#red stick moonshine

[arthursfuckinghat]

Michael 'Mono' Wyn

Birth name: Mihangel Wynedd (me-hang-el win-eth)

[thealbatrovss]

wind song // logan(2017) x fem reader

(mini series)

Chapter 1 - blood money

summary: after breaking up over a year ago, you reunite with logan at a diner in Texas. he needs a favor.

warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI - suggestive content, mature themes/subject matters, death, swearing, eventual violence and smut.

word count: 2k+

wind song masterlist // my other masterlist

The coffee was burnt. You pretended to like it that way.

The white mug was too hot to hold with your hands, so you opted for a straw instead. You found it in the corner of the booth. That earned some stares from the old couple eating lunch a few tables over and your waitress.

“That’s gonna melt the plastic right into your drink, you know?” Her Texan accent wasn’t as thick as the other waiters. There was red lipstick on her teeth. “Just wait for it to cool down.”

You picked the plastic tube from the liquid, inspecting it. It was still intact. “Looks fine to me.” And you popped it back in. There were sugar packets on the table. They reminded you of pixie sticks. You started to feel nauseous.

The lady shook her head, putting her notepad with your orders away. “Whatever gets you through the day.” And she left to go get your food. Or complain to her coworkers about the woman melting plastic instead of sugar into her coffee.

You wanted to drink it like normal. But you’d used a similar cup like this before to solve a case a few months back. It just didn’t feel right. Objects never did after they helped you locate the missing person. Another strange aspect of your powers. It’s like the people lived on through their things.

You could see his car pulling in through the driveway. He was right on time. Like always.

All kinds of emotions were running through you. You’d just arrived here out of state for a funeral. You were still wearing the black dress from attending this morning. Logan had called as you debated in your car whether to attend the after-services or not. Guess you got your answer. But it was still a surprising one.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a year. Not since the incident.

The front doors opened, and the bell rang to let everyone know. You sat up a little straighter, nervous fingers folded in your lap.

Logan seemed to bring down the entire room as soon as he walked in. He wore a white tank top, with a white button-up over it. His black suit jacket was covered in specks of dirt and dust. His beard was a lot fuller now, his hair a bit shorter. Both growing gray. It glistened with the beads of something that smelled like moonshine.

For the first time in your life, you could see his age catching up to him. And the exhaustion. It was written on the bags underneath his eyes. In the way he held his aching knuckles to his chest, staring at where his claws hid.

He took a quick swig from his flask, ignoring the waiter's glare from behind the main counter. He was looking for you, drink still in hand.

You let him find you.

“Nice dress.” He started with. Your heart rate increased. You bit the inside of your lip. He still had that gravitational pull that made people want to either run and hide or get closer to him. He slid into the booth across from you. The sugar packets made shaking noises. He left his flask out on the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Your hands played with the black fabric ending at your knees. “Funeral.”

Logan nodded his head in understanding. He took out his glasses, looking at one of the menus.

“Oh, I’ve ordered already.”

“And I’m hungry as shit.”

“I ordered for you.” You emphasized.

Logan paused, staring at a picture of a salad. His eyes peeked out over the menu. “The usual?”

You nodded, swirling the straw around in the cooling cup of coffee. “Most places have what you like.”

He removed his glasses, rubbing at the irritated spot on his nose. “Next time, let me get my own tab.”

When she returned with the food, you ate in silence.

Logan stuffed a plate of sausages in his mouth before finishing attacking the eggs. He occasionally reached for his flask, like it was something he had ordered.

You didn’t feel like eating. The sugar was grinding in your ears. You’d have to take this sandwich to go. The coffee was going cold now.

“So,” you started. You were suddenly aware of how sticky the seat was beneath you. “Why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?” He kept eating. His fork made noises when it hit the plate.

You thought about the weeping mother and the small casket. “Well, it was either this or dwell on my last case. And I’d rather talk with an old friend than think about any of that.”

He stopped chewing, swallowing hard. “Well, then you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Your brows knitted. You leaned back against the headboard. “I’m listening.”

Your ex took another shot of the hard alcohol. It was still the afternoon. But alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on other people. His abilities wouldn’t allow it. But it was still a problem.

He stuffed the flask back in his shirt pocket, only after it was empty. “I’ll make it short. A client of mine owes me a lot of fucking money.”

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

He put up five fingers. You remembered how they used to squeeze your hand in comfort. Sometimes they’d wipe away your tears. Other times they gripped your thighs and pulled you closer.

It was bittersweet. Those sweet and intimate memories. Even as the world continued to go to shit and mutants became less and less, you still had each other. Until something took that all away. You could recall the whistle ringing from your lips. Your cheeks were cold during the early days of fall. Logan was yelling about how you should’ve seen this coming. But he knew how your abilities worked. They didn’t work on the living.

“5,000?” You guessed.

“50,000.” He corrected.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus. Were you his chauffeur or were you sleeping with him?”

He smiled. It was a weak one but it was still there. If you weren’t so used to it you would’ve missed it. “Look, he was a rich asshole who promised me a big tip. That's all.”

“That’s not a tip. That’s my salary.”

Logan set his utensils down after taking one last bite. “Then you need a fucking raise.”

“Or a new profession.” You joked. But it came out flat.

Being a private detective could’ve been a more fulfilling job. If it wasn’t for the fact that your mutant gene gave you the ability to track any person or creature. But only if they were dead.

You’ve worn this dress too many times to too many funerals.

Logan seemed like he was fighting with himself, whether to respond to that confession or not. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled out a fancy fountain pen from his jacket. “This is all I have of his.” He placed it on the table in front of you. “Will this be enough?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. “I haven’t even agreed to anything yet. What makes you think he’s dead in the first place?”

“Because, when he called saying he had the money, I heard gunshots. Then the phone went out. It’s been three weeks.”

“And no one’s reported him missing?” That was odd.

“Nope.” He looked from your eyes to your lips. “He never even told me where he was. I think he was out of state. And before you ask, yes, I already tried to trace the call. Nothing.”

The waitress came by, handing you a to-go box and whisked away his empty plates. Her eyes lingered noticeably longer on Logan as she walked back into the kitchen.

You continued your questioning. “Does he have any family? Maybe they know where he is.”

“No. He told me he was an only child. Parents died by the time he was 40. No other living relatives. People say a lot of shit when they’re drunk in the back of a car. Or just damn lonely.” His hand instinctively went to rest on the flask in his pocket. He motioned towards the pen. “If you need more than this, I can get it.”

You hesitated to pick it up. “You know how much I hate doing this.”

“I know.” He licked his lips, leaning towards you. “Yet, you’re still looking for people.”

It was true.

As much as you hated your powers, as much as they hurt; they could be used to help. Even if that meant only ever bringing people back to their families dead instead of alive.

A quote from your old Professor echoed in your mind. From a time long lost in the unforgiving hands of time and a powerful mind.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing can hurt you. But, it can give peace to the ones that you’re helping. What you give up, you give away. For good or for evil, now that’s up to you.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An old friend was asking for your help. But would he do the same for you? There was a time when you would’ve never doubted it. You hated yourself for that.

The pen felt icy in your hands. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe he was dead. You could already feel something beating through the object. It didn’t feel alive. “When do we start?”

A glimmer of light radiated off of Logan’s rugged face. For a moment there, it was like he was his old self again. The light flickered out just as quickly as it came. “Tomorrow morning. 8 am. I’ll pick you up.” He placed a 20-dollar bill next to your half-empty coffee cup.

You stared at the dead man on the paper. “I’ve already paid.”

“This is for the tip.” He stood, a slight uneasiness in his steps. He seemed so tired.

Were his regenerative powers still getting worse?

He paused before heading out, messing with the cuff of his sleeves. “Don't worry. I’ll make sure you get paid for this.”

I don’t want your damn money. I want to be rid of this haunting.

You let him think you were deep in thought. You tapped your chin. “I’ll take 60%.”

Logan put a hand on his hip. He sighed. “Now don’t piss me off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Would never dream of doing that.” You packed your untouched sandwich away in the box.

Logan cursed under his breath. It sounded like he was muttering between fuck it and fines. When he left the small diner the room felt lighter again.

You watched him drop his keys in the parking lot and stomped them further into the Texas dirt.

“See, I told you!” You turned to your waitress who was pointing at your cup. The plastic was starting to crinkle and melt. You could see it poking out from the brim of the liquid. “Next time, just drink the damn thing normally.”

I would if I could.

Logan was already gone by the time you looked back out the window. The sugar packets shook as you stood to leave. The cup rattled. The pen had a heartbeat. You could feel your powers radiating through the objects.

That night you played with the lamentation on the corner of a photo.

Your motel room was small but surprisingly homely. There was a TV playing at full volume in the room next door. It kept you awake. Sounded like an action movie. It seemed to go on forever.

The photo was of you and Logan. You still kept it in your wallet. It was hidden behind old coupons and a stick of gum. Sometimes you forget it was even there. Most of the time you self soothed by peeling off the lamentation from the corners. The sides looked like the melting straw in your cup of coffee.

It was 9 pm. You ate most of your sandwich. A corner piece sat in the to-go box on your bed. Someone finally shut the TV off. A dog was barking in the parking lot. Cigarette smoke hugged the air. You put the photo back into your wallet, this time behind your credit card.

“Logan’s phone.” You heard Caliban's voice sing through the line. “Sometimes mine if he lets me use it.”

It was nice to hear from him again. A tracker similar to you but only with mutants. He was always mesmerized by how your powers worked. He used to show you the sketches of the figures you blew into the wind when you whistled. You wondered if he still kept those drawings.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“I know. He’s still got your contact name in his phone.”

You smiled a little. “Is he there?”

“He’s working. Some bachelor party, I think. He’s probably pissed he left his phone here.”

You looked at the fountain pen sitting on the nightstand. “When he gets back, could you tell him we’re headed to Nevada.”

“Nevada? What the hell are you two going to do up there?” He paused for a brief moment as if he just remembered. “Oh yeah. The blood money.”

“Did he promise you a cut too?”

He let out a laugh. “Logan can hardly part with a 5-dollar bill these days. I’ll probably get paid shit for watching Charles while you two go off getting married in some shitty casino or something.”

“It’s just a business trip. Nothing more.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, my friend.”

There was a storm happening outside. The wind howled like a river of ghosts against the motel walls. You thought you heard old teammates and friends whispering in it.

A cough came from the other line. “By the way, if you come across a Vegas snow globe, I’d very much like to add it to my collection.”

“Sure.” The howling outside continued. “Take care, Caliban.”

“You don’t want to ask how Charles is doing?”

You took a sharp inhale. You didn’t need to ask. You knew exactly how he was doing. And you didn’t want to talk about him right now. Maybe some other time. You kept putting it off. You’d deal with that guilt another time.

“I’ll get you that snow globe.” And you hung up.

You fell asleep, still wearing that black dress.

[sleepyrainart]

Little Bits of Valentine's.

A small series featuring little stories including either OP/JJk characters.

Summary: Receiving nudes from your boyfriend. Including: Mihawk, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy and Usopp.

Warning: Male Nudity.

Mihawk was wondering why he was even here. His drunk ….. acquaintance, hugging him around the shoulders. Leaning most of his weight on him. Since the red head was drunk and having trouble standing. Mumbling about some mundane thing. Mihawk would rather be anywhere else. But Shanks grip was surprisingly strong for someone who lost their wits two hours ago.

“You know, um, what was I saying?” Shanks asks as if he was paying any attention. The only saving grace was the rich red wine he was enjoying. Though the drunk had tried numerous times to get him to drink his moonshine. Mihawk didn't need a sensitive nose to know how foul the drink was, “I know why you won't drink.” Shanks whispers conspiratorially in his ear. A giant grin and evil look in his eyes.

“Oh,” Mihawk sighs and decides it's best to play along. “And why is that?”

“Cause, cause you're scared.” Shanks bursts out laughing, nearly toppling. Mihawk rolled his eyes, too dignified to respond. But Shanks continued to laugh, loudly. His crew joining in. Taking a large sip of wine as he felt his patience slip. “Drink.” Shanks says as he tries to push the bottle to Mihawk's lips. The less drunk man pushing it away.

“Drink.” He whines again, pouting. “Drink.” He repeats with a different inclination. Once again, his crew joins in, chanting out of unison. Another sigh and he finally takes the bottle. Taking a small sip. Everyone boos. It's not like he cares about their opinions. But he does want some peace. So he takes a larger gulp. The clear liquid burning all the way down his esophagus. Settling hot in his stomach.

“Happy?” He asks, and the smiling man shakes his head.

---------- Later ----------

It was late at night or early in the morning. His befogged mind could not decide. Struggling to open his hotel door. He finally gets it open with a victorious sneer. He closes it with his foot. It slams loudly, and he hopes that red-headed idiot hears it, and it hurts his dumb head. Oh, yes, he loves that idea.

So his befuddled mind slips to other things he loves, novels and wine on a stormy night. Tending to his garden and having wine afterwards. You, that's where his drunk mind sticks. You were so pretty it makes him blush. Not that he would ever admit that. He thinks as he stares at his reflection. A drunk thought pops into his mind.

Though it may have been planted by a red-headed idiot. He would be the one to take all the credit. Because it was a really good idea. His hand delves into his pocket. Pulling out his phone. He turns on his camera. Struggling with his delicate fly. Pulling his semi hard member out. It was at that moment his door swings open. The red-headed idiot mistaking it for his room. In his struggle to cover himself, his finger slips. Pressing multiple buttons.

---------- Morning ----------

You're surprised to see a text from Mihawk. He usually prefers to call. Opening it, you see a confusing, blurry image. A smear of red that you're pretty sure is his friend Shanks. But you really can't make out anything.

You were busy doing some menial task. Not really paying attention. Daydreaming about a well deserved vacation. Maybe somewhere tropical, hot sand and lapping waves. Fruity drinks on tap. Mouth watering as you're lost in thought.

A quiet ding, breaking you out of your daydream. You see a message from your boyfriend. Opening it, you sigh, you didn't ask for this. A picture of his half erect cock. You find his lower stomach more appealing, gleaming with sweat. His lower abdominal muscles shining. Sharp hip bone and tasty v. He was so strong it makes you blush.

Turning off your screen and getting back to work. There were twenty minutes until your break. Then, you could return the favour.

You're feeling down, a sad mood overcoming you. It had been an okay day, but you were lonely. Your boyfriend had been away all week. You both tried to make do with texts and calls. But it just wasn't the same.

You decided to ask for something, you've never asked for before. It was an impulsive thought and a quick text. Kinda pervy, and you kinda regret it. But it did take your mind off your bad mood.

Cause now you feel worse. Nerves gnawing at your stomach. He doesn't usually take this long to respond. Phone glued to your hand as you go about your chores. You wake the screen each time it darkens.

No response. You feel like crying, but maybe you're hungry. Deciding a bowl of cereal will have to do. You make it one-handed and struggling. Spilling some milk.

You lean on the counter. Mindlessly shoving spoonfuls into your mouth. Dry eyes still staring at your screen. The battery signalling it's low. So you have to charge it. Deciding to shower. Maybe the hot water will make you feel better.

Going through your lonely nighttime routine. You check your phone as soon as you're done. Still nothing. You almost cry, but you're tired. Going to bed earlier than usually wouldn't be too bad. At least not as bad as just waiting.

Lying awake under the covers, shifting again. Finding no position comfortable. You give up and stare at the ceiling. You don't know for how long but finally your phone dings.

Sanji had sent you a text and you're dreading opening it. Shutting your eyes as you press on it. Cracking one eye open before they fly open in shock. A full mirror selfie. Handsome face, grinning and a blushing. Hair weighed down by water, obviously fresh out of a shower.

Droplets of water contouring his muscles. Your eyes following their downward trajectory. Butterflies erupting in your belly. Looking over the sexy v and to his erection. Standing proud and crowned by golden pubes. Long, hard and thick. An ache between your legs. His mushroom tip flushed red and dripping pearls of pre-cum.

Sorry it took so long, darling. But I just knew it had to be perfect. His next text read with an obscene amount of hearts and kisses. Your heart aches, your boyfriend was so perfect. You should reciprocate.

Luffy tried.

Usopp misunderstood.

[tailsbeth-writes]

Welcome to another Ficlet Friday folks!

The Rules: Copy the following prompts or make your own, post what fandoms you write for & your followers can request one of the prompts with a ship, character or fandom for a ficlet. Have fun! 

We're sticking with the summer theme, this week's prompts are summery anthems: (YouTube links attached)

🌈 She's a Rainbow - The Rolling Stones

💃🏻 Dance Before We Walk - August Moon

👏🏻 Praise You - Hannah Grace

☀️ Never Ending Summer - Wes Reeve

👟 New Shoes - Paolo Nutini

🪻 Lavender Forever - Jake Wesley Rogers

✨ Moonshine - Caravan Palace

🌻 Fare Well - Hozier

😎 At the River - Groove Armada

❤️‍🔥 End of an Era - Dua Lipa

My fandoms: Red, White and Royal Blue, Bridgerton, Skam, Heartstopper, Dead Boy Detectives & Young Royals.

☀️ if you want more summery songs, here's my Spotify playlist ☀️

Tag You're It: @run-for-chamo-miles @taste-thewaste @onthewaytosomewhere @candyspandemonium @myheartalivewrites @luainthewild @priincebutt @seths-rogens @fullerthanskippy @thesleepyskipper @sophie1973 & open tag as always 🫶🏻

[violetlunette]

so something to know is that i am the biggest simp in the universe when it comes to my lover, very similar to YUU, as in i think of the future of us and stuff, just a big simp.

BUT WHEN I'M SICK

i become so different as in i can barely be as outgoing and open with my love and just have to keep doing stuff because there is so many things to be done like work, chores, making food. so i don't stop until i drop to the ground.

so imagine YUU one day being really sick like me and at some point silver was asked to bring me some food and/or medicine and he finds YUU collapsed on the ground, with a very high temp, and just takes YUU inside to look after, into a bedroom and tries to wake YUU up. and when YUU wakes up instead of being all love-sick crazy he see's silver taking care of them and when silver comes over, YUU, in a hazed mind says "your so kind, thoughtful and selfless, no wonder i fell in-love you."with this loving smile. then passes out. and all silver can think is that this is not true because why would YUU love him, why would YUU make him feel so warm, just for him to come into the sudden realisation that he is in love and has been for a long time.

thank you for reading this

and you're doing such a great job mate, have the love you deserve for all you life, and goodbye.

Aww, this would be so sweet! And thank you for the sweeter message! This such a sweet scenario, I just--

Fun fact; Yuu can’t actually get sick due to in-universe reasons, however--

~*~

“Silver? Why are you here?” Silver had appeared in the doorway of the old Ramshackle Dorm, wearing his PE uniform, his skin coated in sweat.

He inhaled a deep breath so he could speak.

“I heard from Kalim that Yuu was sick.” When Silver heard this, he was surprised. For some reason, it never occurred to Silver that Yuu could get sick.

“Hah. I thought fools couldn’t catch colds,” Sebek said after hearing the news. He and Silver had been training together at the time. After scolding him, Silver cut their training short and ran all the way to Ramshackle.

Though now that he was here, he wondered if he really should be here.

“You came to check on Yuu?” The chubbier of the three Ramshackle ghosts confirmed. A slightly skinnier one beamed.

“Yuu will be so happy about that!” Silver shifted.

“Is he in any condition to have guests?” He inquired, wondering if he had jumped the gun by coming when he did. Yuu might have been so sick that he wouldn’t want to see him.

The ghosts each gave Silver a flat look when he voiced this.

“Silver, he could be deader than us, and Yuu would be in perfect condition to see you,” the skeletal ghost told him.

Silver was quickly ushered through the house and to the room Yuu and Grim used to sleep in. Instantly, his eyes locked on Yuu.

“Yuu…” At first glance, no one would be able to tell that Yuu was ill.

The teen had naturally gray skin, pale as mist. His hair was wild, frizzed, and—as Vil put it—had never been introduced to a comb.

However, upon closer look, Silver could see that the other’s flesh had turned paper white with a touch of yellow around the mouth and eyes. Meanwhile, the hair was damp with sweat, which made it stick to his face.

Half-lidded eyes shot wide open upon seeing Silver, a shimmer of glee within them.

“Moonshine! What--” Yuu moved too fast for his ailing body and nearly toppled out of bed. Silver hurried forward to catch him just in time.

“Ah!” he gasped as the other fell against his chest. “Careful! Your body’s weak right now.” Yuu mumbled something with a red face, but Silver couldn’t make it out.

With the help of the ghost, he set Yuu back in bed.

“We need to leave for a while; do you mind watching over Yuu for us?” one ghost asked.

“Ah, I don’t mind, but..." The ghosts clapped before Silver could finish.

“Great! In that case, we’ll leave him in your care! Tootles!

With that, they vanished, leaving the teens alone.

As Silver turned back, Yuu began vomiting into the trashcan.

“I heard you were sick, but I don’t know it was this bad,” Silver said, looking at Yuu sympathetically. Yuu took a ragged breath, shaking his head.

“Ugh… Not sick,” he muttered. “Poison.” Silver jumped, his expression unchanged except for the growth of his eyes.

“What?!” After setting the trash beside his bed, Yuu flopped back, putting a hand on his sweat-soaked forehead.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Grim picked some mushrooms that ‘looked tasty, and well...’” He grumbled an insult towards the beast under his heavy breath. “He’s fine, being whatever the hell he is. But me…” Silver felt his pulse race against his chilled skin. Yuu was poisoned. Poisoned! That meant he--

“We—We need to get you to the infirmary right away!” He gathered Yuu in his arms, causing the other to squeak like a mouse.

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold on there, Moonshine!” he said, his colorless skin turning bright pink. “No need to panic like this!”

“Yuu, you just said you were poisoned!”

“That’s why I took a—a—Gosh, what was it?! A throw-up potion from Kalim,” Yuu insisted. “Ace also brought a potion from Sammy-boy and took Grim for the day. I’ll be fine! I’m fine, really!”

“Even so--”

“Look, I can’t go to the nurse every time I get hurt,” Yuu said, weakly struggling. He liked being in Silver’s arms, but it was more important to make the other understand. “If I do, Crowley might believe the school is too dangerous for me and send me away. Then I won’t get to see you as often—legally.” Silver pursed his lips. He didn’t want that, but...

“I’m fine, really. I promise. Cross my heart and hope others die,” he insisted. After gnawing over it, Silver gave in.

“That’s not how the saying goes.” With a heavy heart, Silver replaced Yuu back in bed. He was worried, but at the same time, he didn’t want the other to get sent away. After all, having Yuu at Night Raven...

‘But is this a risk we should be taking?’ Depending on the mushroom, this could be dangerous. Forget sick; Yuu could...

“You don’t have to stay,” Yuu murmured, interrupting his thoughts. He used his sleeve to wipe away some sweat. “I know Batman’s gonna be looking for ya soon. And don’t ya have guard duties, or whatever?”

“I’ll text Lilia,” Silver said, pulling out his phone. “This is more important.”

Despite himself, Yuu laughed. His eyes were hazy as they watched Silver, a gleam of something inside them.

“That’s so you...” He said it softly, with a tender smile on his lips. “Kind, thoughtful, selfless... is it any wonder I fell for you?”

Silver felt his heartbeat at the words. He swallowed as his tongue became thick. He opened his mouth to respond; however, Yuu had fallen asleep.

Silver watched him sleep as his face heated from his cheeks to his ears. As Silver rubbed them, Yuu’s words echoed in his mind.

“...I wonder every day,” he whispered, throat tight.

Yuu was eccentric, fun, intelligent, and had the amazing ability to sidestep the laws of physics to make the fantastic reality (both good and bad).

And Silver—was just Silver. There was nothing special about him. 

Yet Yuu always looked at him as if he were the most extraordinary thing in the world.

‘Why? I wonder what he could possibly see in me?’ And why did he care so much? 

Silver placed a hand on his chest, which felt too tight around his heart.

This feeling inside of him... What was it?

He momentarily closed his eyes, then re-opened them, a soft gaze falling onto Yuu’s slumbering form.

“I wonder…”

--

Sorry, this took so long, anon! Thanks for the ask!

[kyberbonsai]

I finally remembered I wanted to make a Moonshine sketch! I love some of the designs artists have for her and I wanted to try as well

[ID: A traditional drawing of Moonshine from Naddpod c1. The first image is an uncoloured sketch and the second one is the same sketch but coloured. 

Moonshine is an elf with long curly red hair, green skin, light brown eyes and pointed ears that end in ink mushrooms. She has various mushrooms growing on her arms, as well as hair and stretch marks. She is wearing denim overalls with a brown belt, and her pockets are full of mushrooms and herbs. In her front pocket is Paw Paw, a gray and white possum, as well as a bi flag pin and some other pins. Two branches and a bird’s feather are sticking out of her hair. End ID]

[thedragonlover95]

Ask My Characters! This is a new series where you get to meet and ask questions for characters I created, ether inspired from other series, or came from my own mind. Rules: 1. No heavy NSFW questions please 2. Stick with the world you wish to explore if ether you or your OC liked to explore 3. Fan shipping is fine as long as it isn't abusive 4. You can do Truth or Dare with any of the characters 5. You need support/cheering up, don't be shy 6. Have fun and remember that this is just for fun. Worlds: Rearth. Yoshster, DeathWing, Darien, Bluebrow, Sharp Claw, Kyzer, Shody, Black Horn, Dragoona Sonooka, Grusious the Sage, Titano Draco Wondaria. (Deities)Nightmera, Fridgeta, Flara, Oashai, Forzati, Nightmaria/Dusk Nightmaria, (Warriors)Feardra, Hunter, (Circus)Tricky Trickster, Spiritual/Spooky, Monochrome, Harlafeind, Feral Frost, Quickloons, (Eclipes Sisters) Moonshine, Starlight, BloodMoon, Harvley Moonfest,(Titans) Yume, Akumu, Umbra, Naturlain, Volcania, Cryshiverera, Kairane, Terraluxera, Lux Luraura Fantastic Fantasy Park. Samuel, Lylith, Checkers, Shylet Dazzle, Gordie, Sir Anthony, Silver Arrow, Patches PMD. (Soul Dew) Soul, Psych, Buzz, Heart, Zapss, Shade, Xion, Butterscotch.(Team Flare Blitz) Flare, Aqua, Peppermint, Troops.(Guild)Nightwing, Star, Noah, Edge, Henry. (Stripes)Zeke, Ivy, Savannah Night Dimension. Selph, King Magnum Maxilla, King Jewlious, Lunearus, Catress, Cheshire Wonderworld Theater. Windy Dragon, Thrashing Gator, Coloring Rooster, Scorching Charger, Stealth Shadow, Ghoul Striker, Drawfeild, Clawfurd Phantomile/Volk City. Aero, Scarlet, Arson, Midnight Mobius. Beatrice, Hexter, Demitri, Alexander, Erik, Sherry, Clair Tomb of Nazarik. Ruby the red dragon, Sadus the Incubus, Krush the Lizardman, Scrowl the Kobold Mascot Mayhem. Abby the Lizard Mystical Forest. Sweet Treat the Candy Dragon I hope you guys have fun, and don't worry about asking so many at once, do take your time.

[transguyhawkeye]

[ID: a digital drawing of Moonshine Cybin from NADDPOD. Moonshine is tall, fat Crick elf with shoulder length curly red hair. She's wearing a pair of overall shorts and has various types of mushrooms growing from her hair and skin. Her body faces away from the viewer as she hoists a large stick over her shoulders and she glances back over her shoulder with a grin. A watermark next to her reads "transguyhawkeye" in cursive script. end ID]

finally finished off this sketch from a couple weeks back. im still unused to doing full body poses but i think my proportions are getting better?

[moonshynecybin]

did i see something about a bezz/cele playlist orrrrr

it is a work in progress but:

shy boy by CRJ. cele is a weird freak in the club and bezz is obsessed

all of chappell roan's latest album. okay not feminominon. but def hot to go, red wine supernova, picture you, after midnight, guilty pleasure and CASUAL. my kink is karma is unfortunately a rosquez song.

one of your girls by troye sivan HELLO

obligatory bestie by sizzie rocket

cool about it by boygenius. they are not cool about it. also added true blue and we're in love by them. we are blurring the romantic platonic line with vigor !

i believe country music is where REAL romance lives so: all your'n, feathered indians, and in your love by tyler childers. slow burn kacey musgraces, this kiss by faith hill, watermelon moonshine by lainey wilson, and i do think you could stick she's in love with the boy by trisha yearwood here bc its campy and i like it !!!

friends in low places and rodeo by my close personal friend garth brooks.

government hooker by lady gaga. bezz is nuts

no better by lorde

all the small things by blink-182

kissing lessons lucy dacus. they did this.

im on fire bruce springsteen horniest song ever written. born to run is also on here

all star by smash mouth DOES make me think about cele and it does make me laugh. sorry.

[sleepyowlwrites]

FTWT CCCLCVII

I'm gonna mention what I'm listening to as I do this tag because I want to. stick-pricked by @talesofsorrowandofruin and @akindofmagictoo

gasp Cry of the Celts by Ronan Hardiman (phantasm, 2020)

I laughed to see you so larger than life and you leaned back and I gasped told you not to lose your grip on the chains holding you up hang there a minute while my feet find the ground but instead you echoed in spirals while you shrank from my sight

obscure The Mummers' Dance by Loreena McKennitt (city story d0)

The bloodstain is obscuring the small print on the front of his shirt. Jet’s not the sort to care about ruined clothing, but today he lets it fill him with rage as he catches the next thrown punch and yanks down on the arm attached, bringing his elbow up to smash into the face that yaws closer to him.

“This is my favorite shirt,” he complains, kicking out one of the guy’s legs and driving his knee into the small of his back. The guy lands with a thud, face stuck in an expression of surprise while he tries to regain his breath.

encourage Storms in Africa Pt.II by Enya (The Illusion, 2011)

I ran, with whatever reserves remained in my exhausted body. My legs felt like twigs, bending and about to break each time my feet met the ground. Verain ran alongside me now, flashing me an encouraging smile, one hand on my elbow to propel me forward when I slackened. Finally, we made it to a ford. Torash jumped down into the shallow water. Verain pushed me in after him. With one hand from each guiding me across the slippery rocks, we made it to the opposite side and staggered out of the water.

My mind registered the fact that we were climbing more roots, from the large trees that grew often alongside flowing water. Their root systems held the banks together and provided us with opportunity not to make footprints in the mud for our trackers. What did it matter, I thought, since I don't have any feet? But then I had to concentrate on staying upright, even with the help of my companions.

candle (summon story d0)

Zan jumped and nearly fell over when out of nowhere, something fell from the roof and landed in front of the two of them. He immediately placed himself in front of Shae, who sighed in frustration and elbowed him.

“Calm down,” she muttered. And then, louder, “This is Grimes.”

The something reconfigured its shape, bones aligning and smoky mass solidifying into somewhat recognizable form underneath the long coat it wore without flesh to support it. Dark red flames like tips of candles served as eyes in the skull that stared back at him. And Zan was staring. Indeed, this was some sort of possessed skeleton, a kind of creature he’d never heard of and wouldn’t have dreamed up if he’d wanted to.

legend Dance of the Druids by Karliene (youth story au)

Not every student stays here for the same period. A couple of them have been here so long they became teachers. Or maybe they have memory issues and might have graduated but they were phasing while they were trying to leave the school and on that particular day there was storm interference and they ended up losing like, all their memories and also can no longer sustain their own form by themselves.

That one isn’t me. Nyks’ story is known by everybody. Nobody talks to him, despite him being practically a living legend now. He has me, though. And speaking of.

“Nyks! You’re here. In the hallway. Are you going to class?”

Nyks brushes his shoulder on mine and slips right through. Even though this has happened before I still shiver. He hugs the book he’s holding closer to his chest and looks up at me. Only slightly, because Nyks is also tall, but smaller when he’s drooped over like this.

rise Resolve by Nathan Lanier (taste of summer, 2019)

Honeycomb and moonshine Watermelon skies Nightingale and rooster Sun always eager to rise Arms up in the morning Feet down every night Comfort in the blankets under stars After twilight

rain Boudica by Karliene (she is ocean blue, 2015)

She is a moment She is a single drop of rain Just a flightless feather Drifting alone on the grassy plain

She is a molecule She is the universe A string of notes that hold their own Against the weighty verse

real (a sketch, bold lines, chromatic, 2021)

my heart is here, on my sleeve, right next to my elbow. I keep it in a plastic bag so it doesn’t get wet, but you can see it. it’s real, and pulsing, and the love can come out of it just fine. love is not tangible, you see, unless it has already left the heart in which case I can put it in my hands and lay them on your cheeks and then it is very tangible in so far as you will allow yourself to feel it.

ring Marble Halls by Enya (I Met a Horse in the Silent Dark, 2012)

My legs are weary and trembling I can't find a way to walk And when I try remembering I forgot that I cannot talk

A silver ring on my finger Shines in a sudden light A lantern far away glimmers And I can run away into the night

I gotta stop doing two blue friends at the same time. horizon, bend, believe, hope. BONUS: generous, gravitate.

@ettawritesnstudies @thegreatobsesso @drippingmoon @writeblrfantasy @livvywrites @vsnotresponding @zoya-writes OR ANYBODY

[mack-montresor]

TASK 001: THE REAPING (PT. 1 | BLIND CORNER)

It was the heat of summer. The air was sticky with sweat, even with the fan creaking in the corner of the room. Still, Nettle woke up with her head on Bramble’s chest. They should get up. There were things to do this morning, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, taking a few minutes to just listen to the steady creak of the fan, the sturdy beat of her heart.

The walkie paging was what made her sit up.

She paged in, reaching blindly with one hand over her shoulder. Sleepily, she groaned out a “Nnnnettle.”

Joe’s voice crinkled on the other end of the line. “Morning to you too. Both up?”

“No.”

“Work on it.”

“Copy.” And with that, she sat up, hoping the motion would wake Bramble up on its own. “Bram.” It was soft, but semi-firm. Today was a big day.

The combo seemed to work, at least enough that Bramble stirred, rolling into her stomach with a huff, burying her face. Hearing Joe’s voice in the morning was like smelling black coffee: effective, but not quite satisfying when you preferred something sweet. 

“Five more minutes,” she whined, voice muffled by the pillow. “Please?”

Nettle laughed, picking up the walkie and presenting it so as to tell Bramble she could bargain herself. “It’s’a big day, he’s gonna say no.” and with that, she stood up, wandering around their room and grabbing her clothes out of the closet and tossing Bramble’s clothes at her. “Come on. Aren’t you ready to age out of this bullshit? Y’know, I bet tomorrow we can sleep in as late as we want. hear Joe's making pie.”

This, of course, only solicited a groan. Bramble pushed herself up, flopping back on the bed, writhing about until she’d mussed all the sheets — wishing to be burrowed beneath them. “Better be the best fuckin’ pie of our lives,” she grumbled, sighing. Blindly, she felt over the mattress for her clothes, trying to change without getting up at all. She managed fine on her undergarments, but there was too much fabric on her dress (a stupid thing to wear), so she had to get up. 

It was Joe. The pie would not be good. It would likely taste of gasoline and be half-burnt. But Nettle didn’t point that out, because the fact that he’d bought berries for them was good enough.

“Are we drivin’?” Bramble mumbled, sticking a toothbrush in her mouth. Even with her mouth full, words warped, she trusted she could be heard. “Joe’s meeting us there, right?” 

Nettle, amused, responded quickly to the question.“Oh yeah.” At this point, she was already in her own dress and halfway through brushing her hair. “Parkin’s gonna be a fiasco, but we’re drivin’. Joe’s got…” it took her a second to remember which responsibility it was today. “Schedules to drop at the station before? Whatever it was, we’re busy this afternoon, so it’s splitsies.” there were deliveries to be made, even on national holidays. They only had the morning off. 

“Another gorgeous day in Panem,” she spread an arm out wide and high, feeling the drama of it. Then she leaned over and spit her toothpaste out in the sink. Bramble tied her hair back and began to wash her face. “Grab us somethin’ to eat in the truck? I’m almost done.” 

“You look great.” Nettle said, although she hadn’t been asked. “Gimme a minute. I haven’t put on socks.” another five minutes and she’d finished her hair, grabbed a bag, shoved some quick food into it from their bin of a ‘pantry’ in the closet. She checked under the bed, grabbing a jar of moonshine she’d been saving and shoving it in too.

And with that, they headed out, locking the door behind them.  Bramble made a note that their raspberry bushes needed pruning, and that the heavy Spring rainfall had washed loose berries down onto the cement of the truck depot. Years ago, Joe had been pissed they’d planted the seeds, and even more upset when it had started spreading rapidly. How were they supposed to know? She weaved around the loose berries, but it was impossible not to smush a few, staining the cement red beneath. Things they’d worry about this weekend, when they had some downtime. Or maybe they’d fix it tonight when they got home. However long she could get away with it, she would.

“Can I drive?” Nettle asked, once the car was within view.

 Bramble pulled the keys out of her pocket, dangling them off her middle finger, teasing in her palm. “Absolutely not. Get on your side.” 

Nettle laughed freely. She went through the usual checks as she made her way around to the passenger side, waving to a pair in their forties who were giving their truck a wash down.

“Good luck today!” one called over.

“Hey, with your route? You too!” Nettle laughed again, closing the hood and pulling open the door. She climbed up, climbed in, and offered a hand, sideways, to Bramble, initiating their handshake. Today was going to be a good day.

Bramble oscillated through radio stations: twangy folk music on one, soft jazz on another, trying to fine tune it to just the right signal. There, music still played, but between the songs, sporadically, another voice shone through. Well, two: Pascal and Delphi. Nettle let her fiddle, didn’t even complain about listening to the news on their way to the reaping. It was always good to hear what their oracles had to say. Instead, they focused on the voices as they pulled out onto the road.

“You’re listening to Vox Machina, this is your Oracle, Delphi speaking,” The voice rang nicely from the radio, something almost familiar, pitched up an octave, any twang cut out, brought to a neutral Panem accent. “In an attack to the north, Peackeepers take casualties, eight are dead and reportedly, dozens more are injured. Rebel forces have lost three in the scuffle.” 

A shuffle of paper created a pause, and in it, Nettle spoke up. “Heard they got Huck. You know, Ulberry?” Bramble swore under her breath. Tragic, but the fight goes on. 

And then Delphi’s voice crackled to life again, “Fortunately, the Vox managed to maintain control of the zone and pushed back all Capitol-aided forces. In the south, the Vox Populi lost control of Checkpoint C after burning the fields there. Check back again after the Reapings for any and all updates, signing off, this is Delphi.”

The radio began to churn out old Dark Days music, the gravel of the singer’s voice a soothing balm. Edda? Or Etta? Bramble couldn’t remember, but she loved this song. “Well, we’ll see if there are updates on the way home, I guess.” She turned it up, reaching over to take Nettle’s hand, to interlace their fingers as they turned out onto the main road.

A winding drive through the countryside, the tall plains and crop fields — it was a gorgeous day. Warm, with a breeze. They rolled the windows down. And with the wind, Bramble had to crank the volume up again to maintain the sound. Then she sang. Joyous, lighthearted, proud. 

And when she looked over, Nettle was singing too.

[synnthamonsugar]

Things You Said Prompt, Drifter and Ylenna 18

Things you said . . . when one or more of us was drunk

"What is your play, Drifter?" blurted out Ylenna, throat burning after taking a long sip of what was either spectacularly rough moonshine or particularly favorable rubbing alcohol. Woozily, she stretched out against a stack of canvas that had been piled up in the corner of the bridge of the Derelict, and kicked out her legs in a way that felt comfortable. A million stars twinkled from the other side of the massive domed window; they wandered in sickening circles and blurred at the edge of her vision too. She stopped looking.

"Play?" Drifter drawled, deadpan, gesturing for her to hand him the unmarked bottle. She topped off her chipped red tumbler before relenting. He poured the colorless liquid into his glass, and took a sip, barely flinching. "What d'you mean by 'play'?"

"Helping Misraaks. Eido. Eris. I hear you've even wormed your way into the Vanguard's good graces. Are you and Aunor buddies yet?" She stopped and regarded her fellow Lightbearer, tensed in the threadbare-and-falling-apart yellow plaid recliner he'd lugged up here from who-knows-where. He had been looking a little worse for the wear the whole evening — unsurprising, given the assortment of bottles scattered around the little camp stove set up between him and Ylenna — but this particular line of questioning seemed to have agitated him beyond the mix of alcohol, ether and radiolaria coursing through his bloodstream. "The Spider has dirt on you. He has dirt on everyone. But the others? What's in it for you?"

"Well, Light forbid I help a friend —"

"Yes. It goes against the nature of the universe."

Propping one hand on the arm of the chair and gripping it like he might fall out if he didn't, he leaned forward. Springs groaned threateningly under him as the frame sagged. "Sister, you gotta couple hundred years' head start on makin' people see past," he waved generally at her with his other hand, "what a miserable disaster you are."

"Hey," she protested weakly. He kept talking.

"Me on the other hand? I had the luck of rolling into town a year before the apocalypse. And whatever is going on out there, it's a hell of a lot more than I planned to weather solo. I don't have the luxury of bein' here so long that people can't imagine a life without me. I have to make sure I have friends, and make sure those friends will have my back — not stick a knife in it — when the time comes."

The naked honesty shocked Ylenna like ice water to the face, a hot, tingling sensation prickling through her. Half the alcohol, half prying out a secret not meant for her. Not meant for anyone. The camp stove went out out, leaving her and Drifter in starlit darkness that might have been comfortable under better circumstances. Now, it was cold and miserable.

Drifter leaned back in his chair and took another drink. She put hers down.

[kingeclectic]

Corn Whiskey Sangria

2 apples (large, sliced, plus extra for garnish)

2 lemons (sliced)

3 cinnamon sticks (plus extra for garnish)

1 1/2 cups apple cider (unfiltered)

1/4 cup light brown sugar

750 mL pinot noir (or your favorite dry, red wine)

1 cup moonshine (corn whiskey)

1 cup ginger ale

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Dear Daughter, Love and Be Loved || Sg Ish

My heart is full of swords Full of, full of swords

‘How old was she, when they took her?’

‘Sixteen hours, twenty four minutes, forty three seconds.’, was the answer, whispered out with smoke and the smell of moonshine strong enough to make the confession easier.

‘And how old was she, when they broke her, do you think?’

‘....Sixteen hours, twenty four minutes, and forty three seconds.’

‘What do they call her, where you all come from?’

‘Bobcat.’, she says, revealing herself in her aged youth as she adjusts her jacket for patrol, ‘They called me Bobcat. Because they called my father the Hellcat, before he was the Mercenary.’

Her eyes are like seaglass, her face still stoic even now. She was too young to be lost at sea, and yet here she remains- treading water slower and slower.

There is a field, a mile down the road, that Mimi and her siblings know as haunted- the summer vacation visits brought the ghost stories told by Ironhide with his animated gestures and shadow puppetry as the firepit burned and flickered. They say you see little white lights- the ghosts of wanderers who gave themselves to the woods when their hearts broke, mothers who lost their little ones and fathers who lost it all when the town began.

It is haunted by love and it is fed by loss, the grass grows tall and thick and all the wildflowers bloom in creams and angel’s gowns.

Tonight, there is a real ghost within. He is small, barely able to walk. His feet are bare as the day he was rescued two years back and scuffed by mud and burrs sticking to a dirty oversized shirt and pajama pants stitched with stars by a grandmotherly hand.

His eyes reflect the galaxy, they are rimmed in red and he shakes like the cold has burrowed in and can never leave again.

“Zizzy.”, he mumbles, those starlight eyes sunken in just a little from dehydration and his little stomach cramping from hunger.

He walks, and he walks and topples over- a shock of bright white hair in a hunter green sea as petals flutter around where his weight broke the flowers.

They fall on him like angel’s tears, and he curls in on himself with weak little whimpers.

“T’adu’t.”, he hiccups into the chilly breeze before he falls silent, and falls still- his lips and cheeks bright red.

Back at the place built of safety and suffering, twin eldest daughters gear up for a nightly patrol- taking advantage of their natural night vision given as unwanted gifts from parents who had to summon love from hearts killed by equal yet opposite means.

Mimi looks at Mimosa, and tilts her head, “Why the jacket?”

“I’m not going to freeze in this root vegetable hell, thanks.”, is the dry answer, “Unlike YOU I can prepare for scenarios that AREN’T a badly controlled mutiny.”

“Would it KILL YOU to be a decent person?”

“Yes, it would. To you, specifically.”

They both glare at each other before they set out- armed with a set of pistols each and Mimosa with a knife strapped to her upper arm like always, they walk the long winding path.

The stars are bright and yellow as fresh butter, the sky as dark as a stagnant creek. The clouds stream through the night like ribbons, like stray belts scattered with bullet shells and their footsteps are both heavy and silent.

“Never a thought for stealth, huh.”, says Mimosa flatly, her senses on high alert as her eyes rove over the scenery as they near an old field with nothing but the burnt out shell of an old barn left standing.

“Don’t need stealth here.”, was Mimi’s angry and muted response, “I’m, quite frankly, the most dangerous damn thing alive at this hour aside from MAYBE Birdy and Papacyc.”

“Why do you call him that.”

“Call who what?”

“Whirl. Why do you call him Birdy of all things?”

“When I was little, back on the Trion- Well. All I had was Si-si and the crew. So I had Pop-pop Kup, Uncle Spring, Papaspin and Twistdad. And, well. Uncle Birdy.”

“Huh. He raised you on the ship, then?”

“For a gentle use of the word RAISED, I guess.”, said Mimi with a shrug, “Whirl had funny pins on his old dress jacket, looked like bird wings to me since I didn’t have my glasses yet so... I called him Uncle Birdy. What about you? Don’t you have any names for your Percy’s crew?”

“...I didn’t have the crew.”

“Oh, right. You had, uh, well-”

“I called Prowl Papa.”, said Mimosa quietly, “He raised me til I was old enough to be enrolled in the Youth Training Academy facility.”

“...Then what?”

“Next time I saw him, he was sir, I was soldier. But sometimes, when it was just him giving me a lone assignment, I called him Dad. Closest I had to family until, well. Now I guess.”

“Explains why you’re kinda awkward around your siblings.”

“It’s a hard adjustment. They went from being my squad to my family; and I’m not good at having... family.”, she continued, “There was no watching their milestones or kissing their booboos or any of that horseshit. I had one job- Make sure they could never be broken like I realized I was. And to make sure they weren’t experimented on like the other batchkids.”

“Well, at least you got the instinct for it- hey, what’s that?”

Mimosa perked up, pulling a pistol free and aiming cautiously as she slowed down to a near crawl.

The cotton white puff poking free from the grass barely moved- shifted only by the cold wind beginning to pick up.

“Oh... Oh my god, dude, double I think that’s Pulsar!”

They both ran forward, sliding in the gravel of the road just a little before they knelt down next to him. Mimi winced heavily, looking him over.

“Good god... He must have run or wandered for miles, look at his feet. Comm service is dead out here, one of us needs to run back for info.”

“Get running.”, said Mimosa, feeling something pull in her chest at the dirty white hair and the closed eyes, “My legs are still weak, and the prosthetics I’m in aren’t steady enough to run that far as fast as we need to. So get running, I have a flaregun in my hipcase.”

Mimi paused, looking at the toddler trembling and limp on the ground before nodding sharply.

“...Try to warm him, and support his head when you... need to.”

Mimosa nodded before hearing the thud of Mimi’s running footsteps carrying her away. 

The wind blows cold, and Pulsar comes to just a little.

“B-Baaaaaaaaabaaaaaaaaaa...”, he whines out, tears beginning to roll.

[An old memory surfaces- Mimosa is barely old enough to walk, her home is dim and the Caretaker nowhere to be found. She reaches out into the shadows- the reflections of the hab’s ceiling tiles flicker like starlight, and she grabs at nothing with her hand.

‘PAPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-’, she wails, green eyes leaking heavy tears like spring rain and starts to hiccup and sob when there’s no answer, until there is.

‘Sssssssh... Papa’s here.’, says the gentle voice of the man she still loved as her father though he hurt her so gravely, ‘Papa’s here, don’t cry my little one. Come here now.’

He holds her tight, he smells of incense and cigars. The tiles shimmer through her tears and she curls her hands in his shirt.]

“B-Babaaaaa-!”

“Ssssssh, shshshs, hey now. Hey.”

When had her voice become so gentle. When had her words stopped hurting to grate out like razors in her throat.

She lays a hand on Pulsar’s arm, and it’s freezing to the touch. She pulls away, worrying her lip for a moment before swearing under her breath at this strange bout of softness, protectiveness- oh, how seeing her squad as siblings had softened her.

She hoped, deep down, it stayed that way.

“Hey now, sssssshshshshsh- I’m here. Mimosa’s here now kid.”

“Mimsa...?”, he mumbles, opening his galaxy eyes and blinking out of time as he coughs, “Mimsaaaaaaaaa-”

Her heart, oh how it aches! Oh how it breaks, as she sees the little one’s white hair and remembers her own as the dye fades a little more every day and she pulls her jacket off without thinking for a moment.

The wind blows, it howls at her and this little boy who did nothing wrong beside exist and be loved and she wonders if maybe, just maybe-

Maybe if she chases away the blue from little fingers and toes then the little girl all those years ago might feel the warmth she deserved, too.

Mimosa was born cold, in more ways than one.

Her heart aches. Her heart breaks.

She wraps Pulsar in her old military jacket, the one Prowl gave her when she started the academy that she still didn’t quite fill out; she wraps him in her jacket and sits down in the gravel as she lifts him carefully from his bed of wildflowers and anguish into her lap.

She tucks him close, hands used to weapons closing around tiny toes to warm them slowly with rough palms like tiger’s paws.

She rocks him, side to side, reaching into her hipcase and pulling out an old flaregun- nearly antique but still useful.

She aims up, holding him close and curling over him to shield from noise and light and fires it straight up. He opens his eyes again when she moves, looking up in wonder at the flying glow.

His hand curls into her shirt. His eyes shine through tears.

The flaregun is put away and her arms adjust him to perch him on her hip so she can situate her shirt to cover his bare and dirt feet- cold against her skin- and she begins to trudge back.

Her legs creak. So does her throat form the lump in it as Pulsar buries his cold little face against her neck and lets his tears free.

“M’zissa in badplace.”, he mumbles.

“I know, li’l one.”, she answers, “We’ll get her back.”

“P’omise?”

“...Yeah, I promise.”, she says quietly, adjusting him on her hip again, “Now let’s go home; you’re like a little snowball.”

They walked for a while until they saw it- lights, flashlights and familiar faces and Mimosa held tighter to Pulsar as she narrowed her eyes- knowing they reflected the light just so, just enough to be unnerving.

“Mimosa, darling oh goodness when Mimi ran back I thought the worst had happened-”

Percy hugged his daughter tight, before gasping when Pulsar huffed and sneezed, “Oh my god.... You two found him.”

“Yes, over by the edge of the field, he must have been running, or, well. Toddling for a long time. His feet are all dirty and sliced up by burrs and the thick grass.”

“Oh my goodness. Oh, the poor dear, here hand him to me-”

“No.”

Mimosa winced. It was meant to come out as a statement, a near command. Like she had control, like she had some semblance of the Something that made her special once but... It came out so. Small. She held tighter to Pulsar, who in turn clung tighter to her shirt and stared in little fear out from where he buried his face against her neck.

Percy felt his chest get heavy, and smiled when he noticed the pale roots of Mimosa’s dyed hair.

“...Actually, I think it would be best for you to carry him home. Come along, let’s get out of this chill.”

He took a few quick steps, getting out in front of Mimosa and waving in the direction of the beams of light and Mimosa could make out the bright red hair of her other parent.

She let herself be weak, for just a moment- she wondered if it was Pulsar she comforted with the tight hug and kiss to the top of a messy head...

Or a little girl with once bright green eyes; who wore little green rainboots on a Praxian balcony during a storm.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

WRITING ADVENT CALENDAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Day 25

Prompt: A past Christmas taking place in someone's childhood

Aka: Sunshine and Moonshine Christmas flashback

Read on ao3 in the link about or under the cut

Christmas meant magic, happiness and cozy times. That's at least what they had seen on TV.

For Ámbar and Luna, Christmas was everything but those things. It started with Sharon waking them up at 6 in the morning and getting them to the biggest bathroom in the house. In there, she showered them, brushed their hair and clothed them.

Right now, Luna was sitting on a chair with a towel around her body, watching her wet hair drip. Meanwhile, Ámbar was sitting in the bathtub as Sharon showered her hair. When they were younger, this was okay, but now Luna was almost 9 and Ámbar had just turned 10. At this age, they normally were showering themselves, but for Christmas, Sharon insisted.

"I normally let you have the freedom, but frankly, you're not doing a good job and on Christmas you need to look more than presentable."

She then turned off the water and handed Ámbar a towel. Ámbar hugged it tightly around her body, wanting to cover up as much as possible. Sharon scoffed at this, as it "wasn't anything they hadn't seen before", but Ámbar wanted less and less to expose much of anything. She sat down next to Luna, who Sharon now had started to brush the hair on.

"Ow! Ow!"

"Stop making noises, Luna."

"But it hurts!"

"Nonsense, you're just being overdramatic."

Sharon was always very harsh with the brushing. It always felt like she was gonna pull off all of their hair. Sometimes, the girls wished she did pull off their hairs so she learned to brush gentler.

After brushing, Sharon tied Luna's hair up in a ponytail, making a bow holding it up. She tied it rather tightly so it would stick, but Luna felt like her head was thumping. Then Sharon did the same procedure on Ámbar, brushing and setting up her hair in a ponytail with a bow. Ámbar scrunched her face up getting brushed, but tried to keep it together.

Then the girls noticed Sharon picking up a hairspray. They took each other's hands, closed their eyes and inhaled deeply as she started spraying their hairs.

After that, they got their clothes. Luna got a green dress and Ámbar a red. They also got white nylon stockings, which Luna found to be very itchy, but she couldn't complain.

Next up was Christmas breakfast. Usually this was fun. The food was good and the girls got ginger bread to eat afterwards, something Sharon didn't like because they left crumbs everywhere. But the girls ate it carefully. 

After breakfast, it was time to open gifts. If you'd think the girls got a mountain of gifts just because they were rich, you'd be wrong, They got one gift each from Sharon and it was never something they wished for.

Luna got a porcelain doll with giant, staring eyes. Sure, she liked playing with dolls, but her favorites were the soft, stuffed raggy dolls. This doll she found really creepy and it felt like it was going to murder her.

Ámbar got a diary, which was fine, but she knew there wasn't that of a good intention behind it. Sharon had commented during the past year that she found Ámbar to "be much quieter than before" and that she "seemed to hide things". This diary wasn't to write out her thoughts and emotions, it was for Sharon to secretly read when Ámbar wasn't around. Ámbar swore to never write in it.

Yet, the girls smiled and thanked her for their gifts.

"Occupy yourselves," Sharon said, "I need a drink."

As soon as she left, the girls let out breaths they unintentionally had held in.

"I'm never gonna write in this diary," Ámbar said, "She's just gonna read it."

"But if you don't write in it, she'll wonder why you haven't," Luna pointed out.

"True. Maybe I could write subliminal messages to mess with her."

"And I could use this doll as a villain when I'm playing. Or leave it around the house, occasionally moving it, like an elf on the shelf. Just to scare people."

The girls giggled as they pictured someone getting scared, like Sharon. But most of all, Rey. Sure, they wanted to scare Sharon, but she still had an authority and the girls still felt like they wanted her to not be mad at them. However, they loved teasing and bullying Rey. They just needed something in their lives to have control over.

"Here you go, girls!" Amanda said as she walked in with two glasses of coca cola, "My treat!"

Amanda is anyone knew how Christmas could be for the girls, and decided to do the little she could to lighten it.

"Amanda, wait!" Luna said. She walked up with a piece of folded paper. "We wanted to buy you something, but we aren't allowed to go to the city. So, we drew something."

"I drew, Luna colored," Ámbar explained.

Amanda opened the folded paper and looked at their drawing. She smiled. "Wow! You two did this for me?"

"Yep!" the two said in unison.

"Thank you very much!"

Until dinner, the girls were allowed to do whatever they wanted, as long as they weren't too disruptive. Since dinner was so big, they only had sandwiches for lunch, which they ate in the kitchen without Sharon's knowledge. Everyone in the staff (except for Rey, maybe) wanted to make the girls feel happy at Christmas, so the chef happily let them be in the kitchen.

They then watched some Christmas specials on TV. Though, all of a sudden, Luna felt like she needed to stand up and dance. She was quite an active child and sitting down for more than half an hour was an accomplishment for her. In fact, sometimes she didn't properly listen to people because she was so focused on sitting still. But now, she wanted to get up and dance. She went over to the stereo, putting on a Christmas CD.

As the music started, she started flapping her hands and smiled. Then she started dancing.

Ámbar grinned as she watched her. She was bopping along to the song where she sat.

Though, just as Luna was in the happiest mood, spinning and jumping around, she bumped into Sharon.

"What is the meaning of this?!" She instantly turned off the stereo as Luna's smile disappeared and she now felt guilt and anxiety.

"I was just dancing..." she said.

"The music was way too loud and you looked ridiculous! And your ponytail almost got loose!"

Her ponytail was not even near getting loose with how tightly Sharon made it, but Luna couldn't know that.

"Sorry..."

"I hope you'll behave. Now it's dinner."

Christmas dinner was always very silent. Sharon didn't allow for any small talk, unless it was to ask to pass something across the table. 

Luna sat in shame and guilt, thinking a lot about not talking. Do not talk, it's not allowed. We are quiet at dinner. Do not speak. No one wants you to speak.

She focused so hard on this that she barely ate anything.

Ámbar knew that now when Sharon already had become mad at Luna, it was best for her to lay low. A tiny mistake could mean that hell broke loose.

The dinner was tedious and tense and the girls were so relieved when Sharon finally said they could be dismissed. Now they decided to do something fun. It was a sunny day out, so they had decided to go out and roller skate. They knew that it was a good way to relieve some stress.

The only problem was that they couldn't use their helmets while wearing these ponytails. So, they either had to skate without helmets or take out the ponytail. Ámbar decided on the second option.

She sat on the porch, getting ready to get her skates on, as she felt the freedom of her hair no longer held up. Now it was just to put the helmet on.

"Ámbar!"

Oh no.

"Ámbar, look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

No, I don't want to look at you.

Ámbar did not want to see Sharon's angry face. When she turned around, she only saw Luna, who was a little slower getting her skates, and still hadn't taken out her ponytail. She stood by the front door and watched the scene that was playing out.

"Why did you ruin your hair?" Sharon asked.

"I didn't ruin it. I couldn't wear a helmet when I had a ponytail. Do you want me to not have a helmet?"

"I don't like your attitude!"

"Okay."

That answer was supposed to just be affirmative. Ámbar didn't know what to answer, so she took the one she saw as the "I heard what you said and I confirm I heard". However, Sharon did not take it like that. Instantly, she snatched Ámbar's roller skates.

"Amanda!"

"Yes, Miss Benson?"

"Go put these in the trash, please."

"No!" Ámbar cried. 

"Yes, Miss Benson." Amanda said and walked away. At the same time, Luna ran upstairs, in case Sharon decided to throw away her skates too just because she was there.

"You're not going out today," Sharon hissed, "You're going to bed."

"What? But it's 18:30."

"Maybe you can think about your behavior after sleeping."

Ámbar lied in bed, her tears streaming down her face. She couldn't go to sleep. She hated everything. She hated how things had turned out. 

Then there was a knock on the door. 

Luna came in. She was now wearing a pajamas.

"I just wanted to say I put my doll in Sharon's closet."

Ámbar smiled slightly, "Good." Sharon deserved to be startled by a doll when she opened her closet. Then she got an idea. "Hey Luna, do you wanna sleep together tonight?"

Luna nodded, and in a few seconds she joined Ámbar in bed. Ámbar felt like they both needed some comfort.

Then someone else knocked on the door. Luna hid under the blanket, in case it was Sharon.

It wasn't Sharon. It was Amanda.

"Ámbar... I just wanted to say..." She held up her skates, "...I couldn't throw them away."

Ámbar lit up. "Thank you...!"

"Sch... don't tell your godmother, ok?"

"I won't."

"Good. Good night, Ámbar."

"Good night."

"And good night, Luna."

Luna curiously peeked up from the covers.

"Good night."

Ámbar then turned off the light on her nightstand. 

Maybe Christmas wasn't very fun, but it was good that she and Luna had each other. They could always give each other comfort when things get dark.

[kookieswan]

Handlebar peeps, favorite drink? Mine is wine, whiskey neat, or moonshine. Least favorite is gin (the drink. Not the delicious man). It's an abomination *shudders*

Seokjin: Likes sweet red wine. There’s a very specific cherry one he’s obsessed with and lowkey hoards.

Yoongi: Honestly doesn’t drink that much and is usually just drinking water or a soda so he can keep watch of the idiots. BUT he does enjoy an old fashioned or maybe a Manhattan.

Hoseok: He’s a whisky sour kind of man, and honestly just enjoys bourbon on the rocks by itself a lot of the time.

Namjoon: Isn’t much of a drinker but digs a good strawberry daiquiri. My man doesn’t like to taste the alcohol nope 🍓

Jimin: Jimin likes a good cocktail, let’s go with a cosmopolitan. BUT he can outdrink everyone in the bar and will take shots of Everclear for funsies.

Tae: Legit does not enjoy the taste or burn of alcohol but likes to party so he orders shit he can’t taste it in. A screwdriver would be a choice for him.

Jungkook: Vodka Redbull or Cranberry redbull. He usually sticks to vodka 🥴

MC: Loves a good Dirty Shirley , she used to drink kitty cocktails all the time lmao 🌈

(I will not lie I’m not much of a drinker and usually stick to vodka red bull myself or just a nice sweet wine lmaoooo)