#sketched this outside because the weather is cooler than inside

[noxcaelestia]

A quick proposal for what Mikhail’s eyes would look like when they are opened.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Hi, if its ok to ask .

Slashers x teen reader

The teen reader is fond of sewing after finishing the sketch. If they cant do the method they look it up online when they are able to create it with trial and error they gift the slashers something they made weather be small or big . If anyone attacks them she has a bracelet with a pin cushion filled with pins for attack

I'm kinda confused since you didn't specify what kind of sewing but I tried my best!

Slashers x teen! reader who likes sewing

Michael 🔪

Michael doesn't like sewing obviously, he doesn't get the appeal other than the damage you could cause with the sharp needle/ the presser foot he guess.

But damn he loves your sewing products even if it looks like he glanced at it one time for a second, he thinks they're so cute and especially since you made it all for him?? And him specifically???

One day you took a large amount of your time and made a mini him with a mini knife and he looked pissed off but inside he was pleasantly surprised and pleased and from then on he took it everywhere with him inside his breast pocket.

He witness you having problems with your idea one time and just silently watched you struggle cause he doesn't know what to do either and then walked away after you finally found out how to fix it. It's weird but ig that's his way of looking after you. (he came back an hour later to see what you made even though it might just be halfway done.)

He thinks the hobby itself is a waste of time but takes it back when you gift him cool ass clothings or toys with it. (he totally still thinks it a waste of time, it's just cooler when you do it.)

Your dad doesn't approve of sharp things that could danger YOU but if its for self defense he can let it pass. Although he thinks it's unnecessary. (you have him, why would you need weapons?)

But he approves when he realises they keep you safe. But he thinks they look hideous.

Jason 🪓

He's never really thought of sewing before but it did pique his interest when he saw you doing it one day. He did find your sketching notebook and grew fond of your imagination.

I think Jason's clothes do become very worn out and so you did your best to make a new one for him (which you got from dead victims) and made him a big long sleeved shirt which consisted of forest green, coffee brown and other nature and earthy colors. He was so proud of you, his little kid. :,)

But he likes anything you make, really.

If you're struggling with something you have to find out in your own. Because I don't know where you can look anything up online or any technology in a place such as where Jason lives. But Jason will support you to the best of his abilities.

And oh, if you make any matching articles of clothing for the both of you he will be over the moon. Like matching bear bucket hats or matching patterned pants. He thinks it'll be a great way to let outsiders others know that you two have a connection with each other. (yk, like relation? Family relation?? Idk)

He loves the little small things you can make, like a sewn cat or animal and make it look like a key chain.

If you make a mini him, he might just cry. If you make a mini him and you holding hands like a parent / child way he'll definitely cry. He never even dreamed of such luxury. He's just engulfing you while hugging you like. "oh you precious thing, *sob*"

Jason absolutely freaks out when he saw the bracelet pin cushion. You have a bracelet full of pins, what if they slip out and cut your entire hand off!? But just show him how helpful it is and he'll calm down a little. A little...

Hannibal 🍽️

Hannibal noticed your hobby of sewing after a while of living with him/ visiting you before he took you in (?). He finds the hobby quite adorable and pretty useful. He would love to see your creations after you're done with them.

He may or may not snoop around your sketchbook and act as if nothing happened if you almost catch him.

He compliments whatever you make but gives constructive criticism when needed. And sometimes he looks too deep in what your sewn products are and what they might mean. 💀

this man gets so enthusiastic and happy when you want to make custom clothes for him like ong, a suit made from love from his child and made exactly to his liking?? What could he ask for more? He happily just stands there while you take his measurements.

He occasionally checks up on you while you sew, and although he prefers when you two are in the dinner table together, he won't mind having a meal or two alone. Atleast you eat.

Hannibal acknowledges your errors, not in a bad way but in a way where he sees it as learning process and is very proud of you when you've successfully completed your work.

Talking about sewing, you already know about the kinda expensive shit he gets for you according to your taste. They just seem very valuable no matter how you make them look.

Do it, make matching suits (or yours a dress, however you like it) for the both of you. He has this sick ass introduction where he introduces you as his teenage child and you look like those cool parent & child team in action movies/shows.

He also doesn't approve of sharp things and thinks the pin cushion is a bit odd. They're too obvious and someone might snatch them and make the tables turn so he suggests a more secret area.

Billy n Stu 🎭

Safe to say the both of them thought sewing was boring and takes up too much of time but that wasn't much after they met you.

You literally make their ghostface costumes.

They both love seeing what sorts of things you can make from a lump of small pieces of clothing and a needle/machine. They totally asked you to sew custom clothes for them. (Billy was a bit of an asshole but agreed to give you money because of stu) they couldn't have been happier with the result.

They think sewing is so cool now. And if you make a ghostface / mini them, that's it. Sewing is officially their favourite thing even if they don't do it. They have it on almost every single day.

Billy and stu probably tried to flex on Sidney and Tatum on the things you make for them and they were mildly concerned at the ghostface thing.

Billy will loudly look through your sketchbook in front of you, even though there's nothing to be ashamed of, it's like someone looking through your unfinished drawing sketchbook. (artists can relate.) stu will try to be a but sneaky but fails and goes along with Billy.

These men have no shame, and will proudly and confidently boast about what you make and how good you make it in front of random ass people you don't even know. Even when you're really embarrassed and telling them to stop.

These men will like anything you make and don't really have much to complain about. So they'll give a genuine thumbs up on pretty much anything.

They think the pin cushion is hilarious but make it horror themed and they'll think it's cool. They have no problem with you and dangerous objects and they think this is great for self defense.

[cable-knit-sweater]

for your follower celebration, how about stucky + melt ? ❤️❤️

Thank you both so so much!!! You’re both so wonderful, and these prompts are wonderful, and I just felt like adding them together, and I hope that’s okay @sanguineterrain & @xoxobuckybarnes? Either way, I had a lot of fun writing this one. 🥰

A little inspired by my Summer Days, Summer Nights fic, a little pre-war Stucky for the both of you, I hope you enjoy 💖💖💖

Stucky + Melt + Beach, Teen, 2.2k

Read on Ao3 or below

Usually, Steve likes summer. He doesn’t get sick as easily as in the fall or winter, his allergies don’t act up as much as they do in the spring. But it’s the end of July and they’re in the middle of a heatwave that’s become a little unbearable, even more so because their shitty little apartment seems to trap all the heat inside. It’s hard to find some kind of relief, and both working and sleeping, doing anything really, has become difficult.

Steve has started to get up earlier in the morning to get some of his sketches done, sitting outside on the fire escape to catch a cooler morning breeze if he’s lucky, and work on his commissions. He doesn’t get too many, but every so often a company will pay him to draw an ad for them, and he’s grateful for it. Even more so in this kind of heat, because he can’t imagine doing a more physically demanding job in these kinds of circumstances.

He sees how it’s getting to Bucky, the long hours at the docks with not enough breaks, working on little sleep because he too is kept up by the heat at night. He’s been in a bad mood for days now, thinks he’s hiding it well enough from Steve, trying to put a smile on his face and making the same bad jokes he always does. But Steve can tell. They’ve known each other for too long, it’s been the two of them together against the rest of the world for too long, for Bucky to be able to hide from him that he’s struggling. His laughs look and sound a little forced, he looks drained of energy, has trouble getting out of bed in the morning.

Steve wants to do something about it. He can’t change the fact that they live in a shithole that makes getting through this heat so hard. He can’t change the fact that Bucky needs this job, that they both need it to get by. He definitely can’t change the weather, even if he wishes he could. For Bucky. But what he can do, and what he’ll try his very best to do, is to make it a little more fun, get Bucky out of his head a little, and change up their everyday drudgery. It’s the least he can do. Bucky would- and has - do it for him.

Bucky works most days of the week, but usually has Sunday’s off. It’s 8 in the morning, temperatures still low enough at this time of day to manage easily. Steve gets up to make some coffee - he’s not sure how Bucky drinks this dreg but he seems to need it even more than usual these days - before going over to Bucky’s cot and shaking his arm a little, trying to wake him up.

“Hmpff. Steviee”, Bucky grunts, “‘s my day off, can I jus sleep in a little?”

“Sure. You can sleep on the train”, Steve grins, trying to drag a reluctant Bucky out of bed. “Even made you coffee, come on, ‘s not that early”

Bucky grumbles and grunts, making his way over to the little kitchenette to get a mug, mumbling under his breath about why he even bothers with Steve. He tries to look annoyed, a little pissed off, but with his messy hair and heavy lidded eyes, he mostly looks adorable to Steve. He has to struggle to not grin too hard at the sight.

Once he’s had a couple of sips of coffee, Bucky mellows out. He seems to have finally registered what Steve had been saying before. “Train? What do you mean train? And what are you packing all that stuff for?”, he asks Steve, who’s slowly trying to gather what they need.

“We’re going to the beach”, Steve responds, trying to sounding determined and like he’s not taking no for an answer. “Don’t argue with me, we both need a couple of hours away from this place.” At Bucky’s unsure look, he softens. “Come on Buck, we deserve some fun. Let’s go to the beach and cool off a little. Fresh air will do me good?”

It’s when he says that last part that Steve knows he has Bucky. He’ll never say no if it’s something that will benefit Steve’s health. He knows it’s a little underhanded, but it’s also not a complete lie. And Bucky is so stubborn, he’ll never do anything for himself. So Steve makes do with what he can. Unsurprisingly, Bucky agrees to go, and before they know it they’re on the train to the Rockaways. Even this early in the morning, the train is pretty packed, but they still find somewhere to sit, and the trip isn’t too bad.

They spend all morning walking across the beach, Bucky collecting seashells, dipping their feet into the water. Finally they drop down in a more quiet spot, Bucky with his book and Steve with his sketches, under the shade of a parasol to avoid getting sunburned. It’s quiet enough, the sounds around them mostly of the crashing waves and squawking seagulls. When Steve looks over to Bucky, he can already see the effects of the day on his face. He looks less tense, the lines on his face smoothed out, less of that ever-present frown visible. He’s glad that they did this.

Around lunch time they find something cheap to eat around the boardwalk, which ends up being a couple of hotdogs, and after letting their food settle for a bit, they decide to finally go for a swim. It’s not yet the hottest part of the day, but it’s warmed up significantly and it’s as good a time as any to cool off.

They splash around in the water, yelling and laughing at each other. Steve can’t help but take a couple of appreciative glances at Bucky’s torso, how muscular he’s become doing all that heavy work at the docks. He looks…he looks strong, beautiful. He tries to look away before he’s caught staring, but judging from the considering look on Bucky’s face, he’s not sure he was all that successful.

When it gets too hot to be out in the sun, they look for some shade again. Bucky decides to lie down and take a nap, and while Steve at first is thinking of doing the same, one look at Bucky and he can’t help but want to draw him like this. He’s on his back on the old bedsheet they brought, using his book as a pillow, his wet hair starting to dry in wild curls but still clinging a little to the sides of his face, a curly strand hanging over his eyes. The shells that he collected earlier are spread out on the sheet next to him.

He looks magical to Steve like this, with his relaxed features, now lightly tanned skin and the sunlight hitting him at just the right angle to make him look like he’s glowing. He spends a lot of time trying to get it right, put all that’s he’s seeing on paper, even if he’s certain he can’t do it justice.

After a while Steve must doze off too, because he wakes up to the sound of someone nearby chuckling. When he opens his eyes, he’s staring directly at Bucky, who’s looking at him with the biggest grin on his face. “I think you’re gonna need to get back in the water to wash some of that off pal”, Bucky chuckles.

When Steve looks down at his hands, he sees they’re covered in black charcoal smudges, from where he must have pressed too closely against one of his sketches. But judging from Bucky’s look, it’s not just on his hands. “‘s on my face too isn’t it?”, he asks with a deep sigh. “Oh yeah it definitely is”, Bucky says, before bursting out with laughter. Steve can’t help but smile at the sound too.

He goes to wash off, and when he comes back he sees that Bucky’s packing up their stuff. “Probably shouldn’t wait too long before going back”, he says without looking up, and Steve nods wordlessly. He doesn’t realize Bucky is waiting for an answer until he looks up at Steve expectantly. “Oh yeah probably a good-“, he starts but he freezes when he feels Bucky rub a finger over his cheek, his hand lingering for a while. He looks at Bucky with wide eyes, brings up a hand to touch the spot Bucky’s hand just left. “What…”

“You just had a little smudge of charcoal left is all”, Bucky says, but it’s quiet and he seems to refuse to look into Steve’s eyes when he says it. He’s pretty sure he can see Bucky’s starting to blush. “Oh. Oh t-thanks Buck”, he manages. He’s sure he’s blushing now too. They pack the rest of their stuff in an awkward silence.

The awkwardness goes away by the time they’re on the train, and they both doze off a little, Steve’s head resting on Bucky’s shoulder. Steve feels great though. The sea air definitely made him feel better, and he can see how much more relaxed Bucky is, having had a little bit of fun and time to rest and a place to cool off. He thinks the day’s a success, and vouches to try to do this again sometime.

When they get home, Bucky leaves almost immediately, quickly telling Steve he “has something he needs to do”, rushing out before giving Steve any more explanation. Steve shrugs and decides to go sit on the fire escape. Their apartment is definitely unbearable right now, stale hot hair having been trapped there for most of the day. He sits down with his back leaning against the wall, trying to get comfortable but not succeeding, so he decides to go get a pillow. But when he’s in the bedroom, he thinks he might as well just bring the thin little mattress with him too. He puts all of the bedding on the fire escape and by the time he’s finally settled, he hears the front door open.

“Stevie? Where-“ he hears Bucky call, but he must have spotted him because soon he’s climbing out of the window and settling next to Steve. “We’re sleeping out here now?”, he asks, and even if Steve hadn’t considered it before, he’s definitely considering it now. “Maybe we should, probably more comfortable”.

Bucky nods, humms. “What did you need to go do so urgently?” Steve asks him. Bucky smiles at him brightly, then shows him what he’s apparently been hiding behind his back. It’s an ice cream cone. “‘s just the one, they ran all out and I couldn’t have gotten back & inside with two all that easily anyway. But we could share?”

Steve smiles back. “Course we can share. Thanks Buck.”, he says when Bucky hands over the ice cream. He takes a couple of licks, feeling like his face is burning with the way Bucky’s full attention is on him. He coughs and hands the cone back over, quickly looking away. It’s only when Bucky nudges him to take back the cone again that he dares to look back up. He can’t help but grin. There’s a smudge of chocolate ice cream on Bucky’s nose.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out with a finger and wipes away the ice cream, licking it off his finger after. Bucky makes a strangled sound that has Steve looking up, when he’s just about to have the last of the quickly melting ice cream. The air around them seems filled with tension, neither of them seeming capable of looking away.

Bucky seems to come to a decision, a determined look on his face. “I think we said we were gonna share”, Bucky says, his voice sounding a little rough. Steve looks at him questioningly, is about to hand back the almost-gone cone, but Bucky shakes his head. He can see Bucky take in a deep breath, before leaning in, until their faces are so close together, their lips are almost touching. “Tell me not to” Bucky whispers. Steve has to swallow, has to breathe in deep, feels his heart start to race. Instead of answering him, he just leans in.

He feels like he’s about to burst out of his skin, Bucky’s soft lips touching his, a chill going down his spine. It starts out soft, but quickly gets heated. Bucky bites down on Steve’s lower lip, making Steve him, enough for Bucky to take advantage and slip his tongue in, deepening the kiss. Steve can taste him, the sweet taste of chocolate ice cream and something that must just be him. Steve feels like he’s never tasted anything better.

They stay like that for a while, kisses eventually slowing back down to something softer, the two of them melting against each other. When the night starts to fall, Bucky brings out another pillow, and they lie down side by side, staring up at the sky. While it’s cooler there, much more bearable than trying to sleep inside, it’s still pretty humid. But they don’t mind so much anymore. Steve falls asleep with his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, the sound of his heart beating below his good ear, a smile on his face. Steve really likes summer.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

HOW SCIENTISTS AROUND THE WORLD TRACK THE SOLAR CYCLE Every morning, astronomer Steve Padilla takes a short walk from his home to the base of a tower that soars 150 feet above the ground. Tucked in the San Gabriel Mountains, about an hour’s drive north from Los Angeles, the Mount Wilson Observatory has long been a home for space science -- it’s Padilla’s home too, one of the perks to his work as Mount Wilson’s Sun observer. Mount Wilson has several solar system sentinels; the telescope perched at the top of this tower keeps constant watch on the Sun. Observers study the Sun closely, so we can better understand the life and activity of our star. Padilla boards the outdoor elevator. He clips himself to a safety harness, which is attached to the open-air cab, the same one used every day since the telescope went into operation in 1912 (the cables have since been replaced). “It can be a little scary on windy days,” Padilla said. At the top, Padilla adjusts a set of mirrors that projects an image of the Sun into an observing room far below. Back on the ground, he uses an array of pencils, varying in graphite weight, to sketch the dark spots mottling the face of the Sun. This daily chore is the foundation of the sunspot number, our longest record of solar activity. Humans have observed sunspots -- dark blotches that arise from strong magnetic activity -- for more than 1,000 years, and tracked them in detail since the invention of the telescope, for the past 400. Even with the modern-day host of spacecraft studying the Sun, taking the time to draw sunspots remains the chief way they’re counted. Surveying sunspots is the most basic of ways we study how solar activity rises and falls over time, and it’s the basis of how we track the solar cycle. Sunspots correspond with the Sun’s natural 11-year cycle, in which the Sun shifts from relatively calm to stormy. At its most active, called solar maximum, the Sun is freckled with sunspots and its magnetic poles reverse. (On Earth, that would be like if the North and South Poles flip-flopped every decade.) During solar minimum, sunspots are few and far between. Often, the Sun is as blank and featureless as an egg yolk. Understanding the Sun’s behavior is an important part of life in our solar system. The Sun’s powerful outbursts can disturb the satellites and communications signals traveling around Earth, or one day, Artemis astronauts exploring distant worlds. NASA scientists study the solar cycle so we can better predict solar activity. As of 2020, the Sun has begun to shake off the sleep of minimum, which occurred in December 2019. Solar Cycle 25 is underway, and scientists are eager for another chance to put their understanding of solar cycle signs to the test. “The most important thing to remember with predictions is, you’re going to be wrong,” said Dean Pesnell, a solar cycle expert at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland. “You’re never going to be perfect. It’s what you learn from that, that allows you to make progress in your predictions.” During drowsy solar minimum, Padilla observed more spotless days. “There are no spots to draw, so I just have a paper with nothing on it,” he said. Even the absence of sunspots is a useful observation: Tallying up spotless days is one indicator that the Sun’s mood is shifting toward minimum. (Instead of sunspots, dark coronal holes cloud the Sun’s poles at minimum.) On the other hand, in solar maximum, hundreds of spots can form at once. Some drawings can take several hours to complete. “The Sun has its own pace that we cannot speed up,” said Frédéric Clette, director of the World Data Center for the Sunspot Index and Long-term Solar Observations, or SILSO, at the Royal Observatory of Belgium in Brussels, which tracks sunspots and pinpoints the solar cycle’s highs and lows. “Sometimes, we have a hard time tempering the impatience of people who expect to know overnight if the Sun is truly waking up again.” Around the world, observers conduct daily sunspot censuses. They draw the Sun at the same time each day, using the same tools for consistency. Together, their observations make up the international sunspot number, a complex task run by SILSO. Some 80 stations around the world contribute their data. Exactly how many stations are included in each day’s count depends on a number of factors like weather (clouds and high winds obscure view of the Sun), or maybe a solar observer has a last-minute appointment. Despite the interference of daily life, these manual surveys are still the most reliable, long-term record of sunspots we have. “Satellites can do a lot of things better than a drawing by hand,” said Olivier Lemaître, a Royal Observatory of Belgium solar observer. “But consider a satellite with a 10- to 15-year lifespan -- that’s just one solar cycle. You can’t compare it to anything else outside that lifespan.” But long-term studies are the backbone of solar cycle science. With extensive historical records, scientists can trace the arc of decades-long patterns in the Sun’s behavior. When it comes to counting sunspots, it’s not so much about the accuracy or resolution of the observations as the consistency of the data itself. Even while their city was shut down due to the coronavirus pandemic, an observer from the Royal Observatory team made their way each day to the telescope tower, to keep the record intact. Lemaître approaches each sunspot drawing methodically, outlining a family of sunspots before shading in finer details. The delicate pencil work belies the powerful explosions sunspots can unleash. Sunspots arise from clusters of intense magnetic energy. Buoyed by their magnetic force, they rise through churning solar material like a grain of rice in a boiling pot. Sunspots appear darker because they’re cooler than their surroundings; the magnetic knot at their core keeps energy from radiating out past the Sun’s surface. When enough magnetic energy builds over the sunspot, a powerful eruption can burst free -- like an exploding soda bottle -- spewing light and solar matter. If they happen to be facing Earth, these solar storms can disrupt satellites, astronauts, and communications signals like radio or GPS. Earth’s upper atmosphere might expand in response, slowing satellites in orbit the way gravel roads slow down cars, eroding satellites’ lifetimes. Although changes on the Sun aren’t usually visible to us without the help of scientific instruments, they impact the space around Earth and other planets. Chasing Solar Minimum Deep inside the Sun, electrified gases flow in currents that generate the Sun’s magnetic field, which fuels its mighty outbursts. During solar minimum, the Sun’s magnetic field is relaxed. At the height of the solar cycle, it’s a tangled mess of magnetic field lines. Understanding this flow, called the dynamo, is key in the effort to predict what the Sun will do next. Since 1989, the Solar Cycle Prediction Panel -- an international panel of experts sponsored by NASA and NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration -- has met each decade to make their prediction for the next solar cycle. The prediction includes the sunspot number at maximum and the cycle’s expected start and peak. The effort requires assessing many different models and navigating many personalities. “We each have our favorite predictions, or the ones we have the most confidence in,” said Lisa Upton, a solar physicist at Space Systems Research Corporation in Westminster, Colorado, and prediction panel co-chair. “Our duty is to come to a consensus. If we take all of our opinions and models, where is the most overlap, and where can we agree the solar cycle is going to land?” Scientists are always chasing solar minimum, but they can only recognize it in hindsight. Since minimum is defined by the lowest number of sunspots in a solar cycle, scientists have to see the numbers steadily rise before determining when they were at the bottom. To complicate things, solar cycles often overlap. As one cycle transitions to the next, both old and new sunspots emerge on the Sun at once. Sunspots often appear in groups, which are like magnets, each with a positive and negative end. As the Sun’s magnetic field slowly flips, so does the polarity of sunspot groups. Where one cycle’s sunspots drift across the Sun with their positive end in the lead, the next cycle’s spots walk negative foot first. On top of that, sunspots in the Sun’s two hemispheres also have opposite orientations. Each sunspot’s unique magnetic signature makes it possible to determine which cycle produced it -- the old one or the new. When the Sun stirs from solar minimum, besides counting the sunspots, scientists want to make sure all the spots rising to the surface are actually new. “I just caution people, because as excited as we are for the new cycle to come, we have to wait until we actually reach minimum,” Upton said. “It can be six to eight months past minimum before we can say minimum has actually occurred.” Indeed, not until September 2020 did scientists confirm the Sun reached solar minimum in December 2019. Invisible Indicators Besides sunspots, other indicators can signal when the Sun is reaching its low. If the Sun’s magnetic field were a jigsaw puzzle, one piece is still missing: the magnetic field at the poles. Although scientists can’t measure the polar magnetic field as accurately as other parts of the Sun, estimates provide clues. (Soon, ESA, the European Space Agency, and NASA’s Solar Orbiter will send new images of the Sun’s poles.) In previous cycles, scientists have noticed the strength of the polar magnetic field during solar minimum hints at the intensity of the next maximum. When the poles are weak, the next maximum is weak, and vice versa. The past few cycles, the strength of the magnetic field at the Sun’s poles has steadily declined; so too has the sunspot number. Now, the poles are roughly as strong as they were at the same point in the last cycle, Cycle 24. “This is the big test for our models -- whether Cycle 25 will play out about the same as Cycle 24,” Pesnell said. Another indicator of solar cycle progress comes from outside the solar system. Cosmic rays are high-energy particle fragments, the rubble from exploded stars in distant galaxies. During solar maximum, the Sun’s strong magnetic field envelops our solar system in a magnetic cocoon that is difficult for cosmic rays to infiltrate. In off-peak years, the number of cosmic rays in the solar system climbs as more and more make it past the quiet Sun. By tracking cosmic rays both in space and on the ground, scientists have yet another measure of the solar cycle. While minimum may lack the fireworks of solar maximum, it’s useful for scientists. They make their forecasts, and wait to see how their estimates play out. Some consider it a time to return to the basics. “In solar minimum, you can ask more difficult questions than at maximum,” Pesnell said. One area of solar study, called helioseismology, involves scientists collecting soundwaves from inside the Sun, as a way of probing the elusive dynamo. During solar minimum, they don’t have to worry about soundwaves bouncing off the sunspots and active regions characteristic of solar maximum. When sunspots disappear from view, scientists have a chance to finetune their models -- without all the solar drama. TOP IMAGE....Sunspot drawings from SILSO at the Royal Observatory of Belgium. Surveying sunspots with daily hand-drawn drawings is the most basic of ways we study how solar activity rises and falls over time, and it’s the basis of how we track the solar cycle. Credits: SILSO/Royal Observatory of Belgium LOWER IMAGE....Images from NASA's Solar Dynamics Observatory show the Sun near solar minimum in October 2019 and the last solar maximum in April 2014. Dark coronal holes cover the Sun during solar minimum, while bright active regions—indicating more solar activity—cover the Sun during solar maximum. Credits: NASA's Solar Dynamics Observatory/Joy Ng

[anxiously-unsatisfied-world]

Pumpkins and Sunsets

Here is a combination of two prompts because I just did not have the energy to write last night. Also, it was a struggle to keep this the pairings that it is. I dunno what it is about my brain but I keep seeing potential LAMP moments everywhere :P

Pairings: Analogical & Royality Word Count: 913 Prompts: Carving Pumpkins, Sunsets in Sweaters

Virgil jumps when his phone chimes, rudely breaking his attention away from what he was sketching. He grabs the offending device and checks the message, frowning when it merely reads 'Come outside.'

Virgil throws on a pair of shoes and heads outside, still wearing the sweater Logan lent him earlier this morning. In the hallway, he nearly bumps into Logan and smirks slightly at his disgruntled expression. "He texted you too, huh?"

Logan nods, his expression softening somewhat when he meets Virgil's eyes. "Yes, he did. Hopefully, this will be quick, I was almost finished with my book." Logan says, nearly pouting at being interrupted so close to the end.

Virgil hides an amused smile behind his hands at how cute that is. "Come on, let's not keep him waiting," Virgil says, shyly holding out a hand which Logan takes, walking outside side-by-side.

"You made it!" Patton says with a large grin, sitting in front of a pumpkin, a scalpel in hand. He's dressed in an overly-large orange sweater that has leaf patterns all over it in red and gold.

"What is going on?" Virgil asks, looking between Patton and the table which has three other pumpkins other than the one Patton's working on.

"Carving pumpkins, silly!" Patton says. "Come on, join us! Roman will be back in a minute, he just left to go get some hot cocoa!"

Virgil and Logan share a look before walking over to the table, knowing they're not going to be able to get out of this one. If they so much as tried, Patton would use his puppy dog eyes on them and well… No one can resist Patton's puppy dog eyes.

Patton grins and starts working on his pumpkin while they get started, the three of them working in silence for a few moments. "So have you decided what you're going to be?" Patton asks as they're emptying their pumpkins.

Virgil shrugs, "I have a few ideas. Trying to settle on one though." He says though he's about ninety percent sure which one he's going to pick.

Logan just shakes his head, "I haven't given it much thought. I will find something before Halloween."

Patton beams at them both, "Well, I can't wait to see what you choose! I bet you'll look amazing!" Logan and Virgil look up and return his smile just as Roman comes back outside, a tray in his hands.

"Hey! Everyone's here!" He says with a grin as he sets the tray down in the center of the table, leaning down and kissing Patton's forehead before sitting down.

They all work in near silence for a while, occasionally commenting to each other about random thoughts. By the time they're finished, the sun is close to setting.

"Ooh, why don't we put the candles in and then watch the sunset?" Patton asks, "Then we can see the designs better as it gets dark!"

"Good idea, my sunshine," Roman says, taking one of Patton's hands and kissing his knuckles lightly. Patton giggles while Logan and Virgil watch them fondly, silently entwining their hands under the table.

Everyone lights a candle and places it in their pumpkin, setting the pumpkins in a row along the edge of the table. Roman then conjures a blanket for them all to sit on and they curl up together on it.

Patton settles into Roman's lap while Logan and Virgil hold each other close, all staring out where the sun is setting. Until Patton notices something and he smiles, "Hey! We're all wearing sweaters!"

"Yes, that is what happens when the weather gets cooler," Logan says, raising an eyebrow, silently asking why that's such an important observation.

Not discouraged by his response, Patton just smiles and holds one of Roman's hands, "I think it's neat! We're all watching the sunset, wrapped up in cozy sweaters. Sounds like the start of a good tradition to me."

Roman smiles fondly and pecks the top of Patton's head while Logan nods, understanding that reasoning. Virgil smiles and sets his head on Logan's shoulders, "Yeah, it does…" He mutters softly, feeling a sense of calm come over him as the sky's colors soften into pinks, oranges, and yellows.

No one says another word until the sun is well past the horizon, a chilly breeze picking up after the sun's warmth disappears. They then turn their gaze to the pumpkins, admiring the designs they'd chosen.

Roman's is a grand silhouette of Cinderella's castle, done in a surprising amount of detail for being hand-carved. Patton's is almost a traditional Jack-o-Lantern but with the face of a puppy instead of the usual shapes, making the pumpkin cute and not at all threatening. Logan's is the Hogwarts crest, looking as if he had been using a reference while working it's so accurate. Finally, Virgil's is of the Nightmare Before Christmas with Jack and Sally in front of a large silhouette of the moon.

They compliment each other on their handiwork before setting the pumpkins on their doorstep and heading inside as the breeze had picked up, making it too cold to enjoy being out for much longer. Right before Logan could go back up and finish his book, Roman and Patton decides to watch a Halloween movie, somehow roping both Virgil and Logan into it.

Thus, they all settle on the couch together, warmed by their sweaters, hot chocolates, and their company. (Though Logan complained about not getting to read, he still enjoyed the evening immensely.)

@sanderssidesspook

Taglist: @anuninspiredpoet @echomist13 @theresneverenoughfandoms

[half-bakedboy]

everything that i want (but didn't think i'd find)

Chapter Three

Rated: Teen Warnings: None Summary: Combat medic, Izzy, worked side by side with her pilot brother, Alec, to ensure the safety of the country and the most important people in their lives; their family.

Alec was starting a family with Magnus—a man Izzy never imagined her brother ending up with—and when the opportunity for them to get married on short notice during Izzy and Alec's summer block leave, Izzy couldn't have been happier for them. Izzy and Alec would make their way home to celebrate the momentous occasion and Izzy could leave everything behind without a second thought like she had when she was eighteen.

Falling in love with Magnus' sister, Clary, was never part of her plan and that threw her off kilter.

Izzy didn’t mind the way things changed after that. Living with Clary was enjoyable at the very least. They would spend their mornings drinking coffee on the balcony and sometimes Clary would bring out a sketch pad and draw whatever they saw that day. They didn’t have a bad view from the apartment; good for people watching and for Clary to practice her building design when Magnus inevitably asked her for her input on one of his projects. 

They could also smell the freshness from the ocean if they closed their eyes and let the warm air breeze against their faces. It had Izzy yearning for some time at the beach even though she wasn’t exactly what one might call an outdoorsy person. Clary, on the other hand, seemed to jump at the opportunity when Izzy suggested it. 

“I’ve wanted to go since I came back but Magnus isn’t exactly a beach person and I haven’t really been ablAbe to make many friends here,” Clary said excitedly. 

“Oh, I can’t imagine why,” Izzy teased. She held the door open for Clary to follow her back inside and laughed when Clary nudged her side a bit harsher than Izzy expected. “I was kidding , Clary, gosh!” 

“Mhm, I’m sure you were,” Clary muttered with a glare. Izzy could see the small smile on her lips, though. “Were you serious? About going to the ocean? There’s this spot I’ve walked by a few times that I would love to paint, unless that would be boring for you…” Clary trailed off almost nervously so Izzy shook her head. 

“That sounds great, actually. I can get some sun, drink some lemonade, listen to the podcast I’m trying to catch up on and you can paint to your heart’s desire.”

“Sounds like a pretty great first date if you ask me,” Clary pointed out. Izzy’s heart did a strange flutter at the word and she glanced at Clary with narrowed eyes. 

“That’s not what this is,” Izzy corrected, but Clary just shrugged. 

“Why not? If it looks like a date and feels like a date…”

“It’s not a date,” Izzy said again, firmer that time. 

“Whatever you say, Isabelle,” Clary said, drawling out Izzy’s name all too similar to how her brother always did. 

“I’m going to go get ready,” Izzy said, knowing when to back out of a losing battle. Clary was a lot of things and one of those was persistent. 

She walked into her room before Clary could say anything more and threw open her closet door. It had been over a year since she had been able to wear her bathing suit down to the beach and Izzy was more excited than was probably normal. It wasn’t often she got to wear anything besides her clunky uniform and she was just happy that in the next few weeks, she wouldn’t have to step foot outside with the camouflage fatigues. 

She sorted through the few bathing suits she had before settling on a powder blue bikini with more ruffles than almost anything else she owned. It was exactly what Clary wouldn’t have been expecting—which was definitely not the reason she chose it, no way. She got undressed and pulled on the bathing suit before choosing a floral wrap to put over it for their walk. It wasn’t too far to the ocean so she decided on some strappy but comfortable sandals and made her way back out to the living room. 

Clary was still behind a closed door, so Izzy began packing what she could for snacks and drinks. She took a play out of Alec’s book and made sure the cooler was filled with water before stacking in the alcoholic seltzers and juices that she really wanted to spend her day drinking. She added a few snacks to her bag before cutting up some veggies and fruits and tossing them in small plastic baggies to pass the time. She propped herself on the counter when she finished, staring at the door as she waited for Clary. 

After a few moments, she called, “What’s taking you so long?” 

“Coming, coming!” Clary yelled back. Izzy heard some rustling and then a few small crashes before the door finally opened. 

“You okay there, Fray?” Izzy said, trying to conceal the smirk on her face. 

“I got distracted putting together my supplies,” Clary replied, only looking a little embarrassed. She had a bit of something on her cheek like she was actually distracted with the art and not just the supplies, and Izzy thought it was adorable. 

“You got a little something…” She gestured to her face and Clary wiped at it quickly with a groan. 

“In my defense, I didn’t think you were actually going to let me draw at the beach,” Clary said quickly. 

“You are aware that you are, in fact, an adult who can make her own decisions, yeah?” Izzy teased. Clary swatted at her before grabbing a piece of fruit to toss in her mouth. 

“Tell that to my brother—and yours, actually,” Clary complained. 

“Those are for the beach,” Izzy whined, smacking Clary’s hand when she reached for another one. 

“Alright, alright,” Clary giggled. “Are you ready?” She asked, her eyes trailing along Izzy’s body once she jumped off of the counter. “How am I supposed to not believe this is a date when you look like that?” Clary asked with a raise of her eyebrows. Izzy felt just a little smug at that. 

“Because I said so?” Izzy replied easily, snagging the cooler and cloth bag from the counter before making her way to the door. “You coming or what?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she said gruffly, a pout forming on her lips. “But I’m gonna spend the entire walk there figuring out how to convince you that this should be a date.”

“Well, what a productive walk that will be then,” Izzy responded. She let the door shut behind them, feeling a new excitement for what the day had in store for them. 

“So,” Clary began after only a few minutes into their walk, “why do you make it so hard for me to flirt with you?”

Izzy blanched at the question. She should have figured Clary would insist on some form of conversation, but Izzy had hoped she could put it off for just a little bit of time if she walked fast enough. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Clary, it was that every time she opened her mouth, Izzy liked her a little more and that was dangerous. 

“Because if I made it easy, you might not do it anymore.” 

That wasn’t what Izzy had meant to say. 

“I— Has anyone ever told you that it’s really hard to focus when you’re around?” Izzy asked, hoping it sounded like the insult it was. Clary hummed and glanced over at Izzy as she caught up to her pace. 

“Yeah, but I have a feeling it hasn’t been for the same reason you’re thinking it,” she said, smirking. Izzy nudged her but the skin-on-skin contact proved to be too much for her brain to handle when mixed with the teasing banter they had between them. 

“And what reason might that be?” Izzy knew the question was a trap the second it left her mouth and held up a hand before Clary could answer. “No, wait. I don’t think I want you to answer that.” 

“But I had such a good response,” Clary whined. 

“I’m sure you did, but look,” Izzy said, pointing at the beach that had come into view, “we made it in record time for you to stop talking.”

“You know, if I didn’t know how cute you thought I was, I might be offended by your eagerness to shut me up all the time,” Clary muttered, rushing ahead with a few pointed skips. 

“The eagerness to shut you up isn’t the part I’m worried about,” Izzy whispered to herself as she followed, dropping her things on the sand. 

Clary set up her easel, moving it a few times before she seemed to find the perfect view. Once she did, she stretched her arms above her head and shook out her hands. It was something Izzy had noticed her do before she created any art and it had Izzy smiling for reasons she couldn’t quite understand. Maybe it was the familiarity or the way all of the tension in Clary from the walk visibly fell from her shoulders, but Clary was happiest when she was about to draw. Izzy liked seeing her happy. 

You know, the normal amount one would for a friend. 

“Did you bring any sunscreen?” Clary asked, suddenly panicked. “You probably don’t even need it cause you’re already so tan and perfect but this skin,” she pressed her fingers against her pale and freckled shoulder, “needs at least a few SPF to not burn to a crisp.” 

“You’re lucky Jace is as white as a sheet. I learned a long time ago to keep some in my beach bag.” Izzy tossed it to Clary who seemed delighted by the fact Izzy had it, but then she glanced over with a flirty look in her eyes and Izzy figured there was something more.

“Can you get my back?” She asked, batting her eyelashes. 

“Oh my god,” Izzy giggled, “that is the worst line ever. I can’t believe you just went there.”

“What?” Clary said, mock offended. “I just need help with rubbing this lotion all over my sensitive, delicate skin and you’re my roommate and friend who can help me.” 

“I’m going to help you, but just know when I decide to actually put moves on you, they’re going to be better than that .” 

“So that’s a ‘when’ then?” Clary noted. 

“Hold your hair up,” Izzy demanded, covering her with sunscreen before she could say anything more to incriminate herself. 

As she rubbed the lotion on Clary’s back, she realized that it was going to be a long day.

Izzy wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but the sand was comfortable and the weather was beautiful and she could hear Clary humming along to whatever song she had playing in her headphones. It was the most at peace she had been in a long while. It wasn’t until a few droplets of chilly water landed on her thighs, stomach, and chest that her eyes opened to yell at the clouds for producing rain when that wasn’t in the weather. 

Instead, Clary was standing over her, letting her sopping wet hair drip onto her skin. Izzy rolled onto her stomach quickly and glared at Clary who erupted into a fit of giggles. It would have been cute if Izzy wasn’t so annoyed at her peaceful slumber being interrupted. 

“C’mon, you’ve been out for like thirty minutes. One, you’re going to burn and two, I’m bored and want to play in the water,” Clary explained, hands on her hips indignantly. 

“I don’t really do the water thing,” Izzy said with a skeptical glance at the ocean. 

“Who lives by the beach and doesn’t swim?” Clary asked. 

“Uh, me?” Izzy answered with her best smile. 

“So, why not?” Clary asked, sitting down on the towel next to Izzy. There wasn’t a lot of room so Clary’s cold skin pressed against the bits of Izzy’s that had been warmed by the sun and it felt better than it should have. 

“Because,” Izzy said by way of explanation. She didn’t elaborate even when Clary sent her a look of intrigue. 

It wasn’t that Izzy was scared of the water, but she wasn’t part of the Navy for a reason. She could deal with being up in the air in a helicopter or in the middle of the desert in a tank, but the thought of being submerged into that much water terrified her. She could go swimming if she wanted to, but there was nothing fun about salt covering every surface of her body and whatever decided to check out the beach that day sliming up against her foot. 

“Don’t make me go in alone, Iz,” Clary pleaded but Izzy stood her ground. Or, really, she put her sunglasses back on and pressed her head into her arms. 

She felt Clary leave and let out a satisfied sigh as she soaked in the sun once more. She couldn’t relax fully, though, because she heard the telltale sound of Clary’s laughter echoing a few yards away and it was distracting. Not only was it loud and bright, but Izzy found herself more interested than she should have been in what the cause of it was. She made the mistake of turning her head in the direction of the noise, glaring when she saw Clary talking with a man in a blue swimsuit that hung too low on his hips and a body even Alec would be jealous of. 

“Don’t do it, Iz. Stay on your safety towel and ignore it,” she muttered to herself, hiding her face in her arms again. 

Except Clary burst into laughter again, a squeal leaving her lips at the same time. When Izzy looked up, the muscle man had her thrown over his shoulder and was running into the water. Clary looked like she was having fun but Izzy really wasn’t a fan of how much. 

Before she could stop herself, she had gotten up and thrown her sunglasses on the towel in order to stomp her way over to the water. Clary popped up from underneath the tide, a huge smile on her lips. 

“Oh, there she is! Come to join us?” Clary asked, raising her eyebrows almost like a challenge;  one that Izzy accepted immediately. 

“Yeah, you just seemed to be having so much fun over here and I just knew I couldn’t miss it.” There was so much sarcasm dripping from her tone, she was honestly surprised when the muscle man came over to greet her. 

“Hey, I’m Chad. I was just telling Cassie over here—”

“Hey!” Clary yelled, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly offended at the inaccurate name. Izzy chose not to correct him and held out her hand instead, gripping his as tight as she could when they shook hello. He winced and Izzy was satisfied. 

“Hi there. I’m Isabelle and I’m so glad there was someone to keep my girlfriend company while I was relaxing. This one is just so hard to keep up with sometimes, aren’t you, Cassie ?” Izzy said, accentuating the still incorrect name as she walked over and wrapped an arm around Clary’s neck. 

“Only because my girlfriend here is incredibly slow. Fast is much more my pace which I’m sure Chaz understands,” Clary said, insulting both Izzy and Chad in one breath. Man, she was incredible. 

Chad looked back and forth between them before someone called his name from a few yards away. He gestured over his shoulder and left without another word, but Izzy thought the fearful glance he sent her was worth the slap that stung against her shoulder. 

“First you want nothing to do with me and then you get all defensive over some frat boy who obviously doesn’t have a chance? Seriously, Iz, with the whiplash you’re giving me, I might need a medic,” Clary said. There was a hint of annoyance but it was drowned out by the smirk that spread across her face in satisfaction of her lame joke. 

“Well, I’m here now, and I’ll give you a head start before I push you underwater,” Izzy said happily, pulling her arm away from where it was still wrapped around her neck. She glanced down at her nails before peeking up at Clary. “You’ve got ten seconds.” 

“Are you—?” Izzy nodded before she could finish her question and Clary’s eyes went wide as she stumbled back into the water slowly, like backing away from a predator. 

“3, 2, 1…” 

Izzy pounced.

Izzy couldn’t remember the last time she had that much fun with someone that wasn’t Alec. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends, but she didn’t exactly jive with the girls in high school and she joined the military too soon after graduation to worry about making other friends. She was ‘one of the guys’, even though she hated that sentiment, so most of the people she socialized with didn’t want to go hang out at a beach for hours on end or play in the water like children. 

It was nice and Izzy could have easily found herself getting used to it. 

“Okay, okay,” Clary shouted after Izzy had lifted her out of the water to toss her a few feet away, “I give up. You are obviously stronger than you look and I am a mere weakling.” 

“Ahh, smells like sweet victory,” Izzy said with a sniff, “and also hamburgers?”

“I could eat,” Clary noted, wiping her hair away from her face and licking the salt from her lips. Izzy didn’t stare at them, she really didn’t. 

“There’s a nice place a short walk from here. Wanna make our way over there? No shoes required,” she added as an extra bonus. 

“Well, in that case, let’s go!” Clary yelled, practically prancing over to where their towels lay. 

They both dried themselves off and made small conversation as they showered away the salt from their hair and skin, both tossing on the dresses they had packed to cover up on their walk. 

“Do you come here often?” Clary asked. “Before you left, I mean. Or when you come back?” 

“To be honest, I wasn’t really ever planning on coming back. If Alec wasn’t getting married, I probably wouldn’t even be here.”

“And I would’ve had the apartment all to myself? Damn!” Clary teased, nudging her shoulder against Izzy’s as they walked. Izzy rolled her eyes and pushed her back playfully. “You haven’t really… made yourself at home at the apartment. I kind of assumed that was because of me,” Clary continued, glancing at Izzy sheepishly. 

“No, it’s— You are definitely not the problem.” She wasn’t and Izzy found herself not liking that she had made Clary feel that way. “As you have seen, my family and I don’t exactly… get along. I’m here to support Alec because he wants me here for his wedding and I want to be there for him, but right after the wedding, I’m leaving and probably not ever coming back.”

“Where will you go?” Clary asked. There wasn’t any judgment in her tone like Izzy had somehow expected. She had heard it from enough people in her life to start to expect it. 

“I haven’t finished out what I want to do as a combat medic so I guess… wherever they send me next.” 

“What is it that you want to do?” Clary asked. 

Izzy tried to ignore the way her heart jumped at the question. No one had ever really asked Izzy that. They said they admired her for what she did or that she was brave to do it, but it was all a show most of the time. Those people just wanted anyone listening to know they respected the armed forces by giving praise and buying her coffee. When she looked around, there wasn’t anyone for Clary to impress. She was just interested and Izzy warmed inside. 

“I want to change someone’s life. I—” Izzy paused to think for a moment before running a hand through her hair. “When I chose to enlist as a medic, it was because someone changed my life. I want to be that for someone else, I guess.”

“I’m sure you’ve changed a lot of lives, Isabelle Lightwood,” Clary noted. 

“You’re a dork,” Izzy commented with a roll of her eyes. “What about you?” Izzy asked, wanting to change the subject away from her. 

“What about me?” 

“What is it that you want to do?” Izzy clarified. “You have all of this art around our apartment so I can’t help but wonder what your plan is.”

“I don’t really… have one,” Clary admitted, almost sheepishly. It was an interesting tone for her. “Everyone always expects me to have this big business endeavor or a 5-year plan for the future of my art, but that’s exactly what I don’t want.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—” Clary took a breath and leaned her head back, staring up at the sky. “My mom always felt stuck. She had a gallery that she loved, but she couldn’t do anything more with it once she had decided to settle here. I thought about following in her footsteps like everyone expected me to, but…”

“That wasn’t you?” Izzy guessed. She understood that more than she thought Clary understood. “You want to go where your creativity takes you and hope for the best, I get that. It’s not a bad thing,” Izzy said reassuringly. 

Clary snorted, “Yeah, tell that to every single person I’ve ever met.” 

“I will,” Izzy said and she meant it. Clary knew it too as she shot a wide grin in Izzy’s direction. 

“Right now, I’m content living with the funds I’ve saved up and what my mom left me. I’ll… figure it out.” 

“For what it’s worth, I think your art is beautiful. If you ever decided to sell it or have some big convoluted business plan, I don’t think you’d have any trouble,” Izzy said honestly. 

“Is that a compliment I hear? Maybe even a flirt if I look too much into it?” Clary teased, bumping their hips together playfully. 

Before Izzy’s blush could take up her entire face, they reached the restaurant Izzy had mentioned. She pushed open the door and was greeted with the smiling face of her brother almost immediately. 

“What a sight for sore eyes,” Jace called, pulling Izzy into a tight hug.

“ Hermano , I was hoping to see you while I was here,” Izzy said truthfully, holding him at arm’s length and patting his cheek. “Alec said that you’re still considering the wedding?”

“Ah, always straight to the point with you, isn’t it?” Jace said, glancing over Izzy’s shoulder to where Clary was standing a few feet away. “She kidnap you or something?” Jace asked with a wink. 

“Very funny,” Clary said, moving forward to wrap him in a hug similar to Izzy’s. She stood back with a very confused look on her face that both of them laughed at as they pulled away. 

“Who do you think helped Clary move into you and Alec’s place? You know it wasn’t Magnus,” Jace said pointedly. “He tasked Simon and me to do most of the work while he drank a martini on the couch.”

“Sounds like him,” Izzy laughed. “How is Simon? I haven’t seen him around since we got back and neither of you graced us with your presence at Magnus’ welcome home party.”

Jace scoffed, “You mean the one mom took over?”

“Fair point…” Izzy trailed off, sharing a look with her brother that meant they both understood why Jace and Simon weren’t there. 

“Are there any Lightwoods that actually like Maryse?” Clary asked. When Jace and Izzy turned to her, she pressed her lips together, clearly thinking she was off base. 

“Max,” Izzy and Jace said together, both erupting into laughter.

“He’s still a kid so he’ll get there,” Izzy said like a promise. Jace nodded in agreement before his name was calling out from somewhere behind them. 

“Duty calls. Let Maia know that your food’s on me tonight.” Before Izzy could argue, Jace kissed her cheek and said, “Welcome back, sis.” 

They made their way to a table with a beautiful view of the ocean and Izzy sighed as she inhaled the fresh, crisp air. She could also smell the delicious food that was being cooked in the kitchen and smiled as she glanced back at Clary. Izzy couldn’t remember the last time she had been so content. Between her morning with Clary and being able to eat at Jace’s restaurant, it was safe to say that she was having a good day and those seemed far and few in between when she was in her hometown. 

“You’re really beautiful,” Clary said like it didn’t cause Izzy’s breath to stutter in her lungs. It was so matter-of-fact that Izzy let out a huff of laughter. 

“Thank you?” she responded. It wasn’t meant to be a question, but she figured she deserved an explanation for the random compliment. 

“I just have a feeling that people don’t tell you that enough. They’re probably too stupid or incredibly intimidated by you, but either way, I feel like you deserve to hear it.”

“I thought we agreed that the flirting would stop until I decided to start it again,” Izzy noted, calling back to their earlier conversation. Clary shook her head and held up a finger at her. 

“I believe it was a request; one that I did not agree to, I might add.” 

“So, we’re just going to… what? Continue to live together while planning our brother’s wedding all while flirting like we’re teenagers?”

“I don’t know. It sounds like a solid plan to me,” Clary said, grinning as Maia walked over to take their order. “You seem like a smart girl.”

“I’ve been told that on occasion,” Maia said instantly, winking at Izzy. “Why do you say that?” 

“Wouldn’t we make a really adorable couple?” Clary asked and Izzy choked on the water she was drinking. 

“Clary, please!” Izzy shouted, unable to hold back a little snorted giggle. “You do not have to answer that.” 

“Izzy looks good with everyone,” Maia noted, “but yeah, you two would absolutely make a cute couple. Good luck cracking through this tough exterior, though.”

“Hey,” Izzy said with a glare at Maia. “I could easily tell my brother to fire you,” she threatened, though everyone knew it was a total lie. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” She glanced at Clary and continued, “She’s a softie once you get on her good side, and considering she brought you here , you must’ve already snuck through a little.” 

“Are we allowed to order, or…?” Izzy said, blushing wildly and really hoping to change the subject. 

“Jace is already preparing your food, but Clary, what’ll you have?” 

Izzy didn’t listen to the rest of her order, opting instead to look a little too long at the woman in front of her. She knew the second she met Clary that it was going to be impossible not to be attracted to her, but she hoped that if there was any good in the world, it wouldn’t mean actual feelings. 

She hadn’t had those since high school, never letting herself get close enough to anyone around her to actually fall into a pile of cliched romance like she had seen both of her brothers do. She was happy for them and the lives they had created with their husbands, but she had never wanted that for herself. 

She didn’t like how immediately she wondered if Clary could change that. 

“So, any fun plans for the rest of the day?” Clary asked. 

Izzy resisted the urge to mention that other than panicking, not really.

[foxesandferrets]

Under an Umbrella

This is a collab piece for @ainudraws’ 31 Day Art Challenge Day #6! You can go see her lovely lovely art here! (And check out her other inktober pieces!)

I had a lot of fun writing this (when I saw the sketch I was like GWAAAH!) so I hope you like it!

(p.s. you guys should keep an eye out for more collab pieces coming soon ;))

********                          ********

The sound of the rain hitting the classroom window rings out like an assault rifle, a militarized attack on Hinata’s fun. He frowns at the wavering view of the schoolyard through the water streaming down the glass, everything soaked and gloomy in the gray darkness, washed of all color and happiness. Nothing fun ever happens on rainy days, at least not at school. At home he can wrap himself and Natsu in thick plastic yellow coats and rubber boots and head outside to splash in the mud until she starts to shiver and they head in and argue over who gets the first warm bath. He always lets her win, but the arguing is the fun part. At school, though, everyone is forced to stay inside, keeping safe, dry, and bored out of their minds.

“At least volleyball practice won’t be cancelled,” Hinata sighs, turning to Yachi sitting across the desk from him.

Yachi looks up from her manga and smiles, nodding. “See? The rain isn’t all that bad. And in the few days everything will be so green and pretty outside.”

“And muddy, so we’ll have to run in the gym.” Hinata slumps down, dropping his chin onto the desktop.

“It’s not so bad. Cheer up, everything will be back to normal soon.”

Hinata sighs, unhappy with how much of a damper the weather has put on his usually cheery mood. He feels like a plant, growing weaker and crankier by the second from the lack of sunlight.

Yachi turns back to her manga, and Hinata squints at the pink cover littered with sparkles and cherry blossom petals. He wrinkles his nose at the boy and girl on the cover. He’s never understood what girls found so interesting about shoujo; there’s no action, no volleyball, and the girls are uninteresting. Though, Hinata has never been particularly interested in girls in general.

“Oooooh, does Yachi have a cruuuush?” Hinata asks, lifting his head and wiggling his eyebrows. Yachi immediately goes scarlet, shoving the manga under the table.

“What? No! Of course not, this is just a really good series,” she tells him, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Let me see!”

“Shouyou!” She yells, but she’s not quick enough to stop him from reaching under the desk and snatching the manga.

He flips it open to a random page, squinting at the boy and girl fro the front cover standing beneath in front of their school. The girl is small and blonde, just like Yachi, and the boy is tall with dark hair and glasses, a mole near his mouth making him almost look like a boy version of Kiyoko. Yachi reaches to take it back but Hinata easily keeps it away from her, one of the only people he knows with shorter arms than his. He flips forward a few more pages, where the girl steps out into the rain without her umbrella, and the boy rushes to share his so she won’t get wet.

Hinata frowns again, he can’t even escape the rain in the fake shoujo world. The girl stands close to the boy, commenting on how warm he is, and Hinata suddenly remembers a time at the training camp when he woke up late at night closer to Kageyama than either would have voluntarily been when awake, but all his sleepy brain could make sense of was how warm the other boy was. Suddenly blushing, Hinata shoves the manga back towards Yachi, folding his arms and looking away.

“Whatever, take it. It’s boring anyway.”

Yachi takes it and puts it in her bag, dropping her burning face into her hands.

“That’s not real, is it?” Hinata asks, and Yachi shoots him a quizzical look. “I mean, people don’t really act like that, do they?” “Hm, I’m not sure,” Yachi replies, shrugging. “One time Kiyoko let me borrow her jacket to walk home when I forgot mine. I’ve seen things like that in manga before.”

A brief image flashes in Hinata’s mind, of Kageyama standing close, that same feeling of warmth pressed to his side, heavy raindrops falling all around them but not touching them. He shakes his head, forcing the thought away. What is he? A lovesick sitcom protagonist? He has other things to worry about than dumb tall boys with pretty blue eyes, like volleyball and meat buns. Things that matter.

The image sticks, though, no matter how hard Hinata tries to force it away, lasting all through practice and causing him to stumble a few times and miss tosses when he looks at Kageyama. He even contemplates taking a volleyball to the face to clear his thoughts, though he’s tried that before and it never managed to work.

“Hinata! Watch out!”

Hinata turns towards Daichi’s voice, but the words don’t register fast enough, and a volleyball lands hard on the top of his head, knocking him down. There’s a flurry of footsteps and shoes squeaking on the gym floor, the team appearing around him.

“I’m sorry! I misjudged my serve!” Yamaguchi apologizes, while Suga presses softly on the tender spot on Hinata’s head.

“Is your vision blurry?” He asks, while Daichi lifts Hinata into a sitting position.

“No, I’m fine. It wasn't that hard, really.”

“How many fingers am I holding up!” Noya calls out, holding up all ten fingers while Tanaka adds another handful to the side.

“You know, if he has a concussion and falls asleep he’ll die,” Tsukishima says bluntly.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi gasps, glaring at him.

“Shut up, he won’t die,” Kageyama says, finally wandering over to the rest of the group.

“You never know.”

“Tsukkiiiii!”

“I don’t think you have a concussion, but you should sit out for the rest of practice,” Suga tells Hinata, smiling gently in that way only moms should be allowed to do.

“Awww, but I-,”

“Suga’s right, rest for a while,” Daichi interjects, voice stern but caring. “Why don’t you head to the clubroom and change?”

“Yeah, fine,” Hinata grumbles, thankful to have a team that cares about him but feeling as if this day is just getting worse and worse. Volleyball practice was the one thing he was looking forward to, and now he can’t even finish that.

It’s all because of this rain, he tells himself as he makes his way to the clubroom, sticking his tongue out at the dark gray clouds hovering over him so close it's suffocating. If it weren’t for the rain he wouldn’t have seen Yachi’s manga, and he wouldn’t be having dumb thoughts about Kageyama acting like a proper shoujo boy, and right now he’d still be playing volleyball and everything would be fine.

Hinata changes quickly, grimacing at the way that everything in his bag seems to be slightly damp and cold, the rain water that found it on his way to the gym sinking in and pressing wet fingers to everything inside. He shivers as he slips a shirt on, his jeans snagging against his skin as he forces his legs in. At least his hoodie survived, adding a fraction of warmth and comfort, though not as much as the Kageyama daydream.

He shakes his head again, groaning loudly. “C’mon, Shouyou, pull it together!”

He fishes his umbrella from his bag, making to leave and get home early to spend the evening moping on his bed, when an idea strikes him. The only real way to combat a problem is to face it head on. Tanaka and Noya taught him that, and they haven’t failed him yet. If it’s a shoujo scene he wants, then it's a shoujo scene he’s going to get, and hopefully then things can return to normal.

Practice should be ending soon, so Hinata acts quickly. He steps outside, looking around to make sure no one is watching, and flings his umbrella with all of his strength, watching it glide through the rain and land heavily with a splash on the roof of the club room. Well, that’s one way to get rid of it, though he’s sure he’ll regret it next time it rains.

The gym doors open, laughter reaching Hinata’s ears through the sound of rain, and he quickly retreats back inside, positioning himself nonchalantly on the floor. When the rest of the team files in he pretends to dig through his bag, painting a concerned look on his face.

“Everything okay, Hinata? Are you feeling better?” Suga asks, kneeling beside him.

“Yeah, I’m fine Suga, I just can’t find my umbrella,” he says, speaking loudly on purpose to make sure everyone hears him. “I must have left it at home this morning.”

“I saw you with it earlier. The cute green one with the froggy eyes,” Yamaguchi pipes up from his other side, and Hinata’s cheeks flare red.

“No, I was just holding that for a friend! Besides, my umbrella is way cooler than that,” he laughs nervously. Yamaguchi knits his eyebrows together, confused, but doesn’t comment further.

“Well, maybe someone can share with you for part of the walk home,” Suga suggests. “We don’t want you getting sick after all.”

Yes, this is all going according to plan! “Yeah, sure, I’ll ask someone.”

After everyone is dressed the team leaves together, walking the familiar path towards Ukai’s store. Hinata hangs back, walking close to Kageyama but trying to seem casual.

“Where’s your umbrella?” Kageyama asks him, as if he hadn’t heard the conversation in the club room at all. Though, knowing Kageyama, he probably hadn’t.

“I forgot it this morning,” Hinata sighs, trying to look cute and pathetic. His mother always said he had good sad puppy dogs, so he might as well use them to his advantage.

“Dumbass. Didn’t you see the forecast?”

“Yeah, but I was in a hurry and left it by the door.” He shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, kicking at a puddle of water.

“Don’t get sick. I need someone to hit my tosses.” And with that, Kageyama keeps walking, his long strides leaving Hinata behind. His jaw drops open, starting to shiver as the rain water soaks through his hoodie and touches his skin. He was so sure that would work, but now he’s cold and wet and even more upset at the rain than before.

“I am a dumbass,” he mumbles, ducking his head and continuing on his path. The rest of the team is far ahead of him now, but he doesn’t care, he wants to be alone to wallow in his failure. He hopes he catches a cold, he deserves it.

By the time he passes the store the rest of the team is already gone, and he doesn’t bother going in, knowing they bought all of the meat buns. He keeps walking, when a flash of blue to his side stops him.

Suddenly the rain stops, or at least it stops just over his head, and a warm arm slinks around his side.

“You’re soaked, dumbass. What were you thinking?” Kageyama’s voice is in his ear, and Hinata doesn’t know what to do or say, frozen as his mental image comes true, though not quite in the way he’d pictured it. Kageyama must have been waiting for him here. The thought makes Hinata’s heart flutter. “Here. I got you this.”

Kageyama holds out a bag with a meat bun, and Hinata silently takes it. There’s a bite taken out of it, but he can’t formulate the words to comment on it. He’s almost too shocked to even eat. Almost.

“I...I forgot my umbrella,” he mumbles around his stuffed cheeks, the food restoring his ability to speak.

“I saw it on the club room roof. The green frog one,” Kageyama says, starting to walk again and pulling Hinata along with him.

“No, that’s not-,”

“Yes it is.”

There’s a pause as Hinata’s brain frantically searches for an excuse, but he can’t think clearly enough, his entire mind focuses on Kageyama’s chest pressed against his shoulder and the hand resting on his hip.

“Alright fine, yes it is.” He looks up, meeting Kageyama’s eyes that seem to shine a brighter blue in the gray of the rainstorm, and he swears he sees a hint of a smile pull at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t question him further, and Hinata is grateful, finishing his meat bun in the silence.

“You’re a dumbass,” Kageyama says, pulling Hinata a fraction closer, the wetness of his hoodie seeping into his jacket. “You’re going to get sick.

“You could’ve offered to share with me earlier,” Hinata replies, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“It’s not my fault you ‘forgot’ your umbrella. What is this, a shoujo manga?”

Hinata’s face burns, warmer than Kageyama’s touch. “No, of course not. Who reads those anyway?”

Before Hinata knows it they’ve reached his front door. He was so engrossed in the scene, in Kageyama’s warmth, that he hadn’t realized how long they’d been walking or where.

“You didn’t have to bring me all the way home,” Hinata says, feeling immediately cold as he steps up to the door, fishing his keys from his bag.

“Like I said, if you get sick I won’t have anyone to hit my tosses,” Kageyama shrugs, starting to turn away.

“Hey!” Hinata calls after him, not sure why or what to say. “Uh..thanks. For coming to my rescue.”

Kageyama doesn’t reply, just waves goodbye before continuing on his way home. Hinata watches him go, growing smaller and smaller on the horizon before turning and disappearing completely.

The raindrops seem different somehow, lighter and less assaulting as they patter against Hinata’s window that night. He lays awake listening to them like music, the walk home replaying over and over in his head like a happy movie. Maybe if he’s lucky, the rain will last a few more days, and Kageyama’s warmth will last even longer.

[papermoth-bird-blog]

New Orleans: Clowns & more curious things.

I’ve always thought the best way to really learn a city is to walk until you can’t walk anymore, and then, take the transit. I know I have a tendency to romanticize things, but New Orleans is feeding this reciprocally. I mean, it’s definitely more dangerous than the cities I’ve spend time in before, but it also has an air about it that draws you in. This is the start of Carnival season & many of the houses are decorated with beads and Banners already. Some even have floats parked in their backyards (7th ward). King cake is front & center in terms of deserts. It’s the most sugary thing I’ve ever tasted- crunchy, gooey, buttery- like candy-cake. Almost felt like something a 7 year old would make if left to their own devices in the kitchen.  Not usually my style at all, but it was worth it for saying I have. Other local foodie things that I liked a lot more were Swamp pop (particularly the Satsuma one) & Voodoo chips- which Asa and Leon definitely got me hooked on. Apparently you can get Voodoo chips everywhere in the states- but it’s definitely a Cajun thing, so I’m glad I tried them here first. 

New Orleans is as bright & filled with life, as it is dark & full of death. The houses are colourful and decorated, but many of them still have the spray paint markings left on them during the post-hurricaine search. For every fun-feathery mask, there is a decapitated Crocodile head. For every person playing jazz, there is a person behind a curtain reading palms, or tea leaves, or tarot cards or crystal balls, or what have you. 

Yesterday, I decided to get my palm read... because when in Rome. And let’s be honest, the reason I’m here in the first place is for similarly mysteriously-provoked reasons. I decided to go to Bottom of the Cup, which is one of the more established fortune-telling joints- and honestly, you probably pay a premium for that too. I was fine with it though, cause I’ve been pretty good so far about staying on the low end of the budget. So I’m sitting in the cafe for a good 20 minutes patiently with my camomile tea, when my reader rushes my me & kinda grumbles for me to come in. It was a man, which I didn’t realize would be strange for me- but I don’t think I’ve every had my fortune told by a man before. He honestly looked like something out of Tim Burton sketch book. Tall, thin, austere-looking. He was wearing black skinny jeans, rolled above the ankle with shiny black boots. He also had on a peacoat  that had the collar popped up beside his ears- which he kept on, even when inside, because everyone is freaking out about the “cold” in NOLA right now (it’s 8 degrees.. which is unseasonable cold here, but by comparison, it’s fine). He didn’t ask me much, but my Sign, which is Aries. He told me I didn’t have typical Fire hands- actually more Watery (but I had fire fingers apparently). Which is funnny, because most people, when guessing think I am a Pisces through&through. Honestly, I thought what he told me was pretty accurate- that I would be unhappy to settle doing one thing for too long, that I tend to have really deep-genuine connections that are slightly ephemeral by nature (because it would take a lot for me to settle down with one person). Something about a triple life-line? anyways. Anyways, what was more interesting,  was (maybe cause of my broken fate line?) he brought up that he really think I should do DEATH MEDITATION. I kept a pretty good poker face, but I was all WTF IS THAT. Basically he wants me to sit there & visualize my body decaying & sinking into the ground- apparently this will both help with any anxiety I feel (dunno bout that) & open me up to receiving messages from spirits. Of course, I’m thinking of the whole “go to new orleans to learn about death” thing. So might have to give that a shot soon. I have a recording of it too-- so for any of my close friends- we can listen to it together (Katie & Mare... I know y’all might want to). Charlie also mentioned I should be careful with my manifestation, because I’m very very good at it & I should use it more sparingly. Which I again, kinda poker-faced, because That has been another huge thing that has come up in my life more recently- I am really good at manifesting exactly what I’m seeking. Even freaky, off-the-beaten path type stuff... stlll looking for a witch for a place that has no seasons though, Mare.  (As another tangent, I have this thing where I test out if I can manifest certain songs as I’m walking though areas where the radio is playing. So far, fleetwood mac, rising appalachia & bob dylan have alllll met me there- which sure, could be co-incidence, could be magic???)

This, however wasn’t the most novel, or most curious thing I’ve been up to so far--- which has to be Clownless. Which, as you may remember from my previous post, is the all-clown cast adaptation of the 90s classic film ‘Clueless’. It was “staged” in the Marigny, in a very DIY type-theatre in what was either an old warehouse, or a large garage. The front was open & held a art show with works featuring clowns. Bright ones, Macabre ones, all sorts. Many people were dressed as clowns too- which made Asa wish that we had had time to dress-up before hand too (alas, we were at Sarah-Jane’s art show, which would have definitely of been less-appropriate). We were all jammed in the car tho, which meant we definitely looked like clowns as we all tumbled out of the front seat when we pulled up to the theatre. The play itself was a host for crude, queer, self aware comedy. It was definitely funny, but a little “sticky” at times. Overall, so glad I went, cause I mean, when else am I going to get that opportunity again?! It is funny how often clowns are coming up for me on this trip so far- I really don’t think the world is usually so clown-y. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the Zeitgeist. 

After the show, we all went back to the house and got into a big discussion about how odd Louisiana is as a place. I mean, it has a lot of influences- French, Spanish, English, American & the huge legacy the Slave trade has left on the place. The liquor laws were the fist thing. (I already talked about that though). Asa started to tell me about this strange tradition here called “Prison Rodeos” which is as barbaric and horrifying as you can imagine. It’s like modern day gladiator trials. Prisoners can win money by staying in a chair for the longest amount of time while a bull attacks them, and other “fun” stuff like that. And people go to these things. In droves. On the bright side, they also have prisoner craft-market things that the prisoners can sell their woodworkings, or leather-workings, or what have you. Asa showed me the really beautiful ostrich wallet & the really odd “Highwater dragon” sculpture that he got when he went. The fact that there are more people in the prison system today than were ever slaves really jumps out to me here. It’s “out of sight, out of mind” though, and so it isn’t really being thought of as the HUGE issue it really is. It’s been a super humbling experience in that way. 

Though not as horrifying (?) I was also told about other traditions that come from the swamp- including a certain kind of roast that I now forget the name of. But basically, it’s a roasted hog, stuffed with a racoon, stuffed with a Nutria (Which is a giant, swamp dwelling, dog-sized rat). And apparently this is an actual tradition. I’m not one to judge, but I sure am glad I am a vegetarian & have a valid cop-out for indulging in that one. 

Another tradition, which is far more familiar to me is ‘Fais Do-Do’. Which is the Lousianan answer to a Ceilidh. These fiddle parties, however more likely take place in a neighbourhood street, more so than a kitchen (probably cause of the heat). I’ve yet to go to one, but I’m working on manifesting one while I’m here still. 

In the 7th especially, I’ve found a lot of people have been greating me with “I hope you are staying warm.” Which I’ve just smiled about because, in Canada, this is late summer/ early fall kind of weather (which is kind of my favourite). I mean, there are still flowers in bloom here! Full blown blooming Magnolias. Too be fair, it is unseasonable cold here. A couple of days ago it was 8 degrees! Which happened to have been the same temperature it was in Halifax that day (but okay, it was unseasonably warm there that day). Yeah, I do wish that I was experiencing the normal 18-degree “winter” they have usually, but it’s definetly been okay with me. The only thing being, the houses and buildings aren’t entirely equiped for weather like this. The floors are tiled, ceilings really tall- designed to keep the house as cool as possible, which is great, except on days like these when they are then cooler than even the outside temperatures. 

If this was winter, I really started to wonder what summer was like over here. I mean, I can only imagine it being a little bit unbareable. Asa’s friend Satori described New Orleans as “Seasonally Biblical” in reference to not only the heat/humidity, but also the awe-striking influx of insects (including, termits & other kinds of swamp bugs). Apparently there is pretty much a mass exodus from the city, for those that can afford to leave. 

I love how people dress down here too. A lot of the people in the Bywater dress super gothic (and for that I am happy). Lace, black, pin-stripes- It’s a style Jack White would be pleased with. Many of the folks are also wearing fur in this weather- very 1920s vibes, but with slightly weirder & wilder cuts/colours. On my first day I even saw a man dressed up like a full voodoo priest (not even in a hokey way). He was just casually sitting on Elysian-Feilds, eating an ice cream bar. It was kinda glorious. 

Every morning, I’ve been the first to wake, which has kind of been nice. I usually eat my breakfast in the backyard with the cat & listen to the mardi gras beads lining the fence blowing in the wind. I then journal a little & think of all my gratitudes. It’s super peaceful & grounding. Missing the hali-fam rituals though. Overall though, I’m quite enjoying the amount of alone time I’m getting. Travelling alone so far, as been super rewarding. I feel braver & confident & more autonomous than ever. The only down side, I’ve discovered so far, is that you have to ask strangers if you still have powdered sugar on your face apres-beignets.