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firaknight · 4 years

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So this is basically PMD x Kirby

(Here’s a key: pink is the name of the character, green is the Pokemon they chose, blue means male, pink means female, purple is the description of design changes)

So, before I explain who gets who, Adeleine sets up a few rules/guidelines for everyone.

1: The couch. Adeleine and Ribbon live in a cottage on the outskirts of town and therefore have a small house. When everyone’s there, she has a set seating system: tall people (DDD, herself, Daroach, etc) have to sit on the couch or in the general back. Short people (basically everyone else) sit in front of the couch and around the floor (she gives them pillows and floor seats of course)

2: No repeats! It’s to help her remember and also to not cause confusion or arguments. Nobody gets to have the same Pokemon as someone else (the only exception being if they plan to evolve them into a branching evolution, like Gardevoir and Gallade in the Ralts line)

3: Personalize! Everyone gets to add design changes to theirs (cut ear, different patterns, accessories, etc) to make them their own! They also assign genders to theirs and if they can’t decide, dice are rolled. Odds for male, evens for female (they can choose not to, but the vast majority were like “yeah whatever let’s just give them a gender”).

Ok onto the actual Pokemon

Adeleine: Chikorita, female, wears a scarf (part of the in-game story) and has a multicolored head leaf! Also had a small crystal hanging from her neck!

She saw the design and called them a “tiny dinosaur with a big leaf” and immediately decided on them. She loves them to death and thinks they’re the cutest Pokemon on the planet.

Ribbon: Fennekin, female, wears a scarf (part of the in-game story), has fur that is more pink than red, and wears a huge red bow! Also has a small crystal hanging from her neck!

Couldn’t choose the same Pokemon as Adeleine and thought Fennekin looked beautiful (she was even more excited when she saw the final evolution). She also has a type matchup with Adeleine and absolutely takes bullets for her to keep her from dying.

Kirby: Eevee, female, white fur is tinted pink, has blue eyes instead of brown, and wears bunch of colorful accessories like bows, bracelets/anklets, and collars!

Couldn’t decide on the gender and the dice rolled female! He doesn’t care and loves his Eevee!!! He likes how soft they look and how they have different evolution!! It’s like his copy abilities!!! He’s stuck trying to figure out what to evolve them into tho.

Dedede: Piplup, male, wears a big robe and hat, body is a slightly darker and more vibrant blue, and is a little chubbier!

He convinced Adeleine to take on a more difficult dungeon request for this (she got a big dinner at the royal table and got to stay the night in one of the royal rooms out of it though so it was worth it) and after a near 2 hour run and almost 3 game overs, she got it. Dedede only wanted it because it’s the only penguin Pokemon in the series and he wanted a big penguin like himself!!!

Meta Knight: Ralts (Gallade), male, wears a mask like his own, has more jagged blades, and wears a cape!

Only picked them because they saw Gallade and said “yeah that’s gonna be me” and didn’t wait for an answer. He likes their arm blades and the fact that they have a mega evolution (even BIGGER blades!!!!!!! A big tattered cape!!!!!! Badass looks!!!!! What’s not to like!!!!)

Bandee: Karrablast, male, wears a blue bandana, body is orange instead of blue, stomach is cream instead of orange, and has a tiny spear (this is later removed when they evolve)!!!

They saw Escavalier and got super excited!! Double spear arms!!! Armored and tough looking!!! They like how tough they look and 100% chose them for that reason only (although the Pokemon kinda grew on them over time). Not ultra tough right now but they’re getting there!

Marx: Sableye, male, gems are basically mirrors, wears a jester cap like his own, and has only 2 claws instead of 3!!

He likes how fucking creepy they look and how their mega evolution has teeth. It’s a very specific detail they will absolutely drill into why they like them so much. They also like how powerful they can be if used correctly!

Gooey: Goomy, female, body is shades of blue instead of purple, has a tongue that noticeably sticks out!!

He originally wanted Ditto but then they saw Goomy and felt a certain kind of love for them. He also couldn’t decide and the dice rolled female! He likes how the name is similar to his own and how they’re goopy like him!!! They’re also super squishy and he is too!!!!!!

Rick: Dedenne, male, tail is shorter, body is similar in color to him, has beans!!!!!!

He likes how they’re kinda hamster-esc!! They have electricity too which is hella cool. They look kinda soft to him and he was mildly upset over them not having paw beans and demanded that Dedenne be given justice by having them drawn in (Adeleine totally agrees to this). He likes to think they’re mega soft like himself!!!

Kine: Magikarp, male, slightly flatter, blue instead of orange, larger fins!!

He couldn’t choose a Pokemon and eventually just settled on Magikarp because he thought they’d be ok. Didn’t realize they evolve into such a big Pokemon until they saw what it looked like in one of the dungeons. The keep bragging about how powerful they’re gonna be when they finally evolve, but nobody is taking him seriously because he can only use 1 move as of now and hasn’t reached a point where he can evolve yet.

Coo: Hoothoot, male, body is purple instead of brown, has spiked feathers on his head, has a softer and fluffier appearance!!!!!

It’s an owl. He wanted to be an owl. He reeeeaaallly wants to evolve because Noctowl looks way cooler but he’s fine with what he’s got for now!!! He has a speed based build because he can fly very fast :)

Dark Meta Knight: Noibat, female, monochromatic colors with some red mixed in, mask with a scar, tattered wing membrane!!!

Purposefully decided on having a femal because he thinks it kicks ass a little more (also he loves his adopted daughter and decided that would be badass too). Built like a fucking assault tank but with speed. He absolutely leads the charge when he’s playing and takes every fucking hit possible if it’s aimed at his daughter. Gloats about his badass evolution and how fucking sick it looks despite having not evolved yet.

Daroach: Sneasel, male, wears a cloak and hat like his own, has yellow and longer claws!!!!

He didn’t like any of the existing rats and said “lemme get a thief pokemon” and settled on Sneasel. They have a team called the Squeak Squad and it’s comprised of his Sneasel and the squeaks own copies of the game! They play together in their free time and Daroach had Adeleine grab him a Sneasel so he could play on her copy too.

Magolor: Inkay, male, wears a blue cloak like his own, has yellow eyes!!! (The cloak doesn’t really fit until Inkay evolves)

Physically couldn’t choose and then someone showed him Inkay and he said “oh! I fucking hate them.” It was only until they showed him Malamar that he said “oh they look like they’d backstab someone. Perfect.” He likes how fucking ominous they look and how they would 100% be a supervillain given the chance. His Inkay is a good guy tho don’t worry.

Taranza: Joltik, male, has tiny fangs and little horns that grow out when they evolve, wears a cape, has little gloves on their hands!!!

He wanted Flabebe because of the flowers but was told someone already took that one and decided he’d take a spider Pokemon! Almost settled on Ariados but then saw Galvantula and got super excited. He likes their fuzzy look and thinks they are a lovely Pokemon!!

Susie: Gothita, female, eyes are gradient blue with no pupils, has pink accents on the head, more modern appearance!!

She couldn’t find any pretty ones with tech on them but liked Gothita! She thinks they look ok and Adeleine was nice enough to invite her over for PMD game day so she joined in. Her Gothita is surprisingly beastly and is a heavy hitter! However she also gets her ass kicked really fast because Gothita isn’t built for up close heavy hitting.

Zan Partizanne: Shinx, female, wears the same clothes as her, has more yellow on her!!

She really liked how Shinx looks. Tiny electric kitty puppy thing! She wanted to name it after some kind of thunder deity but wasn’t able to (she probably had a name for it tho). Speedy little powerhouse who looks adorable. Continues to tell Adeleine that she’s only doing this to repay her debt (and also for insulting her hairline) but is really just enjoying herself.

Flamberge: Fletchling, female, wears the hat and ribbon-like shawl, has spiked feathers that stick up a lot like her hair, more vibrant red!!!

She fucking loves this little bird. Like. A lot. Something about them is just so awesome to her. Maybe it’s because it evolves into a giant fire falcon but who knows! She just loves them and cherishes them with all her heart. BEGGED Adeleine to recruit them and managed to convince her (she had to offer up making her a cool sword to get it. Adeleine accepted the deal almost immediately because cool ass sword).

Francisca: Vanillite, female, wears the hat and shawl, has more vibrant blue, ice cream part is the same color as her hair!!!

You know exactly why she chose this one. Ice cream baby!!!!!!!! She thinks they’re lovely and wants a plush of them super bad (they don’t make them yet but merch happens eventually!). She jokes that they have an ice cream stash they live in.

Pitch: Pidgey, male, green in color!

He got to join in after the other animal friends told him! He’s good friends with Adeleine (all the animal friends are) and she let him pick a Pokemon! He doesn’t play as much because he has to use his little feet’s but he does his best!

Nago: Glameow, female, body is orange and the ears are brown! Eyes remain closed instead of open to reflect his design!

He wanted it to be a girl just because. He says it’s because it resembles his girlfriend a teensy bit (just in coat color really) and he loves her a lot. Little bastard cat causes trouble on adventures and purposefully runs off to look for the stairs by himself without any incentive from Adeleine.

Chuchu: Frillish, female, wears a small red ribbon and has a more vibrant pink body!!

Couldn’t choose originally but settled on Frillish because it’s the closest thing to her. Nicknamed it frilly and likes to cause problems. She’s got a pretty decent move set and knows how to kick ass with it tho so she makes up for her trouble with that.

Queen Ripple: Flabébé, female, wears glasses and has black ear frill things, wears her crown, and wears her dress!!! Flower is white!

She gets to play too!!!!! Adeleine offered to let her have a Pokemon and she plays though wireless connection! On a very rare occasion, she makes a trip out to Popstar for a week or so and gets to play during then! She has a lot of fun and adores the design for Flabébé so damn much (plus it’s fairy type and that makes her very happy)!!!

#fira knight screeches #fira makes braincells #long post #OH YEAH BABY ITS DONE!!!!#yes there’s some oddballs in here I love all equally and they all get a chance #Void gets to play too but it’s not until a lot later when they get reincarnated so Adeleine gives them more choices (they pick a legendary)#they like to play but get really confused so they typically just go on the shorter expeditions that only take a couple minutes #Hyness doesn’t play because he doesn’t have the comprehension for it #no braincells in that man #he’s supportive of it tho #anyways HI EVERYONE ITS DONE!!!!!!!!!!

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funeral-clown · 5 years

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for @demibuckybarnes what is a birthday? a miserable pile of presents given two days too late

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The strange thing about Gotham was how it affected your sleep pattern.

You could simultaneously sleep through a bomb going off a few blocks away, and wake up at the slightest rustle outside your window.

The quiet and reserved citizens slept at night, the rowdy and bloodthirsty slept during the day, and the wise rarely slept at all. With all the smog, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference anyway.

Champ slept a devil’s slumber, deep and dreaming, unbothered by guilt or fear, every time they remembered to sleep. Their bunker had no windows. They were not asleep right now. They were creeping through the dark parts of the city, dodging the troublesome elements of the streets easily enough and slipping past the criminal element. It was the daytime, all the criminals awake were either rich or desperately poor. Neither were something they could put a stop to.

They sidled closer to their goal, scarf wrapped warm and thick around their face, warm knit cap pulled down over ears and nearly over eyes. Their fingers were bared by the ratty gloves. The door’s bell merrily announced their presence to those inside. They ambled to the door with grim purpose, a look of fierce determination in their eyes.

“Hello,” they said cheerily, “I’ve come to pick up an order?”

The bored man behind the counter nodded.

“Name?”

“Pennyworth.”

He grunted, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a white box. Placing it on the glass counter, he flipped the lid up for a moment before quickly, delicately placing it back down.

“Wasn’t easy, gettin’ it done like that.”

They hummed, an acknowledgement.

“You were paid well enough, weren’t you?”

He grunted, his own acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your tip.”

The man’s dreary countenance brightened somewhat.

“Be careful lugging that thing around. Don’t want anything.......destroyed.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” they delicately took the package into their own hands, nodded at the man, “These are some of the most careful hands in Gotham.”

The man merely grunted again, and tactfully made no response to that. Truthfully, he had none. With the gait of an altar boy, holding something holy and delicate, they made their way out of the shop. The man watched idly as they began their journey, before grunting again to himself and flipping his magazine back open, once again settled into his boredom.

Meanwhile, Champ made their way down the street, hands cautiously continually readjusting themselves. Too tight, and it could cause a problem. Too loose, and they could drop it, and cause a REAL problem. Too shaky? Another potential problem. They had a ways to take this haul, and mostly on foot. Champ couldn’t deny the weight of the responsibility on them, but running errands for either of their fathers came with risk.

They nudged their ear with their shoulder, muttering into the comm unit.

“Jason. Package obtained. Delivery in progress.”

There was a muffled crackle in their ear before a reply.

“Acknowledged. Eyes are on the target. They don’t suspect a damn thing.”

“Easy, J-man. Let’s not get too cocky.”

“This from you?”

Champ let out a short harsh laugh, still cautiously maneuvering down the street.

“This isn’t our usual gig, Todd.”

“No,” came a terse reply. “This isn’t.”

“Wow,” came an unexpected third voice, “You guys sound so intense. What is this, a Bruce Impression Contest?”

Champ groaned.

“Tim, how can you even say that? On this, of all days.”

A cackle came through the line.

“Figured you could use the levity. I’m on the roof, by the way. To your left. See me waving at you? I’m here to take care of any distractions.”

Champ carefully eased one hand from the box to flip off the roof.

“Other left.”

Champ sighed.

“This is why I work alone, Tim. You’re the distraction.”

“Oh so this IS a Bruce Impression Contest?”

“How’d I do?”

“Needs a bit more bass.”

“My voice can only go so low, would more gravel suffice?”

“Guys,” Jason interjected, “Focus. Besides. My Bruce Impression is way better.”

Twin scoffs came through his ear piece.

Allison was having a very strange day.

That in itself was not so unusual, life in Gotham was strange even if you didn’t have vigilantes crawling through your windows at all hours of day and night.

And they rarely remembered to wipe their feet.

It was the vigilantes themselves that were making today unusual. Notably, the absence of them. Most days, she couldn’t wake up without someone crashing their way through the kitchen, or snoring on the couch, or -god forbid- bleeding in the bathroom, trying to stitch themselves up with dental floss.

(Why dental floss, when she had asked Champ, had been answered with to keep their flesh wounds minty fresh. She had thrown a bar of soap at them and called Alfred to take them home.)

Today, when she woke up, it was to a clean and empty apartment. It was unsettling.

More unsettling when she came into the kitchen and found it, not only un-ransacked, but cleaner than when she had fallen asleep. There was a plate on the table, held under a cloche. Curious, she lifted it to find an assortment of breakfast, as well as a small note.

‘The first of many gifts. A.’

There was a small flower laid in between the cutlery and the orange juice. She lifted it up, touching the soft petals.

“Huh,” she muttered.

A knock came at the door, suspiciously soon after she had finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.

It wasn’t a surprise when she opened it to find Dick waiting. It was a surprise that someone had actually knocked.

“Is this a parallel universe?”

Dick frowned, head cocked to the side.

“Don’t think so. Why, has anyone tried to homoerotically recruit you? That’s usually my tell.”

“That happens to you in this universe.”

“Beauty is a curse.”

“What’s going on, loser?”

He grinned.

“Can’t tell, or secret snipers will kill me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, really!” He walked the the small window in the kitchenette and waved cheerfully at the top of the adjacent building. A small red dot appeared on his shoulder. Allison opened her mouth to ask more, then firmly closed it lest she say something inciting.

Are we okay, she mouthed.

Dick winked.

Jason. Laser pointer.

Allison groaned, then shoved his shoulder while he laughed.

“I was really worried!”

“So am I! He still might really shoot me, it’s Jason.”

The laser made it’s way from his shoulder to his head, blinking playfully. She rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

His grin went loose and lopsided, entire body relaxing into it. He gave a short, theatrical bow.

“I’m here to escort you through the day.”

“You’re gonna walk me to work?”

His face filled with sorrow.

“I regret to inform you that you are very sick.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re extremely, contagiously ill and you therefore cannot make it into work today.”

“Dick-”

“In fact, we’ve already called ahead and told them. You forwarded them your doctor’s note even.”

“Jesus.”

“No, it was Barbara.”

“Dammit, Dick, what’s going on?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes like a child.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises!”

“I know,” he lilted, before grabbing her hand and coaxing her to the door, “So we’d better hurry up and get through it all so we can get the surprise part over with!”

Groaning, she relented.

When they finally made it to the house, Alfred ushered them in through the back door.

“Dick’s dragging her all over town doing touristy shit,” they reported dutifully, “and I got the package here unharmed.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That,” he chided, though not unkindly, “Remains to be seen.”

Flushing under their scarf, they placed the box on the table. Gently, the butler lifted the lid. Champ and Tim’s breath was caught in their throats. Alfred looked nonplussed in that exact shade of unbothered that meant he was two seconds away from a heart attack. With the easy precision of a man well acquainted with weapons, he eased it up and deftly set it away to inspect it’s contents. Champ’s heart hammered in their throat. He sighed, and they felt their body freeze.

“I’m s-”

“It’s perfect.”

They paused.

“What?”

“Perfectly well done, dear. Not even any smudges along the edges.”

They let out a proud cry of delight, jumping up and down happily before grabbing Tim in a hug and dancing him around the kitchen. Alfred watched patiently at the two laughed and spun. Bruce ambled in nonchalantly, eating an apple and nursing a black eye.

“Take it the cake got here alright?”

Alfred nodded.

“Hmm.”

He sunk back into the shadows.

They spent the rest of the day preparing the mansion, hanging decorations and hiding presents and bothering Alfred while he cooked until he chased them off with a wooden spoon so they would go and clamber on Bruce instead. Midway through the afternoon Jason showed up, informing them all that they had another hour.

By the time Dick sauntered up the steps with Allison in tow, the entire house was dark and still. This is and of itself was unnerving, as lately the place was usually crawling with extremely loud and energetic people.

“Is anyone home?”

Dick shrugged, grinning.

She creaked open the back entrance. The house had several entrances, the back one being the entrance into the kitchen, originally designated for servants and food delivery in such a way as to be discreet. Now it was merely the family entrance. And also where the food delivery happened. The more things change the more they stay the same.

It was dark, and quiet, and Alli got a sudden impression that it was filled with unseen life. Before she had time to be scared, the lights turned on and loud noisemakers came from everywhere. Champ grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around in a happy hug.

“Dude, did you think we’d forget your birthday?”

Alli laughed.

The whole family was there. Clark smiled politely from the table. Bane was tucked into a corner, glowering calmly with a small but very brightly colored party hat that suggested he was here at Champ’s insistence and determined to enjoy himself. Talia leaned against him. Bruce sighed as the robins all flitted around the room with noisemakers being as loud as possible. Jason grabbed Allison from Champ and gave her his own spin. Dick silently slipped his own party hat on from his pocket, standing next to Alfred with his hat. The house was instantly transformed into a bright and colorful whirlwind of warmth and laughter and food. Allison laughed, steadying herself against her friend.

“Thank you all, for this. Thank you.”

A round of raucous cheers and kazoo noises greeted her.

“But there’s something I have to say, and please know that nothing will change what you’ve all done for me.”

An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd.

“I love you all so much, and this means more than I could possibly say.”

Jason hid his grin behind his hand.

“But my birthday was two days ago.”

A stunned silence rushed the room. It was broken by Jason’s loud laughter.

“They were so sure,” he wheezed out, “They were so proud of themselves I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them.”

Champ punched his sternum.

“DAMMIT.”

Allison laughed.

#happy uhhhh belated birthday babe

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imaginarydaydreams · 6 years

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Another Autumn, New Beginnings

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Pairing: Saeran x MC - Autumn Date Written: 10/3/18 Thoughts: For the @2019loveforallseasons Mysme Calendar! Not gonna lie, I had a hard time writing this due to personal and health reasons, but I hope you guys enjoy the taste of the changing seasons! Also thank you so much to my collab partner, @heyasa17, for their beautiful art that gave me the motivation to revisit this piece ;u; You’re the best; thank you so much and it was such a pleasure working with you!

Autumn. The time of year in which the seasons begin to shift from the hot summer days to the snowy chill of winter. When the leaves, once lush green, exchange their hues for the warm and vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows that flutter to the ground. It is said that autumn often brings forth welcomed changes. The color shifts in the trees as they prepare for their slumber during the winter is often celebrated, people from all over coming to watch this fantastical event. And in preparation for the incoming holidays, there are special events or signature items that trend. All for the sake of basking in the chilling of the weather for colder days to come. However, to Saeran, autumn represented a completely different change. One that is far from what is typically thought.

Both he and his beloved MC were strolling through the park, side by side, arms littered with various shopping bags from their date in town. Holding a steaming cup between her hands, her eyes darted back and forth between the tall trees that surrounded them, watching as the breeze carried warm hues through the wind before gently drifting them down upon the soft ground. His gaze was trained on her, love and adoration shining in his eyes as he reached an arm over to pull her closer and wrapped their shared scarf slightly tighter to protect against the drafts. She simply smiled at the gesture and snuggled into his side, careful not to spill her drink. "Another season has passed, my love," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple as they continued to walk, bundled next to each other as the leaves crunched under their feet. "So many things have happened in these last few months...and with the leaves changing color, it only serves as a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life." She merely hummed, taking another sip from her cup before looking up at him. "Oh? And what are those things?" "Well, for starters," he said, shifting some of the bags in his arms and reaching a finger over to tap against her cup, "I now know what the famed 'Pumpkin Spice Latte' is, thanks to you." She giggled and playfully batted his hand away, turning away from him to take another sip. "Hey, don't you dare go making fun of my favorite drink," she said through her laughter, "It's really good, I swear!" She tilted her cup towards him, almost inviting him to taste the rich flavors of her fall-festive drink. He leaned towards the cup, accepting the invitation. But right as she was about to hand it to him, he tilted his head up towards hers, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss that only served to tint her cheeks the same shade as the crimson leaves. When he pulled away, there was a mischievous grin plastered on his face, running his tongue over his lips to taste the lingering sweetness. “Hmm, you’re right. It does taste good.” “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” She playfully shoved his shoulder, the sounds of their laughter echoing in the space between them. The trees carried their laughter on the winds, filling the air with joy appropriate for the season. Autumn truly was a time of change, but it was in that moment that Saeran realized just how much his life had changed upon meeting her. After all, it wasn’t long ago that he sat in front of a myriad of computers, letting his hatred fester and fuel him to work beyond what any normal person should endure. It was all for their Paradise, he had told himself as his fingers danced across the keyboard. And the harder he worked, the faster his Savior’s goals would be achieved. But it was only after she had come to Mint Eye that his life turned upside down. Before, the world had seemed cold, stained in only monotones—greys, blacks, and whites were what composed Saeran’s little world and he was content in living as such. Just content that he was able to be useful to those closest to him. But she had managed to bring with her the colors of spring, summer, autumn, and fall—the swirls of seasons that he never thought would be so rich and beautiful. Their whirlwind romance over the course of those eleven days painted the world in such a new light; he never wanted to let go of the colors, chasing after her light as she guided him away from the darkness. And now, months later, he felt like he was staring at a completely different future from what he imagined. His hair, once a pure snowy white, was back to its original fiery red while minty eyes shone like the sun with their honey golden hues. He never thought that he would receive the love and affection he craved for so long. Hell, he didn’t even think—after abandoning his old identity of the weak boy who loved the sky and flowers—that he would return to such a state. He wasn’t lying when he had called her his angel. Having her by his side was a blessing, in all sense of the word. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Speaking of having her by his side… When he was finally pulled out of his reveries, he noticed the lack of presence next to him. The scarf felt colder, as did his hand, almost as if something, or someone, was missing. Saeran panicked, looking around rapidly for his missing love. He only zoned out for a few seconds--at least that’s what he thought--so she shouldn’t have been able to get far? Right? A tight feeling in his chest began to constrict his breathing, his anxiety starting to get the better of him, when the clear sound of her joyous laughter rang through the silence. His eyes quickly traced the sound, feet seeming to move on their own, as he followed the sound of her voice. Past the colorful trees, to the left of the benches, and in a...pile of leaves? Sure enough, he found her resting in a large pile of fallen leaves. The bags she had been carrying, along with her drink, had been carefully set on the ground next to her. But there she lay, hair spread out in a halo decorated with scattered oranges and yellows. A serene, closed-eyed smile graced her features as sweet giggles left her mouth, almost as if she, too, was amused by the childish antics that she had just done. And with the light of the sunset softly illuminating her facial features, she seemed to absolutely radiate with youthful warmth. She looked absolutely happy, at peace. A true angel come from heaven that somehow graced him with her presence every day. A slow blush rose to his cheeks as he basked in her beauty. The look on her face practically screamed adorable that he just...couldn’t help himself. She was just too beautiful for this world. Quietly, he set his bags down next to hers and pulled out his phone as to not disturb her. He brought up his camera and quickly snapped a picture, desperate to not miss this moment. However, much to his chagrin, the sound of the shutter cut through the tranquility and her eyes snapped open, meeting his wide gaze with an equally confused look. “Did you just...take a picture of me?” She questioned, lips pursed and eyebrows slightly furrowed. She shifted to sit up from her position, gazing up at him as he stood speechless, silently gawking at her and trying to grasp for an answer. Welp, he was a dead man. He didn’t know exactly how to cover what he was doing, nor did he really want to lie to her. But what was he supposed to say? “I...couldn’t help myself,” he mumbled, sticking his phone back in pocket. A hand reached behind his head, nervously pulling at the baby hairs and rubbing his neck. “You just looked so adorable that I just really wanted a picture to capture the moment. I’m sorry.” Wait. Shoot, he said that out loud, didn’t he? His eyes darted back to meet hers, his blush growing rosier as he just stared at her. A soft shade of pink began to tint her cheeks, a shy smile spreading across her features. He sputtered, trying to clarify that he wasn’t trying to be weird--“Anything but that, MC, I swear!”--and tripping over his own embarrassment that he didn’t notice her slowly standing and reaching out to take his hands into hers. It wasn’t until he felt her breath tickling his ears, the sweet sound of her laughter ringing through the air, as he was being pulled forward. He barely had enough time to register that the two of them were falling--her pulling him with her as she leaned back--until the soft poof of leaves flew around them into the open air, drifting down to scatter across their figures. He didn’t realize his eyes were closed. But when he opened them, he saw that she was still clinging to his arm, her body nuzzled up against his side as that silly smile was still plastered across her face. She was staring intently at him, mischief dancing behind her eyes as she reached over to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You dork,” she murmured, snuggling closer to him, “if you wanted a picture, you should have just said so. After all, you still owe me a selfie together.” She wiggled around, moving this way and that, as she dug around her pockets before pulling out her phone. Her smile brightened as she scooted closer to him. With one hand holding the phone raised above the both of them, slowly positioning them into frame, her other hand reached for his. She rested her head against his shoulder, her pinky finger reaching out to wrap around his own, as she grinned, clearly happy with the image. “Alright, ready? In three, two...one!” As the shutter of the camera clicked, their pinkies intertwined in a silent promise, the both of them beamed. Like this moment, now preserved within their shared memories, the renewed promise of their love for each other would forever remain constant against the changing seasons.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme fanfic #saeran choi #saeran x mc #mysme saeran #mysme ray #stories weaved from the stars

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pantstomatch · 7 years

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msdistress said: I saw that civilized werewolves being super competitive when it comes to other packs, and now I can only imagine an AU where (adult) Stiles and Scott are renting a house together, and Derek moves in the same area. And while the McCall pack and the entire Hale pack (Talia, Laura, etc.) are on civilized terms, Scott and Derek just can’t help themselves. And maybe a part of the showing off is actually a way to impress (court) Stiles, as in “My lawn ornaments are much nicer than his!”

So this is kind of that, but kind of not? This is pretty silly :) Happy Halloween!

“You’re not dead,” Stiles says as Scott bangs open the door and shucks off his shoes in the next movement. They hit the wall and then bounce into an ungainly pile in the middle of the hallway that Liam will no doubt trip over when he gets home.

“Nope,” Scott says. He looks confused by that part.

“So… That’s good?” Stiles has pumpkin guts all over his hands, but offers Scott a fist bump anyway.

Scott follows Stiles back into the kitchen and then plops down across from Stiles’s half-finished jack-o-lanterns at the counter. He’s a couple weeks early, but Halloween has to be taken seriously. These are practice pumpkins.

Scott says, “It was weird. I think they’re all models. They force-fed me pie.”

Stiles arches a skeptical eyebrow.

“I mean, the pie was great,” Scott says, face screwed up. “I think they were happy I ate the whole thing?”

Werewolf metabolism, Stiles thinks sourly. He’s getting to that age where he has to watch his beer and pizza intake. It sucks. He says, “I’ll make them brownies,” and then apparently it becomes a thing.

Stiles doesn’t know if the Hale pack are actually all models, but they’re definitely taking the supernaturally hot thing to a whole other level.

Scott’s betas are reasonably attractive, sure, but Liam’s the size of a cave troll and Mason’s on this whole hippie-chic kick that makes him look like a train hobo.

Stiles holds out the plate of brownies and tries not to stare at Erica’s boobs. Boyd has the bulging chest of a roman gladiator and Stiles could cut his hands on Isaac’s cheekbones, it’s insane.

Stiles says, “Nice to meet you guys,” and Erica’s lip curls up and her hands hover around the plastic-wrapped plate like it’s made of poison and-or possibly oatmeal. He waggles the plate back and forth. “Promise they’re wolfsbane free.”

And then Jackson fucking Whittmore comes swanning down the staircase and Stiles says, “You’ve got to be shitting me. Jackson?”

“Stilinski,” Jackson says with a scowl.

“Lydia told us you got eaten by a giant lizard.”

Jackson scowls harder. “Fuck off.”

Stiles would like to say that the addition of Jackson makes the pack less appealing, but despite having the personality of a canned ham, Jackson still looks like he was carved out of marble. Balls.

And then someone says, “Do I smell chocolate?” from behind Stiles and he definitely does not jump three feet into the air, but it’s a close call.

He flinches and spins around and says, “Fuck my life.”

The hottest mountain man Stiles has ever seen is frowning at him and Stiles wants to bury his entire body in his beard. He wants to weasel his way under that soft-looking Henley and lick his collarbones. Stiles is ninety-nine percent sure this is Alpha Derek Hale, even though Scott had failed to prepare him for the way Derek’s eyes are eating Stiles’s soul.

Stiles wordlessly holds out the plate of brownies.

Derek takes them with a resigned silence. No one else is saying anything either, and the back of Stiles’s neck is starting to prickle with unease. Are they going to eat him now? They’d moved into town so Liam and Mason could go to the local college, expecting some kind of resistance, territorial posturing, possible brawl for dominance, but Scott had been tirelessly optimistic—even more so since the pie eating thing.

Stiles slinks around Derek, hands up. He says, “I’ll just, uh… leave now,” and backs down the sidewalk so he can see any kind of attack coming. He’s got a taser in his back pocket and he’s not afraid to use it.

The Hale pack all watch him with narrow, calculating eyes and Jackson gives him the finger.

Stiles thinks that if this is the way they react to brownies, he’s going to bake them a motherfucking cake.

Originally, Stiles thought it was a giant mistake on Scott’s part to rent a place nearby the Hale pack house, but now Stiles thinks it’s good to be able to keep an eye on them. They’ve never had to deal with another pack so close before. It’s both nerve-wracking and exhilarating, and Stiles tries not to think too hard about why and focuses on the important stuff: decorating for Halloween.

Stiles starts out with three jack-o-lanterns in front of their modest little pack house, but when he sees Derek staple-gunning orange lights around the entire front of their porch, he comes home with a six foot dinosaur skeleton with glowing red eyes.

“You spent actual money on this,” Scott says, hands on his hips. He doesn’t seem mad, just sort of baffled.

Stiles very carefully doesn’t tell him that it cost almost two hundred dollars. They don’t have ‘pack money’ and Stiles has a very good job, but there’s spending money on a video game and then there’s buying a giant skeleton that’s probably going to break the minute Liam tries to ride it.

Stiles can’t exactly explain it, the way Derek was aggressively hanging lights and glaring at him. It could have had something to do with the way Stiles was openly gaping at Derek’s butt when he was at the top of the ladder, but Stiles is going to up his game anyway: no one actually hangs Halloween lights unless they’re going to war.

Scott would probably not appreciate Stiles telling him this, though.

Instead, he pats the dinosaur’s back fondly and says, “He was on sale.”

Five days into October, Stiles blearily makes his way into the kitchen at seven AM to find Liam, Mason and Kira halfway through a giant dish of lasagna. They have full forks and zero table manners.

“Seven AM?” Stiles says, pouring himself an enormous mug of lukewarm coffee because he lives with heathens. “Where did that even come from?”

Mason mumbles something about a handsome roman gladiator while shoveling pasta into his mouth.

Kira says, “I want to marry this. I want to have this lasagna’s babies.” She stabs Liam with her fork and flashes orange eyes when he goes for the corner of the dish she’s staked out.

Liam says, “Did you just hiss at me?”

“If you marry this, I’m gonna eat your babies,” Mason says, and Stiles moves forward curiously, taking a deep sniff but careful not to get too close—he’s pretty sure Kira will take out his eyes.

Steam is still rising off of what’s left. Someone got up super early in the morning to make this fresh. Huh.

So they’re resorting to full meals now. Stiles can deal with that.

Stiles bakes a cake. Three layers of chocolate with vanilla pudding in between, and he covers the whole thing with an entire can of orange icing, using Oreo cookies to make bats. He also makes a cheesy chicken casserole in Boyd’s lasagna dish and has Mason take them both over in a wagon.

Stiles peeks through the window shades and gleefully watches Isaac open the door.

“What are you doing?” Scott asks, coming up behind him to peek too.

Stiles rubs his hands together and says, “Winning.”

“Winning what?” Scott says. He’s adorably befuddled, and Stiles pats his tummy and says, “I’m not sure, but whatever this is, I’m really good at it.”

“Is whatever this is why we have an entire ceramic haunted town on the front bow windowsill now?” He waves his hand to where Stiles is carefully kneeling in between a giant light-up Gothic mansion and a half-ruined churchyard.

“Exactly,” Stiles says.

Derek’s yard is now riddled with headstones that have each of his betas’ names on them. Cool, but not cool enough. Stiles is going to go with an undead army, he just has to convince Scott to sign up for Amazon Prime.

When Mason finally turns around he’s got a dazed look in his eyes and what looks like a homemade scarf wrapped around his neck. Damn it. He’s underestimated Isaac.

“Scott, buddy, you’re gonna have to learn how to knit.”

“What? No,” Scott says.

“Crochet?” Stiles says hopefully. “Cross-stitch?”

“No,” Scott says, but he scruffs a hand through Stiles’s hair. “I think Liam knows how to latch hook?”

“Everyone knows how to latch hook,” Stiles says, but he places a curled finger over his bottom lip and hmmmms. Liam is very impressionable. “Would you call Liam artistic?”

“Uh, no,” Scott says, “but his enthusiasm will probably make up for it.”

“Right,” Stiles says. He’s gonna need some red paint and a lot of old clothes.

“What is supposed to be happening here?” Derek says, standing on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing some kind of fleece lined flannel jacket that is fucking with Stiles’s head. He wants to slip his hands inside and around and have Derek try and button it around Stiles’s back like some sort of comfy two-man cocoon.

Stiles rolls his shoulders and resolutely turns away and really takes in his masterpiece. “It’s the undead rising to defeat the skeleton army.”

“Is that one riding a dinosaur?”

“Yes,” Stiles says proudly. “If you walk past it, it cackles.”

It’s only October 10th. Mrs. Carbunkle to the left of them has stopped speaking to them completely. Scott’s the only one who complained about it, though.

Derek has an enormous blow-up spider that he’s somehow managed to attach to his roof, and someone rigged up his lights to a sound system that plays This is Halloween.

Stiles finished a carved pumpkin that is, quite clearly, Derek’s face. It’s prominently placed at the top of the front steps.

“I’m finding this incredibly satisfying,” Stiles says, grinning over at Derek.

Derek has the flat mouth of a man who’s trying very hard not to smile. There’s pink on the tips of his ears.

Derek says, “Last year we put out a bowl of candy and a sign that said ‘Go Away.’”

“Classy,” Stiles says, grinning even wider.

“I hand painted those tombstones,” Derek says, tilting his head toward his yard.

“I’d make fun of you, but that dog skeleton over there is made up of squeaky bones that I glued together.”

Derek chuffs. Not even his beard can hide the way his cheeks bunch up when he smiles. “It’s a very good dog.”

“Is there any other kind?” Stiles says.

Stiles becomes acutely aware that Derek and him are just staring stupidly at each other when Kira clears her throat from the top of the driveway and says, “Uh, Stiles? Your boss is on the house phone.”

“Shit.” Stiles is, technically, supposed to be working. He should probably take that. He waves at a still adorably amused Derek and then runs for the door.

Kira says, “These are the cutest cookies I have ever eaten in my life.” There are crumbs all over her sweater and icing smeared over one of her cheeks. She’s halfway through a plate of ghostly sugar cookies. When Mason comes near her she throws one of them at him and then mourns the loss with a, “Oh, darn it.”

Liam says, “I think those were for all of us,” but backs off when Kira bares her teeth at him. Stiles is unsure whether a wolf or fox is more vicious, but Kira’s the only one of them that also owns a deadly sharp weapon, so.

Mason holds up a little card and says, “This says they’re for Stiles, Yukimura.”

Stiles grabs for the note and smiles down at the little, “for Stiles,” and “-D” and then shoves it into the top pocket of his flannel. He says, “That’s okay, she can keep them,” and thinks about how hard it would be to make cinnamon rolls from scratch.

“Aren’t gingerbread houses a Christmas thing?” Scott asks, leaning his elbows onto the counter and resting his chin in his hands.

“Not gingerbread murder houses,” Stiles says. He’s putting the finishing touches on the little Jackson werewolf, sprawled out on the ground with his guts spilling everywhere. He’s using spun sugar.

“Huh. Why don’t you and Derek just do this together?”

“What?” Stiles straightens up, blinking at him.

“I mean. He likes you, you like him.” Scott knocks their shoulders together, grinning.

“He doesn’t like me, Scott,” Stiles says, cheeks heating. “We’re in a competition!”

“Right,” Scott says skeptically. “That’s what this is.”

“Yeah!” Stiles hunches his shoulders up around his ears and ignores the fact that his entire face is probably red by now.

Scott wrinkles his nose. “A competition.”

“That’s what I said.” Little Jackson keeps trying to fall apart, so Stiles lets it crumble—he can just add more blood.

“Right,” Scott says again.

The lengthy silence after that is damning, but Stiles is totally not going to talk about how Derek might like him. He’s not twelve. He’s gonna paint a sugar glaze on this thing, put it on Derek’s front stoop, ring the doorbell, and then run away.

Derek tops off his cemetery by adding stone-like walls and an archway that is, somehow, twined with real night blooming flowers. It’s impressive.

“I’m impressed,” Stiles says to Jackson.

Jackson sneers at him and says, “Who cares?”

There’s also a witch on a broom hanging from a big oak tree, and some kind of animatronic black cat that—

“Holy shit,” Stiles says, backpedaling away from where the cat jumped up and lunged at him. Stiles clutches at his wildly beating heart while Jackson nearly busts a nut laughing.

“I almost fucking peed myself,” Stiles says indignantly, while the black cat winds himself around his legs in greeting.

The front door of the house flies open and Derek appears like an avenging angel, chest heaving, wolfed-out. He says, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jackson has his face covered, hysterical.

Stiles says, hands flailing, “Did you buy a cat for this?”

“Did I…?” He trails off, staring at Stiles with crazy eyes. The beta change melts off until he’s normal, stern-looking, hot Derek. He looks from the cat to Stiles to the cat and then back again before saying, “We’ve had Jinky for five years, Stiles.”

Jinky? Stiles thinks. “You named your cat Jinky?”

“Erica named the cat Jinky,” Derek says, stomping down the steps to pick him up. Jinky goes boneless in his arms, instantly purring, and Stiles stares at the big hand Derek splays over Jinky’s belly. It’s a good hand. It would fit nicely all over Stiles’s body. Yep.

“Um.” Stiles is having trouble concentrating.

Derek says, “Are you here for a reason?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean…” Stiles looks down at his shoes and tries to remember why he came over here in the first place.

It’s the middle of October. He’s three days behind on his latest work project. There’s a huge pumpkin that cost him fifty bucks waiting to be carved in his kitchen. What was he doing here?

He says, “Um,” again and presses his palms to his cheeks, mind completely blank. Then he takes a deep, bracing breath. “Right, yes, this is,” he waves an arm around, “really good, Derek! Like, super good, I’m gonna go—”

“Jesus Christ, Stilinski,” Jackson says, now done with laughing and just staring at him like he can’t believe Stiles is upright, walking and talking.

“Oh, fuck off,” Stiles says, and then marches back across the street to his own much better decorated yard.

Stiles comes home from the supermarket on October 21st to the entire pack lying in wait for him in the den. Allison and Lydia’s faces are even on separate laptops propped up on couch cushions in between Scott and Liam.

Stiles freezes in the doorway and says, “Is this some kind of intervention?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says carefully. “Do you think you need an intervention?”

“No!” Stiles has this thing with Derek perfectly under control. Obviously. He did not just buy ingredients to make even more fake blood.

Scott nods his head. “Okay. Then this is about the Halloween party next Saturday. Allison and Lydia are driving down!”

“Are we sure that’s wise? What with,” Stiles makes fangs with his fingers, “you-know-who and L-Y-D-I-A?”

“I know about werewolves, Stiles,” Lydia says dryly. “And also how to spell my own name.”

“Did you also know that Jackson Whittmore is in the Hale pack?”

Allison says, “I thought Jackson was eaten by a giant lizard,” but her eyes are sparkling.

Lydia purses her lips and says, “I am a grown woman, Stiles.”

“I know you.” Stiles points a finger at her. “There will be bloodshed.” Jackson broke up with her via text in high school before his family moved away. He’s a spineless asshole.

“He’s a werewolf. He’ll heal.” She’s got a dangerous but pleased look in her eyes. She nods at him and he winks back, because she knows he’ll help hide the body.

“All right, so, Halloween party.” Stiles drops down into a chair. “Are we adulting or slumming it with Liam and Mason’s friends?”

“Everyone’s invited!” Kira says with jazz hands. “I’m making jello shots.”

“Not everyone is twenty-one,” Stiles points out. They’ve never had to really worry about that with pack, since none of the werewolves can get drunk anyway.

“The neighbors are invited,” Scott says, straightening up into Pack Dad mode. “And Liam and Mason can each have one friend.”

“Balls,” Liam says, scowling.

“Adulting, cool,” Stiles says. He rubs his fingers together, already thinking about candy, and bobbing for apples, and scaring the shit out of Jackson. He’s gonna need lots of sheets. And fake eyeballs. And spaghetti.

“Sexy or scary?” Stiles says, holding up a Little Red Riding Hood costume in one hand and a distressed mummy one in the other.

Mason makes a face. “Overdone,” he says, pointing first to Little Red Riding Hood and then to the mummy, “not scary.”

“Overdone can still be sexy,” Stiles says, frowning down at the skimpy little dress. “I can wear heels!”

“You do not want to wear heels,” Mason says. He’s wearing a Tina Turner wig and Hulk hands, but he’s got his serious business face on. “Nobody wants to wear heels. Heels disintegrate your toes over time and ruin your arches.”

“While I have no idea if that’s bullshit or not,” Stiles says, “I’d only be wearing them for a couple hours.” Stiles had been leaning toward the mummy outfit, but now it’s a matter of principle.

Behind them, Stiles can see Liam pretending to make out with a Freddy Krueger mask. There are several hovering employees with mixed reactions.

Mason says, “It’s a cliché.”

“It’s only a cliché because it works!”

“That would only make sense if werewolves were openly known,” Mason says.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “The same could be said about your argument, dumbass.”

Why is this a thing that’s happening? Why did he bring Mason and Liam with him? Why did he bother to ask Mason anything at all? Liam’s going to get them thrown out of the store, and Mason is a terrible judge of costumes.

Liam runs up, flushed and bright-eyed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He says, “Stiles, please, please,” and holds up a ridiculous red, black and white costume. “I will give you fifteen dollars if you wear this.”

“Twenty, and you can’t get the money from Scott.”

“Deal.”

Despite anything that Scott says, Stiles thinks the fog machine was money well spent.

“You can’t even see the yard anymore!” Scott says. “The entire Quince family fell into a horde of zombies!”

“So maybe I need to turn it down a little.” Stiles kind of tossed the instructions somewhere and forgot about them, but it’s probably pretty easy to figure out, right?

It’s 8:15 on a Saturday night, the neighborhood kids are all in the backyard getting an impromptu archery lesson from Hawkeye, Stiles has already soaked himself trying to get three apples out of a barrel with his mouth, and none of the Hale pack have shown up yet. Stiles is in no way anxious about that at all.

Instead, he crouches down by the totally awesome fog machine and starts poking at it indiscriminately. It sort of beeps at him, like an angry robot.

“What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a ladybug,” Stiles says absently, fiddling with the side knob—is it getting even more foggy?—before registering the looming leathered presence of Derek Hale. He sees his black sneaks and cuffed jeans first. And then the belt, tucked in white t-shirt, beardless face.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, head tilted all the way back. He’s sort of struck by the dimple in Derek’s chin, the cut of his cheeks and the awkward jut of his ears under slicked hair. Stiles is in awe, he wants to press his hands over his jaw and see if it’s as baby smooth as it looks. “Are you Danny Zuko? Please, please, please tell me Isaac is Sandy.”

Derek rolls his eyes, grabs Stiles’s arms and hauls him up to his feet. “Isaac isn’t Sandy.”

“You’re lying,” Stiles says, curling his hands around Derek’s wrists to steady himself. “Oh my god, this is the best day of my life, does he have on a crop top?”

“Stiles,” Derek says, glancing around the yard. “Is it supposed to be this smoky?”

“It’s fog, Derek, atmospheric fog,” he steps back out of Derek’s hold and waves his hands around, “to really set the mood on this spooky All Hallows’ Eve.”

“It’s the 28th.” Derek has this look on his face, like he’s amused but trying not to be. He eyes Stiles up and down. “You’re not even a zombie ladybug.”

“Yeah, no, why would I want to dull down this sexy little number?” Stiles pats his stuffed hips.

“You look like a donut with antenna.”

Stiles frowns. He looks adorable, thanks very much. He says, “And you look like a…” Sexy greaser werewolf, basically, but Stiles isn’t sure he wants to give Derek that kind of ammunition.

After an only slightly uncomfortable silence, Derek says, “Boyd made profiteroles.” A curl of gelled hair falls over his forehead. Goddamnit.

“Boyd can suck my dick,” Stiles says, awkwardly creasing his ladybug costume as he crosses his arms.

“Don’t tell him,” Derek says, grinning a little now, moving closer so his chest brushes Stiles’s forearms, “but I like your brownies better.”

“Are you saying I win, Hale?” Stiles says. It’s dark, and the Halloween lights are muted around them, but Stiles is pretty sure Derek’s newly shaven cheeks are pink. It’s a novelty.

Derek sighs heavily. “I’m saying this fog’s as thick as peanut butter, and I want to kiss you where the Quince family can’t see.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve been conscripted into the undead army,” Stiles says faintly. Kiss him. Huh.

“Good to know,” Derek says, and then cups his hands around Stiles’s face.

Stiles holds his breath.

From the front of the house, Scott yells, “Stiles, just turn it off before we lose even more children!”

“Even more,” Derek says, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s…concerning.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says. He can feel his heart beating in his throat. “Do you want to kiss me or not?”

Derek’s expression goes strangely serious; the strategically placed spotlights make his eyebrows look like bat wings, and his mouth parts slightly to reveal the cutest bunny teeth known to mankind. It’s incongruous, especially when you factor in the level of hotness Derek exudes on a daily basis.

Stiles says, voice nearly a whisper, “I bet your chest is super hairy.”

“What?”

“Never mind, crap,” Stiles says, and then fists Derek’s tight white t-shirt and kisses him instead.

Vaguely, Stiles registers Liam yelling, “Onward, mighty steed!” a howling crash, and Scott’s pained, “Oh no,” but Derek has his hands wormed inside his giant foam shell, so he really can’t be assed about it.

Derek says, “Should we turn off the fog machine?” in between sucking bruises along Stiles’s throat.

Scott’s voice rises over the engulfing fog, “Stiles! Off!”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the only way we’re going to get out of here alive.” He tugs at the short hairs of Derek’s nape. “Let’s go make out in your graveyard.”

“We have leftover lasagna,” Derek says, threading his fingers through Stiles’s and then dragging him through the yard, deftly dodging skeletons and tiny screaming kids.

“I know what you’re trying to do here.” Stiles hooks his free hand into the back of Derek’s extremely tight pants as they sneak onto the open sidewalk. “You already admitted I won, big guy. You can’t beat me with reheated heaven.”

Stiles takes a deep bracing breath of clean air, fog clinging to their legs as they start to stagger across the street. In front of the Hale house, he grabs onto Derek’s wrists and walks backward to hitch his butt up against the fake cemetery wall surrounding the yard. He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, forcing him to lean down into him, caged between his knees.

“Uh, Stiles?” Derek says, arms braced on either side of them.

The wall creaks ominously underneath him.

“This is styrofoam, isn’t it?” Stiles says, and then the wall rips in half and Stiles goes sprawling back on his ass, pulling Derek down with him.

Stiles wakes up to off-key warbling and the intoxicating smell of bacon and coffee. He stretches and groans. There’s a warm arm thrown over his middle, he can feel Derek smiling into his nape, scraping his skin with a truly astounding amount of stubble for having shaved the day before.

“Are you a yeti?” Stiles says, and Derek’s soft laughter rumbles all along his spine.

He says, “Erica’s making pancakes. Do you want bananas or chocolate chips?”

“The clear answer is both,” Stiles says. He flops around onto his back, struggling his way out of the blankets tangled over his legs, and then jabs a finger into Derek’s nose. “You’re still not winning.”

“Of course not,” Derek says, expression soft and fond. Stiles doesn’t trust the misty-eyed bastard for a second.

“I’ll have Scott make empanadas for you, don’t think I won’t!”

Derek nods solemnly and says, “We’d be honored.”

“This is some sort of fucked up werewolf crap, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, suspicious.

“Isaac says breakfast’s almost ready,” Derek says, tilting his head in an I’m listening to the cosmos way. “We should get dressed.”

“You didn’t answer.” Stiles sits up, watches Derek slip from the bed with a healthy appreciation for his bare ass. “Am I gonna have to start saving up for Christmas lights?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says with a grin, “depends on whether you think I found someone willing to rent me a reindeer.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, clambering out of the bed. “All right, Hale,” he says, just as Derek slips into the hall, laughing. “You’re going down.”

#msdistress #tumblr prompt #sterek #halloween #there's food decorations and love #and skeleton dinosaurs #and liam #god sorry I edited something and my read more disappeared and I realized it way toolate #tumblr prompts

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lottiethroughthelookingglass · 4 years

Text

‘Sunburnt Country’ Chapter 2

Everyone makes mistakes when starting a new job. For new God Jack, sometimes your mistakes are realising an ancient and great evil. Thankfully, he’s managed to contain his spill to the continental Americas. His dads may want to help but Jack is determined that they stay retired. Keeping them out of the latest apocalypse is going to take drastic measures. Hopefully a trip to the other side of the globe will be enough to keep them out of the way.

aka

Season 16 but let’s just set in Australia

on ao3 | chapter one

Take me back to hell. At least it was cooler there.

It had been three hours since Jack had dropped them in the middle of nowhere. Not just nowhere, Dean had decided, but the worst nowhere ever dreamt up.

There was red dirt and blinding blue-white sky as far as the eye could see. It was a struggle to even see that because the sun was so friggin’ bright. Had this place ever heard of clouds? It should really get onto that. Even if Dean did manage to keep his squinted eyes open, there was nothing much to see but heat haze and yellowish trees and shrubs. Surely that wasn’t healthy - plants that dry should just give up and die. After five minutes in this place, Dean sure wanted to.

So maybe it wasn’t The Hell, he concluded, but it sure as shit was hell on Earth. Freaking Australia.

They headed in a general easterly direction after Cas had made some remarks about “the East Coast” and “population density”.

After about an hour of walking, Dean was kind of hoping Sammy would have arrived at one of his bright ideas. Unfortunately, the only bright thing around here was the sun. His brother looked thoroughly out of his element, the back of his shirt already soaked in sweat under a layer of flies. Apparently being a walking lore encyclopedia didn’t prepare you for being dumped in the middle of Australia. So now Earth Hell had broken Sam. Freaking Australia.

Four weeks. Four weeks. It had started to feel like it was too good to be true. Four weeks since they’d defeated Chuck, since Jack had become God with a capital G and Cas had come home. The first four weeks of his life where things had seemed ok. There was nothing hanging over his head and he actually had time to breathe. Of course it wouldn’t last.

A massive snake suddenly jerked to life from where it had been sunbathing a few feet Dean. It sped off into the underbrush. Was that a fucking Death Adder? Forget monsters, he was going to die getting bitten by some dumb fucking snake in the middle of Earth Hell. God, what he wouldn’t give to be back hunting hillbilly vampires in Bumfuck, Ohio right now. At least you don’t accidentally step on vampires.

At some point they’d all ditched their seasonally appropriate autumn layers and stripped down to t-shirts. An hour in, Sam had made them stop and apply a generous layer of sunscreen which Jack had mercifully packed. Sure, they were all going to die, but at least it wouldn’t be of melanoma.

Cas stopped briefly ahead of Dean to wipe the bottom of his shirt across his sweating face. He’d shucked the trench coat after about five minutes of being here. Dean was still getting used to seeing the guy out of his one singular outfit. Usually, he’d be enjoying the sight of Cas all sweaty in just a t-shirt and jeans, but right now he just wanted to die a little. Scratch that, he wanted to die a lot.

Ahead of them Eileen ground to a halt, bent over in exhaustion. Puffing heavily, she signed something to them which Dean didn’t catch at all, but he figured it was something along the lines of “Stop” or “My whole body hurts”. Equally likely was “I too am getting weirdly nostalgic for real Hell and would like to go back there” or “What the actual fuck Jack why didn’t you drop us on a beach? I heard Australia has great beaches.”

Whatever it was Cas at least seemed to get it and signed something back to her.

Dean nodded, it appeared they’d agreed to take a break. Maybe if they waited till the sun set being here might become bearable.

Sam pulled up next to Dean, sweat absolutely dripping off his large frame.

“Did you get that?” Dean asked between shallow breaths.

Sam shook his head, “Nope.” he panted.

“Great.”

Cas and Eileen were retreating off the road, heading towards the shade of a mostly dead looking eucalypt. Dean hesitated. He needed to get out of the sun, but the dying tree looked like it could be a haven for snakes. Then again the entire continent was a haven for snakes, so how much more dangerous could that particular spot be?

“Why the hell would Jack dump us here man?” Dean asked Sam as he collapsed onto the ground.

“I’m sure he has a plan.” Sam’s muttered. Speaking in whole sentences indicated his breath might be returning to him.

“You know I love him and I’m glad it’s him up there instead of Chuck, but the dude is also three. He took his favourite teddy bear to heaven with him.”

“I thought you took that?” Sam responded.

“No. Why would I- I’m just saying that I don’t fully trust he’s not going to accidentally kill us-”

Sam held up his hand to silence Dean.

“But dude-”

“Do you hear that?”

Dean strained his ears. He heard flies, and some weird bird noises.

“No.”

“It’s an engine.”

Sam shushed him again as he began to reply, turning around to look back down the direction they’d come from.

Dean squinted. In the distance a speck of billowing dust was just visible.

“Oh, thank God.” Dean breathed.

“Thank Jack.” Sam corrected.

The cloud of dust slowly grew as it approached them until it became a bright orange Kombi van.

The Kombi van ground to a halt in front of them, obviously surprised to see another living thing in the barren hellscape.

The passenger door flung open to reveal a young hippie-looking woman with a scarf tied around her dreadlocked hair.

“You blokes okay?” she asked with a lilting accent.

Sam’s face broke into a relieved smile, “Yeah, we’re just looking for a ride to the nearest town.”

The woman exchanged a look with the driver of the van – a young hippie-looking man with matching dreads and a rainbow tie-dye shirt. He turned to them with a suspicious look, “How’d you all wind up out in the sticks?”

“We were never in any sticks.” Cas frowned from the back where he and Eileen had joined them.

“Our car broke down.” Eileen supplied quickly, “And there was no reception, then our phones went flat so… could we get a ride?”

The hippies exchanged a quick glance.

“Sure thing!” the woman beamed, jumping out to slide open the back door to the van. The man looked less pleased but said nothing.

The hippies introduced themselves as Kit and Mia. Two English backpackers who, for some inexplicable reason, had voluntarily chosen to come to Earth Hell. Then again, Dean thought as he was jostled on the bench seat between Cas and Eileen, things could be worse. Jack could’ve sent us to England. This was the land of spiders, sharks, snakes and unbearable heat, but at least they weren’t going to run into the pompous dicks known as the British Men of Letters.

Mia supplied Sam with a map, pointing out that they were in the middle of Queensland - one of the more populated states according to Cas. That didn’t say much for the rest of the country.

The map was also used to point out all the exciting Australian tourist spots Kit and Mia had travelled to. They’d just come from a large rock called Uluru, which actually was smack bang in the middle of nowhere. Dean found out that Jack had ditched them somewhere just off to nowhere’s east. Some other exciting rocks they’d seen had been called Karlu Karlu, but by far their favourite was apparently one over in Western Australia shaped like a wave. Dean was beginning to think a lot of the tourist attractions in this country were just large rocks…

The backpackers announced they were now on their way to a campsite outside of Stonehenge and could drop them off in town if they’d like. Dean was not very good with international geography, but he was pretty sure Stonehenge was in England and not the Australian desert. Then again, he did live in a Lebanon in Kansas, so apparently people just weren’t original with names here either.

As it turned out, the Stonehenge they were headed to was nothing like the one in England. Generously called a town, it was more a few buildings clustered around two streets in the middle of nowhere. Population: 30, the hotel was also the pub and the main tourist attraction was “The Address Book” – a dry paddock a few miles out of town where visitors could arrange rocks to spell their names in the dirt so they could feel like they’d left some sort of mark on the uncaring landscape. These strange English backpackers’ rock obsession was clearly getting out of control.

Kit and Mia dropped them outside the rustic looking hotel with a wave before disappearing back into a cloud of red dirt.

“Well, they seemed nice.” Eileen said as they watch the Kombi van disappear.

Nice was the word for people around here it seemed. Nosy was another. The hotel owners – Josie and Johnny – seemed more interested in getting their whole life stories rather than letting them book a room.

Dean stood to the back of the room with Cas letting Sam and Eileen fill Josie and Johnny in on their “holiday trip across the country” and “car troubles”.

Car troubles…

Baby!

He gripped Cas’s arm, “Do you think Jack moved Baby?!” he frantically whispered.

Cas turned to Dean.

“I’m sure he would have…” Cas lied. “Where did you leave her?”

“In the motel parking lot. They’re gonna tow her…” Dean ran a hand over his face, “She’s gonna get impounded!”

Cas looked at Dean. There was real concern in his eyes but also a look that plainly said Dean we currently have more pressing issues with which to concern ourselves than your car, can you please keep it together?

Dean’s imminent break down was interrupted by the squeaking of an opening screen door.

“G’day Josie, G’day Johnny!”

A thickset woman breezed into the room accompanied by the smell of sweat, dust and sheep – or maybe that was just them – and a wide grin under her trucker cap.

“G’day Jen!” Johnny called from behind the desk, “The parts are just out the back. I’ll go grab ‘em.”

Johnny disappeared through a door behind the desk.

“Well hello,” Jen turned to the four of them “Where’d you fellas blow in from?”

“Kansas.” Sam answered.

“Hurricane straight to Oz then?”

“Uh no just-”

“Oh, actually Jen-” Josie interrupted, “Sam, you said your car was a write-off?”

“Yeah, it’s-.”

“You said you had a car you’re tryna get rid of didn’t ya Jen?”

“Yeah, yeah I do…” Jen agreed, “Kid fucked off to Sydney and left me to try and sell his shitbox of a car like I don’t have enough crap sitting round my place. Still runs fine though. It’ll get you out to Longreach at least and you’re bloody well not gonna find anything else closer. Only looking for a couple of K for it anyway.”

“Oh ok, that’d- that’d be great.” Sam said, taking a second to translate her broad accent.

Eileen just stared. Evidently she had not been able to understand Jen at all.

“She’s selling us a car.” Sam explained.

“Oh good. We should take that.” Eileen agreed.

“What model?” Dean interrupted, mind still on his poor baby abandoned and alone in a shitty motel carpark, but he had to be practical.

“Holden Commodore, mid-90s or something.” Jen replied.

Dean nodded sagely, “Ok… good, we’ll take a look at it.”

Jen nodded, apparently satisfied, as Johnny came back out with a large package.

“Parts are all in here.” He said as he passed them over the counter to Jen. “Still want me to come out and give a hand tomorrow?”

“Nah yeah that’d be great.” Jen hefted the box into her arms, “You think you could give these guys a lift out? They’re gonna come look at the Commodore.”

“Yeah course.”

“That would be great.” Sam agreed.

“Well I’ll see youse tomorrow. See ya round Josie!”

“See ya Jen!”

Jen left with her box leaving Sam and Eileen to continue trying to get them a room.

“Is that a good car?” Cas whispered, leaning over to Dean.

Dean hesitated, “I have no idea.” He confessed.

What felt like hours later they finally escaped Josie and Johnny’s interrogations and made it to their rooms. Dinner and breakfast provided by the in-house dining facilities, which incidentally were also the only place in town to get dinner and breakfast, had been arranged courtesy of the managers. They’d also arranged to meet Johnny early tomorrow morning for a lift to Jen’s station.

The rooms themselves were small but sweet. Homey floral bedspreads and wallpaper and, mercifully -air conditioned. Red dirt seemed almost baked into the white tiles of the bathrooms, but Dean was grateful for a place to finally change out of his sweat soaked clothes and wash off the layer of grime that had been covering him since he got there. Good luck to Kit and Mia getting the stench of four sweaty, filthy hunters out of their fancy Kombi. It had taken him 30 minutes in the shower to free his own nose of the smell.

Showered and in clean clothes, Earth Hell felt a little bit less hellish.

He returned from the shower to the welcome sight of Cas and four plates of hamburgers.

“I asked Johnny if we could take dinner to our rooms after our taxing day.” Cas handed Dean the nearest plate. “I assumed we might want to formulate some sort of plan for the coming days without being overheard.”

“You’re seriously the best, man.” He said, taking the plate from Cas.

Cas smiled, “Sam and Eileen will be here in a moment.”

Dean hungrily took a chunk out of his burger. Damn that was… He stopped, pulled back from the burger.

What the fuck is that?

He chewed slowly, “Um, what are these Cas?”

“Johnny said it was “A burger with The Lot.”’

“Is that…pineapple?” he examined the burger more closely. It was leaking purple. “Cas, why is it purple?”

“That would be the beetroot.” Cas said around a mouthful of his own burger.

“Why the fuck is there beetroot on my burger?”

Cas shrugged, “I think I like it. Johnny said it was an “Aussie Classic”’

Dean placed the burger back on the plate and stared out the window. The sun was still over-bright as it reflected off the barren red earth, even this late in the day. Great, so now Earth Hell had even managed to ruin burgers. Freaking Australia. Dean just wanted to go home.

“Ok, so nearest international airport is Brisbane,” Sam sat at the small table in Cas and Dean’s room, laptop open on a flight search site, “Which is fourteen hours away.”

“Wait, there’s no international airport in the state?” Dean asked as he stacked their empty plates onto the corner of the table to make more room. Despite the beetroot and pineapple insanity, all four burgers had been quickly demolished.

“No, Brisbane’s still in Queensland. It’s on the coast.”

“Jesus. Alright, so we buy that car, drive to Brisbane and get the hell outta Dodge.”

Sam frowned, “You do know it’s like a thirty-hour flight back home?”

Confirmation that Jack had dumped them to the literal ends of the Earth “That’s fine.” Dean lied.

“There may be an issue with getting back into the US.” Cas interrupted from the bed where he was perched next to Eileen, their fake passports spread out in front of her.

Sam and Dean turned to face them.

“Why?”

“Because we’ve all got Australian passports. We’d need visas to get back in and I’m the only person who’s a real citizen… or at least not wanted by the FBI.” Eileen explained, holding the passports out to the brothers.

Sam took the passports from her hand, frowning at the golden kangaroo and emu crest under a neatly emblazoned ‘Australia’ at the top.

“But we’re clearly American… And Irish.” Dean argued.

“Yes, but we can’t prove that. And…” Eileen glanced a look at Cas, “Jack’s given us enough so no one will question us being here. But if he really doesn’t want us to leave then I don’t think our identities are secure enough to get us back into America.”

“It’s still worth trying. Jack’s not gonna let us get stuck in jail for trying to get back home.”

“He might if he thinks it’s safer than whatever it is he’s trapped in America.” Sam voiced.

“So we just sit here and wrestle crocodiles and look at rocks or whatever it is Australians do and just hope Jack sorts it out?”

“No Dean,” Cas said, “we’re not just going to sit around, but Sam and Eileen are right. Jack doesn’t want us there right now. Besides, there’s no use running back until we at least know what we’re fighting.”

“Ok great, I’ll get onto researching. Oh wait, all our stuff is in the Bunker, in America, where we can’t go.”

Dean yanked the passports out of Sam’s hands. Flipping over the documents for a ‘Castiel Murphy’ and an ‘Eileen Murphy’.

“What the- Did Jack make you guys married?!” Dean looked up at Cas and Eileen.

“Siblings according to our birth certificates.” Cas replied, “I think he wanted to give us a reason to be all together.”

Dean gave him a dead pan glare.

“Ok, I think maybe we should take a break,” Sam suggested hesitantly, shutting the lid of his laptop. “It’s been a long day… At least tomorrow we can get the car and maybe start heading to Brisbane and see if we can figure out a way to fly home.”

Dean grumbled but realised it wasn’t worth arguing further that night. I’ll be swimming my way back at this point he thought.

Sam and Eileen left for their room with a good night, leaving Dean staring out the window towards the setting sun and Cas staring across the room at Dean.

“The Impala’s going to be fine Dean.” Cas said, interrupting his thoughts.

Dean huffed a laugh, “Yeah I know.”

“We can get Donna or Jody or Claire or someone to drive her back to the bunker till we get back.” Cas continued.

Dean looked up at him, “I’m sorry but there is no way I’m letting Claire drive that car.”

Cas smiled. He seemed to be doing that more often. Dean had never even noticed how little Cas used to smile until now.

Cas came over and sat in the chair where Sam had been and placed his hands on the table. He met Dean’s gaze, seeming genuinely concerned.

Four weeks. Things hadn’t been perfect, but they had seemed damn close. Sure Dean was mad to be stuck in freaking Earth Hell with nosy ass motel owners and no car and a sun that seemed personally out to kill him but… He took one of Cas’s hands in his own. His stomach still flipped a little every time he did that. Here was an ex-angel sitting across the table from him worried about his dumb car and enjoying stupid beetroot-ridden-burgers and holding his hand like they were awkward teenagers.

Here was Cas. Cas who, just over a month ago, he’d thought was gone forever. Dean still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that Cas was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. They were on the other side of the planet and Cas was still choosing to stick with him., but they were stuck there together.

Not that he has any other choice right now, a small traitorous voice in the back of his brain tried to remind him. He quashed it down. Everything was alright. He was worried about Jack and whatever it was he’d unleashed and he sure as hell didn’t want to be here but… compared to the nightmare they’d been living not so long ago, he’d take this in a heartbeat. Sam was here, Eileen hadn’t been Thanos-snapped out of existence and, if he wanted to, he could just lean across this small, stained motel room table in Bumfuck, Queensland and kiss that worried frown right off Cas’s face.

And it was a good thing that at least kissing Cas, even here in Earth Hell, somehow still felt like home.

#spn fic #supernatural #spn #destiel #destiel fic #saileen #my fic

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sakura-soldier · 7 years

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Barry Madison - Avengers OC Uniform

Ok, it's been 1 year since I've drawn and uploaded an Avengers uniform design for Tracey. Fast-forward to January 2016, I found myself having an urge to draw her twin brother, Barry in HIS new Avengers uniform. He was originally a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but he and his fraternal twin sister ended up joining the Avengers sometime after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier (he's also part of the Winter Is Ending series, written by @winter-is-ending/Singer of Water). Back in S.H.I.E.L.D, he was simply known as "Agent Madison", but then a couple years later (read "The Fireman" by Just A Little Birdy on fanfiction.net to understand this pic: www.fanfiction.net/s/11575901/…), he discovered a flamethrower gun during a mission, which originally belonged to one of those cliched mad scientists, and had to use it to fight a monster. Because of this, the internet and the Avengers (much to Barry's suffering) originally called him Fireman, but then Tracey hacked into social media and she christened him with the superhero name Firebrand instead.

Weird thing was, I tried starting this drawing back in January 2016, but that time, I was struggling with how his uniform was supposed to look like AND I got swamped over by homework and stuff, resulting in a huge-ass case of artist's blocks for months and months, so I only finished part of the lineart until just now (late April 2017-Thursday. May. 11, 2017), when I finally got the inspiration and guts to finish the whole thing (even though sadly, it took me about a few months/1 year-ish to even finish). Also, the WEIRDER thing was that, way back before Just a Little Birdy's story was written, I came up with a DIFFERENT superhero name and power/weapons for Barry; I originally wanted to call him Endgame and I planned to give him special gloves/fingerless gloves (?) that would give him the ability to move objects around in thin air with the help of physical motion/gestures and telekinesis just after leaving a signature imprint on it (inspired by video game logic and abilities). Sadly, I had to start my concept over from scratch, as well as the colour palette a few times as soon as Barry became Firebrand (unless like, I don't know, you wanna see Barry as Endgame, maybe?).

So for this outfit, I wanted to give off some kind of connection to Barry's original job as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but since he's an Avenger now (with a new alias, too), I wanted him to prove that he is more independent, less restrained by militaristic or spy rules, and have a sense of freedom and individuality, but still connected to the organization he previously (currently?) worked in. The difficult part though, was to not make it super flashy, let alone make it super obvious that his flamethrower-like gun/fire was his weapon (think Johnny Storm's powers/Fantastic 4 uniform, flame-patterned fabrics and clothing, warm colours like red, orange, yellow, etc..); otherwise, it would make him a bigger target for the enemy to attack or notice him. For Barry's uniform, his jacket (don't worry, he's wearing a short-sleeved top underneath) and leggings could be connected together with tiny metal hooks hooking inside the jacket and legging's waistline, as if it looks like a bodyglove/jumpsuit, but it can appear as separate clothing items as well. They are charcoal black (although slightly lighter) and slightly distressed with a bit of a metallic sheen underneath (you know how some leather clothing would have have shiny, iridescent, metallic layers underneath the original black, brown, or gray colour; it's kinda like that), but it's not too obvious. Believe it or not, the jacket was actually based on a black trench coat I owned, which has a high collar like the one Barry's sporting. The collar flaps, as you can see, can be laid flat like the ones from a leather jacket, rolled up to his neck like a turtleneck or scarf for warmth, or even pulled up to cover the lower half of his face like a mask or scarf for warmth, concealing his identity, or (if Stark Industries or other technology allows it) even acting like a gas mask of some kind. The jacket buttons are bright blue, but they could also be navy blue, silver, or black either in plain or the Avengers logo. There's even a darker black pocket on his left side for extra storage, which I got the idea from after randomly discovering a jean pocket from a denim bag I saw on tumblr. :P Since Barry and Tracey are fraternal twin brother and sister, I wanted to create a few similarities and indications that can imply that Barry's related to Tracey (the two uniforms have slightly loose yet form-fitting jacket, tight leggings, the asymmetrical zipper on Barry's right and Tracey's left, the buckles on Barry's left shoulder/his left and Tracey's right shoulder/her right that are inspired by asymmetrical leather jackets and Bucky's Howling Commando's jacket, belt shape, usage of fingerless gloves, and ankle boots), but it's also easy to tell that they're mostly different (by colour schemes, abilities/strengths/skills/themes, button and belt colours, zipper and buckle positions, silhouettes, belt structure, separate vs. attachment pieces, and shades of black in the leather).

The leggings should provide mobility and freedom to move around (and to give Darcy some secret eye-candy, mmm~), while his simple black ankle boots have flat soles, rather than ones with heels, laces, or buckles, so that they're easy to put on. There's a holster with a pouch on his right left while his belt design is actually inspired by chain belts and this ribbon-like version Dan Kuso from Bakugan: New Vestroia wore as his New Vestroia/Vestal outfit (you're gonna have to look him up though, to get the idea); the "chain" is more of a decoration than anything, but it can be attached or detached from the actual belt depending on what Barry's comfortable with. The fingerless gloves are two separate versions; the "outer" layer is technically part of the jacket is based on atheltic stretch tops, running shirts, oversized sleeves, and Quicksilver's/Pietro's (Age of Ultron version)'s blue Under Armor top, while the inner layer is a dark, inky black and they're actual fingerless gloves underneath, which can be worn together or separately for protection and to keep his palms warm.

Now, the most unique part about Barry's uniform are the flame designs that run down from his shoulders to barely touching his hands, from his outer thighs to his ankles. They don't seem too significant at first, UNTIL you actually look at them more closely. At first glance, people might perceive them as normal swirls, but really, they're stylistic designs of flames (ok, I struggled with drawing actual flames for his drawing that doesn't too obvious, is small enough for the size, AND easier to tell that it's fire, so I experimented with swirls and curves like I did with Tracey's hair and ended up creating my own flame designs, which looks really cool). As for the colours, you'd be surprised at how colourful they looked; depending on how Barry moves around, the lighting, angles, or even his emotions, either the entire designs or the individual flames can change colour, which can vary from blues, whites, traditional fire colours of red, orange, and yellow, or even unusual colours like purple, pink, gold, or green. But why those colours? Well, basically, they represent the physical states of fire, which can change into different colours depending on the chemical compositions of burning material, immediate reaction products, chemicals, and temperature. I recommend looking this up to have a better understanding of flame colours and temperatures: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flame. They also reflect the temperment and unpredictability of Barry's personality inside and outside of his missions. Also, the colours COULD also act like a mood ring, in which the flame colours can change and reflect depending on his emotions and mental state. BUT if Tony Stark, S.H.I.E.L.D, or other kinds of technology could make this possible, then the flame designs would also emit and/or reflect heat to keep himself and other people warm, could light up a dark room like reflective tape/glow-in-the-dark clothes and paint/reflective elements like in Pietro's shirt, AND/OR if Barry got manhandled/grabbed/physically in contact with the enemy (human, monster, robots, or otherwise), he can either unleash his anger as a trigger (like how Bruce turns into the Hulk) or use hidden buttons inside his uniform to make himself burst into actual flames that come out via the flame designs to burn or melt the enemy/enemies, but can be cooled off by self-control/calmness/non-angry feelings or the hidden buttons so that they won't burn his actual clothing. Either of the following options depend on @winter-is-ending/Singer of Water and her choices for future stories.

I also managed to provide colour palettes for the overall outfit and the flames (sorry if some parts are cropped up though; I think my parents cut off part of it with Photoshop without telling me -__-), and I tried to practice the jacket collar in two variations (though it's actually three) and Barry's hair with several headshots. The front view made him look like Finnick Odair (or maybe that's just me?) while everything else is either sticky-uppy or loosy and shaggy. (BARRY MADISON, YOUR HAIR IS AN ABOMINATION!!!! NAH, JK, I LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU HAVE HARD-TO-DRAW HAIR, BRO.) The materials I used were pencil crayons, two different types of pens, a thin fineliner, and a hint of eraser. It took longer to draw Barry compared to Tracey and I had to improve and reinvent a lot of stuff compared to what I originally planned, but I liked the results so far and I hope Mel would like it. *^^*

deviantArt version: http://artist-cupid.deviantart.com/art/Barry-Madison-Avengers-OC-Uniform-Design-680500893?ga_submit_new=10%3A1494763216&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1&ga_recent=1

Drawing and uniform concept design belongs to me, @sakura-soldier.

Barry Madison/Firebrand belongs to @winter-is-ending/@the-melapedes-main-blog (also known as Singer of Water.

Please don't use my drawing or uniform design without my permission first, thank you.

#my art #fanart #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #gift pic #someone's oc #avengers oc #barry madison #mcu oc

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