#lark writes

ooh did someone say established relationship cleradin??? 🧙🏻‍♂️⚔️✨

"I love you, Dad," He chokes out.

Phillip's arms tentatively fold around him.

"I love you too, son," He all but whispers, but Buck doesn't hear him.

Opposite businesses, soulmate tattoos, and hanahaki

Anyway, got briefly possessed by the idea again— this is not remotely done or polished or anything, but I played with Lucanis a bit to sketch out like the

General idea of how the hanahaki soulmate tattoos would work

Here’s some of it! Still very into the idea, conceptually! CW for some body-horror stuff— specifically, plants growing under ppls skin

***

In the Villa Dellamorte, there lived a man who could not tell anyone he loved them.

He had been afflicted with this ailment by his grandmother, who had it herself, and saw nothing wrong with it— but, of course, there was the issue of

The flowers.

In Antiva, they called the intricate, swirling foliage that unfurled in impressionistic brushstrokes the Flowers of the Soul; Fiori dell'anima. And they were considered a blessing to all who bore them for depicting the essence, the truest expression, of any relationship— of love, itself.

Of course, there had always been much argument as to what exactly each kind of flora (despite the name, it was never only flowers) meant. In Rivain, the Floriographers consulted the Seers to divine the meaning of the images; in Antiva, the ancient traditions concerning the reading of the cards informed interpretation; Floriographers in Tevinter carried magical repositories of knowledge from the time of the Old Gods, whose wisdom was twisted up in the rites of that time— in the South, they thought it a curse of those who refused to follow the teachings of Andraste and the Maker as they were written, and the flowers were feared. But no one in Antiva would pay heed to such Southern nonsense.

The man— Lucanis— had few of the spiraling designs. The fields of his parents' love were dead and gray at the base of his spine; the intricacies of each stem, blade, and petal muddled by time. There was the lean, enduring tree of his selfhood, whose sparse branches spread from his vertebrae. There was the clinging vine that belonged to Illario, which Lucanis pretended to himself was not like those he had seen on his travels, which killed the host, then died. And there was the thorny, resilient thing, with beautiful flowers hidden beneath its imposing spines, that he knew was for Caterina, but that they both pretended to ignore— until it could no longer be ignored.

Love, un-acknowledged, will consume its host. And so even though Caterina forbid her grandsons from consulting the Floriographers, or acknowledging the foliage— dismissing it as superstitious nonsense— the silent, subsumed nature of the love Lucanis possessed began to make the plants insistent. The vines became real, and grew beneath his flesh, and twisted about his spine; the thorns of Caterina pressed against his skin until they pierced it, leaving tiny holes, which spotted his clothing with blood.

Thinking about Steve and Lucas shooting hoops in a local park after everything happens. Max and Eddie are both still in the hospital, and Steve should be resting, too (a nasty infection that got worse before it got better), but Lucas is anxious. Restless.

Steve knows how to help with that. He can't fix anything, he can't offer solutions, but he can listen. So he takes Lucas to the park under the pretense of working on his form.

At first, they don't speak at all. Lucas is in his head, and Steve is patient.

They stretch, get warmed up. Jog back and forth across the court for a bit until Lucas gives Steve this look. He's ready to play.

Steve starts with the ball, and gets the first point without too much trouble. He doesn't go easy on Lucas; Lucas doesn't want him to.

Whatever advantage Steve might have from experience gets balanced out by the fact that he's simply not well, though, so it's not long before Lucas is beating him out.

After a certain point Steve's barely playing anymore, too exhausted to go running after the ball or shoot.

He's just standing between Lucas and the hoop, now, watching as Lucas shoots, then passing the ball back to him when it goes through the net.

It's nearing sunset when Lucas finally says something.

"Do you think they'll wake up? Either of them?"

Steve doesn't know. He hopes so. Can't let himself believe that they won't. "They're fighters," he says instead. "Both of them."

Lucas frowns. He bounces the ball once, twice. Makes like he's going to shoot, and then sighs.

He sits down on the pavement and buries his face in his hands.

"Hey," Steve says, softly. His core strength isn't what it was before the bats tried to eat him, so it's a struggle, but he manages to sit himself down next to Lucas. He puts a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be ok."

"How can you know that?" He's very nearly as tall as Steve now, but curled in on himself like this Steve is reminded of how small he used to be. How small all the kids used to be.

"I don't," Steve admits. Lucas curls himself even tighter. "But we gotta believe, right?"

"I guess."

Steve takes the ball from Lucas. "When you're lining up a shot, you have no way of actually knowing it will go in, right?"

Lucas gives him a look, but he doesn't interrupt.

"You know how to throw the ball. Where to aim it. But you don't know until it's in."

He mimes the action of setting up a shot. "You just gotta trust your body to get the ball where it needs to go. It's the same thing."

"It's really not."

"It is. All it takes is faith. We gotta trust that they'll pull through. We can make it easier for them, that'll help, but—"

Lucas cuts in. "But what if she doesn't?"

Steve's jaw snaps shut. He gives Lucas' shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"What if she never wakes up? How am I supposed to just— just— keep going? I already miss her so much."

"You can't think like that."

Lucas glares at the pavement.

"I know you miss her." Steve does, too. Fuck, he misses her so much. "She'd kick your ass if she heard you talking like that, though."

"Yeah." Lucas huffs out something that sounds a little like a chuckle, a little like a sob. "I know."

"Whatever happens, we'll work through it. As a team, right?" He gives Lucas' shoulder a small shake. "Max will wake up. I know she will. But she needs your support, too, ok? So don't go doubting her now."

Lucas nods. He sniffs and scrubs his hands over his face. "Ok. I won't."

"Good." He struggles up to his feet, and then offers a hand out to Lucas.

Lucas accepts, but doesn't actually let Steve take on any of his weight. He knows that Steve is still hurt, no matter how healed he tries to present himself as.

"Come on," Steve says "Let's get you home."

Later, when Steve's alone again, he climbs up to his room. He stumbles into the bathroom, ignores his reflection when he passes by the mirror, and throws himself into the shower.

The water is as hot as he can stand it. He sits down in the tub and feels the water hit his skin.

When he's done, he barely has enough energy left to towel off. He collapses into bed, ignoring clothes entirely, and turns onto his side to watch the last bits of sunset through the crack in his blinds.

After it's dark, he digs around under his pillow.

Eddie's vest is still covered in blood and grime. It's crusty and stiff and stained, but even through all that Steve can still smell smoke and cheap detergent.

He cradles it against his chest, and thinks of all the things he really wants to say now. Things might not get to say.

Steve doesn't believe in God, he hasn't since he came face to face with a monster in the Byers' living room, but still he prays. He prays that Eddie and Max will wake up. That they'll be ok.

Max's hair tie is around his wrist, and Eddie's vest is under his pillow. Always.

He needs them to wake up.

He needs his little sister back.

He needs his— his— He needs Eddie back.

Max's letter is unopened on his bedside table. He won't read it. Whatever she has to say to him, she can say when she wakes up.

What Steve has to say to Eddie will wait, too. It will wait until he wakes up. Until he's well again.

Hey @anamelodemelo! I’m a little(almost two months) late, but I was your prumano secret valentine! Big thanks to @prumano-week for organising this whole thing and @snowywolff for kicking my butt into gear to finish this. 

Your prompts were  Kiss, Funny, Fancy, Date, Nyotalia and I tried to cover all of them! I used fannames because I couldn’t find any good names for the Nyo!s, so Nyo!Prussia is Zoe and Nyo!Romano is Elena!  I hope you enjoy it!

Kissing + Mishaps = Kisshaps

They’ve been doing the same thing for years, curled up in blankets and surrounded by junk food, a cheesy movie neither of them has ever heard of blaring on the screen across the room. The same thing, except it’s changed. Both of them have grown, but not much, perpetually stuck below 5’4. Elena’s room has gone from pink hues and stuffed animals to reds and greens and potted succulents on the windowsill. Zoe cut off most of her long hair and Elena wears makeup now. But they’re still the same kids who met years ago on a playground. 

holly, to her cousin richie’s chagrin, tags along with the loser’s club and soon recognizes that something supernatural is afoot. she loops mike in (depressed, brooding, totally not repressing anything at all btw) who calls in reinforcements from nancy in MA and the hopper-byerses in new york. (the rest of the gang somehow make it to derry from indiana too, bc i want to see steve hit pennywise with the nail bat.) they all band together to defeat this new interdimensional monster, with the party seeing themselves in these young kids who are going through the same thing they did.

important: will is to richie what eddie was to mike. turns out the cousins actually share the same fear, although they’re not gonna share it with the other.

as they battle It, who else swoops in to save the day but el, who has been tracking supernatural threats across the country and working to make the world safe. cue reunions, It has been defeated, finally the st gang get closure.