i watch the work of my kin / human au + friendship bracelets

[no more]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]“Try to look like a stray sunbeam … It’s such a dark day we’ve got to be a little brighter than usual.”

Quiet the raise of hum through the press of teeth, caught upon pale lips before it arose upon slight breeze about child equal within size, of little presence though about smile seems something warm. Within is warmth, touching upon skin left cracked where the edge of teeth had found a place, chewed along until cracks had touched upon, broke what had once been soft. Twist of fingers, curling about the strands. Simple the task before them, creation made from simple things bundled within their lap, resting atop the sand where it spilled from their shirt.

Twisting and curling, winding the strands together, thin but sturdy the band. Another weaved in, shadings of plum and rose drawn together, amongst single line of crimson, slight the hint of it. Winking as it caught the light amongst the strands the small charm sat, beaten silver carefully crafted until upon a thin loop hung the dragon, wings spread while serpentine neck and tail curled inward. With care was it placed before the child, settled by others spread out, finished while the next began.

Besides this one which bore black and red intertwined with a line of grey, the charm from it a small hammer hanging from the handle. On it went, various shadings intertwined into bands and within their centre sat a charm to match the person it was meant for, little things but important. Within the name of friendship may they have once been given but it was different here, rather the love within, curling about the simple craft and touching upon next as fingers worked the pale tones of pink and mint green with a single strand of white caught amongst it, the charm upon it a set of feathery wings.

[ thought it was about time to lighten things up and have a cute little thing with cc because they love all of these guys and think of em as family ]

Spoiler:

[member=1637]bakugou[/member] — predominantly red and black, some grey, hammer charm
[member=1381]BUBONICPLAGUE[/member] — predominately light shades of red and orange, some yellow, arrow charm
[member=48]goldenluxury[/member] — predominately gold and light blue, some white, bird charm
[member=66]PINCHER[/member] —predominately gold and dark blue, some grey, dagger charm
[member=2585]Masie[/member] — predominately light green and brown, some dark red, flower charm
[member=232]LUCIFER GRIMM.[/member] — predominately dark purple and pink, some dark red, dragon charm
[member=1517]Luca[/member] — pink and mint green, some white, feathered wings charm

[Grey]

Earphones nestled in both ears, the sound of drums signalling movement. Muscles flexed, he draws his arm back before striking his fist against the punching bag that resonates backwards. It swings from its confines before he rears his left, thudding the material to the beat of the music. Sweat lines his forehead as he re-adjusts his stance, sucking in a hot breath before moving another round. He counts in fours, continuing with hit after hit and then taking a break to fix the bandages that coil about his knuckles, wrapping and coiling them. His heart his racing, eyes stern when he looks towards the time. Once again he has let his emotions possess him, anger channeled through unarmed strikes in hope to release the unwanted energy. Bakugou uncaps his water bottle, drinking and crunching the plastic with a tight grip before unlocking his phone. He swipes to a notification, wincing at the bright light of his device before dismissing it. There is nothing of interest, the male grasping his towel and wiping his face before giving up and moving to take a shower.

By the time the blonde finishes, he sits at his couch, feet over his coffee table. He doesn't move to turn on the television or look at his phone, simply staring off into the nothingness. Although droplets appear between the strands of his hair, hard gaze focused whilst he thinks quietly to himself. In his right hand, Bakugou spins a pen aimlessly, throwing and catching it every now and then to mix it up. He has no reason to go out today and he doesn't plan to do any further boxing. His knuckles are red from the force of his punches, his biceps sore. Anger only tires him as the adolescent sighs in frustration, plopping an earphone in one of his ears as he searches through a variety of songs on his phone. He just needs something to distract himself, let his hours pass as he rots in place, doing nothing of use and fade into the background. With his current mood, he simply doesn't expect visitors to knock on his door or anyone to search for him.

[Luciferr]

[color=black]He's out of his house - his large house, that feels so empty despite those that live in it with him because he remembers it once, full to bursting, where you couldn't walk two steps without tripping over someone - where his siblings chased each other down the corridors whilst mother looked on fondly and uncle Anzarel had to skirt by quickly lest he be swept up in the giggling aftermath of his younger sister and the fallout of another glitter prank.

he remembers his wife choosing to stay with them because she'd always wanted a big family - a real one, a happy one, with siblings that had not died because of a raving mad father and Lucifer, lucifer understood that more than he liked to think about - his father was the same, may he rot in the deep firey pits - he greatly preferred his step dad was saying the least - and dear mother had been delighted to have a new daughetr in law and the grandchildren.

now he thinks the huge manor house might be more of a living monument than a home - too much remind him of the things he's lost even if his newfound family help from where they've moved in.

the half scarred face of the 'dragon dad' as the kids have labelled him for his penchant of clothing that seems to mimic the scales of the great beasts of legend and the winged-feathery motif that trails it's print down the back of his longcoat and arms seems to only add credit to the theory - he's aware he looks eccentric to others, but he's long past caring what people have thought, he's seen too much to care for opinions on fashion of all things - and the scarred face makes many second guess voicing such to the war vet.

he sighs into the somewhat chilly air, breath fogging outwards as he idles briefly in the cold air.

[its cold af here that kinda eeked in at the end oof]