Blue skies smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies, all I see...
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Although it does not depict a scene from the fic, this piece was greatly inspired by @fushiglow's glorious work Over the Threshold (is anyone surprised by it anymore, lol?). The part of Glo's story that sees Suguru rising to prominence and stardom even before Satoru's first ventures in the music industry isn't (yet? 👀) covered in the fic, but my mind tapped into it and ran with it — and this came to me as a result!
Hope y'all will enjoy this as much as I did drawing it!! Literally had the time of my life with Satoru's jacket and Suguru's hair, teehee!
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Incoming soft hangster headcanon:
Bradley’s love language is physical touch and Jake’s is quality time, which works out perfectly for their relationship.
Jake loves that Bradley is always attached to him because it means they’re always spending time together, even if it’s just a lazy day around the house. Bradley loves that he and Jake are always hugging, kissing, cuddling, or stealing innocent touches, and that his boyfriend never seems to mind🥰
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒: dust tucked in the corners to form little piles that spilled out between the grout hugging the uneven terra-cotta tiles, bits of sand and gravel scattered around the place like a storm’s passed through, and the stale desert air that’s so oppressive it’s continuing to bake the entire compound well into the night.
But it’ll have to do. With this being the only shelter around, you’ll have to suck it up unless you want to hoof it an entire city over with 30 kg of gear – nearly an hour south of where you are, if not more; there’s really no luxury of complaining about your current accommodations despite the feeling that these four walls made of adobe brick seem much better at regulating temperature than keeping out any hostiles that could still possibly be on your trail.
The whole situation's unfortunate. You would’ve slept on the floor if you could guarantee that sand wouldn’t find a way to cram itself up your nose. So, you’d opted to share the shitty, lumpy mattress in the bedroom with the Lieutenant.
"Oi, quit movin'," he huffs out through the dark, his heavy voice cutting into the midnight blackness that seems to swallow up the room. It's impossible to get a good look at him without much light, but you can see the outline of his figure when you move your head to the side.
You’ve been tossing and turning, not even really to do with the discomfort of the bed – wretched thing – but the knowledge that the people hunting you down could close the gap within a matter of hours if they wanted to. It's been more staring up at the ceiling than anything since the two of you decided to retire for the night.
And then Ghost continues, “I’m tryin’ to sleep.”
He’s not. He doesn’t sleep well – insomnia, maybe. With the way he is on some missions, you’d be hard-pressed to think that he ever gotten a full night’s worth of uninterrupted shut-eye. Always staying awake, always assigning himself to the graveyard shift for watch while everyone else squeezes in a few hours of rest before the sun comes up. Of course, he’s never bothered to tell you if that’s really the case – having trouble going down for some sleep – and you’ve never cared enough to ask. The two of you aren’t necessarily on close terms like that.
"The idea that they're still out there is making me a little restless," you admit – feels odd to be sharing your fears with him, but maybe that'll get him off your back, make him tone his temper down.
“I wouldn’t worry about that.”
A scoff leaves your mouth. "Easy enough for you to say."
“Yeah, it is. And you know I'm not gonna let that happen, because anyone that tries, is gonna have to get through me first.”
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James: Oh no, your hands are cold. Take my coat, my gloves. Here's a mug of hot tea. Do you want my scarf? Do you want a hug?
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Regulus: Oh, your hands are cold.
*disappears for a few minutes*
Regulus, coming back: I stole gloves for you. Also I stole some parchment to some Ravenclaw to make a fire.
*gets out his wand drammatically while James fears he's going to set the castle on fire but watches him go without saying anything, slightly scared but fond anyway*
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thinking about how if jean did die in the final draft of aftg his death would’ve just haunted neil but neil wouldn’t be able to figure out why after all the death he’s seen that jeans is the one to bother him and he eventually realizes it’s bc it reminds him of his mother’s death bc in both situations he got to walk away from his tormentors (riko and his father, not without pain and suffering) and the person by his side didn’t get to do the same either time .
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