#mod writes

[howlingmod]

Are you bored yet?

summary ; human/actors au again ... reader is a local clay worker that Wally may or may not like just a teeny bit. meetcute coric ..

notes ; they/them used for reader , not proof read and just a teeeny tiny bit rushed (i am sleepy) . glass breaks but there is no violence or anything ..

wc - 2k

He really should’ve been more careful, looking back on it now.

Yes, it’d been a while since he’d gotten that vase and set it down, but, really, for walking past it every single day, he should’ve realized how precariously it sat on the table. He should’ve realized that sooner or later, he was going to be too tired to remember to give it some space when he walked back into his apartment. Unfortunately, however, he did not in fact realize that in time. And so, he is tragically faced with the terrible fate of going and buying a new vase. Perhaps this time, he will not place it so precariously. Perhaps this time he will buy a thicker one that has less chances of shattering into one-thousand tiny pieces in the dark at around 10pm on a Thursday. He had much to think about in his journey of replacement.

Luckily, for as long as he’d had the vase, he could still vaguely recall where he’d gotten it from. It was some pottery store he’d randomly passed by once just outside of the city, curiousity (and fatigue, if he remembers right, it’d been an eventful day and he was still too jittery to lay down quite yet) getting the better of him when he’d noticed it. The owners were nice enough, an older couple who he could recall telling him long-winded stories about anything tangentially related to what he’d been looking at. Plates with flowers painted on them prompted a story about some unidentified, gorgeous plants one of them had seen around a river long ago. A cup with an oceanic color-scheme had prompted a tale of a seagull one of their previous coworkers would feed bits and pieces of bread to on their break. So on, so forth. Long winded for anyone passing through, but pleasant for someone just tired enough to want white noise and easy, one-sided conversation.

Getting into his car, he wondered if they’d have any stories to tell him this time. He would likely be better conversation this time, now that he was less exhausted from being around other people for a long, exciting period of time and more tired from waking up at some time before 11am on a rare free day. He found himself gathering excitment somewhere in his chest, bubbling up in fondness at the idea of this little trip. Sure, it was just a silly little thing to be excited over, but it was nice to have a break from monotony, wasn’t it?

It was a nice day out, too. The breeze forgiving and the sun sociable in the sky, bright rays easily negotiated to peace with sunglasses. It’d been a while since he’d ventured out of the city. Sure, it’s not as though he lived in the heart of it, but it was still different to see the buildings like miniatures from afar. It was a nice break from the towering skyscrapers and heavy traffic. Especially the traffic, actually. He’d never been good with handling bad drivers.

There wasn’t anyone else in the parking lot, only one or two other cars there, likely the owner’s or someone in a closeby building’s. There were a few other businesses dotted around in the area, some strip mall closeby and a park on the way there. He was likely just early, there probably aren’t many people stopping to buy pottery at 9am.

The inside of the store was quiet enough, music playing softly enough you had to pay attention to the murmurs to pick up on it. The lights shone on everything, not blindingly as much as it was in gentle awareness of everything. As his eyes refocused, he could’ve sworn he seen a vague shape duck into a doorway near the back of the store. Before he could properly investigate his suspicions, his attention was drawn away.

“Well, I was wondering when the resident celebrity was coming back!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, turning to face his company. “I hope I’m not intruding, it seems I’m rather early this time.”

The older woman he recognized from his previous visit smiled and shook her head, “Much earlier, I’m glad to see the cold night didn’t drag you in this time.”

He returned the smile, pushing his hands into his pants pockets as he replied, “Oh no, I was actually coming to look and see if you had any new vases in.”

She’d lit up at his words, straightening up with intent to lead him off, “Of course! We’ve got plenty of new ones in since last time, I’m sure we can find one to your liking.”

-

“-turns out, that hammering I thought I’d heard from the neighbors had just been a big woodpecker all along!”

He’d smiled fondly, “Ah! You don’t see many of those around here, do you?” He was careful to keep a good grip on the vase in his hands, decorated in an intricate scene of a forest dotted with various birds. From the minute details on every pine needle and carved indents on certain elements, he could only imagine how long it’d taken to make.

“No, no you don’t,” she’d laughed, shaking her head as she looked back to the shelf filled to the brim with other, equally eye-catching vases. He’d studied the one in his hands a moment longer, carefully tracing over the carving of texture in a tree before perking up at a new sound.

A soft ‘clink’ had snapped him out of his thoughts. Initially, he’d figured the old woman had picked up a new piece to show him, but found she was still studying the selection herself. He’d turned around quickly, curious to see if anyone else had stopped in, but the store was empty. That was when his eyes caught that doorway again, vaguely making out the shape of shelving in the darkened hall. On that shelving sat one vase, darkness obscuring the pattern of it.

“Why put that one piece there?”

The woman had snapped out of her own thoughts, looking back at him momentarily before following his gaze to the pot patiently sitting in the shade. Upon noticing the object of his attention, she’d smiled once more and turned back to him, “Our resident potter puts their finished work there so we can price it and set it out.”

That had caught his attention. “Resident?”

“Oh yes! While we do get a fair amount from other sources, just as fair an amount is homemade,” she hummed, “Would you like to meet them?”

He’d readjusted his hold on the vase again, not wanting to risk another work in his excitement, “If that wouldn’t be a bother.”

She shook her head, “I’m sure it’ll be quite alright, chances are they would appreciate the conversation, artist-to-artist.”

Before he could offer any sort of further fret, she’d started off towards the hall, leaving him to stand awkwardly with the glassware on his lonesome. He’d glanced at the large cardinal on the surface of the piece one final time before hurriedly (and carefully) placing it back on the shelf, jumping to catch up.

-

It was far darker back here than it had been in the main area of the store. Combined with the noticable increase in temperature, however, it was more comfortable than you would’ve imagined. Through the shade he could pick out calenders, notes and other miscellanious papers littered along walls and desks. Half-dirtied rags were scattered on shelves, various bottles standing not far from them nor the different tools lying about. Before he could even try and dissect what their uses would be by simple observing and guessing, the woman spoke up again.

“I hope you don’t mind some company, (Name),” she chimed, speaking just a tad louder to properly catch attention in all the visual noise.

With that, he’d finally noticed the figure standing in front of a tall table near the middle of the room, turning their head to look towards her. Their eyes flicked to him momentarily in what he could only assume was surprise. They’d straightened up from their hunched over position, wiping their hands off on a dirtied apron as they walked around the table and towards the pair.

Oh no.

They’d opened their mouth to start talking to her, but he couldn’t pick up on any of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was focusing on, he just knew that he was particularly distracted by the person in front of him and it wasn’t exactly getting any better the more and more he zoned out. He couldn’t make out every detail perfectly in the low-lighting, but it was enough that he could very, very easily tell this person was very, very attractive.

“-so you’re that one guy on tv?”

“Yes!” He flinched as he snapped out of his thoughts, “Wally Darling, but just Wally is more than fine.”

You’d smiled and for a brief moment he had to hope and pray his wasn’t too dopey and the low light hid the heat in his face as you stuck your hand out. There was a brief moment your smile faltered, as though suddenly realizing something, but it wasn’t a fast enough reaction as he’d snatched up your hand. Your hands were, similarly to the rest of the room, noticably warmer. They were also noticably sticky with clay, some already drying out on your skin as the rest, inevitably, would likely dry to his.

“And could I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” You looked like you were stuck between apologizing for getting the blood of your work on him and introducing yourself, glancing between him and your hands for a few moments. He vaguely realized this was probably a bit long for a handshake. Eventually, you managed a weak smile, righting your grip on his hand, “(Name).”

“That’s a very lovely name,” he stated plainly, hoping you could pick up on the sincerity in his flatter tone, “How long have you been working with ceramics, if you don’t mind my asking?”

You’d perked up at that, seemingly completely forgetting about the handshake (that was still yet to properly break apart, this was definitely not a proper one, anymore) with the topic of your work. “Well, that’s a bit of a difficult question. I’ve been working with clay for a long, long time, but I really only picked it up career wise a year or two ago.”

“Ah! That figures, your work is all very professional looking, it’s very impressive,” he complimented. Sure, he might’ve been laying it on a little thick, but it seemed as though he’d suddenly lost the ability to control his words, them tumbling out before he could even really think about it.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to mind, instead reaching up a hand to rub at the back of your neck. “Well, I don’t think my work is that stellar, but I really appreciate it. It uh- it definitely takes some time, it’s nice to see it goes to good use.”

“It’s nothing, really. If you don’t mind, could I watch for a bit? It’s completely fine if not, I really am just curious to see how you go about it.” Yes, he was definitely pushing his luck a little bit. In his defense, however, he was genuinely curious about how you managed to get all your vases so smooth and pack so many details onto such a small, unconventional canvas. It was just an added bonus that he’d possibly get to find out more about you, that was all! He can’t help the mysterious potter he hadn’t even known existed was not only nice on the eyes but, so far, was nothing short of pleasant.

You’d thought on it a moment, moving the hand at the back of your neck to hang at your jaw absentmindedly, “I suppose that would be fine by me, I can’t promise it’ll be too entertaining though.”

He smiled and shook his head, “Not a problem at all! I’m sure I can find enough entertainment for the both of us, I am an entertainer myself, after all.”

You returned his smile, finally letting go of his hand and breaking off your entirely-professional handshake to turn and head back to your workstation, “Well, make yourself comfortable, then.”

"Oh, trust me, that won't be any problem at all."

[modmad]

GOOD MORNING TUMBLR the sun is shining the birds are singing and it's a beautiful day to FUND THE THIRD BOOK of my goofy webcomic The Poptart of Kate but I am gonna talk a bit more about the STRETCHGOAL BOOK!

Every day is opposite day in the world beneath our feet- the world where our shadows dwell, and the world which abides to the laws of Levity, rather than all that silly Gravity stuff that we all have to deal with. There are dragons, trains, courthouses comprised entirely of birds, and much much more besides. Explore this Topsy-Turvey world inside this book along with a girl who discovers, not only where she might truly belong, but who she truly is…

Interested? You can actually read four chapters of this story (as they were in their WIP state) right here on my website to get a better feel for it! They had the working title of ETHEL so look for those in the Short-ish Stories section!

Unbecoming has been illustrated by @crankyteapot​ who is just marvellous dear heaven please go and look at their work. And because I’m shy about talking up my own work here are their tags! Which are very nice. Thanks cranky ;;

 We've already hit 15% of the TPoH goal but there's a long way to go, and only 20 days to get there! Why not be a hero and help us out!

[seven-pink-glasses]

Laughter bursts into the air as the camera turned on and faced into the apartment where three people stood doing their own things.

"Atticus, careful! I have a hot pan over there!" The man on the right, Simon Glass, called out in warning as he threw in a couple of chocolate chips into the raw dough he was holding.

"It's fine Glassy! I'm super duper careful." The pink haired person waved their hand dismissively at the former. "I'm just saying hi."

Dr Simon Glass rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his baking. He's got a few days worth of pastry to refill in the apartment.

From behind the two of them, Abirt Kravitz smiled affectionately as he continued conversing on his phone.

____________________________________________________________

Hello hello once again! It is me again and yes, this is a whole rewrite of @that-funky-family!

I know I've remade the blog twice now but hey, they say third time's the charm right?

-Alt (@atinyladybug-daydreams)

____________________________________________________________

As usual, the rules of this blog are simple!

Any form of discrimination OUTSIDE of character will not be tolerated. In-character depends on the mod.

Tone indicators greatly appreciated

Everything slightly NSFW will be tagged under #dirty or #inappropriate (Minors don't interact with such tagged posts

Blog Status:

Asks, DMs , Submissions, blog-to-blog and muse interactions are opened

Anons are on

M!A (Magic Anon) is closed ATM.

This blog uses Recollection AU lore. (I ramble about it in @atinyladybug-art sometimes!)

Current Muses:

Dr Abirt Kravitz

Dr Simon Glass

Atticus Kravitz

Other RP Blogs I run:

@sleeping-pajamas (Dr Pajamas | Amalgam AU)

@forget-me-nots-and-heliotropes (Not-Atticus | Recollection AU)

_________________________________________________________

Toyhouse Profiles:

[idatenjumpfanatic]

Okay fine im going to go shameless and promote my fic here

Uhhh, brief summary ig, it’s an OC-insert, Gabu’s twin sister who basically rides along the show’s canon events for the most of part 1 but adds a little spice to it.

Some of her characteristics are she’s a chaotic neutral, expressive, and very talkative despite the fact that her love languages are act of service and physical affection. She may not start fights, physical ones, but if you do you better make sure you’re ready to finish it or she will do it for you.

She goes along well with Gabu and Taiga, even so much as to join the former’s schemes, but she has her boundaries. As expected of siblings, she butt heads with them just as much.

She says she doesn’t care about what happens to Shark Tooth when things go awry but she often ends up talking them out of trouble if Taiga isn’t around.

Character sheet!

I’d post my character sketch (the full write down about the character, personality, and relationships) here but the doc it is in has my story plot/beats in there as well as some major spoilers so just have these screenshots

It’s just became my consistent headcanon that Gabu is just terrible at cooking lol

I actually made a comic abt meeting Makoto but i never got past 2 pages bc I’m terrible with dialogue but here it is. Click for better quality, but if the dialogue is really that hard to read lmk I’ll add transcriptions

And finally, the cherry on top, some sketches of Chapter 2, with absolutely no proper order of events

Yeah, this is going to be 100% platonic and familial relationships

[doctorwhozzat]

hand holding

Her hand always seemed to find his.

Whether she was sad, scared, excited…

It didn't matter.

The Doctor never brought it up, not minding it one bit. He often wondered if Ana knew she was holding his hand. Seemingly caught up in her own little world most times.

There were moments where she'd catch herself. Pulling her hand away instantly. A string of apologies followed. He'd tell her it was alright. The timelord could tell she still felt a sense of shame for reasons he couldn't quite decipher.

Perhaps it was fear of attachment. Something he could relate to.

His heart has been broken more times than he could count. The doctor wonders if that happened to her as well. He could see it in her eyes that Ana longed to be close.

Truth be told, it was nice to have someone's hand to hold. To give a comforting squeeze. To gently hold back.

A nice reminder that you weren't alone.

[phantom-thieves-official]

"A lot happened tonight, I guess. Once I got home and started tryin’ to relax, it all sort of sunk in. We disappeared from reality, we almost died, we fought a God, dude! And now the Phantom Thieves are really over…” He trails off, scowling at the lights before him. “I dunno. I don’t have any grand, insightful thoughts about it all. Just a lot of feelings. What do I do with that, man?” He laughs again, harsh and bitter.

Akira shrugs, giving Ryuji’s hand a reassuring little squeeze. “I don’t know.” He rests his head on Ryuji’s shoulder.

Shit, Akira’s got plenty of his own feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. Feelings that are eating him alive, as he stands here alone with Ryuji. Feelings he won't have another chance to get off his chest - but that he still can't seem to spit out, anyways.

Where do you put the pain, the fear, the doubt?

The love?

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

The Phantom Thieves have defeated the God of Control and prevented Mementos from fusing with reality. But one more thing needs to be done before Akira can rest - someone has to testify against Shido.

That's tomorrow. Tonight, Akira spends Christmas Eve with Ryuji, and everything he doesn't say eats him alive.

[cat-of-the-anbu]

//Drabble for @cherrypiesakurokun

The night air was cold as he was standing under the moon on a training field. The young man was up late, practicing new jutsus to attempt the jonin exam again. He had been mastering both earth and water releases as that was what he had shown an affinity for, but that was still a ways off.

The world was quiet. The moon illuminated the training field as Sakuro managed to split and raise the earth just as his sensei had taught him. He was getting closer and closer to his goal with every mastered jutsu.

Feeling the drain of exhaustion, the young man decided it was time to pack it up. When he turned to grab his bag, he saw a covered plate with a note on it.

'Don't overwork yourself. Have a snack and take a warm soak. We are learning more jutsus tomorrow.

-Yamato'

Sakuro couldn't help the smile as he munched on the provided apple slices and dango. It felt good to be believed in again.

[delightfulcrasher]

How they taste:

Dimitrescu tastes refined. He’s an old fashioned drink in a Smokey lounge, something to be enjoyed after a long day. He put’s your mind at ease, clears your thoughts. Bitter, yet refreshing, like ice melted in whisky. The aftertaste is Smokey, bitter remnants of cigarette ash and a broken dream of grandeur. You feel strangely placid after drinking it.

Belmont is more tame. He resembles the same essence as his father, holding a similar bitterness to him, but not nearly as memorable. He’s more like citrus, the taste jolting your senses into fight or flight. The description is on the tip of your tonged. Sour, that’s what he is. You feel as if you’re forgetting something. Was there an errand you forgot to run, a loose end left untied? Whatever it was is long forgotten now. Take another sip and forget.

It’s best to take Cassandros like a shot. Don’t think about it. Just close your eyes and down the drink. You feel it in the back of your throat, a burning sensation slowly starting to grow, and the incessant need to cough it up. He’s a spicy one, that’s for sure. You feel hot all over, needing something else to parch the thirst. If you’re brave enough, or a masochist, you’ll do it again.

Daniel is sweet. Very sweet. Extremely sweet to the point you choke. The impact is instant, a hit and retreat, like sipping on vanilla essence. The taste rots your teeth and leaves a sickening feeling coating the inside of your mouth. You feel it under your tongue and between your gums, moving like an infectious disease devouring taste buds until you taste nothing but him.

[sleeping-pajamas]

A tag appeared next to a sleeping Pajamas which woke him up. He had an inkling suspicion on who it was from as he grabbed the note it came with.

He read the tag before falling back into his bed and turning around with a groan.

"Goddamnit, it's too early for this."

[forget-me-nots-and-heliotropes]

M!A. A tuppaware container packed full of fried tofu. No note or indication who it's from. Just a container of fried, extra firm, tofu. This time, there's also sauce in a separate container though

Orange stared at the container and picks it up before shaking it. Deciding that it looks safe, she turned to ████ and showed it to them. "What's this?"

████ took a look at it with a blank face. "It's a human food called tofu. Who sent it?"

Orange shrugs. "It just appeared. Like magic."

"Keep it in the fridge."

"Okay."

[howlingmod]

Nighttime Friend

summary ; reader is some sort of scrapped character and is also wally’s slightly scary looking friend . wally likes scary people /ref

tw ; body horror? described reader very little but they are meant to be. well. Scrapped. , very very very fast and loose canon compliancy wise … mix of drabble and hcs for my own sanity. alternates from 'in show' to 'real world' type of setting ! maybe confusing. + very little proofreading

wc - 1.8k

It’d been such a nice day out today. The clouds had given way for the sun to shine upon every flower and the trees had gave way for comfortable patches of shade and the grass had given way for a comfortable bed which in turn gave way for someone to rest on it for a while. Wally had found himself enjoying recreating his scenery quite a bit today, there were just so many little details to add and take in to capture in oil paints. It truly, truly was such a wonderful day.

And yet, he couldn’t help but be excited for it to end.

Not out of exhaustion or irritation! No, no, quite the opposite, really! He loved spending time with his friends out and about, even if they would just stop by to talk while he painted, he loved every moment of it. Yet, he always knew that he was missing one of his friends whenever he was out like this. He couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift off to the one person he’d never had come up to talk to him as he finished the wings of a butterfly or simply sit in contentment with when brushstrokes closed off a leaf on a tree.

So, when the sky had begun to shift colors, he was quick to pack his supplies away. The sun gave way for the beginnings of stars, the heat ebbed away to a comfortable medium that gave way for the cozy mental image of a light blanket. He’d returned a quick, whipping wave from Julie with a cooler, lazier one of his own and a chimed ‘Good night, neighbor.’ He’d given well wishes to Frank and a light-hearted ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ to Howdy, so on and so forth. He’d always liked giving his friends one last little reminder that he cared about them before he returned back home. He liked making sure his friends were happy, that was always very, very important to Wally.

As such, he always made sure to make sure you were happy, too.

As far as he could tell, none of his other friends knew about you. He’d asked Sally if she’d ever seen someone about your height in her audiences, asked Eddie if he’d ever seen a letter with an odd address, and Barnaby if he’d ever heard a specific kind of laugh. All of his questions came back with uncertain answers, they could recall something similar, but there was never anything definite. They could feel like they'd seen something not far off from his description, but it never was on the mark.

(To be entirely fair, he couldn’t really remember when he’d first seen you either though. It comes out foggy whenever he tries to recall, vague shapes and colors all blurring together incoherently when he tries to think of the first thing you’d ever said to him. He hopes he didn’t say anything silly to you. He likes making a good first impression, after all!)

[He couldn't remember what you originally looked like anymore. It was all just blobs of colors in his mind. He couldn't find any recordings or artwork. He couldn't find the portrait of you from that one episode recorded a long time ago. He knew he hadn't gotten rid of it. It was hidden, somewhere in that workshop.]

He’d offered to introduce you to them properly, a few times now. You’d always shake your head quickly, insisting you weren’t ready to be seen yet. That was alright, he just figured you were a little shy. Maybe you’d get along well with Poppy … He could wait to find that out.

(He could pick up on the unspoken bits. You weren’t ready to be seen like this. You didn’t know what they would say. He could understand. He didn’t like being seen with his hair down. Friends or not, there was always that nagging, wasn’t there?)

[So why, then, did he not worry about hiding away when he’d return with hair flattened by rain or bedhead in the mornings? Why then did you slink out whenever he’d come back to ask how his day was? Why was it different? Why did he feel different when it came to you? Why did he feel different about you? Is this how friends think of eachother? He didn’t think about anyone else in the neighborhood like this. Why was it that whenever you’d dismiss his offers words would pool on his tongue, tied by something unfamiliar and new-]

“I’m home, dear!” He was never one to change his volume much, he’d always struggled with getting much louder than his normal speaking voice. Yet, he’d always get just a bit louder whenever making this (quite uneeded, you could hear the door closing along with his footsteps) announcement of sorts.

He could feel his smile grow just a tad wider when he’d picked up on those telltale, quiet footfalls from somewhere else in Home. He could feel something or other pull at his chest when you’d finally shambled into view, instinctively stepping forward to help close the gap. It was something of a routine, at this point, evident in how you’d leaned down the moment he’d his hands up to you, finding their place at the sides of your face.

(You felt different from him and his friends, less soft and more scratchy. Not to any jarring degree, just enough that when he’d brush a thumb over your cheeks or your hand he would pick up on the difference. It was a curious little bit, to him.)

[You’d remarked on the difference yourself, once. You’d been particularly touchy that day, holding his face in your hands and raking nails through the shortest parts of his hair. You’d said he felt so fuzzy. You’d said you missed feeling fuzzy too. You didn’t say anything else that night. He’d taken to tracing shapes on your hands and arms when you both finally laid down. His tongue was tied again, surplus of words choked back. He liked the way you felt, it was unique to you. He didn’t mind the difference, he didn’t mind that you looked different, it wasn’t your fault, there were just some budget cuts that-]

You didn’t have to speak, either, with how familiar and treaded this routine was he already knew what you were asking when you’d tug on one of his sleeves and nudge further into his hands.

(You didn’t talk too much, you said that it felt funny if you did it for too long. He could vaguely understand that, your voice sounded just a tad different to the others as well. You obviously had your own tone and vocal quirks, but it was always just a little off in some indescribable way. There was always something humming underneath your words, like feedback on a microphone.)

[He was finding he rather liked the sound of feedback on a microphone. He was finding he rather liked you, he was finding himself imagining you waving him over while having tea with Julie, or laughing at something Barnaby said at a picnic while you sat next to him, or some other little fantasy. They felt so real that it hurt to think about. If he could just find lots of thread and more of your original parts then maybe things could go back to that script-]

“Oh, I have so much to tell you! Sally’s working on another play, and it’s actually very interesting so far. It’s about …”

-Wally finds you veeerry very interesting in many ways. He won’t pry too much if he ever notices his questions seem to upset you, but do expect an inquiry or two about this and that. They mostly revolve around how certain things feel for you, after all, he’d hate to do something to accidentally make you uncomfortable! Oh, it’s too hard for you to lift something up? That’s ok, he can get it for you! It’s too uncomfortable to talk? Just fine! He’s got plenty to talk to you about in your stead.

-When you’d first started interacting, the staring was a point of discomfort. You knew he likely didn’t mean anything by it, but it was hard to not feel just a little anxious under his gaze. While you knew he was just like that, it didn’t stop you from worrying if he was judging you- which! he has (and will!) reassure you time and time again that he would never do! He loves you far too much to do anything like that :[ … while he definitely struggled with remembering to, he made an effort to try and . not . stare too much, and even when he did he would focus on select things (your eyes were his favorite by far, scuffs from landing the floor time and time again and all) rather than you overall in hopes you wouldn’t worry as much. If it’s ever one of those days where you just can’t seem to stand being looked at by any means, he offers to walk around in a blind-fold. He does NOT care if he trips and falls, he just wants his dear friend to be happy. Besides, you tend to keep him safe when he sticks by your side, so he trusts you won’t let him make an utter fool of himself.

-On better days, though, he likes to paint you. He likes painting all of his friends, of course, but it’s different when it comes to you. Every last portrait makes him find some little detail he hadn’t noticed before. Just last week he’d noticed you had multicolored scraps of fabric sticking out just above one of your wrists. The week before that he’d noticed one of your fingers had dark blue stitched attaching it to your hand. So on, so forth. (While he struggles with his words when it comes to you, he really does find you captivating. You’re full of so many little bits and pieces all entangled in such an interesting way he’s never imagined before. If he could get himself together and you could bear listening to sappy-speak at length, he would go over every last detail that he adores about you, from the scraps to the threads to the faint scuffs in your pupils. He does hope he doesn’t look too silly whenever he stares at you for a brief moment or two, it gets hard to not smile just a little wider when he’s gazing at you so.)

-VERY very big fan of cuddling with you :] your ability to not exactly fall to the same physical boundaries that him and his friends due lends to you being able to pull him just a tad closer. He likes the pressure when you lean on him with limbs keeping him close. While he does try to stay up as long as he can to spend time with you, at one point or another he does want to sleep … however that does not mean he would like you to seperate from him. Surely, you wouldn’t mind his “”“”“snoring”“”“”“”“” (read. repetition of ‘im sleeping’) too much, right? He sure hopes not, he’s a little too comfortable to really want to sleep anywhere other than in your arms.

-He tries to sneak you out in the daytime sometimes … he only does it when you’re alright with it, of course, but he’s veeerry careful. He understands you aren’t quite ready to meet all your friends (Yes, your friends. He knows they would love you, it was meant to be!) yet, so he’ll make sure to bring you to some pleasant places he knows they wouldn’t go to at that time whenever you want some fresh air. (Given the fact that you tend to be more active at night, chances are you sleep during the day. He finds your sleepiness to be very cute, so you’ll have to forgive him if he pokes just a teeeny bit of fun at you … he just thinks your tired play-arguing is fun.)

[that-funky-family]

An Exchange of Words [Part 6]

Masterlist

Part 5

"You have... a lot of herbs."

The anomalous linguist looks incredulously at the amount of bottles lined on the table. The amount didn't stop as Not-Atticus kept pulling more and more out from the same shelf.

'Honestly, I'm not even going to question how it all fit in there.' They thought whilst staring the the comically small cabinet housing over 20 bottles the size of their entire hand.

A little bit earlier, Not-Atticus had given Ash a cloth to wrap their hands with in order to wipe away most the blood without it dripping everywhere. Said cloth also seemed to be dipped with something as it was cold to the touch. Not that Ash really minded as it was pleasant in an almost minty kind of way.

It was finally when Not-Atticus pulled out purple bottle did they finally stopped rummaging. Plasted on it was a ripped piece of paper with the words "healing" written messily in ink on it.

"Hands out," Not-Atticus commanded to which Ash obeyed. They quickly removed the cloth they were given and held out their hands. They briefly wondered if it will hurt as Not-Atticus removed the cork to the bottle with a soft pop.

However, they did not expect that the potion would feel warm and gently. Like running your fingers in a bathtub with warm water after a cold winter's day. It gave Ash a little pang of nostalgia before it turned into fascination as the potion that fell of their hand defied gravity and rose, engulfing their hands in the strange liquid.

"What is this?" Ash asked curiously as they pulled their hands back, watching in amazement as the blood slowly disappeared. The wounds were already starting to heal. Despite the few weeks staying in the library, they had not seen this before. No, not even in the books they read or the information posters they came across

Not-Atticus only replied to Ash's question after closing the bottle and grabbing the bandages left on the table. "Healing potion," he replied as he began wrapping Ash's hands. "Not strong enough to completely heal your wounds but strong enough to clear them and quicken the progress."

"Where did you learn it from?" Ash asked. They watched as Not-Atticus gently wrapped the bandages and tighten it to make sure it fitted. There was a certain gentleness given by Not-Atticus that Ash enjoyed and appreciated. When they had met Atticus for the first time, he had been pretty rough by grabbing them and dragging them around with no regards to their being.

"I created it." Not Atticus replied as he started bandaging the other hand.

"Oh, that sounds pretty cool! So does that mean you're an alchemist? I've heard about the profession while in the library."

Not Atticus shook their head. "They're different things."

"How so?"

Not Atticus glanced up from wrapping the bandages and tilted their head. "The person that brought you into the library did a really terrible job," they stated bluntly as they tightened the knot before releasing. They turned away to tidy up the table as Ash sputtered in offense.

"Hey, my friends tried their best and it was an emergency! Like, what? There's supposed to be some sort of orientation here so you can use the library and/or stay in it?" Ash waved their hands a little, swayed by the emotion they were feeling. Min and Alison tried their best, goddamnit, and they weren't gonna let some random person just insult them like that! They were Ash's friends!

Not-Atticus only stared blankly at Ash at their outburst. Unreactive as ever before they blankly replied. "Yes."

"...That was sarcasm."

"My answer will not change."

Ash Gallagher belongs to @ask-the-anomalous-linguist

Part 7 [finale]

[writing-and-raving]

Long time no fic, huh? Lemme fix that

"Dance?" Deimos asked, distracting Prides, who was rummaging through his inventory while they were both visiting the H.E.L.M. He only gave a small laugh as Prides looked up, looking very hesitant to answer.

"Really?"

He played innocent, tilting his head. "Please?"

He got his way, as Prides walked over with a sigh. He was content with being led, about to remove his mask to rest his head on his partner's shoulder before Prides spoke up and distracted him.

"Must you keep your face that close with that mask on?" That startled Deimos so badly, he nearly pulled away, before laughing.

"Kith?" He asked, exaggerating a lisp.

"With that mask?" Prides answered. "Absolutely not."

"What's wrong with my honk moon?" He giggled, Prides's fingers linked around his own tightening in response.

"It's awful."

"So, no thmooch?"

"No!" Prides said, nearly yelling. The lisped question odd enough to pull a laugh from the Warlock.

"Not even a peck?"

He couldn't help but smile when Prides groaned, pulling away to remove his helm. The look he was thrown was absolutely worth it, when he removed his own mask.

"You're awful." Prides told him, as he was pulled in.

He smiled, pulling Prides down by his collar and into a kiss, nearly sighing into it as it was early returned.

"But, you love me." Deimos pointed out after pulling away, something Prides wasn't able to argue with. It was obvious he knew it, too. The Warlock's nose scrunched up as he looked away, a blush dusting his cheeks and nose.

What Prides did after looking back surprised him, the Warlock pulling him into an aggressive kiss, hard enough to definitely leave his lips swollen and raw for a few days. After breaking apart, with Deimos thoroughly flustered, Prides looked incredibly smug as he chose to respond.

"I do," he agreed. "And you're lucky I love you."

[idatenjumpfanatic]

Hot Chocolate (Gabu x Makoto)

Aight, as the poll dictates, here's a Gabu x Makoto oneshot I wrote back in 2020, now posted here in Tumblr!

As per my old A/N, the two are 15 y/o

Also, I'm not taking more requests, sorry! I just saw a long discussion about this ship so I figured I would bring this here too for those interested

Word count: 3.7k

=================

"I'll be out in a bit!"

Makoto ran downstairs, throwing a scarf around her neck while putting on her mittens. "Where are you going?" Kyoichi asked concernedly as he walked out of the kitchen. Makoto didn't even look at him as she rushed to put on her boots.

"The new candy store just opened yesterday, and Sho told me they're selling my favorites, so I have to go," Makoto explained.

"The dagashiya from the next block?" Kyoichi asked.

"Yup!"

Makoto stood up, putting on her sling bag over her shoulders. "All right, but hurry back, the snowstorm's about to hit anytime soon," Kyoichi advised. Makoto bade farewell once more before heading to the garage to take her MTB. Years may have passed, but her love for MTB never faltered, and the feeling was mutual for her brother and friends. Quickly she rode off, plunging herself into the chilly winter world outside.

It was Christmas break, and everyone in the neighborhood seemed to be enjoying the calm afternoon. It had snowed for quite some time already, so it was the opportunity for the people of all ages to unleash their creativity in the white snow all around them... or simply avoid the cold outdoors and stay inside.

After a few minutes, Makoto stopped in front of a store. It was evident that it was new, seen from the balloons that framed the entrance and the large speakers that blared nostalgic music. Without a doubt, she was there, and surprisingly enough the dagashiya was much larger than a typical neighborhood candy store.

She put her Neptune in the bike parking before heading in, grateful to have her face be greeted with literal warmth. Inside was much bigger than it looked, with a sign of an arcade leading to the stairway at the side. "Can you even call this a dagashiya?" Makoto wondered. There were children of all ages swarming the place, overwhelmed by the practically limitless choices of snacks to decide on.

However, tempting as it was, Makoto brushed these other options aside and began searching for the ones she was familiar with; she knew well enough that a lot of people, especially those within her age range, would flock into dagashiyas im search of their childhood candies, so she didn't want to waste time on exploring before the nostalgic ones ran out.

As she went through the store, she found some of the sweets that were on her mental list and took them, and she was quite happy with this. Though, her satisfaction was not met until her eyes fell on a particular chocolate-strawberry bar, and it was the last one, too. Makoto stared at it in awe, before she broke into a gleeful grin; if she were to rank sweets, this one would surely top on her list.

"Nope."

Just as Makoto was about to have that blissful moment of having such a beloved candy wrapped around her fingers, someone else had managed to snatch it before her. She retracted in surprise before whipping her head at the culprit that separated her from the chocolate.

"Hey, that's mine!"

Gabu gave her a scoff. "Yours?" he questioned mockingly. He waved the bar in front of Makoto like a flag of victory. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm the one who got it first, so it's mine," he stated proudly. He gave the candy another good look before stashing it in his basket. Makoto growled, mentally cursing the redhead before her.

"You don't even like chocolate strawberry," she grumbled angrily under her breath.

Gabu smirked, enjoying the sight of the fuming girl. Dare he even say that he found it... cute. "So what? I take whatever I want since I can, so deal with it," he shot back, pushing back the last though he just had. No way would he admit that! He turned around and left to scour through what else the dagashiya had to offer. Makoto huffed as she crossed her arms, disappointed to have failed to get the candy bar.

While Gabu walked around, he spotted a particular blue box that stood alone in a shelf. His eyes widened in surprise, for it was none other than a a pack summer-special orange flavor pocky sticks. "It's not even summer," Gabu breathed. The idea of getting a rare seasonal candy was appealing for him, though.

He quickly reached for the box, but before he could get his hands on it a purple gloved hand managed to take it before he could. "Oh wow, it's the limited-edition Brazilian orange pocky!" Makoto gasped. She then shot her head up, giving Gabu a teasing close-eyed smile as she tucked the box in her own basket.

"Sorry, but this is mine," she said, "thank you for showing me, though!"

"I found it first!" Gabu complained.

Makoto opened her eyes and readily put out her hand. "Then, let's trade," she offered. Gabu clicked his tongue, annoyed to have fallen for the girl's schemes. If anything, he refused to succumb to any of what was happening. "The choco strawberry for the orange pocky," Makoto insisted, her smile never leaving.

She was aware that she had the upper hand as she knew Gabu had a taste for both minty and tangy sweets, just like how he knew that chocolate strawberry was her absolute favorite. How they found out, it was through a long and heated argument about candies that they had years ago, and since then neither of them had forgotten.

"I'm not playing your games," Gabu denied, his voice hinted with a bit of bitterness. "You can have that damn box of sticks."

Makoto frowned, a bit taken aback by the refusal. "Well, I'm not going to stop bugging you until you agree," she pointed out. There was a visible drop of sweat that rolled at the side of Gabu's face as the boy gave her a half-lidded stare.

"You must really want this chocolate," he muttered.

Gabu then whirled around, shocking Makoto even more. "Then suffer," he told her plainly. He then began to walk away, but Makoto followed close behind to continue proposing her offer. After a few minutes of being stalked, Gabu was starting to get annoyed by the constant tail that he had been ignoring the whole time. With a groan, he gave in.

"Fine."

He stopped and took out the candy bar. Makoto lit up like an excited puppy at the sight of the chocolate finally being handed to her, but just as she was about to take it Gabu pulled it away. "The pocky," he demanded in a monotone. Makoto let her expression drop before rummaging through her basket and taking out the box of pocky.

"Same time."

At a mental count of three, the two simultaneously put out the candies for trade, and with their free hand, grabed a hold of the other sweet. Having satisfied to get his favored snack, Gabu went off to the counter. However, he caught Makoto still following him.

"What are you doing?"

"To go to the cashier, duh."

Gabu flinched a bit, catching up to his own thoughts. He assumed that Makoto wanted something else from him, when really they were just coincidentally heading at the same direction. Flustered, he looked away and hurried to the cashier without a word. Makoto wasn't numb to this and noticed Gabu's sudden freeze, but she brushed it aside.

"Oh dear, the storm's coming."

Both Gabu and Makoto's ears perked at the clerk's comment. "Let me finish this up quickly, so you kids can go home before you get stranded," the clerk told them worriedly. She scanned the items in quick succession, and as soon as Gabu paid she began to scan Makoto's. Deciding it was a faster way, Gabu bagged up his goods on his own, to which the clerk was visibly relieved at.

"But what about you?" Makoto asked.

"I still have to close up the store, but I'll be fine sweetie don't worry."

While the clerk was punching in the payment, Makoto felt her phone ring in her bag. She quickly answered it, and she was immediately greeted by her brother's worried voice.

"Makoto, are you not done yet?"

"Just paid," she reported. "I ran into a little problem earlier..."

At that note, she lightly glared at Gabu, who raised a brow at her in return. "Has the storm hit there?" Kyoichi asked. Makoto looked outside through the glass doors, where she could see the snowfall slowly getting stronger. "Not yet," Makoto told him.

"Well it has here."

"Already?!"

"And I'm not quite sure how far in the storm is here. I would advise you to head home now, but..."

Kyoichi's voice trailed off, hesitancy clear as a sunny day. Noticing the worry in Makoto's face, Gabu decided to speak up. "What's the hold up? Expecting me to bag your food, too?" he quipped. Makoto shot him another glare, but answered anyways.

"The storm reached my block, so Kyoichi isn't sure if I should head back now."

"Well I just practically live across the street so you can stay with me and Taiga for the time being."

As soon as he finished his statement, Gabu froze up. The words just slipped out of his mouth that he didn't even realize what he was saying until he said it. He couldn't find an excuse to take back his words when he really meant it. Fortunately though, Makoto was too wrapped up with her own worries that she didn't see Gabu's reaction.

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yeah..."

Makoto gave him a quick hopeful smile, and the sight of it was enough to tug at his heartstrings. He wouldn't dare confess to such feelings, but it would seem that he was too obvious that he noticed the clerk giving him a knowing look.

"Yes, he said he lives here... okay, I will... of course, I love you."

Makoto ended the call, letting out a sigh of relief. "Kyoichi said it's fine, and I'll call him as soon as the storm stops," she announced. "Aight, get your bag and let's get out of here," Gabu instructed. Makoto did so, waving the clerk goodbye as she exited. Once they were outside, the two teens were slapped by the harsh cold winds.

"Hurry up."

Gabu led the way, and not even a minute after they stopped at the gates of a house. He opened the gate and let Makoto inside. He led her to the garage, and at the push of a button the door slowly slid up.

"Gabu, you didn't even bring your MTB, why are you--oh."

Taiga, who was inside the garage tuning his MTB, stopped himself from his nagging when he saw that his brother was not alone. "She's stranded with us for the meantime," Gabu explained flatly, pointing at Makoto behind him with a thumb. "Well, since you're here you handle her right now. I'm heading to the kitchen," he followed, and without waiting for a response he entered the house, much to Taiga's dismay.

"Hello, Makoto. Please, come inside."

Makoto greeted him with a bow before entering. Taiga stood up from his work and closed the garage door with the button inside, keeping any more warmth of the home from seeping out. "I take it you were at the dagashiya?" he guessed, and Makoto nodded. He then ushered her inside, where it was even warmer. While Makoto took off her boots, they talked.

"I'll get you a blanket."

"Thank you Taiga, but that isn't necessary."

"Then, how about staying at the kotatsu?"

"No way, you have those?!"

Taiga chuckled at Makoto's response. "Since Gabu practically ditched you, that makes you my guest," he reasoned out. "So, would you like to?" He didn't have to ask again before Makoto eagerly agreed. He led her to the living room, where a kotatsu was set up in replacement of the usual coffee table. There were cushions around it that served as something to lean on.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll just go get something."

Makoto didn't wait another second and took off her mittens, coat and scarf, which were all starting to turn sticky due to the snow melting off on it. She folded them neatly and set them at the edge of the kotatsu before tucking herself under the table. She immediately felt the warmth of the futon, sliding her freezing arms underneath it as well.

"That's my spot."

Makoto looked up from relishing the hotness of the kotatsu and saw Gabu giving her an annoyed look. In one hand was a can and two mugs with a spoon each, and in the other was a kettle. "I'd apologize, but you leaving me in the cold like that makes me not want to," Makoto pointed out. Gabu's scowl only deepened, but the redhead didn't bother to reply and instead placed the items he held on the table before settling in adjacent to Makoto.

As Gabu popped the can open to prepare his hot chocolate, he noticed that Makoto was staring at him, perhaps since the moment he set the can down. "What are you looking at?" he asked. Makoto jolted, her face flushing once she realized what she was doing. "I was wondering what kind of chocolate that is," she admitted, pointing to the can. Gabu gawked at her, as if he heard the most sacrilegious thing in the world.

"Don't mess with me," Gabu huffed. "You, of all people, would not know the existence of hot chocolate drops?"

Makoto narrowed her eyes at him, seeming more offended by the accusation. "Excuse me, but not knowing one thing doesn't make me an abomination of the candies," she shot back. Gabu rolled his eyes, tipping the can and letting two packs of drops spill out. "So much for a chocolate enthusiast," he murmured.

Makoto was about to open her mouth to retort, but decided against it as she figured she wouldn't go through another lengthy debate about sweets with Gabu; the last one they had lasted for a week. That's how passionate they were with candies, and equally determined to prove their points right as well.

...and perhaps the only way they could find an actual reason to talk to each other.

As kids, neither had any real purpose of interacting. Questions about MTBs? Sho, Kakeru, and Kyoichi would provide for Makoto. Schoolworks? Gabu couldn't care less about it, in contrast to Makoto. Sweets? Now that's the common ground they had.

Ever since their first debate on it, they got that reason. They would bump into each other in just about every place there'd be something sweet; cafes, ice cream parlors, candy stores. Name it, they've met there once or twice, and it would either lead to them arguing which is better or having a discussion without being at each others' throats. Since a time neither could pinpoint, feelings began to creep its way to their chests at the mere sight of each other, but even it was obvious, neither dare admit.

"So is this one for me?"

Makoto pointed to the mug that Gabu wasn't bothering. "Well, duh. You're my guest," Gabu replied as if he was stating the most obvious thing. Makoto could feel her cheeks suddenly warm up, but she hid it away by not so subtly lifting the futon over half of her face. Gabu watched her in amusement, seeing how dumbly was trying to cover her blush. Now, he could tell the obvious reasons for her face turning red, but he'd rather pretend it was from the cold... even if they were already inside.

"Hey, let that go. I'm going to educate you how to make hot chocolate using this."

Gabu hastily pried off the blanket from Makoto's face. With one hand he held hers, while he took one of the drop packs with the other. He placed the pack on Makoto's hand that he held before finally letting go.

"Her hands are freezing," he thought.

In contrast, Makoto felt that Gabu's hand was freakishly warm, like a moving hot compress. It was only for a short moment, but the feeling of Gabu's hand on hers was something she found quite indulging. Gabu was talking about something, most likely about the proper way of melting the chocolate, but Makoto was too absorbed in her own thoughts to actually listen.

Dare she admit, she want to touch his hands again.

"I don't think I have to explain why the milk shouldn't come to a boiling point, but-"

Gabu stopped from his explanation, noticing that Makoto was clearly lost in thought with her distant eyes. "You... weren't listening..." he trailed off, sweatdropping. He was disappointed that Makoto wasn't listening, so he figured to just make the drinks. He poured the hot milk from the kettle and into the two mugs, which already contained the hot chocolate drops.

"Here."

Makoto blinked at the sudden contact of the mug to her fingers, feeling the nearly burning sensation that seemingly thawed her freezing hand. "You'll be fine here, it's not like I'm going to imprison you," Gabu huffed. There was an underlying tone of concern in his voice, and a bit that showed on his face, but he was more of annoyed by the fact he was ignored throughout his explanation.

"That... uh, wasn't what I was thinking about."

Gabu raised a brow at her, unconvinced, as he stirred his drink. "Whatever, just try out the hot chocolate," he replied. "This is one of the best, so I reckon you'd find any bad critic of this." Makoto hummed, feeling challenged by the statement. She picked up the spoon and stirred her own drink, watching as the rich brown chocolate swirled in with the milk.

She then rose the mug to taste the hot chocolate, but then suddenly stopped before her lips touched the rim. "This isn't a trick, is it?" She accused, lowering her mug. Gabu immediately stopped drinking to give her an offended look.

"Last time you made me taste a chocolate you bought, you made me pay for it, literally!"

Gabu opened his mouth to deny, but he slowly closed it as he tried to recall such memory. His face scrunched for a while, and then his lips drew to a flat line as he remembered the instance Makoto mentioned.

"Well, you can rest easy, I didn't plan to do that this time."

"Oh, really?"

"I planned to give you one of these, just didn't expect it to be now."

Makoto's eyes widened in shock. Gabu returned to his drink, but turning away at the same time to hide his tinted cheeks. "Oh... thank you," Makoto breathed, smiling widely. She looked down on her mug, and as she began to drink she savored in the luscious smell of chocolate that overpowered the milk.

As soon as she took a sip, her eyes lit up with surprise. "This is good!" she exclaimed happily. Gabu smirked upon seeing her reaction. "See? And here I thought you'd force yourself to fight against it," he noted quietly.

"Hey, if it's good, I'll admit it's good," Makoto admitted proudly.

After a long silence, Gabu dared to give a glance at the girl beside him. Makoto was evidently enjoying the new kind of hot chocolate, and after a bit she looked over to the window. Her joyous expression suddenly faded, changing to a more dejected one as she watched the storm ensue violently outside.

"Still worried, huh?"

Makoto tore her gaze away when she felt something warm envelope her hand that laid on the table. She looked down at her hand, then up to Gabu. The boy had his eyes closed, and from the way he held her hand she knew that he was unusually tense. "Look, we have no clue how long this storm will last, but Taiga contacted Kyoichi already, so he knows you're safe here."

"I'll make sure of it."

Makoto stared at him, at a loss of words. She was touched by such a sincere assurance, but her silence was only making Gabu more anxious. "That's... well, if it's you, then I'm not that worried at all," she finally mustered to say. Gabu, with his ever growing blush, willed himself to open his eyes, and what greeted him was something he could only call enchanting.

Makoto was smiling warmly, her brown eyes gleaming with such softness. She gently placed her other hand on top of Gabu's, and the reassuring act was enough to put the both of them at ease. Gabu let out a breath, relieved that he didn't embarrass himself. Though, with his nervousness gone, he realized that he made such a direct move.

Having no excuse to break contact, Gabu opted for the best choice he could think of at the moment and immediately yanked his hand away. He coughed through his fist and awkwardly looked away. Makoto, although taken aback by the sudden action, couldn't help but giggle at his fiddly behavior.

"While you're here, and since we just came from the dagashiya, I wanna see what you got from there. Definitely nothing better than what I got, that's for sure."

Recovering from the sweet moment earlier, Makoto narrowed her eyes as her lips curled to a challenging smirk. "Oh, I'm confident with my candies, that's for sure," she declared proudly. Gabu returned the grin.

"We'll see."

As the two started their debate, Taiga chuckled silently, for he'd been watching them from the staircase the whole time. "I'm glad to see your attempts have become successful, brother," he laughed quietly before standing up. He knew Gabu had been purposely going to the same places that Makoto went ever since he started to have a liking for her, but heavens forbid him to be honest with himself from the very beginning.

[ask-yakov-feltsman]

The Ugly Christmas Quilt

Every year, when the nights got a little more chilly and warm beverages brought everyone together, Yakov got to brush up on his sewing. He'd grab the scissors and start hacking away at the itchy fabric he was forced to wear only hours before, creating a scraggly addition to his Christmas quilt.

You see, this all started a few years ago when all the skaters decided to compete to find the ugliest sweater to gift their grumpy old coach. It's almost like they thought he'd catch the holiday spirit if the deer or snowman stared into his soul long enough.

And for around a week straight he was forced into the festive monstrosities, face as red as that one deers nose. Tortured with trees, deers, and sparkling flakes, just because he couldn't deny his skater kids

This went on for years, until he had stacks and stacks of festive vomit pushed back to the corners of his closet, and slowly creeping back towards the front.

So now, every year, his skater children get a pair of ugly mismatched mittens or one of those ridiculous pom pom hats, and he gets a few more squares to add to the itchiest blanket ever made.

It may feel like you're laying in a pile of ants surrounded by beehives, but that's just all the love trying to escape through the stitches.

[the-unknown-mystic-godex]

A little something I have been working on!~~ If you want to hear me ramble about my Aus and ideas go over too a-mystic-goddex-fandom-lair !~