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Character Intro

▸ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ || everyone

Hunter didn’t used to check the time this much. He used to linger. Used to stop at food stalls or walk a little slower when the breeze was nice. But now, as the first hint of dusk painted the tops of the buildings in gold and gray, his shoulders tensed beneath his jacket and his hand slipped instinctively into his pocket to check the hour again. He kept walking, hands stuffed into his pockets, hoodie up, hood tighter than it needed to be. The warmth helped, even if it was just in his head. Even if the cold that had crept into his bones days ago had never fully left.

He didn’t remember it, not really. Just flashes, cold breath, crunching snow, bells, maybe, but they only came at night, and only in dreams that felt like warnings more than memories. He told himself it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. That was easier. Easier than explaining why he flinched when sleigh bells jingled too close or why he hadn’t stayed out after dark since the Winter Fair.

Hunter glanced over his shoulder once, then again, casual, not paranoid, he told himself. Just careful. A group of kids ran past him, laughing, throwing snowballs. One caught him on the shoulder. He didn’t yell. Just stared. They apologized and ran off, but it took him another full minute before he moved again.

He muttered to himself, barely audible. “It’s just winter. It’s fine.”

#wastarter

vinemagic

⸻🎃 " I AM PREPARING YOU EMOTIONALLY. YOU KNOW? So the screaming feels balanced. " As they wouldn't mind heart-felt speeches time to time. Believe it or not sometimes there well needed. While the wagon creaked beneath them ⸻ lanterns swung overhead as fog swirled around distorting the glow. Scattering faint light across Hunter’s features.

But the moment Hunter’s thumb brushed over there hand ⸻ something sparked beneath the skin. Small ⸻ bright ⸻ impossible to ignore. As it wasn't magic. Not the kind they could name or summon. But it felt ⸻ alive? Like tiny fireworks going of under the surface. As it was warm &. spreading up there arm in tingling waves. There ears wiggled ( again ).

As it was an involuntary movement that felt deliberate as the fluttering feel of bee-wings against there ribcage. Comforting. Dangerous in an way they didn't want to examine yet. &. for an moment. Willow didn't know what to say. While the weight of Hunter's words lingered in the air ⸻ in the fog between them. There chest tightened in an way that had nothing to do with fear.

&. everything to do with how tiny sparks blooming in the space between there heart-beats. " Me to. " They liked being around Hunter. While they felt there body heat-rise ⸻ heart-rate going up ⸻ betraying them even as they tried to stay composed. But this wasn't magic. This was just steady &. golden ⸻ impossibly gentle “ Hunter ⸻ ”

" You don't have to try to be someone worth keeping. You already are. " Smokey-quartzs never leaving his gaze ⸻ as they just wished there heart stopped doing that strange ⸻ fluttering thing soon. " You are thoughtful ⸻ kind ⸻ &. brave in ways you don't even see yet. " As Hunter was important ⸻ to Gus ⸻ to Flapjack ⸻ to Clover ⸻ &. themselves.

But it wasn’t something they needed to say but for Hunter to find that out on his own. &. Hunter will figure it out. Eventually. As an crow cawed somewhere in the dark ⸻ the sound was warped by distance. While the horses up in the front snorted ⸻ uneasily. Feeling there cheeks warm-up ⸻ faintly-colored rose-quartz. " I feel safe with you⸻ "

As they were as sure as oak-roots. " Even when you're scared. Even when you don't have all the answers. Because I know you'd never hurt me. " They knew he'd stand between them &. anything that tried. Because he’s already done it. They'll always remember the way Hunter stepped between them &. Mr. Deamonne. Remembering that someone so young stood so tall ⸻ all instinct instead of choice so young.

. . . The tension in his jaw ⸻ the way he braced himself for impact. Breaking out of there thoughts remembering that moment when Hunter squeezed there hand ⸻ reflexively returning the squeeze. " That's ok ⸻ it's a good thing I like ‘ a lot ’ in my friends. " As they giggled as there friend group could be centered around that. &. in an way aren't they all ‘ a lot ’ in there own way? Feeling the soft nudge as they finally felt like they could look away. But doing so made the hair on the back of there neck stand up ⸻ as if something was watching ⸻ watching from the edges unseen like ghosts ⸻ with there phantom stares. Not sure if what Hunter said left them like this or was there something out there watching. As an distant rustle. An heavy unknown shuffle. To deliberate to be wind.

" We'll face it together ⸻ " they hummed optimistically. " Whatever's out there. Whatever comes next. " As they didn't know what was to come but if something happened to them they knew Hunter would take care of Gus &. Gus would take care of Hunter. So they felt ok with that outcome.

huntcrashes

Hunter let the silence stretch a second longer, letting her words sink in, not just drift by like so many others had in his life. They didn’t glance off his armor or get filed away for later. They landed. Tethered. Stayed. Willow always had a way of doing that. Speaking softly and striking true.

His throat worked as he swallowed. He didn’t pull his hand back, just let their fingers rest together, warm and steady in the cold. “…You always say things better than I ever could,” he said at last, voice quieter than usual. “It’s not magic. It’s not… a glyph or a spell. You just see people. And somehow, you still stay.”

There was wonder in it. A flicker of disbelief that hadn’t dimmed since the day she'd first called him friend without hesitation. That she saw all the cracks in him and still thought he was worth holding onto.

The faintest breath of a laugh escaped his nose when she mentioned liking “a lot” in her friends. “That’s good. ‘Cause I think I broke the meter,” he murmured. “Full-on, emotionally constipated disaster with anxiety settings cranked to eleven.”

But even the self-deprecating remark held less bitterness than it used to. Being around Willow had a way of softening his edges. Not blunting them, just reminding him he didn’t have to be sharp all the time.

Then her hand squeezed his again, and Hunter looked down at their joined hands like they were some small miracle. Something fragile and fierce all at once. The sound behind them, faint rustle, slow and deliberate, had his instincts snapping to attention. His body tensed, eyes scanning the mist beyond the wagon without moving his head. A quiet readiness. Not fear, exactly. Just awareness.

He didn’t let go of Willow’s hand. “I heard it too,” he said under his breath, eyes narrowing toward the shadows in the trees. “Stay close.”

The lantern above them flickered once, then stilled.

Hunter shifted, barely, enough to place himself between the sound and Willow, his other hand resting near the hilt of the staff strapped to his back. “…We’ll face it together,” he echoed, low and sure, like a promise carved into stone.

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨willow p.⎬

Haunted by the dark Hunter's perspective...

The cold lingered longer than it should have.

He didn’t remember what happened. Not really. Just fragments, snow that wasn’t snow, shadows that moved wrong, a sound like bells dragged across ice. He remembered being cold. Not the sharp, honest cold of winter air, but something deeper. A cold that seeped inward, that made time feel slow and heavy. A cold that didn’t care if you were brave.

He recalled the dig of claws in his arm and the feeling of being dragged. He hadn't fought against the pull. He'd resigned. There was no point in fighting something that wasn't real...and it couldn't have been real. Nothing was that dark. A couple of hours were missing. Maybe more. He couldn’t tell. When he tried to think too hard about it, his head filled with static and his chest tightened until breathing felt like work. People told him he was safe now. That it was over.

Hunter nodded. He smiled when he was supposed to. After all, nightmares were just that. Nightmares. They ended and then disappeared slowly from memory and time. But when the sun started to dip, something in him pulled tight.

Dusk made his skin prickle. Twilight stretched too long. Nightfall felt like standing at the edge of a cliff you didn’t remember climbing. He started watching the sky without meaning to, counting the minutes until dark like it was a deadline he might fail. He didn’t want to be out late anymore.

Home felt smaller now but safer. Lamps stayed on longer. Curtains stayed drawn. He learned the exact moment when the city’s sounds changed, when laughter thinned out, when footsteps echoed instead of blended, when the world felt like it could notice you again.

He knew his body was on to high of an alert over a nightmare. He'd heard there were other's who'd experienced something but he must have just fallen into his imagination about their ordeals. Because if it was a nightmare, then it couldn’t happen again. If it was a nightmare, then the fear didn’t mean anything. If it was a nightmare, then the way his hands shook when the cold crept in was just his body being dramatic.

But nightmares don’t teach you routes home by heart. Nightmares didn’t leave bruises on your skin. They didn’t make your breath feel thin for days afterward, like your lungs were still remembering a place where air barely mattered. They didn’t follow you into daylight and sit quietly in the corners of rooms, waiting.

Hunter told himself it was just his mind trying to protect him. That fear was a leftover reflex. That eventually, it would fade.

Still, when night came, he made sure he was inside.

Just in case the nightmare was watching.

#the haunting of the krampus #he's so in denial!

▸ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ || @vinemagic

The frost-laced branches of the conservatory shimmered in the lantern light, casting long shadows across the greenhouse paths like spun silver. Inside the Botanical Gardens, winter had taken root in the most magical way, glowing paper stars hung from branches, potted evergreens dusted with powdered snow lined the walkways, and the air smelled faintly of pine, citrus, and magic. Somewhere in the distance, a string quartet played a slow, wintry waltz. Soft. Peaceful. Almost enough to quiet the noise in Hunter’s chest.

He stood by the frostbloom exhibit, gloved hands tucked into his coat pockets, watching the magical flowers shift hue in time with the music. Blue to lavender. Lavender to pale gold.

Hunter didn’t always do well in crowds, not these days. But something about the gardens tonight felt…different. Like a pocket of quiet in a city that had forgotten how to exhale. He hadn’t expected to linger long, just a walk, maybe a breath of fresh air, and then he’d vanish like a ghost before anyone could say hello.

He glanced sideways when footsteps crunched nearby. His eyes softened when they landed on a familiar shape. “Hey,” he said, voice barely more than a murmur. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew tonight. But I’m glad it’s you.”

#event; willow

for-those-who-wait

Sleeby

#♡ ⁄ 𝑅𝑒𝒻𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 ミ 𝕒𝕝𝕥..

mainlymirabel

Mirabel, before this stranger had transformed the situation entirely, had sensed within her what her immediate and extended family would’ve lovingly called “Mirabel’s fire”. (That was why she’d wanted to talk to the press.) “Mirabel’s fire” meant that Mirabel would not just take on a problem—she would plunge into it headfirst and find the solution as quickly, and as powerfully, as possible. “Mirabel’s fire” was the opposite of wise. But it was effective.

When the stranger started to speak to her with calm, collected insight, however…Mirabel felt her fire start to ease. He was right, and this was a missing person they were talking about. Alerting the whole city could get them hurt, or create more drama around the problem than…well, than what this conversation was—a reasoned attempt to just help.

So she nodded, and, as his gaze moved to the botanical garden, she murmured, “I see.” Her tense posture, already prepared to carry her straight to the closest people that would listen, relaxed somewhat. She was, now, ready to be clear-sighted…to get this right.

The stranger who was giving her such good advice was someone to take seriously. At least six feet tall, with a pet(?) of some variety alighting on his shoulder and puffing up, he was the sort of individual you didn’t forget about easily—the kind that exuded “important” energy (or was that her imagination?).

It wasn’t. Talking again, the man was saying he “had people at the council building”. (And that was a very good thing, for the task before them.) He was offering his assistance, with whatever the mission may be; and he was holding out his hand.

Mirabel—very conscious of her hot pink, ruffled, maxi skirt completely unsuited to the importance of this moment—took it and shook.

I think we both want the same thing. So let’s do this right. Precisely—and fortunately, when fortune didn’t always favor Mirabel—what she’d wanted to hear.

“Mirabel Madrigal,” she told Hunter, making eye contact and offering a somber half-smile. “I’m from the Madrigal family in Old Elias—we’re community helpers, and I’m very used to problems that are tangible, problems that have roots you can see.”

She looked back at the botanical garden, where…wait, was that…

“Oh, my God, is that the guide?” Mirabel said with palpable happiness. (This was, actually, too good to be true; but Mirabel was letting her hope take precedence over her own ominous hunch.) “Let me go over and see if she’s okay real quick. I may be wrong, and this could just be her replacement…but there’s a good chance that this was just a false alarm.”

Two minutes later, though, after Mirabel had felt all that palpable happiness drain right out of her, it was clear that it was not a false alarm.

This was another guide. And this woman had been trying and trying to get in touch with the person who’d been supposed to have been on the job all morning…to absolutely no reply.

“Which is odd, because she’s never not answered a text to either of her phones within five minutes…”

Mirabel headed back toward the sidewalk.

“She’s really missing,” Mirabel said without looking up, praying that Hunter was still there. “I don’t need to confirm it anymore—I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she’s gone.”

She felt her hands begin to shake. Why was this happening to people?!

“If your offer to come with me to the council building still stands,” Mirabel said to Hunter, as she hoped that it did, “then I would be extremely grateful for your help. Thank you so much, Hunter.”

huntcrashes

Hunter hadn’t moved from where he stood on the edge of the garden, still as a post with Flapjack fluttering lightly on his shoulder. He’d watched Mirabel cross the path with a hope so fierce it could’ve burned through stone. That same hope was already fading from her shoulders as she returned.

And when she finally spoke, "She’s really missing", he heard it in her voice. The fear many people in the city now had. He nodded, quiet at first, letting her words settle.

“Then we don’t waste time,” he said, the weight of her name still warm in his memory. Mirabel Madrigal. A name with history, with spark.

“We’ll go to the council building." He nodded hoping to reassure her somehow. “And if they don’t want to listen? We’ll make them.”

Hunter wasn’t used to offering that kind of certainty. He usually kept things closer to the chest. But there was something about her that made him want to help. He reached up, giving Flapjack a light tap on the beak, a silent signal. The bird took off, scouting ahead like it understood just how serious this had become.

The path ahead curled into shadow, lanterns flickering to life above them as the city deepened into late afternoon. Hunter glanced sideways, just once.

“You said your family solves problems with roots,” he murmured. “Well... let’s start digging.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨mirabel m.⎬

shadowjinu

somehow, it felt like too much to explain everything he'd been through to a stranger. jinu didn't want to come across as weak to people. he wanted to be that effortless man on stage who quite literally didn't have problems. yet, he was the furthest from that he could be. these days, he didn't know how to conduct himself in public settings. with the missing citizens, he knew the mood around elias had changed.

"that doesn't bode well for a city welcome sign, i suppose," he joked. bringing back the attitude that nothing was wrong. jinu wondered if other people were as jumpy as he could be sometimes. there was nothing wrong with it other than he didn't want to show that sort of weakness around people.

that's the problem, he thought to the statement. he didn't want the memories anymore. they were painful. "well sometimes i feel like i'd rather lose it than relive some of those memories," he shrugged. "it's always the painful ones that echo." except they weren't for him. they were always the mundane ones. a giggle, a song, a shared silly look.

"no, not really. i'm actually pretty quick on my feet most of the time." a fighter's stance, a dancer's stance—pick one because they were both the truth. "less so these days for obvious reasons." of course, jinu knew there was no reason he couldn't walk around.

huntcrashes

He recognized the posture, shoulders drawn just a little too tight, words shaped to sound fine even when they weren’t. The kind of deflection someone used when they were balancing too many things inside and didn’t want to risk one spilling out. He’d done it himself more times than he could count.

So instead of pushing, Hunter shifted slightly, letting the fog settle around them like a blanket instead of a threat. Flapjack ruffled his feathers once, sensing the tension but staying quiet on his shoulder. “You’re not wrong,” Hunter said finally. “It is the quiet memories that cut the deepest. The ones that don’t look like they should hurt until they do.”

Hunter glanced over at Jinu. “The world doesn’t leave much space for the in-between, huh? Either you’re standing strong, or you’re crumbling. No one tells you how to just… exist while figuring it out.” Hunter kicked a loose pebble with the toe of his boot. “Quick on your feet, huh?” he said eyebrows lifting just slightly. “You don’t look like you’ve tripped over a city trolley lately, so I’ll believe it.”

He adjusted his jacket with a shrug. “And hey, for what it’s worth, the welcome sign’s definitely seen better days. I think the last one still had scorch marks. Guess that’s part of the charm.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨jinu s.⎬

clawthorncs

king stared at hunter like he had just delivered the gravest insult known to titan-kind. "a mega-sock?" he gasped, hand on his chest like he’d been shot. "hunter. " he leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "that’s a hate crime."he didn’t wait for hunter to recover.

" for your INFORMATION," he announced loudly enough that two nearby tables glanced over, "neon cats and glitter explosions are the building blocks of a well...rounded soul. some people," he added, flicking his hand toward hunter as though presenting evidence to a jury, "are made of discipline, and quiet suffering, and lists. i am made of ART."he poked hunter’s cheek. "and glitter. which, by the way, is a sign of vitality. you’re welcome."

the bartender dropped off his fried monstrosity and king slid back into the booth, grabbing a handful with zero dignity and infinite enthusiasm. "also," he said between bites, "the banana experiment was SCIENCE. brave science. one day you’ll thank me when destiny bends before our freezer."

he pointed a fry at hunter, eyes narrowing with dramatic challenge."and separating socks by pattern family is JUST color-coding with extra steps. don't gaslight me." he leaned back, feet up on the opposite seat

huntcrashes

Hunter wasn't able to stop himself from rubbing his face with his hand at King's comments. "A hate-crime? Towards the socks?" His tone was incredulous with a slight note of exhaustion but he did his best to real in his confusion.

“You know what most people do with bananas?” he said reaching for a fry from King’s plate with unbothered precision. “They eat them. Without cursing an entire kitchen appliance in the process.”

He sat back, eyes drifting to the window for a beat as if half his mind was still in the Boiling Isles, trying to figure out how to exist. But the other half, the part tethered to the now, was here, across from a chaos gremlin with glitter on his hoodie and a plate full of cholesterol crimes.

Hunter flicked a glance back to him, sock comment finally landing. “You named your sock families, King,” he said flatly. “You made a Google Doc. You categorized them by personality traits.” He popped the fry in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “It wasn’t gaslighting. It was an intervention.”

“…Still say the freezer’s haunted, though.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨king h.⎬

mainlymirabel

open starter

who: mirabel and anyone ( 1 out of 3 taken ) where: elias botanical garden, exterior when: noon

It was rare that Mirabel got an opportunity to explore New Elias. Most of her days off (read: half-days off—her efforts were never not needed), Mirabel would enjoy everything that Old Elias had to offer—the bakery, the record store, the animal shelter. But the morning’s meeting with an activist group to better coordinate the Madrigal family’s visits to New Elias had left Mirabel beside the botanical garden…and hugely curious about what lay inside its walls.

Unfortunately, the guide that Mirabel had expected to be waiting there was…missing.

“She didn’t show up this morning,” one of the gardeners explained as they watered a flowerbed. “Usually they have somebody else fill in, though…”

Mirabel, disconcerted (was this her first real encounter with one of the missing people cases?), left the botanical garden in a daze. Somebody walking down the sidewalk bumped into her—hard—and she barely noticed.

This was more than scary. This was more than chilling. This was…well, how would Mirabel have phrased it to one of her sisters? “Absolutely uncalled for”? “The kind of thing you would hope never happens to someone you love”?

It was like the war all over again. It was like those days when you couldn’t be sure you would see someone in the morning.

A person was lingering on the sidewalk—they’d probably seen Mirabel and that other person collide with each other and wanted to know if she was okay. Or they saw the look on her face—fear, and the beginnings of a plan. Her eyes were wide, but her jaw was set.

Mirabel turned to the person and asked them, “What’s the first thing you would do if…if you thought you’d found out someone was missing?” She swallowed. But she also felt a rush of determination—Mirabel would handle this right.

“Would you go straight to the council building and try to let them know directly? Send an email? Or…”

Mirabel closed her eyes. “Would you do what I think I’m going to do, and would you notify the press?”

There was no faster way to get the word out to friends and family than that.

huntcrashes

Hunter hadn’t meant to overhear. Really, he hadn’t. He’d been out on one of those errands that didn’t quite have a name, the kind that started with “help Flapjack find twine for the nest” and ended with “somehow wind up three blocks from where you meant to go.” That kind of day. That kind of autumn.

So when the girl bumped into him, he muttered an automatic “Sorry,” but something about her didn’t move on like the others did. His hand twitched slightly at his side as he listened to her, not toward a weapon, but like he was resisting the urge to move. To do something.

“If they are missing, and it’s connected to the stuff that’s been happening…” His jaw tightened. “Then alerting the whole city could get them hurt. Or make them harder to find.” He hesitated, gaze flicking to the gardens she’d just left, then back to her face.

Flapjack fluttered down from somewhere overhead and landed on his shoulder, puffing up like he sensed the tension too. “If you want help,” he said, softer now, “I’ll come with you. Council building’s a mess right now, but I’ve got people there. And if it’s not that, if it’s something deeper? I’ve been tracking it too.” He offered a hand. “I’m Hunter. And I think we both want the same thing. So let’s do this right.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨mirabel m.⎬

shadowjinu

jinu didn't realize how long it had gotten since he left his home. although he typically liked walking around in the middle of the night to clear his head when he couldn't sleep, he normally at least knew the time. he honestly couldn't tell how long he'd been walking, how late—early?—it was. even as self-centered as he was, jinu could tell the energy in elias had shifted to something unrecognizable. he knew there was a plan, that people were going missing for a reason, but to what end did that actually serve? he never questioned what he was told to do, like a good little soldier, and it meant grappling with everything bad that happened in elias. was it all tied to hades or was it someone else's plan?

the second the voices reached his ears, he tensed up. he was glad the hood was able to hide his face to some degree because he felt like he'd heard a ghost. maybe because when he heard his sister, it was a ghost. if his memories were going to torture him forever, then he might as well let them. he couldn't banish them anyways. jinu didn't have that power. he knew he looked like a sight. he was in a right state. "i'm fine," he said automatically. he had never been fine in his life.

"i'm good," he shrugged the concern off. "i thought i heard something in the alley, but it's just my imagination. sometimes i get so lost in thought that my imagination starts playing tricks on me." a manifestation of his own guilt or something. "sorry for running into you."

huntcrashes

Hunter didn’t press, but his eyes flicked over to him like he was scanning a blueprint, clocking the too-casual tone, the weight in the shoulders that didn’t match the words. He'd been raised a warrior and it was still hard to shake the need to examine the people he came into contact with.

“No worries,” he said simply, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. “Wouldn’t be the first time this city made someone jumpy.”

He let the silence stretch for a second, comfortable in it. Elias had taught him that some people don’t need a lecture or a hug, just someone who won’t walk away when the seams start to fray.

“You know,” Hunter added, “sometimes imagination’s just memory in disguise. Doesn’t mean you’re losing it. Just means something’s still echoing.”

He shifted slightly, angling himself to be less of a wall and more of a shoulder. “Doesn’t seem like you’re the type who usually bumps into people,” he said with a small half-smile. “You walk these streets often?”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨jinu s.⎬

clawthorncs

“COLOR-CODE my socks?!" he repeated "hunter, my socks are NOT just socks. they are curated leg art. they are personality statements. a glimpses into my soul." he puffed up, one hand on his chest. "and if my soul wants cats riding pizza slices into space, THEN SO BE IT."

"and by the way" he added, sweeping dramatically across to the booth, "mystery glitter is a SIGN of a full and vibrant life. only boring people hate glitter. you know who doesn’t hate glitter?" he leaned in to whisper "champions. icons. and people with charisma." he slid into the seat next to hunter, "maybe you should take notes."

he slumped into the booth like a gremlin prince whose kingdom had wronged him. "you know it is NOT my fault that the freezer is too powerful. that thing is cursed. possessed. probably vengeful. it has a grudge against me because i’m beautiful and it’s jealous." he gestured wildly at the bartender." hey, did they get my order? something fried enough to make a doctor cry? and whatever this emotionally-stunted rascal is drinking!"

huntcrashes

Hunter’s face was a study in restraint. Lips pressed into a flat line. Eyebrow twitching just slightly. He looked at the socks. Then at King. Then back at the socks. “Your soul,” he echoed, slowly, “is apparently made of neon cats and glitter explosions.” Hunter couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.“…That explains a lot, actually.”

He leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers as if he were preparing to file an incident report. “I wasn’t color-coding them,” he clarified his voice tight with the patience of a babysitter with a troublesome toddler. “I was separating them by pattern family so the drawer didn’t look like someone threw a rave inside a fabric blender.”

King was already in the booth beside him, broadcasting nonsense like a glitter-powered gremlin. Hunter gave him a sidelong look, unimpressed. “I’m not taking notes from someone who almost froze a banana because they were ‘testing the limits of destiny’ with the freezer.” He lifted his drink. “Also, I ordered this. You get your own fried trauma snack.”

Still, his tone softened just a little. Not enough to encourage more sock talk, but enough to show he didn’t actually mind King’s chaos. Too much. “…If the freezer’s haunted, it learned from you.” He took a long sip of his drink. “Just… eat your food. And if any glitter gets on my jacket again, I will sew your socks into a single horrifying mega-sock and hang it from the ceiling as a warning.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨king h.⎬

ericseara

eric nearly tripped over the leg of a bar stool on his way in, catching himself with a laugh that earned a few amused looks from nearby tables. cheeks flushed from the cold and the embarrassment, he spotted hunter almost instantly... half-slouched, glass in hand, looking like patience personified.

“hey! see, only twenty minutes,” eric said brightly as he made his way over, grin easy and unbothered. “that’s basically early by my standards.”

he plopped down onto the empty stool with a little bounce, shrugging off his coat and tossing it toward the backrest, where it barely hung on. flapjack stirred at the motion, and eric’s eyes softened. “oh, hey, little dude,” he murmured, voice dropping sweetly as he reached out to offer a finger in greeting. “keeping him company, huh? good man.”

then, with a playful tilt of his head, he looked back at hunter. “for the record, i am better company than a ghost,” he said, tone teasing but warm. “i come with bad jokes and an overall delightful personality.”

he leaned his elbow on the counter, chin resting in his palm as his grin grew softer. “you didn’t give up on me after all,” he added, voice dropping just a touch. “guess i owe you an apology for being late?”

huntcrashes

Hunter didn’t glance up right away, just took another slow sip from his glass as Eric’s voice rang out like someone announcing themselves at a party they were late to and still confident about it. "You’re twenty-three minutes late," he replied, with a glance up, he added, "But hey, you didn’t trip over a ghost, so maybe that’s progress."

Flapjack stirred again, letting out the tiniest noise, whether in greeting or judgment, even Hunter couldn’t tell. He offered a subtle shrug in response to Eric’s cooing. "He’s been judging your punctuality the whole time. I’ve been trying to talk him down. We almost left."

But despite the dry sarcasm, the corner of his mouth twitched. "You owe me fries, not an apology," he said resting his elbow beside Eric’s. "Or one of those milkshakes you always say are ‘too sweet’ but somehow finish anyway."

He nudged Eric’s stool gently with his boot, a quiet smirk settling onto his face. "Now tell me something stupid that happened today. I’m overdue for a laugh."

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨eric s.⎬

luzuramagic

——— dinner at the pit stop had quickly become part of her routine with hunter. she had grown up an only child - a lonely one at that. since falling into the owl house she had gain so much. the best of course being her friends and in turn two honorary brothers in king and hunter. luz happily played the annoying younger sister to hunter whenever she could.

❛ a new record if you think about it ! ❜ she laughed, throwing an stiff apologetic smile to the person she stole the seat from. to anyone else they would have been put off by hunter's tone but luz had gotten to know him well enough that there was no annoyance behind his tone. only fondness. ❛ royal decree ? ah ha, fancy. thank you good sir for saving me a seat. ❜ he replied with her own flair of faux hoity toity-iness.

her mouth fell agape to let another apology seep through but promptly closed it. ❛ you know i'd never bail on you. it was a book ! though ... a secret rebellion is due. ❜ the fries may have been cold but the way they tasted on luz's tongue you would have been convinced they were the best fries to ever exist. ❛ hunter you're the best. have i told you lately you're the best ? because you are. ❜ she beamed. ❛ alright. let's get to business. what's new with you ? ❜

huntcrashes

Hunter had already been halfway through his burger when Luz finally skidded into the booth like a comet with too much caffeine and zero regard for personal space. He didn’t flinch, not anymore, anyway. He just sighed. Loudly. Dramatically. And if his lips twitched a little like he was suppressing a smile, well… he’d deny it. "A new record for lateness, " he muttered popping a fry into his mouth without looking at her. "You’re gonna have to start pre-apologizing through text. Or get me a snack bribe. One of the two. Or both. Probably both."

"A book, of course." He side-eyed her and despite himself, his voice betrayed him when his tone softened. "You’re welcome. It was either save you a seat or let some guy with a Bluetooth headset and three laptops claim it."

She beamed at him and he looked down quickly, acting like he was suddenly very focused on his burger wrapper. " You’re gonna make my ego unbearable if you keep saying things like that, you know." He reached for his drink to hide a grin behind the straw. " I’ve been okay. Patrol’s been quiet. Too quiet, probably. Still helping out at Arcane Hollow when I can. I fixed the ward lines last week… even if Donald said I did them ‘with the elegance of a kicked shovel.’ So, I’m calling that a win."

Then he turned to her with a raised brow. " What about you? Besides joining the tardy Olympics. What’s been up in Luz world? Anything weird I should be worried about? You usually find the weird first." 

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨luz n.⎬

leonardoisms

——— Leo was clearly amused. It was written on his face – to spare the other’s feeling of course but it was evident in his tone. Leo had dealt with many people with too much pride. It was always fun to poke holes in their bubbles. ❛ ah, I see. Decided to take the scenic route, huh ? ❜

The slider nodded along. He wasn’t believing a word the kid was saying but, hey, he’d throw him a bone. Play along a little. In elias you never knew if someone would retaliate for pushing too hard so he reeled it in. ❛ right yeah. It’s better to be thorough here. Things are always changing since the war. Portals open down a random street now and so on. ❜

The awkwardness did cause leo’s skin to crawl. Not in a bad way but similar to when you stepped out into the cold for the first time. ❛ the gym ? It’s not far from here. I was actually going. Do you want to walk with me ? Or would you prefer to go alone, since, yanno, you know where it is. ❜

huntcrashes

"Scenic, thorough, sure. Whatever makes me look less lost," he said dryly as his hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket. He side-eyed Leo with something close to amusement, but the truth was, Elias still caught him off guard. The way it twisted and turned, how new doors opened where none had been, how the familiar could change overnight. He hated it and admired it in equal measure.

"Yeah, you’re right. This city’s weird. Changing. Alive in ways it shouldn’t be. Reminds me of home." His voice softened for a moment like the observation had peeled something personal loose. But then it was gone tucked back under his usual gruff.

When Leo offered to walk with him, Hunter gave a brief pause, weighing the offer. He could say no...he usually did. But there was something different in the way Leo said it. Not pity. Just an option.

"Sure. Lead the way. Just don’t try to make me do a warm-up routine or I’m turning around."

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨leonardo h.⎬

shadowjinu

open starter / location anywhere

the last couple of weeks had mostly been jinu hiding out pretending to work on choreography. he doubted a new album would calm everyone down with all the people that had gone missing. he didn't have anything to say, to add to the conversation, to help. it was better to stay quiet than for him to make a statement on something he didn't know anything about. best to stay out of the news. honestly, it really didn't matter where he went, someone had something to say about it. jinu knew that staying out of the spotlight could only work for a little bit, considering the other idols did not enjoy avoiding the spotlight. there was only so long they could sit around without leaving their apartment before they got stir crazy. so much to his dismay, he let everyone leave and go do something that wasn't work or sitting around waiting for work.

jinu found himself trying to enjoy his walk through elias. he had his headphones on and his hood up, jinu hoped it would help him blend into the crowd. he blended into the a little too well, honestly. without the rest of his idols surrounding him and borrowed power, he was just a no one. which honestly was perfect to him. there was a lot of pressure when he stepped out into the streets as himself, the saja boys idol. even more pressure as hades soldier. he wouldn't let the pressure get to him though because he was good at remaining calm under pressure.

"jinu, come play hide and seek," a voice called from the alley that he passed.

this couldn't happen right now. he hadn't heard the voices much in the past couple of weeks. every so often there was a whisper, a reminder. however, it was almost a relief to focus on music and not hear his mother and sister's voices. he closed his eyes and walked forward, not realizing he'd run into someone.

"sorry," he muttered under his breath.

huntcrashes

Hunter hadn’t meant to be out this long, but patrols had a habit of turning into quiet self-checks, scouting streets that felt heavier than usual, pausing in shadowed corners like they might reveal something he’d missed the day before. The energy in Elias had been off for weeks, and his instincts were twitchy in all the wrong ways.

So when someone bumped into him, he nearly reacted on instinct. Shoulders tensed. Grip twitching. But when he caught the stranger’s face beneath the hood, something in him eased.

“Whoa-hey,” he said, voice even but not unkind. Hunter tilted his head slightly, taking in the headphones, the slouched posture, the weight of something unseen on the other boy’s shoulders.

“You alright?” he asked, keeping his tone casual. No pressure. Just enough to show he’d noticed. “Didn’t mean to get in your way. You looked like you were a million miles out.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨jinu s.⎬

luzuramagic

——— luz was running late. of course she was. punctuality was not her forte. you would think after all these years luz would have learned not to take on too many task before leaving but her hubris still got the better of her. she thought she could squeeze in one more chapter of the book she was reading. it wasn't until stringbean got her attention did she realize she was late meeting hunter.

she ran as fast as her feet could carry her to the pit stop. the trek felt longer than usual. the guilt skewing her perception of time until she burst through the door of the establishment. ❛ i'm here ! ❜ she announced, quite loudly at that as she saw hunter sitting in their usual spot.

❛ hey mr. ghost i am .. so sorry but that, yeah that's my spot. so i'm just gonna .. squeeze on past you .. thank you ! ❜ luz pushed her way into the vacant seat that had been saved for her. she offered the stranger and awkward smile, then turning to hunter to offer a more apologetic one. ❛ oh my god hunter i am so sorry ! i know i'm so late. i lost track of time ! but i'm here now ! ❜ she grabbed one of the very cold fries and popped it into her mouth. ❛ dang, these fries are great even cold. ❜

huntcrashes

Hunter had been sitting at their usual booth for ten minutes and seventeen seconds. The second chair across from him remained empty, a cold soda sweating on the table beside a small paper tray of fries slowly losing the battle against time. It wasn’t unusual. Luz being late was practically tradition by now. He even found himself looking forward to it in a weird way. He’d just started reaching for one of the fries when the door flung open and she announced herself with the same flair as always.

Hunter’s lips twitched into a smile before he could stop it. “You’re only… fifteen minutes late,” he said, deadpan, but his tone was all warmth beneath the surface. He moved his boot under the table to nudge the chair out a bit for her, eyes flicking toward the stranger she displaced with a shrug. “You heard her. Royal decree and all.”

When she apologized again, he shook his head. “Relax, I didn’t think you bailed. Figured you were either lost in a book or starting another secret rebellion.” He leaned his elbow on the table, chin in hand as he watched her eat a fry like it was the first meal she’d had all week. “They are good cold. But I still ordered you a fresh plate. You’re welcome.”

#t h r e a d ✧ ⎨luz n.⎬

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