.” Clem teased, causing Violet to straighten her posture involuntarily.

           “Is not!”

“Is too. I’m the daughter of a math teacher, I know my shit.” Clementine giggled, happily staring up at a pouting Violet.

      Violet rolled her eyes, defiantly crossing her arms across her chest. “Clem, I’d feel really fucking bad if you had to sleep there. Take the bed.”

Clementine’s phone buzzed noisily against her dresser, and she picked it up.

            New Message from Beautiful Best Friend.

       When the fuck did Louis have time to change his name across her phone? Sneaky bastard.

          [BBF] Cut the bullshit and share the damn bed.

Clementine rolled her eyes, hearing the muffled giggles from the other side of the thin walls. Vi cocked her head at the laughter, oblivious.

       “How about this?” Clementine proposed, rising to her feet. “We both sleep on my bed and nobody has to suffer at the hands of this chair. Or should I say.. the arms of this chair.”

Violet couldn’t hold back a little snort laugh at the joke, one that sent Clem’s heart to her throat.

       “Yeah, okay,” Violet feigned an attitude like she was being held against her will, trying to hide her nervous excitement from sharing a bed with Clementine. “You’re not a blanket hogger, are you? Louis always pulls that shit.”

Clem shook her head, a careful grin on her face as she tucked herself under the covers, back against the wall. “I guess you’ll find out.”

         Violet groaned, tugging the knitted blanket Brody had made for Clem close to her. After turning to her side and attempting to make herself comfortable, she sat up abruptly.

“You okay?” Clementine asked, a yawn straining her husky voice.

      “Just not really used to sleeping like this, I guess.” Violet admitted, arms uncomfortably held to her sides. Clem responded by pulling the sheets back, and patting a spot closer to her.

“There’s some give in the middle of the bed, since I usually sleep there. It kinda molds around you. Try that spot.”

        Violet swallowed hard, lips pressed tightly together as she inched herself closer to the center. Some give was an understatement. She slumped into the mold Clementine’s body left, hands instinctively across her chest.

The snug fit of the mattress around her brought a sense of warm and safety, and she let out a content hum. Clementine pursed her lips, trying desperately to hold back the smile that crept over her lips, while looking down at Violet, as comfortable and secure as she’d ever seen her.

      She fit. In her spot on mattress, on the cork board, in Clementine’s life, in their family dynamic. In everything Clem was never able to tell there was something missing, it changed in an instant when she saw the warm, woodsy green eyes. Then on, she was fucked.

Acting on its own volition, her hand reached out from under her pillow, lightly brushing a blonde stray piece of hair strewn across Violet’s forehead, gently tucking it behind her ear.

       Violet’s eyes opened, her cheeks red and her expression panicked at the contact. The evidence was there, Clem’s hand still rested by her face. On impulse, Clementine raised her finger and bopped her nose.

“Um, gotcha.” Clementine squeaked, before turning so she faced the wall, burying her face in her pillow.

                Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She felt a shift in the weight beside her, and froze up, eyes wide as Violet sat up beside her.

        Clementine’s veins ran ice cold at the feeling of Violet leaning over her, then a quick motion sent her heart into overdrive.

“Boop! Gotcha back.” Violet giggled, pressing her finger gently against the tip of Clementine’s nose before settling back down into the pile of blankets that had accumulated.

       A sense of relief washed over her, and Clementine shifted onto her back, staring up at the stars above her. Stickers of constellations that created a little galaxy on the ceiling.

Violet’s eyes shifted towards them as well, and she stretched her arm out, pointing at the collection of stars directly above their heads.

       “Oh, sweet. Didn’t notice that.” Violet mused, letting her eyes trace across the patterns of the stars.

“Carley and Lee put them up back when we first moved here. My old room had a skylight, and the first couple of nights, I really missed it. So they set this up for me,” Clementine smiled up at the stars, the ends of her lips pulling upwards in a lopsided manner. “Well, Carley did. Lee isn’t that good with... gravity.”

        A giggle escaped Violet’s lips as she tried to imagine Mr. Everett cursing and getting upset at a task such as menial as putting stickers on the wall. Geometric proofs? No biggie. A little home renovation project? Fuck no.

“Did I tell you about the time we went to a water park and he spent like a minute looking directly at a huge puddle, then slipped in it?” Clem snorted, a tired and rasp embedded in her voice.

       Violet raised her arm and pointed up at an amalgamation of stars, pursing her lips while trying to make something out of it. “It’s a sheep.”

“Oh, it kinda does look like a sheep,” Clementine noted, looking at the stars above her head in a different light. Violet had that effect on her, with every new perspective that Vi would point out to her. Now, Clem couldn’t see the blob of stars as anything other than a sheep. “Up in the corner, there’s a spider.”

       Violet gasped, tugging the blankets over her head with more urgency than Clem’s ever seen in her. “A star spider, not a real one.”

The blonde girl’s wide green eyes peeked over the blanket, gaze darting nervously from Clementine to the corner.

       “I can’t believe you accused me of being a blanket hog.” Clem teased, as Violet wrapped the blanket around her like a tight cocoon.

Violet scoffed and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t cover the smile that tugged at her lips or the pink that colored her cheeks. “Shush.”

        Their gazes returned to the wall, two pairs of eyes eagerly scanning to make something out of nothing, an excuse to keep hearing each other’s voices. To make the other one laugh.

“Oh, there’s a mushroom!” Violet chirped up, gently turning over to Clementine when she didn’t get a response. “Do you see it?”

      Her breathing even, like a melody Louis played on the piano. Her eyes gently closed, hushed and still.

Once Violet was sure that Clementine was asleep, she felt around for her bag at the base of the bed. Grasping the familiar leather, she opened the pouch, and quietly pulled out her stuffed bunny. A sense of tranquility washed over her as she held the soft plush in her arms, stroking the matted fur.

              “Aw, cute.”

The sound of Clementine’s faint whisper stopped her in her tracks, grip tightening on the bunny. She went to pull it into her blanket cocoon, but Clem had sat up, her eyes on it.

            “What’s it’s name?”

Violet’s posture stiffened at the sensation of Clementine brushing against her, slouching her arm around the rigid blonde’s shoulder.

      “Um.. Thumper.” Violet admitted sheepishly, running her fingers along the plushie. “My grandma gave it to me when I was born. Can’t sleep without it.”

Clementine’s expression turned solemn, as she reached under her pillow, revealing the stained, worn old hat that had been resting on her dresser previously. “I... can definitely relate to that.”

        Violet quizzically glanced at her, watching as Clem held the brim of her hat with a tight grip, eyes focused on the tear at one of the seams.

“It was my biological dad’s,” Clementine clarified, setting it on her lap. “It’s too old to wear anymore, but I like keeping it near me when I can.”

        With a grim nod, Violet leaned on her shoulder, her emerald green eyes piercing through Clementine. “It’s nice. Having something to anchor yourself with.”

Clementine pursed her lips together, with a quick nod. She set the baseball cap on the corner of her bed, it’s presence giving her the confidence she needed for her next statement.

         “Violet, I-“ Clem managed to sputter before a soft snore cut her off. She hesitantly glanced down at a passed out Violet, a puddle of drool forming on her pillow. Her grip on the plush had loosened, and it sat comfortably in the crook of her arms. Slow, deep breaths that made her lanky body rise and fall, her eyebrows furrowing and twitching occasionally.

With a sigh, Clementine lowered herself back down, turning herself back towards the wall. “Goodnight, Vi.” She whispered over her shoulder, before wrapping her arms around her own pillow, hugging it tightly to her chest.

         The rest of the night was silent, other than the occasional flickering of the porch light and the raindrops that hit the roof. That and the soft, slight snore that came from Violet, and the sound of crickets in the distance.

[pigeon-sponge]

Do you have a tutorial or guide or anything on how you do colors because all of your pieces have such nice colors and lighting Seriously, the use of colors in your art isn’t something I’ve seen very often; I was wondering how you choose them & how you get those effects with the software? Thanks so much is advance if you choose to answer this :)

Thank you ;;;_;;;!! I do, but I think it needs a revamp.

I’m going on a very long ramble.

(Heads up! I’m not professionally trained, I have just watched and read a lot of tutorials and deviated from there with my own thing. Unless it has something to do with color blending modes, there is a good chance that I am using a silly fake term for many of these concepts. Also, I use Krita, but everything here should also be done possible on Photoshop, Medibang, GIMP, and I believe Clip Studio Paint.  Autodesk Sketchbook and MyPaint don’t have filters like color balance, sharpening, etc. and I don’t know of an easy way of changing the saturation of a painting on SAI and FireAlpaca easily since I’ve never used SAI, I’ve only used FireAlpaca once in a blue moon, and searching for either doesn’t give a “one click” option that doesn’t require undos... but everything about color choices/lighting/color filters/blending-modes-that-aren’t-saturation should stay the same.)

There’s as many ways for things to be beautiful as there are birds in the world. But that’s too many birds, so its good to have a process that you try to follow. This is kind of an ideal setup, but I think this is how streamlined I wished I paint. (I usually bop between consolidating colors and adding detail, continuously, for all eternity until i give up and smash that post button blindfolded. I’ll explain what this means.)

So color wise, I try aim for two things: good value blocks and balance (cohesion), and interesting hue variation (jitter).

------

Setting the Ringabel painting with the saturation at 0%/setting the colors on grayscale, then simplified:

These blocks of different colors both provide structure to the painting, and also add to the composition. The thing I want people to notice most - Ringabel’s beautiful, luscious hair that he lovingly tends to every morning (and his face I guess) - is the area with the most contrast. There are logical-ish subdivisions between each part of the painting and I want to preserve these chunks of logical blocks throughout the painting process, or swap them out for Even Better Blocks.

Even then, I want there to be visual interest and a balance of values around the entire piece, which is why I added lighter glitter around areas that aren’t interesting enough to have real detail. No one is going to stare at that area too hard, but without it, this dynamic painting feels too empty.

Also, if I were to do the painting from the ground up again from this thumbnail, I’d also include gradients, to aid in carrying the eye to the focus having a better base to build on. 

This also makes it easier to play with the lighting before getting to the meat of the work!

----

If we take Ringabel to max saturation, you can still see a bit of the value blocks, but there’s just a lot of colors slapped around everywhere:

I like this effect because it squeezes the maximum amount of visible interest out of a block of color as possible while still  keeping the cohesion. And it’s not too hard to do - when you shade your painting, use two different colors instead of just one. When you add lighting, use two different colors. When you have a blob of color, slap some random color on that blob using a softlight blending mode. 

If there’s a concentration of color around an area and there’s an unbalance, add that color on the other side of the painting, to balance.

I like to call this jitter.

----

Let’s talk about cheating really quick:

“I kinda want mess up the colors but in a way thats kinda consistent”

“This is too bright.“

“This is too dark.“

“There’s not enough contrast!! >:(“

“Too much !!!! Contrast!!!!“

“THIS IMAGE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PURPLE“

There is magic in the filter list. Jump in and have fun! (And fix your stuff.)

----

And.... that’s the philosophy.

Keep big chunks to stay organized

But have randomness to be fabulous

No shame in fixing mistakes.

----

So from that, actual painting process for Ringabel on a Horse (clop clop). Here’s the thumbnail, which I drew before I knew how horses worked:

Then we choose hues. This will change over the course of the painting; I ended up with Green, then Red, then Yellow, then blue?

Then, allocate the colors in this way -

Dominant Lighting, Secondary Shading

Secondary Lighting, Dominant Shading

Rim light, another light source

Random random pops of color. because why not.

And pop them in this order:

Base/lineart

Initial color

Random colors (literally any color on the wheel) - Softlight/overlay - introduce jitter

Area Light 1 - (1) - Softlight/overlay - cohesive light

General shading - (2) - Multiply - cohesive shading

Detail shading  - (1) - Multiply - jittery shading

Rim light - (3) - jitter - Softlight/overlay/COLOR DODGE - cohesive, out of left field light

Area light 2 - (1) -Softlight/overlay/COLOR DODGE - cohesive light

Detail - ;;_;; - FIX YOUR MISTAKES, C L E A N

Consolidate - (All 4) again to fix colors from the detail portion

GLITTER - (All 4) - jitter, glitter

Filtering - :D

The idea for 4-9 is that we have a balance of detail (jitter) and cohesion that we need to upkeep, and we need to strike a balance between adding cohesion and removing detail, and vice versa. Usually, I repeat those steps over and over and over and over, trying to get it just right. I tried to keep it simple here for the sake of the tutorial and my own sanity.

And now we do the thing.

Thanks for sticking around, and have a fantastic day!