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#hazelverse
whataboutmyfries · 1 year
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oh my GOSH it has been a hot minute since I wrote these lovely boys!! so here I am, coming at you with small details for fictional kisses oknutzy style!!! headcanoned about this a while ago in the sw discord and it hasn't left my mind since so here we are! characters are by the wonderful @lumosinlove featuring art by my lovely friend @tobi-tobi-tobi who somehow manages to look into my brain with every single one of their pieces and this one was no different :)
enjoy!
~
1.Whispering ''kiss me'' to your lover
Right, so I’ve been thinking about LionFish reading and annotating a book together non stop :’) 
The two of them get cosy and comfy with their different coloured pens, smiling goofily at each other as they crack open the book, jumping into a brand new adventure together. 
If you were to go look at the book after they were done with it, there’s all these little signs of love over every inch of available space.
There’s wobbly tear spots that are outlined and doodled around where the words hit just a little bit too close to home 
Sticky notes over the typewriter ink where the feeling were too big for the page to hold
Leo draws little fishes swimming across the margins and it makes Finn a lovely-dovey mess; Every. Single. Time.
Naturally Lolo sees Finn scribbling in one of his precious books, gets curious, and decides to give this whole annotating thing a go.
One day Lolo just hands Finn a book with a scribbled note inside the cover saying 'hey, i read this and it made me think of you xx' and the first thing Finn notices is that the top right corner is like a centimetre or so thicker than the rest of the book from where Lolo's dog-eared all his favourite parts and Finn english major O Hara’s eye just twitches as he tries his best to not implode
He loves it. He cries. 
It’s this book of heartwrenching, delightfully emotional poetry about love and pining. And Logan’s scribbles about Harvard, and Finn, and finding him and Leo, and finding himself through them are so vulnerable and heartfelt that the only time Finn can read the book without sobbing his eyes out for hours is if he’s wrapped up in his Logan, head resting on Logan’s strong chest so he can lean up and whisper a hoarse “kiss me” when the memories are too big and too much to handle. 
It’s one of Finn’s most prized possessions. 
Leo annotating for Finn on the other hand…..
Picture if you will: What if Leo's current read is some historical fiction book and when he hands it to finn it's basically more than twice its original size and won't even close anymore from the sheer volume of sticky notes that Leo's put in there pointing out historical inaccuracies or just dropping cute lil history facts
Finn is a mess of heart eyes and undying love as he works his way through the behemoth of the book, and it still holds a treasured place on his bookshelf 
Yet another of his most prized possessions 
Fun fact: It’s only when they get into reading together that Leo finds out that Finn will use anything as a bookmark 
One day he comes home to find the household cat’s (king’s) face smooshed gently between the pages of Finn’s latest paperback, his whiskers peeking out the pages as he sleeps
Leo can’t decide between snapping a picture and laughing his ass off (he does both) 
Of course, in an effort to get their beloved Lolo into reading, the boys decide to annotate a book for him together, potentially giving him an incentive to read it. 
They find a brilliant thriller/horror+romance book that they think Logan would enjoy and they spend hours poring over it (even though it gives leo the heebie jeebies at times) and annotating it for Lolo, Logan's super confused as to why his boyfriends are reading the same book at the same time, like ???? this is so dumb? Why don’t they just take turns? it's it awkward to have to wait for the other person to finish reading? wouldn't it be easier to do it one by one? but when they're both finally finished writing all over it and making it perfect for their boy (there's absent-minded doodles of fleur-de-lis all over the margins in the purple pen that Leo used and little stick-figure drawing of the three of them in Finn's orange ink. It clashes horribly (Logan loves it). they give to him all wrapped up and pretty and Lolo tears up a little
When Logan's reading it, he can't help but laugh at the cacophony of purple and orange on every square inch of available space and the book quickly becomes his most prized possession. He knows it's a horror book and it's supposed to be scary and stuff, but how is he supposed to be scared when there's stick figure Finn with the most floofy hair brandishing a sword against a monster that doesn't look even remotely like the thing described in the book as he holds stick-figure logan in astronomically muscly arms?
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Sometimes when Leo can't sleep, Logan grabs the book and reads to Leo, though Leo usually loathes thrillers/horror books. He's lying with his head pillowed on Logan's chest listening to the rumble of his sleep-hoarse voice as Lolo does silly voices for Leo and Finn's annotations and that's how Leo reads the book start to finish without being scared
Just them being happy and in love and the intricate rituals of storytelling <3
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lumosinlove · 3 years
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Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...
But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)
Find it here on Ao3
~
Of Silence And Slow Time
part i of iii
~
New York City, 1920
~
Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.
“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”
Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.
“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”
It had taken everything for him to get home.
Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.
Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.
“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. ���You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”
“I’m not going back to France.”
“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”
Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—
Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”
Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”
Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”
Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.
Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.
He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”
Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.
~
Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.
Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.
Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.
Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.
“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.
Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.
“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”
Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.
Le Lion.
“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”
The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”
Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.
A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.
“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”
Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.
“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”
“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”
Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.
~
The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.
Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.
When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.
Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.
The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.
The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.
~
Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.
And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.
“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”
Leo?
And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.
“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“
He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.
Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”
Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”
“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.
“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”
That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.
“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.
He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.
“Are you all right?” Leo asked.
“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.
Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”
It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.
“Please,” he managed more quietly.
He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.
~
“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.
Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”
“And where are you taking me?”
“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”
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camberdraws · 5 years
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Another forest spirit drawing! This one is pretty ancient, at least 200 - 300 years old.
Thanks for looking!
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birdcatart · 7 years
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more characters of AntCement
a fact; Craig’s pet plant, polly was going to be a chomper
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capta1nbreadbeard · 7 years
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im working on a lil pvz thing called “Hazelverse”
stay tuned
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lickingtherabbit · 7 years
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MOON MOON MOON - HAZELVERSE. Everyone loving Sparklehorse, Bright Eyes, Elliott Smith and the Microphones should embrace Dutch band Moon Moon Moon. We said this before and we’ll say it again and again, until everyone has done so. Maybe a new song will help: the wonderful, a little less quiet sounding Hazelverse, of the upcoming album Help! Help! Wondrous sounding bedroom folk doesn’t get any better than this. Help! Help! will be released sometime in the upcoming months. If you’re impatient: Moon Moon Moon songwriter Mark Lohmann just put out an album for the occasion of the Leiden International Film Festival: Sitting Through Credits (listen on Bandcamp or on Spotify).
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justanothersong · 10 years
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Listening to Sister Hazel on repeat so I can prep for writing the next ficlet in my Hazelverse.
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lumosinlove · 3 years
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Finn’s birthday (August 10) sneak snoop!
Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—
Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”
Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.”
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lumosinlove · 3 years
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Between Fifth And You
AO3
chapter two
~
It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.
Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.
“Shoot, shoot!”
Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.
Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.
“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”
Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”
“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.
Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”
Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”
“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”
Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”
Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.
“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.
“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”
Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”
“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”
Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.
“Hey, feel like lunch?”
“I thought you had to be back.”
Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”
Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.
Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.
“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”
Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”
Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”
Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”
Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”
Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”
Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”
Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.
“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”
Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.
“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.
Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”
Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.
“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.
“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”
Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”
Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”
Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”
Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”
“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”
Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”
They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.
“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.
The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?
“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”
Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”
Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.
Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.
XOXO
Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?
Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.
XOXO.
[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]
Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.
“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.
“And you,” Julian said.
“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.
But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.
“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.
“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”
“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.
Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”
Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.
The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.
I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.
Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.
Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?
Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.
But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.
Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.
“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.
Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.
“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.
“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.
“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”
“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”
Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.
“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”
XOXO
“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”
Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”
“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”
“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”
“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.
“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”
Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.
“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.
“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.
“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.
Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.
“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”
“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“
Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.
“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”
“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”
“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.
And then there was Logan.
Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.
Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.
“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”
“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”
Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”
Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.
“Green,” Finn breathed.
“What?” Alex asked.
Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.
“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.
“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.
“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”
Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”
“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”
“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.
Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”
Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.
XOXO
“What say you, Capulet?”
Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”
“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”
“Yep.”
“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”
“Yep.”
Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”
Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”
Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”
“What else is new?” Sirius said.
Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”
Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.
“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”
Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—
“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.
“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”
Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?
“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”
“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”
“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”
Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.
I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.
“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.
“I’ll be watching.”
“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.
“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”
Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”
She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”
Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”
Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.  
“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”
“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”
She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”
It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.
“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.
“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.
Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.
“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.
Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.
“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.
“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”
Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.
“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”
Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”
Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”
“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”
Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.
“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”
“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”
Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”
“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”
Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.
In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.
Remus had been waiting for him back stage.
“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.
“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.
But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.
Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.
Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.
“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.
XOXO
Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.
“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.
“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.
“Me or my mom?”
“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”
Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”
Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”
Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”
Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.
“Another drink, sir?”
Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.
“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”
Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.
“I’m working, sir.”
“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”
“I don’t think so,” Luke said.
“Oh, no?”
Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?
“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”
Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.
“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”
The barkeep turned away.
Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.
XOXO
The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.
Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.
“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.
“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.
Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”
“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.
“Who’s Leo?”
“My boyfriend.”
Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”
“You didn’t—“
“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”
Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.
“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.
Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.
XOXO
Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.
Green.
“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”
“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.
“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”
Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.
“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.
Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.
“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”
“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”
“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”
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birdcatart · 7 years
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Dan n John frm antcement
i frgot how to draw hats
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birdcatart · 7 years
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alternate design of slenderhazel, i thought abt birch trees when i was drawing it
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birdcatart · 7 years
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some zombie characters to start off hazelverse
their series is called ‘AntCement’
if you must know;
john is based off of the scientist
Dan S. is based off of the all star
Edward Emerson is based off of the foot soldier
more characters to come
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birdcatart · 7 years
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The SlenderHazel
This eldritch plant is the ‘star’ of the Hazelverse, which is inspired by victor surge’s ‘slenderman’
this is also inspired from witch hazel
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